BEST NON-VOYAGER STORY - ROUND IX (tie)
Title: Wo! Manhunt!
Author: Lyrastar ( Lyrastarwatcher@yahoo.com )
Series: TOS/TNG/Dash of DS9
Codes: Number One/Chapel/Lwaxana Troi/Computer voice
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters and all things Trek are the property of Paramount/Viacom. No money is being made from this piece. I needed the fine tools for my work. They'd have been returned in the morning.
Summary: Some Star Trek women encounter familiar faces.
Archiving: FFF, ASC*, BLTS--anyone else, please ask.
Feedback: Please let me know what you think -- Lyrastarwatcher@yahoo.com
Note: Part of the Femme Fuh-Q Fest - http://www.oocities.org/femme_fuhq_fest/
by Lyrastar
"Captain's log: Stardate 772.6. Enterprise ship and crew alike have been relatively distressed since our engagement with the Tellaraites. We are putting in to Starbase 18 for repairs to the ship and, hopefully, to morale as well. The diplomats have agreed to a meeting on Babel to try and reach a peaceful understanding. We all remain optimistic that some good will come from all this.
"I will be staying onboard, along with the senior engineering and operations staff, to effect repairs. The rest of the crew should be able to avail themselves of the exceptional facilities on base. It is my plan that when we sail again, it will be refreshed and renewed."
Satisfied, Pike punched the log recorder off. "So how about you, Number One? Big plans for a little R&R?"
"Unlikely," his seconded responded crisply. She continued plugging coordinates into the helm apparently oblivious to the smirk traveling around the bridge behind her. "I had planned to remain onboard and assist with the supervision of repairs."
"Thoughtful," he said with a twinkle, "but I think that that falls well within my purview as captain. And a change might do you good."
"Captain?" She swiveled to study her commanding officer, unsure of how to take that.
"Yes, really," he continued. "Do you know how long it has been since your last leave."
Back on more solid ground, she answered, "Yes, sir. Two years, eight months, thirteen days. Why do you ask?"
The corners of his mouth twitched threatening to split wide apart at any moment. "Well, a little fresh air can do wonders to restore the soul, don't you think?"
"I have no opinion on that, sir," she said, turning back around to her station. "In any case, Starbase 18 is an enclosed biosphere with air blended to the same specifications as that of the Enterprise. It is no fresher."
Patience never having been his long suit, Pike finally lost it. "Fine, have it your way, Number One! This is now a direct order. You will beam down within 24 hours of our arrival and you will not return to the ship in less than one standard week!"
"Captain!" If nothing else, he had finally succeeded in eliciting surprise from his usually unflappable second.
He lightened his tone. "Oh, don't take it so hard, Number One. Even Mr. Spock is anticipating our stay. Starbase 18 is one of the foremost academic centers in the Federation. There are scores of conferences and scientific papers in progress. You can even sit in on some of the Academy continuing education classes. I'm sure you'll find something there to tickle your fancy."
*****
Christine snapped her head back as it sagged for the second time. The session had started off okay, but she was fading fast. Between the late night cramming and her overburdened class schedule, there hadn't been enough time left for sleep. The soft Troyan voice droning on about esoteric diseases wasn't helping.
Christine was accustomed to making things work. When she decided to get into bioresearch she had promptly picked up Roger Corby, her immunology professor and arguably one of the top contemporary minds in medical research. Roger was a sweet, guileless little man, brilliant in humanoid physiology, but not so adept at human relations. If he ever thought to wonder why a young, leggy blonde would suddenly become so completely enthralled with him, it never came it up for discussion.
They had done well together. In a short period of time Christine had established herself as an exacting scientist. She had developed a respectable reputation and was heavily enmeshed in trials of her own. Nonetheless, as Roger's name grew she made up her mind to marry him. Marriage to a man of such renown would surely get Nurse Chapel a role in any in or all of his future projects.
When Roger announced his extended expedition to Exo-III she cheerfully deferred the wedding until after his return. It should have been the best of both worlds. At first she was delighted at her recovered freedom, but as the weeks and months went by she found that she actually missed the odd little man. No one was more surprised than she when one lonely night she realized she had actually gone and fallen in love with him.
When the second scout party had reported finding no trace of him she made her choice. Without regret, she resigned from her project and set out to find him somehow. Her friends had laughed. Some of them had suggested he had intentionally gone missing, that for some unknowable reason he didn't want to be found. She never could, never would believe that. After all, they were to have been married!
The shortest distance between two interplanetary points had always been Starfleet. The catch was how to get in. A mini-dress and a personal visit to Jean, the executive in charge of Officer Candidate Admissions solved that problem. Her time with Jean had been fun and refreshingly liberating. She had almost regretted it when her weeks at Officers' Basic Training came to a close. But as an added bonus, the relationship practically assured her a plum assignment.
The plum turned out to be Starbase 18, and what a spectacular plum it was. Cutting edge medical facilities, top-notch staff, a diverse patient population with plenty of alien exposure, and lots of continuing medical education. Maybe too much.
Due to the conditions, deep space medical personal had to be chosen for well-rounded but specialized knowledge and abilities. The basic nursing curriculum that she had completed was woefully deficient for multi-species care in an isolated environment. The sheer volume of xenobiology needed to treat just the races that comprised Starfleet personnel was staggering. Some days it seemed frankly impossible within a lifetime, much less a few months. She didn't mind hard work, but this pedantry was ridiculous. How much of this would she really need? How much would she ever use?
Take this seminar, Long-term Effects of Extra-terrestrial Factors on the Humanoid Hematopoietic systems. It had sounded practical, but what was it was he covering now? Some sort of induced polycythemia with an incidence of only 27 cases reported to date. Great. There must be something more valuable she could do with her time.
Picking up her padd, she wriggled past the row of chair backs. Straightening prematurely, her nipples brushed the blue-uniformed shoulder on the end of the row. She opened her mouth to apologize, then realized with some surprise that there was no point. He was a Vulcan and they considered pleasantries illogical. Curious, she turned to look more closely. Definitely Vulcan. No mistaking that icy cold presence. But wearing officers' stripes and a starship insignia--the Enterprise if she remembered correctly.
Odd. It was unusual enough for Vulcans to choose to serve on any integrated ship, much less one that would be in outer space for extended periods. Moreover, rumor had it that Vulcans universally declined posting on any vessel with more than basic defense capability. If this one was an officer on a starship, then there really were more things in heaven and space, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. She had even more work ahead of her.
She walked quickly down the aisle and keyed up the seminar list on her padd. Perusing the titles she decided that Rigellian Transplants and Tissue Regeneration would have wait. Instead she punched up the directions to BR#2163--Pearls for Managing a Multi-Species Medical Facility.
****
Aboard the research vessel Proteus, yet another trying meeting was coming to a close.
"But why can't I go?" the woman whined petulantly. "I am a full ambassador, daughter of the Fifth House, holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx and heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed! If anyone has a right to observe the first contact between Betazed and the Federation, it is me! Certainly more so then any of you people. "
"Madam Ambassador, " the Commodore sighed, "for the last time I remind you that is precisely why you cannot go. Temporal Investigations was most emphatic on this point. If you go, what we are observing won't be a first contact, will it?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake! I know enough to be discrete."
Thanks to hours of diplomatic corps training, the commodore responded without even a hint of laughter.
"Certainly, Madam. But as an officer and a gentleman I must frankly inform you, it would be quite impossible for you walk among us unnoticed even for a moment."
The ambassador regarded him with some irritation. "Neat. That may be exactly what you were thinking, but it certainly wasn't the way you were thinking it. Nonetheless," her voice brightening, "I am going. After all, nothing is as safe as hiding in plain sight. Mr. Homm, attend me!" With that, she swept out the room.
******
Five minutes late, Christine slid into a vacant seat and smoothed her skirt over her lap. The straight-backed woman beside her spared her the briefest of disapproving looks before crossing her legs in the other direction and resuming her intent note taking. Stuck up bitch, Christine thought idly, but not a bad body. Maybe a bit wide in the hips, but definitely doable.
Pulling lecture notes up on her padd, Christine cast a sidelong glance at her seatmate. Command gold, officers' stripes, and yes, the Enterprise insignia again. Christine's estimation of the woman rose significantly. That was as high as a woman could go in space command.
Curious now, she studied the woman more openly. What would it be like to be a female officer on the flagship of the Federation? To never be able to risk seeming weak or passable? What would it be like to always be the token female? Or maybe the test case for women in command, never allowed a mistake? Or maybe to always be thought of as the captain's woman. No, re-appraising the tight body packed into the uniform slacks, Christine figured that one wasn't likely to be much of an issue.
The woman looked up and regarded Christine with almost scientific interest. Embarrassed at being caught, Christine busied herself tucking back an errant blonde strand. What were they saying now? Something about polymatrix biobed calibration?
Strangely drawn, Christine risked another glance. She wondered, was this happened to women after years of Starfleet discipline? Was this to be her destiny? She could almost see a long forgotten part of herself in this stranger. 'Leigh M.' was all she could read of the nameplate on the padd. A sleeve covered the rest. The stranger picked that moment to look up. She gave Christine an unfathomable look. Christine blushed deeply and turned away with resolve.
Still she found her thoughts wandering. If she could get an inside track on a starship placement, say by making friends--making good friends--with a senior officer things would move a lot faster. It wouldn't really be cheating on Roger; after all, it was all just a path back to him. No point in considering the Vulcan; she would have more luck sprouting wings and learning to breathe vacuum. On the other hand, this woman looked like she could use some pretty badly. If she could just get close enough to get a recommendation, or at least get noticed out of a stack of applications, it was a small price to pay. Not that a little romp would be a hardship. When you looked past the frumpy get-up, this woman had quite the amazing body, if she must say so herself.
And had worked with Jean. They had both had fun. They both had gotten what they wanted. No harm, no foul.
Christine jumped as people began to stir around her. Picking up her padd to leave, the woman gave her a last look.
"You keep staring at me. Do I know you?"
Christine summoned her widest smile. "I'm not sure," she forced the smile even wider. "Would you like to?"
*****
Christine activated the door to her starbase efficiency unit. "Lights on," she said. Nothing happened. "I'm sorry," she offered crossing to the manual panel. "The voice interface has been out for days. They're doing some kind of overhaul on the residential computer system."
"No problem. I like it dark." A hand clamped down on her wrist. She turned and found herself firmly pinned against the wall. The door slid closed. They stood knee to knee, breast to breast, breathing heavily in the dark. A hand found her thigh and began working its way up, not exactly gently.
More of a chest woman herself, Christine pushed up the soft chemise. She bowed her head and under the veil of darkness and forced the warm breasts up to meet her lips. Hungrily, she worked between them licking, nuzzling, sucking.
The sexual exploration in the absolute blackness of the sealed room was like nothing she had ever experienced before. As much as she knew her eyes would never adapt, she kept expecting to see something, a movement, a shape, a shadow. The more she strained her useless eyes the more heightened her other senses became. The intense awareness of the heat, the touch, the sounds, the heady female musk nearly overpowered her. She could never get enough.
Unexpectedly a smooth fingernail brushed the sensitive arc of skin between leg and thigh. Christine started at the intimacy. Her head jerked back.
The blond coiffure banged heavily against the control panel triggering the lights. They blinked at each other taking in mussed makeup, rumpled clothes, disheveled hair. With the harsh light of simulated day suddenly everything seemed more real, more imminent. Never breaking eye contact, the stranger's hands continued their mission under Christine's skirt.
"You could slow down a little!" Christine demurred.
The hands stopped. "Why?"
"Well, number one, I don't even know your name."
The stranger gave her a queer half-smile. "Leigh," she said.
"Leigh?" Christine mispronounced the name on the padd, wondering all the while what was so damned funny.
"Lee," Leigh corrected.
"OK, Leigh," Christine smiled, recovering her composure. "Then...don't you think things might go more smoothly if we got out of these clothes?"
"Go ahead," was the only reply as Leigh flopped back on the bed to watch.
Christine wriggled out of the mini-dress and tried to remember how Roger used to like her to do this. She turned around to unclip her brassiere. About to toss it onto the bed, she prudently reconsidered; those duraplast cups could really hurt someone. She placed it carefully on the dresser, tips up, and turned back around to step out of her panties. With satisfaction she noted Leigh had her hand under her clothing, hips rocking in slow rhythm with her fingers.
Christine put one foot up on the bed allowing for a nice view of her crotch from below. She bent to remove the knee-high boot.
"Don't," came the husky order. "Leave them on and come up here." It didn't sound like a topic for discussion.
Christine lay full length against the rough uniform fabric, squirming to get comfortable. Leigh grabbed her head and pulled her firmly into a hard kiss. Only when she felt Christine kiss back with alacrity did she release her hold. She dragged her hands down to bare breasts and began to knead mercilessly. A moan escaped from one of them. Sparing one hand she moved to the vulva and inserted a single finger. Christine gasped, but made no move to draw away. Instead her thighs inched further apart.
Leigh noticed the motion and perversely withdrew the finger. Christine broke the kiss, groaning with disappointment. She lay on her back hungry, panting, lips parted. Leigh raised the slippery finger to her own face, drew it luxuriantly under her nose and inhaled deeply, sensually. Smiling she dipped the finger into her own mouth and slowly licked it clean.
Leigh bent her head and wrapped her mouth around one large nipple. On fire now, Christine fumbled at the waistband of the trousers. Reaching through the open fastenings she murmured in delight. Where panties should be she hit only rough, sticky curls. Gently she massaged the swollen lips back and forth taking satisfaction in the elicited response. Emboldened, she reached back to dip between the slippery lips.
"Cripes!" Christine was thrown off unceremoniously. Leigh sat up, eyes flashing, finger jabbing the air. "Nobody fucks me, NOBODY! Got it?"
"Sure," Christine agreed, utterly taken aback. "Whatever you say."
"That's more like it." Her tone eased. Laying back she motioned, "Now come back here. No, not like that, turn around. Hang it over my face, babydoll."
Christine crawled back to comply. She backed up to straddle Leigh's face. 'This is all for you, Roger,' she thought as she propped up gamely on hands and knees.
Slowly she lowered her crotch. A hard tongue jutted out eagerly to meet her. She felt a delicious pull at her clit. Her elbows quivered threatening to give way. The tongue began to stroke and circle pulling her helplessly down into ever intensifying spirals of pleasure. Opening her eyes one last time she caught a close up view of the sharp teal fingernails aimed at her slit. 'Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all,' was her last voluntary thought before two fingers dove into her with all their might.
*******
Several orgasms later Christine twisted around and collapsed resting her cheek on sweat-soaked velour. She looked up shyly. "It was really exciting when you called my name. I didn't even think you knew it."
"Your name?" Leigh looked down at her, puzzled.
"Yes." Christine giggled happily. "Don't you remember? You called 'Chris' when you...."
"Oh, that." She rolled over on her side. "Have you got a salt stick?"
"No. They're really not good for you." Christine looked at the backside of the sleek dark hair. "It wasn't me you were calling was it?"
No answer.
"Well, who was it?"
"If you must know, my captain, Christopher Pike." She rolled back over to enjoy the shocked gape.
"So, you and your captain...?"
"No. He would never consider it. For many reasons. But I have my fantasies."
"You have fantasies about your commanding officer? A man?" Christine asked incredulously.
Leigh regarded her with amusement. "Yes, rather commonplace, isn't it. Of course in my fantasies, I have the dick."
With that, she rolled over and went to sleep.
*****
Lwaxana paced the observation deck restlessly. She had been camped out in front of the immigration hangar bay window for three hours already. According to history the Betazoid scout ship should arrive sometime today, but waiting had never been her forte. To make matters worse, time travel had unusual effects on the rhythms of middle aged Betazoid women. Well, at least on one middle aged Betazoid woman. As the sexual urges doubled, tripled and quadrupled, she found herself contemplating the many possibilities around her. Maybe waiting wouldn't be so bad after all.
Humans she could have anywhere, any time. This was an opportunity for some serious adventure. An Andorian? No, blue never was her color. A Denebian? No, much too messy. An Aurelian? She had always wondered how a cloaca worked, but the talons, that beak--maybe not this time.
Wistfully she watched the graceful wings cross the room and slip through the door. Just as the door slid shut she caught a fleeting glimpse of a profile in the corridor. Tall, dark, slender and austere with a sharply pointed ear: a Vulcan! Perfect! Physically compatible for hours of mind-blowing sex, mentally exotic, and best of all, a challenge worthy of Lwaxana Troi. Pulling her gown a little further off of her breasts, she dashed out into the hallway after him.
Although he was out of sight, at this short distance the well-ordered thought patterns would be fairly easy to isolate and follow. With impeccable timing, she turned the corner just as a lecture emptied out. The corridor was flooded with Vulcan Science Academy exchange students and all of the blindingly dull logic of their thoughts. But one was different--a subdued logical facade with a rutting targ barely restrained just below the surface. At the far end of the hallway she spotted him, almost a full head above the crowd of youngsters. Just the gold rim of his collar was visible below the sexy long hair. The turbo lift door slid open and the crowd closed in. He was lost in the basewide maze of turboshafts.
*******
Christine woke up alone. No Leigh, no note, no invitation to a starship. Rats! Well, if she was going to find Roger halfway across the galaxy, certainly she best be able to find one woman in an enclosed biosphere. Sparing enough time for a quick rinse she hastily re-erected her hair, rummaged for her tightest dress and headed out into the corridor, palming the wall panel as she left.
Now, where would one of the Federation's finest go on leave? Drinking? Hardly. Lounging poolside? A hilarious image, but not likely considering her disinclination to remove her uniform. No, the best bet would be Information Central. Confident, she reversed direction sharply, almost colliding with the couple behind her, and headed to the enormous base library.
********
Lwaxana stalked the library aisles. What more likely place to find a Vulcan than within this monument to pedagogy. She sensed many precise Vulcan thought patterns scattered around her, but her quarry was different somehow--very different. He was in the building somewhere, she was sure of it. Starting in the most prosaic section she could think of, Astrophysics, she began to systematically survey the occupants.
It was in Engineering--Locomotion that she felt his mental projections intensify. Not only nearer, but more exciting. He was interacting with a woman, a very emotional woman. He wanted sex, but not what the woman was offering. Well, hang on honey! Lwaxana Troi was on the way with the answer to all his problems! But where was he? She double-checked all the computer stations; he wasn't there. Then she noted the side doors. The signs indicated they led to teaching samples of various engine designs.
Starting in Antimatter Pods she began to search. She ran her hand casually over a reactor chamber as she passed wondering if they were material or holographic. She couldn't tell. Was Federation holotechnology even up to that in this era? The components seemed real enough, but with holosims, who knew for sure? She had been fooled before.
Only a handful of people were scattered among the models. Most were completely engrossed in dissecting the engines. Eliminating rooms went rapidly. When she entered Warp Engines she knew she had him. The woman was still with him. She froze and tried to decide what to do next.
Quietly she crept up behind the closest model and peeked around the corner. There were at least 40 full-scale engines in this room alone. Wishing she had picked a gown of quieter fabric, she gathered the folds around her as best she could and tiptoed up to the next module.
Within a few minutes she heard voices, one cool, one higher pitched and agitated. She peered cautiously around the corner trying to locate them.
"Leigh, please, just think about it. This could work for both of us."
"Be rational. This was a shore leave diversion only. Sex without strings. We have nothing in common and I have work to do."
"Oh, but Leigh, that's where you are wrong! Deep down you and I are a lot alike; I can feel it. And I have my work too. Why don't you just take me up to the Enterprise, let me meet Dr. Boyce and Captain Pike....
"No."
"Why not? What are you afraid of?" she added, slyly.
"I am the first officer of the Enterprise. I am not afraid of anyone or anything. Your request is simply illogical. If you are best qualified for the position you will be selected through the proper channels. Or do you make a habit of seducing those in charge to attain your goals?"
"Now that's unfair! I was in love with Jean! If you think--"
"Spare me the theatrics. I've heard better."
"Leigh, please if you want me to be discrete I can do that too. I'll do anything. I'll change my hair, my name, anything. No one even has to know it was me before."
"This discussion is pointless. Unless you have developed a burning interest in current warp drive design, I suggest you absent yourself. My attention is otherwise occupied."
There were sounds of movement, shuffling, sniffling. Lwaxana ducked back behind the engine model. Even footsteps approached and retreated again. After a moment Lwaxana followed.
Crossing the room she found him alone bending over a compact model. The sign indicated it was a warp shuttle engine in contemporary service. She took in the tight ass, the broad shoulders, the shiny hair. Sex without strings sounded just right.
At the last moment she pulled her bodice down a little further off her breasts. "Hi, Lee," she said in her best contralto.
Her conquest straightened, turned.
Lwaxana did a double take. "Why...you aren't a Vulcan! You aren't even male!" She added uncertainly "Are you?"
Leigh cocked one eyebrow. "Madam, I must regretfully inform you that you are correct on both counts."
Flustered, Lwaxana made an effort to collect herself. "I seem to have made a mistake. I am so sorry. I--"
Leigh interrupted, looking directly at the generous bosom. "On the contrary madam, I believe it is I who am sorry." With a wink, she turned back around to the engine. With a graceful twist she pulled herself down and under the module and engaged herself in tinkering with the underside.
Stunned, Lwaxana headed back towards the exit, not quite sure how she could have had erred so badly. The Phase did have unpredictable effects on telepathy--that must have something to do with it. But there was something more than that, something else behind the strange, pale eyes. If she could only place it.
Ten paces away she stopped, turned. Leigh was on her back, head and shoulders obscured by the engine block. Lwaxana waited five seconds, 10. Leigh never emerged. Her face shifting imperceptibly, Lwaxana turned and headed back towards the exit.
Puzzled Lwaxana wandered slowly past the large central warp complex. Curious, she directed her attentions towards it. The woman was still there. She was apparently human by psionic pattern, but like no other human Lwaxana had encountered before. The mental patterns were eerily familiar. If she didn't know better, it could have been a Betazoid. More curious now, she peeked around the corner.
On the floor beneath the warp drive interface console she found her, makeup smeared, skirt pushed up around her waist. Quite a sight.
"Little one, what's wrong?" she asked with genuine concern. The psionic waves from this woman were uncommonly fierce. It was as if there was some sort of empathic harmonic convergence between them doubling and redoubling the intensity. Lwaxana crouched beside her, breasts spilling over her bodice. She touched a hand.
Christine looked up puffy eyed and bleary. "Why did you call me that?"
"I'm not sure," Lwanaxa replied honestly. "You remind me of someone, I suppose. Maybe even a younger version of myself."
Christine stared at her quizzically from under blotchy lids. "Yes." Her gaze sharpened. "My name is Christine Chapel. Do you have relatives in North America?"
"No," Lwaxana answered bemused. "Although my husband was born there."
"No," Christine repeated, transfixed by the perfect jet black eyes, "I don't suppose you could. And yet--" Her voice trailed off.
They regarded each other for a long moment. Lwaxana extended a hand. "So, can I help?"
Christine slumped back against the bulkhead. "No. I just need to think for a while."
Lwaxana cocked her head. "So you're going to just sit there?"
"Yes," Christine bristled. "Is that a problem for you?" She made a token effort to cover the larger part of her crotch with the grossly inadequate skirt.
Lwaxana pretended to consider the question. "No," she said, sliding down underneath the console to sit beside her. "Just asking. After all, there would be no point in me sitting down if you were just going to up and leave. Hm?"
"Why are you being so nice to me?" Christine asked tiredly.
"Well, for starters, I'm a nice person," Lwaxana bantered, sliding a little closer. "And at the moment, there doesn't seem to be any one around to be nice to. And you seem like you could use a friend."
"Where *are* you from?" Christine asked. "I know something about visual systems, but I have never seen eyes like yours before."
Lwaxana smiled. When in doubt, tell as much of the truth as you can get away with. "I'm not really from around here. I've been stuck in immigration all morning and have nothing but Starfleet briefings to look forward to for the rest of the day. I would like to get a little excitement in between."
Christine's interest grew. "You have Starfleet contacts?"
"Yes, I guess you could put it that way."
"And a long range ship?"
"Well, it's not actually mine, but it gets me where I want to go."
Christine smiled, trying for coy. Maybe it was the eye makeup smeared across her cheeks. Maybe it was the impressive hickey deepening on her left neck. In any event, she didn't quite pull it off.
"Do you think, maybe, you could take me?"
Lwaxana beamed in triumph. "Oh, I'd be very happy to do that, Miss Chapel."
Lwaxana leaned in and gently kissed her full on the lips. The kiss became full, greedy; then an embrace. Then desperate caresses.
"Stop," Christine choked suddenly. "We can't do this here"
Lwaxana glanced around casually. "I don't see anything stopping us."
"It is a library, you know. We can't just have sex right here in the open."
Lwaxana regarded the tiny recess. "Whatever you want to call this, it is hardly 'open'. Little One, you have to learn to live a little." Calmly she raised her skirt and expertly straddled Christine's lap scooting them both further back into the niche.
Lwaxana's undignified, if efficient, position did have the advantage of positioning her bosom right in front of Christine's face. With her chin Christine pushed away the last folds which pretended to cover the generous breasts. Greedily, she cupped one breast in each hand and ground her face firmly between them.
Jesus, if Roger was so damned brilliant, why couldn't he grow himself a pair of these?
The boob job was nice, but The Phase wouldn't be sated for long. Lwaxana began rocking her mons between Christine's pelvis and her stomach. Still it wasn't enough. She was so wet she could feel the juices seeping down her inner thigh. As the pressure built she reached down and began fingering herself. In moments she was frantic, desperate for release.
"Dammit, Christine! Am I going to have to fuck myself here?" she demanded.
Christine left off the task at hand and slid down to where she was needed most. She licked up the full length of the musky cunt and circled the distended clit with her tongue. She felt her partner tense, spasm. With alacrity she wrapped her lips around the bulging clit and sucked with all her might. Her partner bucked and began to make a hideous sound in the back of her throat. In alarm, Christine reached up and put one hand over her mouth, muffling her cries, as she pulled Lwaxana to a mind-boggling orgasm.
The reprieve didn't last long. "OK, Little One, now you are going to fuck me."
Christine moved to oblige inserting two fingers, three, four. "Harder, harder, HARDER!" Lwaxana screamed in her ear. In less than a minute she was coming again.
Barely catching her breath, Lwaxana got on hands and knees. "Now take me from behind. Use your whole hand."
Christine looked at her in amazement. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," Lwaxana replied irritably. "What do you think? That I've never done this before?"
Considering their surroundings, Christine decided not to take that question too literally. Resigned, she shook herself and began to fist the stranger, gently at first, finally using all the strength she could summon.
Lwaxana came with a strangled cry, banging her head on the underside of the console. Seeing stars, she rolled away. Recovering rapidly she began, "Now..."
"Jeepers," Christine said. "Haven't you had enough?"
"What? Aren't human females multi-orgasmic?"
"Well, at this rate you will never find out, will you?" Christine responded testily.
"Oh, is that it? Well, come here, Little One. Let me show you what people from my planet can do."
Opening her telepathic channels fully, she licked and stroked Christine to the pinnacle of all her sexual dreams.
When Christine awakened she was again alone with herself. Disoriented, she struggled to put together the day's events. The absurdity of her recollections gave her pause. Was it all some horrible sleep deprived Freudian hallucination?
Then, smoothing her skirt to rise, she found them. Nestled in with her native blonde pubic fuzz they caught her eye immediately. She plucked them out. Two long, coarse hairs--one midnight black, one flaming red.
********
Back on the Proteus the committee was reseated.
"So, where are we off to next?" she asked, rearranging her cleavage.
"'We', madam?" The committee members shot alarmed looks at each other. If they also were sharing any thoughts among themselves, Lwaxana for once exercised the restraint not to comment.
"Yes, 'we'."
"The orb team is returning to Betazed. They are scheduled to transport back 624 years to study the encephalitis pandemic that killed most of population on the northern continent."
"Oh, good! I just had all my shots updated. When do we arrive?"
"Madam ambassador, even with modern immunizations it is far too dangerous...."
"I am the daughter of the Fifth House, holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed and if anyone is going back to see the plague which felled the Second House, it will be me!" she said all in one breath.
Not for the first time, the commodore punched up the roster for the orb team and began the authorization process to add one more time traveler.
*****
Dejected, Christine wandered back into her efficiency and slumped into a chair.
"Computer, lights on," she said, mentally kicking herself even as the words passed her lips.
Much to her surprise, the lights came on obediently. "Oh, good, you're back." She tried to organize her thoughts. "Computer--"
"Working, dear."
"I want a great, big banana split."
"Now, dear, you are getting a bit thick in the hips. Wouldn't you rather have a nice, hot, steamy bubble bath?" If she hadn't known better she would have sworn she heard a giggle.
Flustered, Christine looked down at her hips, which she still thought looked damn good, in or out of a miniskirt. "Well, now I--" She did a double take.
"Computer, have you changed your voice?"
"Why this little ol' thing I just threw on? Do you like it?" A definite giggle.
"Well, I.... Yes. It's beautiful. Haunting. Strangely familiar."
"Oh, I am so glad. I got it just for you, dear."
"Computer?"
"Working, dear."
"I don't really want to be alone tonight. Could you, maybe, stay and, you know, just...talk for a while?"
*******
Epilogue
"Stardate 1183: First Officer Leigh Chude recording. We are conducting a geological survey of the new Federation member, Betazed. The most interesting discovery so far is the remains of a mining cavern deep under the old northern capital city. The cavern shows evidence of triollic wave exposure about 600 years ago. This finding cannot be explained by anything in Betazed recorded history.
She clicked the log recorder off and triggered the sensory array. The science team was examining the only artifact found so far, a stylized serpent carved from alien materials. Stepping away from the team she honed in on another unusual reading--a complex polymer similar to those of contemporary Betazoid manufacture, but of previously unknown structure. Following the trace she stooped to pick up the source. It was a fiery red wig of utterly ridiculous design.
"Lieutenant," she asked, fingering it thoughtfully, "what do you make of this?"
~fin