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Dancing

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The idea of loud music, alcoholic beverages and the more outlandish form of entertainment usually filled Narvin with abhorrence, but tonight, as he was representing his people, he felt he should make an appearance at least.

The idea that the girl he had bought as his ‘entertainment’ would be sent to dance for him didn’t occur to him until he saw the savage on the stage before him, lighting a torch.
She looked past the other delegates, straight at him and smirked at what must have been an expression of pure horror on his face.

There was no music, only Leela bending with the flame she held, her movements becoming faster and faster until the was moving in time with the yells and whoops of the others watching her performance.

It was only once his hand was halfway to his neck to loosen his collar that he realised what he was doing, and scratched an imaginary itch behind his ear instead. The way the savage’s body bent and swayed… Gallifrey was not exactly known for its exotic nightlife, and Narvin had been a man who stuck strictly to the mission at hand whenever on field assignment in his time as an Agent in the CIA.

As Leela bought the flaming torch closer to her body, Narvin caught the gleam of her sweat covering the expanse of her stomach, exposed by the slip of an outfit she usually wore, even on Gallifrey. It had never evoked such… an interest in him before, but he found his gaze lingering on her tanned skin, a rarity on a planet whose people never ventured outside the city walls.
He swallowed heavily against the sudden dryness in his throat and picked up his drink for something to do. It was the brute from Nekkistan that snapped him out of his reverie, salivating over the savage.

A stab of irrational anger flooded through Narvin as the oversized slug related his disgusting fantasies to the CIA Coordinator and he quelled it as soon as it arose. Getting angry at a fellow delegate was not on his agenda for this evening. And over Andred’s savage? Clearly he’d had too much to drink already; his judgement was completely clouded.

Realising he hadn’t heard a single word the delegate from Unvoss sitting opposite him had said in the past five minutes, he decided enough was enough and suggested they move.

Even after the incident on the summit planetoid is concluded, and a chastened, mind-wiped Narvin returns to his work on Gallifrey, he finds his sleep plagued with half-realised images of his President’s bodyguard dancing with fire and he won’t look her in the eye for weeks.