Chapter 54

In one way, Jean-Luc Picard was correct; there was a conflict brewing between a man and a woman on his ship - and the woman was, indeed, Andile.

Picard would have been hard pressed, however, to have correctly guessed the identity of the man involved - for after all, even with his newly developing emotions present, Data was still not a person he would have associated with conflict - at least not a personal one.

And from all outside appearances, the conflict did not involve the android; he was calm, his voice level and uninflected as he spoke to the woman pacing the length of the quarters they shared - but there was as little room for compromise in his words as there was in the tone of her voice as she snapped back at him.

"No!" she roared, whirling around and slamming a fist against the computer desk.

Startled, Spot, the cat, jumped up from his place on the desk and dashed to the shelter of Data's bed. "I am _not_ going to bed, Data!"

"I am afraid I must insist," he countered politely, gently - but equally firmly. "Your level of physical exertion has exceeded the norms of human behavior, Andile; sleep is now indicated."

"Except for the fact I'm not sleepy!" she snapped back.

"That is not possible," he replied smoothly. "You have been conscious and on duty for over thirty hours; therefore, as your commanding officer, I must now require you to..."

"Data, you are not my commanding officer!" she snapped back.

He stared at her, puzzled and confused. "I believe you are mistaken, Andile," he finally replied. "As of stardate..."

"Data," Andile interrupted, "I'm not arguing that you are my commanding officer - when we're on duty - but we're not. On duty," she clarified. "We're off duty now - and our relationship to one another is not superior to junior officer. It's..." She hesitated, thinking for a moment. "Well, okay, I'm not sure exactly what our relationship is to each other - that is, _if_ we have a relationship," she added uncertainly. "But if we do have a relationship with one another, than we have to make sure we know what that relationship is - because if we don't, and you keep on thinking that our relationship is something that it isn't, then we're not. Going to have a relationship," she added.

He gaped at her, utterly lost. "Andile, I do not believe I understand what you are saying," he finally said.

Andile sighed. "Data, relationships - that is, relationships that work, relationships that are successful, relationships that _last_ - are built on mutual trust and respect! But when one person doesn't trust or respect the other, the relationship is doomed! And if you don't respect me, then this relationship cannot succeed - and we may as well give it up now!" she railed at him.

"But... I do respect - and trust - you, Andile," he protested.

"Really?" she said doubtfully. "You don't act like it. Every time I disagree with you about something personal, you pull rank on me! That's not respect, Data - that's bullying!"

"I disagree, Andile. I am only making decisions that are in your best interests - and I _am_ your superior officer," he reminded her gently.

"When we're on duty, yes!" she protested. "But not in our personal life, Data. There we have to be equals - or this isn't going to work!"

Seeing his stricken expression, Andile raised a hand, as much to calm herself as to keep the android quiet, then drew a deep breath and reached for the android's hand. "Come here," she said softly, then added a moment later, "Please."

Taking the outstretched hand, he allowed her to guide him around the table, then lowered himself into the chair beside her, puzzlement - and hurt - in his eyes.

"Data," Andile began gently, "I like you. I like you as a person, I like you as a superior officer... I like you as a lover. But those are three different roles - and one of the hardest things you're going to have to learn is that those roles don't overlap. When we're working together, you are my superior officer - but that means you can't be my friend or my lover right then. Fulfilling our duty to the ship, to the crew, to Starfleet, precludes that personal involvement - when we're on duty! But at the same time, when we're lovers or friends, you can't be my superior. It's not fair - to me... or to _us_."

"I do not understand," he admitted.

Andile smiled tolerantly. "I know - and if it helps, you're not alone. Most people - human and otherwise - have a hard time finding the boundaries between the roles they play, and a harder time finding those boundaries when they play more than one role with the same people.

"I can't speak for those other situations, dear, but as I see it, for us, it's a matter of... respect. I respect your superior knowledge and intelligence about this ship. I respect your expertise in those areas where you know more than I do, or where you have more experience. In those matters, I defer to you both from that respect - and because I'm sworn to obey a superior's orders.

"But when it's you and me, when we're off-duty and it's our personal relationship that we're dealing with, the respect has to be mutual - or this relationship isn't going to work. Dearest, you have to respect that there are certain aspects of my existence that I have superior knowledge and intelligence about than you do - and that in those things, you are going to have to defer to my decisions. If you don't - if you continue to try to pull rank on me about personal things, if you keep trying to bully me into doing what you think I should do, then you're going to destroy this relationship - and every other one you may encounter in your life."

Data considered the idea. "But you _are_ physically tired, and you _do_ require sleep," he added. "I was only concerned about your well-being."

Andile smiled back. "And I appreciate that. And yes, I am tired. But ordering me to go to bed? That may maintain my physical well-being - but imagine what it does to my mental health? You were treating me like a child - which made me feel as though you didn't respect me for the adult I am."

He gave her a knowing look. "But you do not take care of yourself, Andile; my order... my advice," he amended, "was taking that lack of self-care in mind..."

"... and assuming I was being a stubborn ass again," she said bluntly.

Data blanched. "I would not have phrased it in such a manner," he insisted.

"Of course, you wouldn't," she agreed. "You're far more genteel than I am." She patted his hand gently. "But I wasn't being a jackass this time, dear. This time, I was working from my personal knowledge of myself - and had you given me half a chance to explain before you ordered me to go to bed, you might have understood."

He studied her for a moment, then nodded in genuine contrition. "My apologies, Andile. I did not mean to be disrespectful of you - as a person or as an adult."

"I know," she replied softly. "You were worried about me - and that's sweet - but there are some times when you're going to have to check that worry, dearest. Like now. See," she explained, "I know my body and my mind better than anyone else - even you. I know that I'm tired, and I that soon, I am going to need to get some sleep. But I also know that I have to meet with the security officer that Worf assigned to the conduit check at oh-eight hundred hours - and that that is less than three hours away. Now, according to you, I should race back to our room, jump into bed, then wake up and hurry back to meet her. Logically, that would fulfill my physical requirements for sleep.

"But falling asleep isn't necessarily easy for humans," she reminded him. "We don't have a program that makes us sleep; we can't just turn a switch and be unconscious. We need time! Time to calm down, to relax, time to let go of what we've been holding on to all day long. Sometimes, yes, I can fall right asleep - when I'm watching over an installation, or overseeing a project where I need to be available and alert instantly - then I can drop off without a moment's pause. But that's not sleep, dear - not good, restful sleep.

"No, when I want to sleep - really sleep - I need to relax first. I might read for an hour or two, or listen to a little music, or work out a little - and then finally drift off when the edge has worn off - but today I don't have that option, Data. I have to meet the Security officer who's supposed to watch me check the conduits in three hours - and I have to be there, on time and ready to do my job. I can't relax, get a decent night's sleep, wake up and get back to doing the job properly - not in three hours!"

"You're conduit check could be delayed..." Data began to suggest.

"No," she said earnestly. "I can't let them happen - and please don't suggest that I should," she added pleadingly.

"But... why not?" the android replied, confused. "If you are fatigued..."

"Dear, I'm going to do this - on time and on schedule - even if it kills me," she insisted - then seeing the look of panic in Data's face, hurried added, "I don't mean that literally. But you have to understand: this is important to me."

"Andile, while the power anomaly you detected in the conduits is of concern to you from a designer's point of view, the implication of that anomaly on the ship's function, is , at best... trivial," he reminded her.

"Maybe," she conceded, not about to argue her intuition against his expertise. "But there's more involved in the check than just the anomaly, dear. Captain Picard's going out on a limb for me; he knows there's every chance I could be a saboteur - and yet he's willing to run the risk that I'm not - because I've told him that I may be able to find out what's wrong with his ship. I'm not about to betray that faith, Data; I'm not going to risk losing this first chance to prove myself."

Data stared at her, puzzled. "But you informed the captain that you did not believe you needed to prove yourself, Andile."

She reddened, embarrassed. "I... don't," she said after a long moment. "Or rather, I didn't - then. But that was then - and this is now. Then it was our egos fighting - his reputation versus mine. But now? Now, he's put himself and his ship on the line for me. He's shown faith in me - even if it is only in this one thing. He took this away from being a pissing contest about our reputations and made this personal, Data - and that changed everything.

"He's shown me faith, Data, and I'll not betray that faith now. I have to do that conduit check - and I have to do it right. That means being utterly and completely focused, dear - and I'm not going to risk that by trying to spend the next two hours trying to force myself into sleep - then finding myself exhausted at the exact moment I need to be at my sharpest.

"No; I'll relax a little now - but I'll sleep later," she assured him. "When I can. When I've done my job - to my satisfaction," she added.

He studied her for a moment - then gave a slow nod, understanding - a little - at last. "Thank you for explaining yourself and your reasoning, Ginger - and I apologize for my presumption in judging you regarding what appears to be a lack of self-care. I shall attempt not to be as judgmental in the future," he informed her soberly.

Andile frowned at the contrition in the android's voice; raising her hand to stroke the angle of his jaw, she shook her head slowly. "I didn't mean you had to stop caring about me, Data; it's sweet. But I am capable of taking care of myself, and I need you to trust me to do so..." She stopped, hesitated, then tightened her gaze. "What did you just call me?" she asked.

Data hesitated uncertainly, then replied. "Ginger," he admitted. "It is a nickname," he quickly added, explaining, "I have been informed that the utilization of such sobriquets is not uncommon in intimate relations."

Andile's brow creased. "No, they're not - but 'Ginger'?" she asked, more than a little perplexed.

"I thought it appropriate," Data replied.

She gave him a puzzled look.

"Ginger," he explained, "as in Ginger Rogers. The dance partner of Fred Astaire in a number of movies made during the early decades of the twentieth century," he added.

"Dear, I know who Fred and Ginger are - but why?"

"Because..." Data hesitated for a moment. "I do not wish to be indelicate, Andile, nor do I wish you to think I was not paying attention to my actions of the other evening - but I was unable to keep from noting certain... events," he explained.

"Events? What events?" she asked, confused.

He hesitated again. "When we were making love... During the points of your greatest excitation..." he continued, carefully avoiding the word that had sent her into a paroxysm of embarrassment before.

Andile reddened - but nodded for him to continue. "Go on."

"During those moments, you called me 'Fred'."

Andile blazed crimson. "I did? Oh, gods, Data..." she began, but he quickly stopped her.

"You need not explain; indeed I believe I understand - though, for a time, I thought that you were perhaps referring to another lover. However, after due consideration, I dismissed that possibility. Instead, I searched my data banks, concerning your personal history, as you have related it to me, and recollected a comment you made about your enjoyment of the ancient Earth movies involving dancing, and, in particular, those featuring Fred Astaire. Hence, I determined that you were calling me Fred in reference to that dancer - as we have been dance partners for the last three months - and therefore, I deemed that it was appropriate that I should call you Ginger in response." He looked at her uncertainly. "Is this not acceptable?" he added worriedly. "Should I select a different name?"

Andile stared at him for a long time, then slowly shook her head. "No. It's fine, Data. But... But why do you decide I wasn't talking about a previous lover?" she asked unhappily.

He gave her a curious look, as though the answer to the question was obvious.

And it is, Andile realized miserably, her stomach churning at the realization; Data was an android, yes - but even android's couldn't avoid noticing the obvious.

"I assumed you were not referring to a previous lover, Andile, because I do not believe you would engage in a relationship with a person unless you were emotionally and mentally prepared to devote the full amount of emotional energy to making that relationship satisfying," he answered her. "I would find it out of character for you to start a new relationship if you were still carrying the 'emotional baggage' from a previous one."

"Oh!" Andile said, startled by the revelation - and more than a little pleased by the praise.

But, she reminded herself grimly, it was only begging the real question, the one that would have to be asked at some time.

So why not now - before she picked up any more 'baggage' than she already had - or before she unintentionally dumped anymore than she already had on Data?

"Thank you, dear - though I think you give me more praise than I deserve. I thought..." She hesitated, drew a deep breath, then started again, "I thought you were going to say that you didn't think I had had any other lovers because... of how I look," she finished.

Data gave her a stare of pure bewilderment. "How you look?" he asked, truly confused. "But... you are beautiful, Ginger," he replied, honestly - and certainly.

Andile stared into the golden eyes for a moment - then slowly shook her head. "Data, you're an android; you don't know what human beauty is - at least not the way humans know it - but you do know the concept. And I know what I look like. This face..." She reached to her face, touching the high, sharp cheekbones that protruded too sharply beneath the too-thin layer of skin - then set her hand down. Shaking her head, she looked down, away from the android. "I know what I look like, Data - and it is not beautiful."

He reached to her, gently placing his fingers beneath her chin, then guided it up so her eyes, when she opened them again, would be facing his.

Which, he realized a moment later, she was not about to do.

For a moment, he considered asking her to do so - but then stopped himself. There were other, far more effective ways of having her open her eyes - and he knew which one would be most appropriate.

He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to hers.

Startled, her eyes flew open - and met the golden ones of the android as he pulled back from the tender kiss.

He fixed her with an unflinching stare. "Ginger, we have discussed the nature of language as it relates to emotion; what you define as joy, I might proclaim happiness; what you would call grief, I may call sorrow. But despite these differences in nomenclature, there would be no arguing that at the heart of the feeling is an emotion that is the same, despite what name we assign it. Pain is pain - and bliss is bliss.

"But I have also studied many other aspects of humanity - including beauty. I know it is subjective; I know that no two humans can define beauty in the same way. I know what artists have defined it as being; I know what poets have called it. I have read plays about it, read books about it, studied art that espouses to display what the nature of beauty is," he informed her. "Each defines it in different terms - but it does not change the nature of what beauty is.

"And it is you," he declared quietly. "No; you are not beautiful, Andile," he told her. "Rather, you are beauty itself."

Andile stared at him, the tears welling in her eyes - then forced a smile to her lips.

"Are you trying to seduce me again?" she asked. "Because if you are, this is a damned fine way to start," she advised him.

Data considered for a moment - then shook his head. "Unfortunately, that is not advisable," he replied sorrowfully.

Andile pursed her lips unhappily. "I suppose you're right; I don't want to fall asleep - and if last time was any guide, that's precisely what would happen." Andile forced a tired and disappointed smile to her face. "Thank you, dear - for being more concerned about my needs than about your own," she added hastily. "Given the chance, most men would rather just get to it when they can, and damned be the consequences," she sighed.

"Get to it?" he echoed.

"Make love," Andile explained.

"Ah," he exclaimed - then gave her a puzzled look. "But... you are back on duty in less than three hours," he reminded her, seemingly confused.

She smiled back, taken aback by the remark. "Yes? So?"

He thought for a moment. "So there would be insufficient time to make love," he finally told her.

It was Andile's turn to wear the puzzled expression. "Fred, I know I fell asleep the first time - but just how long do you think it takes?"

Data considered the question for a moment, then gave his answer. "My experiences with human sexuality are not extensive, Andile, however, based on what practical knowledge I have, and upon your responses of the other night, I have calculated that we should allow a minimum of at least five hours - though eight hours or more would permit me to obtain a greater familiarity with your responses as well as your preferences for various acts, techniques and or positions, and therefore be better able to satisfy you more completely during our future encounters."

She gawked at him, then barely managed to gasp out, "Eight... _hours_?"

He looked at her, taken aback by the tone of her voice. "If that is not sufficient," he quickly amended, "I can modify my program to extend the period of time..."

"No!" she interrupted quickly. "Eight hours is fine. More than fine," she added. "Gods, I'm not going to be able to walk for a week," she murmured to herself.

But her words, soft as they were, didn't escape the android's hyper-acute hearing.

"Andile, I was not suggest we engage in continuous physical intercourse for eight hours," he clarified.

Andile stared at him, then gave a sigh of relief. "By the gods, I would hope not..."

"The eight hours was my estimate for the time necessary to properly engage in assessing your preferences. Only after that point would we begin to actually make love," he clarified.

"You mean, eight hours of foreplay?" she echoed.

Data gave a single shake to his head. "Foreplay is for mutual arousal; in this case, I would focusing on your responses."

Andile's eyes widened. "You're going to spend eight hours just to figure out what gets me off," she repeated.

"Eight hours is my estimate - but if more time is needed..."

Andile raised her hand, silencing the android. "No, I suspect eight hours is going to be more than enough," she admitted.

Eight hours, she thought to herself, giving a shake of her head in disbelief. Eight _hours_! Eight wonderful, delicious _hours_ - or more!

She sighed, then looked up at Data again, allowing a slow smile to drift across her face. "I _knew_ there was something I liked about you, Fred," she murmured, then reached up to caress the angle of his jaw once again - then pulled her hand away and sighed.

"Unfortunately, tempting as the thought might be, this is not the time to find out if you're sincere - or all braggadocio and bluster," she murmured.

"Braggadocio?" Data replied, confused - then widened his eyes as comprehension set in. "Ah! You believe I am indulging in hyperbole," he said - then frowned. "But why would I exaggerate?" he asked her innocently.

"Because most men do," she replied.

"Why?"

"Why?" she echoed in surprise - then smiled again. "Because most men think they are better in bed than they are. Because most men think that they have to exaggerate to convince a woman to join them. Because most men are more than a little insecure about their sexual performance. And because, in reality, most men do not take women to bed for eight hours in a month - let alone in one night!" Andile replied. "And certainly not just to find out what she likes!" she added emphatically.

Her vehemence startled Data. "But if they do not assess their partner's preferences, how can they determine what are the most appropriate techniques and methods to satisfy their partners?" he replied innocently.

Andile's grin widened. "They can't. They just hope they can figure it out somewhere down the line - if they even care about that. A lot of men - and women, to be fair - are more concerned about tonight than about tomorrow." She drew a deep breath, then let it - and her rapidly mounting frustration - out. "But let's change the topic before I decide to become one of them."

Data nodded. "What topic would you prefer to discuss? I am well-versed in several hundred thousand topics, as well as having written an elaborate program for what the captain has described as 'small talk'. Perhaps you would enjoy hearing it..."

"Fred?" she interrupted.

"Yes, Ginger?" he replied.

"Actually, what I'd like to do isn't talk," she said.

He studied her, a troubled look on his face. "As I have stated, engaging in sexual intercourse at this time would not be advisable..."

"I wasn't thinking about sex, dearest. I was thinking about... dancing," she said softly, raising her eyes to meet his. "It's been a long time since we just danced."

He nodded - then cocked his head to one side, checked his memory files - and frowned. "Unfortunately, Andile, there are no holodecks available at this time. Two have been reserved by other crewmen for before-duty calisthenics, and the remaining decks have been reserved by those coming off shift shortly. And while I could claim the privileges due a superior officer..."

"Data," she interrupted, "except when you're worried about me, you'd never pull rank on someone - at least, not over a holodeck. Besides, we don't need one. We could dance here," she said, looking about the room. "All we have to do is move the furniture..."

Five minutes later, the android's left arm was wrapped around the engineer's petite waist, while his right arm held hers out a little more stiffly.

"Now just relax a little more," she advised him, "and if you can do it without counting..." she added as she heard the android's soft susurration, barely audible beneath the Strauss waltz that softly filled the room.

Data gave a brief nod, then silenced himself as he led the woman through the slow waltz step once again, turning her under his arm, then drawing her against his body once more.

"Is that better?" he asked.

"Delightful," she sighed, snuggling against his chest, her eyes closing as the slow rhythm of the dance took over control of her body. "Just delightful... Fred," she murmured. "See? I told you dancing could be relaxing."

Data hesitated at the remark; usually their dancing was anything but relaxing, especially as Andile guided him through the more elaborate steps of the samba or a tango, her cheeks flushing wildly, sweat pouring from her body - but always smiling, he realized suddenly. Despite the exertion involved in many of their dances, there was also a concomitant level of what he was beginning to recognize as pure pleasure that the woman derived from their shared activities in the holodeck.

As she was deriving great pleasure from this, he added, seeing the same beatific smile coming to her face as he led her in a slow pattern about the room - although without the profuse perspiration and gravelly panting that normally accompanied their practices on the holodeck. Indeed, he thought, this dance was quite the opposite; Andile's heartbeat was slow and even, her blood pressure lower than it had been all morning, her respirations even and smooth...

His eyes widened as the meaning of those numbers sank in. Despite his doubts, she had been quite correct: dancing, at least this slow, routine dancing, was indeed, quite relaxing for the woman! It was not a substitute for sleep, he reminded himself - but in lieu of proper rest, it was obviously having a beneficial effect on her!

Pleased - and relieved, for he had not been quite able to end his worry about her physical state, despite her assurances - he tightened his grasp about her waist and slowed his steps fractionally, hoping to encourage her to relax even further - but taking care not to let that relaxation go too far and allow her to drift into the unwanted state of sleep.

After another few minutes, the waltz steps had been reduced to little more than a soft swaying of the two bodies, Andile's head pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped about her narrow waist as he held her close to him.

"Nice," she whispered. "I could do this every night with you, Fred."

To his surprise, an upwelling of pleasure filled the android - and despite his usually recalcitrant nature, he felt a smile beginning to cross his face. He was... pleased.

Or perhaps ecstatic, he thought, wondering exactly which term best described his feelings of the moment.

And then wondering, for the first time he could remember, if the name of the feeling truly mattered. He was... happy. Andile was happy.

And this was nice.

He tightened his grasp around her, feeling her sigh contentedly as she melted further against him.

For a long time, neither said anything - then Andile pulled back a fraction of an inch and looked up at the android. "I like dancing with you, Fred," she informed him.

"Thank you," he replied. "I enjoy dancing with you... Ginger," he added a moment later.

She smiled at the nickname - but there was a flicker of hesitancy in her eyes as she did so. "Dancing's fun - but there's a limit to how much dancing I want to do at any one time, dear. I like to dance until I'm tired of it - and then I like to stop. Going on after that takes the fun out of dancing; it becomes a matter of endurance - and that's not what I want my dancing to be."

Data stared at the woman for a moment, then cocked his head to one side. "You are speaking about dancing, Ginger - but I believe you are attempting to bring up another topic and are concerned about hurting my feelings. You must not do so; you must remember that, despite outward appearances, I do not have genuine feelings. If there is something you wish to discuss, please do so. I will not be offended."

Andile stopped in mid-step, giving her lover a disapproving look. "One: of course you have feelings, Data - and I don't care if they came from a computer chip or from some bio-chemical surge in your brain. My faith taught me that feelings come from the soul - and if you have a soul, you have feelings," she said.

"But there is no evidence that I do have a soul," he replied.

She scoffed. "There's no evidence that any of us do, dear. But you do have a soul - I know it. If you didn't, you'd be nothing more than a machine. And you're many things, dearest, but you are much, much more than a machine.

"Even though sometimes I think you forget that," she added.

He gave her a troubled look. "What are you attempting to say, Andile?"

She grimaced, reluctance covering her face. "I.. Data, I don't want to hurt you -but the more I think about it, the less I like the idea of you spending eight hours - or more - just to figure out what I like."

Stricken, the android quickly spoke. "The period of time is not fixed, Andile; it was simply my estimation of the time necessary to properly determine the full range of your preferences and sexual responses to my various programs and then to create and implement a program that would recognize and utilize those preferences for your maximum pleasure!" he explained. "If you would prefer, we could implement that program over a period of days or even weeks, if you would be more comfortable..."

"Dearest," she said, silencing him with a touch, "I would be more comfortable if we weren't to implement a program at all," she said softly.

Bewildered, he looked at her for a long time, then asked, "Do you mean you do not wish to continue our sexual relationship?"

"Oh, no!" she gasped. "I didn't mean that at all! I just meant..." She hesitated, then reached for his hand once again, about to draw him to the desk once again, only to realize it was hidden behind the balance of his... their, she amended, furniture. She glanced about the room, trying to find the appropriate place for the two to talk - but there were only two options: the computer desk - and the bed.

Andile sighed. Neither was quite appropriate, she thought to herself - and yet they were _so_ characteristic of the two people who lived here: neither one of us truly has a life outside our work, she realized.

Reluctantly, she guided the android to the bed, lowering herself to the edge of the mattress, trying to make the moment intimate - but not too intimate, she reminded herself hastily.

As if sensing her discomfiture, Spot rose from her place near the pillows, then insinuated herself between the two, purring approvingly at their presence.

Andile smiled, thankful for the cat's presence - and oddly warmed by the feline benediction at her presence. Raising Data's hand to her lips, she kissed it gently, then raised her eyes to his. "Fred," she said softly, "I wasn't lying when I said I liked being your lover. I liked our night together the other night very much. It was... very nice," she sighed.

Data hesitated, remembering Geordi's sympathy when he had used the same term to describe his date with Andile - then reminded himself of that different people gave the same word complete different meanings. 'Nice' for Geordi was not the same as 'nice' for Andile; if his own reaction to her kiss - to even holding her hand - was any guide, 'nice' for Andile was something far beyond what mere words could properly describe.

He nodded. "I am gratified you enjoyed it, Andile," he began, "but by investigating your other sexual responses, I could initiate a program that would ensure your maximal pleasure each time we made love..."

"But that's not what people do, dearest," she protested. "At least, they don't do that intentionally. Not if they're hoping that the relationship is a long-term one. When humans do think beyond the moment, when they want to try to make a relationship last, they're not in a rush to find out everything about the other person the first night. They take their time. They become friends. They learn what each of them likes - not just in bed, but in everything! And in bed... in bed, they learn, slowly, through time and trial, what they both like, together - and separately. Sometimes, the sex is wonderful, sometimes it's only good... but it's not a program one or the other institutes just to get their partner off!" she said. "That's what a sex toy is for - it doesn't feel, it doesn't care - it doesn't smile when things go right - and it doesn't laugh with you when things don't work out.

"It's good - but it's not a relationship," she told him. "It's just a thing. An inanimate object.

"But you're not - and meaningless sex - even _good_ meaningless sex," she added with a smile, "is not what I want from you. And you shouldn't want it from yourself, either. If you want to explore human relationships, Fred, you should want to do it the way they do - slowly, one step at a time, with both the mistakes and the joy we have to face along the way.

"Dearest, half the joy in a relationship is getting to know the other person," she sighed. "There is no substitute for that journey that you can only make together - and trying to make the entire trip in just eight hours...? Well, you'd be missing the point of taking the trip at all," she concluded.

"Then..." Data began confusedly, "...you would prefer that your sexual experiences not be as pleasurable as possible?" he asked.

Andile grinned. "Data, all I really care about is that our experiences, sexual and otherwise, are just that - ours. Together."

He considered her words for a long time, then faced her, a serious look on his face. "I... I too would like that," he answered her, wistfully.

"I'm glad," she said softly. "But for now..." Andile stood up, then led Data back to the emptied floor. "Now, let's finish this dance before I have to go to work - and maybe we can start our exploration tonight - if that's all right with you," she added with a smile.

She didn't wait for his reply as she lay her head against his chest once more, her thoughts closed against anything but the gentle swaying of their bodies and the soft reverberations of the music as it played softly in the background.

She smiled to herself - and never saw the look of pain and sorrow as it covered the android's face.