Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of Paramount/Viacom. This story is the property of and is copyright (c) 1977 by Toni Cardinal-Price. Originally published in The Sensuous Vulcan, D.T. Steiner, editor. Rated NC17.
Mr. Spock … Would You Care to Dance?
Watching him from across the room now, she was abruptly drawn back to that one night, seventeen years ago, and events she could never have foreseen...
* * *
She had been twenty then, and the very spoiled daughter of a Federation ambassador. There was a party that night also, some diplomatic occasion, she couldn't quite remember what for, and she and her sister, Adreen, had stood off from most of the crowd, observing the people with disdain. Diplomatic affairs were stuffy, boring, and the guests were usually the same.
And then they had spotted the Vulcan.
both seen him before, and knew he was a student at the
As the party progressed, she and Adreen continued to watch the Vulcan. He stood in a corner alone, seemingly out of place with his surroundings. After a while, Adreen made the dare, and because she was slightly drunk, she accepted.
She walked across the room then, and stood in front of the tall alien, appraising him boldly with steel-grey eyes. The Vulcan glanced at her oddly, then gave a slight bow of greeting.
"I'm Trista Martine," she said abruptly, introducing herself. "And you...?"
"Spock," he answered simply, evenly.
Spock," Trista returned, smiling broadly. "I'm
very glad to meet you. There's been quite a, lot of talk about you from the
The young Vulcan before her lifted one eyebrow gracefully in modest acknowledgement.
Trista's smile widened. "And especially impressive, considering your age. You're only twenty, aren't you?"
"Nineteen point zero five of your Earth years," Spock replied.
"Almost a matched set. I wonder if we'd fit! " Trista giggled. At his nonplussed expression, she continued, "But you're still only a Vulcan child then ... compared to the statistics of your race." Her grey eyes twinkled teasingly as she saw the Vulcan shift position, and she knew she had succeeded in embarrassing him. "Mr. Spock..." she said after a moment's silence, "would you care to dance?"
The surprise on the Vulcan's face was plainly readable and he cleared his throat once before answering. "I...do not dance," he stated evenly.
"Oh. You mean...you don't know how?" Trista pressed with mock innocence.
"No. Vulcans do not ... familiarize themselves with that form of entertainment," Spock explained hesitantly.
"I see." Trista returned. "But you're half-Human, though, aren't you?"
"Yes, on my mother's side."
"Well, then..." she continued, reaching out and putting her arm through his, "...there's no reason why you shouldn't learn. I'll teach you." And before the Vulcan could object, she led him out of the room, to a small garden patio. "There ... no one will notice us here," she said, turning to face the Vulcan. She put one arm around his waist.
"Madam...I do not think..." Spock protested weakly, drawing away. He looked at her uneasily. "perhaps we should return to the party."
"Nonsense" Trista retorted, taking his hand again. "Come on ... we'll go down the path a short way and no one will see us." She glanced back at him and giggled. "My ... that does sound suggestive, doesn't it?"
"I...I beg your pardon?" Spock stammered.
"Oh, never mind. Come on!" And clutching his hand she led the Vulcan down the path a short distance. "Now," she said, turning into his arms, "let me teach you." And she watched, amused, as the Vulcan's dark eyes widened with startled shock. Trista held his hand firmly, refusing to let him draw away. She danced a few steps, but Spock remained stiffly in his place. After a moment, he took a deep breath which caught in his throat as Trista pressed suddenly closer to him. "You see," she whispered, a teasing glint in her eyes. "It's not all that difficult, Mr. Spock. All you have to do is relax and enjoy it."
The Vulcan shuddered outwardly and made another weak attempt to draw away ... and failed. Trista' s hand reached up then, very slowly, and touched Spock's thin face, playing over the outline of his nose and lips, and tracing one delicately pointed ear. Spock closed his eyes in discomfort.
"You're very different," Trista sighed softly, her breath quickening. "And very, very... appealing."
"Madam..." Spock started hesitantly.
"And I bet you've never even been...kissed by a female before."
"Madam...I believe we should..."
"Relax, Mr. Spock," Trista said, pressing against him. "I'll teach you...everything." She reached up suddenly, abruptly, and touched her lips to his.
It was astonishing...she fully expected the Vulcan to push her away, to disapprove of her action. And yet, he made no movement at all, except for the trembling that quaked his body as her arms encircled him. He was unresponsive to her kiss, but as she drew back, she heard his breathing become erratic, and read the confusion in his eyes. She knew he was inexperienced, and to a degree frightened, and had probably not related to women much at all, being a Vulcan adolescent. That thought excited her and urged her to continue, and her hands slowly worked their way up his chest and around his neck as she remained against him. She kissed him again, a long demanding kiss, and pried against his lips with her tongue. Spock drew back, his eyes regarding her with alarm.
"Perhaps...perhaps we should...go back inside," he said hoarsely, breathlessly.
Trista pulled back slightly also, and her hands moved to his waist. "Are you sure you really want that?" she whispered.
Spock hesitated then, and drew in a very deep breath before shaking his head. "No," he managed finally, his voice a low moan.
She took his hand and drew him off the path then, to an area surrounded by trees. Silently, she pulled him down to the soft grass and pressed against him until he lay back. Wordlessly, Trista hands began exploring him eagerly, and Spock trembled beneath her touch. A small groan escaped his lips when her fingers found the growing bulge in the front of his pants. Her eyes darted to look at his, and she smiled in triumph. "All right, Mr. Spock," she said finally, tauntingly. "Now let me really show you how to dance."
With experienced hands, she quickly removed his clothing and then sat back, her eyes marveling at his impressive erection. She reached out surely and encircled the quivering spear of flesh with her fingers.
A moan escaped him again, a deep guttural sound, and his body twitched in reaction.
"Relax, " Trista soothed, her fingers making slow stroking motions up and down the shaft of his penis. "Just relax...I'll teach you."
Spock's eyes watched her with a mixture of misery and longing. Hesitantly, he reached out one hand and touched her arm. "I...do not know...what pleases a woman," he admitted meely. "I'm not sure what I should..."
'Don't worry, Trista interrupted, her smile widening as she continued to stare at his massive hard-on. "You have exactly what would please any woman!" Slowly, she bent her head to his groin.
"No!" The cry was released from him in a whisper as the wet warmth of her mouth moved to encompass his quivering flesh. His hand tightened on her arm.
Trista drew back and flashed angry eyes at him. "Hush! I'm not hurting you! Will you just relax a little?" she demanded. "You'll enjoy it if you just give it a, chance!"
"But...if someone should come..." the Vulcan objected.
"Oh, someone will come, all right!" Trista returned, a giggle escaping her. "And if we're real lucky...it'll be us!" And she lowered her mouth to his penis once more.
It was delicious. His penis swelled and throbbed as her tongue washed over it. Her hands gently squeezed and prodded his testicles, and played with the dark pubic hair as her mouth probed, searched, explored the different tastes of his genitals. After a few minutes, she felt one of Spock's hands resting firmly on the back of her head, encouraging her to continue.
She did … for a long while, until she felt the extent of her own passion damp between her legs. The desire to feel him inside her was unbearable, and she drew back her head finally, and pulled her dress up to throw it off. Her pants were tossed aside hastily, and she stared down at the dark figure before her.
Spock lay there quietly, eyes tightly shut, his face drawn in a grimace as he fought to contain the mounting pressure in his loins. Moving on top of him, Trista reached down until her fingers found his upright cock once more, and she guided it to her now-soaked vagina. She eased herself down. Spock's eyes shot open with a look of momentary panic, but Trista's lips stopped any attempted protest.
And then it was ecstasy.
Her hips rotated and pressed against him, driving him deeper. With smooth, sure motions, she rode his body like a giant wave, sliding up and back until every breath the Vulcan emitted held a. small moan of pleasure. His massive organ filled every inch of her, to the point where it was almost painful, but she continued to press him deeper...deeper, until she was sure she would burst.
And then, suddenly, their movements became urgent, erratic, and the pleasure-cries came from both their lips, muffled as they buried their faces in the haven of each other's neck.
The explosion. A white-hot sun going nova in the night. The flood from his body ignited inside her, then washed out to rest in a sticky stream between them.
"How old did you say you were?" Trista asked breathlessly when she finally regained her speech.
"Nineteen point zero five Earth years," Spock panted, still in mild shock.
"Jeeze..." Trista exhaled heavily. "Are you gonna be one helluva lay when you grow up!"
* * *
Her mind snapped abruptly back to the present and she was immediately aware of the rapid beating of her heart, and the quivering of her body. Her eyes darted quickly to the corner and she breathed a sigh of relief.
He was still there. There was no reason why he should remember, Trista thought, as she started across the room. Seventeen years was a long time, and she had not seen him since that one, glorious night.
As she drew closer, she saw the Vulcan's eyes move to focus on her, For a moment the dark eyes remained blank, disinterested. Then recognition dawned along with startled shock.
Trista stopped in front of him and smiled: "Mr. Spock," she said softly, tilting her head in greeting. "It's been a long time. How nice to see you again after all these years."
The Vulcan bowed his head formally, then his eyes again met hers. "Madam," he said quietly, with a deep voice. "This is indeed a pleasure."
Trista's grin widened, and in the depths of the Vulcan's dark eyes, she read a myriad of expressions. On an impulse she said, "Mr. Spock...would you care to dance?"
That one exquisite eyebrow climbed into the black hairline above, and something flashed and glistened in his eyes. Then a very small grin touched his lips. "Ms. Martine..." he said finally, his voice smooth as velvet, "...I believe I would like that very much."
And putting her hand on the Vulcan officer's arm, Trista smiled triumphantly as they walked toward the garden patio.