DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Kella and is copyright (c) 2000 by Kella. This story is Rated NC-17 for sexually suggestive language and behavior.



Saturday Night at the Pon Farr Palace

(or "Mister Spock's Escort Service"...)



Kella



Christine sighed, pacing the length of her chambers. It was an extravagant suite and she relished every velvet inch of it. However, the most she could seem to do with it at the moment was wear a hole in the ornate rug on the floor, pacing the distance between the walls of, what seemed to her at the moment, her prison.

He was three hours late.

She sighed again, plopping back on her love seat, toying with the tassels on the arms and wishing that she was having the most incredible sex right now. She could only wait, though, since Spock was busy doing the book work on Uhura's totals for the evening.

Damn Spock and his entrepreneurial urges. They were primitive, to say the least. Who would have thought he'd have had it in him? She and the rest of the Enterprise crew had been surprised when they'd crash landed on this alien world, cut off from Federation contact and help, and Spock had slowly thrown away logic and developed an emotion. They had been positively shocked when he'd set up a harem there to keep them financially supported. *Financially supported, my ass,* she thought. *He just enjoys seeing me and the rest of the crew get naked for others.*

She restlessly got up from the small couch and walked to the window, where a rotating holographic sign flashed the words "The Pon Farr Palace" in 3-D neon. She looked down at her hand, where the glow from the lights outside cast an eerie shade to the jade and silver ring she wore on her middle finger. She rarely wore jewelry, but she'd made an exception when Spock had given her the ring as a "bonus" one evening. His highest-grossing employee, he'd called her. She snorted in irony. What did it say about her to be Employee of the Month at an escort service?

The door chime rang and she flipped her hair over one shoulder, not bothering to turn to face the door. "Come."

She heard the hiss of the door as it slid aside... Heard his ragged breathing, a sure sign of his arousal and expectancy of immediate fulfillment. She didn't turn, but instead allowed him to come to her. Slowly, heated skin pressed against her bare backside, fingers toying with the strap on her "barely-there" top, burgeoning stiffness pushing against her buttocks.

Coolly, she just stood there, waiting, as he ran his hands around her waist, bringing them up to fondle her breasts and tweak her nipples. His fingers caressed the ring she had in one nipple ... the one he'd made her put in "to make her more exotic". His tongue darted out to taste her earlobe and the silver rings in it.

Although she certainly felt her body responding to his touches, she said simply, "Tough day?"

"Indeed. However, I'm sure yours was far rougher..."

He tried to turn her to face him, but she remained planted in front of the window, teasing him. "If you keep sending me those fat, drunk bastards, Spock, I'm either going to demand to leave or a higher rate of pay."

He forced her to turn finally and he looked into her crystal blue eyes, a grin splitting his bearded face. "I have *other* plans, Christine."

"Oh?" she said, pretending disinterest.

He knew she was playing games with him, and even partially enjoyed them. "Yes. I am having someone else take over your clients from now on."

"Really?" she replied, actually curious. "What new clients will I be working with?"

"You will not," he continued slowly.

"What?"

"You will be mine only."

She couldn't speak for a moment, then, "Why this all of the sudden, Spock?"

"You do not wish this?"

"Y-yes, I-I mean..." she stammered, her cool facade slipping away.

He quirked an eyebrow at her loss of control. "Does this mean that the game has ended?"

"Oh, fuck you, Spock," she said playfully, batting at his shoulder.

He caught her hand and brought it to his groin. "That was my intention, Christine."

As he captured her mouth with his, she sensed him reaching into one of the pockets of his tunic. Breaking away from the kiss, she saw he was holding a velvet box. He opened it; inside were two piercing rings, as well as what looked like wedding bands. "Christine..." he began huskily.

"Shh," she cut him off, kissing him gently on the lips.

He raised the box, lifting one of the piercing rings from it. Lowering one side of her top, he removed the nipple ring she already had in and inserted the platinum ring in its place. "You are now mine, and mine alone, Christine."

She smiled devilishly. "Where do I get to pierce you?"

His eyebrows shot up in alarm as she squeezed his hardened member in definite meaning. "I do not believe..."

"Oh, I'm going to do it, all right."

Dropping the box, Spock dragged her closer to him, backing towards the king-sized bed in the corner. He twisted and fell to the bed, pinning her beneath him. "We will talk about this after I have had my way with you."

As he proceeded to ravish her throat and collarbone, she smiled and said, "You mean *I* with you?"

His only response was a seductive growl.

As he removed her top, she rolled out from under him and stood, stripping off her velour panties, slowly, sensuously. She paused. "Who are you having take over my clients?"

Spock said, "You may want to sit down?"

"Why?" she asked as she moved to do so.

"I am having Jim take over the list of clients," the Vulcan pimp said simply.

There was a *thud* as Christine missed the bed and hit the floor.



END



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