A fair lady

Beautiful girls wear dresses.
This was my thought the other night as I wandered under antique chandeliers that flooded the ballroom of my imagination with warm, inviting light. My fingers ran over the foreign texture of the walls almost subconsciously, like a little child reaching out for anything new and exciting looking. The colors criss crossed each other up the massive walls and the Worchestor began to play. I could hear it from the lobby as I swung my embroidered evening bag from hand to hand and tapped back and forth over the elegant floors in my black stillettos. When I was young, I had eagerly awaited the day that I would be allowed to wear high heels so that I might produce that pleasing click and tap on floors just such as this one.
But beautiful girls wear dresses I thought again offhandedly, gazing toward the grand stair cases that circled around each side of the lobby. I could try for chic in these pants I mused considering their tight fit and dark color. I could possibly even pull off classy with my lacy black camisole and prim evening bag, but beautiful...that was reserved for girls in dresses. Listen to the songs and read the stories.
The enticing popcorn smell tantalized my tastebuds and I looked longingly across the room at the old timey popcorn machine that brimmed over with buttery goodness. How I would love a bag of popcorn. But then beautiful girls wear dresses. They strike you don't they? They spin about and glide, I suppose, or sway or slink. They take your heart captive or so I'm told. I clicked about some more, relishing the sound on that lovely floor...who could tell when I would ever have such a perfectly clickable surface again? I fancied that some one was watching me, wondering who I was waiting on and perhaps, why I should be kept waiting at all. It may be a young musician with a love for theater who would write in his journal about the lonely girl in stillettos clicking around under the chandelier and swinging her bag. Would he ask me to take off and grab some coffee with him? Forget about the movie, the popcorn and the clicking? Would I take him up on his offer with a coy grin? I sighed. How silly. But of course beautiful girls wear dresses. I have never been very good at being coy anyway.
The Worchestor continued to play and I noticed a woman in a lime green sun dress come tumbling through the door. Of course she didn't really tumble, but the green suggested such and her smile tripped around her mouth in the same fashion. She had a young man on her arm. Mayhap it was my musician with a taste for coffee and good conversation. Ah well. Beautiful girls wear dresses. And I went back to clicking.