Janet swept into the room like the god Zephyrus, all billowing skirts and flowing trestles of hair. Her pale skin did not look out of place among the company, though her heart beat attracted the attention of nearly everyone in the room.
She smiled at the gathered group of men and women, who gazed at her from under furrowed brows or feral smiles. She smiled at one, and bounced toward him – yet her father reached out, took her by the waist and pulled her aside. “What did I tell you!” he hissed at her, his eyes full of anger, his face red with embarrassment or fury, she couldn’t tell.
“I wanted to meet these people, papa. You never let me meet people.”
“I have my reasons,” he growled, releasing her. “You will go back to your room this instant!”
“Excuse me,” said a man, his raven-black hair down to his shoulders, his pale skin stark against his red shirt. “I do not believe I have had the chance to meet this charming woman.”
Her father straightened his jacket, and got that resolute look on his face. “This is my daughter, Janet. She was just leaving.”
Janet, meanwhile, preened. She gazed at the man’s pale eyes, and smiled her sweetest smile.
The man said, “Why, she has just arrived. I would dance with her.” He held out his hand.
Janet stared at him. He didn’t ask permission – he ordered his father to let her dance with him. She placed her gloved hand on his, and he turned from her father, escorting her to the dance floor.
(unfinished – was rudely interrupted by work)
Toasted Cheese writing prompt: Not a comfortable chair in the house.