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Raoul nudged Sven as the man came through the door, checking the address before he entered. He was about
their height, trim without being thin and nicely, if quietly dressed in shades of brown and cream. It
was his hair that caught the eye though, shoulder length and black, with a wing of dark hair
falling over his forehead and a wide lock of white brushed back over his head in a stripe.
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"That's got to be him. No wonder she calls him PePe," whispered Raoul as the stranger approached them.
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"I'm looking for a Jane E. Wayne. We have an appointment. I'm from the Center."
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"Yes, she is expecting you. I'll just give her a call that you have arrived," said Sven, walking to the end
of the store and yelling up through a hole in the ceiling, "Hey JAYYYYNEEEYYYY...you got male," and then
turning back to the stranger to say in sweet and dulcet tones, "You can go up now."
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The stranger bit back a laugh, thanked Sven and asked where he should go to get up. Sven and Raoul looked at
each other, deciding whether to go for the obvious comment, grinned at the stranger, who, to his credit, just
shook his head in amusement, decided on decorum, then both pointed to the web. The stranger gave them a
long look, walked over to the web, pulled at a strand to test its strength, looked back at them, sighed in
resignation, and started to climb.
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He pulled himself up through the portal, rolled to the side, his back to the rest of the room, then rather
stiffly and with a decided lack of grace, hauled himself to his feet, dusting off his clothes as he did so.
He turned to survey the workshop, expecting to see the designer laughing at his entrance. The shop itself
was well lit and looked pleasantly efficient to him, in an alien sort of way, but it was empty. His eyes
were drawn ceilingward as a mechanical click signaled the opening of another aperture.
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From that opening he heard strange subdued chattering and clicking and
a whispered "No! I can't do it! This is embarrassing!"
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An answering whisper in a scratchier voice said, "Sure you can. Trust me on this.
You'll thank me in the morning."
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As he moved toward the voices, toes appeared through the opening, painted toes with little sparkly things
on the loveliest feet. He hoped this was the mysterious designer he'd come to meet. He found her entrance
amusing and mildly erotic. He hoped that was her intention. The lovely feet
with the sparkly painted toes were followed by slender ankles. The left ankle was encircled by a small silver
chain with tiny bells that tinkled softly as slender legs, semi-swaddled in some soft skirt thing,
exposed then covered, exposed again, were next to drift down toward him.
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He drifted forward, entranced. She was now revealed to her chest. The soft skirt thing was
more a tube sort of dress thing, slit to the thigh, providing those tantalizing glimpses of leg. It became
tighter the more his eyes ascended and she descended. The dress hugged a very pert fanny, skimmed a trim
waist and clung to her breasts. The breasts, though not the largest he'd seen, were well formed and more
than a handful. He wondered how much more than a handful. That reverie brought his interest to the
forefront far more than he thought prudent for a first meeting. She had twirled again with her
back toward him as he stepped up to stand almost beneath her, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of her face,
catching only a flash of white hair.
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He spoke, "You make quite an entrance. You're Janey? At least I profoundly hope you are Janey."
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What she answered was, "Erp!"
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The slender cord she had been holding suddenly twitched and, just as suddenly, the woman tipped upside down
and started to fall. A weird sort of clicking issued from above them. He lunged to grab her and found himself
with an armful of upside-down woman, now hidden
within the fabric of the dress and her very pert fanny in his face. The fanny was encased in white panties,
with loose lacy stuff around the legs, exposing a bit of rosy, pink cheeks. He caught a whiff of her scent,
just a touch of warm bread with an under scent of flowers. His 'interest' throbbed again and he realized that
might be her first view of him. The clicking increased in volume. He started to turn her over when he
heard her muffled voice, "You knew! You knew all along and you never told me! Queenie, how could you do
this to me?"
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He froze mid-turn. That voice!
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He flipped her upright. It was her! But before he could gather his thoughts to say a word, a huge black
apparition dropped down from the ceiling. He pulled Kathryn closer, wrapping her in his arms, trying to
protect her as the enormous spider kept clicking, circling, and spinning until she had wrapped them quite
firmly together.
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"Oh my, he does look delicious. Aren't you going to introduce me to the Director, Janey?"
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He stumbled back a step, his eyes widening and his mouth hanging open.
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Kathryn said, "Queenie! Will you please behave!" She looked up at him with a rueful smile, "Ignore her.
You are not exactly who I was expecting. Actually, I didn't know who I was expecting. Well, I knew who
but..."
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His head swiveled between the woman in his arms and the clicking black spider.
"Huh? What is..? Who are..? How?" He gave up trying to formulate a coherent question.
" You want to help me out here?"
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The spider clicked again, "Is he always so eloquent? I guess I'll have to introduce myself."
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"You are being incorrigible. Now cut us out of this thing, Queenie."
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"What? No introduction?"
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Kathryn was gyrating between embarrassment and frustration,
"Chakotay, Queenie. Queenie, Chakotay. Now will you let us out?"
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Queenie did her little curtsey bob to a still confused Chakotay, "Queen Arachnida Screech Tappity, to give my
full name, but you can call me Queenie," then said to Kathryn, "Sorry Janey, I have an ever so important
meeting right now. Gotta run. You'll have to get out of Motif Number One yourself. Ta." She scuttled over
to the portal Chakotay had so recently exited, dropping down through it, calling, "Girls! Close up. We're
taking the day off."
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Chakotay watched, his mental wheels spinning, getting nowhere. "Arachnia?" He looked down at Kathryn, "She's
kidding, right?"
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Kathryn seemed to be doing a little mental spinning herself. She returned his gaze steadily for a few moments,
straightened, took a deep breath, decided to make the best of the situation and snuggled even closer to him.
She said, "No, that's her real name."
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"Is this your idea of a joke?"
|
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"Not mine, no."
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"Well, that creature has a malicious sense of humor. How are we supposed to get out of this?"
|
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Kathryn stiffened, "That 'creature' is my friend and malicious is the last thing she was trying to be! She was
trying to make me happy. As to getting out of this, that is the whole point of Motif Number One."
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Chakotay took a large breath and tried to center himself, "Kathryn, it would be very nice if just one
thing made sense. Let's start small. What is Motif Number One and why has your 'friend' decided wrapping us
up in a cocoon would make you happy? And why the hell didn't you tell me who you were?"
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"Technically, spiders don't spin cocoons, they spin...."
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"Kathryn!"
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"I could you ask the same damn thing. You weren't particularly forthcoming either. I think it's obvious,
don't you? I don't know how successful you have been at forming new relationships since we came back, but I
haven't. This fame thing is hell to live with."
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"Yes, it is. Is that why you dyed your hair white?"
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"I stopped dyeing it, Chakotay. And you, with that streak of white and ever so attractive lock of hair
over your tattoo, is that an effective disguise? Can you just blend in with the populace?"
She slid her hand up from his chest, and gently
ran her fingers through his hair. "You look so smolderingly mystical with longer hair. Quite effective for
your line of work, I imagine." She smiled at him.
"It's kind of sexy. I like it. Are you saying you really didn't know it was me?"
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"About as effective as all white hair, I suppose. I should have known. Jane Wayne," he laughed, "that was kind
of an obvious tip off. No, I was just so thankful that Janey could push my buttons the same way Kathryn
did that I didn't want to think too much about why. I figured I'd blown any kind of a chance at having
that kind of relationship again. You look kind of sexy yourself, way sexy actually. You really didn't
know either?"
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"No, and I should have. I kept comparing the way PePe was different from Mark. I did the same thing the
first time I met you. You were kind of prickly then, and pushy," She smiled again, "Just like now."
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He smiled back, "I have to be. The hired help tends to be a bit hard to handle." He tightened his hug,
"So, what's this Motif Number One thing?"
|
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Kathryn relaxed against him again and grinned, "Sometimes, on those long, late, lonely watches
I would kind of let my mind drift." She snuggled again still smiling.
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He could feel her body pressed against him, wriggling a bit. It was awhile before her words caught up
with the other sensations flooding his brain. The light was beginning to dawn. His eyes widened, "Oh?"
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Her wriggling had turned to slow, deliberate undulations, "Umhum....and Motif Number One was my favorite."
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She had stimulated his 'interest' again and he tentatively responded to the undulations. She seemed to like
it, so he became less tentative, nuzzling against her neck, "And that one would be ...?"
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She exposed more of her throat to him, "That one would be where we.."
|
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"We?"
|
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"Umhum, we....where we were trapped in something...turbolift, Jeffries tube.."
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"Cocoon."
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| |
She laughed, "Cocoon....and for some reason...too hot, alien possession.."
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"Sticky web stuff?"
|
| |
"Sticky web stuff...we'd have to..."
|
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"Let me guess this part," he said, nipping at her ear lobes, "If it's anything like the ones I've
imagined, the next thing would be the necessity of removing our clothes?"
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She moaned as slid his tongue over her ear, "Ummm...yes..that's about it."
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He feathered kisses along her jaw line, "And is she right?"
|
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Kathryn was lost in the feel of his lips brushing against her skin. "Mmmmm....who?"
|
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He pulled back to gaze at her, "Is your friend right? Will this make you happy?"
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She returned his gaze steadily, "Yes, this would make me very happy. And if this is all there is to be
between us, it will be enough. But I would be delirious if this is the start of
something, not the ending," She slid her hand back up to cup his face in her palm. "I
love you. I'm finally ready to let myself love you. All the time we were writing
to each other, I kept thinking that the only way the man in those letters could be more wonderful
was if he was Chakotay...and you are."
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"Delirious would be good. I'd definitely like to try for delirious." He tightened his
hug, burying his face against her neck, "I love you too. I've always loved you. I can't make
myself stop loving you, no matter how hard I've tried....or with whom." He pulled back to
look at her again. Kathryn, I'm so..."
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She stopped him, "Shh, shh. Chakotay, we've had so many false starts, so many times. This feels
like our last chance. Let's deal with all our 'issues' later. This time let's just keep going.
Agreed?"
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"Agreed." His hands were free but the sleeves of his shirt were welded to the web, holding him
immobile. He chuckled. "Any suggestions how we continue painting this motif?"
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"Just a few." Her arms had been pressed between them but they weren't glued to anything. She slid her hands
along the press seal of his shirt, exposing his chest. She noticed that he'd gotten a bit leaner since she'd
last seen him. And he'd built up some rather impressive musculature. She nuzzled the musculature.
He buried his face against her neck again, and did some nuzzling of his own. She slid her hands down his belly
and released the seal on his pants. The space between them was too limited to allow much exploration there
so she slid her hands up his chest again, running her hands under his shirt to his shoulders.
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"Pull your arms out of the sleeves."
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He did, though not without a lot of gyrating against each other as he maneuvered. He came to understand
why she ranked this motif Number One. She'd slid her hands down to his waistband. The only place left for
his hands was on her breasts. He put them there. Just as he had speculated, a bit over a handful, but
soft and heavy, with prominent nipples pressing against the fabric. This was good. Big breasts were
delightful to look at, but for any serious enjoyment, he'd take prominent nipples any day, especially if
the woman sporting them moaned and wriggled the way Kathryn was doing each time he brushed a thumb
across them.
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She was struggling with his pants. The web still bound them and she couldn't push the pants and the web down
without sticking the web against his skin. "Chakotay, we are going to have to lie down and then you'll have
to slide out."
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It took a bit of maneuvering but they managed. He lay full length over her. But for his worry that he'd
crush her, he decided this was a very good place to be. He started to slide out over her. She hooked
her hands on his waistband and he wriggled out of his pants. She made sure her hands had a firm hold on
his underwear as well. That wasn't really necessary to free him from the web, but it did seem in spirit
with Motif Number One. After a bit of a struggle his penis was freed, bobbing and throbbing in front of
her face. She did the obvious. He tried to limit his enjoyment to just short of explosive and gently
continued his slid over her and out of the web. She now lay encased in the collapsed web. He extended
a hand and she slid hers out of the clothing lined web and up to him. He pulled her upright.
The web,still glued to the back of her dress, hung around her.
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"The seal is on the back. I'm afraid you are going to have to cut me out of this. There are scissors on
the work bench."
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He gave her a loopy, leering grin and turned to get the scissors. She watched him; his bare bottom was as dimpled
as his smile. Very nice, very nice indeed. He came back and with another leer began to cut down from her neck.
When he came to her brassiere, he carefully inserted the scissors between her skin and the fabric and cut that
in half also. He slid a hand under the fabric and gently pinched her nipples. She gave a little moan but didn't
move. He continued cutting down the dress, with a slight detour to clip away her underwear as well. She moved
her arms out of the sleeves and let the dress fall to the floor. He stood there staring. She was a mature
Aphrodite emerging out of the pool of silken threads at his feet. Her hair a white halo, her skin pale gold
with freckles dusted like pollen over her shoulders. Her breasts hanging heavy, ripe fruit waiting to be plucked, her
nipples, dark rose. A slender waist over slender hips with a small, rounded belly led down to her nether hair.
It was as white as the hair on her head. He dropped the scissors and scooped her into his arms, carrying her
over to a pillow arrangement in front of a loom.
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He set her down and started to gather the pillows together. She stopped him saying, "No, not here."
Then, responding to his questioning look, "I don't know about you, but I've grown a bit long in the tooth to
enjoy grappling around on the floor when there is a bed available. Mine is just upstairs. May I take you
to bed, my dear Director?"
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He looked at the aperture from which she had descended, then at her, "You certainly may, but how...?"
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She took his hand, leading him toward the back of the workshop, "I suggest we take the
stairs."
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He followed her, admiring the way faint freckles dusted her hips and gently slid down the small of her
back to nestle at the base of her spine.
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She turned, putting a hand to his chest, "I'm going with you when
the Center ship leaves."
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He stopped. "You are?"
|
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"I'd like to, yes. A Starfleet presence would be.."
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"A Starfleet presence would be a pain in the butt! Now wait one darn minute, Kathryn. You and Starfleet
are not going to waltz into this project with a set of superior attitudes and restrictive protocols that.."
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She slid her arms around his neck, kissing him and effectively aborting his objections. "That is not what
I'm suggesting. Starfleet support could open many doors...cut through many protocols..that you will, " she
smiled at him, "...butt up against."
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He accepted the kiss, listened to her words, then held her at arms length. "Listen to me. Starfleet would
open the doors it wanted to open and cut through protocols it felt needed cutting. My vision, the Center's
vision, needs to be superior to any Starfleet agenda in order for this to make any difference
at all. Starfleet is a hidebound, opportunistic, self-promoting piece of..."
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She stopped him. "Starfleet has lost its way. People within Starfleet have become hidebound, opportunistic,
self-promoting and paranoid. This could be the first step to returning it.."
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"Spirits, you are a piece of work. You are not only planning to take over my program, you are going to
take over Starfleet too? I should have known you'd need a challenge after dismembering the Borg. I will
not allow you to make this into your little reclamation project."
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"Reclamation project? Why you smug, power grasping.....petty bureaucrat! You are behaving no different
than the very people in Starfleet you are so disparaging of. What have we been discussing for the last few
months? What happened to 'each person has the responsibility to use the strengths, resources, energies,
every fiber of one's being to touch the essence of an interconnected universe and a cooperative life?'
I believed you. This is who I am. It what I have to offer."
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He looked at her. She returned his gaze, standing there on the steps, exposed, waiting. He lowered his gaze
and lowered himself to sit upon a step. "You shame me."
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She sat beside him, "I hadn't meant to."
|
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"I know." He looked at her again, "Isn't this a rather sudden decision."
|
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"No, it's not really. I had already made the decision to proposition the Director when I met him."
|
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"Well, you've accomplished that goal."
|
| |
She laughed, "Not like this. I meant..."
|
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"I know what you meant. But you must admit, that was a rather...provocative entrance to a business deal."
|
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"Well, I'd hoped to establish more than a business deal. I had come to respect this Director and thought I
could come to care for him."
|
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"What no protocols?"
|
| |
"Given the personal, interrelated nature of the Center, pursuing a romantic relationship seemed a viable option.
And..." She stopped.
|
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"And?"
|
| |
"And I was stuck."
|
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He looked confused at this, but waited patiently for her to explain. She did. She knew what is was to lose
someone through death. It was a painful lesson, but she had learned how to let go of her father and Justin,
even when grief stricken and guilt ridden for having survived, although the lesson had nearly driven her mad.
She knew what it was to have someone leave her and she'd learned how to let go of Mark too and be happy for
him. But Chakotay was different. She never really been able to give herself to him, but she hadn't been able to
let go of him either, even when he married. She couldn't let go, couldn't move on. She was stuck.
She'd spent the last year trying to learn how to get unstuck.
|
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When she and PePe started to explore caring for each other she was determined to at least try to love someone
else. But she was getting too old for a long, slowly developing relationship, like the one she and Mark had,
or for years of silent longing, bound and caught by duty, never to reach out, as she had for Chakotay.
She couldn't go through that again. This time she was just going to offer herself to the man and keep moving.
|
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He understood. It had been that way with him, as well. He talked about Seven. He talked about his home
and losing his family. He talked to her more, sitting naked upon the step, than he had in
the nine years they had known each other.
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They talked. All of the longing, all of the hurts, the laughs, the flirting, the arguments, the shared tears,
all of their lives together, yet apart, were gently placed between them and they talked. The morning sun crawled
up the wall, casting runes from loom, shuttle and thread, as they sat upon the step and wove their lives together.
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~~~part 6 - No More Buttons to Press~~~
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