Tory' POV

Tory had been working for Laura Roslin for about 3 months now and still, she couldn't seize her. Each time she felt she could anticipate her reactions, she failed. The woman was an enigma. She could show empathy, warmth and tenderness and, the next second, could throw someone out an airlock. She could get her anger in for things that seemed futile and offer forgiveness for the most importants ones. She had a big mouth and was not shy to express her opinions, to anyone. Maybe that's what made Tory believe in her: her strength, her convictions and that little something that made Laura Roslin so human, so close to the people. But what made her human, woman was what infuriated Tory the most. The little redhead was a flirt, a temptress, a seducer. She liked men and one in particular.

In her first week on the job, she saw how Adama looked at her boss, especially when she was not looking back. His gaze was tender, soft, caring. Even when they disagreed, even when they fought. He could stay minutes in the back of her office watching her fill report, rest or drink her tea. He would just look at her, not in a creepy way, in a loving way. She didn't think it was too much of a problem until she noticed her boss looking back too. She heard rumors about Roslin, about her affair with Adar. She figured a woman who would frak a married president would never be interested in the love of an old Admiral. She was wrong, again. Laura was as charmed as the old man. It took Tory a few more weeks to understand their dynamique, to understand what they saw in each other. Adama did not have the classic look or charm and she was quite sure the president had liked men more polished, more … less him. Maybe it was his so blue eyes, or his muscled arms. She had seen as the redhead would reach for his biceps and ran her hands up and down, she had seen her lick her lips in anticipation. She had even caught her once ogling his behind, which seemed very firm for a man his age. No, she had no doubt Roslin was attracted to him physically. And Laura was a beautiful woman for her age, no mystery on what attracted the old man there. They definitively had something, something more than physical attraction. They were both quiet people and Tory knew they enjoyed their private moments in his quarters to talk or just to read. She knew how Laura longed to be alone sometimes. But what held them together was their trust and the way they rely on each other, for all decisions. They talked, they argued, they found common ground. They were an item, a partnership.

Their growing attraction, in the wake of the election, was becoming a problem though. She remembered how Adama had shut the giggled off her boss. Gods, he had not even tried to be discreet. He had just pushed her into a vacant room and kissed her. And it had been one hell of a kiss! He had grabbed her by the neck and shoved his mouth into hers. It seemed a bit violent to her prudish eyes but in an instant, it just became heated and passionated. Laura gave as good as she got, she could hear her moan in his mouth, could see her hands grabbing his jacquet and bringing him closer. She even saw hints of their tongues as they changed angles to kiss more deeply. Tory didn't even bother to look away, she watched them and watched the clock. She gave them 5 minutes. Fortunately they untangled themself before she had to ask them. He had run his hands through her hair, straightening them as best as he could, caressed her cheek and gave her one last kiss, obviously pleased by himself, grinning like a boy.

After that Tory knew she couldn't let them alone. She felt like a chaperone for 2 teenagers. No more chat alone in his quarters, she would pop in every 20 to 30 minutes, just to make sure. No more long walk arm in arm, she made sure of that. But on the wake of the second debate, she couldn't hold them off anymore. She knew Roslin needed her friend, her confident and most of all, the only person able to calm her down. So she settled a meeting for the two leaders prior to the talk. She had thought they might chat, kiss maybe but she had not planned… THAT! With retrospect, she recognized she could have expect this kind of thing. She knew Laura and Bill talked on the phone every night, exchanging more than fleet status discussion. And she knew Roslin relished in body expression: dance, yoga, … She was a sensual woman but she did not think the Admiral would entertain that aspect of her personality. And Tory was the exact opposite of her boss: she didn't like people touching her, she didn't like to express herself like that, she was as rigid as a metal bar. So, when the Old Man offered for them to dance their worries away in his quarters, when he offered to live them to it, Tory could not accept the offer. She didn't know or want to dance. So he had to step up.

He put on some Aerilon music. It was exotic, cheerful, with a sensual beat. The two leaders started to sway gently to the music, hands in hands, face to face. They seemed a bit shy and Tory was thankful for that. Maybe she would not have to witness another kiss! She let them dance on the impromptu dancefloor and went to the head. Bad idea! When she came back, the heat had risen in the room. Legs intertwined, body melting together, they were moving in tempo.

They were in unison, like if they were one and only body. The old man was holding the Redhead flushed against him, one hand on her hip, the other one on her lower back, just above her buttocks. Grinding their hips in circles, drawing like an 8 figure in rythme with the chorus, their gaze locked, the two leaders were in their own little world. Tory, on the side, was quite shocked. She had never seen anyone dance like that. She was flabbergasted to see these two quite old persons expressed so much confidence, sensuality, sexuality just like that. For an instant, she wished she had it in her. Adama made her twirl with too much ease for someone his bulk. Gently, he pulled her back. He circled her abdomen with his arm and made her dance in front of him. The joy and playfulness on their features was obvious. They were enjoying themself for the first time in months. The redhead move her hands to the air, swaying her hips with the music. Tory was fascinated by the easiness of her motions, the way she sashayed, the way her arms looped over her head, the way her feet barely touched the floor. When the chorus came back, the Old Man pulled her back to him, molding his pelvis to the curve of her behind, one hand holding her belly, one caressing her long arms. The song was ending. Adama made her spun one last time, having her facing him. Tory saw her boss leg fly to the sky, the man hand grabbing hight on her thigh while her long red hair grazed the floor in a backbend the Brunette though only possible in movies. The dancers were no dancing anymore and getting back in a very close face to face, their eyes locked, smiling. The Aide had to cough to catch their attention and prevent another kiss. And she thought it was bad. She had though they should not allow themselves to such frivolity, that they were playing with fire. But they were in his quarters, hatch locked. Little she did she knew 2 weeks later, she would think of this dance as a chaste one!