At the front entrance of the Charmings' ball, you stand nervously waiting for Cinderella to arrive. In one hand, you hold a beautiful bouquet of flowers. You keep the other hand in your front pocket to keep from fidgeting.

Within moments, an elaborately decorated carriage pulls up. It's shaped somewhat strangely, but it's beautiful, and the horses are as silent as mice. The footman opens the door, and out steps Cinderella, a vision of loveliness in a silver-white gown that makes her look even more like an angel. Your eye gets caught by a twinkling at her hem, and you notice that her feet are tiny, and they're encased in shiny glass slippers. You look at her in wonder.

Cinderella's eyes meet yours, and she dazzles you with her smile, then notices the flowers. Her eyes widen, and you can't help but grin and hold the bouquet out to her.

"For you," you tell her huskily. "They're not nearly as beautiful as you are, though."

You notice her swift intake of breath and faint blush, and you want to forget about the ball. You wonder if a marriage proposal at this point is too soon in the relationship. It probably is, so instead, you ask:

"May I call you Cindy?"

Shyly, Cindy smiles and licks her lips. Her voice, barely audible, is sweet and musical, arousing. "You may call me yours," she tells you.

Your heart slams against your ribcage at her declaration. You can't wait to make her words true. Amazed at your incredible luck, you smile, take her sweet-scented hand, kiss it gallantly, and take her home to meet her future in-laws.

The ball is completely forgotten. You live happily ever after.