One of those underground things; racing, fighting, dancing, whatever.  Outdoors or indoors, somehow it was always smoky, always sweaty. Slim fingers with bright orange nail tips laced through the silver metal fencing, curling towards soft palms, pulling the tanned bare arms and the body they were attached to towards the gating. The night was illuminated with headlights of cars, the sounds were techno and revving of engines, people screaming, singing, betting, taunting, egging on their friends, but it was all a dull hum compared to the music and thoughts in her head.  The night was wrapping around her like a damp towel, humid, but teaming with energy. He saw her and her lips, soft and pink curled into a teasing smile, eyes almond, slanted, velvety brown, and lined with liquid black liner, flicked at the outer corner of her eyes, making them more catlike, more alluring. Naughty locks, black-brown with a deep red base here and there fell over one of those exotic eyes and her chin tilted down a bit as she pulled her body up along the fence.  She was a little over five-foot-five on her converse shoes, they were dark blue tonight, and old school. She wore baggy khaki cargo pants, though they didn't hide her figure, slung low on her slim hips. Which, at this time, were undulating to whatever music was playing in her head, slow and provocative. Some girls would flash their stomachs; she just showed hers off, tanned and tone, though that feminine curve was still there, not flat as a board or six-pack defined, just over her waist the view stopped with a hot pink tank's ragged hem, she had improved it. The tank was tight and though Korean, she had breasts, not huge, but the right size for her statue, her hair slid over a shoulder, masking whatever worn writing was on the front of the tank, the ends curling just so. That come hither look and movement was met with a sly smile from the man and he went to go to her, but was stopped. Sigh, by his girlfriend.