Your eyes resolve so few shapes under night’s shroud, but you are content. There, bathing in golden light, is the most radiant creature you’ve ever laid eyes on.

When she dances, no gaze can resist her summons, least of all yours.

Her dance is not performance. It’s not for the benefit of an audience. She would dance if the envious touch of your rapt attention weren’t caressing every rapidly shifting pose of her dancing figure.

Flickering shadows accompany her movements—backup dancers imitating her rhythm in perfect synchronization—but you only have eyes for the real thing.

You don’t know if it’s just your imagination, or if she’s making eye contact with you too, beckoning you.

Dare you join her?

Can you possibly resist?

Of course not. You flit forward through the darkness, the naked desire in your every movement pantomimed by the shadows you cast.

You have your own dance, and it’s with mindless eagerness that you share it with her. A twist, a spin, a twirl, all taking you closer and closer to her own ceaseless gyration.

You approach so close you can almost touch, but you linger in her periphery to draw this out.

Up close you can tell so much better just how hot she is.

You can’t ignore it. You can’t keep yourself from her.

You resist only long enough for the tension between you to sweeten the moment you finally give in.

And then you do give in.

Her kiss—so full of raw, unrestrained passion—burns you like only pure obsession ever could. Your wings turn to ash like so much paper in the flaming arms of her perfect embrace.

Your body turns to light, and your soul turns to awe, and it hurts, and you are so, so in love.

Let others try to avert their own end while you embrace yours, becoming the fuel that makes your love flare brighter still, knowing an intimacy with her that they can only dream of experiencing.

And afterward, her dance continues.