Sashay She doesn't just walk in'-she makes her entry. Draped in velvet moments, brushed by the hush of sultry nights-oh là la Each step murmurs oui, oui, each glance, a promisse kissed with charm. Heels high. Hopes higher. She was never made to follow - jamais, mon chéri. Her path? Painted with a smile, and oh là là-that strut. She owns the floor- reads the twist, feels the turn... and just like that, there she goes.