Taming the Bad Boy

From up here on stage, I can see her. Even with her First Lady hair and Sunday school shoes, I can't take my eyes off of her.
The music starts. I swing my hips to the thumping bass. Oh, so slowly I slip one button through a hole, then another, then another. I ease the black silk from my shoulders and toss it right toward her.
I watch her pale glossy lips form a big 'O' before she catches it like a major league baller. The flashing lights blind me. Between beats, I can see her blue eyes zeroed...