I own nothing but my twisted imagination
Starfleet Centerfolds
"So, finish the story, Ny, how did they find out he was with Playboy?"
The lunchtime roundtable was huddled in, anxiously listening to Lt. Uhura's latest bit of news.
"He was actually dumb enough to ask Culverson if she wanted to be Playmate pinup and faster than you can say constitution class, they beamed him back to Starbase 6."
Chapel, Rand, Tonia Barrows, and Carolyn Palamas hooted in laughter.
"He asked the head of security to be a Playboy playmate! It's a wonder she didn't just beam him into deep space on the spot!" Barrows giggled in amazement.
"I wonder if he wanted her to pose with just her phaser?" Carolyn quipped.
Christine started giggling and waving her hand in front of her.
"I know that look! Spill it, Christine, there's a bad joke brewing in that head of yours."
After taking a drink of her tea to catch her breath, she said, "Just think of lines if it had been us he'd asked. I can imagine the copy under the pictures now. This is Nyota Penda Uhura, Communications Officer. Her hobbies are singing and shopping. Hailing frequencies are definitely open! And this is Janice Rebecca Rand, yeoman. Her hobby is painting. She'll take care of you and make you feel like a masterpiece! Yeoman Antonia Victoria Barrows, also known as Tonia. File her under romantic! And Carolyn Athena Palamas, Archeology and Anthropology officer, she will rock your world! "
"Christine, you are absolutely scandalous!" Tonia half whispered.
Uhura chuckled. "What's scandalous is I can't decide whether I'd wear nothing but sable or go for leather."
This brought up another wave of hoots.
"I think I'd prefer velvets or satins." Carolyn considered thoughtfully. "Maybe stretched out on a day couch."
"Bubbles…and a large bubble bath with a waterfall. I always loved the way that bubbles pick up all those colors." Christine mused.
"Well," chuckled Janice, "I slip off satin, leather makes me chafe and I've never been the bubble bath type because I wrinkle like a prune. Maybe I could do the Lady Godiva bit since my hair is so long."
"Exactly how long is your hair when you take it out of the weave?" Barrows queried.
"Almost long enough for me to stay in Star Fleet if I had those pictures taken." She joked.
Another burst of laughter lit across the table.
"What would you pose in, Tonia?" Uhura asked.
"I've never really thought of it before. I remember seeing a piece on early 20th century entertainment where the burlesque dancers wore used huge feathers…and sequins. That might be interesting."
Carolyn glanced at her watch and hissed. "What will be interesting is how we'll explain to our supervisors that we were late because we were too busy discussing nude photo shoots. We've got to scoot."
The women hurriedly picked up their belonging and made for the door. Immediately after walking into the hallway, Tonia nervously turned to her compatriots and asked, "Do you think he heard?" Do you think it will work? Are you sure it wasn't too forward?"
Christine calmly patted her friend's shoulder. "Carolyn kept and eye out and watched Leonard go into the senior staff alcove by himself."
"And I know from eating back there during lunch meetings that you can hear whatever is being said at that table." Uhura added.
"And if that little bug in his ear doesn't get the old Doc interested, we'll have Christine check and make sure he still has a pulse. With any luck you should have a date by the next shore leave."
"The plan worked like clock-work. Now, we just wait." Palamas assured her.
Tonia grinned shyly and thanked her friends as they started towards the turbo lifts. "You all are the best. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Except that the plan had not gone quite as planned. Palamas had correctly reported that she had seen Dr. McCoy go into the alcove but she had failed to realize that he had joined the captain, the first officer, the chief engineer and an extremely bemused Kevin Riley. (Riley had followed the captain back to the alcove in order to convince him that his latest morale suggestion would not result in damage to the ship, the crew or the universe in general.) So instead of just the chief medical officer being at the table, there were four other officers eating at that particular table.
Well, they had been eating. Now they were all pensively pushing their food around their plates. And no one was admitting to hearing the women's conversation.
But, they had. They most definitely had.
Her golden hair flowed over her body, covering it like a tantalizingly short silken gown. He was amazed to notice that the animal was the same shade of gray as her eyes. The grace of horse's muscles was matched by the grace of the tanned legs that gripped them. They moved as one. As they picked up speed her hair reluctantly released itself from its' occupation and flowed behind her like a banner declaring her magnificence. Her body gleamed with sweat, sparkling and shining like a jewel.
His breathing matched that of the stallions'.
And then suddenly, he couldn't breathe because horse and rider had stopped a few feet from him. She dismounted and even he could feel the horse's sense of loss. Once again her hair had taken back its' obligation to cover her. She came closer and opened her mouth to speak…
"Lt. Riley, were you planning on joining us?"
Instead of the dulcet tones of Janice Rand came the baritone of the ship's captain. This shock brought him out of his reverie and he saw the older men had already gotten up to leave. He took a deep breath and said, "I'll be there in just a minute, Captain."
Kirk hadn't really seen a word on the PADD he had been reading for the last five minutes. For the life of him, he couldn't help thinking about the discussion he'd overheard or the ideas they suggested.
"Captain," came a purr behind him, "Would you like me to open hailing frequencies?"
He turned to see his Communications officer unquestionably out of uniform. She was wearing a orange-red leather corset with matching hot pants and shiny orange-red stiletto heels. To say that the outfit accented the woman's physical attributes was an incredible understatement. The outfit with its straps and her hair dangling down in twists gave her an almost feral look. The effect took Kirk's breath away.
She moved towards him in a slow, stalking fashion. And James Tiberius Kirk was frozen by the look in her eye like a cobra staring down a meal. And he didn't mind one bit.
Her long polished nail scraped provocatively across his knee while never breaking eye contact.
"Sometimes it's good for a man who's always in power to not always be in power. So maybe, for the next few minutes, I'll be in control and you'll be –
"..in the Jeffries tube covered in coolant. It's a mess, sir. Suggest that we drop down to Warp 2 while we get it cleaned up."
The mental jerk back to reality was very nearly painful.
"Good suggestion, Scotty. We, uh, need to keep on top of …it."
Getting the coolant drained and flushed hadn't been difficult, but then there had been the issue of checking that nothing had been damaged. And that took time and patience, which meant it was an assignment right up Montgomery Scott's alley.
Scotty scanned the circuits looking for signs they had been affected. He knew the triage in his sleep - green lights were unaffected, yellow possibly or mildly affected, red severely affected, black, dead.
Green, yellow, red, black, the colors in the Scott family tartan….
The colors always looked sae pretty together.
Sae pretty.
Carolyn Palamas' hair hung in ringlets that sparkled like gold against her shoulders. That gold spilled down, and inevitably lead the eyes to the delicate white lace of the silk bustier with the thin interwoven satin ribbons of green, yellow, red and black through the bodice. The lace framed her throat and the ribbons, which started underneath her milky breasts trailed down to the Scott satin tartan caressing her hips, making its point and then relinquishing themselves against her perfect legs.
She was relaxed on her side on an antique leather day bed.
Scotty could scarcely take in a breath.
"I've waited for you so long, Montgomery Scott. Come sit beside me and let me kiss your brow. You're so very tired and I have a cool drink here for you. Dear Scotty, I have ached for the time when you would hold me in your arms and whisper…"
"Mr. Scott, status, please?"
It had been a long, tedious day. It had felt as though as they repaired one area affected by the spill, another issue had cropped up. This sort of day shouldn't have been enough to make Spock feel the irritation that was tweaking the back of his consciousness so he looked forward to his evenings' meditation.
Sitting in front of the fire he opened his mind and allowed it to drift in order to recognize the source of his distraction. He smelled the smoke, watched the colors dance across the embers and listened to the popping of the coals and wood chips. On this night, it was the sound that guided him to the memory of the words, "…a large bubble bath with a waterfall. I always loved the way that bubbles pick up all those colors."
He pictured water cascading down into a perfect white tile Roman bath surrounded by flowers and greenery. The water was filled with bubbles that glistened and captured the colors around them.
And framed in the midst of it all, was Christine Chapel, her hair, high in a French knot with one errant strand wandering down to stroke her shoulder. The bubbles were her costume and the shower of water behind her, her stage. She did not so much appear to bath in the water, as dance through the different elements of water and air, merging her colors of flesh and blue and gold with the pastels of the bubbles, the teal of the water and the greenery encompassing it all.
Spock emerged from the meditation, frustrated in more ways than one. He was annoyed with himself that he was having these reactions and yet, couldn't shake the images his mind had conjured.
So, he decided to replicate himself some tea and attempt to reasonably sort out his conflict and his attractions.
Unfortunately, it was at that precise moment that his replicator short-circuited.
"It's 'bout time you finally came to, Spock!" he heard Leonard McCoy say as he attempted to focus his eyes. "I'd hate to explain to the big wigs on Vulcan that you were taken out by a cup of tea."
While still groggy, Spock responded, "I must agree that such an epitaph would be regrettable."
McCoy patted his friend on the shoulder affectionately and said, "Your readings are looking much better. I suggest a healing trance, some rest and when you're done, I have no doubt that some Plomeek soup could be arranged if it isn't already being prepared. If you need anything, I'll just be working on some reports."
"Understood."
It had been a long day but now that he knew Spock was recovering, McCoy felt as though he could relax some and catch his breath. He was technically off duty and had been for about an hour but he just wanted to sit in his office, have a drink and finish some paperwork before he left for dinner. He poured a small amount of bourbon in the glass and found himself staring at the caramel color swirling. That beautiful color…and his mind followed the dots to where else he had seen that color - Tonia Barrows' hair.
In a smoky theater a smarmy announcer could be heard informing the crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen, the act you have all been waiting for! The one, the only, Tonia! Down a long stairway came Tonia Barrows with two enormous fans, one covering her in front and the other covering her back. As she danced and alternated the large fans, it was clearly apparent that other than flashes of sequins attached to her body in interesting places, the fans were her only costume. She whirled and danced and teased and flashed her great cat green eyes at him. She strutted up the catwalk straight for him, one bare but sequined leg, then the other. She stopped directly in front of him and leaned toward him, the feathered fans caressing and barely covering her flesh. "I have something to tell you, Leonard"
McCoy pushed the bottle back into its drawer and hoped Riley didn't suggest anything that would require him rising for a couple of moments.
"So do I, kid, so do I."