Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Kim Possible. I use them as my marionettes... Dance my puppets, DANCE!

Author's Note: This is for a challenge from whitem. Chester Yapsy gets a girlfriend.

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Here I am on the stage dancing for strangers, again. When I started to do this it was to get tuition and book money. That was before I flunked out of school. I was going to be a psychologist and help people. Now all that I use what school I had is to know how to soak a few extra dollars out of someone.

I audibly sigh while I am dancing. Tonight is slow. The half a dozen guys in the semi-dark are stingy with their money. I will be lucky to make two hundred dollars tonight, and rent is due on Friday. I mentally shudder at the thought of what I might have to do. It's not like it is a new occurrence, unfortunately. As the song changes and I begin to peel off my top, I hear a quiet shuffle at the right side of the stage. I take a quick glance and a smile erupts on my face. Tonight might be turning around after all.

I stop the listless movements and actually start to dance. He doesn't like the vulgar stuff that most of the girls here do; he also doesn't like the posing that the others attempt. He comes here to see me DANCE. I guess it does say something that knowing one person actually comes to see you do what you are billed as. I dance the rest of the song, barely removing the rest of my clothes before the song ends with me in my T-back and stiletto heels kneeling in front of him to accept his tip.

I am floored by the bill. It is half of what I thought I would make tonight. I know he will be around for at least two or three more sets. The numbers start to add up. If I ask him if he wants a table or booth dance will yield the amount of the dance without having to do it. He is sweet that way. Luckily, he is only sweet on me that way here. I would hate to have to fight off the rest of the girls. The reason that he comes here is me is an unspoken fact. On occasions I am able to steer some money to another girl that is having some problems, but it is at my discretion. I smile wickedly at the thought as I get dressed in something more conservative, before I return to the floor, making a bee line to his table.

I know what he is going to ask me. Before he gave me the tip. It is what he has asked every time he has come in for the past three months. We have dated. Nothing much, just dinner, usually at secluded spots. He is always courteous; I am always thankful. We hold hands, a small peck on the cheek, that's all. But, he has been offering more. Not the way most guys would, but then, he isn't a guy; he is a gentleman. I don't know if it is because of pity, or what, but he keeps asking me to marry him.

Big step, I know. He is kind, and gentle, and caring, and I know I would never want for anything. It isn't like I don't have feelings for him. I do, but they are like the feelings you would have for a lost puppy. I have felt this way before, once. I knew it wouldn't work out then, but now? I sigh, then paste the smile on my face as I tap him on the shoulder and whisper in his ear.

"Hi, Chester, mind if I sit with you?"

"Oh, no, not at all," he says as he stands up.

He takes my hand and guides me to the chair next to his. He pulls out the chair and holds it for me as I sit. See? He is sweet like that.

He re-takes his seat and smiles at me with that goofy grin. Every time that I see it I am reminded of the one that I knew I could never have. "I am glad you are dancing tonight. I never know your schedule, and don't really come here for any other reason," he babbles as he picks up his glass of red wine and takes a swallow of it.

"Silly, I gave you my cell number. You could call me, or beep me."

"I wouldn't want to bother you. I am sure you have other things that you have to do..."

I stop him with a finger to his lips. He has the embarrassed little boy look on his face, and then he kissed my finger. "I don't give that number out to just anyone. My boss doesn't even have it. I can think of five people that have that number, and you are one of them."

Even in the darkness I see the blush cover his face. He motions for another wine for him, and a drink for me. At work I drink cranberry spritzers, though the patrons don't need to know that. We engage in idle chit-chat until my next set comes up. Again he is the only one that tips me, again it is my friend Benjamin. I return to the table, this time in something low-cut, but elegant. As I approach the table, I know he is going to ask again, and I know that this time I will say yes.

It's not for love, or at least not yet. Companionship, possibly, I do enjoy being around him, and he me. Friendship? After a fashion, yes. But, if I am to be truthful, it is mainly the security. I know he will make sure that I want for nothing, and I know he will ask for nothing that I am not prepared to offer. There are times that I have attended a gallery opening with him and we had to dance (excuse the phrase) about who I was and what I did. This way he will have a Cuddle Buddy that will cuddle him back.

"Tara?"

I turn to him smiling.

"I know I have asked this before." He takes my hand. Yes he has asked this so many times before, in the same way. "Would you move in with me. I mean, we like each other, and I know that you don't care for dancing like this. You wouldn't have to work at all, and you wouldn't have to worry about finances. You know I wouldn't ask for anything..."

Again I put my finger to his lips to stop him from speaking. I know I have total control over him and our relationship. "Chester, I accept." I pull my finger away from his lips and place mine softly against his.