Neon Kitten After Midnight



The club lights dimmed, the bass dropped, and she took the stage.
With her fiery red hair cascading like liquid flame and those sharp black ears twitching to the rhythm, everyone’s eyes were on her. She moved like sin wrapped in velvet — tail swaying, hips rolling, that teasing smile promising trouble.
They call her the Neon Kitten. Once she wraps herself around that pole, the whole nightclub forgets how to breathe. 
Who else is staying until closing time tonight? 😈