I am in the arms of yet another faceless man.
And I feel the shift of my weight from one foot to another as he twirls me around the floor.
I stare down. He rests his chin on the top of my head.
I suppress a shudder.
The music ends and he bends down to grace my hand with a kiss. Staring at his glossy black hair gives me a chance to compose my self.
In a flash I am in control again.
My dress is simple and understated.
My posture graceful, my manners refined.
My conversation is brilliant.
And yes, I am well aware of the crowd of admirers gathered around the glittering strands of my laughter.
I have been groomed for this ever since the day I was born.
Is this all there is?