2
The thrum of the bass vibrated through the air as the lights dimmed, the collective hush of the audience a fleeting moment before the energy surged again. Serafina Valero stood center stage, bathed in golden light, the weight of a thousand gazes on her, but none as electrifying as the pair she suddenly locked onto.
At first, she couldn’t place what had drawn her attention. The woman was the tallest among her companions, and she was certainly the least boisterous. In fact, her stern gaze and crossed arms suggested she was almost annoyed to be there. But the moment their eyes met, something inside Fina ignited.
The stranger’s eyes were deep, endless oceans in which she could easily drown if she wasn’t careful. Fina felt a slow, curling heat, foreign yet familiar, sweep through her. And in an instant, every fleeting infatuation, every past moment of desire, paled in comparison.
She had sung to countless crowds, played to adoring fans who screamed her name, but she had never performed for someone before. Not like this. Not with a gaze that rooted her to the spot, daring her to look away, daring her to keep going.
Fina’s fingers tightened around the microphone as the first chords rang out.
“Josie’s on a vacation far away, come around and talk it over…”
She watched the way the woman inhaled sharply, saw the exact moment her voice hit its mark. The connection between them was instant, sparks flickering in the space between them as if they alone existed in the crowded venue. Fina’s pulse kicked up, her voice growing more sultry, more charged.
“So many things that I wanna say, you know I like my girls a little bit older…”
A thrill raced down her spine as she saw the woman’s lips part, her expression shifting from guarded to something softer, something vulnerable. Her curled hair had been tucked neatly behind one ear, and for a fleeting second, Fina wondered what would those curls feel like in her grip? Soft, silken, twisting around her fingers as she whispered things meant only for the woman before her. Her gaze flickered lower, and she couldn’t help but notice the woman’s long, slender fingers, resting tensely across her own forearms. What would they feel like tracing her skin, tangled in her own hair, gripping onto her in the dark?
Fina smirked, and then, on impulse, she winked.
The reaction was immediate. The woman’s posture stiffened, but her eyes darkened with something unmistakable. Fina felt a rush of satisfaction, a dizzying sense of control, and an unshakable curiosity.
One wink, and the woman was spellbound, her gaze darting between Fina’s lips and her hands gripping the mic stand.
One wink, and Fina found herself fascinated by the way the woman clenched her fists as if fighting against something unnamed.
One wink, and Fina suddenly wanted to know her name, to hear how it would sound whispered in the hush of a quiet moment.
“I just wanna use your love tonight… I don’t wanna lose your love tonight…”
Fina let the lyrics roll off her tongue, but for the first time, they carried something deeper. Something personal. She wasn’t just singing. She was sending a message. A promise. A dare.
And as she watched the woman swallow hard, as if she, too, could feel the pull of something inevitable, Fina knew this wasn’t just another concert.
This was the beginning of something dangerous. Something unforgettable.