She stalks over to the table, where similar predators sit and laugh, seducing the struck. She lifts herself onto a chair and smiles at her friends, she feels his eyes on her. She casually slides her hand along the long stretch of exposed skin from her thigh to her ankle, she can almost hear his shivers.
Time ticks on and the party unwravels, she craves for a drink, a dance, a kiss. The pack stands and makes their way to the dance floor, pulling the birthday boy along with them, eyes run over their gorgeous faces, their short dresses, and their killer heels. They twist and turn on the dancefloor, arms overhead, mouths smiling. He watches her and she bites into the fruit of his glimpse with a ravenous hunger and sucks out all possibilities. Wishful thinking. It didn't take long for one of her own to bite into him, herself. It didn't take long to curse the wishful thinking. It didn't take long to let it go.