She was the most desired one in the room. All eyes were on her. As she looked out over the crowd she could barely see with the smoke, lights, and body heat, she felt a rush that flushed her cheeks and fancied in her heart. They had not come just to hear the piano player pound out chords with careful musical diction. They had not come for the guitar player either, whose hands gently swayed the strings into song. Nor had they come for the drums and the horns who contoured with her voice harmoniously.
They had come specifically for her. They had come to explore their own inner workings as her voice toiled with them. Her voice; like magic she tasted her song as it rose from tender vibrations over a pallet of warm breath. Being so small it did not seem possible for such sound to emerge, but it did. She belted, and the people cheered. She herself and they as well, were stirred by the psychedelic colors spinning around them and stirred by the rhythms and the rattle. She knew that she was the most desired one in the room.
From her ears the music built behind her with such eagerness that she nearly tripped on her words. They flowed smoothly, however, as her hearing sense took in her orchestra and her crowd. She could feel herself filling with emotion, not one in particular save all of them combined. It started in her feet so she began to stomp with the beat. She was trembling with thick umami flavor. Her loose body began to spin. Her head and salty sweaty hair lolled this and that and she felt lost and found all at once. She was overwhelmed.
But, as luck would have it, the song ended. Next.