Black dress with the tights underneath I got the breath of a last cigarette on my teeth And she's an actress (actress), but she ain't got no need She's got money from her parents in a trust fund back East
In a flash, she grabbed two of her best friends by the wrist, dragging them into a tight, bounding circle right in the thick of the dance floor. The subwoofers didn’t just play the track, they sent a cheeky, electro-pop shockwave vibrating right through the lucite heels of her platforms, instantly kicking off a wild burst of fun. After endless, suffocating weeks buried under heavy states craft, dry legislation, and the formal exhaustions of her duties, this neon-soaked venue was her ultimate sanctuary. The moment the chorus teased the speakers, every single protocol and political headache dissolved into thin air. She wasn’t an official out here - just a girl completely off the flock, completely unbothered, and living for every single second with her favorite people.
Channeling the song’s bratty, head-turning attitude, she bounded to the synths, hyping up her friends as they all screamed the lyrics at the top of their lungs. They were laughing so hard they could barely keep the rhythm, taking turns dancing on each other and hyping each other up. Above them, laser grids shattered into bursts electric magenta, neon aqua, and violet, painting a kaleidoscopic dreamscape across their little circle and casting saturated halos over their silhouettes.
Neeltje was glowing - literally. Her sun-kissed skin glistened with a fine, iridescent sheen under the strobes like a fresh dusting of diamonds. Delicate warm freckles danced across the bridge of her nose, highlighted by the subtle rose-pink blush that matched her blushed cheeks. Her eyes, wide and luminous with sheer delight, sparkled under the flashing neon, framing a gaze that was equal parts innocent sweetness and mischievous playful trouble. She was draped in a black mini dress - a silky, body-con silhouette designed with a low, sweeping scoop neckline that elegantly framed her collarbones and glowing skin. Every turn, every sudden dip, every playful sway was an understated masterpiece of grace and carefree allure.
Her breath was poetry all on its own, velvety hitches, parted her glossed, strawberry-tinted lips as she danced herself blissfully breathless. Each deep inhale pulled the cool, sweet-scented haze of the club deep into her chest, expanding her ribs beneath the shimmer black silk before escaping in tiny, fluttering sighs of pure exhilaration. Her breath rose and fell in quick, delicate puffs against the warm, air-conditioned draft, dusting her flushed collarbones with every breathless gasp. Beneath the silk and sparkle, her heart was hammering a giddy, electric beat against her ribs, completely washing away the last lingering bits of work stress. Between shared looks with her friends, her dimpled, pearl-white laugh echoed over the track, and she was having the absolute time of her life.
Every worry about her nation, every upcoming summit, every mountain of paperwork was miles away - replaced by the thrumming bass and the taste of sweet cherry cocktail on her lips, and the sheer euphoria of being right here, right now.
Right as the main drop hit, Neeltje and her crew dropped low to the bassline together, springing back up with a collective burst of giggles.
Biting her lip, she tossed her hands into her hair, fluffing the glossy locks over her bare shoulders while her friends cheered her one. She flashed them a dimpled smirk, threw her arms around their shoulders, and spun right back - surrendering completely to the night, the music, and the sweet beautiful sanctuary of being alive.
