Dwight was behaving strangely. He’d asked her to check his messages twice, when usually he insisted on retrieving them himself. He swished his coffee thoughtfully before pouring it down the drain and repeatedly glanced up from his work, carving a path with his eyes between his desk and reception. He had been sitting at his desk with his coat on, eyes fixed on her for thirteen minutes before she finally gave up and started to gather her coat and purse.

Within seconds Dwight was out of his chair and at her elbow speaking as quickly and quietly as he could.

“Pam, there is something I must discuss with you. If you would come to work at 8:00 tomorrow morning I will be able to discuss the situation with adequate discretion”

Before she could even straighten up, let alone respond he, was gone, slamming the door behind him.

***

She spent the night rubbing circles on her forehead, trying to convince herself to ignore Dwight, or even better, call in sick. She fell asleep repeating “I won’t go in early” in her head and promised herself she’d use the extra time to pick up dish detergent and maybe get some coffee but before she knew it she was pulling into the parking lot and wasn’t surprised to see his Firebird in the parking lot.

In the elevator she rubbed her hands nervously and almost pressed the emergency stop button but she’d probably get a lecture on elevator safety which could be worse than whatever he had planned.

She hung up her coat and sure enough, she could hear the clink of glass in the break room and see that the conference room lights were turned on. She gritted her teeth and made her way nervously towards inevitable embarrassment.

***

“Pam, you are single correct?”

“Dwight, that is none of your business.”

“Fact: I found you in a state of distress exactly sixty-nine days ago. Fact: you have separated from your boyfriend. Fact: You are interested in a male in this office.”

“What do you want?”

“I have heard that you were a great comfort to a woman in this office recently. It is my duty as her- ahem as a Dunder Mifflin Employee to repay this debt and assist you in courting your mate.”

“I see.”

“Excellent, but first you must swear an unbreakable oath-”

“Like in Harry Potter? I though Toby took the wand…”

“SWEAR AN OATH to do exactly as I say upon pain of death”

“No, Dwight.”

Dwight sighed. “Fine. First of all you must attract your suitor. Clearly you will need some assistance.”

“What?”

“Pam, the mating dance is a time honoured tradition, which has been revered by Schrute men for centuries. Proper technique is crucial if you wish to attract your desired partner, even though your choice has virtually no scavenging skills or defensive training.”

“Great.”

“Like the Whooping Crane, your form must be perfect or else you will fail to capture the interest of your prey.”

“You know what, Dwight, maybe we should do this some other time; I think I need some time to think this out”

“You can’t hide Pam. Friday at seven at my dojo, there will be consequences if you do not attend”

It was past seven and she couldn’t believe that she was actually doing this because it was cold out, and she could have been home … but here she was, breaking speed limits trying to get there as quickly as possible. So Dwight could tech her about love …where had she gone wrong.

She had envisioned a great many strange and terrible scenarios, but when she heard Metallica -- and what sounded like a dying bird through the door, she paused and considered just turning around and going home. Before she knew it, a considerably rumpled Dwight opened the door and gazed at her with confusion.

“What are you doing here? You’re not in my Karate class,” he said bouncing back and forth between his feet. She cautiously pushed past him and headed straight for the stereo, quickly pausing the CD player.

Dwight was heading for a bottle of what she hoped was wine, swaying in a way that would have seemed normal, if it wasn’t Dwight.

“Are you okay?” Pam asked.

“So you’re joining the self defence class – excellent!”

“No,” Pam said slowly. “ You invited me here to -- um -- learn how to dance.”

“I am an excellent dancer, Angela said … oh blah, just -- turn on the music again”

She nodded, pressing play and turning down the volume. She watched Dwight for signs that he had any idea what he was doing,unconciously tapping her foot to the beat.

“Pam,” Dwight said. “Let me be frank. You are a terrible dancer. If you really want Jim you’ll have to act cool. Like me and the Jedi.”

“The Jedi?” Pam mouthed to herself. She looked back at Dwight. “Okay, what do I do?”

“Just watch me”

She watched patiently as Dwight went through a series of moves that appeared to be a mix of disco and karate - with a few air-guitar solos sprinkled thoughout. He stopped three times to tie his shoes before he motioned for her to stop the stereo and walked towards her.

“Are you ready to begin? Good. First you must bow and acknowledge - verbally -- my superiority on the dance floor.”

Pam grimaced and stiffly leaned forward a little.

“Hmm, needs work,” Dwight said, frowning.

They’d been trying various dances for the past two minutes, and Pam – so far, had stepped on his feet four times, poked him in the side (accidently) and almost fallen over twice.

“Well,” Dwight continued, “you need all the time we have, so we’d better start. First your stance must always accommodate for attack -- from the front and back. Motions should be unpredictable, but polished. Although you may never achieve the true skills I posses I think you will achieve a level of mediocrity many will envy.”

“Thank you for that, Dwight – I think,” Pam said, trying not to make a face.

“Question: are you familiar with Ausdruckstanz and if so are you interested in extensive training?”

This was going to be a long night

***

Dwight was draped over a pile of mats by the end of the night and Pam felt she would probably have “Hit The Lights” stuck in her head forever. Not to mention where her arm hurts from where Dwight accidentally smacked her, doing a guitar solo.

The next day, at work, Dwight looked the same as always but he suddenly tilted his head towards Jim and did what he calls “pulling the beet” and she found herself grinning wildly.

This was going to be an interesting day (Look out Jim Halpert.)

“Peoples!” Michael called out. “It is now the time that everyone has been waiting for… drum roll, pleaseeeee –"

Dwight made a “drum roll” sound with his lips.

“…Our annual Dunder-Mifflin Scranton dance-off contest! Yeah!!!”

“Yeah!” Dwight exclaimed.

“Now, let’s get it on! Come on Pam, Ryan, Angela, let’s get in the conference room! And, Stanley... I cannot wait to see some of your moves, ‘mon.”

“I am not dancing,” Stanley grumbled.

“Yes you are, or I will make you dance.”

Pam walked into the conference room, studying Dwight for any sign that he might have been behind this. He seemed extremely busy following Angela, and avoiding her gaze. Hmmm. Andy was already standing in the middle of the room doing the robot, and Jim was leaning against the wall, looking mildly surprised. Taking a deep breath, she walked over and settled into the chair beside him

“What are you grinning at, Beesly?” he asked as soon as she’d sat down.

“You’re not gonna go out there?” Pam raised an eyebrow at him.

“Wow, are you?” he asked, tipping his head forward.

“Well, Dwight did take the time to teach me how to dance,” she said, glancing sideways waiting for his reaction.

“No way,” he said, shaking his head and smiling. “So – um, how about a little chicken dance-action, Beesly? Ten to one, I could out-chicken you.”

“Ha, my chicken could beat your chicken all over town, and, besides -- Dwight taught me how to dance the cool way, she laughed, leaning back.

“Well, I think you’re all talk, so let’s get out there and prove it.”

“You are so on.”

Pam giggled as she followed him out to the dance floor.

“Dwight -- I knew this was a bad idea, nobody want to do the conga with me. Gosh, all your ideas are so lame.” Michael made a face as he crossed his arms and stuck his tongue out.

Dwight was about to reply, when he glanced through the conference room window, where he could see Jim and Pam toasting with paper cups and eyeing Andy’s anger management books and grinned (mission accomplished)

End