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WARNING: For those of you who follow my work you will find that this is not my normal fare as it contains very little sex so if that's what you seek then you find most of my other stuff will more than fulfil your desires. This is a love story between a young girl and a man old enough to be her grandfather and another warning, it does contain detailed descriptions of dancing (yes that's right dancing!)
*****
*quot;What's this Mum?*quot;
*quot;It's called a dance card,*quot; laughed Nancy taking the yellowed card from her daughter and opening it carefully. As she stared at it she felt herself tear up as she read the name next to the box, 'Last Dance'.
*quot;You OK Mum?*quot; said Elizabeth, Nancy's 20-year-old daughter, soon to be 21 on the 1st of January, putting an arm around her mother.
*quot;It was your father's,*quot; Nancy laughed as she cheered up a little, *quot;When your father was a young man he was a bit of a dancer and a bit of a charmer. He would collect loads of the cards where he would write his name against the last dance and then give them out to the girls as they arrived at the dance hall. He always used to say, one of them had to say yes.*quot;
*quot;So how did you two meet?*quot; Elizabeth said as she loved hearing the story of the father she never knew and knew it would only take the briefest of nudges to get her mother talking.
*quot;Well,*quot; Nancy began, *quot;When I was younger I was a bit wilder than I am today...*quot;
*****
*quot;Nancy Surgeon I sentence you to 100 hours of community service.*quot; The judge paused and looked over the top of her glasses and stared at the young girl in front of her disapprovingly before continuing, *quot;And I would warn you that failure to comply with the order within six months will result in a custodial sentence.*quot;
*quot;Sweet fucking Jesus,*quot; Nancy said under her breath as she heard the gavel bang down. *quot;100 hours in six months, that's gonna cost me half a day a week for the next six months.*quot;
Nancy continued her muttering as she followed the directions of the court official until she found the room with the words 'Community Service Office.' Entering the bleak room she looked around at the walls where there were a variety of small postcards pinned on the boards with an assortment of labels ranging from 'Working with children' through to 'Outside work'.
Nancy was still upset with the judge as Community Service was tantamount to slave labour. What she had hoped for was the recently introduced ASBO (Anti-Social Behaviour Order) that would have been a badge of honour on the estate she lived on in a rough part of Streatham. OK she thought to herself they were being noisy and yes OK they did cause a little bit of damage, and perhaps they were a little bit drunk on cheap cider. But what the hell it was boring around the estate as she had nothing to do since leaving school three years ago at 16. The longer unemployment went on the worse her job prospects became but at least she wasn't pregnant like half her mates. Not that she was a virgin just she made sure she took precautions rather than leaving it to the idiot boys who were always sniffing around with grand promises in the hopes of getting inside her knickers. She didn't take drugs either, well perhaps the occasional spliff but nothing hardcore, she had no desire to end up like some of the skanks who would do anything for a rock or a twist of white powder.
She was still congratulating herself mentally when a voice from behind the screen in the corner shouted out, *quot;The cards have hours per week written on them so make sure you pick one that will allow you to complete your sentence. If you don't pick one before the end of the day then one will be allocated to you.*quot;
That would explain Nancy thought as to why the room was empty, as most of the offenders just took what they were given and then try to get out of it later. She on the other hand had been given some sound advice by her older brother before she appeared in court, *quot;If you get community service go to the room and have a pick, at least that way you won't get something shitty like cleaning out pig styes.*quot;
She ignored the ones saying farm work as it would wreck her nails and the thought of shovelling animal shit made her feel ill. She didn't fancy working with children as that wasn't as glamorous as it sounded and often involved cleaning toilets in nurseries so baby shit instead of animal shit. Picking up litter was just degrading and her hair would go frizzy in the damp, and worse of all the yellow hi-viz jacket looked awful.
Picking up a card she looked at it and considered it for a moment. 'Help at old people's tea dance. 4 hours per week must be able to dance.' *quot;Excellent,*quot; she thought to herself, she knew she could throw a few moves on the dance floor and with old people as well it should be an easy number. Walking over to the clerk behind the screen she handed it over, mentally congratulating herself on picking out what was going to be boring but an easy way of passing the time, if nothing else it would give her something to bonus veren siteler do. The good news was that she should be able to get it well finished by the end of the year, well the end of the millennium even if it was a shitty way to start it.
The clerk looked at the card and then leafed through the ledger to find the details. Writing the address on the back of the card she held it out to Nancy but didn't let go.

*quot;Now you listen up young lady. It says here that you need to dress correctly, jacket