Hannah looked at her college classmates with sheepish eyes. Her credit card had just been taken by the bartender at their favorite hangout and not returned to her.
"I'm sorry, Hannah," he said, "the system says that I have to keep your card."
"Walt, it has to be a mistake. I'll check on it right away," she said, giving him her best smile.
"Gosh, I could lose my job if I give it back to you. The owner says that if we don't seize cards when we are told to that they can give up the right to take credit cards."
The bartender looked at the beautiful blonde sympathetically.
"I wish I could help. I really do," he said as he put the credit card in the register. "I'll comp you the drink for free."
The other young women looked at each other and snickered.
Hannah felt her face redden slightly in embarrassment. She was the only one of her friends who didn't have a rich dad who could finance college for her. Hannah had come from the same upper society that all of these other girls came from but her father had taken losses in the stock market that had wiped out his wealth. He continued to put on a front as if he was rich, but Hannah knew the truth. There was no money that came from her dad to help her.
"I hope that Daddy didn't get mad at me for spending as much as I did last month," she said with a smile to the other college students. "He may have cut me off!" She sensed that the other girls were skeptical of her claim.
It was all a lie, of course, but she couldn't admit that she had lost her social status in the group. Her father didn't give her a nickel for anything and was living a pretense himself as he was trying to keep his head above water.
As much as she tried to keep up with the other girls, she simply couldn't and it had taken a bad turn today.
*****
The country and western dance hall was filled to capacity. The music blared and the people crowded on the floor.
Hannah sat with a group of her college friends, a good mix of young men and women. She was sipping on a long-neck beer despite the fact that she was only 19 years old. It was not hard to get away with drinking in the dance hall. Her right hand had a large X on it in black marker so one of the guys had to buy the beer. She kept her right hand down just below the table and used her left hand to drink the beer.
She came with her group often to the saloon on college nights when someone under 21 could get into the bar. The staff did not police the bar very strictly and she had never seen anyone under 21 get into trouble for drinking.
The group was a group only in the loosest sense. They regularly came to the dance hall on Thursdays because it was college night, but no one was attached to another although there were hints that some of the girls had slept with a boy who had gone with them after a night of drinking and dancing.
Hannah stayed away from that possibility. She didn't want to ruin her reputation by a slip-up with a young man who would doubtless tell his friends about an interlude with her.
She looked at the crowd dancing on the floor. It was a mix of college students and older blue-collar workers, both men and women. She could also spot younger people who were clearly not college students in the crowd. Most of them were fantastic dancers who contrasted with the college students who were just learning to two-step.
It occurred to her that the social status of the dancers was easy to pick out. She hated that she was so shallow as to always reduce her views of a person to how much money they had, but it was clear that a person could be easily categorized. The college students were all very well dressed in her eyes. The college girls generally wore daisy duke denim shorts with boots, a sleeveless top and a crunched-up cowboy hat. Hannah was no different.
The blue-collar women wore very tight jeans and a cowgirl shirt. They did not wear hats.
The blue-collar men dressed differently. All wore blue jeans and boots but some wore very expensive looking cowboy shirts and belts. Most wore cowboy hats that looked authentic and real. Then there were the blue-collar men who wore either a tight t-shirt or some other tight shirt that was designed to show off their well-muscled upper bodies.
Hannah found these tacky but had to admit that the men looked very hard and masculine.
The groups seemed to mingle fairly easily and Hannah and her girlfriends would dance with whomever asked, so long as the man was not drunk. That is, if they knew that the man was a good dancer. It was a fun way to learn to dance well.
Her mind drifted to her money problems. She was two days late on her rent and her two roommates were waiting on her to pay their own rent. By the next morning, she was going to have to confess to them that she didn't have the money. She bit her lower lip. Her anxiety was very high about her situation.
She was unaware of a man approaching her to ask her to dance. He had eyed her from several tables away, seeing that she was somehow preoccupied. But he also saw her shapely legs and ass, and buxom top. She was clearly a beautiful young woman.
"Would you care to dance?" he asked.
Hannah broke out of her reverie. Her blue eyes met his and she put her beer down on the table. "Sure," she replied. She noticed his eyes go to the X on her right hand and a smile cross his weathered face.
Hannah smiled at him, revealing her perfectly straight, white teeth.
He smiled back. She saw a very nice smile, too. He appeared to be in his late 40s. His jeans were faded and tight around his muscular legs. He wore a black button-down shirt that was also tight and had the top two buttons undone revealing a chiseled chest. The sleeves were much shorter than usual but were there. He clearly chose it to reveal his biceps which were large. His black cowboy hat was real.
Hannah noticed that he didn't try to hold her hand as they walked to the dance floor. It was nice in her view that he didn't, but many of the blue-collar guys did as they led the girl towards the floor. It was really no big deal if they did, but it often seemed to her that it was a bit of a dominant trait and made her aware that the guy might try to dance too close.
She walked ahead of him towards the dance floor and was certain that he was taking in her skimpily clad body.
In fact, he was. He glanced at the college girl's ass, barely covered by her jean shorts, and shapely, naked legs. She had a bubble butt and a very slender waist. Her top was sleeveless and when she turned to face him to dance, he realized that her boobs were very large and full for her slender frame. Her face was gorgeous.
He was not boorish. When he took her right hand into his left and his right hand went to her back, his eyes did not leave hers. He had seen enough of her body.
As the music started, Hannah was impressed with his dancing. They glided along effortlessly and any mis-step was hers but drew a friendly smile from him as he guided her back into step. Her left hand was on his right bicep and she was aware of how powerfully built he was. He was only a couple inches taller than her, but thick and very muscular. His face was craggy. He was not handsome at all and Hannah realized quickly that his head was shaved beneath his hat.
They made small talk during the first dance and she felt comfortable enough to confess her money problems to him during the second dance. He was listening sympathetically when the song ended.
Leading her back to her table, he held her hand briefly.
"Mind if I ask you to dance again?" he inquired leaning in so that he could be heard over the loud music.
"No, of course not," she replied. "You're a wonderful dancer."
"My name's Leroy," he said.
"Hannah," she replied.
He spun on his heel and left her with her friends.
Hannah danced with other people over the next hour or so and steadily drank a couple more long-necks. She wasn't drunk, but she was buzzed. Her depression deepened over the rent.
Most of the people at her table were on the dance floor when Leroy approached again.
Hannah readily agreed to dance and the made their way through the crowd.
They talked while dancing, but Hannah sensed a tension in the man. She asked him about it and he admitted he had a question for her. She laughingly spent the next minute trying to pry the question out of him.
Finally, he spoke.
