You didn’t dance because it was necessarily a passion, but you were good—and the money was even better. You scored a spot on Solid Gold. The television program of the era.

You walked on set, crew members scurrying around to powder faces and clean stages.

You heard murmurs of the nation’s hero deigning to show up on set. Soldier Boy. Advertised as a hero with a heart of equally solid gold. You catch glimpses of Benjamin on set, and god, that gold might be a little ‘tarnished’. He bosses people around—cussing them out when they get his drink ‘all wrong’.

Your fellow backup dancers seem enraptured with him though, dreamy-eyed and dopey. You try not to dwell on it—and suit up in a glitzy costume, tight in all of the utmost of important places.

Walking to the makeup vanities, you hear a faint whistle. The set of this show wasn’t so professional, but no one dared to catcall the dancers. No one, until Ben. “Pretty lil’ thing.” He says with a glint in his eyes to match his glimmering grin.

You knew you’d have to hang all over the renowned guest star during the scenes. Blingy disco lights and all that glam with him at the very center.

Today’s number one on the billboard Hot 100:

Rapture by Blondie