A woman answered the door. She looked to be in her mid-fifties but was trying desperately to make herself appear early-forties. Her hair was parted in the center and had waves and curls on each side. She had a print dress on with a pattern so busy I'm surprised it wasn't sweating.
She looked me over. "Well, well. What can I do for you, Mister...?"
"Randall. Jacob Randall. And I'm considering signing up for dance lessons."
She smiled, "Are you now? There's only one reason a man signs up for dance lessons. So what's her name?"
I smiled...