The air - crisp and fresh – filled her lungs as she whirled to the tune of a Strauss waltz – cheekily played in the key of G in 5/5 time.
He pulled her closer – his undeniable studliness alarming her cabal of spinster aunties and homely female cousins, who whispered woefully or secretly sneered sullenly.
"I heaw thewe is a crithith in publithing, thir! Ith it twue?" She lisped, sending her retainer flying across the ballroom floor - boldly going where no orthodonic appliance had ever ventured in at least a fortnight.
"Not a crisis, but a modern enterprise, Miss Sweatermeet," he corrected as he flung her into a deep dip, snatched up her custom fitted mouthpiece, deftly popped it past her virgin lips and smiled seductively. "
"Shall we retire to your bower to discuss it further?"
"Wild hortheth couldn't dwagoon me away, Genewal Mayhem." she breathed breathily in reply.
General Mayhem! My dear dog, who knew Grandmother Snark's first gentleman caller would make an appearance!!