Author's Note: In Chapter 36, Spock and Uhura engage in verbal and sexual play in a mental forum created by the Vulcan via a mind-meld.
As always, your comments are appreciated.
In a desperate effort to revive Uhura from unconsciousness, Spock attempted a mind-meld with the East African. After failing to connect with her essence, the Vulcan recreated the House of Diarmuid within his mind to entice Uhura to join him. As the prospects for her arrival dimmed, Teahouse Manager Diarmuid challenged the Vulcan's emotional readiness to contribute to the success of his relationship with Uhura.
"I do love her." Spock responded with great yearning. "I swear I love her with all my heart."
Diarmuid's face broke out into a wide grin. Then he remarked, "So, why are you wasting your breath telling me? She's the one that ought to hear it."
"Hear what?"
For a moment . . .
The Vulcan was taken aback by her sudden presence . . .
He rose up from his seat and took her in with his eyes . . .
The sight of the petite East African woman with the warm inviting smile . . .
Gave him much comfort . . .
For she . . .
His Nyota . . .
Had finally arrived . . .
Diarmuid took a couple of steps toward Spock and whispered in his ear, "And, this time, Vulcan . . . don't f**k it up!"
Suddenly feeling tongue-tied and awkward in her presence, he could only clasp his hands behind his back as he allowed Diarmuid to deliver the first lines to her.
"Well, here's my darling!" The Teahouse Manager exclaimed. "We were wondering when you were going to show up."
The East African did not take her eyes off of Spock as she answered, "There was nothing to worry about. I might not always be there when you call for me, but I'm always right on time."
The Vulcan had missed her quick wit . . .
Her enthused embrace of the spoken word . . .
Her agile turn of a phrase . . .
But, for now, Diarmuid still served as the ringmaster of the conversation . . .
"What's that you're sporting there, girl?" Diarmuid asked. "A new hairdo?"
"A what?" A surprised Uhura responded. Opening her purse, she took out a mirror and noticed her hair in her usual ponytail, but the texture appeared different. Upon feeling the smoothness of her hair with her hand, she shot Spock a look of indictment. "I suppose this is your doing."
"I thought you might want to try a different style." Spock remarked.
"Well, you thought wrong. I have never processed my hair, Spock. And, I don't mean to begin now."
"Well, ain't this a great start, Romeo." Diarmuid chided the Vulcan.
Spock disregarded the Irishman's comment and replied to her, "Nyota, you are a participant in a creation of my imagination."
"But I feel as though I have control of my own thoughts and actions."
"You do. However, it is within a construct that I have devised. It will be this way until we gain consciousness."
"Did I miss something?" Diarmuid inquired. "Just what in the world are you two talking about?"
"It is not your concern." Spock told him. "You may now bring us the water for our tea."
"Come now, Spock, where are your manners? Shouldn't we first take care of the lady's needs?" The Teahouse Manager said, before turning to the East African. "May I have your jacket, Nyota?"
"Of course." Uhura replied, seemingly pleased with Diarmuid's gesture. She took hold of jacket's pull tab to zip it down, but then suddenly hesitated as she looked warily at Spock.
"Is there a problem, Nyota?" The Vulcan asked her.
"Spock, you've already altered my hair. Shouldn't I now be concerned about what I might be wearing underneath this jacket?"
Spock commented, "I assure you, Nyota, you will find your attire to be both tasteful and attractive."
Uhura considered his claim, but then finally unzipped her jacket to reveal an ivory knit top with a layered black and white pencil skirt. The East African nodded approvingly, while Diarmuid shook his head as he draped her jacket across his arm.
"What's wrong with you, man?" He remarked to Spock with a tinge of disappointment in his tone. "You could have at least given us a little cleavage to look at."
Uhura's smile widened as Diarmuid moved away from the table. Taking a closer look at her outfit, she noticed her skirt ended just above the knee and stylish black leather boots covered her legs to a point above her calves. It amused her that not even in this imaginary world would Spock allow her to appear immodestly before other men.
"Are you pleased with the way I have attired you?" He asked smugly as if already knowing the answer.
She seated herself, while remarking. "I'm still not crazy about the hair, but the outfit will do."
"It will do?" He questioned, as he joined her at the table. "Does not the color complement your skin making it seem supple and radiant? Do not the style and fabric choices accent your physical attributes in a most alluring manner? I doubt if you could have selected a more suitable wardrobe for this occasion."
"You mean, according to your criteria."
"Do our tastes not intersect?"
"That's not the point, Spock. I dress to please myself, not some man. And, before you get too satisfied with your newly found fashion stylist talents, I should tell you there is something you neglected."
"I think not. If you are discreet, you will find you are wearing the appropriate undergarments."
"No, it's jewelry, Spock. Even in uniform, I feel absolutely naked if I don't have on at least a pair of earrings." She turned her head slightly and placed several fingers near her ear to draw focus to one of her bare lobes.
"It is not, yet, time for the adornment."
"The adornment? What's that supposed to mean?"
"It will be revealed to you in due time."
"That's a bull s**t answer if I ever heard one." Diarmuid commented as he returned to the table with a pot of hot water. "In a moment, she's going to get ready to leave us and it'll be all your fault."
"I do not remember asking for your opinion." Spock retorted.
"It's all right, Boss. As always, my commentary comes free of charge. After all, somebody has got to be real."
"Diarmuid, in this context you do not exist. You are merely a plot device."
"Like hell I am!" The Irishman shot back. "There's no way you can be at the teahouse and not have me here with it."
"So, you are equating yourself with one of the establishment fixtures?"
"I'm in your head, you damn fool Vulcan. I'm that part of your conscience that's here to kick you in the ass when you mistreat this fine girl."
Spock appeared a bit flustered, as he tried to remain calm. He curtly told the Irishman, "Leave us."
"Don't worry, darling." Diarmuid told Uhura. "I won't be far if you need me."
The East African grinned as the Teahouse Manager walked away. "You know, I kind of like that guy."
Spock poured the hot water into the two teacups, as well as, a ceramic pot on the table. "Sometimes, I doubt my judgment for ever introducing you to him."
"Diarmuid can be a busybody and a little crude at times, but he's a good friend to you. The kind of friend who may not always tell you what you want to hear, but instead lets you know what you need to hear." She watched as Spock opened a tea tin and retrieved green tealeaves to place in the ceramic pot. "Captain Pike is one of your closest friends, isn't he?"
"That is correct."
"What about Sevat?"
The Vulcan placed the lid on the pot. "Sevat never was and will never be anything remotely close to the definition of a friend."
"He seems to know a lot about you."
"I have no Vulcan friends."
"You mean, here, on Earth."
"There is no reason to correct me, Nyota. My previous statement needs no qualification."
The full impact of his words caused her to sit back in her seat. She thought, How lonely it must have been for him growing up on his home planet.While the East African knew any sign of pity would repulse him, there was something she wanted to know.
"Spock, you chose to pursue studies at Starfleet rather than the Vulcan Science Academy. Did that choice have anything to do with the lack of camaraderie you felt with other Vulcans?"
"No, that is not the reason why I did not accept an appointment at the VSA. One does not feel a lack for that which one has not experienced."
"Then, why didn't you study there?"
"This may be difficult for you to believe, but there are some matters upon which my people can be somewhat intolerant."
Uhura tried her best not to roll her eyes. By experience, she certainly knew what he said was true.
"Moreover," Spock continued, "while Starfleet facilities and research at the time were admittedly far behind those of Vulcan, I found my colleagues and research assistants to be more open to examining phenomenon heretofore believed to be contradictory to current scientific thought."
Uhura nodded, yet, she had a feeling something seemed to be unspoken. She decided to press on. "Spock, when you mentioned a sense of intolerance, did it concern your biracial heritage?"
Spock did not reply, but instead focused on the preparation of the tea. Disappointed in his unwillingness to share personal details of his life with her, she sensed a barrier between them she did not know how to penetrate. She then resigned herself to watching Spock as he emptied the water from the teacups into the pot.
"I don't understand why you put water into the cups and later poured that same water back into the pot." She commented, knowing he would feel no hesitation to speak of this particular passion of his.
"It is a method of warming the cups to ready them for the brewed tea."
"But you will place hot liquid in the cups, anyways. I don't see how first warming the cups will make much difference in the taste."
"Nyota, it is my hope you do not have the misfortune of being in the presence of someone who improperly prepares this exquisite tea for you. Warming the cups in this fashion is a time tested practice at least 2,500 years old."
"All right . . . all right. I should know better by now not to question your knowledge of tea."
"Perfect." Spock announced, after sliding his index finger slowly along the vessel. "You may try it, Nyota."
Uhura imitated the Vulcan's method of testing the temperature of the steeped tea. "It feels slightly cooler than other teas I have sampled with you or Diarmuid."
"What is it called?" Uhura inquired, as Spock filled their cups.
"This tea is known as Gykuro." The Irishman remarked, as he appeared with a small tray bearing honey, milk and sugar. "It brews at a lower temperature than most other teas."
"Diarmuid, why are you bringing those items to this table?" Spock asked, with his voice making no attempt to hide his disdain.
"I thought Nyota might be wanting to use it. When she had her tea lessons with me, she sampled green teas but didn't care for it too much."1
Uhura looked down at her cup and noticed the jade color of the tea. "I'm sorry, Spock, I didn't know you were preparing a green tea for me. Diarmuid's right. When I tried it, the bitter edge to it didn't sit well with me at all. So, I think I'll be better off if I just pass on it."
"So, what else can I get you?" Diarmuid reached for Uhura's cup, but Spock's hand stopped his progress.
"You may go, now." Spock told the Irishman.
"After I find out what else I can get the lady, I'll do just that."
"I have everything Nyota requires at the moment. Leave us, Diarmuid, and take your gastronomic nightmare with you."
Diarmuid hesitated, but finally snatched up his tray and begrudgingly moved away.
"Spock, he was just trying to help."
"If he already has had the opportunity to set your taste against green teas, then he has been no help at all."
"OK . . . OK. I'll try your brew." She conceded and took up the cup in her hand. As taught by Spock, she first held the cup to her lips and took a moment to allow the aroma of the tea to enter her nostrils and come inside her body. She closed her eyes as she allowed the warm liquid to flow into her mouth. She let the brew tickle her tongue for a few moments, before letting it escape down her throat.
Uhura opened her eyes to see Spock set down his own cup after having sampled it. "Did not your experience leave a hint of sweetness at the end of your tasting?" He asked, already assured of her answer. "The process of cultivating the tea leaves in the shade for its first twenty days of growth encourages an increase in the amino acids and caffeine in the plant. This method results in a sweeter taste upon steeping the leaves."
"Hmmmmm . . . " Uhura intoned.
Spock studied the East African, and then remarked, "That expression is a bit vague. Could you please clarify your intended meaning?"
"I must admit it tasted better than other green teas I have tried, but it seems like it needs . . . something."
"What possibly could be added to improve an impeccable cup of tea?"
"I think a little sugar might do." She told him innocently.
"Surely, you do not expect me to call for Diarmuid's return with his infamous tray?"
"I hardly think Diarmuid has the type of sugar I'm talking about." The East African replied.
When the Vulcan finally caught the glint of mischief in her eyes, he decided to play along. "What form does this sugar take?"
"It's brown sugar, of course. It is a scientific fact that brown sugar pairs quite well with something . . . uh, something . . . green."
"A scientific fact?"
"Oh, yes."
"Can you identify a particular branch of science that would be relevant to this discussion?"
"Culinary science, of course."
"I believe the field is considered more of an art than a science." Spock quipped.
"Food presentation is indeed an art; however, food preparation involves a chemistry in which something common is transformed into something quite extraordinary."
"Your description sounds more like alchemy, rather than chemistry."
"Why thank you."
Although amused by her response, the Vulcan replied. "It was not meant to be a compliment."
"And, I did not take it that way." She smiled and sat back comfortably in her chair. "I know who I'm dealing with."
"You assert you know who you are dealing with, yet, you remain at this table. There are many who may question your ability to judge character."
"You came for me." She said quietly, as she attempted to recall the experience. "I was drifting away . . . Funny, but I wasn't afraid . . . it was so calm, peaceful . . . I didn't know where I was going, but . . . I wasn't afraid."
Silence.
The East African could see it in his eyes . . .
Something unspoken . . .
And, she decided she would not continue to tolerate these silences between them.
"Spock, you must talk to me."
"Your tea is cooling. It will soon be below the optimum temperature for its enjoyment."
"Damn this tea! Do you really think I care more about it, than I do about you?" She pleaded, "Baby, don't shut me out. Talk to me."
Silence.
And, then he told her . . .
"I was afraid."
The Vulcan's stark admission took her aback. Still, Uhura managed to say, "I can't imagine you being afraid of anything."
"The fear of losing you was quite real. It was most . . . unsettling." He told her, now unable to abate the trembling in his voice. "Couldn't lose you . . . I couldn't lose you." He turned his face away from her, ashamed of his display of raw emotion.
"Oh, Spock . . . " Uhura cried out as she brought one of her hands over his. "I wasn't ready to leave you . . . I heard you call for me . . . I listened to your voice and followed its sound until I found my way back to you . . . You came for me, Baby . . . You came for me and that's all that matters."
"Taluhkmash-vehk'dular."2 He confessed.
"Once more, sir." The East African said playfully.
"Taluhkmash-vehk'dular. Nyota." He repeated with no hesitation.
"My, God, Man! Spock, are you still carrying on a conversation?" Diarmuid cried out from across the room. "Enough of that damn cerebral foreplay! Just kiss the girl!"
When Spock turned back to Uhura, her sparkling eyes and wide grin conveyed her amusement. The Vulcan remarked, "I suppose it would be appropriate for us to conduct our chemistry experiment."
"Would you say the conditions are ripe?"
"Most certainly. For the purpose of our test, you can supply the brown sugar."
"But, what should we do for something green?" She playfully mused. "As you had predicted, the tea has cooled to a point that it is no longer fit for our consumption."
"The blood that runs throughout my body has a green hue. Thus, I believe I may qualify as something...green."
"Under the circumstances, I suppose you will have to do."
Her lips parted to allow the tip of her tongue to come through the passage she had created . . .
She seductively slid the tip slowly . . .
So, very slowly . . .
About her lips until they appeared to shimmer . . .
And although the Vulcan's mouth shamelessly began to water in anticipation . . .
She was not ready to satisfy him . . .
Not yet . . .
The East African rose from her seat . . .
And, walked about the table until she stood a hairsbreadth behind him . . .
In this mental forum, Spock soon came to realize the East African's inhibitions would appear easier for her to disregard with no perception of real consequences to temper her aroused drive.
Sexual . . . . tension . . . rising . . .
Her hands cupped his shoulders and . . . as she placed her hands on his shoulders . . .
Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezed . . .
With her lips poised next to one of his ears, her tongue swept across its tip, giving rise to his arousal . . .
A sigh of pleasure . . .
Escaped from his lips . . .
Uhura whispered, "Baby, must we have an audience?"
While intellectually he knew the patrons in the scenario did not exist, Spock did not want to do anything to deter her performance in this experiment.
He informed her, "They have left us, Nyota."
The East African raised her head and looked about the room to confirm his claim. "Well, done." She told him.
"Then, if you are pleased," he suggested, "Come around before me where I can better see you."
"Oh, no . . . not, yet."
The Vulcan . . .
Gasped . . .
He gasped as her lips found the nape of his neck . . .
And, began to suck . . .
"Nyota . . ."
He finally found the breath to say in between his panting . . .
"You obviously . . . have been doing some . . . reading."
She lifted her head to once, again, find his ear and informed him, "To prepare for this 'mission.' I read about the Vulcan male anatomy. Dr. McCoy tipped me off to those euphemisms your physicians use to avoid using the term, erogenous zone."
"Dr. McCoy . . . you say? Remind me . . . to later . . . commend . . . the good doctor on his . . . AAAAAHHHHH! . . . medical expertise."
Then, the unmistakable sound of a glass breaking filled the air.
"Spock, get rid of Diarmuid, too." Uhura demanded.
The Irishman rose up from his hiding place behind a table and protested, "You can't get rid of me. He needs . . . "
Upon Diarmuid's abrupt disappearance, the East African showed her appreciation by sliding one of her leather boot-clad legs across his lap so she could straddle him. She felt the Vulcan's large hands hungrily grasp her hips to hold her firmly against him.
"Shan'hal'lak, Nyota." He told her with his eyes filled with desire. "I never believed such a thing was possible, but my own experience proves differently."
His lips upon her neck . . .
Nibbling . . .
Sucking . . .
Making her so . . .
Hot!
Yet, the linguist managed to say . . .
"Shan'hal'lak? . . . I do not recall that Vulcan term . . . What does it mean?"
The Vulcan raised his head with his face betraying a look of incredulity. "Nyota, would you rather I serve as a lexicon or make love to you? Which shall it be?"
"I would prefer the latter." She answered, although knowing by the lust in his voice and her own need for him that there was no choice to be made at all.
"Then, come woman!" He demanded as his hands grasped the hem of her skirt. "And, give me a taste of your brown sugar!"
Author's Note: In Chapter 37,Spock and Uhura deal with the reality of the physical trauma suffered as a consequence of the pon farr. Also, the Vulcan makes another confession about his love for the East African.
Your comments are always appreciated.
1 In one of the earlier chapters of this story, it was revealed Uhura secretly took lessons on tea from Diarmuid to become more informed about one of Spock's favorite pastimes. The lessons ended upon the Vulcan's discovery of the lessons and his disclosure asserting the activity to be an infringement upon an intimate practice Spock desired Uhura experience with him alone.
2 The expression is Vulcan for "I cherish you."