Gwen was an experienced toucher. When meeting someone for the first time or encountering an old friend (not that she had many of those) Gwen's first instinct was to touch. To feel. She was free with hugs and kisses; it helped her to get close to others quickly. After all, even the simplest brush of a hand did more to form a connection with someone than a kind word or even a smile. People had hands for a reason, and Gwen felt that most people underutilized them when it came to friendship. Touch was a language of its own, and Gwen was fluent.
Rhine's touch, light as it was, pleased Gwen very much. It sent intimate tingles along her skin and broadened her ruby smile. She stroked her inner cheek with her tongue, meeting Rhine's gaze with a sultry stare of her own.
"Oh, you bet your perfectly-formed ass I'm going to watch. Wild horses couldn't drag me away, honey, and I have a front-row seat," promised Gwen. "How about you do me and yourself a favor, babe?" Gwen's voice fell into a sensual purr. "When you're out there dancing, focus on me. Dance like you're dancing for me. Okay?"