Vivienne would have chosen a song with a more extravagant beginning. She admitted it while Vera held her hand, before they had taken the first step. An extravagant beginning would have given her time to arrange her face, to decide how to enter the occasion. This music had begun without waiting for her. With her other hand on Vera's shoulder, she found she liked that. Still, she wanted one proper turn before it ended. The dress had arrived with expectations, she said, and some of those expectations belonged to the woman wearing it.
Vera brought both of them into the count. One, two, together: a small beginning for a woman requesting a proper turn. She confessed that counting had become necessary because Vivienne's hand had made her forget the beginning. It was hardly the recommendation a competent leader ought to give herself. Yet she kept them moving, with a warning that a magnificent hem need not reach the bookcase. She liked its movement. What troubled her was the direction of Vivienne's gaze, somewhere beyond her shoulder. Was she measuring their available space, or waiting for the music to offer something else?
Neither. Vivienne was watching their reflection in the window. She had wanted to see them together, but the glass supplied the back of Vera's head and a woman inspecting the appearance of her own delight. The inspection had become a distraction. She returned her attention to Vera and asked her to postpone the turn. First she wanted to learn this step without using Vera's shoulder to steer herself. Only then did she pick up the admission she had almost missed: her hand had unsettled Vera. That deserved more attention than the reflection. The glass could show her how she looked; Vera had just told her something she could not see there.
Vera confirmed it without retreating into the count. Her left hand had been perfectly competent until Vivienne put hers in it. Sideways, together, again: the step began to work. Then Vera made a less convenient admission. She wanted the turn too. Her caution about the room had given her somewhere to put her nerves, but they had enough space if she stopped keeping them on that particular patch of floor. She invited Vivienne towards the middle. The reflection would remain available afterwards. For the turn itself, Vera wanted the front of her face.
Vivienne offered it, less composed at this distance, and followed her two steps into the middle. Nothing went wrong. She almost announced that achievement, then resisted. What she asked for instead was the turn itself: the movement of her dress while she looked at Vera. If she laughed, Vera must not mistake it for a verdict on her technique. Being told that she interfered with Vera's competence, and then being invited closer, had given Vivienne quite enough to enjoy. She did not need the window to confirm the expression on her face now.
Vera risked giving her more. She led her round, and the whole turn happened. The hem behaved better than either woman had predicted. Having reached the thing they had been discussing, Vera did not stop there; she wanted the next few steps as well. Vivienne was smiling directly at her. That, Vera discovered, made counting even harder than holding her hand had. They could dispense with the numbers. She could hear the beat, and she would rather use her voice to tell Vivienne how beautiful she looked enjoying herself.
Vivienne agreed to abandon arithmetic, although a compliment like that was hardly assistance in remembering which foot came next. The foot found its place. She returned the compliment, finding Vera particularly beautiful when she forgot to look satisfied with her own arrangements. Meanwhile, the song was making room for its ending. Vivienne could hear it, but had not begun preparing an ending of her own. She asked for another dance while she was still enjoying this one. Then she added something Vera had not arranged: would Vera let her lead?
Yes, Vera said, but they would finish this dance first. When it ended, she could stop without pretending she had wanted to. She admitted she had hoped Vivienne would ask again; being asked to follow had not figured in that hope. She liked the offer. They would need to change hands, and Vivienne could choose the next record too. Vera wanted to hear what she would select now that an extravagant entrance was no longer required. The first song had carried them through the turn. The next choice belonged to Vivienne, already in the room.