Lyrics in the Lines

You Don't Own Me

"Are you ready, Miss?"

I smoothed down the onyx silk that formed the bottom of my dress and gently tapped the intricate braid woven through my hair. Once I was satisfied there was nothing out of place, I nodded at the doorman, smiling graciously as he pulled down the golden door handle and stepped out onto the balcony.

"Announcing: Miss Desrosiers." His impossibly brief introduction dispensed with, he stepped back into the corridor, allowing me to take his place.

A smile still glowing on my face, I stepped onto the balcony and took in the ballroom below. Hundreds of people crowded the polished marble floor, half waltzing on the central dance floor while the rest gossipped at the edges. It was this half who turned their heads to scrutinise me as I began to descend the staircase, the plush velvet carpet mercifully providing enough friction to stop my heels for slipping: landing in an ungraceful heap at the bottom of the stairs was not the entrance I hoped to make. I kept my head high as I walked down, avoiding the gaze of any onlookers, who I knew would be judging my dress; my figure; my hair and my makeup. I also knew that they would find nothing to criticise. Some girls make the mistake of thinking that an expensive dress or a designer label could make them look stunning. Others relied on extreme diets or inch thick makeup. But my mother had always taught me that there was nothing more sexy than confidence. So long as I entered a room looking like I owned the place, its occupants would fall at my feet.

At the bottom of the stairs a boy waited to greet me. He was broodingly handsome, with long dark hair and smoky eyes. My pulse quickened as he took my hand in his, kissing it lightly. "Esmeralda, you are stunning tonight, as always."

"Thank you, Anthony. Impressive work; your sister's party planning skills are insurmountable. Everyone is here."

"And yet, I've been waiting for only one."

I laughed, refusing to take him seriously. "You flirt too much for your own good. But you'll dance with me later?"

"How about now?"

I shook my head, gesturing to the top of the stairs where another young lady had already appeared on the balcony. "You have guests to greet and I have drinks to consume. But I will find you again later."

"I look forward to it." He kissed my hand again and I smiled before turning away from him and heading towards the bar. I had only made it half way when someone else stopped me.

"Esmeralda! How are you, my darling?"

Nicholas was golden sunshine to Anthony's brooding darkness. His hair glowed even in the subdued lighting of the ballroom, his eyes the bright blue of a summer's day.

I kept my laugh light, but my own blue eyes were more steel than sky. "I'm no one's darling, Nicholas. You know that. I wish you wouldn't tease me so."

Nicholas held a hand to his heart. "Shattered!" he told me, his eyes wide. "How could you be so cruel, Miss Desrosiers?"

"I'm sure you'll live, Nicholas. There are a flock of pretty girls desperate to put the pieces back together."

"Unfortunately, none are as divine as you."

I smiled at his hyperbolic flattery, restraining myself from rolling my eyes.

"Will you dance with me?"

"Of course I will Nicholas - but not until later. The first thing I am going to do is get myself a drink." I excused myself with a further smile and continued on towards the bar. My skirt rustled slightly as I walked. It was one of the nicest dresses I had ever worn. The bust was fitted and covered in tiny, shimmering beads of gold; it began at the base of my neck, slopping under my arms so that the back was completely absent. The skirt began at my waist in a wide band of onyx silk, before flaring down to the floor. Towering black heels were concealed beneath my dress, giving me a hidden edge of height. My lips were stained a deep burgundy, my eyes slashed with golden shadow.