Standard Year 2253
With thanks to Elvis, C.J. Cregg, and "The Jackal"
Standard Year 2253
With thanks to Elvis, C.J. Cregg, and "The Jackal"
There were several members of the crew of the U.S.S. Lincoln who had served with Captain Jim Kirk's new Yeoman, Calaya Wheal. Commander Uhura found this out while setting up the Communications' grapevine. And from the stories she was collecting, the pretty, young Indiian was going to take some getting used to, particularly for those whose experience with the race consisted solely of Jilla Majiir. Even Uhura had to admit it was a little disconcerting. One's first impressions of any race of people tended to be formed by the first person of that race one encountered - even when one knew full well that most Indiians weren't a) married, b) widowed and c) Vulcanized. According to everyone who knew her, Miss Wheal was as bright, flirtatious and promiscuous as every study done or story told about Indiians predicted. While she had the same quality of delicate beauty as the Chief Engineer of the D'Artagnan, there was little of Jilla's reserve or demure manner about her. In fact, it seemed that, apart from strictly racial characteristics - silver skin, burgundy hair, emotional sensitivity, and the sexual dimorphism that gave Indiian females a short, voluptuous stature - there was only one thing the two women had in common: They both sang. And there was one particular story regarding that that Uhura couldn't wait to see first hand.
As it turned out, she didn't have to wait very long.
Uhura was on her way to the mess for dinner when she passed a small group of crewmen.
"She's gonna do it? Now?" one of the young men was saying excitedly.
"That's what Germici said," another of the men returned.
"Come on, we've gotta get a good vantage point!" the third exhorted the others.
"Gentlemen," Uhura said, stopping them in their tracks, "Who's going to do what now?"
The one with the excited eyes - Ensign Wegner, she identified - smiled broadly. "We heard that Calaya's doing Black Velvet in Rec Room B."
"And just what does 'doing black velvet' entail, Mr. Wegner?" the First Officer asked.
"It's an experience, ma'am," the third crewman returned. "We really couldn't describe it."
"Not and do it justice," grinned Lieutenant Fauche.
"Ma'am, can we go?" Wegner pleaded. "We really don't want to miss the beginning."
Uhura carefully considered all she'd heard about Yeoman Wheal, and nodded to the crewman, who raced off at warp speed.
And speaking of warp... she thought, then turned to the comm unit. There were a few other people - and one in particular - who she thought might just want to experience Calaya Wheal 'doing black velvet.'
"She's going to do what?" Jim Kirk said into the comm as his new wife and Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Jade Han, came up behind him.
"Ensign Wegner referred to it as 'doing black velvet,' Jim," Uhura answered. "I figured it was something you'd want to know about your yeoman."
Jim turned to Jade. "Black velvet isn't some new Haven drug, is it?"
"If it is, it's not one that's made it to the medical journals yet," Jade replied dryly.
"Rec Room B, and it's happening now," Uhura said. "I'll meet you there?"
The captain grinned. "I don't think I can afford to miss it," he said. "Thanks, Uhura. Kirk out."
He rose from his desk. "Come on, sweetheart," he said to Jade. "And bring your medical tricorder just in case."
Jade arched an eyebrow, but nodded.
Commander Noel DelMonde had a headache. He always did at the end of his shift, but he'd gotten used to, in a very short time, having Calaya's sweet gentle tia soothe it away within moments of reaching his cabin. They weren't living together - after all, they'd only known each other for a few weeks - but they ended up spending every night together nonetheless; sometimes in her cabin, sometimes in his. That she hadn't shown up at his door yet was making him more than surly. Even when she'd had something she had to finish up for the captain, she'd always come to tell him - and just that brief interaction had always taken the edge off the pain in his head.
That what I get fo' lettin' her hover over me like some damn guardian angel, he muttered to himself, and went to take a drink from his ever-present bottle of bourbon. He sat on his bed and opened the drawer in the bulkhead behind it, reaching for his bottle of sapphire when the comm signaled.
Maybe that her, he thought, almost embarrassingly hopeful, then scowled at himself and answered it.
"DelMonde," he said, and Commander Uhura's face appeared on the small screen.
"Del, there's something you're going to want to see in Rec Room B," her lovely voice stated. "On the double, or you'll miss it."
"Shee-it, not now, 'Hura," he growled. "I got me one hell of a..."
"Just get down here, or I'll make it an order," the First Officer said, but she was smiling slyly, and she winked at him before closing the link.
Shee-it, he repeated to himself. He quickly washed down his blue salvation with another swallow of alcohol, and, grumbling, left his cabin.
The music coming from the Rec Room was bluesy and sexy, with a hard downbeat. Del paused outside, appreciating the sound, and wondering who the musicians were on the Lincoln. Then he realized that it must have been a recording, because there was no emotion present - at least not from the players. There was plenty in the room - excited, anticipatory, lustful. He was being pulled into it, but still had enough presence of mind to sense the approach of the captain and Dr. Han.
"Good evening, Mr. DelMonde," Jim Kirk said. "I see you got Uhura's alert too."
"It was about Miss Wheal," Jade commented, and Del's eyes flashed to her.
"'Hura not say not'ing 'bout Calaya," he replied.
"She didn't?" Jade returned, and her dark eyes started sparkling. "However did she get you down here?"
Del declined to answer, and stepped back to let the captain and doctor enter the room before him. There was quite a crowd in the small room, forming a circle around the center, from which the tables had all been cleared. There was a sound system on one of them, and the music was pouring out of its speakers. He let the sapphire begin to shut down all the heady emotion, then his attention was caught by a musical sound that wasn't emanating from the speakers. A sensual hum, a melodic contrast to the bass and drums and guitar. His heart rate picked up and he pushed his way through the throng of uniforms.
Standing in the middle of the empty space was Calaya, her petite body in a sleevless near-dress of black velvet. The front was open nearly to her navel, her sides bare except for small straps of material that kept the cloth on her body just below her armpits, at her hips, and at the hem. She was swaying to the music, the sound rippling over and through her like it was a part of her. She began to sing, her figure undulating to the sensual beat.
Click here to hear the song
Her fingers made lazy circles, imitating the rotation of an old-style phonograph.
She raised her arms above her head and to one side, clearly holding the child she sang about, moving like sultry joy incarnate.
She shaded her eyes, looking at a far-off imaginary horizon.
Del closed his eyes, memories clearly coming to him - his mother, carrying him, dancing to the hot sultry blues that were a part of his heritage
Calaya dipped down, a reverent movement Del had never seen any nun make look so hot.
Calaya began moving around the perimeter of the crowd, her smile as slow and sexy as the music and her voice. Her dancing wasn't anything as deliberate as classical Arabian belly-dancing, but it had that same fluidity and that same hedonistic effect. The temperature in the room jumped a few degrees, and several of the spectators shouted their approval with guttural, enthusiastic "Yeah!" and "You go, girl!"
The Indiian made a motion of fanning herself.
The words were emphasized with an unbelievably sexual rotation of hips, with a sharp bump as punctuation.
The imitation of a certain, well-known popular cultural phenomenon from the mid-twentieth century was perfect and easily recognizable to Del, and with the strength of his reaction to Calaya's dance and voice, soon even to those who weren't familiar with twentieth century Terran music. Del could hear Jade Han taking notes in her head.
Sounds of "Give us that sin, honey!" and "Sweet, Jesus, yeah!" echoed in Del's brain.
Wanting, longing, more, more, more...
Del could barely breathe. The sapphire he'd taken had melted away under the desire Calaya was evoking, yet the sounds and emotions of the room didn't come crashing down on him like they usually did. All he was was enveloped in her voice and her eyes, her tempting smile and her writhing body. Her skin glistened, her short hair shifted around her face as she moved. It was mesmerizing, enthralling, and everyone in the room felt it, was drawn in by it. Her emotion called to them all, taunting and teasing, beckoning with a promise so sweet and sharp it could cut you to ribbons and made you beg for more.
She executed a slow, sensual turn and Del's loins ached. Then she saw him, her gray eyes widening with both shock and delight. She moved to stand directly in front of him, undulating now only for him. The words she sang, too, became only for him, and in a dark, wondrous way, about him.
He could hear her reprising the first verse in her head, and his smile became as slow and lazy as hers was.
And the beginning of the second verse:
She pronounced the name of his hometown as he did and it fit the meter of the melody perfectly. She danced, she sang, solely for him, all her emotion fixed on him despite the crowd and the reactions around him, despite the fact that, as he now knew from inside her mind, this was a performance she gave regularly, one she was famous for, one that no one who'd ever seen it wanted to miss.
Black Velvet and that little boy's smile
Black velvet, if you please sir, she whispered to him. Then she moved away, her body writhing and undulating, turning in slow, sexy circles before the crowd, her head whipping around on her slender neck like a lazy top. As the music wound down, those in the room whooped and hollered their appreciation, and she soaked it up, and sent her heady reaction to Del, making him hungrier with each passing second. When she executed a final, graceful spin that ended in a deep bow, the crowd roared with approval, applauding wildly. Del was barely aware that Uhura had sidled up to him, murmuring, "I told you you wouldn't want to miss it, sugar." He didn't notice that Jim Kirk's face was pink, though the captain was smiling broadly. He paid no attention to the welling lust in Jade Han's riveted stare. He moved straight to Calaya, interrupting the praise she was receiving from the crowd that was now surging toward her. He grabbed her, pulling her to him. She melted against him, her heart pounding against him, and he dragged her to his cabin amid the protests and resigned disappointment of those around her.
Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell
Jimmy Rogers on the Victrola up highMama's dancin' with baby on her shoulder
The sun is settin' like molasses in the sky
The boy could sing, knew how to move, everything
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing forBlack Velvet and that little boy's smile
Black Velvet with that slow southern style
A new religion that'll bring ya to your kneesBlack Velvet if you please
Up in Memphis the music's like a heatwave
White lightnin', bound to drive you wild
Mama's baby's in the heart of every school girl
"Love me tender" leaves 'em cryin' in the aisleThe way he moved, it was a sin, so sweet and true
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for
Black Velvet and that little boy's smile
Black Velvet in that slow southern style
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees
Black Velvet if you pleaseEvery word of every song that he sang was for you
In a flash he was gone, it happened so soon
What could you do?
Louisiana, the air beggin' for a rainstorm
Bo Diddly on the Victrola up high
Down in New Orleans the music's like a heatwave
White lightnin', bound to drive you wild
Black Velvet and that little boy's smile
Black Velvet and that slow southern style
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees
Black Velvet if you please
Black Velvet and that slow southern style
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees
Black Velvet... if you please
After hours of lovemaking - and a repeat command performance - naked - and a long, hot shower in which there was more lovemaking, Del and Calaya settled on his bed and fell into an exhausted slumber - and all their dreams were on a background of black velvet.
To go to the next story in chronological sequence, click here