Spock was fully aware as a scientist and as a Vulcan that circumstances that led him to Christine Chapel's rooms were not beyond the scope of probability. He was half-human, after all, subject to the weaknesses of his human bloodline. His adherence to logic was born from a decision that he had made in his youth -however earnestly he wished it were not so- out of his need for acceptance. A human quality, of which influenced a minute number of actions he ultimately took, most times very well calculated.
"You half breed son-of-bitch. I hope you fry in Vulcan hell…!"
Glass shattered behind the door just seconds where his head used to be before he closed it, followed by another screeching cry, prompting him to make a steady retreat. His calm equally shattered, he strode down the hotel hallway away from the distraught woman who had intended on him being the target of her frustration. It was an unsettling reminder of how much he overestimated his understanding of human behavior and his own self-control. Spock stepped further into the elevator as an older couple joined him. He stared implacably ahead drawing on a veil of calm-one he did not feel- over his features, discomfited by their furtive glances as well as their muffled whispers. "Is that a Vulcan? I can't wait to tell my sister,"
Relegated to a "that" rather than a "him" bothered him more than he would admit. In moments like these he felt just as alien as he had as a child on his own planet. Tonight, he felt even more so because of his illogical actions.
Sexual liaisons between humans released endorphins that induced relaxation and contentment. Indeed, the human in him that enjoyed such attentions, had welcomed the distraction from more inappropriate thoughts as Christine Chapel provided an outlet to his "problem". The nurse had accused him of having been "in it for himself". Albeit unwisely, he had affirmed her observation.
"May I remind you that it was you that had offered me relief. It would have been prudent to mention beforehand that you were seeking a partner for oral stimulation and genital penetration."
Blue eyes were very easily readable. Shock had come first, and then the nurse was overtaken by fury, after which followed the war cry that had inspired his quick exit. Half-truths were not an unfamiliar concept to Vulcans. She was not the woman that he had truly wanted and after his "distraction" was eliminated he could not bring himself to engage in any more sexual activities with her. His stomach soured. She had been correct in her estimation of his behavior.
Spock exited the hotel, got into his vehicle, and made his way home only then drawing in a deep breath of relief as the door to his apartment closed behind him. In no small measure did he share the distaste in his actions as the nurse did. For she had been the only person at the club that had been privy to the professional reasons that brought him there. And, she had been the only one to witness his interaction with the young cadet. He had been sent to watch her. His duty was only to watch her. His duty was to remain in the shadows of the club. His duty had not been to stay after having been detected. To be caught up in her eyes. He should have never touched her skin, held her small bare waist, nor pressed himself against her, and yet as he lay down in bed staring up at the ceiling, he shamelessly used his memory to fuel fantasies of her mounted upon him, running his hands along her long brown thighs. Spock closed his eyes leveling his breathing, reordering his thoughts, slowly calming his body. Meditation was imperative. He would see her tomorrow night. And, they would no longer be strangers.