Like The Way You Like Me Best
As explorers of the galaxy sometimes we do the most dangerous things. I know I do.
I suppose it’s because I’ve come to enjoy the risk. The fear of having to face the consequences of my actions. Of being caught in this most compromising of situations. I suppose these are the reasons that I find myself coming back here. This will be the third time. And I suppose that this just adds to the excitement, the risk of being discovered in a place such as this, and with such a definite purpose.
It is a strange place, architecturally I mean, it doesn’t quite fit in with the rest of the buildings in this Southern most continent of the Callimpian home world. Clearly the scientific revolution has not yet reached Briglastaan, Vixhaaden. I for one am grateful.
Of course you cannot tell what it is merely by looking at it. You really have to go inside.
I knock in rapid succession on the heavy wooden door and like magic it disintegrates. I should be more prepared for this, after all it is similar to our very own force field technology. But here, in this place, it doesn’t seem quite right. Maybe it is the long dark corridor that I’m suddenly facing. Deep, deep into the bowels of hell I stride. Unable to turn back, like a moth to the flame I shall burn.
As I approach the end a small bi-pedal life form shimmers into existence. A hologram with integrated multi-adaptive technology with the ability to alter appearance in accordance with the prospective client.
It is here that I must pay, he tells me. His voice is ageless, but his eyes betray his soul.
I offer up my replicated currency, he bites down on a coin before spitting it into a bucket. The rest are poured like drops of latinum from the now empty purse.
The door suddenly is opened to reveal my own personal den of inequity.
The main room where I shall have my choice of attraction seems larger than it really is. A well stocked bar runs the length of the right hand wall. There are six tables and six booths. But I know where I shall sit. I think maybe I should choose a different one for the sake of variety, but why would I when I’ve already got the best seat in the house and it just so happens to be right in front of the stage. I've spent many a happy hour at this table. Speaking of ‘Happy hour’…
I signal the bartender. For courage. I shall need more than one. How many, I wonder, would repress the bile that is rising in my throat? I feel that I am betraying her, but I am beyond redemption. Where are my years of training now in this my most pressing hour of need? They have abandoned me as I’m sure she herself would if she ever found out about this, my secret obsession.
For tonight I know what I desire.
I should, for after all, I programmed it this way.
I accept a second drink. Whiskey, no soda. I delight in the burn as it trickles slowly down the back of my throat trailing a path of flames into the pit of my stomach. Imagery of hell occupies my thoughts. A blazing inferno. Maybe the alcohol will douse the flames… Of course not, it’s flammable isn’t it?
While it is true that I am no stranger to holo sex but, I tell myself, there’s holo and there’s hollow. Tonight, as every other night spent in this pleasure pit, I will lose myself. Lose my dignity. My power. My mind maybe, who knows? Certainly not I at this point.
A third drink is placed before me. I lift the glass but do not drink instead I take a moment to assess the competition. There are between ten and twenty different characters here at any one time. Mostly men. Mostly here for the same thing I am. Mostly.
There are five, no six, women. One for every occasion. Holographic whores.
A part of me is disgusted, what I have planned is wholly unfitting of a federation captain, hell its unfitting of students at the academy yet to pursue their careers. Starfleet it is not. But tonight I have left my rank outside with the doorman, the flecks of gold easily exchanged for this secret world of pleasure.
My attention is drawn to the stage as a flash of smoke and light signals the raising of the curtain. Raucous cheering erupts as the show begins.
A soft wash of blue illuminates the lone figure giving her an ethereal quality. An angel of debauchery presiding over both heaven and hell. She is everything one could want in a hologram. Tall, blonde, sexy. I feel myself being pulled into her innocent seduction, arousal stirs deep within me. I know what is coming.
Instinctively I feel someone watching me. I am reminded of countless Velocity matches in which my intuition afforded me victory. Strange that I should feel that way in here. Keeping one eye on the stage I glace around, not bothering being furtive for after all holograms do not betray secrets. A nagging voice chimes and I know it to be the voice of truth. It would not do for me to be caught with my pants down, for want of a better expression. The fear escalates as I consider my conduct here in both the past and, I hope, in the future. Blood courses through my veins and my hearing becomes slower, my eyesight slightly blurred as I engage my sixth sense.
There. In the corner.
An androgynous shape hidden deep in the shadows, a glint of sliver shining like a terran magpie’s treasure. Oh my. It couldn’t be. Could it?
Suddenly the figure comes into the fore, bathed in the bright illumination of the bar. I can make out more of her form now, definitely female, delicately wrapped in both leather and lace. A little too bondage for my tastes with strategically places holes allowing her to breath and see. The hologram swiftly moves to another table and whispers something in a broad mans ear. He nods and she straddles him, his hands grasp her hips. She bends to his ear again. I am entranced, having previously never paid much attention to holographic interaction, when suddenly my sixth somewhat redundantly informs me that I am once again being watched. I say redundant because my sense of sight is still working just fine. There is nothing surreptitious about it this time. Both holograms are, well it could only be described as, glaring at me.
I have the good grace to look away, but just for a second as I claim my glass and take a hearty swig. I roll an ice cube in my mouth before biting down and crushing it with my teeth. Well I fought the Borg and won didn’t I? As I swallow the liquid ice the voyeur in me demands a second chance. I look for the couple but now there is only one. Alone. It is the man. He raises his glass in acknowledgement, a question in his eyes.
The opening swell of music has come to an abrupt end, a moment of silence comes down heavy as a shroud and the lighting dims to an even more sapphire haze wrapping itself around the beautiful figure still perched upon her throne.
Without warning a loud voice filled the air echoing slightly in the expanse of the room.
"I like your pants around your feet,"
She turned her head sharply, her chin tilted towards the floor. Her profile picked up with the brighter white light of a solitary spotlight.
"And I like the dirt that’s on your knees,"
Her hands slipped to her knees and pulled them apart seductively as if commanded by the lyrics.
"And I like the way you still say please,"
She fell flat on the floor and began to push herself back up by her hands.
"When you’re looking up at me
You’re like my favourite damn disease."
The chair forgotten, she got to her feet in time to meet a second character. A redhead. With a somewhat commanding presence.
The next part of the song went by unheard as I became deeply involved in the tale of seduction being depicted in front of me. The redhead began to circle the blonde, careful measured steps.
Absolute control, I noted.
I wondered what would it take to make her lose it? Very little I suspect.
My attention once again focused on the blonde as the masculine voice began again,
"And now I know who you are
It wasn’t that hard
Just to figure you out"
She was writhing on the floor as if in some kind of delectable torture, the redhead stepped forward, I understood her to be the voice of the piece. Husky, but so far, restrained. A single finger lifted the blonde’s chin who in turn soon found her knees, and then her feet.
An expression of.. God, was that arrogance? A reversal of roles aided no doubt by the fact that when standing, the blonde towered a good six inches above her smaller companion. Still the redhead refused to bow down, consternation colouring her otherwise fine features. It was the blonde’s turn to circle her prey. She paused when directly behind and reached a hand across red’s chest shredding the flimsy fabric and pulling her tightly to her.
"I like the freckles on your chest,"
I was fascinated, a moment before the she had seemed so weak, the redhead in control freeing her from her torment, and now.., God now she was looking directly at me.
Her hand had travelled lower from its position and was now resting above the redheads crotch. Her palm flattened as she pushed long fingers further between her legs. Red’s knees suddenly seemed to give out and honestly who could blame her? I was about there myself; thank god I was already sitting. The music swelled with a crash of guitars and drums and the redhead was lowered to her knees, the blonde remaining behind her all the time.
"I love the white stains on your dress,"
A loud tap brings me sharply back to the present and I become aware of a presence at my elbow.
It is the dark man from the corner table. I turn my head putting my face directly in line with his pelvis. I cannot suppress the thrill that shoots through me. Undoubtedly it is what I have witnessed upon the stage. The loss of control. The yin and the yang of it.
He bends now and I can see his eyes. Oh my they are deep, so deep I could fall. I take in his body, his musculature.
"And I love your lack of self respect"
He leans forward to nuzzle my neck, I allow it. His hand holds me in place as my neck tingles from teeth dragged across my skin,
"As you’re passed out on the deck, "
I shiver but I am not cold. He turns my head towards him and pulls me into a lip crushing kiss. Our tongues fight a dual for dominance. I am defeated.
"I love my hands around your neck,"
Oh Lord I’m on fire. Please don’t let me burn. Somewhere in this smoky haze a thought breaks through unbidden. He should have a taste.
Smoke. Drink. Anything.
He does not. His lips unrepentant gave way to a strong tongue hitch should have been capable of making me squirm and moan, and yet, something is missing.
I open my eyes and see the blonde and the redhead locked in a struggle of power, which is not to imply that it is a masculine conflict. It isn’t. Physicality gives way to a subtle game of temptation and restraint with neither woman able to establish dominance, both willing to bend, neither willing to break.
They stand face to face, their legs entwined; their bodies touch only at their most intimate level. The music wells to a crescendo of guitars and drums.
I watch as the blonde’s lips part in response to the redhead’s hand caressing her cheek. A soft gesture yet highly erotic, if a little out of synch with the battle for dominance. Soon the hand travels lower, and the blonde’s eyes snap open suddenly and lock with mine. Her eyes feel like a touch more intimate than any masculine paramour has placed upon my skin. With a shove I push him away. He is angered at first, but he can tell there is no use. That I am under her spell.
And he is right.
Of course there are subtle differences.
Her lips aren’t quite as full. Her eyes aren’t quite as blue. Her figure isn’t quite as perfect.
But the similarities are striking and try as I might I just can’t stop thinking about her.
I open my eyes and see that the blonde has shifted position. She now lies directly at the redheads feet, a well placed stiletto heel pins her to the floor. She stretches, dangerous as a caged lion, testing her boundaries. Unwilling to accept defeat.
I am drawn in again at the sound of his voice, stripped now of all musical adornment. Just raw power and sexuality.
"I like your pants around your feet,"
A drum beat belts out a rhythm like a count of three and the blonde quickly flips over, her back arched in silent sacrifice.
"And I like the dirt that’s on your knees,"
Her chair discarded, the redhead straddles across her blonde quarry, her knees settling either side of the angels hips. Her hands rest by wild blonde hair.
"And I like the way you still say please,"
The redhead reaches down to capture her lips but the blonde has anticipated her, she uses her superior strength to flip them both.
"While you’re looking up at me, you’re like my favourite damn disease"
Oh god, they’re kissing. I’m wet Lord knows I’m so wet.
I reach down and caress my breast through my silken shirt my eyes never leave the stage. My lips part, I watch the redhead swallow and I can’t help myself I moan.
They are wrapped up inside one another’s arms. So strong together. So sensual.
They writhe together pulling ever closer, as though they cannot get enough.
Clinging to one another for support they both kneel, the redhead once again at the front but now her clothes are in tatters. The blonde’s fingers stretch out across her stomach, the fingers of the other hand move over her opening and begin to rub in slow, deliberate circles. My eyes slam shut. This is too much. I desperately need release. I feel a dull throb as all the blood in my body rushes south. My brain forces my eyes to remain open; my body is at warp... Her eyes are upon me again as she enters her partner. And in a flash it was over. Had I imagined it?
The blonde leant down for one final kiss before standing and leaving the stage.
She did not look back, yet once again I felt watched, exposed.
The redhead steadied her against the fallen chair.
"And now I know who you are
It wasn’t that hard
Just to figure you out
And now I did you wonder why
Why not before – you never tried
Gone for good, and this is it."
The music came to an abrupt end in imitation of the blonde’s quick departure.
The Captain of Voyager. A captive voyeur. My nipples are tight against the silken fabric of my shirt, my parts suddenly feeling far too warm and too tight. I am breathing heavily now. I lift my glass and drain it in one. It does nothing to quench my thrust.
Suddenly I feel eyes upon me again. This time I turn only my head.
I can’t quite make out who it is but I lick my lips seductively anyway. I am too far gone to care.
II turned back to face the front and waited, the song had been replaced by something equally as erotic, but this time no lyrics. I felt a presence and willed myself not to turn around.
A touch. Feather light upon my neck. Again. This time upon my jaw. Fingers spread out to feel my lips, my chin and back, involuntarily I lean into the caress.
I felt strength in the hands but intuition told me they were inherently feminine. Well intuition and slightly long fingernails.
I turn my head to face my unknown aficionado but my jaw is gripped in place.
She leans down and kisses my ear lobe, her hand pulling me down from my chair, making me kneel before her on the floor. Her tongue tastes the sweat upon my neck, her hand tangles in my hair. I try for another glimpse and am rewarded by a shock of blonde hair. Oh my.
Our positioning. Of course, it is the blonde seductress that had left the redhead broken and wanting. Oh god I hoped that she wouldn’t do that to me.
Her hand moved from its possessive hold of my jaw and began to fumble with the buttons of my blouse. Strange that she should fumble now when all night she has been a lioness waiting to pounce. Were her fingers shaking?
I placed my hand over hers, more to steady her than to stop her, but she pulled back as though burnt.
I froze, afraid that she would leave me. I heard a ragged sigh at my ear and then a voice, so husky with arousal;
"I like you’re pants around your feet"
She pushed the waistband, no longer hesitating and my pants fell to pool around my knees.
"And I like the dirt that’s on your knees"
She trails a finger from my knee to my thigh. I am beyond help, my head thrown back. Wanton I buck into her touch.
"Please," I hissed.
I felt her lips curve into a smile as the continued to kiss my neck. With a surprising show of strength she ripped open my shirt and divested me of it. I knelt, now in front of her dressed only in my black lace underwear. Her lips come back to my ear
"And now I know who you are
It wasn’t that hard
Just to figure you out..."
Her fingers began to stroke my stomach, moving slowly towards my breast. Finally she touched my nipples now distended and uncomfortable in the confines of my bra... Her voice took on a new tone now, she sounded… almost reverent;
"And I like the freckles on your chest,"
I smiled at this, unprepared as her fingers spread my lips and felt my wetness for the first time.
"And I like the way you like me best,"
Oh she was right. Well almost anyway, and God forgive me, I couldn’t stop this now if I wanted to.
And I didn’t.
"Touch me. Don’t stop."
For a second I thought she would resist, but my need was too great. I grabbed her hand and guided her to me, both of us setting the rhythm. It was possibly the most erotic experience of my life.
I threw my head back in a howl of pleasure and she took this opportunity to capture my lips. So full. Yielding. Commanding. Feminine. Strong.
Her kiss was all these things and it ignited passion deeper still within me. Her tongue caressed my own slowly, as if she had all the time in the world. I groaned into her mouth as I imagined her tasting me… As I imagined tasting her. Her mouth was sweet, like chocolate and mint, her tongue cool in contrast to my fire. I could feel her breasts pressing against my back, I arched into the contact. She gasped suddenly, drawing air from my mouth.
Her fingers continued to draw intimate circles upon me.
"Inside," I begged.
It took her a few moments before she tentatively placed a single finger inside me as if testing or teasing my swollen flesh.
"More," I cried. I was well past the point of self-recriminations. They would come later, no doubt.
For now I was lost in the moment. Of her. Of me. Of us.
I stopped breathing as I felt two fingers plunge inside. She made no move to withdraw them so I took command. I began to raise myself, all the time sucking in shuddering breath, before lowering onto her in some kind of mutual masturbation. A long moan ripped forth from my throat unbidden.
I brought my fingers to her lips and she instinctively sucked them inside, her warm mouth sucking my small digits. Her eyes followed my hands decent until it came to rest just above where she was so expertly penetrating me. I began rubbing myself as she took over the rhythm of my hips.
I could tell she was watching now. Her sharp intake of breath and increased pressure and speed indicated she liked what she saw.
Our lips joined as she pushed me closer and closer towards the edge.
"Oh yes, please don’t stop... don’t…"
"I will not."
Her hot breath at my ear was the final straw. In that very second I felt all of my walls come crashing down as a wave of pleasure as big as a super nova burst through my body. Need. Desire. Happiness. Regret. Guilt. My mind a maelstrom of emotions. So powerful, when had it ever been this good? And with a hologram?
"Oh God I,."
A computerised bleep stopped me mid sentance. My comm. badge. Shit.
"Seven of Nine, this is the Doctor please respond."
Seven of Nine? Why would he be calling her on the holodeck? Surely he’s checked the scheduling?
"Seven respond."
I felt a hand shift from under me, another soft bleep the only sound.
"This is Seven. What do you require?"
Oh no. No. No. No. No way. This is not happening.
"Have you forgotten about our scheduled lesson? I thought we’d do Command Staff Protocols and your role in relation to them? But if you’re already on the holodeck I’ll just transfer my matrix there."
"No!" I shout.
Silence.
"Captain?"
Why me? Oh god… Why did this have to happen to me?!
"That will not be necessary doctor."
"But Seven needs to brush up on her protocols!"
I don’t think I have ever been more painfully aware of that. I deliberately shook my head hoping she would take the hint.
"Captain Janeway has just provided me with an extensive lesson in Command Staff Protocol Doctor, additional tutelage is not required."
"Well I must say this is highly irregular."
For once I have to agree with him.
"It will have to be sufficient. Seven out."
Seven’s argument with the Doctor had provided me with an opportunity for me to reacquaint myself with my clothing.
Pants meet… Kathryn Janeway.
*Captain* Kathryn Janeway.
Pleased to meet you.
That’s it, I’m cracking up.
I shake my head in hopes of clearing it somewhat, failing miserably I do the only thing I can think of.
I turn to face her.
"Seven?" I say, ashamed of the tremors in my voice.
"Yes Captain," she cups my face gently in her palm. "It would appear that you have figured me out."
END