Page 239 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

'Hi. Yah. Really nice to meet you. So can we have a dance?' he said, reverting

to the public schoolboy again.

'Well, I don't know, I'm sure,' I said, reverting to pissed floozy and giving an
involuntary raucous laugh like a prostitute in a Yates Wine Lodge.

'I mean out here. Just for a moment.'

I hesitated. I was flattered, to tell you the truth. What with this and performing
a miracle in front of Mark Darcy it was all starting to go to my head.

'Please,' pressed Simon. 'I've never danced with an older woman before. Oh,
gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean . . . ' he went on, seeing my face. 'I mean, someone
who's left school,' he said, seizing my hand passionately. 'Would you mind? I'd
be most awfully, awfully grateful.'

Simon Dalrymple had obviously been taught ballroom dancing from birth, so
it was rather nice being expertly guided to and fro, but the trouble was, he
seemed to have, well, not to put too fine a point on it, the most enormous
erection I've ever had the good fortune to come across, and us dancing so close it
was not the sort of thing one could pass off as a pencil case.

'I'll take over, now, Simon,' said a voice.

It was Mark Darcy.

'Come along. Back inside. You should be in bed now.'

Simon looked completely crushed. He blushed scarlet and hurried back into

the party.

'May I?' said Mark, holding out his hand to me.

'No,' I said, furious.