Though
I don't like spoiling even part of a novelette's plot, I don't feel I have any
real choice, in this case.
This is the
first story I've ever posted to the
In case some
of you are now dismayed at the “twisted” turn the site has taken, let me
reassure you. If someone were to ask me, point blank, how pronounced this
tendency was going to become, I'd probably guess this: Of the 55-65 stories I
have planned or already finished, only eight or nine will contain sexual encounters.
And few of them, I believe, will be gratuitous (unless the piece itself
is a simple exercise in naughtiness; I can only think of one or two of these I
plan on writing); they will, otherwise, all
substantially affect mainstream or secondary plot in some fashion… or,
alternately, be a consequence thereof. Otherwise, there's no real purpose to
it.
As always, I
invite your honest feedback.
On a pair of
personal notes… if, by some odd chance, you see this, Jungle Kitty, I want to
thank you for the inspiration to explore such issues. I only wish our brief
dialogue could have been mutually
beneficial. I pray you achieve success and happiness.
I also want
to thank Julie Raybon-Winningham, who could have freaked out when I showed her
a story involving one of her characters in flagrante delecto. Instead,
she endorsed it wholeheartedly, and gave me the… I shudder to say… green light.
Thanks, Julie
Raygun. You're the bestest.
"The Cotillion"
By Joseph Manno
"And there's a rose in the fisted glove
And the eagle flies with the dove
And if you can't be with the one you love…
Honey, love the one you're with."
- Stephen Stills
For the first
time since the "13th Fleet" had assembled, Luciano
Mantovanni did something he thought he'd never do.
He
surrendered.
"All
right, Captain. If it's a party you want, I suppose I owe it to you and our
various crews.
"Permission
granted."
The man to
whom he was speaking smiled broadly, and nodded.
"Excellent.
And it's not just a party, Cicero.
"It's a cotillion."
The word was
said with such relish and reverence Mantovanni immediately wondered whether the
calculated risk he'd taken in conceding to his friend's wishes had already
backfired.
A second
later, he had his answer.
"And who
are you goin' to escort?" Maitland Forrest inquired.
"Considering
this was decided about 15 seconds ago, I really haven't had time to spare it
much thought," the Sicilian replied dryly, and again attempted a return to
his work: Liberty's captain was currently locked in mortal combat with a
series of clerical tasks—tasks he'd essentially ignored for months, and all of which had to be finished before
the ships that were under his command went their separate ways. The distraction
had given Forrest just enough conversational leeway to wheedle this
concession from his commander and friend.
Matt was
undeterred, and gave him a knowing smirk. He prodded, "Well, then… think
about it now."
Mantovanni
sighed; he wasn't, at the moment, particularly inclined towards Forrest's
peculiar brand of banter.
Then, again,
I’m not sure I'm ever so
inclined.
"You
know, Captain, I had to write a performance report on you, too… and I can very easily go back and edit the phrase
'incisive counselor' to something more accurate—like 'irritating
conversationalist' or 'incessant chatterer.'"
As was
typical of him, Forrest looked wildly unimpressed at the threat.
"Ah'm
truly wounded by your rapier wit,
He's been using the same material for
three months… yet it's my wit that's insufficiently sharp.
"Besides,"
Mantovanni observed, "if I'm to serve as host, I should probably not
'escort' anyone in particular."
Athene's commander folded his arms, and shook
his head.
"Very adroit, Commodore… but ah beg to
differ."
Luciano
Mantovanni again glanced up from the report upon which he'd been working and
allowed himself a measured smile.
"Permission to 'differ' granted—so long
as you do it silently."
Once again,
Mantovanni's "orders" had their customary effect on Maitland Forrest;
that is, he continued undaunted.
"Ah must
admit to bein' intrigued by the shy and retirin' Dr. Shana Arland." He
stopped, and
Hopefully clothed, was his admittedly cynical thought.
"You're
'intrigued' by anything you can envision in a skirt, Matt," Mantovanni
opined.
Forrest was
unperturbed.
"Actually,
ah draw the line at Scotsmen." After a moment, he added, "But Shana
isn't the only possibility; there's Captain Donaldson, as well. An attractive
woman… and so spirited—just as you'd
expect a redhead to be.
“Perhaps
ah’ll have to devote mah not inconsiderable charms to... softenin’ her impression of me.”
“Don’t bother,” Mantovanni told him drolly. “She’s not
your type.”
Forrest found
himself intrigued by the comment.
“And
precisely why would you say that?”
“Because,”
his commander answered, “she neither preens nor fawns. You’d have nothing to
talk about.”
While the
Sicilian’s delivery was, as always, carefully measured, Forrest detected an
edge he’d never before noted.
Well… isn't that interesting?
He decided to
test his theory.
“With a woman
like that, conversation would hardly
be at the top of mah manifest. Considerin' how… uptight…
Ms. Donaldson is, I daresay what she needs is a good f–…”
Mantovanni
turned a genuine glare on him, and Matt prudently swallowed the rest of his
observation.
“That’s quite
enough. She's a fellow officer…
have a little respect.”
But Forrest
wasn’t done.
“Oh, dear!”
he exclaimed, and grinned smugly. “She has gotten under your skin, hasn’t she, Commodore?”
The reaction
was about what he'd expected: A slight sigh, and a curt, “I don’t have time for
your adolescent mooning, Captain Forrest.
"You’re
dismissed.”
Somehow, Matt
Forrest knew in that moment that he'd struck all too close to home.
I knew it. He does like her… well, as much as he likes anyone. I so enjoy bein’ correct…
…and I get to experience it so
often.
As Athene’s captain departed, he paused
just before the door opened, and fired his final volley.
“You may dismiss me
from the room, sir... but I bet you'll have a harder time dismissin' her from
your thoughts. She may not be mah
type…
"…but she's definitely yours."
***
When
consulting on administrative matters with Donaldson later, Mantovanni broached
the subject… and got precisely the
reaction he'd predicted.
"What in
the devil is a cotillion?"
Carefully,
the Sicilian explained the concept.
"He
wants what?" she exclaimed.
"Not
only 'wants,' Captain.
"Gets. I've
considered the request, and the reasons behind it, and believe a cotillion will
be good for morale. I'm not much of a party person, but many in our various
crews are… and handing the Dominion
their first major defeat of the war is more
than reason to take a breather. We've got them on the run, at least for a few
weeks, and we need to celebrate."
"I'm not
sure who I should hate more," Erika grumbled. "You
or Matt."
"I'd go
with the latter—at least in this case. He said, and I quote, 'A little
"archaic asininity" might do Captain Donaldson some good.'"
Mantovanni arched a brow.
"Have
any idea what that means?"
Unfortunately. Erika Donaldson did have an
idea.
Oh, God. Talk about
your comments coming back to bite you in the ass.
"I'm
sure the word 'uptight' figures in somehow," she muttered.
The Sicilian
carefully avoided her glare… and brutally suppressed his own smile.
"Is that
a reference to corsets?"
She looked
blankly at him… and then gritted her teeth.
"Someday,
Erika
realized that she was, at least momentarily, outmatched, when, without batting
an eyelash, Mantovanni replied, "Oh, fiddle
dee dee. As God is mah witness, ah'll never wear a dress again!"
She responded
in the only manner that was appropriate, and stuck her tongue out at him.
"If
you'll excuse me, sir," she announced, standing,
"I have to do some research on just how humiliating this is actually going to be."
Mantovanni's
expression grew suddenly intense.
"Before
Matt can strike, I'll preempt him. Will you go with me?"
Erika stared
at him dully.
"Huh? You're kidding, right?"
"It's
not a difficult question," he continued, "but, since it's a
cotillion, perhaps a little period dialogue might persuade you: As Matt might
say, 'Will you do this gentleman the honor of permittin' him to
escort you, and bask in your glory?'"
Suddenly she
wasn't so certain this was a joke any more.
"I, ah...." Donaldson's cheeks flushed faintly.
"Sure," she finished lamely.
He noted her
facial cast, and smiled again.
"Ah... very good, then. I'll consider that charmin' colorin' a touch of
your… fiery
presence, the better to keep me in a state of anticipation."
Who is this man?
she thought, almost desperately. And what has he done with Luciano Mantovanni?
And then, in
a literal blink of an eye, that voice lost the Southern gentility it had so
easily adopted, and he was again her commanding officer.
"I'll
need those notes of commendation before
"Oh!… yes, of course, sir." Donaldson wrenched her
attention back to business. "I'll have them to you by shift change."
"Dismissed."
She made for
the door, a bit off balance, but was unable to escape before he added,
"And don't worry: You'll get yours."
She decided
not to inquire as to exactly what he
was referring, and made her escape.
A cotillion… oh, dear.
To her horror
and dismay, though, she'd found herself—for a moment, at least—actually looking
forward to the upcoming evening.
But what the hell is a corset?
***
When Shana
Arland entered Erika Donaldson's quarters, less than two hours before the
soiree was scheduled to begin, she had more than an inkling of what she'd find…
…and wasn’t at all disappointed.
There sat her
friend, in a shapeless gray smock; next to her, the dress and accessories were
laid out perfectly—just the way Shana had left them for her three hours before.
"Don't
say it."
"I'm not going."
With an
effort, Shana restrained her exasperation, and firmly told her friend, "Oh
yes, you are… I'll make it a medical
order if I have to—stress relief for an overtaxed combat officer."
Erika held up
the mass of fabric and lace, and plaintively said, "I can't do this."
"Yes,
you can." Shana Arland took the
gown from her and laid it out on the bed. "What are you afraid of?"
"It's not that."
Actually, Adventurous' CMO had long ago discerned that it was, in part… but knew her friend would never admit it.
"It's
just… not me, Shana." Sitting
cross-legged on the other side of the mattress, Erika eyed the intricately
designed dress with faint distaste… and the corset with open antipathy.
"Only
because you won't let it be."
Shana sat down next to her and took her hands.
"It's okay to be a girl sometimes, you
know."
Erika looked
utterly miserable.
"You know I don't know how. I mean," and she actually glanced around an otherwise empty
room before speaking, "I even tried to put on make-up an hour ago; I ended up looking like a harlequin…
"…and not even one of the happy
ones!"
Shana tried
not to laugh, but succeeded only in part.
"I
remember your attempts at the Academy. Gari Cortes would flee the room in
terror I'm not so sure was all put on; she used to say she was certain you'd
eventually find some combination that would explode,
and didn't want to be there for it.
"Thank
goodness you were always a natural beauty, Edie. If you'd needed to rely on
cosmetics, you'd be a 37-year-old virgin."
"Shut up!"
Shana
chuckled again.
"I'm sorry, sweetie… but you're just so cute
when you're helpless and pathetic. Fortunately, I anticipated your need, and
rounded up some assistance."
Erika glanced
up, suspicious.
"What kind of assistance?"
She tapped
her comm badge.
"Would
you mind coming in, now?"
Before Erika
could protest, or even question, the door to her quarters slid open again…
…and in
stepped someone she definitely hadn't
expected to see: Vaerth Parihn.
The young
Orion looked a little unsteady on her feet, but carefully made her way over to
a chair and seated herself. The effort seemed to tire her; no doubt the fact
that Parihn's muscles had had little or no use during the months of her
physical rejuvenation was slowing her a bit.
Adventurous' captain marveled at her very presence:
Both Shana and Dr. Matsuoka had made it clear that Parihn had survived her
ordeal for two reasons: One, her physiology was such that she possessed enormous regenerative capabilities; and
two, she'd simply refused to allow the inescapable, indescribable pain to kill
her.
She was,
quite simply, an incredibly brave and inconceivably determined young woman… and
now, months after the disaster that had nearly claimed her life, even her
beauty had begun to return, as well: While there were still patches on her face
and body where the flesh had not yet recovered, the improvement was noticeable
day-to-day.
Vaerth Parihn
would be lovely again, and Shana
could think of no one who deserved it more.
For the first
time in hours, Erika Donaldson looked genuinely pleased.
"Ensign! I didn't know you were out of the regenerative gel bath!"
"It's
just for an hour or two, ma'am. I was certified sufficiently physically fit
just over 45 minutes ago by Dr. Matsuoka. He was consulting with Dr. Arland,
and she mentioned something about your… situation.
"Helping
you seemed a good way to persuade them to let me out of there, for a little
while at least… so here I am."
Donaldson
glared at Shana.
"You're
yanking people out of their sick beds
to help me? How pathetic is that?"
"Believe
me, she volunteered… and, besides, it's therapeutic for you both."
Parihn
motioned to a reluctant Donaldson.
"Could
you come over here and sit, Captain? I'm sorry… I don't think I’m strong enough
yet to stand for very long."
Hesitantly,
Erika took a chair across from the Orion and assumed something of a pensive
expression while glancing into the gray flip-top kit the younger woman had
brought, and now opened on the small table beside her.
"What is all that stuff?"
Parihn
smiled.
"Ma'am,
with due respect… I'm guessing you really don't
want to know."
Shana stifled
a giggle.
"Wow… five minutes and she knows you."
"Shut
up, Doctor Nag… can't you see the girl is trying to work?"
Their
spontaneous cosmetician ignored the banter, and continued to select implements
and materials.
"You
never wear make-up, do you?"
"No,"
replied Erika, a touch defensively. "Why?"
Parihn didn't
react at all to the tone; instead, she smiled reassuringly.
"Well,
even the most advanced cosmetics aren't entirely
natural; they leave their mark, eventually. I was just assuming a lack of their
use was one of the reasons you have such lovely, flawless skin."
"Oh.
"Oh.
Um… thanks."
Shana covered
a smile. Her friend obviously felt like a heel for thinking the younger woman
had been insulting her.
Well, good. She deserves it.
Parihn's
motions were light and gentle; her brushstrokes were more a caress than a
touch, and, after a few moments, she began to sing in a soft, beautiful alto as
she worked. In what couldn't have been more than six or seven minutes, she used
ten different applicators, and a handful of colors and shades, in a combination
the other women found dizzying… and
incomprehensible.
Abruptly, she
was done.
Erika tried
not to grimace or squint as Parihn placed the mirror before her.
She hazarded
a glance… blinked in surprise, and took another… then stared silently at the
likeness regarding her for a long
moment.
Wonderingly,
she whispered, "Oh, my goodness. I'm so… pretty. I don't even look like I'm wearing any make-up.
"How the
hell did you do
that?!"
Parihn
laughed.
"Well,
it's not like you were a hag to start, Captain Donaldson. This was easy."
Donaldson
scoffed.
"Easy!? This was miraculous!
"I don't
suppose you know anything about corsets?"
Erika had
meant her comment as a self-deprecating jest… but now the Orion's face changed
slightly, taking on a subtle emotion the older women couldn't, in that first
instant, identify.
"A little, actually… but I'm unfortunately much better versed at
removing clothes than I am at getting into them." Her expression was
positively bittersweet, and had clearly caught Donaldson by surprise.
"May I
go now, Captain?" she then requested. "I'm starting to get a little
tired, again."
Erika started
slightly, then said, "Of course, Ensign. I don't know how I can thank you."
The smile
returned.
"It was
my pleasure… and Captain Mantovanni's, too, unless I've lost my touch.
"Have a
nice evening."
After she'd
gone, Shana and Erika exchanged troubled glances.
"I think
I hurt her feelings. Did I say something wrong?"
Shana cursed
herself a bit.
"Yes,
you did… but trust me, it's my fault.
"You
couldn’t have known."
Dressing Erika had been a trial, too. She'd
complained, whined, and once, even threatened Shana, while Adventurous'
CMO had helped in donning her clothes.
Though they'd
been essentially done for ten minutes, Erika continued to fuss ineffectually,
attempting to adjust the constricting garment beneath the dress—which, despite
her determined efforts, remained near-excruciatingly uncomfortable.
"Now I understand
the concept behind this bloody corset: The woman's so eager to get out of the
damned thing that she's taking her clothes off—whether she likes the man or
not."
The door
chime buzzed.
"Come in," she said, irritated.
"Good evening, ladies."
Her irritation faded—instantly.
Luciano
Mantovanni had exercised commodore's privilege to find an angle: Unlike the
other male officers who'd be attending the gala, he was not in the uniform of
either the
He looked
dashing, handsome…
…and, she
admitted, in her most private of thoughts, utterly desirable.
Her
perspective, though, was neither unique nor, unfortunately for her, very
secret.
Shana
murmured, "Very tasty; 50-to-1 not wanting to get out of your clothes
won't be an issue tonight."
Erika gasped,
and turned a "Cut it out!"
face on her friend.
If Mantovanni
had heard—and it was a fairly good bet he had—he graciously didn't let on.
"Are you
betting for me or against me, Shana?" Erika twisted
about, peering over her shoulder and into the mirror. "Help me with this
damned shawl before I suffocate myself."
Arland moved
to assist, even as Mantovanni politely averted his gaze.
"For both of you..." she whispered,
teasingly. "That's why it won't be an issue. You should have seen yourself; you didn't
drool like that when you met March Patterson or Aaron Westlake, dear heart.
“He's a very
attractive man when he’s not
brooding… and even when he is.
“You like him. Just admit it."
Adventurous' captain turned a delicate shade of
pink, and took a step to the side so Mantovanni couldn't see her face, or its
reflection, in the mirror. "You are an evil creature, Shana Arland,"
she said quietly.
"Truth
is never evil," her friend avowed piously. She then giggled,
"Especially not when it's fun." Gently, she added, "Did you ever
think that he might like you, too?"
"Out." With the mirror’s aid, Erika pinned her
friend with a dark look, but Shana calmly finished re-fastening the row of tiny
buttons that ran down the back of the gown's bodice, handed her the matching
delicate jade green parasol and fan that completed the ensemble, and stood
back, looking Erika up and down with a critical eye.
"I can't
wait to see their faces," she
grinned.
"That bad?" Erika brushed self-consciously at the
heavy skirts.
"What do
you think, Captain?" Shana took her firmly by the shoulders and pulled her
around to face Mantovanni.
He considered
it for a moment.
"Ladies,"
he said, regarding them both, "a thousand ships were launched for
less."
While he'd
included Shana in the compliment, it was clear his eyes were only for Erika.
Donaldson
felt her cheeks redden again under that intense gaze. Oh, dear God. Well, if I faint, I can blame it on the corset, she
thought pragmatically.
"Dr.
Arland… no doubt you're needed elsewhere at the moment?" Mantovanni hinted
dryly.
Shana started, then
gave Erika a last brilliant smile before bustling—Yeah, that's the word, Erika thought, bustling—from the room.
Without
further ado or commentary, Luciano Mantovanni bowed slightly, and offered her
his arm.
As she took
it, and they fell into companionable stride down the corridor, Erika found
herself thinking, Warm as I feel, I don't think I'd better resort to the
fan.
At least not yet.
***
Chief Petty
Officer Roland Tighe,
He took a
deep breath, and let it out with a satisfied sigh.
"There's
nothin' like the hint of jasmine on a sultry summer night," he
commented to his X-O.
Unlike him, Maria
Petrova wasn't whole-heartedly enthusiastic about the idea of such an… antique…
assemblage… but, to please her captain, had studiously seen to making herself,
at least for tonight, the quintessential Southern belle. Her gown was
emerald green, an exact replica of one worn by renowned 20th century
thespian Vivian Leigh in the still-famed cinematic version of Margaret
Mitchell's Gone with the Wind. As she gave her parasol an experimental
twirl, though, the Russian admitted that there was something compelling about
the spectacle in which she found herself.
Matt's struck
a chord, thought Maria.
There are officers here in period garb I wouldn't have imagined out of
uniform, let alone playing dress-up… and they're having fun.
Perhaps we all needed a dose of sumptuous
grandiosity before returning to the reality of war.
Their host,
Luciano Mantovanni, made his timely appearance. Surprisingly, he wasn't alone,
but had on his arm Adventurous' captain, Erika Donaldson—who, Petrova
noted, looked "Quite fetchin'," as her captain would say. He
poured a cup of punch for first his companion, and then himself, before
addressing the assembled officers and enlisted.
The room grew
quiet.
"To our
fallen friends—who would not only have approved of such an evening for us, but insisted
on it.
"Life
goes on… they've helped make certain of that."
The murmurs
of "Hear, hear" and other expressions of approval were subdued, but
no less emphatic for that.
Nicely done,
Captain, Petrova
thought.
Then, she
glanced at her own commanding officer… and noted a familiar expression.
"If'n
you'll excuse me, Ms. Petrova… I believe I've spotted a woman in desperate need
of my… gallantry." He bowed slightly.
Knowing he'd
get a kick out of it, she curtseyed in response.
Hmm… Matt's
chosen his target for the evening.
Now, who will
it be? Brenda Nestor of Adventurous?
No, he's already done her…
ditto for Ingrid Swenson from
Here, though,
he's got what we pilots call a "target rich environment."
As his choice
became clear, Maria thought, Wow.
A surprise winner.
Erika
Donaldson had watched Maitland Forrest's approach with equal parts dread and
fascination. She wondered if Mantovanni's comment about beating him to the
punch, or something of that sort, wasn't about to become an issue.
To her
surprise, Erika found herself holding her escort's arm a little more
firmly—almost possessively.
Fortunately,
nothing like what her imagination had devised was in the offing.
Shana, it
seemed, had made an impression on Matt.
"Would you consider bein' mah own personal Florence Nightengale for the evenin’, Doctor? After all, it would be a crime to
overlook such lovely... plumage."
If Arland
hadn’t been wearing feathers, the comment would have been vulgar; as it was,
considering the daring décolletage of her gown, it seemed simultaneously
scandalous and… titillating.
And, behind
her fan, titter she did.
"Of course, Maitland."
Evidently
Matt had made an impression on
Shana, too—at least, enough to provide an excuse. With a sly glance that told
Erika her friend had planned all along to desert her as soon as it was
feasible, Arland and Forrest glided away towards the dance floor.
For the next
50 minutes, Luciano Mantovanni proved witty, charming, solicitous—all-in-all,
an enchanting companion.
Moreover, he
seemed to like her—very much.
Now Donaldson
was completely confused.
Erika first
considered asking for a blood sample to make certain he wasn't a Changeling…
then decided that some girl-talk might be helpful. Excusing herself from her
escort for a moment, she sought out the friend who'd left her to her own
devices almost an hour before.
"Shana?
I need to talk for a minute."
"No, you don't."
"Shana."
Her friend
whirled on her, set her hands on her hips, and enunciated carefully.
"Go… away." She turned back to Forrest, gave him an
adoring look that was only about two-thirds put-on, and gushed, "Now…
you were saying, Maitland?"
It was clear
Erika was on her own.
Despite the
rebuff, she retreated highly amused,
returning to where Mantovanni awaited her, and promptly telling him what had
occurred.
"Matt Forrest
is an irredeemable rogue, and Shana seems to have been reeled in rather
easily," Donaldson commented as she watched the two twirling around the
ballroom floor. She thought fleetingly again of her own profound relief
when
"This should be good for months of
teasing," she added.
"I'm not
sure that's a good course of action," the Sicilian countered wryly.
"Having heard the two of you go at it once or twice, I can't suggest you
start with her.
"I think
you're outgunned."
"That's
never stopped me before," Erika chuckled.
“Indeed. As
your commanding officer, I've observed that unfortunate tendency on more than
one occasion," he replied. "I've noted it in your performance
report."
Her smile
vanished.
"Ah
well. It'll show a measure of consistency." There was a sudden sharp edge
to her voice.
"It's
not like I have much else going for me, as far as Starfleet's concerned,"
she added darkly.
He realized
he'd made a misstep... and that she
had misunderstood.
"Erika...
I was joking. I thought you knew
that." When she colored slightly, his expression softened.
"Do you
really want to know what I said about you? Let's see: 'Captain Donaldson is forthright,
erudite, and determined; if she possesses each quality in, perhaps, excess, it
only makes her a better advocate for her vessel, her crew and the causes that
are lucky enough to have her espouse them. She is candid, bright, compassionate
and relentless in her pursuit of excellence. If I have served with a finer
officer, I am not aware of it.'
"If you
think I shortchanged you, we can discuss it tomorrow before Adventurous departs." Then, he gave
her one of his infrequent smiles, and arched a brow.
Donaldson
looked both surprised, and touched, by his words. "Thank you," she
said earnestly. "It's a novel experience to be judged by personal
impressions, and not previous reputation."
He then drew
a little closer.
"On a
side note… I didn't add that 'I often have to restrain myself from the
temptation of baiting her too frequently, because she takes it much too
personally; but that I occasionally do it anyway...'"
And he bent
to whisper.
"...because she's so lovely in her
passion it makes me thank God He gave man eyes with which to see."
She stood
absolutely still, her eyes locked with his. "That had better not be a joke," she murmured after a long moment.
"Are you
calling me a liar, woman?" he asked, with a mock severity that was still,
nonetheless, intimidating.
The roomful
of people somehow seemed light-years away.
"You’re
many things,
"Well,
then... that, at least, is settled." With a startling disregard for what
might be said by the assembled officers, he held out his arm. "Would you
care for a stroll, that we might continue our discussion more privately,
Captain Donaldson?"
She arched a
brow at him, mimicking the expression with devastating accuracy.
"An
excellent suggestion, Captain Mantovanni," she replied, taking his arm.
As they were
making their way towards the nearest exit, though, the veil of privacy their
crews had given them began to break down. Someone—Donaldson was almost certain it was
And that let loose the floodgates.
Wolf
whistles, shouts of encouragement and approval, naughty "Oooohs," and
various other comments filled the air.
"Don't
worry," her escort told her. "They all just wish that—tonight—they
were me."
"You
certainly know how to sweep a girl off her feet."
The hint of
rogue that occasionally manifested itself was fully apparent, as the doors
closed behind them, and he smiled with what she found was a dizzying,
delightful devilishness.
"You don't know the half of it,
Erika."
But it didn't take her long to learn.
***
Matt Forrest and Shana Arland watched
their friends depart together, and exchanged a knowing glance.
"It's mah
carefully considered opinion that Captain Erika Donaldson is about have the
night o' her life."
Shana choked on her punch, and nearly
covered Forrest with a fine pink mist. The man was outrageous.
Not to be outdone, though, Adventurous' doctor caught her breath…
then leapt to her friend's defense with a simple response.
"Funny… I was just thinking the
same thing about Captain Mantovanni."
"Well, mah dear," her escort
noted, even while guiding her back towards the dance floor, "the two
positions are not mutually
exclusive."
***
The stroll was heavenly.
For the first time since they'd met,
they spoke about matters of no consequence, and enjoyed it immensely. She
played hockey and mah jongg, he tennis and
chess, and both admitted to being better gamesmen than they were sportsmen. As
a matter of fact, she'd laughed with delight, touched at his honesty, when he
sheepishly revealed that he, the supposedly emotionless huntsman, had thrown a
racquet across the court in frustration—on more than one occasion.
He'd teased her in response.
"Mah
jongg? Please.
I can feel my arteries hardening when I'm even in the same room with
those little tiles."
She slapped his arm playfully.
"Yeah, a lecture
on stodginess from the chess master. Okay."
It was the first time she'd ever heard
him really laugh. He waved an arm, conceding the exchange, and they'd
continued on to other topics.
Erika found she didn't at all mind that
the walk had ended with them in his cabin.
Erika had never been one for this kind
of wooing, but Luciano Mantovanni was a natural. There was, it seemed,
something about Latin men that could be incredibly alluring, when they
chose to so exert it.
The Sicilian was definitely
making the effort… and as far as she was concerned, it was much appreciated.
Erika had needed to feel like a woman again, and he'd helped her do so with an
ease that she found startling in a man who usually seemed so insular. It was as
if he'd temporarily set that part of himself aside, especially for her.
Perhaps it was the wine—which was clearly not synthehol, and had
clearly gone to her head. Perhaps it was the unexpected, but strangely not
incongruous, gallantry and regard from a man about whom she'd once had a very sexual dream. Perhaps it was the
fact that she was lonely—that since Jonah had died four years ago, she hadn't,
as Scripture would say, "lay" with a man.
Perhaps it was a combination of all these facts, but, as Luciano
Mantovanni kissed her, Erika Donaldson decided that the rush of desire she'd
been experiencing for the better part of an hour needed release.
She whispered, "You're about to get very lucky, Captain."
He chuckled, but said nothing at first,
instead leaving a very enjoyable trail of kisses along her throat and the nape
of her neck.
Finally, he responded.
"That's assuming, of course, we can
get you out of this dress and corset before the next cotillion."
Dismayed, Erika realized he was right.
"Oh, no! It'll take me an hour to remove this thing!"
Mantovanni's expression darkened.
"Damned if it will. Is it an antique?"
"Um… no. It's right out of the replicator. Why do yo–?… Oh!"
With strength she'd seen on display more
than once in the last three months, Luciano Mantovanni seized two handfuls of
the gown… and effortlessly tore it in half.
Suddenly, shoes, stockings, frilly
underpants and a corset were all she
was wearing.
Instinctually, Erika covered herself as
best she could, and gaped at him with an expression of mingled shock and
astonishment.
"I don’t think that
quite qualifies as charming someone out of their dress," she murmured, wide-eyed.
He held his hand out to her; after a
shy, hesitant moment, she took it, and stepped out of the taffeta and velvet
circle now on the floor. Then he led her to the large easy chair in the corner
of the room, and gently impelled her down onto it.
Mantovanni knelt; then, more swiftly
than she could have believed, he unlaced her period shoes, and slipped them
off.
For a moment, Erika was slightly
embarrassed; she had rather large feet for a woman—though they were shapely, with a pretty arch—and had
never really liked them.
Tomboy toes, she thought.
He didn't seem to mind. He caressed the
instep of her right foot, then kissed its top.
The sensation was very pleasant, and she
found herself trembling: His unpredictable combination of gentle consideration
and demanding force had her both confused…
…and
extremely excited.
He continued to remove her clothing with
quiet efficiency, slipping her stockings off and casting them onto the growing
pile of fabric and leather, even as he caressed her smooth legs, and she
relished the sensation.
Suddenly, Erika realized that he was
still wearing everything he had been.
"Um…
Now his grin grew devilish.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to
help?"
Her lips curved into a smile, and
teasingly, she replied, "Not
really." Then, she reclined back in the chair, and placed her arms
over her head in what she thought was a caricature of a provocative stance.
After a moment, though, she became
uncomfortably aware that he evidently didn't think her pose was at all silly: His eyes devoured every
inch of her, and Erika could feel her whole body flush at the intensity of the
regard. She even squirmed a bit.
Again, he offered his hand and assisted
Erika to her feet. This time, his fingers moved to her hips; without ceremony,
he slipped the lacy panties she'd been wearing down over her slim hips and let
them, also, flutter to the floor.
Then, he stepped back to admire his
efforts.
"I have to admit, there's nothing like a woman in a corset."
What? Why, you…! Erika's
temper flared slightly.
"Is this some sort of dominance thing, Captain? I'm stripped,
barefoot and at your beck and call, while you're fully clothed?"
His eyes met hers with an intense
candor.
"No, Erika… I can't imagine any man in your life has ever had the privilege of seeing you in—and helping you out of—period dress. I'm
enjoying it quite a bit… because I knew you'd look beautiful, and had wanted to
see you this way.
"Is that so wrong?"
Suddenly, she felt abashed.
"No," she whispered. "I've just never
really considered myself beautiful. I thought you might be mocking me."
He chuckled, then, almost lasciviously,
and amended, "Bantering with you? Absolutely.
"Mocking you? Never."
Erika nodded, reassured… and then her own interest resurfaced with a
vengeance: She wanted to see him,
too.
"Well?" she demanded, pointing to his garb.
Before her eyes, he divested himself
first of the jacket, then the vest, and finally the blouse.
Erika found herself grinning: He was
strongly built, but not bulky, and looked much more muscular bare-chested than
he did in uniform.
What had her smiling, though, was his
hair.
She'd never much liked hirsute men, and
had eschewed them in her youth, preferring clean-skinned blonds… but was
surprised to find herself re-evaluating that position as she looked at Luciano
Mantovanni.
He did, indeed, possess it—if it was not
precisely abundant, then it was certainly apparent, especially on his chest and
arms—and she was pleased to concede, that in this case at least, it was very sexy.
On
Mmm… very male.
He noticed her expression, and matched
it with one of his own.
"Problem, Captain?" he asked, with a touch of her commanding
officer in the tone.
She answered with a forthright, "No, sir"… then impishly added, "But I'll inform you if I run
across anything."
“I have no doubt,” he acknowledged, amused.
Next, Mantovanni removed his boots and
stockings, twice balancing quite effortlessly on one foot to do so.
He has such an easy grace, Erika thought, envious… and a bit chagrined. They'd have to cart me down to sickbay and set my hip if I tried that.
Then he surprised her.
"Your turn again."
He moved behind her, first slipping an
arm about her waist and drawing her back towards him. Again, he kissed Erika's
neck; he seemed to know just how much she savored that, and gave the area twixt
her ear and shoulder especial attention.
"Mmm…"
Then he pulled back, and she felt his
clever fingers undoing the settings on the corset. Again, faster than she could
have believed, the constricting sensation was gone, and the torture device
joined the rest of its companions on the floor.
She couldn't help herself… she
stretched, luxuriously, and sighed.
"What a relief. Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet."
Suddenly, she felt his lips on her,
kissing between her shoulder blades, down her back, to the base of her spine.
Erika was vaguely aware that she'd rather wantonly widened her stance as he'd
done so, but at this point simply didn't care.
Then, she felt his mouth between her
thighs… his tongue probing into her…
…and her legs almost buckled.
Swiftly, his ministrations brought her
towards a climax Erika dizzily realized she desperately wanted… practically needed.
It had been so long.
Then, seconds away from the point of no
return, he stopped.
"Huh? Um… hey!"
she protested, disoriented.
He wasn't having any of it, though. He
stood, gently grasped Erika by the hips and bent her slightly; she found
herself leaning on the nearby desk.
Uh oh.
Erika could feel she was ready—his lips
and tongue had seen to that—but this was not what she'd anticipated.
"Actually,
The shock of his initial entry was
swiftly past… and even it, she noted
in surprise, had been quite agreeable. Despite her slight affront, Erika
moaned, as he moved into her.
"Trust me," he whispered. "You'll like it
if it's done slowly, properly."
"I don't kn–… ohh… ohh!"
Despite his having forged ahead, she
felt him being careful, too, allowing her to gradually accommodate him.
"I… ohhhh… wanted to…"
"…be in control?" Mantovanni
finished. "Sorry, Captain. That's not on the docket: Take the day
off."
She desperately wanted to be annoyed, but it just wasn't working: His pace was perfect… his strokes long, rhythmic
and incredibly good.
Being upset with him clearly wasn't on
the docket, either.
Over the next few minutes, through a
haze of pleasure, Erika Donaldson quite
forgot, at least for now, that she didn't like having a man behind her… filling
her… widening her… and the interrupted orgasm she'd so lamented moments ago
re-blossomed gloriously. She grasped the table harder, as a wave of sensation
mounted and began to crest.
"I'm going t–…"
She never got the rest of the words out,
instead slipping into incoherent exhalations as she climaxed. This time, her
legs did give way, and if not for his strong hand around her waist, she might
have hurt them both… and been completely unaware while so doing.
As it was, he held her, and she relied
on him and the desk while lost in sensations the intensity of which she'd
rarely experienced.
After long moments, though, she came to
her senses, breathing heavily, and said, "Oh,
my goodness."
Now she glanced back, knowing what she'd
see as she gazed at Luciano Mantovanni—who, of course, looked inordinately
pleased with himself.
Men are such boys, Erika thought. He's wearing that
"I did it!" expression.
She decided to sting a bit.
"If you'd stopped that time, I would've killed you,"
she told him reproachfully.
He only laughed… the movement jostled
him inside her, and she gasped in enjoyment, staggering again.
"Let's adjourn to the bed,"
Erika requested. "I don't think my knees can handle this."
He followed her into the next
room… and, despite herself, Erika couldn't help but
glance back. It was the first look she'd gotten of his lower body. It was as
strongly built as the rest of him. She turned away before giving any reaction
at all.
Erika smiled secretly, and blushed
slightly. She recalled girl talk, in which friends asserted that men, no matter
how attractive, simply looked foolish when aroused.
I don't give a damn if I'm in the
minority: I think every part
of him is handsome.
Well, I'm certainly not telling him right now… no
need for a contribution to
that ego.
They sat together on the bed, and he
suddenly confessed, "I knew you were close… that's why I stopped."
She gaped at him.
"I… I beg your pardon?"
He shrugged slightly, and looked a
little uncomfortable.
"I just had this desire to be
inside you the first time it happened between us. It's just… I don't know… proper… to me."
For a moment, she simply stared at him—then
smiled, genuinely, at the very earnest, almost reverent declaration.
"You know, Luciano Mantovanni…
you're the only man I've ever met who can be monolithically opinionated and
incredibly romantic simultaneously. That is
a nice sentiment. Thank you for wanting it to be that way between us."
Then she grinned saucily, and said,
"But you owe me one the other way,
now."
She saw that the captain was back for a moment; he arched a brow, and replied, "Aye, aye, sir." And she was
reminded just how strong he was for a second time, as he flipped her onto her
back…
…and very
satisfyingly paid off his debt.
Some time later, she wrapped her legs
around him, holding him inside her at the moment of his own first climax, and
realized, as she watched Cicero's face in that moment, that his sentiment was more than nice.
It was wonderful.
After a while, Erika Donaldson lost
track of time… lost count… lost her senses…
…and, she had to admit, lost more than a
bit of her heart, as well.
***
Erika
Donaldson asked herself, How do I get myself into these things?
Promptly,
another part of her laughingly, wickedly replied, Don't you mean, how do they get
into you?
She'd gone
back to Adventurous just after
fleet's dawn, and seen to their last day departure
requirements… but hadn't been able to resist returning to
Surprisingly,
Erika had found him still in his quarters…. then realized he'd probably done
much as she had, before returning for some solitude and contemplation.
Goodness knows I
can't stop thinking about last night, either.
"Hi."
He motioned
her to the chair across from him, and half-rose, courteously.
"Hi."
Suddenly,
there was tension between them again. For long moments, Mantovanni stared at
the chessboard, Erika stared at her hands, and no one said a thing.
Finally, the
pressure got to be too much.
"What
does last night mean for us, Cicero?
I'm not one for casual sex… and I don't think you are, either. But…"
He stirred,
and regarded her frankly.
"I can't
see the future, Erika. But I can tell you this… I'm not going to go out looking for anyone else."
That wasn't what she'd expected him to say.
With touches
of irritation and asperity, she pointed out, "OK. Does that mean I'll do,
for now? That statement's hardly a ringing endorsement of a relationship."
"It
wasn't intended so. I think the conventional idea of a 'relationship' is a
joke, to be honest. Either you care about someone, or you don't… it's as simple
as that."
For a moment,
she thought he was finished, but he caught her with his eyes… and held her with
their power.
"I
expressed my emotions last night, with my actions...
at least I thought I had. Did you feel used?"
Quietly, she
admitted, "No. I felt… appreciated… admired."
Maybe even, for the first time in a long
time, loved.
He smiled
minutely, and dryly added, "Well… there you go."
Whatever that
means, she thought.
She reached
for his hand, held it briefly…
…then, was
startled and touched when he brought hers to his lips. After a moment, she
pulled it back—unsettled, and still a bit uncertain.
She shivered.
How does he do that
to me?
Erika
steadied herself, and rose.
"Well, Adventurous is ready to depart… we're
supposed to veer off towards the Alpha Epsilon star system in about seven
hours. I should probably go."
Now he
regarded her oddly. His tone seemed cool.
"If you
think that's best."
He was so
difficult to read; she never knew quite where she stood.
Well, if he wants
me to leave, that's fine.
"All
right, then, Captain… if you'll excuse
me…"
As she
angrily headed for the door, she heard him say, "Erika."
Despite
herself, she turned back.
"You do know that I would have come looking
for a certain lady of my acquaintance… if she hadn't shown up here, that is?"
You would?
"Um… er…
of course I knew," she fibbed.
It was only
then that Erika Donaldson realized he didn't
want her to go… but rather, to do what would make her happy and comfortable.
The inscrutable son-of-a-bitch was just
being considerate.
I hate it when
he does that without letting me know first... and he never lets me know first.
"I can
stay for a while, if you like," she offered, then
silently chided herself, realizing the impression such a statement could give,
i.e., I deign to grant you a moment or two.
Fortunately,
he interpreted her words as they'd been intended—something she wanted, also.
Amused, he
responded, "Yes, I would
like," then shook his head, adding, "You are a proud and prickly one, aren't you, Erika
Donaldson?"
She had the
good grace to be discomfited.
A mumbled, "Yeah,"
was her initial response. Then, she added, "I'm sorry I misunderstood.
"I guess
I just don't know how to be happy for more than a few hours at a time."
"I'll
take that as a compliment," he told her drolly. When she examined him
quizzically, he clarified with a more sincere, "I'm glad I could help give
you a little happiness… at least for a while."
Would you listen to that.
Deep down, under all that ice and logic,
he really is a very sweet man.
Utterly incomprehensible… but very sweet.
It made her
care for him all the more.
Her sense of
relief was palpable… and with it, came a new awareness of her underlying
emotional and physical state. Erika moved purposefully back into the room: An extremely pleasant thought had just
occurred to her, and she inquired, while donning a rather naughty smile, “Care
to wile away a morning and afternoon, before we part company?”
He arched a
brow, and returned her smile: His were always understated, but no less
compelling for that.
“What did you
have in mind?” he asked, knowing full well.
She strolled
around the desk, idly pointing at the chess set.
“Well, you
won’t need that.” Erika then
surprised him by slipping onto his lap, and running her fingers across his
uniform.
“And you definitely won’t need this.”
“Well, I do have a lot of work...” He hadn’t,
however, made any attempt to escape.
She kissed
him softly, and whispered an impish, “You certainly do,
“So let's get to it.”
***
Erika Donaldson was a mature woman—if
not the very model of a modern starship captain, then perfectly capable of
decisions based on logic and carefully considered evaluation of evidence.
She also freely acknowledged, however,
that thought didn't have a lot to do
with certain choices.
Logically, she'd known she should just have said a fond farewell
via comm screen, rather than first seeking out Luciano Mantovanni, and then
initiating another assignation. But it had been a long time since she'd so thoroughly enjoyed a man—hell, it had
been a long time since she'd had a
man—and she wanted to experience those sensations again.
And, Erika conceded, she very much
wanted to experience them again with him.
Adventurous' captain had discovered, over the last few months, that she really
cared for Mantovanni—perhaps even too much. She refused to regret what
had happened last night… and took satisfaction in affirming the rightness of
her choice now.
Just a moment ago, he'd said something
about making her happy for a little
while; she was pleased to return the favor.
He didn't seem to mind; as a matter of
fact, she noted with a certain smugness that he was
wearing one of his rare smiles… and felt both a rush of warmth and a chill when
realizing it was for her.
Unbidden, she said, "Well, I'm just
glad you actually find me attractive."
He reared back slightly at her
self-effacing tone, and took gentle hold of her hand.
"Why wouldn't I?"
Rather than assuring him it was nothing
and attempting to recapture the fairy-tale feeling of the previous night, she
mentioned, "Well, I'm in my 40's,
Donaldson, in the next moments, almost
started to cry when his expression became at once kinder and more
determined.
"Well, all I can say is that you
must have been a goddess at 20, because you're sure as Heaven amazing
now."
His hands on her arms, his mouth on
hers, and the reaction from that part of a man which never lies lent
sincerity to his words.
You know… I don't care if what he just
said is bullshit… because it was the bullshit I needed to hear.
And the effort deserves one in return.
She sought his beltline, and tugged at
his trousers. He adjusted himself slightly, and Erika was able to easily pull
them down to his knees—thus freeing the object of her current interest.
Erika took gentle hold, caressing. She
might have caught him by surprise with her intentions, but he'd
responded—admirably.
"Oh, my! A salute… and
for a subordinate, yet."
He chuckled.
"Of course, neither of us
has really retained our military bearing over the last few hours."
There was something perilous about him
that, to this day, still on occasion had her
a little intimidated—except, strangely enough, when they were being intimate.
Then, and now, she felt more relaxed, able to tease and be teased in return: Erika couldn't remember ever having kept up a running commentary while so pleasuring a man,
and marveled at not feeling embarrassed while so doing.
"I
urgently request that you leave this aspect of performance out of my officer assessment, sir."
"Smart ass."
As she began to concentrate a little
more, Mantovanni closed his eyes and relaxed back into the chair.
Erika hadn't done this for him last
night… and, with the single-mindedness she brought to most tasks, was
determined to impress. She experimented light-heartedly, noting what pleased
him, and returning to those motions and actions time and again.
His breathing became labored…
…and, then, she took the opportunity to
stop.
When he looked at her with an expression
equal parts frustration and dismay, she couldn't help but give him a knowing
grin.
A little payback never hurt anybody.
She had to admit, though, he handled it
a little better than she had—After all, he's used to thinking on the fly…
scratch that… by the seat of his
pants… damn!…oh, skip it—reaching
forward and pulling Erika's uniform pants down over her hips, then holding her
steady as she removed first the boots, and then the trousers themselves.
"I take it you'll concede to moving
onto something else, Captain?" she inquired, smirking. Having the upper
hand with him was rare, and she reveled in it.
He'd already recovered his emotional
equilibrium, though, and countered with an easy, "Actually, isn't it you who's moving onto something?"
Damn it!… he got me again!
She straddled his lap, facing him… but
remained standing, drawing out the moment.
"Well… aren't you the tease?" he accused, smiling again.
Slowly, but
eagerly, Adventurous' captain lowered herself… and as she settled onto
him, and he into her, she sighed, and answered, "I'm not a tease,
Erika Donaldson kissed him gently as
they began to move, and added, "Today…
and only for you…
"…I'm a sure thing."