Greetings, Friends! It's party time at the Wonka Chocolate Factory, and our Sarah is about to embark on a real adventure! I apologize if the French translations aren't perfect—I don't speak the language and am not really good at using translation websites yet…lol. Also, this chapter does have a few elements of a song fic in it, because this IS a ballroom scene, but I tried not to overdo it. If you would, please R & R and let me know what you think.

As always, I do not own any characters created by R. Dahl, and am not making any profit off of this piece of fiction. The only characters I own are the ones I make up in my poor widdle brain……so please, noooo touchie!

Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Party Time At The Factory

Ugh……less than halfway through this shindig and I'm already bored to tears……

Sarah looked around the brightly lit ballroom with a sigh, beginning to wish she hadn't been so stubborn and had sold the darn silver ticket to the highest bidder. Contrary to what she had expected, so far the birthday party of the century had been, well, to put it bluntly, a resounding flop. Oh, the 10 piece orchestra was tolerable, the edibles were delicious, especially the large display of various chocolates, and the lighted champagne fountain was a nice touch. It was the utterly refined atmosphere in the ballroom which was the real let down. It had more of the "art gallery opening" feeling than a young man's birthday celebration.

After a few brief attempts at making conversation with the other guests, Sarah used the excuse of her voluminous skirts to commandeer one of the low, padded benches along one wall of the ballroom all for her own use. Scanning the room, she saw a wide variety of costumes, and was glad she hadn't gone with Dorothy when she saw at least two of them in the crowd. She did find one thing rather interesting about the crowd attending the birthday gala; they all appeared to be between 18 and 55—no children or elderly among the winning ticket holders. The other thing of interest she noted was the posting of gentlemen in tuxedos and ladies in black and white patterned gowns, all wearing half black/half white masquerade masks. Part of the entertainment, perhaps, or hired dancers to occupy the wallflowers? Sarah speculated that perhaps Wonka himself had decided that extra security was needed for such an important event. Stifling a sigh of boredom, her mind drifted back to the interesting meeting she had had with the party's hosts earlier in the evening.

After emerging from the limousine, Sarah had walked down the wide canopied red carpet to the center door of the triple entryway. A short little man dressed in an odd sort of livery had taken her ticket and checked her off the list on his PDA before directing her to the ballroom.

The host of the gala and the birthday boy himself were standing side by side at the bottom of the stairs, waiting to greet the incoming guests. Sarah had felt herself flush slightly behind her mask on a stick as she saw their eyes widen as she gracefully descended the steps before them. To her surprise, it was Willy Wonka who spoke first, making no attempt to greet her physically as he maintained his grip with both hands on his candy sprinkle filled cane in front of him.

"My, My, My, aren't you just a peach?" Her host looked quite regal this evening in Royal blue velvet jacket, fuchsia leather gloves, tight gray trousers tucked into shiny, calf length heeled boots, white ruffled shirt and top hat, his legendary "W" diamond pin gleaming at his throat. She detected a glint of humor in his eyes, which peered at her from behind violet John Lennon-style lenses, and she realized from the fruit reference that he recognized her costume's origins. Feeling confident, she lowered her mask and answered him with the first thing that came to mind.

"If you're saying that I look good enough to eat, I thank you for the compliment. You are looking rather divine yourself, as I'm sure you already know. But please, don't tell His Highness I said so…..Jareth has a tendency to throw his balls at any man I dare to flirt with." With a brilliant smile, she turned to face Charlie Bucket, missing the wide grin that crossed her host's face at her witty comeback.

The Guest of Honor was elegantly decked out as The Phantom Of The Opera, complete with black leather gloves, cape and elegant evening wear, his hair smoothed back with brilliantine. His eyes glowed from behind his white half mask as he snatched up her hand gallantly and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles in a romantic gesture.

"Dites-si vous plait moi que vous avez laissé ce bellâtre Raoul et êtes revenu pour être ma jeune mariée vivante, ma belle Christine !" (Please tell me you've left that fop Raoul and have come back to be my living bride, my beautiful Christine!)

Surprised and amused at his embracing his role of the French opera house ghost so thoroughly, Sarah decided to play along. "Désolé, le garçon d'anniversaire, mais moi chantent comme un crapaud et je déteste absolument l'opéra. J'ai peur que vous soyez hors de la chance, M. Phantom." ( Sorry, birthday boy, but I sing like a toad and I absolutely detest opera. I'm afraid you're out of luck, Mr. Phantom.)

Charlie pouted, trying to look severe but failing miserably at that, broke into a wide grin. " Ah, well….looks like I am doomed to spend eternity in the darkness of my solitude. Enchanté, Mlle ?"

"Shawe, Sarah Shaw. Tell you what though, …If it will cheer you up, I'll save you a dance, as long as you promise it will involve no trap doors or punjab lassooing."

His smile broke into an actual guffaw of laughter, which drew the attention of nearby guests. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Shawe. You speak French like a true Parisian…have you spent time on the Continent?"

Sarah smiled. "No, just several years in the classroom with a very exacting teacher. I never dreamed it would come in handy." With a gentle squeeze and a smile, she removed her hand from his and moved away, leaving the two men to savor the delicious fragrance of her lavender-vanilla perfume.

Charlie looked over at his mentor to see him gazing after Sarah as well. "Now that" gesturing at the retreating figure in white as she moved toward the buffet table "just might make putting up with this evening's tomfoolery worth while."

"My boy, you may be on to something, indeed." Willy stared off into space for a moment, a sly grin on his face as delicious thoughts of what he'd like to do with a certain young woman behind closed doors crossed his mind. Succulent, sweet and perfectly ripe…uh-huh, I'd say she's most definitely good enough to eat…' With a sigh, Willy shook himself before turning to greet the newest arrival.

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Sarah realized that she had been day dreaming, and she came back to the present with a start. At the moment the ballroom was about as lively as a morgue as people milled about looking supremely bored. Kicking her feet, Sarah examined the sequined appliques on her satin dancing slippers and wondered if she would even get scuff marks on them. Other than meeting the hosts, the event had been lamentably tame—not at all what one would expect from the world's greatest candy maker who was notorious for his eccentric behavior. After all---who had heard of a ball without dancing?

As if someone had heard her thoughts, the lighting above their heads went out suddenly, and a wide spotlight shone down on the landing of a large flight of stairs opposite the ballroom entryway. Their host and the guest of honor appeared as a large, obviously fake two layer cake with the number 21 in foot high letters atop it was wheeled out from a set of double doors. The orchestra began playing Happy Birthday as balloons and confetti drifted down from nets on the ceiling, and then the top of the cake exploded, showering everyone with glitter and streamers. A microphone appeared in their host's hand seemingly out of nowhere, and Willy used it to address the clapping and hooting guests.

"I want to thank each of you for travelling from all parts of the world to help me honor this young man on his 21st birthday. I have been privileged to have had played some small part.." the crowd chuckled.. "in his upbringing, and I am honored to have such a fine young man at my side to continue the Wonka chocolate legacy. That being said, I say let's cut out all this formal stuff and get the real party started, kay?"

With that, he tossed the microphone away and all the lights went out at once and a large mirrored disco ball dropped from a whole in the ceiling, sending fragments of light everywhere. Panels flipped in the pillars around the room, revealing spinning octopus setups and flashing lighted that filled the room with random rainbow light patterns in time with La Bouche's Sweet Dreams, the base heavy techno music thudding into her brain.

Sweet Dreams of Rhythm and Dancing

Sweet Dreams of Passion Through The Night

Sweet Dreams are Taking Over

Sweet Dreams of Dancing Through The Night

Before the first chorus was over, the floor was filled with twisting, gyrating bodies. Sarah couldn't stop her feet from tapping to the music, but she made no move to join the dancers on the marble dance floor, preferring to observe for a while rather than participate. As the music switched tempo's to Evanescence's Bring Me To Life, she was approached by two polite young men who accepted her smiling refusal to dance with grace. It was during the third song of the set that the drunk who couldn't understand that no meant no spied her and honed in his target as Mr. Vain by Culture Beat throbbed on….

….I know what I want and I want it now,

I want you, cause I'm Mr. Vain….

Wearing a black Zorro costume that did nothing to disguise his middle age paunch, his dark eyes had the semi-glazed look of a man well on his way to being totally plastered as he grasped her hand and pulled her off her bench and onto the dance floor. "Hey….I'm Steve."

Sarah pulled back, freeing her arm. "Hi, I'm not interested, thanks anyway." She started back toward her bench, only to have him catch at her again. "Aw, come on now….just one dance?"

His deep Texas drawl grated on her nerves like fingernails on a blackboard. "No thank you….these new shoes are killing me and I don't feel like dancing right now. There's plenty of other ladies who I am sure would love to dance." She stepped back but he unfortunately followed, slipping an arm around her waist, his alcohol-laden breath warm against her neck as he spoke loudly over the pulsing music.

"Honey, I'd be happy to sweep you off your feet, cause you are P.H.A.T. phat….Mmmmm, Mmmmmm. Mmmmmmm, God, you look so innocent and yet so sexy in that dress that I just want to throw you down and make passionate love to you right here and now."

Something inside Sarah snapped. "You know, you're pretty phat too…pathetic, horny and trying my patience. Now, take your pole and line somewhere else, cause this fish isn't biting." She half shouted in his ear, pushing against him with genuine fear for her safety as she saw his expression change from teasing to irate.

Before she could take any other action, two of the masquerade mask wearing men appeared behind the drunken Texan and removed his unwelcome presence from her side. She sighed with relief, but was taken aback as a gloved hand slipped into hers from the other side. Startled, she turned to find her host looking down at her sardonically from over the rims of his violet-lenses.

"I believe this is my dance…."

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I know, I know….baaaaad Soli for leaving you with a cliff-hanger. Never fear, tho….much more ballroom action coming up in the next chapter!