Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of Paramount/Viacom. This story is the property of and is copyright (c) 1977 by Karen Fleming. Originally published in Obsc'Zine #1, edited by Lori Chapek-Carleton. Rated R.


Uhura's Fantasy

by Karen Fleming


Shifting a little in her seat, Uhura glanced at her chronometer. Shit! Three hours and not a single incoming signal! She wished fervently for a chance to call someone -- anyone! -- just to chat for a while. The patterns of light and color on her board shifted and played with one another lazily as other ship-members used the system without coming through her station. After a while the colors tended to blur and fade into each other as she sat just watching their psychedelic display.

With a sigh, she turned around to watch her crewmates. Spock was bent over his viewer, completely immersed in something in the computer -- she snickered, Mental masturbation? To each his own. Beyond the Captain's chair, Sulu and Chekov were going through maneuvers on their consoles -- tthe lucky stiffs! They appeared to be enjoying making a game out of the Helm-Navigation strategy drill. The Captain was slouched in his chair, head resting unceremoniously on his hand, deep into one of the innumerable reports that passed through his hands -- probably on its way to some bureaucratic wastebasket! He heaved a sigh and adjusted the viewer's scanner to another section of the report. Comrade in boredom! Uhura smiled sympathetically.

We should go away together, Captain. Where? Your quarters? Mine? The corners of her mouth curved up in a wicked smile. erotic ... As long as it's my treat … Let's make it some place exotic … dark, cozy … with an ornate bed thickly covered with sheets and pillows of satins and pseudo-furs!

She imagined his face as she had seen it on various occasions -- sometimes very matter-of-fact-like; but that wouldn't do at all! Not for what she had in mind. His eyes -- so expressive -- now bright, almost laughing, mirroring a smile that could make a lady's heart stutter to itself. Now warm, moist, sensual -- Umm, almost got it ... but a little more … lust.

She could see him now standing buck naked in front of her, fire in his eyes and a firm, thin smile on his lips, gently pulling her down with him onto the bed, tugging at the flap of her uniform ... Uniform? She considered it a split second and blinked it away. His hands were moving teasingly over her body ... No. Something more exotic ...

She was hanging -- not really hanging -- her bare feet rested firmly on a carpeted floor, but her wrists were caught above her head in manacles attached to the wall behind her. Past her in another room was The Bed.

Uhura put Kirk in front of her again and let him reach for her. No. Still something missing! She looked him up and down -- then glanced around her, above her, at the manacles, the cold steel locked around her wrists. When she looked back at Kirk she found the missing key to her restraints dangling from a chain around his neck.

She welcomed the pleasant sensation of his body moving against hers as his deft, eager fingers stroked her, searching out every curve and crevice ... Still not quite ...

His breath was hot on her nipple as he tongued it into a hard knot on her aching breast, sending tendrils of excitement to throb at the mouth of her vagina. She whimpered, shuddering under the onslaught of his mouth and hands -- his strong, frenzied hands knead her buttocks, prying into the crevice between her legs. Heat flowed from him in waves, perspiration pouring from him until he glistened and his damp hair curled into little ringlets. Her breath now came in gasps. She was writhing against him, violently, enjoying the firm maleness of him, the sheer power living in his body, the sweet-savage sound of the breath rattling through his throat ...

"Lieutenant." The sound was distant.

"Lieutenant Uhura." Now it seemed louder, more insistent.

She shook off the smothering sensuality and pulled herself back into the real world. Spock was standing over her station.

"Are you all right, Lieutenant?"

She swallowed the lump building in her throat and shook her head in a series of short jerks. "Yes, sir!"

"Then I suggest you remain alert at your station."

"Aye, sir!" A quick scan of the console told her that it was still disgustingly quiet. In desperation she turned in her seat to see what the rest of the crew were up to now and came eye to eye with Kirk. He was watching her, a quizzical look in his eyes and a half-smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

God! He can't know…! Feeling warmth flood her face, she spun back to her console, wanting to punch touch-plates, twist dials, open an access panel and crawl inside -- do anything but just have to sit, quietly feeling suddenly transparent. She concentrated on breathing slowly, steadily, until her racing heart fell into a more normal rhythm.

Spock! She shot a glance at the Vulcan, who now appeared to be completely engrossed in his work. He wouldn't know! Vulcans don't pry! With difficulty, she successfully fought down an urge to look back at Kirk.

After a moment she heard a click from the viewer on the Captain's chair and the rustle of cloth and a squeak from the chair as he got up. His voice sounded tired. "You have the con, Mr. Spock. It was almost a ritual leave-taking – with the First Officer's answer, "Aye, Captain." Uhura let herself sneak a glance at Kirk as he passed her post. He didn't even look in her direction, leaving her with a confusingly mixed feeling of disappointment/relief. She sighed. The chronometer stubbornly insisted that the watch wasn't even half over. Shit! It would be a long day!