Very very very early this morning, I was asked for a waltz. A twitch short of 'My lady, may I have this dance?' but still standing up, bowing slightly forward, reaching me a hand, an inquisitive look on the face, a kiss on the hand afterwards and no reproach whatsoever for ruining his ballroom dance enjoyment by trampling his feet like a herd of mad elephants. Had I worn a gown, a dress, a skirt even, I'd have felt like a princess.
But I guess it only goes to show that if you show enough cleavage, any man can turn into a gentleman.
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