The Dancing Queen

The disco lights scatter across the room as she dances on the table, her black glittering dress catching every flash of color. Each movement is confident and deliberate—hips rolling to the beat, hair flowing down her back like liquid shadow. She doesn’t rush. She owns the rhythm. Then, in the middle of a turn, her eyes find you. It’s subtle at first—a lingering glance, a half-smile forming beneath dark red lips. Her expressive brown eyes hold yours a moment longer than chance would allow. The crowd fades. The music feels louder, closer. She tilts her head slightly, as if confirming what she already knows: you’re watching, and she’s letting you. She keeps dancing, but now it’s different. Her movements slow, more intentional, each step angled so you can see the curve of her hips, the confidence in her posture. A gold cross at her neck glints as she leans forward, one hand lifting, the other steadying her balance on the table. She doesn’t wave. She doesn’t beckon. She simply smiles—warm, knowing, inviting—before turning back into the lights, leaving you with the unmistakable feeling that the next move is yours.

Seraphina “Sera” Del Rosario