Just before that moment came, she felt firm hands come up against her spine to support her weight. It was Anonymous, but she wouldn’t have cared if it was a demon from Tartarus. Transferring her weight to him let Honour release her grip on the pole and she tried, as delicately as she could, to lift her back and put her hind hooves on the ground again. She wobbled for a moment, but her dance partner kept his hands on her, shifting his grip to her flanks and barrel. Honour was panting, there was foam at her neck, and she felt like she’d drenched that scandalously elegant dress of hers in sweat.