Disclaimers as in part 1. PG for suggestion, mostly.
Yes, I KNOW it's Harry in TOS. We're not playing on that playground today.
I Never Promised You a Rose Garden 7/? (ATOS-PG)
by Mistress V
Harcourt Fenton Mudd, known as Harvey, was waiting to meet his newest customers. As Mitchell had described him, the portly but jovial gent was full of overly solicitous charm.
"Welcome, gents and ladies, welcome to our fine establishment. What'll it be? Dinner and some champagne? Dancing in the lounge? A show? Or some games of chance, perhaps?"
"For now, we'd like a look around if you wouldn't mind?" Gary replied smoothly. "And how would you recommend we...divest ourselves of some credits?"
Mudd rubbed his hands together in undisguised glee. "This way, I'll show you the high points myself," he enthused.
The group was given the grand tour of the luxurious casino. It was full of happy patrons so business was obviously brisk. But the most aesthetically pleasing aspect had to be the glamorous female employees. No exaggeration there, and almost all the quadrant's races were represented. This included a Klingon, who manned a dabo game proficiently yet sexily.
In due course the couples split apart and positioned themselves as agreed.
Thava and Gary sat down at the sports book, where Mitchell began placing bets on a boxing-type match that was about to be broadcast live from the neighboring system. The Andorian crossed her legs, pouted her lips and looked bored for a few minutes, then began flirting openly with the bartender. Who just happened to be one of a few male operatives that managed to get inside the club as an employee.
Kirk led his nymphet partner over to a large vidpoker bar nearby and plonked himself in front of a terminal. He ordered drinks immediately but also made no secret of the fact he was slavering over every female that walked by. Sari was obviously just an ornament; it was clear his preference could change at will. But the Orion woman glammed it up and alternated between giggling appreciatively at her companion's victories and worrying over his painful (looking) sunburn. This gave Kirk plenty of opportunities to kiss her, which he did with gusto. Alas, it led nowhere. Despite her intentionally youthful appearance that night, Sari had not made senior agent for nothing.
Spock took a place at the tongo table, his chip holder the consummate silent butler at his elbow. There were at least a half dozen serious players already there so he slipped into gambler mode immediately. Christine gazed around nonchalantly, half searching for Roger, half observing the clientele, as she'd been instructed to do. She sipped at a glass of fine Risan champagne, grateful for the healthy re-dose of special antitox the physician had given them all before the evening's departure. The formula not only prevented a hangover, it neutralized the alcohol's effect in the body so the patron felt nothing but a slight flush. Of course, one could still *act* drunk and she knew she was under orders to get tipsy as the evening progressed.
"Chips." A perfunctory request from the Vulcan she accompanied.
"Sure, honey." She slid a stack to him while caressing his forearm but got no response. That was good.
The evening progressed. Still no sign of either Rick Kirby or Roger Korby. The casino got more crowded.
"Ya know, Harv," Mitchell said genially after he'd called over the roving manager. "My friend there and I keep saying that after we hit it big the next time, we'd like to take our profits and open a gin joint like yours. Maybe somewhere out in the Rigellian system, where there's plenty of room for...profit."
"A delightful spot and an excellent choice, good sir," Mudd replied, seating his heft at the next bar stool and accepting the drink Mitchell had offered. "Plenty of folks eager for entertainment and female company, especially out in the more wilder regions. Been there myself, you know."
"But how can we get a batch of talent like yours? What's your secret, man? I've been to the Vegas Planet and Wrigley's, and we even took in the Miss Quadrant pageant once. Nothing even comes close to the ladies you've managed to hire. We want the best, of course, just like you have. It's only profitable."
At this, the bartender brushed back his unruly but styled long hair and fiddled with his gold hoop earring, all the while concentrating on the holographic chance game between himself and his Andorian customer.
Mudd signaled for more drinks. "Everything is possible, my friend, everything. If you know the right people."
************
The club's doors opened and Christine almost fainted. There was the man named Rick Kirby, accompanied by the bouncer Rocco, who'd obviously just come off shift to take up inside duties. But what made her head spin was the woman on Kirby's arm. Beautiful, to be sure, but she was definitely of Cardassian origin and although the resort planet was neutral, that race was as much an enemy of the Federation as a Klingon or a Romulan. Except Cardassians seldom left their system, there was a war on. The prospects of how she'd gotten there were too much to contemplate.
"There's my partner," Mudd apologized, hastily vacating his seat. "Nice speaking to you, Gary. I'd better go check in."
"Why not---?" Mitchell's words were lost on the man's retreating backside. He turned to Thava. "Well, my bet got knocked out in the second round. What do you say we go for a stroll and play a little?"
"Why sure, baby. But don't forget, you promised us that moonlight sail later," she said petulantly.
"Course, honey." He slid an arm comfortably around his fellow operative, safe in the knowledge they'd worked together so often the chemistry between them was genuine.
Three separate vantage points observed Kirby and his companions. Mudd and Rocco exchanged a few words and then made their way towards an unseen office, no doubt to check on the evening's profits thus far. Kirby escorted the female on his arm over towards the dabo table where Mitchell and Thava were standing. They watched as he presented the woman to a well-heeled Yridian. From there, he began walking slowly around the establishment, a benign smile on his face. From time to time, he stopped to speak to patrons or employees.
"Powder you nose?" a voice said at Christine's shoulder. Sari.
"Sure, I'm dying to see what it looks like. Suppose it has latinum fixtures?" If Christine was nervous, she didn't show it. But her insides had melted into a volcanic goo.
"How you holding up?" Sari asked as they traversed the casino floor. Thankfully, the restrooms were in the opposite direction of Kirby.
"All right." Christine opened the door, glancing around nonchalantly. She pulled out her mascara and began touching up her eyes.
Sari did the same with a lipstick, having first ascertained, courtesy of the scanner in the tube's cover, that there was a surveillance device in the vicinity. She nodded at her companion and they changed tactics. "So?"
"They say eyes are the windows to the soul," Christine improvised, hoping her hammering heart didn't echo out into the main casino. "But I always say it's his voice that really tells it all. And Vulcans never say anything, so what am I supposed to do?" She gave a hard laugh to her image. "How's flitter boy? Where'd you meet him, anyway?"
Sari launched into her well-rehearsed lines. "In Las Vegas. He was there for some flitter show, and when he said his friends were going to Risa, I jumped at the chance to leave that dead end job of mine. I'm sick of being in the chorus, I want to be the star." She opened her eyes wide and gave her reflection an air kiss. "I figure where better to hunt for a new sugar daddy than here? Come on, let's go trawling. Old green blood won't even miss you."
"What about Jimbo?" Christine asked as they came back into the casino.
Sari only made a face that was universal to females everywhere. Then Christine grasped her elbow hard. Rick Kirby was standing just a few feet away from them, talking with a comely Bolian pit boss.
The Orion woman expertly steered them around the man's rear, where they paused to look out at the crowded floor. Although the venue was noisy, the conversation behind them was audible enough to make Christine feel slightly sick.
"Let's get a drink," Sari suggested. "And check out the talent."
Christine nodded, her throat closed off with dread. There was no doubt about it, the voice was Roger's, though she told herself she was imagining this.
They sat down at the sports book and ordered. The barman pretended to have a conversation with Sari, pointing out the supposed big spenders but in reality, they were exchanging information in low tones. Both women then toasted each other with a neat Aldebaran whiskey and they both downed their shots. From there, it was back to their companions. Christine negotiated her way to Spock's side, frowning theatrically when she sat down.
"Did you miss me?" she purred.
"Not particularly, no. More chips."
Sari returned to Kirk and wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed.
"You're getting drowsy, darling," she whispered against his mouth. "When I tell you to fall asleep, you're out. Got it?"
"What did you say, honey?" Kirk asked, feigning surprise as he maneuvered in for another kiss. His act turned real when a stiletto heeled foot made contact with his shin.
The play continued and Christine's act also continued. From her seat she observed Mitchell engaging the Klingon dabo girl in conversation while Thava spoke briefly to a passing Andorian hostess. As she was glancing over at Sari, her heart once again threatened to stop beating. Rick Kirby was nearby and he'd paused his conversation to look directly at her. For the briefest of seconds, their eyes met.
Then he began to make his way over.
"Honey," she whispered, even as she turned to watch the action at the other end of the casino. "Honey, listen to me."
"Yes?" Spock's voice was likewise low, so it was obvious he knew something was happening.
"He's coming this way and I don't know if he's made me or not. We have to act quickly. Here's what to do." She let her fingers trace the tip of his nearest ear as she spoke further, her expression outwardly calm. Inside, she didn't know whether to cry or scream.
What happened next took no one by surprise except those who knew where to look. Christine grabbed Spock and kissed him, expecting a repeat of the afternoon's quick, innocent peck. To her astonishment, he responded with ardor, although the contact was necessarily brief. Then he pulled back and said something in Vulcan. Rage crossed her features and she hauled back a hand, ready to slap. At the last minute she remembered his recently healed injuries, so she changed tactics and spat in his face instead.
"Vulcan pig!" she hissed, just before she stalked out in self-righteous indignation, crossing paths with Korby as she did so. To her relief, no one followed her.
Spock calmly wiped his face with a sleeve and resumed his game.
"Trouble in paradise, sir?" a smooth voice inquired.
He turned to find himself speaking with the mysterious Kirby...or Korby. It was apparent Christine had recognized the man but whether he knew who she was was uncertain. Spock knew to protect her.
"These Terran women, they simply do not know how to conduct themselves. They are amusing only for a short time," he said, with just a touch of scorn lacing his tone.
"I see. Perhaps I may have a solution for you. With your permission?" Korby had either not recognized his fianceé or was an award winning thespian.
"Indeed."
Korby motioned towards a bar and a moment later, the beautiful Vulcan woman from the intelligence photo joined them. Her eyes were obsidian, her thick dark hair drawn into a plait that hung over one shoulder.
"May I present T'Pera?"Korby continued. "She is at your disposal." And then he moved on to another patron.
"How may I please you?" the woman asked.
Spock slid the stack of chips in her direction and placed his hands around hers to position them the way he liked. "You may hold these," he told her. His neutral expression belied the surprise he felt.
**************
Christine hurried out into the tropical Risan evening, her heart thudding.
"Taxi, miss?" the new bouncer said.
"No, I'm fine. I just need to...cool my heels for a minute." She hrrmphed as she sat down ungraciously on a nearby bench. "Men."
The doorman took in a deep breath. "Just smell that jasmine," he observed. "Nothing quite like it, you know."
His words registered. Christine looked straight ahead as she gave the countercommand. "You should bottle and sell it," she replied dreamily.
"Everything all right, ma'am?"
"Yes, I just had to make a quick getaway."
"So I saw." The man indicated the small PADD he held, ostensibly to keep an eye on the clientele inside should an emergency arise. "You can check your messages here," he continued pointedly. "The reception's good."
"I'll do that." She pulled out her own personal comm device and hit a button. The view of the casino was almost as good a the one the doorman operative had. She decided to wait a few minutes before doing anything. Perhaps an opportunity to go back in would present itself.
Unconsciously, she touched a hand to her face. It was burring hot and not from adrenaline. Part of her was worried about the fact Roger had recognized her, though she felt he hadn't. What bothered her most was the fact that her insides had transformed from liquid goo to lit Roman candles. And all because of the kiss she and Spock shared.
His passion, and it could only be called that, had stunned her. She knew from shipboard gossip that he and Lt. Uhura had more than a platonic relationship, though it was speculated upon how much more that might be. And then he was a Vulcan, whose people did not kiss at all from what she'd read. Though what happened in private between couples was anyone's guess. No, the man who she'd just kissed not only knew how to kiss back, he was...enthusiastic in his response. She could still taste his tongue on hers, strong with the whiskey he'd been drinking.
The most important thing was to get through the next few days, she reminded herself. Once this mess with Roger was cleared up, and she was sure that would be the case, she'd be leaving the ship anyway. No more reason to be on board, Korby had been found. But now what to do with him? Rage still bubbled inside, rage at betrayal, deception, confusion. She breathed in the jasmine scented tropical air and sat, thinking.
***********
"Rock a bye baby, honey," Sari whispered into Kirk's ear.
Kirk, who was leaning a hand on his chin, merely obliged by closing his eyes and pretending to slide in and out of consciousness. But before he did so he noticed Kirby headed their way.
"Good evening," Sari said to the man, flashing her most flirtatious smile. "I don't suppose you have any tall, handsome hosts for me, do you?" She poked Kirk. "This one's got another 10 minutes and he'll be done."
"Not a problem, is there?" he responded pleasantly.
""No, he just overindulged too much. Sun, drink, I guess he's like a condemned man, eating his last hearty meal." Sari rolled her eyes. "Hopeless."
"Condemned? How so?" Kirby continued.
"He's about to face down a death sentence." Mitchell and Thava had now joined the group. "So he's going out in style."
"Death sentence?" A flicker of confusion passed across Kirby's eyes. Then he smiled. "Surely not matrimony?" he suggested.
"No, he's about to turn thirty," Mitchell corrected. "To him, that's death."
At this, Kirby laughed. "To be thirty again," he said with a slight shake of his head, then continued his rounds.
The minute he was out of earshot, Sari spoke towards her hand. "Coast's clear. Come back in," she instructed.
*************
Christine got the message on her comm device. She shut it off and stowed it once more in her evening bag. It took some doing to get back up, the combination of high shoes and fishnets was not a pleasant one on her toes.
"Going back in?" the doorman inquired.
"Yeah, my heels are cooled. Besides, they promised us a moonlight sail." She pointed up at the sky, where the full Risan moon was climbing. "Time to make good on that."
"Nice night for it. I'll get you a cab when you're ready."
"Thanks."
As soon as Spock saw her come back in, he leaned over and said something to his Vulcan companion. She reluctantly got up and left, a look of disappointment on her finely chiseled features.
"Ahh, you have returned. Good." Spock grabbed Christine possessively and kissed her long and hard. His hand investigated the neckline of the dress she wore and she felt his red hot fingers slip beneath the fabric and make contact with her skin. But she was too busy being kissed to protest or even react, except to enjoy what was happening. As much as her partner, it seemed. The oral contact continued for a few moments and attracted the attention of the right people. Then, just as abruptly as it began, the kiss ended. Christine fought to catch her breath and steadied herself onto a seat.
"I missed you too," she muttered.
Spock raised an eyebrow and looked at her sideways, but continued playing.
"If you two lovebirds are ready, how 'bout we head off to the yacht?" Mitchell asked.
"That would be fine.' Spock signaled to a nearby cashier, a pretty redhead, and converted his chips to credits. He then held out a hand and helped his companion to her feet, adding an extra coating of legitimacy to their relationship by placing an arm around her waist. Christine was still too stunned to react.
"Let's go," he said.
FIN of 7.
I paid a small tribute to DS9's Doctor here. Can you find it?