Sally begins to notice their reactions, and, without having planned it, finds it incredibly arousing.  It spurs her on, makes her want their reaction more than she wants to win... makes her feel that flush of energy that comes from the awakening of the senses and passions of others.  She begins a slow, steady undulation in her hips... left, right, left, in perfect match to the droning bass notes of the music.  Letting it carry her almost to the floor, she opens a button, then two, on her jeans... her head thrown back slowly in a slow, ecstatic roll of her neck, she drops to her knees and skins the jeans from her hips.  When she arches her back, her ample breasts-- perfect to be cupped in the hand-- strain against her shirt, and visible peaks arc upward where her nipples must be.<br/><br/><i>Wandering star... for whom it is reserved...the blackness, the darkness, forever...</i>she slips the jeans over her thighs, then rises, slowly, leaving them behind.  Her legs tone, defined in a delicate combination of feminine muscle-- honed from hours of walking, dancing, running and climbing stairs to offices, studios, apartments... accentuated by her golden-hued half-Indian skin.  Her panties hug her hips low, with two silk straps holding a lacy covering... the lace opaques in an inverted triangle over her nether region, but through them is visible the smooth contours of her hips and inner thigh, the youthful pubis of a nubile girl scantly clad.<br/><br/>Barefoot and bared, she twists and grinds in the middle of the room as if riding an invisible lover in ecstasy; her full, pink lips half-open and eyes half-veiled by black lashes complete the image.  She arches her back then, stretching her body and every muscle in her calf, thighs and buttocks, turning round... the panties are scant in the back, her egg-shaped buttocks arch firmly up as she sways away toward the far wall and drops, as if a doll, to the floor.<br/><br/>Had she stopped...?  Not quite... she still sways her shoulders in half-time to the rhythm, arches her back and rises as if to greet some invisible black sun, peeling her shirt over her long, lean abdomen and delicately shadowed back... exposing her sinewy, lithe back and shoulders, up over her head-- the hat comes off, resting on the floor before her, and she picks it up to her breasts as she turns, extends one arm, and dangles the doffed shirt from her fingers like a trailing feather.<br/><br/>Standing there, wearing her hat and panties, she watches their reactions and dips her head... the performance done.  She turns, showing them her bare back again, and pulls the shirt back over her head.