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What are you waiting for?

A black leather jacket brushes over his sweat stained skin. He feels the pulse of the crowd and he fuels off their energy. He rips into his guitar and it screams into the audience. He's on Hot Rawks.

She lifts the cup to her lips and the steam enters her nostrils. She sips the mocha-infused coffee and the hot liquid rolls down her throat. She listens to Nora Jones as her fingers tap away on her Macbook. She smiles to herself as she feels the gratifying warmth of accomplishment run through her body. She's on Hot Rawks.
His heart is pounding as he grips the handlebars. His palms are clammy but he's in control. He feels the vibration of the bike run through his body as he defies gravity and catapults into the air. The crowd screams in delight as he lands perfectly and continues onto the next jump. He's on Hot Rawks.

She grips the sheets with her hands and balls them into a tight fist. She arches her back in sheer pleasure and the crown of her head presses hard against the pillow. She moans in delight again and again and every bit of stress evaporates from her quivering body. She is on Hot Rawks.
So, what are you waiting for?