Dancing In The Dark
Lida Rose
The lid was on. The Press Briefing Room was deserted, dark and silent. It
was the perfect setting. Sam Seaborn moved into the room quietly. He needed
a place with lots of space, a place he had clearance for, a place where he
wouldn't be discovered. It also had to have a VCR and TV.
The White House Deputy Director of Communications was watching the entrances
and exits carefully. At this late hour, he decided he was safe, especially
if he didn't turn on any more lights. Sam failed to notice one bright light
burning in the back cubicles.
He moved to the platform where C.J.'s lectern stood. He placed pieces of
paper on the floor. Sam moved over to the nearest VCR and popped in a tape.
He hit the play button and took a deep breath.
A booming and cheerful British voice startled him. "Are we ready now to get
those twinkle toes going?"
"Give me a second.", Sam replied to the screen as he scrambled back to the
platform. He stumbled going up the steps.
Sam placed his feet at the back of the numbered footprints. He prepared to
do the box step.
His TV teacher intoned, "Here we go. Right foot first. Forward. Side. Back.
Side, step. Keep the tread light and remember you'll be leading a partner.
Repeat."
His White House pupil lost track of what the genial voice was calling out.
Sam wondered aloud, "Was that right foot forward and then back or side? Are
these numbers on the foot prints right? Am I trying to dance the woman's
part?"
He sighed and hopped down to the VCR. He rewound the tape and started it
again. This time, Sam managed to mechanically move through two counts of the
box step.
"Benji the Brit" as Sam mentally dubbed him was now exhorting Sam to "turn,
whirl and step". The picture switched from Benji and his shiny black spats
to Benji and a buxom brunette spinning. Sam was trying to figure out how to
make a turn and still keep the footprint planted under his foot.
Another attempt to follow the instructions for turning and Sam landed on his
dignity. Sam sighed again, but it was louder this time. It was followed by
the sound of someone's throat clearing.
"Damn.", Sam thought, "I'm busted."
"Sam, that is no way to learn to dance. That is what you're doing? Or trying
to do?"
"Yes, Mrs. Landingham. I didn't think anyone was still around."
"There's always something to do and always someone hanging around." The
President's secretary moved to the VCR and turned it off. Sam realized the
chirping, endlessly cheery tones of Benji the Brit had started to pound a
headache into his brain. Sam was grateful for the silence.
Mrs. Landingham let him have another peaceful moment. She asked softly, "Why
are you trying to learn to dance?"
He shrugged. "I never really learned. It's a good skill to have, women like
it."
"And a good looking young man like you needs help with women?"
"Well, Mrs. Landingham, my dance card isn't really full these days. I've got
some weddings and a school reunion coming up in the next couple of months.
Hey, it's never to early to prepare for the second set of Inaugural Balls."
She smiled at that. "You're never going to learn from that silly tape."
"You mean, I'm hopeless." Sam's voice had a plaintive note that tugged at
Mrs. Landingham's heart.
"Of course not." She spoke in brisk tones that matched her gait. She was up
on the stage with him. "On your feet, Sam."
"Yes ma'am."
Mrs. Landingham kicked the paper footprints out of the way. "Now, remember
this is a fun experience. You're the man, you're in charge, set a relaxed
pace. You're going to guide me in this delightful diversion."
"You know how to dance?"
"I met my husband at a dance. He saw me on the dance floor and realized I
was trying desperately not to lead my inept partner. He cut in and saved me
from getting my feet trampled. We never stopped loving an evening out
dancing."
Sam swallowed hard and prepared to admit a shortcoming. "I have two left
feet, Mrs. Landingham."
She offered him a wistful smile as she moved him into the traditional dance
position. "That's okay, dear. My son, Simon used to say that. He said
Andrew, his twin got the two right feet. But I got them on the right path."
"I'm sorry." Sam squeezed her hand where it rested on his shoulder. He put
the other arm around her, ready to lead, ready to learn.
"Thank you, Sam. Now, remember, it's all about counting and we just have to
go to four. A brilliant mind like yours can do that. It's also about
relaxing and we'll get you to that point."
"Counting and then relaxing, got it." Sam was tensing up.
"You need to breathe too. We both need to breathe. Loosen your hold on me a
bit."
"Fine, breathe, count, relax."
"Sam, it's the box step. Start with your right foot...wait, instead of dance
position, just hold my hands."
"Great. That way I can watch my feet." Sam felt relieved.
"Not for long Sam. You will be looking into your partner's eyes. Romance,
Sam, romance."
"Okay, breathe, count, relax, romance. Let's do it Mrs. Landingham."
"Right foot, that's this one, Sam."
"Thanks."
"Of course dear. Right foot, front; left together; right food side and left
together, then back and together. That's the box step."
"I've got it."
"No, but you will before we're through. Again." Mrs. Landingham patiently
led Sam in the box step. In a few minutes, he had it and was looking at her
instead of at their feet.
She moved him into the traditional dance position. That didn't seem to throw
him too much and they kept doing the box step.
"Let's get serious.", Mrs. Landingham announced. She walked back to the
electronic equipment bank and turned on a tuner. She found a radio station
with music suitable for dancing. "Hear it Sam, feel the music. Time to stop
wearing out the floor in one place and get moving."
He gulped. "You sure?"
"I'm willing to risk my feet but not my reputation. You CAN do this."
"I'll lead, right?"
"That's how it usually goes."
"Just call me Fred Astaire."
"No dear, not just yet."
"Oh, well it gives me something to shoot for." Sam began the box step in a
halting manner. It became a little smoother as the music seeped into his
brain.
"Don't count out loud, Sam. Keep it inside."
"Right. I need to look at you, not my feet." As he raised his eyes, he
stomped on Mrs. Landingham's foot. She blanched but didn't scream or miss a
beat.
"Well, that's out of the way. You don't have to worry about stepping on me."
"I guess, that's good."
"Sam, time to take a risk. We're going to the next level. Time to make a
turn and cover a bigger area of our dance floor."
"Am I ready?"
"No time like the present to find out." She talked him through the course
change and they executed it. The slow turns and box steps around the make
believe ballroom continued.
Sam relaxed more as Mrs. Landingham continued her gentle tutoring. He even
smiled, she returned the smile with a bit of pride evident.
There was another smile at the back of the room. Danny Concannon was working
late in his little nook. Sam hadn't noticed the light.
Danny had enjoyed this unexpected show from the beginning. He got a kick out
of Sam's clumsy but determined efforts to follow the tape. Mrs. Landingham's
rescue mission saved Danny from going out to offer advice.
The dancers tried another turn and Sam nearly stumbled. But he caught
himself and Danny laughed his approval.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and a stern voice declare, "You can't write
about this."
"I know that C.J.", Danny sighed. "Just savoring the show."
C.J. Cregg had been lured into her Briefing Room by the sound of the music.
"What's the story, Concannon?"
"Remember, it's unconfirmed. Apparently, Sam can't dance. He sneaked in here
to try and learn using a cheesy video tape and those paper footprints."
"I can confirm, he can't dance. How'd he do?"
"Lucky for Sam, Mrs. Landingham came in and rescued him. Ever see 'Hello
Dolly'? She reminds me of 'Dolly Levi' teaching 'Cornelius Hacker' to dance
in the number 'Dancing.'"
C.J. laughed. "I would imagine Mrs. Landingham could do anything. But, you
can't write about it Danny."
"You already said that. Still, maybe this is the stuff people should know
about. People working so late into the night, bonded not just by common
goals but by family ties they've forged. It puts quite a human face on the
Bartlet White House."
She still had her hand on Danny's shoulder. She squeezed it and softly said,
"Maybe, you're right. Sorry, for now it's private."
"Fine, but it's a great scene." He pulled C.J.'s hand over his shoulder and
brought it to his lips. That moved her head nearer his shoulder. She rested
it there as he held her hand to his heart.
"He's doing better, don't you think, Danny?"
"Well...", Danny was still dubious. "He'll probably do okay by his 20 year
reunion."
"High school or college?", they shared a laugh over her question.
"C.J., I was about to go out there and help. But, luckily Mrs. Landingham
beat me to it."
"You and Sam dancing, there's a picture."
"I was trying to figure out who would lead."
"Thanks again, for that image."
They fell silent as they watched Mrs. Landingham and Sam dancing more
comfortably along the platform.
C.J. moved her free hand around Danny's waist. She leaned in to whisper in
his ear. "I'll let you lead." She followed the offer with a line of gentle
kisses down his jaw line.
"Oh yeah?"
"Uh-huh."
"Should we join them on the Briefing Room dance floor?"
"No, I think we should consider everyone's privacy. So how about it?"
Danny considered her request. "Hmmm, I might prefer watching you do 'The
Dance Of The Seven Veils' or since we're talking musical theatre, you could
pretend to be 'Gypsy Rose Lee' plying her trade."
"Are you tired of 'The Jackal'?" C.J. continued trailing kisses on him. She
was pleased that Danny's breathing was a little ragged.
"Never happen. I guess I'll let those solo performances wait until we're
home."
"I promise, it'll be worth your while."
"It always is. Until then, I'd love to dance with you here." He maneuvered
her into his arms and dipped her toward the floor. Then, he pulled her
upright and held her close as they danced in silence.
They let the music continue to speak for them. But their mouths were busy
with kisses that began at gentle and built to passionate. C.J. and Danny
moved to their own beat with the songs, lost in their own world of romance.
Their motions were smoother and more practiced than Sam and Mrs. Landingham.
Whether friends or lovers, both couples found escape and release from the
everyday pressures of the White House dancing in the dark.
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