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Dancing in style

You and Chet soon find yourselves standing on a wooden dance floor in some elaborately decorated ballroom. Large crystal chandeliers that could kill someone if they fell hang from the ceiling. A bar and several large high definition television sets are located behind you. Round tables with beautiful white tablecloths are spread all around the room. At one table in particular, you notice a pair of place settings.

"Wow," you manage to get out of your mouth, admiring the beauty of the room for a second. You look toward Chet and see that his casual clothes have changed into a handsome-looking tuxedo. Although the tux considerably helps his appearance, you know that this is not the sort of man any woman should be with.

"Looking good, babe," Chet says to you with that same look on his face he had earlier . . . the one where you felt like nothing more than a piece of meat.

Looking down at yourself, you have to admit that you do look very nice. You are wearing a strapless black evening dress with sparkling sequins on the bodice. Your knee-length skirt is poufed up by a black petticoat underneath. Black six-inch heels adorn your pretty feet. This is the perfect outfit for dancing.

Music starts playing. Before you have a chance to protest, Chet moves toward you, puts an arm around your waist, and pulls you close to his body. You soon find yourself doing an awkward prom shuffle with him around the dance floor. Recovering quickly from your initial shock, you push Chet away and take two steps back.

"I . . . don’t want to dance," you stammer.

"What do you mean?" Chet demanded. "We have a deal."

The brunette suddenly materializes on the far side of the room, that infernal device that started this whole mess still in her hands. You see her hurriedly type in something and aim the device at you. A moment later, your feet seem to develop a mind of their own as you walk back into Chet’s waiting arms.

"Never mind," you say, realizing you cannot win. "Let’s just dance."

"Now that’s more like it," Chet says.

His right arm wraps around your petite waistline. He places his hand on your waist, then slowly – to your dismay - slides it down to your butt.

How do you react?


Written by an anonymous author

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