Dancing Queen by Toby Leon in Sydney

Here she is: the greatest Tayū who ever lived. Putting on a private show in this secluded wing of the Alhambra. Her first was for el rey y la reina. Now she dances on the spot for a motley crew of gamblers and aristocrats. Servants and black sheep who've heard her myth and come to see for themselves... the Dancing Queen you can't knock down. Found in every palace on this tour, they hang round 'til dawn breaks — scattering to their quarters before anyone catches a glance. And she'd let her legend run wild for years now, because it kept being proved to be true. She didn't know if she was in control of it. She didn't want to. All she knew was she drew larger and larger crowds to every bash. Where they'd try and topple her over in back rooms and hideaways. Throwing everything from oranges to cod while she fish fingered their gaze upon her bare flesh poking out beneath the silks. Knowing no matter what mayhem they hurled, she'd grab it like every other plate, bowl and teapot she's caught in Kyoto. With aplomb, midair, a ring cycle on spin cycle, never stopping, not for anyone... and certainly not for this silly lot who thought they'd knock her off her spot. With what? This fish? They wish. From Buenos Aires to Ceylon they'd tried to take her on, and every time they left a little lighter as she collected coins from one after another. A dangerous bet she couldn't seem to refuse, because the Dancing Queen just won't lose...