The sound that a silk skirt makes as it rubs along nylon stockings  could be heard clearly throughout that room, shushing saucily with the annoying tiptap of stiletto heels on the marble floor.  "Why me ?" you ask myself inwardly.  "Because you’re prettier than the two of us," your friend Michelle said, and that was  the happy thought you carried preparing for this day. Yes, you are taller than both Michelle and the barely five feet Babylyn, and yes, you have a much fairer skin, and yes, your English is almost flawless, and yes, you believe them. Flattery clouds mental judgement.