Elim Garak broke from his thoughts and looked up, frowning.

"E-excuse me? Ah, Commander! What a lovely surprise. Yes, please, join me," he offered polited, waving at the empty opposite chair. Enhance my evening ... such an oddity that the good Doctor never quite saw what was under that meaning.

Commander Jadzia Dax smiled lightly and slid into her chair, setting her mug of tea in front of her. "So Mr. Garak. Enjoying a solitary lunch? I thought Julian was in the habit of joining you at this hour."

You never waste time, do you Commander? Garak thought wryly. Excellent, I always thought you were sharper than some of the usual Starfleet monkeys. "Why Commander, I didn't know you were in the habit of noticing these sort of trivial things," Garak countered easily, hiding his smirk behind the rim of his glass.

Jadzia spared a thin smile. "I don't. But then again, the sight of you and Julian together isn't one that's easily dismissed."

"Nor that of you and Lieutenant Worf ..." he smiled prettily, "I'm sure."

Her smile widened and she tilted her head. "Touché, Mr. Garak."

"Please," he held up his palm, "It is only Garak."

"On that, I'm not so sure," she replied enigmatically, sipping her tea. She wrapped her hands around the warmth and gazed into it thoughtfully. "Regardless, I had been meaning to ask you ... is everything all right with Julian?"

The light in Garak's icy depths died instantly. He averted his eyes and resumed his meal. "You'll have to ask him yourself Commander."

"I would," Dax said, lifting her scrutiny to include the shifting expressions on the tailor's face. "But since we came back from Risa he won't talk to anyone. He just ... locked himself inside his quarters and refuse to see anyone. And when he goes to work, it's all his nurses can do to get a good morning out of him."

Garak dropped his spoon loudly over his plate and took a quick swig of rokassa juice. "Sounds to me you've already done your homework Commander. I see no reason in pursuing something that clearly does not demand any further pursuit." He looked up. "I assure you; this melodramatic whim of the good Doctor's will not last long." He impaled a piece of root with spite. "His ego will be plenty restored when the next Dabo girl comes waltzing into his life and he will be the grinning, boyish Julian you've always known him to be." He closed his teeth over the morself and chewed angrily.

Dax widened her cerulean eyes just a bit at the blatant traces of bitterness in the Cardassian's voice. It was unlike Garak to let his guard down, and certainly no facade was tainting his behavior right now. Yet she would not let this dissolve her own guard. She knew how Cardassians played, and she was adamant to retain some measure of upper hand with her sporadic opponant. She smiled, just faintly, and as she climbed to her feet whispered, "If it is your intent to keep your feelings a secret, Mr. Garak, I suggest masking them more properly." At his bewildered look, her smile turned coquettish. "I have a few meditation techniques that might help you with that," she taunted.

Garak stared at her retreating back with awe. If he had wanted pity, he certainly hadn't gotten any. If he wanted compassion or help, the endeavor to gain them had been fruitless. Interesting ... he mused. He brushed a napkin over his lips and, absently, left his barely touched meal on the table as he left the replimat.

Dax peeked out of the refresher at the door chime and called, "It's open!" Half-expecting to greet Worf, she returned to her toilette, brushing her long mane of hair as she smiled back at her reflection. "What can I do for you?" The voice which answered her was not the deep baritone she anticipated. Rather it was the musical tone she'd heard just moments before.

"Why, Commander, have you forgotten your generous offer so quickly? Tsk tsk, unbecoming of an officer, such short memory."

Dax stepped out of the fresher and frowned at her visitor. "Garak." Her brow crumpled. "What are you doing here?"

Garak paced languidly her quarters, taking in her decor. He looked like the vampire who'd been invited into his prey's house. "Why Commander, is that a note of nervousness I detect? I do hope I haven't interrupted anything ... important. Like, perhaps, some Klingon calistenics?"

Dax smiled evenly. "Oh why do you ask? Perhaps you'd like to join? I heard you and Worf had a pretty struggle in the gamma quadrant. Did he ... fire your fancy Mr. Garak?"

This time, Garak would not back down so easily. "Oh now, why would I be interested in a man whose intellect I can match easily with that of a spoon?"

"Like the one on your forehead?" she teased, remembering Benjamin's confidence.

"Oh very low Commander," Garak commented with a grin. "I'd think you could come up with something far more stinging. But this idle conversation is curbing from the real reason why I've come."

Pinning her hair up in its usual style, Dax appeared nonchalant. "Which is?"

Garak took a step forward, his eyes blazing. "Why those meditation techniques you offered to teach me. I'd endeavor to learn them well, since my ... behavior is so transparant to those as observant as you, Commander."

"Are you sure?" she asked with a coquettish smile, turning her back to him. "Some of these leave a lot to be desired."

"Oh teach me the worst," he purred. His arousal was unmistakable, and he had an idea that he would not be rejected ... not this time. His memory of Julian's rejection was still vivid in his mind. He remembered being snubbed off for Leeta, and the pain it had caused him was still intense. He only hoped Julian felt the same way now that Leeta had played him the same way. Some other, more obscure part of him rejoiced bitterly that he'd get to have Dax; the only Julian had not been able to affect with charm or wit. For this he respected the Trill, because for all the protests, for all the hurt and pain, Garak was still left longing for Julian. Of course, he had no idea whether Commander Dax was truly intent on going that far with him. For all he knew, the Trill would indeed teach him a few meditation techniques and nothing more. Still, a chance to talk with the elegant Tril offered more hope than he'd ever expect with Julian nowadays. Garak was simply craving intelligent conversation.

Dax sighed. "All right. Strip."

Garak was torn from his musing and looked up in startled surprise. "Excuse me?"

Dax huffed and went to the door, inputing a security lock on it. "Oh Garak," she muttered, "Please, don't take me for a fool. If you think I'll believe that you came all the way here to learn a few crude meditation techniques -- techniques you no doubt have learned already in the Order -- then you must think I'm not very bright." She turned and her eyes blazed blue fire. "I'm not Julian."

Garak growled at the indirect insult and lashed forward, grasping her wrist tightly. "No, you're not Julian," he hissed, and leaned forward for a kiss.

Dax smirked, and slapped his face away. "Who told you I wanted it right now? Go sit down, like a good boy, and I'll go get us some drinks. If we're going to do this, we'll do it right." She pushed him a away with a quirky smile and added, "There will be no wham bam thank you ma'am in my quarters." With what she walked to her replicator.

Garak widened his eyes. This woman was surprising him at every turn! Left there, bereft with an ache growing more insistant with each passing moment, Garak growled, "You expect me to believe that someone like you enjoys foreplay? Please Commander, I wasn't born yesterday either."

Dax turned her shoulder on him. "Compared to my life span, you were." Garak frowned. Dax raised an eyebrow at him and her smile turned sharp. "What? You think this is mostly Jadzia speaking? I'll have you know Jadzia has been .... muted for the moment. Jadzia is interested in Worf. So am I, but I'm also interested in you for now." She stalked forward, the replicated drinks forgotten. "And if you whisper a word of this to a soul, I'll make certain that tongue of yours is ... permanantly tied."

Garak had never felt so small in his life. He was so used to being in control, to lead and demand and take. With Dax, he was disturbed to find himself ... vulnerable. Naked. He wanted to flee. This is not right, I should be in charge. I'm bigger, I'm stronger ... To prove it to himself, he lashed out again. This time, Dax ducked his attempts and reached out with her foot, slicing the air and making him trip. He fell to the floor with a loud thump. She fell over him and pinned his wrists to the floor, breathing harshly over him. "And you wonder why Worf beat you so easily on the Defiant?"

He hissed violently and threw her off with sheer strength. "No so easily I'm afraid," he bawled.

She grinned and sent her knee up into his groin, making him lose his breath long enough for her twist his arm around to his back and hiss in his ear, "But I'm not Worf."

"Indeed you're not," he panted, straining against the hold. "And aren't we all relieved you're not," he sneered.

He inhaled sharply when she pulled at his arm. "So are you ready to act like a good little boy and take what I give you? Or do I have to really teach you a lesson?"

Garak laughed, and bent forward at the waist, trading a slash of unbearable agony as he pulled the lithe woman over him and threw her on the floor. She landed on her back and arched away from the floor with a hiss of pain. Garak fell upon her, this time straddling her waist with thick, powerful thighs. "So. Is this what you did to poor Dukat before you fled? I almost pity him." He grinned and swooped down. "Almost." He steadied her face and kissed her bruisingly, pressing his lips hungrily over hers. Dax
accepted it this time, forfeiting any potential triumph to her own increasing arousal. She had been curious about him ... ever since Julian had bounced enthusiastically into Ops and babbled about the Cardassian spy. She had wondered what made Garak so fascinating ... so mysterious. And with her love for physical and psychological struggle, she wondered idly why it was it wasn't Garak in Worf's place. Worf had plenty of physical challenges to offer her, but when it came to mind games .... she feared Worf was not the best of players. Garak, on the other hand, had both burning strong in him. Perhaps this need not be only one occasion, she thought herself, and decided the kiss had gone on long enough. She struggled under him, and her hand found the tailor's scalding erection pushing against his trousers. Garak broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, and Dax grinned up at him. "Hmm ... that's what I love about being a woman ... they don't have these kind of vulnerabilities," she murmured, just before she dug her fingers into his balls. He cried out and rolled off of her, hissing air through his teeth. She climbed over him and put on an innocent pout. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, actually," he panted. "That was quite ... pleasurable." She smiled and leaned back, renewing the touch. She was lifted as Garak's hips came off the floor in a tight arch. "Ah, Commander, if you pursue this ... the whole encounter might turn very one-sided indeed. Now tell me ..." he rolled with her again and tore open her top uniform, exposing the lavender shirt. He lifted it up and ran his hands down her sides, fluttering over her darkening spots. "Are these sensitive?"

She snorted, and tongue in cheek, told him, "I don't know who started that rumor, but Trill spots are no more sensitive than Chakotay's tattoo."

He paused at the name and she waved it off. "Someone I knew. Now, Mr. Garak, you're lingering." She slid out from under him and yanked him up by an arm before dragging him to the bedroom. "As much a fan as I am of hard, harshly carpeted floors, I think we might appreciate a bed much more."

"I do agree with you, Commander ..." he whispered, and pushed her over it, discarding his tunic at the same time. Left only with trousers, he climbed the bed with her before they both went about to divest each other of unwanted clothing. It had been ages since last he'd held a woman's body between his hands. The last had been his wife, Sibel, though that was an old and bitter memory. And it was not the beautiful Jadzia's body which reminded him of her. No, Sibel had been a fragile creature ... thin, so impossibly thin, long limbs and graceful lithe agility. Her skin a dark, beautiful iron color, eyes blazant green. But her figure was deceptive. She had much of Dax's own spirit; fire and
determination, confidence and brimming rebellious intents. Garak had enjoyed his few years with her, but the end had been bitter. Bitter enough for him not to look upon another woman again. But here he was, now sliding smoothly into Jadzia's heated depths. He sighed in relief and fell over her, burying his face inside her neck as she pumped and unleashed months of frustration and bitter loneliness. He clutched her shoulders tightly and inhaled, memorising her scent, her presence, groaning with each thrusts. The climb was short, the peak shattering. For him, in any case. He cried out, his voice muffled into the pillow as he writhed over her, sighing softly as he descended languidly into depths of profoundly sated solicitude. Jadzia had dug her own nails into his back, feeling the ridged cock touch her so deeply she had winced when he'd first impaled her. She now sighed and moaned with delight, and peaked silently, closing her eyes and reveling in the dual pleasure. They both remained still, quietly returning to reality.

It was then Doctor Bashir's appalled gasp was heard. They spun their head around in shock, and stared silently at both Julian and Worf. Dax swallowed; Garak tried very hard not to smile.

"Worf ..."

"You did not answer you combadge," the Klingon rumbled angrily. "And when I tried to open your door, it was locked. I had to get Doctor Bashir to open it. We thought you were .... injured."

Oh please don't let me laugh, Garak thought with barely a lift of his lips.

"Worf, it's not--"

"I do not want to hear it!" Sparing a snarl for Garak, Worf turned on his heel and left with heavy footfalls. "Julian ... " Garak managed, watching the young doctor look from him to Dax incredulously. Finally he shook his head and turned around, following Worf's steps quietly.

And the sound which followed, totally unexpected, was Garak's triumphant and loud laughter echoing inside the Trill's bedroom. Soon after followed by a crack which could only have been a certain Trill's hand smacking him across the face.

The End