CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“Poor Min… poor Min… poor Min.”

– Cab Calloway

Though she'd been unsurprised when Parihn had approached her and requested a session to talk, Hatshepsut had accepted with a startled trill nonetheless.

No need to let her know I was anticipating it. She'd probably be annoyed.

The Felisian had carefully laid the preliminary groundwork for the more difficult exchanges that might lay ahead; over the last few days, she’d chatted with Parihn about one or two of the more tangential events in recent weeks, and the younger woman had been forthright and candid.

Whether she could maintain that when the discussion grew more difficult, and the questions uncomfortably prying, was something they’d both learn now.

“I’m curious… how was it?”

Parihn’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“How was what?” she asked.

The Felisian shifted slightly in her seat, and almost off-handedly elaborated.

“The sex. How was the sex with Jerrell?”

It was apparent Parihn hadn’t been expecting that.

“What does that have to do with this?”

Hatshepsut’s near constant purr modulated slightly, and she gestured with a paw.

“Humor me.”

Parihn’s expression grew first vexed, and then indignant.

“Humor you? Or titillate you? I mean, if you want vicarious excitement, M’Raav, I have a lot more interesting stuff in my past than that night.”

Hatshepsut trilled at her upset, but did not allow the angry implication to annoy…

…or to deter.

“No. Your recent encounter is, for now, the only one in which I have any interest.”

Liberty’s counselor watched the play of emotions on Parihn’s face with an interesting combination of professional detachment and personal concern. For a moment, Hatshepsut wondered whether she’d have to endure an explosive tirade; then, either rationality, restraint, or a hybrid of both prevailed, and her friend settled back into the chair.

“I don’t see why this is necessary,” she muttered.

“I, however, do. Proceed when you’re ready.”

It was another minute or so before Parihn spoke again.

“I’m not quite sure what you’re asking me.”

Hatshepsut’s tail twitched once, then thumped on the floor. The Orion started, but gave no other reaction—maintaining a stubborn, almost resentful silence.

All right… I’d have preferred this the easy way, but I shan’t shy away from what I think must be done.

“Shall I ask specific questions?”

Parihn shrugged.

Hatshepsut nodded.

“Very well. Did Jerrell hurt you?”

“No.”

“Is he attractive?”

Again, she jerked her shoulders.

“I suppose.”

“I’m not interested in your suppositions. I want your opinion. Is he attractive?”

Parihn sighed, and answered, “Yes and no.”

Hatshepsut knew her friend had a steely sense of purpose, once aroused; curious as to her reaction now that the pump had been primed, she withheld her next query, and waited. Even she wasn’t entirely certain of the purpose in pursuing this, but trusted her instincts, and hoped she could contribute just enough of the conversation to allow Parihn her head.

What the Orion volunteered next was intriguing.

“He's extremely good-looking, but… I wasn’t attracted to him when the evening began… or when it was over.”

Liberty's counselor noted her careful delineation.

“And during?”

This time, there was only a curt nod.

“What do you think caused the temporary change?”

Parihn’s expression was grim.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Hatshepsut inclined her head… but belabored the point anyway.

“I take it from that response that you weren’t entirely displeased by what happened during the night.”

“No… I wasn’t.”

Again, the Felisian hesitated, sensing that Parihn wasn’t done.

“Despite what we heard from Xorc on the Griffin, Jerrell’s not amazing, but he is adept… quite proficient,” the younger woman admitted, “with good technique and stamina. He's clearly had more than a few women, and has been… refining his method for a while; I can tell.

“He perceived my likes better than I'd hoped, too. I started out practically rigid, and ended up somewhat pliable—until that final instant during our last coupling, that is. He has an attractive body… nice equipment… and uses it all well.

“At least, he did on me.”

Hatshepsut trilled internally.

Well… an endorsement… but hardly a ringing one.

What she said, though, was, “That sounds like a fairly objective, qualified—in both senses of the term—and even, I dare to say, expert evaluation.”

Parihn’s expression grew distant; her voice became, for a moment, dull.

“If you say so. You’re the professional—at least here.”

Oh, dear. Time to shake her up a bit.

“So you’re telling me you enjoyed it more than a bit,” Hatshepsut reiterated.

“Yes.”

Relentlessly, she added, “Despite yourself.”

“Yes. How many damned times do I have to confirm that?”

“Did you climax?”

Parihn's brow furrowed; she was growing aghast at the details the counselor was demanding.

Still, she answered truthfully, as always.

“On a few occasions during the course of the evening.”

“How were they?” the Felisian prodded… then watched as her patient sighed explosively.

“They were orgasms, Hatshepsut. In case you haven't had one recently, I’ll remind you that orgasms feel good.”

Again, the feline restrained her amusement at Parihn’s rather biting wit.

You've been taking sarcasm lessons from Cicero over the years, my friend… and were pretty good on your own before that, as I recall.

“I've had a number of them in my time…” she purred drolly, “…but mine are usually more than just ‘good.’

“Were these?”

The Orion pondered that with deliberate care.

Eventually, she replied, “No… well, not all of them. One was just that… good.

“The first one came when he… had my legs together in the air. It actually caught me a bit by surprise; the feeling was fairly mild, but I must have noticeably contracted my muscles or changed expression, because the federas had the gall to say, 'There we go'—like he was praising a child he'd just coaxed out of a cross mood.

“I didn't answer. I just tried to ignore him and…”

She stopped.

“…appreciate the sensations?” Hatshepsut finished.

“Yes. After all, even the minor ones are… worth noticing.”

The Felisian noted that the comment sounded more like a concession than it did a simple declaration.

“Go on.”

“The second came the next time he took me. He wasn't being brutal, but he was thrusting… enthusiastically… holding my legs by the ankles again—seems to like the control it gives him—this time wide open.

“It was… better for me than the first.”

Hatshepsut's instincts were aroused.

“Why is that?”

The Orion actually fidgeted in her chair—not in remembrance, Hatshepsut realized a moment later, but rather embarrassment.

“I… anticipated this one… felt it impending as another gentle flush… but once I knew it was going to happen no matter what I did, I… adjusted myself… beneath him to make certain it would be more intense… and it was.

“It was… quite good… and certainly put me a little more in the mood for him to continue… but he finished just then, too.”

She seems both relieved by and annoyed about that. Interesting.

“Sounds to me like you took a page from the book of 'If they can't do it right, you might as well do it yourself.'“

Parihn shrugged.

“I don't know. I suppose so. He still couldn't keep his mouth shut. A few seconds afterward, the condescending vika said, 'That's more like it.'

“For just a moment, I was really angry.”

Hatshepsut pounced on that.

“With him, for his arrogance in thinking he'd done it…

“…or yourself at acting to achieve a better result—for actually participating, even for a moment?”

Regretfully, the Orion admitted, “Both... and… “

“Yes?”

“…wondering whether I would have continued participating if he'd been able to go on just then—how… enthusiastic I would have gotten. Certainly I didn’t overly mind when he waved his palan in my face a few hours later, looking for stimulation. I guess by that point I was enthused.”

Bitterly, she added, “I just went right back to work.”

The Felisian reminded her, “You had to do what he required, within reason, didn't you?”

She nodded. “That was the arrangement.”

“Then were you actually enthused… or simply resigned, and falling back on your skills to simulate eagerness—even to yourself?”

“I… hmm.

“Maybe some of each. I was on automatic pilot for a lot of it.

“But it certainly didn't disgust me.

“And it got worse.

“The night was nearly over… I’d hoped he’d simply sleep through the dawn—that I could wake him and demand the information—but of course that was too much for the gods to grant me."

Her agitation was palpable as she related what had happened.

“My back was to him. I pretended to be asleep, hoping he’d leave me be for just a little longer. Instead, he… he used his fingers on me... in me.

“He handled me like a glove he was trying to break in.”

“But it felt good.” Hatshepsut didn't even bother couching it as a question.

Parihn sighed.

“Yes. It did.

“I climaxed again—hard.”

“It was minutes before I could have left, M’Raav, having fulfilled my obligation… having escaped… and Jerrell just had to do that.

"But the worst part of it is that I wiggled my shavan around until he got it just right. He got me to help him one more time.

“It was the best and the worst I felt all night.

“When I was done, I thought for a moment I would cry.”

Hatshepsut murmured, “It’s all right to cry now, you know.”

Parihn’s jaw clenched, and she answered, “No. It’s not. Bad enough he made me come; I won’t give him the satisfaction of making me cry, too—even if he’d never know it.”

It wasn’t what she would do, but Liberty’s counselor understood it. Vaerth Parihn had her dignity, and weeping over this would be, for her, another blow to it.

“I didn’t have the luxury for tears then, though; he wouldn’t leave me alone… was inside me again only seconds afterward. I’d rolled over, and… presented myself rather enticingly, so he’d take me in the way I wanted him to do so.

“Right up until the end, though…” Her voice trailed off, and the Felisian could sense a torrent of bitterness bubbling inside her—emotion that needed release, or at least resolution, and might never find it, if the stubborn woman didn’t let go of her need to shutter herself off from the undiluted pain of what had happened.

She's actually seeking to berate herself. Why?

Hatshepsut had her suspicions… and had been particularly interested in Parihn's tone when answering all the graphic questions she'd been asking. It had seemed, alternately, blanched of agitation and rife with barely repressed frustration.

“So, adding to your current assessment the rather vulgar comment you made to me aboard the Griffin, we can conclude that a good time was had by both.”

“Yes. Haven’t I been saying that all along? Why don’t you belabor it for another hour or so?”

Sorry, Parihn, Hatshepsut thought, but I do have my reasons.

Now the feline subtly altered the angle of inquiry.

“All right, then… let’s move on.

“What were you expecting to have happen that evening?”

After a moment to consider, Parihn allowed, “Probably just that.”

Now Hatshepsut fired a shot that wasn’t exactly blind, but certainly wasn’t what she’d consider locked in.

“Yet, despite the fact that you anticipated something of the sort, you're still upset by it.

“Why?”

The Orion was examining her hands with great interest.

“I guess I was hoping it wouldn't—that things had changed for me.”

Now Hatshepsut had the scent.

“Even in women not so… inclined… as you, Parihn, genuine affection for one man does not preclude attraction and response to another—especially considering the uniquely difficult situation in which you found yourself.”

Then, her patient whispered three words that justified Hatshepsut’s foray.

“But it should.”

And, suddenly, Liberty’s counselor knew what until then she'd merely suspected.

“You feel as if you've been unfaithful—that liking it even moderately with Jerrell means you somehow betrayed Cicero, though you’re really not a couple.”

Again, the only response was a nod.

She’s miserable... and I'm not sure I can help much.

Still, Hatshepsut tried.

“I think you're being more than a little unrealistic. Our bodies react to stimuli, Parihn; you, of all women, know this. You're a very sensual person, were without your suppressants, and engaged in intercourse with a man you found, at least on a physical level, somewhat appealing—with whom you have an… unusual past. Undoubtedly, whether or not you’re willing to admit it, there was probably some sexual tension between you.”

“Big deal. There’s sexual tension between inert gases and me, Hatshepsut. That doesn’t mean I react to them.

“I should have been stronger.”

The Felisian chided her.

“Parihn. Nature took its course.

“The idealistic stance that love somehow protects us from being fallible, or makes us immune to the realities of a situation, is a very beautiful one… but, ultimately, it's a false hope.”

Abruptly, Parihn stood.

“I need to think,” she muttered, and before Hatshepsut could formulate a reply, fled the room.

Poor woman.

Sometimes, I don't very much enjoy my job.

Hatshepsut was encouraged when, less than a half-hour later, Parihn returned. Without preamble, the Orion reclaimed the chair in which she'd been sitting, and launched into what almost sounded like a rebuttal.

“I would never have slept with Jerrell had Aedra’s freedom not depended on it… and I’d never sleep with him again, were he the last man in the galaxy. I'd die first… or better yet, kill him.

“But the cruel reality is that Jerrell did have me…”

She finished with a statement that was clearly difficult for her… but in Hatshepsut's opinion, encouraging, because she’d volunteered it rather than having it suborned.

“…and yes, I did take pleasure in the physical aspect of it. I’m sorry if knowing that would hurt Cicero, but I can't… won't… lie about it.”

“No one is saying you should—not even Cicero would, if I read him correctly… and I usually do,” Hatshepsut noted mildly. “But you must know how… proprietary a person like that is, though. Surely you wouldn't expect him—or any man—to handle such an occurrence with complete equanimity?”

Parihn frowned.

“I understand, I really do… more than most women, I’d bet… and it's not as if I preferred Jerrell to him in bed—not even close. Jerrell made me feel good—admittedly despite myself, but still, only good. I can’t even describe how Cicero made me feel… and believe me, I’m pretty adept at illustrating sex.”

For a moment she smiled in remembrance, and blushed a bit.

“And he didn’t need any help.”

“No kidding?” Hatshepsut gently teased.

Parihn's warm thoughts were transient, though, as the current rift between them returned to the forefront of her mind.

“But what about the men who’ve had me in the past, M’Raav? Hell, I have an eidetic memory. I can give exact numbers and statistics if asked.

“I mean, let's be absurdly generous and assume that I hated or merely tolerated it with, say… nine out of ten—which is not necessarily what I’m implying. That still leaves more than a few that fucked me well enough that I was happy enough with what I was doing, when I was doing it… in other words, above and beyond performing my function, I fucked them back. Even Jerrell got that for a portion of the night, along with an efficient little, as the humans say, ‘blowjob.’ And in spite of your gracious attempt to justify my actions, M'Raav, I actually enjoyed giving it to him, at least in part.

“How do you think all that sits with Cicero… or lays, if we're being precise?”

Hatshepsut's tail twined around her friend's wrist in brief commiseration, and then laid itself back on the couch. Before she could reply, though, Parihn continued off on a tangent of her own.

“Look... I've been forced to do things, Hatshepsut... and as I told Cicero, worse than what Aedra did in that video. I'm honest enough to admit that there was a goodly part of me that accepted it—at times, was a willing or even eager participant. There are scientists who think my kind were made for sex, after all, and though my masters occasionally pushed even me to my limits, there were times I was content to test those limits.

“The part of me that was Parihn, though… that was always Parihn… knew there was more to me—that the fact I could make men and women my slaves imprisoned me as much as it did them... and that I had to see who I was without it.

“But I also know it, too, is as legitimate a part of my identity as the scared, scarred young ensign you all befriended four years ago. That life may have been forced on me… it may not have been my choice… but to pretend such things never happened, or that I’ve not been affected by them, would have left me as brittle and vulnerable to meaningless, shallow sensuality as Aedra proved to be."

Now her agitation took on a different flavor.

“I warned her years ago, again and again, not to hold her sexuality in contempt, but she wouldn't listen. She wanted nothing to do with it—even once she'd found someone she loved. That desire was simmering inside… and when it had the chance, it exploded and overwhelmed her.”

It was apparent Parihn was now engaged in rehashing arguments that had never been won, or even settled.

“Now, I haven't been particularly active for the last eight years… but I've had a few encounters, and I've never been sorry about them.”

Her face twisted slightly; Hatshepsut knew she was recalling her most recent one.

“Well, never until now, that is.

“I simply wanted to… to care about anyone to whom I gave myself… and until Jerrell, I was always able to do that, infrequent though the instances were.

“That might have been me instead of Aedra, M'Raav... it’s possible even I could, eventually, have been completely broken and made happy to be abused—as she was. The gods know I struggled with it off and on for years… and in a way, I suppose, still do, if my night with Jerrell is any indication.

“And if it had happened to me instead of Aedra, I'd have expected… someone… to save me... and help me back, and care for me throughout our mutual ordeal... because love isn't just about the happy moments… it's also, unfortunately, about the ones that make your heart freeze… and, sometimes, your palan shrivel.”

She hugged herself.

“And now… I just don't know anyone would.”

Hatshepsut considered that for a moment. She'd just then been reminded that this wasn’t simply about Parihn's feelings over Aedra’s trauma or Jerrell’s partly successful physical seduction, coerced though it had been.

This was about her choices, her chances—her whole life.

“I hardly think the fact that you and Cicero haven't discussed your past at length is a strong indication that he's never considered it at all on his own, Parihn—even simply in how to address it with you in the context of your friendship, if it sometime became a topic of discussion. He's a thoughtful, subtle man… and no one's fool.”

Except perhaps yours.

“But, though I'm still more interested in this recent incident, at the moment, I have another question: Why have you continued coming to me? Personnel records and psych profiles indicate you never much discussed your past with Starfleet counselors, other than the mandatory sessions prior to Academy acceptance. You’ve handled it, for the most part, by yourself all this time.”

Though she knew full well, Hatshepsut added, “So why now?”

Can she see it? wondered the Felisian.

Can she even ask the correct question?

“I thought… I knew… I was doing the necessary thing—that it might cost me my self-respect, and maybe a whole hell of a lot more, personally, once Cicero found out,” Parihn said. “I thought I was prepared to accept that, for Aedra’s sake.

“So why…?” Her voice cracked, but she swallowed hard and pushed on. “…why do I still feel so ashamed?”

One of the hardest things a counselor had to do was grant a patient insight that was certain to cause them anguish. Hatshepsut had rarely shied from it before, but now she hesitated.

Oh, Parihn… I’m so sorry.

Tempering her tone with gentleness and care, the Felisian gave her response.

“Because, my friend, even though you acted for what you thought a noble cause… on this occasion, the final decision to do it was yours.

“For the first time in your life…

“…you prostituted yourself.”

That hit her, hard…

…but she faced it with her usual strength, and nodded.

“Jerrell said something that touched on that before he had me, but I don't think I was capable of hearing anything from him, considering what he was planning… and then what we did.

“I guess I've always thought I could keep Shomira in a box, to take out whenever I needed her.”

Parihn closed her eyes; even the consoling purr and compassionate pose of Hatshepsut were too much to bear.

“But, right or wrong, good or bad, I can't hide from what I did… who I hurt… because, ultimately, there is no Shomira. I've got to stop blaming her like she's actually another person.” Her shoulders slumped, and her head sagged.

“Shomira didn't make that decision, and do those things.” She worked up her courage, and faced M'Raav again.

At last, she admitted, “Parihn did.”

Interlude Six Interlude Seven