She loves a cloak of flame. She feels the heat lick her skin as she settles its folds around her shoulders and lets it drape along her flanks. The skin eagerly soaks up the heat.
There is no time to let the dark smoke of her transgressions curl around her. She seizes the crackling spotlight of celebrity.
Onstage she is sorceress, her beauty a crime, her desire palpable. They swarm her presence, the husbands of other women, the sons of other mothers. She assumes their adoration like a wily goddess. She knows where their secrets lie. She harvests the empassioned with the span of her hips, the stride of her step. All the while, the enflamed cloak of her ambition scorches her skin and slowly burns toward the center of her being, like a brushfire untamed.