And now the weddings and the receptions are over, but our couple is not quite

Good Morning, Starshine

Mistress V

"Good morning, starshine ... there's love in your skies

Reflecting the sunlight ... in my lover's eyes..."

Stark was dreaming.

He was in his bed back at the lodge in Lake Tahoe and it was winter. The room was warm. He was naked, except for his gold medal, which rested on his bare chest.

She was standing in the doorway, equally unclothed, her eyes devouring the arousal that stood proudly at attention. Slowly, exquisitely, she made her way over to where he lay, unable to move or even to think coherently.

"Stark," she whispered. "Take me." She threw a leg across his hips and he shuddered at the contact of her warmth against him.

"T'Lara," he moaned. "So warm. So hot!"

She leaned down and kissed his face, teasing him with her tongue. "Stark, I want you."

The tongue became more persistent. More ... slobbering?

Stark opened his eyes. He was nose to nose with Sierra, who gave him a sad little sigh. He groaned. No T'Lara. The covers were a Bedouin tent over his erection. He looked at the chronometer. He'd only been asleep ... fifteen minutes? It was still dark outside, well, nearly dawn.

"Aww, HELL!" he muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. In a moment, he was under the icy waters of a cold shower. He wondered if T'Lara might even consider ... then just as quickly dismissed the idea. She was a good Vulcan young woman so he would not even think of suggesting such a thing to her. But the prospect of enforced celibacy until their marriage in two years seemed bleak. For once, he wished he was not half-Deltan.

* * *

Spock kicked the door shut and put Christine down, still kissing her. Eventually, they separated.

"Mmmm," she sighed as she snuggled against him. "Alone at last." Then she drew back. "But we're soaked, from all that dancing. C'mon, to the showers with the both of us."

He did not argue, although it would be their third shower of the past day together.

* * *

Kala stretched, encountered a supine form, and froze. Hesitantly, she looked over. Greg Dillon was sound asleep next to her. Alarmed, she took in the situation.

Fully clothed, sans shoes and socks. Both of them. She didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or be sick. Not from a hangover, the hypo had taken care of that. From frustration. What had happened? Or not happened?

She hit the pillow in disgust. Still a virgin. And she really, really liked Greg. That was the problem. Guys liked who they slept with, or at least desired them. But taking someone's, er, cherry, that was quite another matter. "Too much emotional investment," one had said upon learning her chaste state.

Tears threatened to spill over her clenched eyelids.

A hand delicately stroked its way up her arm. Then she was pulled down into an embrace. Greg looked up at her, a sleepy smile on his handsome features.

"So," he whispered, as his hand drifted lower across her chest. "I think we've both had some rest, huh?"

The night before, at least the end of it, came back with astonishing clarity. Greg had fallen asleep in her arms, apologizing profusely for doing so, but he had worked two straight shifts to get the next three days off. He had planned to take her to the opening festivities on Monday, and to Stark's special event on Sunday morning.

And he knew. And he didn't mind. "We'll take care of that in the morning," he'd said with a grin, just before he drifted off. "I promise."

Now it was morning. She felt her heart start to pound. Yes, I think we have," she answered, her eyes questioning him.

His fingers brushed the hair of her forehead. "Relax, Kala. We've got the next three days to get it right. Now c'mere. Let's start at the top, shall we?" And then he kissed her and her worries flew away like motes of dust in a sunbeam. Their clothes slipped off almost without effort. He pulled her even closer against his body, his hands stroking her entire length. "I want you, Kala. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met."

Kala knew it was going to be all right. At last.

* * *

T'sai T'Ser finished her morning walk with a lighthearted spring to her step. She almost felt like a girl again, like the innocent maiden she was before all the darkness closed in.

She and General S'Toick had known each other for years. Their families had been well acquainted, and she had also met his wife. He was a good man, and it was sad to see him alone. Perhaps companionship would be a logical thing for them both. Cultural events, dinners, conversation. That had never hurt anyone. She frowned for a moment. The Intrepid had cast a shadow across the entire planet, but that shadow was finally beginning to see sunlight again.

Her niece had gladly offered to arrange an after-concert supper at the hotel's restaurant, and had been quite animated over her dinner companion. "After all, Ezyet," she had said, "it is not good to be by yourself, you know. It is time to move on."

Perhaps she would see what happened and then possibly heed her niece's advice.

* * *

"Oooh, your mom left us brownies!" Christine, clad only in a towel, skipped over to where the tray was set. "All that dancing and snowboarding, I'm still starving." She started to pick up the dish, then froze.

Spock, who was adjusting a towel around his hips, came up beside her. "What is it, is something wrong?"

Christine set the tray back down a little to the side of where it had been. "Look," she said, pointing at the bureautop.

Spock regarded the area she indicated, one eyebrow raised.

"You don't think your mother ... noticed that did you?" She traced the outline. "I must say, darling, you do leave a fine ass print."

"Christine!" He attempted ferocity, but his tone was laced with humor as he drew her into an embrace. "I am certain my mother left the brownies precisely there for a reason. And I am equally certain a question has been plaguing her ever since."

"Oh?" She batted her eyelashes coquettishly at him. "And that is?"

"Where are your footprints?" He reached behind her to brush the rough plaster wall. "Not a mark. My father, of course, would be wondering how the imprint appeared in the first place. I am thankful he did not accompany my mother. It shall be ... our secret"

Then his shoulders started to shake uncontrollably. All the tension from the humorous events of the preceding week finally burst forth and he broke into helpless laughter, collapsing backward onto the bed, dragging his equally mirthful wife with him.

"SHHH!" she admonished. "Your father will hear you! This is our wedding night, er, morning, not an excuse for emotional displays." The oxymoronic absurdity of her statement only added to the hilarity.

"I do not care, my wife," he replied, giving her rear end a playful slap. "And whoever is listening, do you hear? I do not care! How do you think the mark got on the bureau?"

"SPOCK! That's not nice." Christine was aghast.

"It is true, my wife. You and I indulged in sexual intercourse ... or should I say guv-tvi-rivak?" He regarded her. "Why are you so surprised? My parents did not find me under a gooseberry bush, you know."

Her cheeks flamed at some embarrassing images. Spock raised his eyebrow once more.

"You actually thought Vulcans ... mated in a medically-controlled environment? In the height of pon farr?"

She shrugged. "It involved emotion. I figured it had to be controlled somehow. I know better ... now."

"Oh, my wife, you wonderfully silly woman." Spock tightened his arms around her. "Perhaps you need some ... sexual education in the Vulcan ways." He let his hand slide under the towel a few inches. "And while we are on the topic of sex, we need to revisit our earlier conversation."

"And what conversation might that be?" She raised herself up on an elbow, her other hand trailing through the hair on his stomach.

"You stole an illicit glance at a part of my anatomy well before we became re-acquainted. Where, and when?"

"Spock." Christine rolled onto her back, crossing her arms across her chest in mock indignation. "Remember the little escapade on Ekos? You and Jim got beaten up so badly you were both bleeding all over the place. We had to sedate the both of you? Your uniform, what was left of it, was soaked. Who do you think stripped you? The good fairy?"

Spock's eartips flushed. '"I was not aware you had disrobed me." Then he gave her an amused glance. "And what you saw ... was it ... pleasing?"

"Very." She moved back onto his chest. "Very nice. In fact, so nice, I was tempted to ... examine it further. But then I heard Leonard calling, we had to restrain Jim, he was in much worse pain than you, though he'd never admit that."

He took her hand and placed it somewhere. "Then I take it you liked my ... lok?"

"Your what? Your cock? Yes, I liked it very much, even back then." She moved the towel away to give her better access to the object of their discussion.

"Lok. That is the literal Vulcan term for what you are holding. Though there are others, much more interesting."

"Oh?" Her hand started to move slowly, deliberately. "Tell me."

"Come here, my wife, and let me instruct you in Vulcan phraseology of an erotic nature." He pulled her back up into his arms.

"And where did you learn these terms, my dearest?"

"Christine, just because one has not experienced something does not mean they are completely ignorant of the subject." He removed her own towel, then replaced her hand on his anatomy. "Now let us begin. Kov. Lerash'es. Kliton thorshau. Ashaya mashu-pohshuk. Shall I continue?"

"What do the phrases mean?" Christine was genuinely curious, despite the attention she was giving to something that demanded it.

"The translations are ... rather literal, but here goes. Rock. Hardness. Exploding arrow. Love geyser."

"Love geyser?" Her eyebrow rose. "What else have you Vulcans come up with?" She stopped her actions, too aroused to continue.

He slid his hand along her flank and began to explore. "Ausachya. Fur. Fal. Hot. Masupik. Wet. Mashau. To ... make wet." His fingers sought a lazy entry. "Yontau. To burn." He wiggled the digits then withdrew, bringing them to his mouth. With an agonizingly slow movement, he licked the moisture off. "Masu'es slor," he whispered. "There is a word, yon savas. It means fire fruit." He began to kiss down her body. "And I find myself wishing to partake of yours."

* * *

"So tell me," Christine asked as she fed some more of the brownie to her husband. "How did a tight-assed unemotional Vulcan like yourself get such an ... oral fixation? Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Curiosity, I guess."

Spock took a drink from the champagne flute then handed it to his wife. "I suppose," he began, "it started early in my childhood."

"Your childhood?" Christine choked on the bubbles then set the glass down. "Please elaborate."

He laughed and pulled her close. "No, my foolish one. Not like that. My mother was fond of baking sweet desserts. Like brownies. And she always insisted I clean the bowl by using my fingers and then licking them. It was, she said, an old Terran custom."

"Mmm," she giggled, remembering many an afternoon doing the same thing in her mother's kitchen. Maybe Spock would like to help her bake chocolate chip cookies...

"I do happen to like homemade chocolate chip cookies," Spock said as he continued. "Anyway, I followed this custom, which, she assured me, my father also indulged in, although he limited his tasting activities to those done with the baking spoon."

Christine all but guffawed at the thought of Sarek helping out in the kitchen.

He moved his thumb across her lips. "And I discovered that using one's mouth, in particular, one's tongue, could be quite ... pleasant." He shivered as she took it in her mouth briefly, flicking her own tongue across it, with a very specific thought accompanying the action.

"That's a good introduction to oral delights, I agree," she said after a moment. "But how did you make the quantum leap from your mother's kitchen to..." She could not bring herself to finish the sentence.

"To enjoy the zhav of your treshaya slor guv tukh?" The words rolled so seductively off his tongue she found herself wishing it was elsewhere, preferably where he had just described.

"What did you just say?" Her voice had dropped to a whisper.

"I said that tasting your sugar-like ... special place ... gives me pleasure." His eyes left no doubt to the meaning of what special place meant.

"So ... how did you ... learn about such things?" She barely got the words out, but wanted to know.

His hand started its search once more. "One of my hallmates at the Academy was getting married, and we threw him a bachelor party. It was quite tame, from what I have heard of these things." No strippers. He admonished her thought playfully. "There were ... adult vids at the celebration. I must confess to having had one too many beers, and found myself on the sofa watching a vid."

Christine tried to concentrate on the story, which was difficult, given what was happening somewhere else. But it was so interesting she forced herself.

He pulled her closer into his embrace, all the while continuing to slide through the wetness that was increasing exponentially. "The title of the film was 'Sweet Box' and it was ... entirely oral pleasuring of women by men. In great detail, from every possible angle. I was ... fascinated. I had heard of this sexual practice, but had never witnessed it. I became ... quite aroused. So much so that I left the party suddenly and headed for a cold shower. That helped the physical symptoms, but the scenes were burned permanently into my memory." He licked her ear seductively. "And I decided I wanted to ... try this someday. But the opportunity never presented itself until we became a couple."

"You were a most willing and eager student," she purred, recalling the first time he had gone exploring orally. Her fingers brushed across his cheek, conveying what her words could not. "And you have only improved with time." A thought entered her mind unbidden, a scene from the day at the springs. Of her losing control over and over as each shockwave coursed through her. Only this time she felt the added pleasure he got from her release.

"Again?" he asked against her mouth softly. "I do so love to lick you, my love, to zhavan ko-lok kotik. Come for me again?"

"Oh please, yes."

* * *

Kala stirred in Greg's arms, a smile on her face. It had been so simple, really. And so wonderful. She glanced at the time. Noon. Good thing she was off herself, the spa would have to do without her supervision today. And maybe for the next few days?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a pulsing against her thigh. She looked over at Greg, catching the now-familiar look in his eyes. "I think something's awake again," she said with a giggle. Her fingers closed around his arousal, and she was amazed at how brazenly wanton she was feeling.

Dillon had absolutely no complaint about the situation. He rolled onto his back and pulled her astride his hips. "Come for a ride, Kala," he whispered.

* * *

Stark looked up from the speech he was practicing.

"T'Lara! What are you doing here?"

She walked over and sat down next to him on the patio. "I thought I might help you with your pronunciation, Stark. After all, you are still a bit unsure of the language." She put her hand on top of his. "I am ... very pleased at what your doing. Proud, as illogical as it sounds, but you know as well as I do that my family was not untouched by this event."

Stark put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her brow. Most all of the Vulcan team at the Polaris Games had lost a relative in the disaster, yet the event had moved the culture forward, as ridiculously illogical as it seemed. He had gotten the idea from talking to his fellow athletes, the new generation who sought to honor those who had been lost, those whose memory had helped them venture forth for Vulcan.

"Thank you for believing in me, T'Lara," he told her honestly. "I hope I can be a worthy husband and bondmate to you when we get married." Inwardly he sighed. Two long years.

T'Lara looked over his shoulder. Satisfied that no relatives were in sight, she leaned into him and planted a surprisingly affectionate kiss on his mouth. "It is good to see you, my love. I have missed you so," she whispered. Then she took the speech from him. "Shall we finish this, then perhaps this evening we might go for a drive? Tell me which words still give you difficulty."

Her demeanor was all business, but Stark was trying to comprehend what she had just suggested. He was confused.

I SAID a drive? In your flitter?

The thought entered his head without any effort on his part. He stared at her, a pleased smile on his face.

"Did you -- just?" he finally asked.

"Oh Stark," T'Lara sighed. "It is quite clear there is much you must learn. And I am more than willing to be your instructor." Her eyebrow rose a notch.

Stark slowly let out the breath he had been holding. Perhaps it would not be two years, but he would have to take it at her pace, that was certain. Her aim with a flying object was deadly.

* * *

"Kind of quiet around here, eh, Bones?"

"It's always quiet, Jim. That Vulcan never says much, you know that," McCoy snorted. "At least not to me."

Kirk gave his CMO a skeptical look. "Admit it, you're gonna miss his familiar face."

"No, but I will miss my ACMO. Who will run the monthly gynecological clinic while she's on her honeymoon?" McCoy scowled good-naturedly.

"Tut tut, Bones. The same person who ran it before she came on board as ACMO. You, yourself, and you." He looked at his vidscreen. "So we need to be at the ceremony tomorrow morning at 11. Sounds like it might be interesting. We never did hear much about the whole thing, you know. Maybe now we'll learn something."

McCoy looked thoughtful. "Yeah, Jim. Maybe the Vulcan culture is finally opening up a little bit. I mean, look at the difference in the Hope memorial and here." He shook his head. "What a terrible waste."

"Agreed. It should be thought provoking. But let's not sit here getting morbid. I checked with Starfleet, and they think it's a good idea if we pay a little social visit to the Ferengi's gambling cruiser this evening, after it docks. Just to show our presence, have a drink, that sort of thing. You up for it? Scotty can mind the store."

"Are you kidding? What time do we leave?"

* * *

"Well, Christine, Saturday evening is upon us soon. How would you like to spend it? Our first official night on Vulcan as husband and wife. After all, we leave tomorrow evening for Terra, and who knows when we shall again be in ShiKahr?"

They were sprawled across the bed in the guest house, the late afternoon sun sending its brilliance through the slatted shutters. It had been quite an ... amorous morning and afternoon.

Christine reached across her husband's relaxed form for her communicator. "You tell me, it's your planet, dearest. But I really should check in for a minute." She signaled the ship and soon was engaged in conversation with her friend Nyota.

Spock went over to the computer monitor at the desk and pulled up a list of the evening's events in the city. He was listening to the conversation going on behind him, naturally.

"She did? So, what happened? Really? Good for her!" Christine laughed seductively into the comm unit. "No, nothing that exotic. Things have been going as normal down here. We'll see you tomorrow morning for the ceremony. Later, hon!"

"I would be interested to learn what your definition of 'as normal' is, my wife," Spock said as he held out his hand to her. "But please, let us view the cultural offerings for this evening and select an activity. Or else I may be forced to keep you here and make love to you for the duration." His hand slid to the crease between her butt and her thigh, a place he never tired of touching.

"Spock, we're on the star cruiser for 2-1/2 days each way," Christine began.

"2.76 to be precise," he replied.

She knew better than to rise to the bait. "At any rate, we'll have plenty of down time for ... erotic fun. You're quite correct, I want to get out this evening. Let's see..."

Spock began to read the events aloud. "Movie of the night: 'Bridge Between Our Worlds.'" He raised an eyebrow.

*I TOLD you not to GO THERE. She was a bimbo, you said so yourself!*

He sighed. "Yes, my wife," he agreed. Christine was as jealous as he was, though neither of them wanted to admit it. "Karaoke night at Delta's Dawn."

"We could do that anywhere. In fact, we just did. Next?"

"ShiKahr chess championship, junior division."

"Uh, no."

"Gallery opening. 'Sounds of the Silence of Gol. A holographic retrospective.'"

She now gave him a raised eyebrow. "No."

"We could go to the Ferengi gambling cruiser, which docks this evening."

"I am quite sure the son of Ambassador Sarek had best not be seen anywhere near that floating den of iniquity," Christine said. Then she smiled. "Besides, we'll be in Las Vegas for a night, if you really want to sin ... fairly. The Ferengi stack their decks, everyone knows that."

"Yes, your logic is sound. Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. A Galactic Journey in Music."

"What's on the program?" This sounded like a possibility.

Spock looked at the description. "Feast Day in Seville. Polaris Suite. Songs of a Vulcan Spring. On the Steppes of Central Asia."

"By Borodin?" Christine's voice had raised a pitch.

"Yes, that is the composer's name. And apparently Somm himself will conduct the soundtrack from his award-winning film tonight."

She put her arms around his shoulders, nibbling at the tendons there. "Could we possibly go to that? Or will it be broadcast somehow? Those are four classic pieces of music, all very different. I would ... love to hear them."

Spock gave her one of his special smiles. "Easily done. My father has an ambassadorial box at the Cultural Palace. Let us go ask if we may share it this evening."

* * *

"So, miss Kala, have we taken care of your ... situation?" Greg Dillon asked the woman who lay naked across his chest. His hand stroked the perfect curve of her spine.

She raised her head a bit and met his gaze. "Yes, Greg, we have. Now what?"

"Now what?" He pulled her up against his shoulder. "We go out tonight, and tomorrow, and Monday. And I sleep in your bed, or you sleep in mine. Very simple. Kala, I know you're leaving for New York eventually, but let's enjoy the time we have left. Who knows what will happen? I'm just glad we got this chance."

She shivered as his fingers went unerringly to a special place he had discovered. "Let me make love to you, darlin'. We have time to make up for." He looked at her searchingly. "Kala, you're no one night stand, trust me. No matter what, know that. I will be kissing you as you get into the transporter beam. But till then, I plan to ravish you every chance I can get."

Kala succumbed to the pleasure flaming through her body, wondering if her father had said similar words to her mother way back when. Or vice versa?

* * *

Sarek and Amanda, who were enjoying the late afternoon on the patio, were quite surprised to see the couple emerge from the guest house and head their way. Both were dressed casually, and both seemed in quite fine spirits.

"Spock, Christine, it is good to see you. Are things well?" Sarek knew the greeting sounded ridiculous, but he had no idea what else to say. He and his wife had not emerged form the place of shan'ha'lak for three days, and then very shakily. By contrast, the couple before him looked relaxed and placid. And quite ... comfortable with each other.

Amanda had no problems jumping right in. "Are you hungry? There's plenty of food if you are. Or maybe something to drink?"

"Some iced tea, Amanda? That would be great." Christine followed her mother-in-law to the patio door.

Spock sat down at the patio table. His father regarded him, his customary eyebrow raised. "Your bonding is ... satisfactory?" he asked.

"More than satisfactory, yes, Father." Spock met his father's gaze firmly. "Christine and I wish to attend the symphony this evening, and wondered if we might share the ambassadorial box with you and Mother? It transpires Christine is well-acquainted with the program and would enjoy hearing the pieces, as would I."

"You may have the box to yourselves, my son. Your mother and I have other plans for the evening. In fact, you shall likely see your grandmother in attendance. Do please go, and enjoy yourselves. It promises to be a quite fascinating program."

"Thank you, Father, we shall do as you suggest." Spock turned to see his mother and wife returning with beverages and snacks. He held out his fingers to her in the traditional embrace, which she took as she sat next to him. "It is confirmed for the symphony, Christine. We shall be able to attend."

"Thanks, Sarek, I'm very grateful. My mom instilled a love of classical music in me from the time I could first listen. I can't think of a better way to spend the evening."

"Can you arrange a staff car for us, Father?" Spock asked.

Sarek allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up. "Your mother and I shall be using the embassy driver this evening. Take the flitter. I am sure it will be a most enjoyable drive."

"Very well, Father. And thank you again." Christine felt her husband's amused shock even as he poured them drinks.

*Perhaps the backseat of the flitter might be an interesting place for an experiment?*

*SPOCK!*

* * *

Christine smoothed a stray lock of hair into place and finished adjusting her necklace. She had been wearing the gorgeous earrings Spock had given her since she had unwrapped them, but for this evening, the new gold matched set she had bought at the ShiKahr bazaar last Thursday seemed just the ticket.

The reflection facing her in the bathroom mirror almost seemed a stranger. A happy, beautiful stranger, wife to a man whose love for her was so deep it defied description. Spock had expected her to wear her wedding gown to the symphony, so this was going to be a real surprise to him.

She opened the door and walked out in a silken swish. Spock turned to greet her. His eyes registered pleased surprise, while his arms automatically went to hold her close. "You look stunning, my wife," he told her happily. Then his eyebrow quirked. "But where did you obtain a traditional Vulcan ensemble as yours?"

"I also have my secrets, Spock." Her smile was enigmatic. "Shall we go then? We don't want to be late. Why does the event start so early, anyway?"

Spock took her arm and opened the door. "Because Vulcans enjoy the later evening hours as a time of relaxation with family members. As at the Botanical Gardens. The cooler temperatures are conducive to outdoor activities such as walking."

"And ... other activities?" She got a kick out of the flush that spread from his eartips down his neck.

* * *

Sarek and Amanda were in the kitchen having a glass of iced tea when they saw the couple depart the guest house for the flitterport. Spock was resplendent in a Vulcan style tunic and trousers, and Christine matched him in her lilac formal gown. Amanda noted the new gold pieces that adorned her neck and ears.

"They look every inch the proper Vulcan couple," Sarek remarked, almost proudly.

At that moment, Spock stopped and brushed a strand of hair behind his wife's ear. His fingers held hers in the traditional embrace, then he broke with tradition and gave her a soft kiss.

"Perhaps not quite the proper Vulcan couple," Amanda sighed.

Sarek gave her an amused look she knew well. "Why would you say that, Aduna? How many times have I kissed you just that way as we were preparing to depart for an evening out? No, they are behaving as I would have expected. Must I demonstrate?" He pulled his wife close and gave her a kiss not quite as chaste as the one his son had given his own wife.

"Oh, Sarek, I feel like we were courting again." Amanda let a wicked giggle lace her words. "With them out for the evening, they'll never suspect. This is so decadent, I can't wait."

"Then let us prepare, my wife." Sarek's eye held a mischievous twinkle.

* * *

T'sai T'Ser's stomach was doing its hundredth flipflop of the day. She gave her reflection one last once-over and decided she looked a proper Vulcan widow. Then she frowned. Widow was so negative a term. But then General S'Toick was in fact a widower, so they were both in the same proverbial boat.

The musical program looked to be a diversely interesting one, and there was a pre-concert reception with the artists she was looking forward to attending. A chance to see some of her friends, which she had been re-acquainting herself with since her return to Vulcan.

Her niece had promised a lovely after concert supper at the hotel's dining room, in a private endmeal room. T'Ser gave her hair a last once over and then almost lost a heartbeat when the door chimed. She took a deep, cleansing breath and made her way down the hall. If she could have smiled, she would have.

* * *

Nyota Uhura giggled into her comm unit.

"Everyone's running off to the gambling cruiser," she purred seductively. "It's just you and me, honey. What shall we get up to?"

Her intended evening's companion returned the suggestive laugh. "I'm sure we'll think of something, my dear," he replied.

* * *

"Ko-mekh-il T'Pau," Spock said pleasantly. "It is indeed good to see thee this evening."

T'Pau acknowledged the greeting and gave Christine a welcoming glance. "It is, Spock, good to see thee and thy bondmate at this event. Would thee be so kind as to fetch me and thy wife a cooling beverage?"

Spock almost bowed. "Of course," he said as he headed towards the bar.

Christine surveyed the pre-concert reception. They had already met the featured artiste, S'omm, whose awarded soundtrack to the Iggy-winning film would be performed this evening by the composer himself. He and his wife had engaged them in animated conversation about the California states of Terra, where they hoped to return soon to work on a new film.

Now T'Pau stood before her, every bit the regal clan matriarch, but with a softer gaze on her face. "Thy bonding is progressing well?" she asked.

"Very well, T'Sai," Christine replied. "And I thank thee for bonding us."

A trace of something akin to emotion, Christine was certain, shone in the woman's eyes for a microsecond. "And thee are going to Terra for thy honeymoon, I hear? Where to? I have visited thy planet on occasion. A fascinating place."

"We plan to visit both the deserts of the American Southwest as well as the coastal region of California, where I grew up," Christine replied. "Spock is quite fascinated with some of the sacred places I have visited, such as Monument Valley and Sedona, so I intend to show him these. They are quite beautiful."

T'Pau nodded. "I have heard of these places, my child. A most appropriate place to get to know thy bondmate, I am certain."

* * *

Spock turned from the bar and encountered a friendly face.

"Good evening, Spock," Skrav said placidly.

"The same to thee, Skrav," Spock replied. "Is T'sai T'Glad with thee?"

Skrav gave a slight nod. "She is, and I must warn thee, the fact that thee and thy wife are here, and not in the place of shan'ha'lak, has been the subject of endless speculation on her part already. Are thy parents not here also?"

Spock shook his head. "They had other plans."

"I see." Skrav raised his eyes heavenward, a move Spock thought odd. Then he figured the man logically wished he, too, had other plans. "Shall I play into her speculation, Beshu Skrav?" he asked, with a hint of a humorous glint to to his eyes.

"Far be it to me to suggest thy actions, Spock, son of Sarek," his neighbor replied with a mischievously raised eyebrow.

* * *

"This has been an enjoyable evening already," General S'Toick remarked to his companion.

"Yes it has," T'sai T'Ser replied. "S'omm and his wife have done much to promote our Vulcan culture offworld ... as well as instilling a new respect for it in the new generation."

"Indeed." Her companion turned to give her a pleasant glance. "But I hear that much of ShiKahr has fled to the Ferengi's gambling cruiser, which has docked here for a five day stay. Perhaps thee would have been more comfortable going there instead?"

"Of course not, General. I have been to Atlantic City many times with the staff of the Vulcan embassy in New York. Gambling and its mathematical precision is interesting, but not nearly as pleasing as a night of music with a genial companion."

* * *

Spock returned to where his grandmother and wife were standing and picked up snippets of a most fascinating conversation.

"I much prefer the North Rim to the South," T'Pau remarked. "More beautiful and less traveled."

Christine nodded her assent. "We plan to visit both. Has thee been to Sedona?"

"Yes, child. The place called Bell Rock is a most sacred spot, according to thy native peoples, and I felt its energy most strongly. Thee must take Spock there."

"I plan to." She saw her husband at that moment. "Your grandmother and I were discussing Arizona," she said simply.

"Indeed," Spock replied as he handed them their beverages.

* * *

"That was a most enjoyable performance," Christine said as Spock started up the flitter. "The music was just amazing. S'omm has a lot of talent, I guess that's why he's headed back to Terra."

Spock easily maneuvered the flitter onto the spaceway. "I agree, T'hyla. A most pleasant way of spending the early evening. But the night has only just begun." He shot her a meaningful sidelong glance.

But Christine had something else on her mind. "I can't believe you told your neighbor there was still 'time enough' for shan'ha'lak. She was just speechless. Spock, you are so bad sometimes. I can only imagine what she is thinking."

"Do you care, my love?" Spock placed a free hand on her knee. "Her speculations are well known and just as well ignored. Had we not been in evidence this weekend, she would have surely thought our bond was so all consuming as to be based only on sexual knowledge, not logic, since I was not in pon farr, as she had likely ascertained. You, the wicked alien woman, must surely have seduced me with your strange concept of rampant, non-mating sexual pleasure."

Christine started to laugh out loud.

"Now since she has seen us acting as a quite ordinary husband and wife, she will be forced to think of new way to entertain herself. Though I hope her idea of a bonding of convenience does not re-surface, as I prefer you, my wife, not another male." He raised his eyebrow.

"Poor Skrav," Christine sighed. "What does he do? It had better be interesting enough to keep him occupied and away from his wife's fertile imagination. She should write romance holos or soap operas!"

Spock shot her a peculiar look. "Skrav works for the Vulcan Security Services. He has for many years, in the cypher department. He is what you would call a code-breaker.'

Christine stared at her husband, incredulous. "A spook?"

"A phantom? Trust me, he is quite alive."

"No, an agent, a spy, big brother? As in the Federation Intelligence Agency?" She started laughing again, so hard that the tears threatened to spill over her lashes. "Omigod, that is just too funny. His wife should work there, not him! What does she do?"

"She is a ... housewife, as you say. That explains why she has so much time to speculate on the clandestine activities of the most suspicious House of Sarek. But Skrav takes it all logically in his stride, from what my father tells me." By now, Spock was struggling to keep from laughing as well. He knew that once they returned to the guest house, he would likely join his wife in a very good guffaw, as she called it.

At that moment, Spock became aware of a ShiKahr Spaceway Patrol flitter in the next lane. The officers gave him a friendly wave of the hand as they passed.

"We can't be arrested for laughing, can we?" Christine asked, suddenly fearful.

Through their link, she felt him almost lose control, though his voice was as calm as ever. "Indeed not, emotional outbursts are not quite a criminal offense ... but if it were to happen, T'Glad would be among the first to know. Skrav has ... a transmission scanner, I hear, for his job. So she knows all that happens in the area."

Christine bent over double in near hysteria. "I can't stand it," she gasped.

* * *

"It appears my parents are not yet home. Good," Spock said as he parked the flitter and opened the doors. "Come, my wife." He held out his hand to Christine.

"What's on your mind, good sir?" she asked, suddenly playful.

"I propose we divest ourselves of this formal attire in favor of something less ... structured."

Christine gave him a smoldering glance. "And?"

"And then go for a drive."

A fantasy vision flashed across her mind, one she very much wanted to see happen in real life.

"You're on."

* * *

Spock cut the flitter's engine. He and Christine surveyed the vista of nighttime ShiKahr spread out below them, like a jeweled scarf dropped on the valley floor.

"Magnificent," Christine breathed. "And this hill belongs to your family?"

"Indeed, T'hyla," Spock replied as he adjusted the seatback. "Years ago, the developer had planned to build several other homes on this road, above the place where my parents now reside. My father decided to keep the natural beauty of the area intact by purchasing the empty tracts of land instead. You can see, there were two other pullouts as we drove up here. A dwelling would have been built at each had my father not intervened."

"Thank your father for me," she replied, allowing herself to be guided into the somewhat cramped back seat. "But not now, OK?"

Her husband raised an eyebrow. "No, I have other plans for the present. Let us commence, shall we?"

"You and your fantasies." Christine smothered a giggle. "Do you have any others I should know about?"

"I might," Spock replied as he pulled her against him, "but for now, this is my number one priority." His mouth ended any further speculation on her part.

It had been years since Christine had been romance in the back seat of a vehicle. Actually, there had not even been that many instances. High school was busy spent studying for college, and the local surfers had wanted cute bouncy blonds, not a tall, gangly brunette. In college, couples wandered in and out of each other's dorm rooms at will, not that she'd done much of that, though. Roger had his own place and they were soon living together, anyway. At Starfleet Medical School, her studies had been a top priority, and the two failed romances had happened long before any serious carnal knowledge had been exchanged. In fact, she'd ended both of them because the men involved had just not been Spock.

And now she was here with Spock, her husband, in the back seat of a vintage flitter, his father's no less, parked at the end of a Vulcan road. Even a screenwriter could not have painted a more improbable picture, but this was not a romance fantasy holovid, this was happy reality.

Spock pulled her into his lap. His hands slid up her thighs, under the short skirt she wore, his fingers quickly and easily negotiating the slight bit of lace and silk masquerading as her underpants. "It would appear you have been anticipating this as much as I, my wife," he whispered. "What is it about physical contact in a vehicle that is so ... satisfying?" He recalled their equally passionate encounter aboard the Enterprise shuttlecraft a few weeks ago. Very satisfying. Then he forced himself back to the present and slowly removed the skimpy garment from her body altogether. "Mmmm, this is much better," he said, as he let his fingers explore further, free of any barrier.

"Spock."

He managed to pull back for a moment. "Yes?"

"The flitter."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, we are in the flitter, is this a problem?"

Christine shook her head, then ran her hand across the smooth leather seat. "We can't let anything damage this, your father would definitely be ... displeased."

He thought for a moment. "As usual, your suggestion is quite logical. I believe there needs to be some sort of covering placed on the seat, to shield it from any ... foreign substance." In one quick moment, he had his t-shirt off and had placed it beneath where they sat. "I believe this solves the problem, does it not?"

"I think you just created another," she replied, rubbing her cheek against the fur on his chest. Her own hands were now curious, traversing the line of hair that pointed like an arrow to the waistband of his jeans. She rubbed her finger over the pronounced bulge at the zipper. "Oh, Spock," she sighed, "do you have any idea how good you feel?"

"Perhaps if you were to ... undo the constraining fabric, both of us would feel much better." He was finding it a bit difficult to breathe and talk at the same time.

Christine opened the button of his waistband, her eyes locked on his. The zipper made its slow way down, tooth by tooth, until he was free and hard in her palm, already wet in anticipation. She couldn't help seeing the similarities to every old teenaged romance holo she had ever watched, where the hero and heroine were doing it hot and heavy in the back seat. All that was missing was the...

Condom?

She stared at the item Spock had put in her free hand. He gave her a dangerously amused look, one that bordered on an outright grin.

"What on earth is this for?" she asked, turning the object over. "And where did you find one?"

He took the packet from her and proceeded to tear it open. "I obtained it at the starbase shopping center some weeks ago. As you said, it would be logical to protect the flitter from any ... collateral damage. And this serves the purpose nicely. Though I confess to never having had the occasion to use one."

"You planned this? Why am I not surprised?" She kissed him, conveying her delight at the prospect through their link. "Lucky for you, mister, that I had the foresight to start contraceptive injections well before you decided to go spelunking." Then she gave him a playful wink, watching the delight dance across his face. "But what makes you think I know about these? They're almost museum pieces, you know."

"Ah, but I am fortunate enough to have a spouse who is not only a physician, but who also gives the monthly gynecological clinic on board ship. So it would seem logical that she might know something of this, does it not?"

"You've been talking to Leonard too much, buster." She took the condom and fitted it where it was supposed to go and together they got it into place. She ran her fingers across the studded texture. "You certainly got a good one, this type was supposed to increase pleasure for the partner, or so it was claimed."

"Then shall we test its claim?" His hands free, he now pulled her top up, revealing an unbound set of breasts. "You are missing your undergarments, Doctor," he admonished, giving one nipple a tweak.

"So are you, Commander."

* * *

General S'Toick handed T'sai T'Ser an ice cream cone then took one himself. "I have found this a most pleasant way of ending a summer's evening," he admitted. "I often come here with my daughter and her family. My grandchildren are particularly fond of ice cream. They have made me a convert, I confess."

She bit into the delicious coolness, regarding the serenity of the evening that surrounded them. The concert had been delightful, and the supper they had shared afterward very enjoyable. The conversation had been agreeable, the company perfect. With a slight ache, she realized just what she had been missing all these years.

They strolled back towards the diplomatic compound and their waiting transport. The usually quiet Intrepid memorial was a veritable hive of activity. Workmen were everywhere, behind covered scaffolding, busily finishing preparations for a special event Stark had announced for the next day. In the center of the plaza, where the single memorial stone lay, was a large draped object.

"It would appear that tomorrow's event should prove quite interesting," General S'Toick remarked.

"Indeed, it would." T'sai T'Ser knew more than most, for she herself had been helping Stark with his speech, at Sarek's request. She had found him to be a most polite and dignified young man and knew he would do much for the good of Vulcan, though he was not at all the picture of the typical Vulcan. She had seen him just yesterday at Spock and Christine's bonding, and the red and blond streaks that decorated his traditional hairstyle were anything but subtle. But that was Stark, and she accepted who he was. She hoped the rest of the planet, at least some of it, might do so in time.

"Perhaps tomorrow evening, we might venture to the Ferengi's cruiser? After all, would it not seem logical for one from the Security Services to make a courtesy visit, just to insure all was going well?" He allowed the barest trace of amusement to grace his tone.

"That might be a very good idea, yes," she agreed. "I would be pleased to accompany thee, General. Perhaps I might introduce thee to one of my favorite games of chance, craps?"

"I know it well, and would be pleased to play wit thee," he said, a twinkle passing across his eyes. "But the hour grows late and we both must prepare for the morrow. Let me see thee home, and I thank thee again for a most wonderful evening." His fingers extended for the traditional affectionate embrace, which she took, pleased.

"As I thank thee," she replied.

* * *

"You're certain we can come up here? After all, this road leads directly past Ambassador Sarek's home." T'Lara looked over at Stark with a questioning glance.

"It's fine, Spock himself told me the views up here were cosmic. And he says we should come hiking up here too. I'll ask the Ambassador when I see him. We could bring a picnic and watch the sunset, maybe?" The idea of spending time alone with his fiancee was pleasing. Stark loved the spotlight, but it got old after awhile. "Here we go," he said as he parked the flitter on an overlook below the summit. "Let's get out and have a look!"

T'Lara followed Stark out of the vehicle and they stood, awestruck, as they looked at the stunning view. The evening breezes were still very warm, carrying the scent of the wild vegetation that grew in the hills surrounding ShiKahr.

"I'll protect you from the le-matyas," Stark said as he led T'Lara to the hood of the flitter. Both of them sat down companionably and looked out at the city lights. It was beautiful and very quiet, miles away from the craziness of the past week.

"There have not been le-matyas sighted in the vicinity of ShiKahr for 65.3 years, Stark," she replied.

Stark sighed. Another tutorial was on its way. But he was wrong.

Her hand brushed his cheek just before she settled her head on his shoulder. "I appreciate the thought, my love, and I thank you for it. I feel so safe with you, Stark."

Stark let his own hand cares her shoulder. They had just finished a very serious discussion of some things and he was even more determined to care for the woman he loved, who returned his love so deeply. Pre-bonding sex was definitely not going to be an issue, but there were some other things that had to be sorted out first. Stark wondered how this could be accomplished. But now was not the time to speculate.

"I promise to always protect you, my T'Lara. You will not need to fear me, or our love." He gave her a kiss, just passionate enough to seal his vow, then they returned to looking at the view and the city in general, which had grown in size since Stark's last visit. He could just make out the lights of his sports complex, and down the mall, the monument where he would be speaking in the morning.

* * *

"I can see why condoms fell from favor," Spock remarked. "Despite the thinness of the material, sensation is severely limited, at least for the wearer." He stroked Christine's hair. "And for you?" They were lying comfortably on the back seat, rearranging their clothing into some semblance of normalcy.

She looked up at him, a contented smile on her face. "It was nice," she finally said.

"Nice?" He raised his usual eyebrow. "I suspect they heard you on board the Enterprise, my wife. Merely nice?"

"That was from the second course, brownie boy" she reminded him. Indeed, after the preliminary investigation of condoms in lovemaking, Spock had announced he wanted dessert and had proceeded to help himself very thoroughly. "But it was a quite novel sensation. I must admit, though, I prefer the feel of your naked lok inside me," she finished, pleased at being able to put her recent vocabulary lesson into use.

"Then shall we return home and see what other sensations we might discover?" He placed the used knotted condom in a tissue then deposited it carefully in his pocket for later disposal.

"Don't forget the wrapper." Christine handed him the bright pink square which read "Big Stud".

"Ah yes, thank you." Spock placed the item in the middle of the back seat and left it there. Christine looked at it, then back at her husband, realization beginning to dawn.

"You want him to find it, don't you?" she asked, seeing just how wicked a sense of humor her husband really had.

"Perhaps yes, I do. My father has a proclivity to being overly curious. As my mother so often tells him, this leads to his finding out something he might not wish to actually know. It has been apparent that all week, he was speculating on whether or not we were being amorous. Now he will be presented with the evidence of our scandalous sexual activity in his flitter, an activity he himself encouraged, however subtly. He cannot discuss this with us, it would be too embarrassing for all involved. And he cannot tell my mother or she would laugh for a solar month at least. So he will be, as you Terrans say, stuck. And the flitter, of course, will not show a trace of anything untoward."

"Spock, you are very, very bad," Christine snickered as he started up the engine once more.

"I have always had this type of relationship with my father, so I am merely making up for some lost time. I am quite familiar with this practice of late, though of a quite different variety." He gave her a knowing look.

"I can't disagree with that," she replied.

Spock negotiated the flitter carefully down the curving road. He and Christine were surprised to see another vehicle parked on a lower overlook. Two figures were seated on the hood, obviously studying the view below them.

"Who could that be?" she asked.

"I believe it is young Stark and his fiancee, T'Lara." As Spock said this, the couple turned to look at their vehicle. He lowered his window. "Stark, T'Lara, good evening. Is anything amiss?"

"Spock? Chris? Hey, we were just talking about you!" In a moment, Stark and T'Lara had made their way over to the flitter. Spock cut the engine. He and Christine got out and they all began discussing the next day's activities. No one was even surprised they had run into each other where they had.

The comm unit in Sarek's flitter beeped. Spock leaned and saw it his father. He flipped on the switch with a slight frown of surprise.

"Spock here, good evening Father."

"Ah, you have not retired for the night, then. Good evening, my son, Christine."

"Is anything wrong, Father?" Spock wondered why on earth his parents would be calling, unless the embassy car had broken down somewhere. It was still relatively early, not even midnight.

"Your mother and I are here visiting the Ferengi's entertainment ship and we are having quite an enjoyable time. Your mother wondered if you and Christine might not wish to join us for a few hours? Most of your friends seem to be in attendance. In fact, the only one missing appears to be Stark."

"Stark and T'Lara are here with us at present," Spock replied. "We ran across them just now."

"You don't say? Just a moment, then." There was a sound of muffled conversation, then another voice spoke.

"Stark, T'Lara, hey, it's me, Dad. Why don't you come on up with Spock and his wife? There's lots to do here, and the Ferengi delegation would like to meet you as well. Good publicity and all."

Stark looked at his fiancee, who seemed to be as excited as a full Vulcan could get without showing emotion. "What about T'Lara? I was supposed to get her back to her cousin's."

"I checked with her family. There'll be no problems. We'll make sure she gets safely home son, don't worry."

"What's everyone wearing?" Christine asked for herself and T'Lara. Priorities were important.

Amanda's voice could now be heard. "It runs the range from very casual to dress Starfleet uniform. But you don't need to dress up as formally as you were for the symphony. Just throw something on, I know you'll look fabulous."

"We shall call you when we are ready to come aboard. How shall we get there?" Spock said.

"There is a fully functioning transporter unit on board here, so you may beam directly here, and we shall return in my personal shuttle, " Sarek replied.

"That sounds agreeable, Father. We shall call again in perhaps a half hour when we are ready transport aboard."

"Very good, son, we shall see you then."

"How do we look?" T'Lara said to Christine. She was dressed in a Vulcan styled trouser suit of soft pastel silk. Stark was similarly attired in a male version of the everyday attire.

"Just fine, both of you," Christine told her. "Spock and I will change into something a bit less country western dancehall, then we can see what everyone's been talking about. I'm glad we got a chance to see the ship."

"I must also confess to having a slight amount of curiosity," Spock admitted as he and his wife got back into the vehicle. "Follow us down to the house, then, Stark."

"Curiosity is cool," Stark said as he, too, started up the engine.

T'Lara raised an eyebrow. "Then may I ask what you thought they were doing here this evening?"

Stark laughed, something he never apologized for. "What do you think? The same thing I'm hoping we can do sometime soon."

"In a vehicle?"

"T'Lara, I have a private room in my office area back at the complex. Trust me, no, not in a flitter. Whenever you're ready, we'll ... proceed."

"That's disappointing, I have seen so many vids about just such romantic adventures. In an auto, usually." She let her hand caress his kneecap.

Stark, for once in his young life, was speechless.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the skies above Vulcan...

"Well, Bones, this is quite a place, don't you think?" Kirk asked as they surveyed the main salon. "And there's more to be seen, the head of the delegation has promised us a tour soon. How about a drink first?"

"Don't I usually give that prescription, Jim?" McCoy replied, taking in the sumptuous surroundings before them. "This is on par with the best that Wrigley's has to offer, you know. The Vegas planet too."

"So I hear. The Ferengi are keen to be trading partners, maybe with a view to joining the Federation some day, so they're putting on their best face. I, for one, plan to enjoy it. Wonder where Spock and Chris are? Seems like half of ShiKahr is in attendance. And half my crew, from the looks of things."

McCoy shook his head. "Did you have to go and spoil everything?"

* * *

"So where is Mogh this evening?" Kala asked Worf and K'a'tya as they waited for their drinks. "We're so glad you could join us."

"He is at the home of the Ambassador's niece, where he shall spend the night. It transpires he and her son will be part of the ceremony tomorrow, though we have no real idea of what he shall be doing." Worf had a proud expression on his face, matched only by that of his wife's.

"And on Tuesday, the day before we depart, Stark is taking some of the youngsters to the seaside for a surfing excursion. Worf and I are so thrilled, it has been many years since we have enjoyed a beach together." K'a'tya had a smile that indicated it would be a pleasant day indeed.

"That's great. And it gives you and your wife some time to enjoy the more grownup offerings here," Greg Dillon remarked. "You up for some dabo?"

"I thought you Texans preferred poker?"

Dillon laughed. "Nope, I'm not from cowboy country. My folks are in the fishing business. Give me dabo any day, it's way more exciting." He put his arm around Kala.

The waitress arrived. "Two Klingon martinis, and two chec'tluths."

Kala and K'a'tya took the steaming drinks. "Kai-Qapla'!" they said simultaneously, just before they downed the strong brews.

"She is a true Klingon woman, my friend. Be very afraid." Worf gave Dillon a knowing wink as they had a sip of their martinis.

"So where's Nyota?" K'a'tya whispered to Kala.

Her new friend shrugged. "She said she wasn't up to a party, wanted to spend a quiet night in. We'll see her tomorrow, though. What's your game of chance, anyway, my sister in crime?"

"Craps." K'a'tya was firm in her decision. "I need a new pair of Ferengi slippers."

* * *

"Fettuccine Alfredo, Caesar salad, fine champagne and a vid. Nyota, you truly know how to entertain."

Uhura laughed as she served the food. She hit the play button and a colorful image filled the screen. "I aim to please, my dear."

"'King Solomon's Mines'. What a crock of crap," Ade M'Benga snickered. "Horribly miscast, and the legend and the reality bear no resemblance to each other."

"It's the romance of Africa, silly. They don't make 'em like that anymore. Now it's adventure on other planets, not on the route to Lake Tanganyika!"

M'Benga gave her a kiss. "You are a romantic African woman, Nyota. And to think, we were right under each other's proverbial noses. But until your friend the ACMO started seeing the First Officer, we never had an opportunity to meet. I, for one, am grateful to them."

"Me too, Geoff. But I do prefer your African name."

"Do you have ... another name, my dearest Nyota?"

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Of course. But you'll never get it out of me without surgery!"

M'Benga laughed heartily. "We'll see about that."

* * *