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 "