The Dress: Red
 

Janeway stopped. "Seven, thank you, no." She backed up slightly.

"Let me touch you," said Seven. "Please let me touch you."

Janeway held out her hand. She didn't know if she was reaching out to Seven or fending her off. To her surprise, Seven took her hand and brought it to her lips. Janeway could feel the other woman's mouth on the back of her hand. The sensation shot through her.

Seven looked up, the Captain's hand still in hers. "When I touch you, I feel you. Your response. I don't feel alone."

Seven let Janeway's hand go, so slowly that her fingertips traced a path on the palm, and each point on the path was a spark. And then they weren't touching, and Seven was looking at her with such longing that Janeway felt herself melting.

"I don't feel alone," Seven repeated, and Janeway reached forward and took Seven's face in her hands, bringing her lips to Seven's. It was for a moment almost a solemn gesture; it was only when she felt Seven's lips move against hers, part slightly, felt her own shiver of response, that she could no longer deny that this was a lover's kiss.

"I mustn't do this," she thought, but as she felt Seven's mouth beneath hers, as she heard the other woman's gasp of pleasure, she knew she had come too far to go back.

She took Seven's hand again, leading her to a seat, pulling her down beside her. And then she kissed Seven again, and Seven's mouth tasted wonderful, honey and sunlight and something sharp. She kissed her slowly, delicately, savoring each second, each millimeter of contact between them. She could hear her own breathing. With one hand she pulled the grey veil from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

Janeway took her mouth from Seven's, sat back slightly and looked at the other woman. She maintained the physical contact, caressing Seven's cheekbones, running her fingers across her full lips. She watched Seven, whose head was thrown back, eyes closed. The image of Seven as Borg flashed across her mind and she thought, this is the most powerful woman I have ever met. She remembered Seven of Nine on the Borg ship, her concentration, her certainty, and she thought, I saw something of myself in her then, something I am, something I aspire to. And now, in her aloneness, I see myself too.

Seven's hand rested against Janeway's right shoulder. Janeway knew that Seven was still immensely strong, that that Borg hand could crush her, and she knew with a certainty beyond reason that Seven would never hurt her.

Janeway began to kiss her again, very gently, telling herself she could stop, that perhaps Seven wanted no more than this, this tenderness, this touch of skin on skin. She felt herself trembling, and was surprised by the intensity of her own desire.

"Are you sure? Is this. . . "

"Oh, yes," said Seven. "Oh, please." Then she added: "The Doctor said it would be beneficial for me to engage in intimate activities."

It would have been off-putting, except that Seven sat before her, beautiful, face flushed, lips slightly parted.

"I see. What the Doctor ordered." Janeway smiled. "Why me?"

"You are aroused by me." Seven spoke softly, running her fingers along the Captain's temple down to the pulse at her neck.

"I'm sure I'm not the only one."

"No, you are not. But I have feelings towards you that I do not experience with the others on this ship. Your opinion is very important to me." Seven spoke slowly, deliberately. As she did she removed layers of grey fabric, touching Janeway whenever she could. She continued: "Although the computer tells me that you are not an unusual looking human, my own feelings tell me that you are."

Janeway felt Seven's fingers on her, moving methodically, almost as if she was soaking up something from her body.

"I think I'll take that as a compliment."

"The Doctor says that I often do not put things in the best way." Seven was still a moment, as if consulting a translation program. "Captain, you are very beautiful."

"Mm. Thank you. Could you call me by my name, for the moment?"

"Yes, Kathryn." The name sounded odd on Seven's lips, as if it was something she had never said before: odd, and intimate, and exciting. Janeway realized that quite possibly she never had said it before.

Janeway was leaning back now, pulling Seven down to her. Seven was kissing her neck, her collarbones, her breasts above the red garment. She brought her lips down, over the thin red fabric, finding Janeway's nipples.

"The Doctor says that I am in love with you."

Janeway started, tried to sit up. "The Doctor says . . . "

"I did not tell him that it was you. I did not lie exactly, but he believes me to be experiencing these feelings toward an ensign in the Astrometrics lab.

"I see." Did Seven love her? Was she capable? And was this taking advantage? Seven had most of the dress off now and was caressing the inside of Janeway's thighs while kissing the sides of her waist. It just wasn't the right time to think about it.

"Was that wrong?"

"No. Oh, ohh . . . " Seven's fingers were between her legs.

"I did not tell the Doctor it was you I desired because he says I view you as my mother."

Janeway grimaced. "I should have wiped out his psychoanalytic subroutines when I had the chance. And do you?" she asked, breathless.

"I find the idea distasteful. And inaccurate."

"Good. Ohhhh . . . "

Seven had thrust a finger inside her. One finger, and a second, pushing in, and upward. Janeway was gasping now. She felt the rhythm of Seven within her, the strength of her fingers, their skill. She felt her climax building until it was almost pain, and she thought she could bear it no longer, and then it crashed over her. As it ebbed, she realized that they had slid to the floor, that Seven was holding her, watching her face, her expression rapt.

She smiled up at Seven. "Was that assimilated knowledge, or have you been studying human anatomy?"

"I have been studying. While I received a certain amount of human knowledge in order to be your liaison with the Borg, that was not amongst it. I do not believe the Collective intended for me to . . ." She searched a moment for the phrasing. ". . .make love to you."

"No, I didn't get that impression. Well, you're an excellent student."

"I will tell the Doctor you said so." She smiled at Janeway's distressed look. "I am joking, Kathryn. It makes me happy that you enjoyed it."

"I know it's not a highly concealing or restricting garment, but do you think you could take this off? I'd do it myself, but I'm afraid it's beyond my analytic skills at the moment" Janeway's fingers traced about the neck of Seven's clothing.

Seven hesitated for a moment. Janeway felt the hesitation. "Wouldn't you like me to make love to you? I'd like to, very much." She spoke softly, her lips near Seven's ear.

"Oh yes, but . . . "

"What?" Janeway was kissing Seven's neck at her hairline. The blond woman shivered.

"I'm not, I'm not like you. My body . . . "

"I think that's apparent to everyone on the ship." Janeway's tone was affectionate, teasing.

"No. That's not what I mean. You're perfect."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. Seven certainly seemed to be catching on to the flattery thing.

"You're perfect, " she continued, "you're human. All of you. I'm . . ."

Seven was sitting up now. Janeway started to understand; she put her arms around the former Borg and spoke, seriously this time, "Seven, I don't care how much Borg technology is left; I don't care what you look like with your clothes off. I want you. Please."

Seven reached down and keyed something in on the heel of her left shoe. The seams of the suit fell apart at the neck and Seven began to peel it off, as one would the skin of a banana. Janeway was surprised to see that the material was heavier than it looked, that under its smooth surface it contained a fair quantity of bio-mechanical support webbing.

"It's okay to take it off?" she asked, concerned.

"Yes, for a time."

Janeway noticed that Seven's breasts were smaller than they looked clothed. And quite beautiful. Some of her ribcage and lower back were a dark metallic color. The rest appeared perfectly human though a little less smooth and rounded than in the clothes. "You're lovely," she said. "And not just your body. I suppose the Doctor has some rationale for your costume, but . . ." As Seven started to speak, Janeway silenced her with a kiss. ". . .I don't think I want to hear any more about the Doctor. At this moment."

Janeway held Seven in her arms, kissing her, bringing her mouth between the blond woman's legs, savoring the taste of her, the softness, the wetness. Seven responded intensely, her cries expressing delight and surprise. As she came her cries were so loud that Janeway found herself hoping the soundproofing was adequate. Then she pulled Janeway up to lie against her.

"Amazing," said Seven. "What is the purpose of this biological response? . . ."

"I don't know exactly. We could ask the Doctor . . .later" Janeway nuzzled her face into Seven's hair, which had come loose. "You know, we can't be lovers." He voice was low. She worried that Seven would misunderstand her. "I mean, I do love you, but we can't do this on a regular basis."

"No, Kathryn, I understand. Protocol. It would be detrimental to the order of this human collective. But I have an excellent memory."

"Mine's not up to yours, but I don't think I'm going to forget this. You are the most beautiful, and the strangest lover that I have ever had."

"I think I will take that as a compliment."

"Do."

Seven climbed back into her suit; Janeway pulled on the robe she had been wearing before dressing for the Kedzian party. It seemed a long time ago. A check with the ship's computer determined that there was no one in the corridors near the Captain's quarters.

The women stood near the door. They kissed. It was a slow, soft kiss. Janeway felt the spark of passion returning, and stepped back. It was very late.

"Goodnight, Seven"

"Goodnight, Captain."

The door slid open and Seven disappeared into the corridor.

Janeway turned back towards the room. The pieces of the Kedzian outfit were spread across the sofa, the floor. The light caught the red dress which seemed almost to glow.

Janeway left them where they lay and headed into the bedroom.

The End