The Dancing Queen

She was small and mousy, bespectacled little lady. There wasn’t anything striking about her to make you want to give her a second glance, to remember her. In fact her looks were quite ordinary making her easily very forgettable, just another face in the crowd. But she didn’t mind being that way, being lost in the crowd. cause she had a secret and she hoped to keep it that way.

Come Friday night, when the lights are low and everyone were looking for a place to go, she metamorphosed into a striking beauty, someone polar opposite from the way the world perceived her daily. She danced, she jived, having the time of her life. The dance floor was hers for the taking. She owned it, she ruled it. She was the queen of the dance floor, the queen of the night, the dancing queen.

Wherever she went eyes followed her, she was centre of every attention. Men wanted her, to dance with, spend the night with, all clamouring for, hoping for a little romance but given only half a chance. Women wanted to be her, wanted her, envious of her. Wherever she went their jealous eyes followed. Little did they know her secret.

But she didn’t mind, cause for those few hours she was the Cinderella of the dance floor, dancing and jiving, having the time of her life. She didn’t mind attention though she didn’t care for it. She just went on dancing the night away.

But come Monday she was back to her mousy, bespectacled, ordinary ways. She didn’t mind getting back to her ordinary self cause she enjoyed holding on to her secret that was hers to keep and for no one else to know. She knew that come the weekend and once again she would be the belle of the dance floor, the dancing queen.