Like you're sitting in a smoky jazz club watching some talented sax player blow his soul through his brass? And then the dame walks in, and all eyes are on her?
She makes her way across the room, and even though you're facing the opposite direction with a drink in hand, you can feel the heat radiate off her?
And then you turn around, tip your hat, and say, "Isn't it customary nowadays to greet with 'Hello, darling,' and not passive letters left on my windowsill?'
She smirks at this, and you turn back to your drink. She is the Adler to your Holmes, the temptation to the recovering addict, the bicycle to the ADHD kid. Whenever you need to focus on what's at hand, she's there, storming things up and just plain distracting you.