SoCS and #LoISInDaBl Day 21:”A Helluva Team”

Float down the Stream With Us!

Float down the Stream With Us!

For today, Bee‘s prompt is “you/me.  Linda‘s is “relative/relativity”And, yup – the Vulcan in my head, and the human who loves her, decided to hijack this post, too – rather delightfully, I think. I hope you agree!

Disclaimer: Although I believe T’Pol and Trip have their own ideas about it, Paramount claims ownership.

“Who’s that for?” Jon jabbed a finger at the tea.

“T’Pol.” I knew he wasn’t going to take it well, but the best option seemed to be brazening through. “And, if you’ll excuse me, Cap’n, I want to get it to her while it’s still hot.” I turned, and he barely got out of my way in time. I figured the hot liquids might be all that stopped him from decking me. Did I look and act this stupid, when my testosterone was up?

“From my observations, it seems to be endemic to your species.” But there was teasing acceptance behind her thought-message. “However, your possessiveness troubles me considerably less; perhaps it’s a relative matter, or that I am yours…”

“We talkin’ in our heads, now, pepperpot?”

“Yes. I would appreciate receiving my tea while its still hot.”

“Trip?” Jon was peering at me, now, as though he couldn’t decide whether to be mad or concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, Cap’n. Just an aftereffect of the meld, I guess. Didn’t know she could still talk to me.”

“What did she say?” There was a little too much emphasis on the ‘she’. I hoped like hell he was going to get over this possessive streak when he recovered from those Orion pheremones, because this wasn’t making adjusting to the bond, or that second bombshell she’d dropped, about needing to mate so she wouldn’t die, any easier.

“Said she likes her tea hot, and that I should get a move on.”

“T’Pol said that?”

“I could be paraphrasing.” I smiled. “She’s a helluva lot more formal than I am, after all.”

I got to the door, and Jon pushed the button, then followed me through. Any hope I had that he’d let it drop evaporated when he said, “Trip, what’s going on between you and T’Pol?”

I was at a loss – but then, words and ideas came into my head – a way to reveal just enough, without actually lying – or really answering the question. I surrendered to the master, and let myself be her conduit, lending her my own voice and tone. “Well, Cap’n, she’s too polite to say anything -“

“T’Pol’s not that polite, Trip. And I’ve never known her to hold back when she’s got something to say – any more than you do.”

“You and me, pepperpot – the loudmouths of the ship.” I found that more amusing than she did. To Jon, I said, “You’ve never been seduced by an Orion slave girl before, either, sir. But you have been now – and so have the rest of the men aboard – even, I’ve heard, the ones that don’t usually think of women as potential partners.” I had to admit, I felt sorriest for those guys – bad enough to be overwhelmed, but to be attracted to someone who would never normally turn your head – there was something cruel in that…

“Except you.” That was an accusation, pure and simple. “Why, Trip? T’Pol’s immune. You’re immune. Nobody else.”

“I’m not a doctor. If Phlox doesn’t know, how the hell am I supposed to? Maybe it’s that we work together a lot. Maybe it’s the neuropressure, or the melding – or even the dance lessons – I just don’t know.” We had our suspicions, but it was true that we didn’t know for certain that the bond was the reason. “Anyway – there’s been a lot of sexual frustration around lately, and a lot of fighting. And a lot of excess, angsty emotional energy floating around. She couldn’t hide from it while you weren’t able to do your duty, but she can now that you’re – more or less- functional again.”

“But she can tolerate you? Trip, when she first got here, I was damned near positive you were going to kill her. After I saw her fight a time or two, I was damned near positive she was going to kill you.” Finally, Jon cracked a smile.

“And now look at us. I’m bringin’ her tea, like I’m all civilized.” I felt T’Pol’s awareness sharpening – she could feel the punch line coming, even if she didn’t use those words. And she knew I was getting closer…I could feel her quiver of arousal humming back to life. “Lusty little pepperpot,” I thought to her, and something sinuous and swift passed through my mind, catlike and tempting. “But I’ll tell you a secret, Cap’n, if you promise not to tell her.”

“I promise.”

I grinned at him as we neared her door. “I’m just waiting till her back’s turned. I was the fastest short-sheeter in summer camp, and I’ll just bet Vulcan kids don’t pull pranks – hell, maybe they don’t even have summer camp – I mean, it’s a desert world, and all that…what would the counselors say -‘OK, kids, go jump in the sand dunes?'”

“Trip, I order you not to short-sheet Commander T’Pol’s bed.” Jon chuckled. We were at her door, now, and he pressed the button. He peered in; thankfully, T’Pol was sitting facing us, eyes open, but still in meditative pose. “Watch him, T’Pol – he’s got designs on your bedding. Dinner, nineteen hundred. Both of you. Enjoy your tea.”

T’Pol sighed deeply as she accepted her mug, her fingers lingering on mine, seductive in a way I’d never known, before her. “You handled that well, Trip.”

Me? Not all by myself. It was you and me, pepperpot.” It was tempting fate, but I couldn’t resist. I took those fingers, very carefully, and brushed my lips over the backs of her fingers. She moaned softly, trembling.

Like you said, Trip, we make a helluva team.”

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Looking for more Love Is In Da Blog? Find it right here! https://justfoolingaroundwithbee.wordpress.com/2015/02/08/love-is-in-da-blog-february-ping-back-post-rulessuggestions-week2/

 

#LoISInDaBl Day 20:”T’Pol Visits T’Mir”

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

 

For today, Bee‘s  prompt is “grandparents”. I had an essay in mind, but I live with this Vulcan woman in my head, and she had other ideas – and so, you get a vignette from T’Pol’s childhood…

Disclaimer: Although I believe T’Pol is a law unto herself, Paramount claims ownership.

Here, we have TMir, as a young woman on 1950s Earth…

“You will comport yourself appropriately at your first foremother’s home.” Mother was calm; I wondered at what age I would be able to control my responses to that degree. Or, perhaps, Mother had no emotional responses to control. It was logical to assume that the possibility existed. I wondered if it would be possible to devise an algorithm by which I might calculate the possibility. Certainly, that was a more interesting and useful pursuit than listening to her say the same things, in the same tone, in precisely the same order as she had ever other time I had come to stay with T’Mir.

I allowed my mind to sink into the puzzle as the groundcar angled up the final hills to the home of my oldest living ancestress…better that than reveal my ‘unseemly anticipation’.

“T’Pol, you are not attending to your mother’s directives with sufficient focus.” I blinked – when had we stopped?

“Yes, Father. Mother, I will do my best.” I gathered my bags and passed them to Father before disembarking.

“See that you do.”

That was all the parting I had from her. Father leaned in close to me, and something quick and alive flashed in his eyes. “May you find your time agreeable, daughter.”

Mother was already turning toward the groundcraft, and wouldn’t see. Had she planned this, to allow us this moment together? I didn’t know, but I pressed my fingers against Father’s in a filial ouz’hesta, attempting to memorize his bioeletric signature, so that I could hold it in my mind, during the time we would be apart.

And then he was turning to join Mother, and I was alone at the entrance to my first foremother’s sand garden. I opened the gate and passed within. It was too near zenith for T’Mir to be comfortable coming to greet me; she was very aged, and had grown frail.

“My T’Pol. Come, child, and let me relearn your face.”

It was pleasingly cool and dim inside; the candlelight made flickering shadows on the walls – and the shrunken woman seated before the bank of candles. My emotions became intense, and I hurried to her, eager for her touch, for her stories – for her acceptance of me, precisely as I was, always. For the learning she offered, of a people far away, a people most Vulcans found primitive, lacking the discipline of a mature culture, chaotic and dangerous.

Terrans.

I went to her, settled on my knees beside her.

“Will you allow me to touch you, T’Pol? My eyes no longer adjust well, after I’ve watched the flames.”

I had to focus on each word; here, when we were alone, we spoke only in English, the dominant language on Earth. She waited, blinking as she watched me. “Yes, T’Mir,” I said, when I was certain I understood her intent.

Her hands felt like desert breezes against my skin, and I breathed in the warmth of the touch, so different than Mother’s. “How can it be that a mother and daughter are so unlike one another?” I hadn’t meant to ask the question aloud, but there was nothing to be done, once it was said.

T’Mir’s breath released in some way I’d never heard from anyone else – was it something she had acquired, when she lived amongst the humans? “Are you thinking of the differences between me and my daughter, T’Pol – or yourself and your mother?”

“T’Les seems unlike both of us,” I replied.

“Humans have an expression: ‘Some things skip a generation’. Perhaps it is true, and there are things in my nature that I passed, through genetic inheritance, not to her, but instead, through her, to you.”

“Do you think it is so, T’Mir?” Her fingers trembled slightly; I was reminded again that she was very old, and couldn’t be expected to live much longer.

“Perhaps, child, and perhaps not. But it’s most agreeable to have you here with me, and know that you’re of like mind.”

“Tell me how I may serve you.” I wanted to do something for her; something that would, however illogically, allow me to forget her mortality, even if only for only a short time.

That strange breathing sound again. ” Simply be as you are, T’Pol. I live alone, most of the time, and I’m well capable of meeting my needs.”

“I -” I paused for a moment, attempting to choose the most precise human term to express my emotions. Terrans had a great diversity in such terms; it was something I wondered at. “I wish to serve you.”

“Ah, T’Pol. Such a serious child – do you know that children on Earth are seldom so? That play is often considered their main occupation?” Gentle fingers stroked my hair. “You will serve me best by being as you are, and doing what pleases you.”

“I will prepare tea,” I decided. But, as I went to her kitchen and tended to it, her words remained in my mind.

‘You will serve me best by being as you are, and doing what pleases you.’

As I watched the water carefully, so that no drop would be wasted, I wondered at the alien concept. Neither Mother nor Father, nor anyone but her, had ever asked me to consider what pleased me. Suddenly, with T’Mir’s statement, there seemed something amiss in that, that my life would be orchestrated without any consideration of my – my wishes.

But was that not the way of a Vulcan life?

Looking for more Love Is In Da Blog? Find it right here! 

 And the blooper fun as T’Pol entertains the humans who asked for a story- two hundred years later.

#LoIsInDaBl Day 12: Throwing It All Away

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Today, Bee‘s prompt is to write a short story about a love affair.  Since I’m working on developing the characters of Barry, Corinne, Exuberance, and Terrance for a novella project I’ll begin later in the year, I decided to write an exploratory story for them, based on a pivotal moment in Terry and Barry’s marriage.

**Warning: Potential emotional triggers and sporadic cursing.**

“You look sad, today, sweetie. Need someone to talk to?”

I nodded, and didn’t spend the effort it would take to turn around. We’d talked here, before, Exuberance and I, and she’d told me that, despite the cancer that seemed to crop up again each time she thought she’d beaten it back, she saved her energy for “the party, sweetie. Cause life’s always a party if you let it be, know what I mean?”

I’d told her that I could remember a time when I had, but that had been long ago.

I looked again at the cleft in the dunes where they had disappeared. It had been nearly half an hour, now, according to the Rolex Barry had given me so long ago, on our very first anniversary. When he disappeared into the cliffs with his sweet young treat, he’d been wearing a ridiculous Mexican shirt, and cutoff jeans that, despite being sixty-two, he managed to look natural in . Sweet young Corinne had given him a pookah-shell necklace, and he’d had that on, too, the long waves of his silver hair blowing back in the breeze in a way that made my heart hurt – and had nothing at all to do with the disease that was slowly choking the life out of it, and me.

“You’re looking for him – for them.”

I didn’t deny it.

She sat down beside me, uninvited, and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse, the slim kind Barry used to smoke; cloves, not tobacco. I could almost taste them, taste those early, heady kisses.

He’d never cheated. Not once -

But I had. Oh, yes. There had been men, and women, too. Every time I got depressed. No matter how hard Barry tried to be enough, to be everything I needed to hold against the hurt and the downward spiraling, the pressure that crushed me as though I were trapped under the slabs of heavy metals in my studio – the only thing that helped was to be with someone else, to throw myself into the first bed I came across, with anyone who would fuck me, any way they wanted to do it – just the way it had been, back when I was a kid, and didn’t know it could be different…

“You’re not garbage,” Barry whispered, every time I dragged my sorry ass home. Sometimes, I was bloody, or covered in the vomit of a debauch, and – nothing but human refuse, the way I always had been. And still he whispered, “You matter. To me, you are the treasure of a lifetime.” And he always washed me tenderly, even if I was still so wasted he had to do it on the floor, and put me to bed, crawling in with me, holding me while I cried and apologized, but inside I was laughing with joy that he had passed the test, again…

I’d orchestrated him and Corinne, because I was sure it would stay platonic – at least, until I died, and Barry sought comfort in his grief. He’d passed every test, after all…

Until now.

Down on the beach, they emerged – bare to the world they seemed to have forgotten. My throat clutched; and I gasped, my heart squeezed so tight I thought this might be it.

“Oh, Terrance. I’m so sorry.” Exuberance laid a hand on mine, her dark fingers against my pale skin, nails the same vibrant purple as her glittering cocktail gown – a rather ridiculous thing to be wearing in early afternoon, anywhere but here.

I looked away from the window, focusing only on Exuberance. I didn’t want to see the beauty of the two flushed bodies I knew so well juxtaposed upon one another- male and female, aging and ripening, my lover and my portrait model….

“Don’t know why I’m pulling these out; I only smoke them after, anymore.” Those long fingers began to stroke, their message clear, echoing her words with action. Her thigh brushed mine.

Unsure, still, I turned back to watch Barry and Corrine; they ran together into the surf, seeming like dolphins.

I was dying, and Barry was playing in the waves with a girl scarcely a woman, and young enough to be his granddaughter.

He’s abandoned me.”

“You can have all of this, Terrance, if you want it.” She was leaning in, making sure I could get a look down her low-cut neckline.

The old thrill raced through me, and I didn’t care, right now, about my ruined heart, or whether it might kill me to have sex. I was dying anyway, and Barry had found someone new to treasure.

Her hand drew mine slowly to the edge of the table, then past, to her thigh.

I hesitated. “No, not here. Will you come home with me, right now?”

“Lover, I’ve been hoping you’d ask since the day I first saw you!”

We left, her arm wrapped around my waist. I was ready to throw myself away again – and this time, Barry wasn’t going to be there to clean up my messes.

And I planned to create a disaster. Maybe, if I was lucky, one that would kill me.

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#WOW and #LoIsInDaBl Day 11: “Invention and Revelation”

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

The prompt for Write On Wednesday at Story a Day this week is Inventor’s Day. Meanwhile, Bee’s prompt for Love Is In Da Blog is trans. I’ve combined the two to create this flash story; using characters from an upcoming project.

“And you invented it?” I was struck by his dark eyes, sparking off glints of gold and green. He was a beautiful man, and I had to focus on his words to keep from getting lost in fantasies of what it would be like to bring him home and make the things I was imagining real.

I shrugged. “Most of the time, I don’t even think about it anymore.”

“But still -you invented something that people so useful, it’s changed the face of commuters all over.” There was interest in his eyes – at least, I thought it was interest. Hoped. Feared. Something about this sculptor pulled at me in a way I’d never felt before.

“Well, be that as it may, it’s not going to get us through this meeting…” I was a businessman, now, not an inventor. Time I remembered that. It was a defense, like the suit and tie I wore to work every day…a little piece of armor that would shield me from this powerful. dangerous attraction.

Terry smiled. “All right, Mr. Businessman. We’ll play it straight, for now.” But the way he was looking at me gave it a deeper meaning, and said that he’d seen right through me.

The way that made my heart pound was downright dangerous. The way his eyes scanned up and down my body was even more so.

I cleared my throat, and hoped that he would take my lead. This was a conservative firm; there was no room here for the type of extracurricular activity we’d been circling around since our first meeting three weeks ago. Or for my truth. I needed to remember that. “At our last meeting, we narrowed down the lobby centerpieces to five choices. The planning committee eliminated two. So, we’re down to three finalists.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“Romulus and Remus – but I’m having a little trouble imagining it in the space.”

Terrance smiled . “Why don’t you come down to my studio – it’s a space nearly the same size as your lobby, and it might help you decide. After, I’d love to treat you to dinner.” His voice was soft- with a rasp of desire in it.

I took a deep breath, and plunged in. “I’ll be finished for the day at six. Is that too late for you?”

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling merrily. “I’ll tell you a secret, Barry.” Dangerous, the way my name sounded, caressed by his lips. “This is early for me. I’m at my best overnight.” He winked, and rose, wrapping strong callused hands around his travel mug, which he lifted in salute. “See? Your invention has changed my life, too.”

Romulus and Remus as infants. Public domain image via Wikimedia Commons.

“Somehow, I knew you’d choose Romulus and Remus,” he said, and his grin now wasn’t at all ambiguous. He was even more compelling, here in his own domain.

“The lines are classic and clean, and the style innovative; I think the board will be satisfied with the way it looks in the space.” I loved the way the two chrome men intertwined as they wrestled. They looked like water come to life.

We sat at a table on a balcony overlooking the sculpture. We’d feasted on rack of lamb and the trimmings, and were now sipping coffee over creme brulee. Barry looked at me over the rim of his mug. “So, are you going to tell me how you invented the travel mug, Barry?”

This was it – my chance to speak my truth. I could put it off. He might never notice anything different about me; I could keep my secret, and protect myself. But there was something about him, and about me, since I’d met him. I thought that we could be more than lovers – maybe much more. But, if I began with a secret, what would that mean?

I decided to tell the truth. “When I was in college, I took the subway everywhere. I also practically lived on coffee. I would grab it at the corner cafe near my apartment, and carry it in one of those lidded paper cups – and my hands were always full.”

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“It was. One day, someone bumped me, and I ended up with hot coffee in my lap.”

“Painful.” Terry grimaced, and I knew this was it – now, before we took the next step hovering between us.

“More than you know. I’d had the first stage of my reassignment surgery only three weeks before, and I was still very tender. It was a powerful motivator to come up with a better alternative.” I toyed with my fork, and stared at my dessert.

“Reassignment.” The word hung there, as though he needed to taste it to understand. Finally, he said, softly, “Then – you used to be – “

“Miserably living in a woman’s body.”

A long pause; I concentrated on breathing.

“You didn’t need to tell me.”

At his tone, I looked at him. “If we’re going where I think we are, Terrance, I don’t want to start with a lie – even one of omission.”

He rose and came to kneel beside me. ” Barry – I’ve wanted you since we met. If you’ll have me – “

He leaned in, offering himself – and there was no need to say anything else.

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Romulus as an adult warrior. Public domain image via Wikimedia Commons.

WIPpet Wednesday: “…Claim Me As Your Valentine”

Do you like to WIPpet?

 

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys! First up – I’ll be in Oregon next week and  the one after.  I’ll schedule my posts, but might not  get back to answer comments or visit.  I’m gonna miss you guys!

Guess who’s back, just for this week, to tempt and tease?

Disclaimers: T’Pol, Trip, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful! Ive done my best to extrapolate without violating series canon.

This snippet from The IDIC Romance, my Star Trek: Enterprise fan fiction, occurs during the climactic Season 3 episode, Zero Hour – February 14, 2154.  After a year of trauma, rifts,  and personal crisis,  TnT are finally growing closer again. T’Pol just floored Trip with a sudden and irresistible seduction…and now, the aftermath…and after the snippet, I’ve got another sweet treat for you! <3

WIPpet Math:

  • Today is February 11, 2015.
  • Math: None, except that it’s a Valentine’s Day story….and you’re welcome.

Warnings: A mite spoilery, as in we see some of how the relationship might progress. Also quite first-drafty.

T’Pol recovered herself to find Trip was watching her. He seemed both very pleasantly surprised, and worried. Perhaps other things, as well.

“You feel so much, at once. Doesn’t it confuse you?”

“You’ve met me, right?” He grinned, but studied her closely. “I’m doing this a bit ass-backwards, but, are you OK? You had me scared for a minute or two, there – I think you fainted – and then you made me forget that I was scared…”

“I am – perhaps more ‘OK” than I have been in – in far too long.” She pulled him in for another deep kiss. “I have missed this…t’hy’la.”

“Mind if I point out that you could have had it, anytime?”

“Only if you will accept my word that it’s not true in the sense you believe.”

“I’m suddenly getting the idea that there’s a lot I don’t know here.” His touch was gentle, and his concern deepened. “Am I making things worse again?”

“You are offering perhaps the deepest of healing.”

**

She meant it. He could almost feel it – the release of all that desperate control, the crumbling of the walls she’d held.

He wanted to charge in, storm the castle, and claim the lovely princess for his own…

But this was no fairy tale – and she’d been through hell – might still be in hell, even now, beneath the flush of release. At best, she was fragile – and in command. Aww, hell.

Trip found himself chuckling. “The Captain expects you to keep me in line, remember?”

“Perhaps, then, I should evaluate your performance, and give him a comprehensive report?”

“Aww, pepperpot.” He embraced her, settled her head on his shoulder, and sighed. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Damned if he was even gonna try to pin her down on this one. Nope. This time, he was just gonna enjoy the moment, and not try to make one thing out of it that it wasn’t. Besides, soon, she was going to get up and get back to work – and he wanted her to be able to do that without worrying about him.

Now, she craned her neck to look at him upside down. “You’ve used that appellation before. I find myself – most curious as to its origin.”

“Good. ‘Bout time I had you wondering about something, ‘stead of the other way ’round. Hey, what time is it?”

She glanced at her monitor, and then he felt her start to gather herself. “We were due in the Command Center fifteen minutes ago,” she said, and stretched against him with a decadence that made him groan. “We are quite late – I had forgotten.” And still, she didn’t quite seem to be able to pull herself away ….she kissed him again, and her paired fingers caught at his, in that delightful kissing that didn’t look like kissing, and her quiver made him wish, for a minute, that they were the two lowest peons in the chain of command, instead of the highest.

She seemed to have forgotten again, already, judging by her dreamy-sultry eyes. “Hey, pepperpot?”

“Mmmn?”

“You. Me. Clothes. Work.” He held her shoulders and formed each syllable distinctly; she seemed to need that. Whatever had broken down those walls she’d had up for so long seemed to have her feeling a hell of a lot more than thinking, and he hoped he hadn’t made it impossible for her to do her job.

T’Pol actually made a face as though she’d eaten an especially tart lemon whole. She met his eyes; hers held a teasing light. “Awww, hell.”

That sent Trip into raucous laughter; she gave him that special little head tip that said she thought his sanity was in serious question, and got up smoothly – just as the comm signaled. “Bridge to T’Pol.”

“Damn, pepperpot – they caught you.”

“This is true.” She walked, stark naked and delicious, to the comm. “But only you, Trip, can claim me as your Valentine. T’Pol here.”

She was all business as she acknowledged the call – except for that smoldering way she was looking at him, and the brazenness of the way she stood there, unabashedly nude.

What‘s next? Will their tryst be discovered? Will T’Pol actually write an evaluation for the captain? Will Trip be able to resist a naked and smoldering Vulcan who’s finally open to passion again?

Well, you’ll have to keep guessing, at least for a while…but I did promise another surprise, and here it is:

Write1 Sub1: Bye, Bye January! SWAG: Hello, February!

Now that January is over, and February underway, it’s time for me to report in on my Write1 Sub1 writing challenge. This is a challenge based on the writing philosophy of science fiction writer Ray Bradbury, who wrote, revised, and submitted a story a week. I’m not Mr. Bradbury, so I opted for the monthly challenge this year – a story written, and one submitted, every month (not likely to be the same story).

Writing and Submitting stories every month.

 

Here’s my January tally:

Write1 (2.5):

  • Began my “official” story, “Terry Acosta”, a story that will develop a third character for a novella I will be writing in April. Draft about halfway complete.

Sub1: (1):

  • I revised my existing short story, “Monday Morning Coffee”, and submitted it to World Unknown Review. This may be the first chapter in a novella; I’m not certain quite yet. I should know by June; the deadline for 2015 submissions is October 31. If I’ve written another story or two for this project by June, I will pursue it as a novella; if not, I will allow the story to stand alone, and potentially develop it further at a later point in time.

Getting My SWAG – Serious Writers Accountability Group

SWAG February Goals:

As we get closer to Story-A-Day May 2015, I finally checked out Julie Duffy‘s Serious Writers Accountability Group. It’s a simple idea; just state a simple goal to accomplish this month; and then report my progress on the first of March.

So, here’s my three very simple SWAG goals for February:

  • Revise “Slow Jazz Awakening,” the compiled version of the first three of my Star Trek: Enterprise fan fiction stories I wrote on May 1-3, 2014, for Story a Day May.
  • Review character and background materials for The IDIC Romance, in preparation for this year’s Story-A-Day May.

And that’s it. I like these small micro-goals, because they help me to focus on specific elements of my larger goals.

How about you? Are you a fan of challenges large and small? Why or why not? What’s the most interesting/most unsuitable challenge you’ve participated in? Did you see it through, or bow out? Why? (I know, I ask that a lot. I’m the nosy sort!).

SoCS and JusJoJan Day 31: Dance Lessons?

SoCS and JusJoJan Day 31: Dance Lessons?

Merrily Down the Stream…

Today’s SoCS post is “scene/seen”. It reminded me of Annalise, who, at about 5, was often an imaginary animal known as a Seen. It hid a lot, and, when spotted, gave a startled, big-eyed stare.

There’s no Seen in this story, but there’s dancing – allegedly, anyway. It takes place shortly after the events in my story “Inter-Species Relations” – in Star Trek: Enterprise series canon, after the episode “Bound”. You don’t need to have read or watch those, to understand this. I did edit a bit for length and clarity – couldn’t help myself! =D

Disclaimer: Archer, T’Pol, Trip, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful!


**Big Ole SPOILER ALERT for all kindsa stuff!**

Captain Jonathan Archer paced Enterprise‘s corridors – nearly deserted, as everyone dealt with the aftereffects of the womens’ too-potent pheremones. Well, everyone but T’Pol and Trip. Vulcan physiology had worked in the first officer’s favor, this time. But Trip – Trip usually found trouble faster and better than anyone else in the crew. How he’d managed to slip by this time…

Did it have to do with T’Pol?

And why did that make him feel jealous, even to think about?

Because you still want her, Jon. You might even love her.

He remembered her on the Forge, calmly telling him she’d had an enormous, carnivorous pet as a child, and her defensive, “You have Porthos.” Just like her, to compare a sehlat – the most ferocious predator Jon had seen on any world he’d been on yet – to his gentle little beagle.

She was pretty damned ferocious, herself, these days. All those emotions trellium-D had loosed in her, emotions she now had to live with – she was turning them into tools, or sometimes weapons, like bladed Vulcan lirpa. She’d clutched her dying mother ferociously, struggling to hold back her tears – and, when she failed, it had gone straight to his soul to see how fiercely she sobbed, and how fast she yanked herself back to business; back to trying to protect him.

She was the strongest, smartest, stubbornnest, and most sensual woman he’d ever known.

“It’s just sexual frustration, Jon,” he told himself for the fourth time. “Phlox said to expect it. “

But he knew it was more, and had been for a long time now.

He sighed and stopped at the nearest interface. “Computer. Isolate and locate Commander T’Pol.” The only way he was going to get any peace was by talking to her, getting it all out in the open. And maybe – she was hard to read, but he thought, maybe –

The computer showed him the only Vulcan biosign on the ship. She was in the Conference Room; he knew she went there sometimes, to be alone. Perfect. Better than trying to sneak into her quarters without being seen, and having her tell him again that her neighbors were discreet. He’d never dared ask her how she knew. He was disturbed by the implications.

He didn’t announce himself. He wanted to see the first expression on her face when he came in – if there was a clue, that’s when he would see it – before she had a chance to suppress it. A small window, and one he’ lose if she knew he was there before the door opened…

It seemed to take forever-

“T’Pol, I – ” Whatever he had been going to say was lost as he began to absorb the scene. “What the hell-?”

Slowly, two heads – one blonde, one dark – separated, and turned to him. Hazel eyes and blue, seeming to be somewhere else, looked at him, but he wasn’t sure they really saw him at all. Trip had an arm slung low over T’Pol’s back, his hand casually curving over her hip. One of her hands was against the side of Trip’s face.

They were melding.

“Dance lesson, Cap’n,” Trip said, with a little shrug. He didn’t let her go. T’Pol rested her head against his chest, but didn’t drop her hand. Jon thought she looked very comfortable. They both did. “Apparently, I’m a lousy teacher any other way.”

“No music,” Jon said stupidly.

“All in my head.” T’Pol’s eyes were eloquent. “What did you want, Cap’n? Lady wants to learn to dance.”

Jon couldn’t say it, not in front of Trip. Was this just a dance lesson between friends, or something more? Was that why Trip was immune, because T’Pol was melding with him? She’d been afraid to try it with Hoshi, but she seemed very relaxed now. How long had they been doing this?

It was none of his business.

And he was jealous as hell. He would’ve happily taught her to dance – if he knew how.

“Lots of ways to dance without being so – “

“So what?” Leave it to her not to understand.

“So close together.”

“We must be close enough to meld.”

Logical. He should’ve known she’d have a logical reason even for this. Was it that innocent?

“Did you require something of me, Captain?”

“What? I – uhh – ” Jon grabbed for an excuse for walking in on whatever the hell this was that looked like way more than a dance lesson. “Dinner. I wanted to invite you - both – to dinner tonight.”

“I planned to pass the evening in meditation.”

“I haven’t really unpacked yet.”

“I can make it an order, Commanders. Dinner. Captain’s Table. 1900 hours. No excuses.” He started to turn away, then spun back – hoping to catch them at something, or hoping not to?

They looked back innocently. T’Pol’s hand was still right where it had been.

They were waiting for him to leave, so they could be alone.

“And, Commanders?”

“Sir?”

“There’s no dancing during dinner.” But, he thought, as he got out with something like dignity, there would be some answers to what was going on between his First Officer and his Chief Engineer.

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