Return to Valjiir Stories
Return to Valjiir Continum
Go To Part Two
The Enterprise crew was due for some well-earned leave. No one, not even the Admiralty, counted the recent stint on Starbase 11, since that was primarily a Public Relations event. The crew was overjoyed and Lieutenant Commander Ruth Valley and Commander Sulu, the Chief of Sciences and First Officer, were grinning as they approached the Captain. Spock, seated in the con on the Bridge, raised an eyebrow at their shared expression.
“It’s nearly unanimous, Captain,” Ruth said.
“An informal survey is ninety-five percent in agreement,” Sulu added. “The crew wants to take leave on Lorelei.”
“And it’s hardly out of our way at all,” Ruth continued. “Less than half a day at Warp Six.”
“At Warp Six,” was the Vulcan’s only comment.
“That is under emergency speed, sir,” Sulu put in.
Spock swiveled the con to Communications. “Miss Uhura, please contact the Lorelei Port Authority and see if they can accommodate a starship’s crew at this time…”
“They’re gonna say no to paying customers?” Ruth broke in.
“… as is procedure, then make the request of Admiral Bradigan.”
“And if he says no the crew will mutiny,” Sulu chuckled.
Uhura grinned. “Yes, sir,” she said to Spock, and added a private call to the list. She had just seen Tomor Rand, and they’d had no time to spend privately. If she was going to have leave on Lorelei, he’d damn well better make the time to meet her there.
“Lorelei,” Lieutenant Commander Pavel Chekov muttered. Lieutenant Commander Daphne Gollub looked up at him from across the rec room table.
“And what’s wrong with Lorelei?” she accused sharply.
Pavel’s head jerked up. “Nothing, nothing,” he said quickly. Her eyebrow arched at him and he sighed. “It’s just that it’s – well, frivolous.”
“And you would prefer to take leave on some nice, boring research station?” Daffy countered.
“Well…”
“Oy geveult, Pavel, are you completely insane? Or is there something your oh-so-correct brain finds distressing about spending a week in a nice, luxurious hotel suite with me?”
“It isn’t that,” the Russian protested. “It’s just that – well, there’s a lot of gambling and… other vices…”
“Yeah, drinking, screwing, relaxing in an actual bathtub… who’d want that?”
Pavel gave her a weak grin. “No, I think that part will be most pleasant, but…”
“You don’t want me going to the casinos,” Daffy stated, folding her arms.
“They are a waste of time and credits,” Pavel said under his breath.
Daffy reached over, smacking the back of his head. “Only if you lose,” she told him. “It’s fun. It’s exciting. It’s a challenge.”
“You are more than enough challenge for me, Dafshka,” he returned, ducking the second blow. He knew it would only annoy her more, but he couldn’t very well let her abuse him without a fight.
She showed him her teeth. “That’s only gonna make it worse for you, you know,” she said.
He grinned back. “I know,” he said, and didn’t avoid the third smack.
“Well, we’re going to Lorelei whether you like it or not,” she said firmly. “AND I’m going to the casino whether you like it or not. And if you sulk, the sex fairy is going to take a long vacation.”
“While we’re on Lorelei? I don’t think the planetary regulations allow that.”
Daffy’s face twisted. “Don’t be so sure, bubee.”
With the drinking and the real bathtub, Pavel somehow doubted it.
“Hon, we’re going to Lorelei!” Sulu called excitedly as he entered his cabin. Jilla Majiir looked up from her desk.
“Is it pleasant there?” she asked.
Sulu crossed the small room, smiling down at his wife. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Lorelei.”
Her silver skin shimmered softly. “I have heard the name, but…”
“It’s a paradise,” the First Officer replied with a sigh of longing. “First class luxury hotels, the finest restaurants, lavish shows and the best casinos in the galaxy.”
“Gambling?” Jilla replied, her full lips curving into a small frown.
Sulu gave her a quick kiss. “Don’t worry, hon, I won’t risk more than I can afford to lose.” He stepped away from her, pulling his gold tunic over his head. “Don’t work too much overtime, Jilla. You’ll need your rest. Once we’re on leave, I plan to completely exhaust you.”
She flushed and he moved to the door to the shower.
Ruth was humming an old Valley Collection tune as she brushed out the long gold strands of her hair. It’s good to have you back, she told them. It had taken her a while to convince her hair to grow back after it was hacked off by that damned Klingon monster and she was more than pleased to again have its weighty comfort.
Despite your eternal complaints about it getting caught in turbolift doors? came the mildly teasing, always welcome voice of her husband in her head. Ruth turned from the mirror, smiling at Spock.
Yes, despite that, she returned, and quickly crossed to him, giving him a warm hug and an even warmer kiss.
“Our ETA at Lorelei has been confirmed for 0800 tomorrow morning,” the Vulcan said.
“Hot damn!”
“While I have no objections to spending leisure time with you, my wife, why are you so enthused about Lorelei?” Spock asked. “Antaris cannot visit the casinos there, and your gustatory requirements are not those that the local establishments would particularly cater to…”
“I’m not going planetside,” Ruth interrupted with an impish grin. “Neither are you.”
Spock’s eyebrow rose. “Indeed? Then why…”
“Because everyone else will be going planetside. Lorelei nearly guarantees it.” She looked up at him, her large purple eyes sparkling. “Which leaves you and me and your beautiful ship all alone and quiet and empty of distractions.” She planted a quick kiss on his lips. “Which is perfect – “ She gave another kiss. “ – for you and me – “ And another. “ – to get intimately – “ A fourth. “ – reacquainted.”
Spock hid his smile behind a curt nod. “Most efficient of you, my wife.”
She grinned. “I was hoping you’d think that.”
“And did you have any part in drumming up the nearly unanimous insistence on spending this leave on Lorelei?”
She fluttered her eyelashes. “Why, whatever would make you ask a thing like that? All I did was mention the possibility to a few people… Monique, and Daffy and of course, Roy…”
“Of course,” Spock returned dryly.
“And they did the rest.”
“A commendable use of both resources and delegating skill.”
“I love it when you talk that way.’
“I trust I will not be expected to keep you in a perpetual state of arousal by the use of my normal speech patterns alone, my wife.”
“Oh now, husband,” Ruth breathed. “There’ll be lots of states of satisfaction interspersed with my arousal at your normal speech patterns.”
“Ah, then, that is quite acceptable.”
Ruth grinned again, her fingers pulling at Spock’s tunic. “Come on, let’s get a jump on them,” she murmured.
As her hair began to curl around him of its own volition, Spock reflected that he, too, was glad to have it back.
“Beauty! Problems with the Iotians already?” Lane Gage, proprietor of the HTE Leather and Dealer Extraordinaire said to the smiling face of Lieutenant Commander Uhura.
“Not that I know of,” the dark-skinned woman replied. “We’ve got leave on Lorelei, starting tomorrow morning, and I wanted to make sure you could spare Tomor for a week.”
Gage glanced at the figure of his Security Chief, who was lounging against the door frame of his office, his smile wide around his ever-present cigar of Rigellian. “Well, what’s in the deal for me?” he chuckled.
“Not having your knuckles broken?” Rand rumbled.
Gage made a fair show of considering the not-entirely joking threat. He turned his hand over, inspecting his fingers. “I do tend to find them useful,” he finally conceded. “Done, Miss Uhura. I’ll deliver him by mid-morning.”
“Gage, I could kiss you,” Uhura beamed.
“No, I don’t think so, my dear,” Gage demurred with another chuckle.
“’Cause then I’d have to break his lips,” Tomor put in. “Can’t wait, Beauty.”
“Neither can I, tall, dark and Haven,” Uhura returned. “Enterprise out.”
Gage blanked the screen, then turned to Rand. “That one’s definitely preferred option, my friend,” he said.
Rand grinned. “Should I say hi to Kam for you?”
Gage frowned. “Should I dock your pay for this unplanned vacation?”
“Just teasing, Boss.”
“Save it for Beauty, Tomor.”
“Come on, come on! Can’t you transport any faster than that?”
Montgomery Scott smiled benignly at the impatient Chief of Sciences. “Now, lass, there’s only so many pads, and proper check-in on Lorelei takes a wee bit o‘ time.”
“Couldn’t you use the cargo transporters?”
The Chief Engineer chuckled. “I don’t think the Captain’s goin’ anywhere, Ruth.”
“And I think I might just hang around and catch up on paperwork,” Leonard McCoy drawled as he sauntered into the transporter room. Ruth turned on him, punching him on the arm.
“Don’t even think about it!” she snarled.
McCoy grinned and Scotty shook his head. “Don’t be teasin’ the lass, Leonard,” he advised.
“Who’s teasing Ruth?” Sulu asked as he and Jilla arrived in the already crowded room. He was resplendent in tightly-fitting civilian wear, elegant and flashy without being gaudy. He’d obviously worked his charms on Jilla, for she, too, was out of uniform, in a beautiful silken sheath of an Asian design in a very flattering shade of blue.
“This womprat,” Ruth began, indicating McCoy, “is threatening to stay on the ship!”
Sulu grinned as Jilla’s eyebrows lowered in confusion. “Come on, Doc,” he said, “there’s gotta be a poker game with your name on it.”
“And with Doctor M’Benga no longer on board, ye might even win,” Scotty put in generously.
McCoy scowled. “Hmmph! I know when I’m not wanted.”
“I love you, Bones, I do,” Ruth rejoined. “but…” She shrugged, giving the doctor a half smile.
“I don’t understand,” Jilla murmured.
“Think about it, hon,” Sulu said to her. “Empty ship, lots of quiet, Ruth and the Captain – alone together…”
Jilla began blushing and Ruth’s smile brightened.
“So go on already, get off my – his ship,” she said, shooing the officers with motions of her hands.
“Better watch that ‘my ship’ stuff, Ruthie,” McCoy admonished, wagging his finger at her. “Captain Bastard just might make an encore…”
“Shut up,” Ruth growled amiably.
Scotty chuckled again and Sulu shook his head.
Hours later, Ruth worked the transporter to send Scotty down to begin his leave, then sighed. Mine, she murmured happily. All mine.
Daphne Gollub stood in the lobby of the Capei’ella Hotel with her arms spread and her head tilted back. “Mmmmm…” She said, inhaling with blissful satisfaction. “Can you smell that?
“Yes.” Pavel Chekov glanced back at the desk clerk with a disapproving shake of his head. “That brand of pheromone cologne really should be banned…”
“No, you nudnik.” His girlfriend punched him on the arm. “The ambiance -- Breathe it in. Breathe it in.”
The navigator sniffed at what seemed to be nothing more than standard filtered air as he watched the porter load their bags into the small transport unit that would deliver them to their room. “What am I supposed to be smelling?”
“Decadence, my dear.” Gollub closed her eyes and smiled. “The pure, sweet smell of decadence.”
“Decadence, by definition,” he informed her, “is not sweet or pure.”
She put her hands on her hips and gave him a narrow look. “And what do you know about decadence?”
The Russian folded his arms and let his gaze travel over her outlandish costume with consisted primarily of a very short skirt and far too few scraps of garishly colored metallic fabric. “I know it when I see it.”
Gollub grinned and gave him a very suggestive bump with her hip. “You bet your sweet Russian ass you do.”
Blushing despite himself, he took her arm and escorted her to the ‘lift that would take them up to their suite. The car was made of transparent material that allowed guests a panoramic view of the port city as they traveled up the side of the tall building.
“I don’t understand what you have against gambling,” Daffy groused. “It’s all math. You like math.”
“Yes, and the mathematics of casino gambling go to prove the old Russian saying…”
When he didn’t bother to finish, she prompted, “And since I am neither old nor Russian, that saying would be...?”
Chekov replied in that language, then translated. “The House always wins.”
“I thought that was an old Haven saying.”
“Yes,” he informed her seriously. “They purchased it from us.”
“Better not let them catch you using it then.” As they rose above the treeline, the chemist pointed at the candy-colored array of building facades nearby. “Oh, look! We’ve got to go there – they’ve got a great floorshow. And there… And to the Venusian, of course…I read a great restaurant review of that place…And we should try to hit the Centauri Bar… The Boli Towers are a must….I told Sakura I’d try to meet her at the Kamara… And later tonight most of the Science crowd will be at the Zocalo…”
“I thought this leave was for rest and relaxation,” the navigator grumbled under his breath.
His girlfriend showed him her fist. “If you don’t relax, bubee, you’re gonna find your self resting in a sickbay.” After a moment, though, she gave him a playfully scolding punch on the arm. “What’s the matter with you, anyway? Don’t Russians like fun?”
“Like it?” he replied with a shrug. “We invented it.”
“Then sold it to the Havens and can’t use it any more,” Gollub theorized.
Chekov smiled, then put his arms around her as what seemed to him to be a very fun idea formed in his brain. “It is rather hot here,” he began slowly, “Don’t you agree?”
“Eskimo,” she scolded, turning back around so she could look at the scenery. “You’d be hot in an ice cube.”
The navigator nuzzled the back of her neck. “And rather dusty…”
“Here?” She snorted. “Are you kidding? They have polishing robots for the sole purpose of polishing the other polishing robots.”
“Nonetheless,” he continued letting his breath tickle the back of her ear, “I do feel rather…dirty.”
“Oh, do you?” the chemist replied unsympathetically. “Maybe I should have them send up a polishing robot for you.”
“Ah, but I am not made of metal.” He ran a teasing finger down her mesh-covered shoulder.
“Coulda fooled me,” the chemist replied with a grin, noticing something that was beginning to be very… solid pressing against her.
“I read once,” the navigator began with an air of innocence, “that baths are very good for people who feel…. hot and … dirty.”
“What a remarkable coincidence that we just happen to have one of those in our hotel room.”
“Oh, do we?”
“You don’t remember me telling you so?”
“Did you?” Chekov lifted her hair so he could kiss the back of her neck “That is quite a coincidence… “
She turned and scowled at him. “We can’t stay in the hotel room the whole time…”
“Of course not,” he agreed readily, giving her frown a light kiss. “It just seems that you are also rather…”
“Hot?” Gollub guessed with a smile.
“Mmmm…” He put his arms around her waist and pulled him close to her. “And quite…”
The chemist grinned and ground her hips against his. “Dirty?”
“Mmmmm…Very.”
“If you think I’m going to spend my whole time on Lorelei in a bathtub…” she warned.
“As you say, I don’t know about such things,” he conceded, turning her to face him. “However, it seems to me that to spend 72 hours in a luxury hotel in some very warm water...” He paused to kiss her lips. “With some very cold vodka….” They paused for a second more lingering embrace. “And a very …mmmm…eager companion…” He claimed her lips again. “Would be the very, very, very purest and sweetest…”
Gollub smiled as she melted happily into his arms. “…Decadence.”
Jilla was awed by the incredible luxury of the room Sulu had rented for them. It was mostly circular in shape, the curved outer walls all panoramic windows. He had seemed slightly perturbed when the desk informed them that they’d been given the penthouse suite – he didn’t like the associations – but the hotel clerk had apologetically told him that due to the influx of Starfleet personnel, the rest of the hotel was booked. “And you did ask for the best accommodations, Commander,” the desk clerk had added with a particularly inviting smile. Sulu had shrugged, and once actually in the rooms was grinning at the feel of them.
“It’s almost like we’re flying,” he told Jilla, giving her a warm hug. She had to admit, the view did give the illusion of being suspended high above the port city, for the Capei’ella Hotel was the tallest building in it.
Sulu lavishly tipped the bellboy who brought their luggage, then inspected the room’s wet bar and small refrigeration unit while Jilla unpacked. Finally he flopped down on the huge circular bed that dominated the western portion of the lavish room.
“Ahhh,” he sighed in satisfaction. “Hon, you’ve gotta feel this mattress! It’s like lying on a cloud.”
“Moist and insubstantial?” Jilla asked as she turned from the closet. Her voice was calm but there was a sparkle of amusement deep in her grey eyes.
Sulu got up on his elbows, grinning at her. “So you’re gonna be like that, are you?” he teased.
“I am going to be like what?” she returned crossing to him.
“A womprat,” he said, and sat up fully, grasping her arm and pulling her onto the bed with him.
After several long kisses, Jilla finally murmured, “I have never understood Ruth’s usage of that term. I have asked the library computer aboard ship and the only references to a ‘womprat’ are fictional.”
Sulu nuzzled her ear. “That’s because it’s a fictional animal, a sneaking, conniving, short-lived beast, according to Ruth – with the emphasis on short-lived.”
“You wish me to have a short life, then?” the Indiian asked, with a sudden shudder.
“No, hon, no, of course not!” he quickly affirmed. “It’s a joke. Ruth uses it when she’s annoyed at someone…”
“And you were annoyed with me?”
“Baby, it was a joke…” He pulled away from her, his fingers smoothing the soft up-do of her thick burgundy hair. “I’m sorry, Jilla. I was teasing because you made a joke about the mattress.”
She flushed. “Forgive me, I was only trying to…”
“It was cute,” he said reassuringly. “It was adorable. You’re adorable. In fact,” he smiled at her. “It was so adorable that I forgot you probably wouldn’t understand my attempt at continuing the mood.” His grin softened. “I was only teasing, hon. I want you to be around a good long time – at least a couple of hundred centuries or so – and there’s absolutely nothing either sneaky or conniving about you.” He again pulled her close, his lips moving through her hair. “You’re honest and straightforward and I love you more than life.”
“Celletyea,” she murmured.
“Cortayel,” he responded automatically, and renewed his kisses.
It soothed her, but the chill that had taken her remained.
Uhura waited impatiently at the Port’s official beam-down station. She was dressed to kill in leather and dark, Tomor Rand’s favorite cloth and color. Not that I expect to be wearing it for long, she mused sensually. She heard the tonal noise from the communications, translating it from long years of practice and stepped forward eagerly. Her handsome Haven materialized, wearing a very elegant suit of, of course, dark leather and she smiled at him. He grinned back, removing the cigar from his mouth and stepped off the platform, taking her into his arms.
“Ah, Beauty,” he growled. She kissed him, then took his arm in hers.
“I got us a room at the Capei’ella,” she told him.
“Nice place,” he grunted.
“Expensive place,” she agreed.
“Which is no concern of yours.”
She grinned up at him. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“I’ve heard a gentleman doesn’t let a lady pay in Federation culture,” he grinned back.
“Oh, I do hope you’re not planning on being a gentleman this whole leave,” she returned.
His eyebrows rose. “You want to spend your own assets?” he asked.
She chuckled throatily. “That’s not even close to what I meant, Tomor.”
He gave her a teasing leer. “I was hoping you’d say that, Beauty.”
She took a glance back at the transporter. “You didn’t bring any luggage?”
“Do I need anything else?” he said, gesturing to his own body.
“We are going to be here a week,” she reminded.
“And this is good enough for any restaurant or casino. Which we ain’t gonna be spending a hell of a lot of time in anyway.”
“So very true,” Uhura agreed breathily. “Come on, sugar, there’s a tub waiting with our names on it.”
“Praise be to Devri,” the Haven chuckled.
Spock was meditating, lying clad only in his pants and the dark thermal shirt on the bed in their cabin. Ruth watched him for a while, a soft smile on her face. Then she quietly stripped off her uniform and climbed on top of him, kneeling up over his hips.
Everyone’s gone, she whispered, and the auto-pilot is all set for continuous orbit. Then she waited while he roused himself, her hands on his chest, feeling the familiar drumroll quicken its pace from the slowing of the meditative state. When his eyes opened, she leaned down and kissed him. His arms came around her, his hands warm against her naked flesh. She felt him responding under her hips, and grinned.
You all fortified for the demands of the next week? she murmured lasciviously.
Did you stock the replicator with enough steak? he returned.
And lots of plomeek soup. And I adjusted the temperature in here to a nice, balmy 90. And you’re way overdressed.
Allow me to remedy that, my wife.
Allow me, my husband.
She felt his smile beneath her lips and pulled slowly away, sitting back up over him. Her hands slid beneath the hem of the thermal shirt, pushing it sensually up over his stomach and chest. She gathered the material in her hands, pulling it quickly over his head and he pushed himself up slightly so that she could draw it off his shoulders and arms. She sighed in appreciation of the expanse of jade skin, kissing his chest and skimming her fingers through the thick, black hair. Then she scooted her body down along his legs and hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants, finding and opening the seam. She peeled the cloth down and off his legs, planting a teasing kiss on each thigh, and when she moved upwards again, she gave a teasing lap of her tongue along his hardening organ.
He was flushing when she again settled herself on top of him. “You are a vixen, my wife,” he murmured.
“Don’t I know it,” she grinned. He reached up, pulling her upper body down to him, kissing her thoroughly.
There was no need for you to empty the ship for this, he told her silently.
And have us interrupted every five minutes with some snafu in the Sciences labs, or some petty emergency on the Bridge? Not on your life. If leave was anywhere else, somebody would’ve decided to work through it.
And I take it I am included in that ‘somebody?’
Hey, I call ‘em like I see ‘em.
I assure you, Dei’larr’ei, you were quite wrong. He lifted her slightly, allowing her body to enfold him in a gentle impalement.
“Mmmmm, hot damn,” she whispered softly.
I love you, Ruth.
And I, my husband, love you.
Pavel Chekov’s eyelids fluttered open at the sound of a boot dropping to the floor near him. “Daphne?” he asked, reaching across the bed for her.
“Damn,” his girlfriend muttered, kneeling down to retrieve her footwear. “I was trying not to wake you up.”
He yawned and propped himself up on his elbows. “Why?
“Because you’re cute when you’re asleep,” she replied, grinning at the expanse of his bare flesh that the sheets carelessly wound around him did not cover. “And you argue less.”
“You are going to the casino,” he guessed, frowning at the expanse of her bare flesh that her dress artfully did not cover.
“Yes.” She reached over to the bed table for one of her earrings before warning, “And without having to sit through an “Evils of Gambling” lecture from you, thank you very much.”
“I wouldn’t presume,” the Russian replied diffidently as she sat down on the edge of the bed to put on her boots. “You may do as you please. You are an adult.”
She chuckled evilly. “After what you did to me in the bathtub, you better hope I’m an adult, bubee.”
“Mmmmm.” He smiled in pleasant remembrance. Gollub couldn’t resist bending to the side to kiss him, but then immediately went back to putting on her boots.
The navigator sighed.
“But…” she began for him.
“It just seems so wasteful,” he couldn’t resist saying as he crushed his pillow into a more comfortable shape to lay on. “For the price of the money you are willing to lose, you could go to six or seven of those singing and dancing shows you enjoy so much.”
“Oh?” Gollub paused and lifted a dubious eyebrow. “And would you rather go to six or seven “singing and dancing” shows with me instead?”
“Well…” the navigator backpedaled hastily.
“I thought as much.” The chemist reached past him to retrieve another earring from the bed table.
Chekov frowned and held his tongue as he watched her carefully apply a coat of florescent pink gloss to her lips.
“Statistically, you are more likely to lose less money if you play only Blackjack, Andorian Pyramids, and Pritzi,” he finally couldn’t stop himself from warning her. “That is – if you play intelligently and bet conservatively.”
She rolled her eyes. “And if I want to play foolishly, bet liberally and win money?”
“Then you should have stayed on the Enterprise and played cards with Geoff Redford.”
The shy engineer was notorious for having the very worst poker-playing “tells” on board. He blushed uncontrollably when he had good cards and always bit his thumb when he was bluffing.
Gollub gave him a narrow look as reward for this undeniably accurate answer and pinched an exposed portion of his upper thigh.
“Ow!” he protested.
“Any more advice?” she asked unreceptively.
“No,” he said, sulking a little he adjusted the covers around him. After a few moments though, he had to add, “But you should remember that the free cocktails offered are designed by the management to impair your judgment...”
“Sometimes I like having my judgment impaired,” she retorted, touching up her eye makeup. “God, for an atheist, you sure can be an ass-aching puritan sometimes.”
“Why are you talking about religion?”
“Because you seem to have some sort of moral objection to my having a good time.”
“Not at all.” He rolled over onto his back and stared discontentedly at the ceiling, which was painted to look like the midday sky on Lorelei in some non-existent pastoral setting with their hotel dominating the nearby skyline. “However there is something about this place… The scale of it… An entire planet devoted to….”
Gollub smiled down at him. “Decadence?”
“I was going to say purposeful over-stimulation to induce reckless overindulgence.”
“You hang around with Spock too much,” she chided, shaking her head.
“It seems unethical…” Chekov frowned at the representation above him of a species of fowl that he knew could not exist in this hemisphere. “… And dangerous.”
Gollub showed him her teeth in a sharp smile. “I like dangerous.”
Chekov frowned and rose up onto his elbows again. “I should go with you.”
The chemist pushed him firmly back down to the mattress. “I prefer to be un-chaperoned, thank you.”
“You will scoff at my saying so, but there are individuals who frequent places like this who…”
Daffy grinned and ran a teasing finger down his bare chest. “Who would try to lure a girl up to their hotel room and then do unspeakable things to her in the bathtub?”
Chekov couldn’t resist returning her smile. “And will do them again if she likes…” he suggested putting her arms around her waist and pulling her down into a hungry kiss.
“Oh, no.” She said, firmly disentangling herself. “You’re not seducing me out of this again.” She rose and picked up a small matching purse from the bed table. “Rest, relax, then dress and go have a drink. I’ll come find you in a few hours.”
“And if I should want to find you?” he asked, making what Gollub often referred to as his “sad puppy face” in a last ditch effort at being too irresistible to abandon.
“That’ll be easy, bubee,” she replied, clicking a couple of credit chips together as she headed for the door. “I’ll be the lucky lady with all the lovely money.”