Four Bawdy Little Tales

Four Bawdy Little Tales
by VoyWriter

disclaimer: Paramount holds all rights to name and characters.
Please feel free to distribute this electronically intact and without revision.
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1. Bachelor Party

B’Elanna Torres flopped down on the couch in Kathryn Janeway’s quarters, a mug
of spiked coffee in hand. Janeway had opted for tea, but with a liberal dose of
brandy.

They were both officially off duty and this was as close as they would come to a
bachelor party for B’Elanna who was to be married to Tom Paris the following
day.

“Tom has a nice ass,” B’Elanna announced, tkaing a swallow of her coffee. it was
her second or third cup – she’d given up counting.

“B’Elanna,” Janeway admonished.

“Well, he does,” she said defensively. Then her dark eyes twinkled mischeviously.
“So does Chakotay.”

“B’Elanna!” Janeway forced a straight face.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never looked,” B’Elanna insisted.

Looked. Hell, she’d damn well devored it! She calmly took a sip of her tea and the
protested,

“B’Elanna!”

“Are you alive, Kathryn?” B’Elanna asked impatiently. “Have you seen him at the
swim meets?”

Janeway nearly groaned outloud. Tight stomach. Strong broad shoulders. Nice
Ass. Great ass. Swim trunks that barely covered impressive equipment.

“I usually watch that swimming at the meets, B’Elanna,” Janeway reproached her
primly.

B’elana snorted and changed tacts – “Have you ever had sex in a turbolift?” she
asked.

Turbolift. Holodeck. Shuttle bay. Janeway shifted, crossing her legs. God this was
torture. When B’Elanna had insisted on a girl’s night out and sent Paris to
Sandrine’s with Chakotay, Janeway should have protested. It was obviously Ohelp
poor repressed Kathryn night.’ Only problem was, Kathryn was not repressed. Not
in the least. And all this was doing was to stimulate an already overactive libido.

“I can see what’s on your mind,” Janeway told B’Elanna.

“Or the Jeffries tube?” B’Elanna continued. “Take a blanket in there, though,” she
advised,” damned metal is cold.”

Jeffries tube, indeed, Janeway thought snappishly. Hell, that was downright
pedestrian compared to her ready room with a full crew complement waiting on
the bridge.

***

“Ever want to pull the pins out of the Captain’s hair and just run your fingers
through it?” Tom asked Chakotay as he waited for the other man to take his turn
at the pool table.

Chakotay gripped the cue stick to keep from scratching. Pull the pins? hell, how
about damned near rip them out?!

“I don’t really think that’s an appropriate topic, Tom,” Chakotay advised.

“Let that silken mass drape over you,” Tom continued dreamily.

Just the hair? Chakotay almost snorted. Tom needed to think bigger. Add the
woman to that and there was the image.

“I thought you were getting married tomorrow?” he reminded Paris.

“Getting married, not dying pal,” Tom rejoined. “And maybe it’s time for someone
else to make a move now that I’ve started something,” he said pointedly.

Chakotay leaned against the pool table. Thank the spirits he’d changed from his
uniform into loose fitting off duty pants before the game, he thought gratefully.
As it was he was uncomfortable enough.

“Your shot,” he told Paris.

Tom shifted gears. “I just don’t know how you can sit next to her everyday on the
bridge and not want to…”

…reach over and run a hand up her thigh…” Chakotay finished silently. Tease his
fingers across the bare nape of her neck… He stifled a groan. He hadn’t realized it
was Olet’s help poor Commander Chakotay to act on his unrequited passion for
the Captain night.’ Well at least the passion part was right, Chakotay thought,
hiding his grin behind a sip of Tom’s homebrew.

“Are we playing pool here?” he asked Paris.

“Fine. Fine.” Paris stepped up to the table to take his shot. He paused. “You know
I really like that blue dress of hers,” Tom mused. “The one she wore to the
engagement party.”

Well, you won’t see that one again, Chakotay thought with a grunt of satisfaction.
All those tiny buttons that ran up the back were scattered across his quarters. He’d
found another just that morning.

“Eight ball in,” he called out, and he neatly made the shot. “Game.”

B’Elanna set her mug on the counter and took Tom’s outstretched hand, winking
at Janeway. “Remember what we talked about,” she whispered to Janeway.

“See you tomorrow, B’Elanna,” Janeway said firmly. “Get some sleep.”

“You too, Tom,” Chakotay added, subtly guiding the pair out of Janeway’s
quarters. “It’s going to be a big day.”

Neither Tom nor B’Elanna noticed that when the door slid shut, Chakotay was
still inside the Janeway’s quarters instead of outside with them.

“How’d it go?” Tom asked, sliding his hand down Torre’s back.

B’Elanna shook her head. “She just can’t open up to this, Tom,” Torres sighed.
“She’s just to damned repressed. It’s really a shame.”

Paris nodded. “I know. Chakotay didn’t even blink when I tried to help him get in
the mood. I guess we’re just wasting our time.”

***

“How was the pool game?” Janeway asked Chakotay.

“I won. How was the girl talk?”

“About what you’d expect.”

“We should have brought a blanket,” he said with a shiver. “This metal’s damned
cold.”

“Why do you think I’m on top, love?” she grinned.

finis

2. Stranded

“Hold.”

Kathryn Janeway heard Chakotay’s slightly breathless baritone and she obligingly
paused the turbolift, waiting the few moments it took for him to reach the still
open door.

She raised an appreciative eyebrow as he stepped in. He was wearing nothing but
brief swim trunks – very brief trunks – a towel slung over his shoulder, soft
moccasins on his feet. He and Tom Paris had been swimming regularly and the
exercise showed in a lean rippling stomach and well muscled arms and shoulders.
She caught her breath, chastened herself, then shrugged it off. No harm in
looking, Kathryn, she thought to herself.

“Captain,” Chakotay nodded a greeting.

“Commander,” she replied a bit too stiffly. Why did this seem so damned
awkward – she was with the man everyday on the bridge – closer together than
they stood in the turbolift. She glanced over again and this time he caught her
looking. He smiled just a little to let her know she’d been caught.

“You’re going swimming.” God, she sounded like a teenager. Why not state the
obvious, Kathryn.

“Yes, I’m meeting Tom Paris. Care to join us?” Chakotay asked pleasantly.

“I’ve promised to Kes to tour her hydroponics garden.”

“She’s doing a good job with that. She has some new herbs that I found make an
excellent tea.”

“Tea. Yes.” God what kind of an idiot was she. She cleared her throat. “Thank
you, Commander. I’ll have to ask her about it.” Why was the damned lift taking so
long? She looked at the floor, the ceiling. Anywhere to avoid looking at him
again. She couldn’t help it.

There was a Starfleet insignia on his trunks. So they were regulation. No. Wait.
Dear god! That was his comm badge. On his trunks. On his god-damned
non-regulation, too small trunks. She’d heard swimmers sometimes wore their
trunks a size or too smaller to reduce resistance as much as possible. Hah! She
could resist the Borg easier, she thought at that moment. Was it getting hot in the
lift?

It lurched suddenly to a half and she found herself held in a tumble of strong
arms. Dear god! She pushed away.

“Computer – resume lift,” she ordered.

“Unable to comply. Turbo lift processor off line. Estimate 48 minutes to repair.”

48 minutes?!!

Chakotay shrugged. “Looks like we’re stuck here for a little while.”

Not if I can help it, she thought decidely. Not with you in that bathing suit less
than 2 meters away.

“Janeway to engineering.”

“Torres here.”

“What’s the problem with the turbolift?”

“We lost a processor. We’re working on it,” Torres advised. “Sorry, but it might
get a little warm, Captain. We had to shut the system off to work on it.”

Great. As if she weren’t hot enough already. Her eyes found the damned StarFleet
comm badge again. Was that placement deliberate on his part, she wondered
snappishly. Audacious bastard.

“B’Elanna’s right. It is getting warm in here,” Chakotay commented.

How the hell would you know? she growled to herself. Your’re half naked. More
than half naked. Try a uniform and turtleneck. Try boots.

“You might feel more comfortable if you-” he began to suggest.

“Yes?” She positively glared at him.

“Sit on the floor,” he suggested blandly. “It should be cooler down there.”

Right. Get a grip here, Kathryn. He was just making an innocent suggestion.
“Good idea,” she agreed, and she dropped down and sat. It was a little cooler.

After a moment he joined her, stretching out long legs next to hers, crossing them
at the ankle. She could see that the muscles in his calves and thighs were tight.

Hell, the muscles in her thighs were tight. Who was she trying to kid. Perspiration
started to bead at her brow.

“Computer – temperature in lift.”

“Current temperature is 35 degrees celcius.”

At this rate she’d smother. She wondered if she could take her turtleneck off and
still maintain any level of decorum.

At 40 degrees C she threw decorum out the window. First the boots, then the
uniform top, then the turtleneck. Figures she had to wear a black bra today. She’d
been in a hurry.

She glanced over at Chakotay. He had leaned his head back against the wall of
the turbolift, his eyes closed. Well, that was something.

He opened an eye slowly. She was busy folding her turtleneck. Her shoulders
were smooth, creamy. And the bra. Why Kathryn…. His lips tipped up in
amusement. Black. And it fastened in front. Just a single clasp. His gaze
continued down her flat stomach to where it disappeared into what she still wore
of the uniform. He dropped the towel into his lap.

When the temperature reached 50 degrees C, she discarded the rest of the
uniform, glaring at him daring him to comment or look. He wisely turned away,
but not before catching a glimse of teasing white silk around slim hips. He’d have
offered her the towel, but it was his own refuge at the moment. She half draped
the her uniform over herself instead.

“Janeway to B’Elanna,” she called.

“Just a little more time, Captain,” came B’Elanna’s apologetic reply.

More time?! More of this agony?! Dear god – sitting half dressed next to a near
perfect specimen of masculinity! Discipline. She needed discipline. She called on
all of her Starfleet training. Sweat dropped into the cleft between her breasts.
Chakotay was covered with a fine sheen. He fairly glowed. An involuntary groan
escaped her lips.

Chakotay opened his eyes, raised an eyebrow.

Tendrils of her hair had come loose in the heat, were curling around her face.

“Are you alright, Captain?”

Alright? What the hell kind of question was that?! And how about you? Acting so
cool. Just what is beneath that towel, Commander, she thought smuggly. As if we
didn’t know already.

“Fine,” she told him. “I’m fine.”

Right, he thought. Fine. If she’s fine, then are her hands curled into fists? Such
strong soft hands. Strong soft grip. He forced himself to breath evenly. In. Out.
Take in air. Expel air. Not bad.

She watched his chest rise and fall, rythmically. The muscles expand and
contract. Her nails bit into her palms. She gripped her top lip between her teeth,
pushed her knees tight together. Concentrate. Focus. Slow the respiration. Slow
the pulse. Fine.

****

B’Elanna looked over at Tom. “Well?”

He sighed and then shook his head. “It seemed like we might have been having
some luck there for a while, but…” He checked the tricorder B’Elanna had tied in
the back way to medical, linked to the comm badges of the Captain and First
Officer, measuring pulse, breathing, temperature. The readings were normal.

“Might was well put the air back in and start the damned thing up again,” Tom
sighed. “Nothing happening here.”

B’Elanna nodded and began to reset the controls. “It was worth a try.”

***

Chakotay pressed Kathryn up against the wall of the turbolift while she neatly
peeled off his swim trunks – the trunks she had insisted he wear.

“They almost had us this morning, you know,” he breathed, amused and aroused
at the same time.

“It was that damned comm badge on your trunks. You’re an arrogant bastard,
Commander.”

He laughed and snapped the opening on her bra. “Black. Nice touch, Captain.” He
pushed it off her shoulders.

Tom paced impatiently outside the turbolift. He was due for second shift duty and
was going to be late.

B’Elanna found him standing there. “Problem with the lift?” she asked.

Tom shrugged. “Just a lot of stops I guess.”

finis

3. Diagnostics

Chakotay watched Tom Paris struggle at the helm for a few minutes and then
finally decided to intervene. They were temporarily stopped in space for some
diagnostic tests B’Elanna Torres wanted to run on the engines. Tom was
supposed to be checking his station as well, but it appeared there was a glitch.

“Is there a problem Lieutenant?” Chakotay asked from where he sat in the First
Officer’s seat. The Captain’s chair was vacant. Kathryn Janeway was in her ready
room catching up on some routine reports.

Paris swiveled to face Chakotay. “I’m not sure, Commander. When I run the
diagnostic, it comes up clean, but I’m not getting the response I’m used to in the
simulation.”

“If you can’t repair it, I suggest you call up someone from engineering to take a
look at it,” was Chakotay’s reply.

“Well, I would,” Tom drawled, “but B’Elanna’s got everything locked down for
her warp core tests.” He sighed. “Maybe you could look at it, Commander,” he
realized suddenly.

Chakotay pushed out of his chair. “Show me what you’re seeing,” he told Paris,
leaning over the helmsman’s chair, one arm propped on the head rest, his hip
resting against the station.

“Well,” Tom began, “when I run this simulation,” he tabbed a few keys and
started a sequence. “Then this happens.”

Chakotay watched, frowned and then ordered. “Run it back again. You’re right. It
does seem sluggish.”

Janeway exited her ready room to see Chakotay bent over Paris’s board. Damn he
had a nice ass, she thought, keeping her “Captain on the bridge face” perfectly
intact. And she hated when he did that. Just the slight bend of the leg made the
muscles tense. Hell, it made her muscles tense. It was almost like he practiced
and then did it was on purpose.

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” she asked, crossing down to the lower level of
the bridge and taking her seat. Now the damned view was better – or worse –
depending on, oh, shit! how you looked at it.

Chakotay turned. “We may have a little glitch at the helm, Captain,” he told her.
“Nothing serious. Mr. Paris and I can handle it.” He noticed her eyes were a touch
glassy and her lips slightly parted and moist. It made her look damned kissable.
He pressed his own lips together, drew in his breath and turned back to Paris.

“I think we’re going to have to take a look inside,” Paris sighed.

Chakotay shook his head. “I’ll look. You stay here and run the diagnostics when I
ask you to.” He crouched down and removed the access panel and then got down
on hands and knees to peer inside.

Janeway gripped the arms of her chair and looked anywhere else. The muscles
rippled up from his thighs to his ass and across his back. He looked like he
needed a good ride. She gulped.

“Are you all right, Captain?” asked Tuvok, appearing at her shoulder with a data
padd extended for approval.

“Fine.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “Fine,” she repeated, this time a
reasonable impersonation of her own voice. “My mind was just on other matters,
Tuvok.” Hell, your mind was in the gutter, Kathryn – face it. If Chakotay turned
around and saw your expression right now…

Instead he levered himself up and looked at the sim results from Tom’s latest test.

“Still sluggish,” Tom sighed again.

“It would seem that your responder coil is malfunctioning, but I can’t seem to find
anything wrong with it,” Chakotay mused. “I found the board, but it looks ok to
me.”

Tom shrugged. Mechanics were not his thing. “Maybe the Captain could help,” he
suggested. “Captain,” Paris turned in his chair. “Could you spare a moment to
have a look at something here?”

“Of course, Mr. Paris,” she said, pushing up from her seat gracefully.

She was lithe and strong, sure in every moment. Chakotay watched as slim hips
brought her toward them. She swayed a little when she walked – always – even on
the bridge on duty. Just a little saucy. Just a hint suggestive. Nothing overt. Just
enough to put him on edge – and damn near pull him over it.

He could smell her perfume now. Subtle, but spicy. She had dabbed a little on her
hair. He touch smell that, as much taller as he was than her – his face breathed in
her hair. Wasn’t there some regulation about perfume on duty? He mentally
reviewed the dress code – damn but there should be. He stepped back from her a
step. That was better.

Janeway reviewed the diagnostic studies and then shook her head. “I wish I knew,
Lieutenant.”

“Maybe if you took a look,” he suggested. “I mean the Commander already
looked, but if he just missed something…and with engineering shut down. Heck
Captain, you know more than most of the crew assigned there, anyway.”

She leaned back from Paris’s station and sighed. “All right, Mr. Paris. If you’re so
concerned. Commander, show me which board you think it might be,” she said,
kneeling down on the floor to peer into the station.

Chakotay knelt down next to her, deliberately ignoring her round, tightness. His
hip touched hers. She jumped, and then forced herself to relax. He smelled very
male – a bit of sweat, some like the sandalwood beard repressor he used, a bit
musky. It caused a reflexive reaction and she heard her own sharp intake of
breath.

“Let’s get this done,” she ordered a bit sharply, poking her head into the access
chamber. “Show me the board, Commander.”

His head appeared next to hers. There was enough room, but not enough air. At
least it didn’t seem so. They had to share it – he breathed out, she breathed in. In
about six minutes they would be breathing nothing but the other’s air. Chakotay
felt a fine sheen form on his face and he sat up abruptly, gulping.

“You okay, Commander?” Tom asked in his lazy drawl.

You try being six inches – hell two inches – away from that mouth – he damned
Paris. Much more of this and he’d have to stay down there until he was
presentable again. He glared at Paris. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“But did you find anything?” Paris wondered. “I mean did you see anything
interesting?”

Now Paris was pushing it. He knew damned well what was down there and his
blood pressure would be up this high, too, if he had to get as close as Chakotay
had. He warned Paris with a another glare – like it did any good.

“Hey. It’s not like I want the helm to be sluggish,” he said defensively.

Janeway was still half inside the access chamber. Chakotay nearly groaned at the
sight – and then he caught Paris’s not quite disguised look of amusement. Why the
damned pucah was enjoying this!

“Commander, I think I see the problem,’ Janeway’s muffled voice reached them.
“Could you hold a palm light for me?”

Chakotay grabbed the emergency light off the helm station and knelt back down,
shining it in next to Janeway.

“The beam’s too far to the left, Commander. You may need to come in over my
right shoulder,” she directed.

Over her…over her right shoulder. Let’s see. Put one leg here. Another – hell, not
there. Maybe crouching. No, couldn’t get the light close enough. He straddled her
leaving as much distance as was physically possible, one hand on the floor next to
her for balance, the other reaching over her shoulder. At that instant she backed
up.

“And you should have seen his face, when she backed up,” Tom laughed
convulsively, pausing in the backrub he was giving B’Elanna. “I thought he was
going to flip her over right there on the bridge. And then,” Tom pushed the tears
from his face and forced himself to intake air, “she just turned her head and said
in that voice, “if you’re finished, Commander.” Now Paris could barely breathe.
“Finished,” he chortled. “Finished. I’ll bet he was finished. If they can’t figure it
out from this one, there’s no hope. It was brilliant, B’Elanna. Close down
engineering for a warp core test. No repair staff available. No way they could see
that leola root fouling up the back of the board.” He bent back to rubbing her.

B’Elanna shifted so Tom could massage her legs. Nice hands. “I’ll have to get in
there tomorrow and take that board out,” she reminded him.

“I already put in for routine maintenance,” he said with a self-satisfied smile.
“We’re set.. Now roll over lover.”

Chakotay crouched on the darkened bridge at the helm station. He had relieved
the single watch who sat fourth shift on the bridge. The man was delighted to
have a few hours extra sleep and wouldn’t have questioned the First Officer’s
word anyway.

“See it?” he asked, holding the palm light closer.

“Got it,” she confirmed. “You can smell that damned leola root from a mile away.
Nice try though,” she admitted grudgingly.

“They’re escalating,” Chakotay observed. “This time was pretty damned bold,” he
grumbled.

“Hand me the pulse screwdriver and I’ll pop this out.” She reached back.

“That’s not the screwdriver, Kathryn.”

“I know, Chakotay.”

Paris led B’Elanna out of her quarters on their way to breakfast. He stumbled and
Torres caught his arm.

“What the hell?” Tom looked down and saw the responder board tangled in his
feet. It was active. He picked it up and read the message.

“What does it say,” B’Elanna demanded.

Tom held it out for her to read.

“Diagnostics complete.”

finis

4. Dance Lessons

Kathryn Janeway made her way down the corridor toward Sandrines. She was
walking a bit slower than her usual quick pace- and a bit less surely – hindered by
the uncomfortable unfamiliarity of 3″ high heels. They were the first she’d worn
in two years. She had dig the damned things out of a box in her closet to wear
tonight and rummage around for the dress as well. There hadn’t been too many
occasions in the delta quadrant formal enough for anything but regulation
uniform and boots, let alone saucy, black satin.

The dress was short and fit her slim hips with hugging lines, a little kick pleat in
the back. Two narrow straps kept her neck and shoulders mostly bare. It felt
damned strange to be walking around Voyager in the brief attire, but she was off
duty and it made her feel a bit sexy which was a nice change as well.

Still, she wondered why she had ever let B’Elanna talk her into this. As if she
didn’t have something better to do than take dancing lessons. If for forty years she
didn’t need to learn ballroom dancing, why now? Still, she had promised to come.

She reached the holodeck and touched the door panel. It slid open to reveal the
sleepy, smokey atmosphere of Sandrines which had become the unofficial
off-duty hangout of the crew – especially the senior officers. Tonight it was closed
for the dance lessons, though Sandrine and a couple of her regulars were still
lounging around.

“Captain,” B’Elanna greeted her, holding her at arms length. “You look
spectacular. Doesn’t she, Tom?”

Paris was here. Gods. That didn’t bode well. The last few times Tom and B’Elanna
had gotten together they had…damn… she should have known… Chakotay.
Talking to Sandrine. Well actually Sandrine was draped around Chakotay and he
was – well not resisting, that was for damned sure.

And what gave him the right to be here – for her dance lessons – and looking so
damned – well – male.

Think you could have gotten the pants a little tighter in the crotch, Commander?
she thought peevishly. Not that she was looking or anything.

And that shirt – what was it, some kind of white silk? No collar. Throat open a
few buttons. Cuffs rolled to the elbow. They used to call that casual elegance
where she came from. He could be posing for some damned cheesecake calendar.

He noticed her staring – damn, she had been, hadn’t she – and he met her gaze with
amusement before beginning a frank inventory of her assets, looking her up and
down, slowly, no rush, lingering here and there.

She felt like the dress was laying in a puddle at her feet by the time he was done,
but she was rooted to the spot. Her damned knees might fold if she tried to move.
Cheeky bastard.

Fine. You look. That’s it. Seeing enough? I could do a piroutte if that would help,
she thought grouchily as Chakotay disengaged from Sandrine and crossed over to
join them.

“I hope you don’t mind that I asked the Commander to join us,” Tom was
drawling. “I thought it would make more sense to have couples. You know. For
the lessons.”

Paris was really pushing it tonight.

“Fine,” she heard herself say. “I didn’t know you were interested in dancing,
Commander.”

Dancing. So that’s what she called it. Hell, it felt more like he was being
appriased for auction and she planned to be the highest bidder. The way she had
stared, her eyes flicking up and down him, stopping here, judging there.

Hope you found everything to your satisfaction, he thought irritably. And by the
way, one inch shorter and that dress would officially be classified a shirt. And
those shoes – made her calves curve right up to her round, tight….

“I took a few lessons at the Academy, but never really finished them,” he said in
answer to her question. “I thought this would be a good chance to brush up. Paris
here suggested it.”

Might as well give credit where credit was due. Right, Tom? You sneaky pucah.

Tom cleared his throat nosily. “Well, if we’re all ready. Commander, I thought
you might partner with B’Elanna. Since she already knows all the steps. And
Captain…” Paris held out his hands. “I guess you’re stuck with me. It’s really not
that bad. You’ll see. I’ve been practicing.”

Touch her anywhere below the waist and you’re dead meat, Paris, Chakotay
scowled as Tom swung Janeway into his arms, his hand just a little lower on her
back than was necessary.

He should have known something was up. Dammed he could be gullible. Tom
suggests that he come to Sandrines and learn a little about ballroom dancing. Says
he and B’Elanna had been trying out some new steps and it was good exercise,
relaxing, a different diversion. Ha!

Janeway watched Chakotay with B’Elanna. He moved her easily across the floor,
relaxed, graceful. It figured. He moved like a panther – well, some kind of stray
cat.

B’Elanna laughed as he dipped her, pulled her back up and twirled her. The action
made his pants tighten across his legs and ass. Janeway could see the muscles
working. Flex. Release. Flex. Release. God!

Paris let his hand slip down her back a just bit. Almost indecent. Not quite. She
would have a hard time proving anything anyway. And he pulled her just a little
closer. Just so the fabric of her dress rustled against his shirt. And then he raised
his extended arm, not a lot – but she was short against his height and had to raise
hers to match him.

Nice show, Paris, Chakotay brooded.

Tom twirled and then dipped her.

Dear God – red panties?! Chakotay almost choked. You’re wearing red panties,
Kathryn?!!

Janeway realized it the moment Paris twirled and dipped her. She’d worn red
panties. And judging from the look in Chakotay’s eyes now he knew it, too. As
did Paris. Damn. Double damn.

Then he did it – Paris stopped and tapped Chakotay on the shoulder. “Wanna
switch? Seems like you have the idea now.”

Switch? Hell, Paris, you give her to me now and that’s it. She’s mine pal. He
glared defiantly at Tom who only shrugged. “Of course if you’d rather not,” Paris
said breezily.

B’Elanna found herself released so fast she almost fell over.

Your palms are little damp, Commander, Janeway thought as he took her hands
and drew her close – no, drew her tight – against his chest. She felt her breasts
brush his hardness. Hell that wasn’t all that that was wet.

No bra, Kathryn? Now that was nice. His hand dipped down her back stopping
right at the curve of her ass. Try and get out of this one, he dared her. Just a
couple of fellow officers taking dancing lessons – nothing to get excited about.

Your hand goes any further down my rear, buddy and I could sit on it, Janeway
thought peevishly, curling her own hand around his neck, the fingertips just below
the collar line, touching bare skin. She groaned inwardly at the contact, her
tongue tipping out to moisten her lips.

Abruptly Paris pulled them apart, slapping Chakotay’s shoulder jovially. “Well,
that’s it. Seems like you both got the hang of it. How about if we meet every
week?”

It was a challenge issued and both Chakotay and Janeway knew it. They
exchanged glances. No way in hell Paris was going to get them on this one.

“Fine,” answered in unison.

“Well great,” Tom drawled. “And in between I suggest a little practice. You have
the moves down – you just need a little experience.”

Paris led B’Elanna from Sandrines and the door slid shut behind them.

“She had on red panties, B’Elanna,” Tom chortled. “Did you catch the look on his
face when I dipped her and he saw?”

“He nearly crushed my hand,” B’Elanna grinned. “And I think his blood pressure
shot up about 40 points.”

“I’ll bet that’s not all that shot up,” Tom snipped, waggling his eyebrows, and
sliding his hand down B’Elanna’s back as they stepped ito the lift and headed
toward officer’s quarters. “But they still didn’t really *do* anything, did they?” he
sighed.

“I guess they just need more lessons,” B’Elanna said thoughtfully.

“Oh, damn, forgot my jacket. Hold. Reverse direction to holodeck level.”

“Red was a nice touch, Kathryn,” Chakotay commented as her dress pooled to the
floor and joined his shirt and pants.

“I thought so,” she smirked, expertly skinning off his briefs and tossing them on
the clothes pile.

“Where do you want to start?” he asked.

“The pool table would be fun.”

Tom and B’Elanna stepped out of the lift and headed toward the holodeck. Tom
tapped in the access code.

“This holodeck is privately engaged,” the computer advised.

“For what?” Tom demanded. “It’s my damn program. What’s it engaged for?”

“Dance lessons,” replied the distinctive female voice. It was Janeway.

“Goodnight, Tom. Good night B’Elanna.” That from Chakotay.

Then there came a low chuckle. “Could we try that dip again, Commander?”

“Anything you say, Captain.”

finis

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