November 2 Half of workers 'are ill-treated'

Justine pours herself from the kitchen to the sofa with and pats the shiny white leather seat to her left.
" Aren't you going to join me? "
The three waiters glanced to one another nervously.
" It's ok, my father owns the company "
Before they answer she giggles and stands up, adjusting her dress, opening her arms out in a well practiced pose, chin tilted towards the chandelier.
Music begins to play, violins, a tango. 

Bailemos
que no vea en tus pupilas
una lágrima furtiva,
ni una sombra, ni un dolor.
Bailemos

Let’s dance
may I not see in your eyes
a furtive tear,
not a shadow, not any pain
Let’s dance

The young men have no choices left, they have been here before. Ivor steps forward, " I'll dance with you Miss Justine "