Three minutes of fame was all she asked for: Three. Minutes.
A crew member signalled to her: “you’re up in two!”
She nodded. Deep breath. She shook her arms, shoulders, getting ready for the moment. Standing in the opening to the stage, the arena, she heard the crowds roaring, stamping their feet; her audience, impatiently waiting for her. A bell was struck.
Suddenly, insecurity crawled up on her. Should she smile or keep a straight face? And what kind of smile should she use, mysterious? Or laugh widely, cheerfully, girl-next-door style? And her eyes, how should her eyes... She should be tempting, beckoning, maybe a slight bit naughty?
She plunged forward from the curtains, enshrined in spotlights, and strode across her private catwalk, making her little turn in her leopard print bikini and held up a sign saying “Round 2”.