The Politics of Dancing
"What the fuck are we doing here. Seriously?" I growled in his ear. I was still smiling, and I doubt anyone was going to be lip reading.We were on the dance floor, my arms around his neck, slowly swaying to a crappy Lawrence Welk-wanna be band."You know what we're doing here, darling." His reply was sugar coated, sappy with his big grin. And why shouldn't he be smiling. He was dancing with the most beautiful woman in the place. The men were obviously jealous of his new trophy wife, and...