— Chapter 38 —
"Good day, sir," said the clerk working the front desk at Inn Above Tide, a small 31 room boutique hotel in San Francisco, with grand views of San Francisco Bay and the city skyline, and along with all that, the hotel's waterfront location meant easy access to eateries, shops and some upscale bars, to tie things off with a neat ribbon.
"Hi," said Trip, a gym bag tossed over his left shoulder, even as that same hand pulled a wheeled suitcase behind him. "I'd like a room until Wednesday morning, please."
"Certainly, sir," said the clerk. "I'll need an ID, please."
A few moments of back and forth as Trip's ID was passed, after which Trip slid his credit card towards the clerk.
"You did not inquire about our prices, sir," said the clerk.
"Listen, I don't care what price you're charging," said Trip, with a lopsided grin. "I need a room, and I'm going to have a room, so run my credit card and I'll cry over it another day."
"Ah," said the clerk with an amused smile, for he was a man of the world. "No more need be said about the matter. Tell you what, sir. One of our guests had to cancel his stay at the last moment, and I have a wonderful premium suite for you, for the price of a standard room."
"Much obliged," said Trip.
"A pleasure, sir," said the clerk. "My name is James, and I'm the manager here. Please don't hesitate to call on me if you and your guest need anything."
"Thank you, James," said Trip with a nod and a perverted grin: James was a good man, and James knew that Trip hadn't booked a stay here to play Solitaire.
A few minutes later Trip tipped the bellhop who'd carried his gym bag and dragged T'Fel's suitcase to the suite, and then Trip checked out the place. Premium indeed. A beautiful living room in a modern decor, huge bathroom with an indoor jacuzzi bath, king sized bed/playpen, a beautiful deck outside with some premium teak furniture, and a great view of the Bay. Nice! Very nice!
It was twenty minutes later that a knock at the door caught Trip's attention, and he opened the door for T'Fel.
"Did you get it?" said Trip.
"Yes," said T'Fel. "A chocolate cake from Just Deserts. I have it. I still do not understand why we could not simply order something sweet from room service."
"You'll understand when you taste it," said Trip. "It's THAT good."
"If you say so," said T'Fel, after which the Vulcan looked shyly around the suite.
Trip watched her silently, captivated by the woman's slightest movements. She was so different from every other Vulcan he'd met, certainly much different than T'Pol, but really, it's not like there was a rulebook of Vulcan behavior which mandated a sober demeanor… or perhaps there was, but no one had provided T'Fel with her own copy of that book. Even her Vulcan uniform differed from the norm on close inspection, for she'd had her gray uniform embroidered with some pretty floral designs in a thread just a bit darker than her uniform, and so not noticeable at first, and quite discreet, but still there.
T'Fel turned then, looked at Trip, and something about her expression made Trip grin. She was just so damned adorable!
And just like that, the Vulcan who had accepted Trip's suggestion that they find a nice hotel room in which to 'hunker down 'till Wednesday morning', and had seemingly accepted it quite casually, disappeared for a bit, behind lowered lashes and a furious blush... but then, T'Fel defied expectations once more, and spun round, touched her neck.
"My neck is sore, Trip," said T'Fel. "Right here."
Trip took the hint, slid the uniform's zipper from the neck all the way down to T'Fel's shapely buttocks, and once unsheathed Trip realized that they were truly magnificent buttocks. He bent a bit, to kiss T'Fel's neck, and just then a knock at the door disrupted Trip's nefarious plans for T'Fel.
"What now?" said Trip, with more than a touch of irritation: he was dismantling an explosive package here!
A moment later he had his answer though, as he looked at one of the hotel's staff, the man holding two glasses and a bucket of ice which contained two bottles of champagne.
"James sends his compliments, sir," said the man. "He believes you'll find this vintage champagne quite outstanding."
Trip fished out a $20 bill and tucked it in the man's shirt, and said, "I'll personally thank James for this gesture later, but give him my regards for now."
"I will do so, sir," said the man, and passed Trip his cargo, since this guest did not seem inclined to give him access to the room in order that he might set down the booze.
"A nice surprise," said Trip, turning round, but there was no sight of T'Fel.
"They have a jacuzzi tub!" said T'Fel, her voice faint.
"Yes," said Trip, heading directly for the bathroom with the champagne. "Yes, they do. Let's try it out."
As it turned out, taking a hot bath with a Vulcan was a great deal more fun than debating the merits of logic over emotion, and while they were still in the process of emptying that first bottle of champagne, T'Fel, who was unaccustomed to alcohol, was being silly now and playing with the turtle shaped sponge which was provided by the hotel, while she enjoyed a neck massage, courtesy of Commander Tucker.
Eventually though, the massage was over, and it was time for her to repay the commander's kindness, and she began her repayment plan with a series of kisses which were much appreciated, even as Trip ran his hands over T'Fel's body: and just then his comm unit beeped. Normally he'd have ignored such summons, but with the Romulans out and about that wasn't an option, for God knew what sort of mischief they were mixed up in, so Trip took the call, while T'Fel alternated between kissing his neck and nibbling on his ear lobes and neck.
"Tucker here," said Trip.
"Hey, Trip," said Erika. "Where are you?"
"Just exploring Frisco," said Trip, breathing in deeply as T'Fel found a sweet spot to nibble on his earlobe. "Something come up?"
"Don't call it Frisco. The natives hate it," said Erika. "Anyway, I was just wondering if you're staying out of mischief."
"I'm being good, I swear," said Trip, followed by a purposely subdued sigh as T'Fel kept working that sweet spot on his ear lobe.
"Mmmm, hmmm," said Erika. "Where's T'Fel?"
"How the hell would I know, Captain?" said Trip. "I'm not a baby sitter!"
"Mmmm, hmmm," said Erika. "Just be nice to her, Trip. T'Fel is a sweet girl."
Trip chuckled at that: Erika was nobody's fool.
'Is that an order, Captain?"
"It is," said Erika, and with that the captain ended the call.
Trip laid his comm unit aside, to put all hands on T'Fel once more.
"Does the captain have orders for us?" said T'Fel, before kissing Trip's neck and chin, in service of which Trip raised his chin to give T'Fel easier access to her target: that was Trip, always a Southern gentleman.
"Not us, just me," said Trip. "She's ordered me to be nice to you."
Intent on obeying orders, Trip filled his mouth with one perfect breast, and then the other, all while his hands glided over T'Fel, and then within her, which soon wrenched a soft moan and then some whimpers from T'Fel, and finally the sweet Vulcan could take no more.
"Well, it seems that you have your orders, Commander Tucker," said T'Fel, standing in the tub and then positioning herself gracefully on the tub's rim, in order to straddle Trip's face, "so do it. Be nice to me."
Now, if bathing with a Vulcan was the cat's meow, repeatedly 'mating' with this Vulcan on a king sized bed was even better, and the two lovers spent the next thirty-six hours doing just that, with only a few brief interruptions to nap, dash out for food and drink to refuel their bodies, and do a bit of shopping as well, because Vulcan though she was, T'Fel was still a female, and shopping held the same ritual importance in her psyche that a hunt with a band of brothers at one's side, held in the minds of men.
Back aboard the Columbia on Wednesday morning, Trip accessed his computer terminal to get an overview of the day's schedule and he noted that he had a message from T'Pol. He'd simply deleted her previous messages unread, but apparently he was in a masochistic mood this morning, for he opened the Vulcan's message. It read:
.
Trip,
I do not know if you will read this message, or not, but I will send it anyway. If nothing else, it will at least help me clarify my own thought process, for I have been doing nothing but thinking about us since you left the Enterprise. The thoughts I lingered on last night, in no particular order, before I finally fell asleep, were these:
How did things get so bad between us? Somehow, things got away from me, Trip, and I lost control of myself, and I lost control of the situation at hand, and I still struggle to make sense of it all, for my actions have brought us all misery, unintended though that was. I write you not to make excuses, but to shed light on what happened, and hope that you might one day, find it in your heart to move past this.
The first thing you must understand is that I asked for none of this, and though I have made a number of bad decisions, I asked for none of it.
The second thing I ask you to understand, is that this was my first pon'farr. I say this not to excuse my actions, but to tell you that I was truly unprepared for the raw, primal urges, which surfaced in my psyche, urges which I was in no way prepared to control, for such things truly are beyond the control of the majority of Vulcans. In my inexperience I was arrogant enough to believe that I could control these urges to a greater degree than was apparently possible, and that arrogance was the first domino to fall and in doing so, initiate an entire chain of events and choices on my behalf.
Next, I ask you to consider my mindset at the onset of pon'farr. You know that I have severed my engagement to Koss last year, the mate selected for me by my clan, and I have not sought out another, and thus, this unintended pon'farr caught me flat footed and unprepared for any of this.
I will tell you that you were first in my mind when Phlox diagnosed my condition, and things would have run much smoother had external events not taken you off the Enterprise at that point in time and kept you off the ship for too long, for I can truly tell you that if given a choice beforehand, it would have been you, and only you, Trip.
And so I suffered that first month, Trip, suffered waiting for you to return, and hanging on only by my fingernails at times, but hang on I did. It was only when your assignment was extended for a second month that I lost both, hope and control.
And it was here that the arrogance of which I've spoken of earlier, of believing that I had greater control of my instincts than was actually the case, came to 'bite me on the ass' as you Humans would say, for had I spoken with my people, I could have gotten myself reassigned to the T'Lek Sor and mated with you that first month. My people would not have liked it, Trip, but they would not have denied us, for the Bond is sacred among my people, but in my certainty that I could restrain myself long enough for you to return, I did not factor in the unpredictable, and so, it was only when your stay was extended that I realized the mistake I'd made, for it was too late to make arrangements with my people, too late for me to exercise any control for the journey from the Enterprise to the T'Lek Sor. In short, I was done, and I had to seek relief from the captain.
Now given the ending of my last sentence, I can hear you asking: if I simply needed someone to tide me over 'till your return, Archer should have been enough. Why add Reed? I do not mean to cast aspersions on the captain, for his understanding and his tact were appreciated, but his personality, and his sexual proclivities were not a proper match for a Vulcan gripped by the aftershocks of the pon'farr, Trip. I don't mean to dwell on this, but the man was too restrained, too measured and too passive to be an acceptable mate during this time period, and though he did provide some relief, it was simply not enough. Reed was a better match for me physically, though not mentally, or emotionally.
Now I will tell you that I greeted your return to the Enterprise with great inward delight, as you were the one I'd originally had in mind the moment that Phlox told me what was happening with me… Now I imagine you wonder, if I was truly waiting for you, and eager for your return, why did I not immediately sever my sexual contact with Archer and Reed, and here I will tell you that I screwed up, Trip. I was driven by a hormonal rush during this time, which was given to excess, and I allowed myself to get carried away by the pleasure.
Having said that, and having told you that I desire you, and you alone, I can imagine that you think me a liar, Trip, but that's not so. I swear it, Trip, you were the one. As proof of that I offer the fact that I had already cut the captain out by the time this all came to light, and I had planned to do the same with the lieutenant even as all this blew up in my face.
My previous paragraph naturally raises another question… if I had truly developed such a strong preference for you, and found such satisfaction in our coupling, why did I continue mating with Reed, even after I had dropped Archer, and the truth here is that I wished to approach you and discuss formalizing our relationship, but you never showed any such inclination, Trip, and I was concerned. Concerned that you might tire of me, concerned that you might drop me, concerned that I would be left in need, without a way out. I only wished for some type of sign from you that you were as drawn to me, as I was drawn to you, Trip, and that sign never came.
Now, I did not contact you to make excuses, Trip, and I suppose you will simply delete this message unread, as all the rest, so I suppose that this will simply remain a mechanism through which I might put everything in perspective. If you should read this, I do not expect you to forgive me, but I hope you will at least consider it someday.
T'Pol
.
Having read the email, Trip immediately regretted having done so. He didn't hate T'Pol, but neither did he feel anything for her at the moment. He just didn't care, so he deleted the message and moved on with his life… T'Pol later noted that the message's status was Delivered. Read. Deleted., and oddly enough, that satisfied T'Pol for that night, for unlike her previous emails, he'd at least read this one.