Sally approached Henrick at the bar after he finished his set. He played well and he knew it. To him, Sally was just another girl hoping to rub up against him and maybe steal whatever brand of personal charisma he seemed to radiate post show. Sally’s agenda had nothing to do with such trivialities as vampiring Henrick’s energy or even sex for that matter. She whispered in his ear a well-phrased compliment, one that she hoped would spark his curiosity and cause him to notice her. She said “your music is elliptical, a great soundtrack for belly dancing.” And while it was true, Hernick barely heard her. He was too intent on cracking open his free and hard-earned beer. Henrick turned, noticed that Sally was still by his side and waved a non-committal hello, meant to deflect further attention without inciting aggression. He had practiced this exact wave in his studio apartment for weeks in front of the mirror until he nailed it. But Sally was deaf to the charm of Henrick, his wave or even his band-mate who was now fighting through the crowd to get to the bar. Desperate to command Henrick’s attention, Sally slipped her billowing skirt down below her belly button and started to dance. The crowd yielded as her stomach rippled gently and her fingers carved long arcs in the air. Finally, finally Henrick took notice. Their eyes met. She stopped dancing and shouted above the din of the crowd “we could make a lot of money together performing at the Saturday Market.” And they did.