The dance floor is alive and vibrant, flushed by the vivid lights. I spot her briefly in the middle of the room, dancing fluently and gracefully. Her white gown, which contours ideally to the curvature of her body, moves so freely with the movements of her hips. Tremors run up and down her figure as her body resonates to the music.
From my position, it looked as though a spotlight was shining on her. As if all the light sources in the room were attracted to the outline of her body. Her movements left a shimmering afterglow in the spaces she had just been occupying. I caught brief glimpses of her face as she oscillated in and out of beats, and I was just able to make out the minute details of her soft feminine features.
She was the type of beauty that you only read about in books. That kind you dreamed about and never thought existed outside of your imagination.
As I left that night, her presence still lingered with me. Images of her fluctuating body vacillitated through my thoughts. Even now, when I go to sleep, the silent palpitations of her body still remain as she fills my dreams with fleeting images of herself.