The Night We Met

Lieutenant Commander Una Chin-Riley, First Officer of the Federation's flagship, scientist, ace pilot, soldier, athlete, paced the main transporter room, eyes continually rechecking a wall-mounted chronometer and paying little attention to anything or anyone in her path. Specialist Kyle patiently waited, remaining safely behind his console.

Forward. 19:17

Back. 19:18

Forward. 19:19

Where is he, she thought, firmly resisting an urge for issuing a ship-wide page.

Back. 19:20

19:20:11

19:20:15

Athene give me strength.

"Number One?" an amused tone asked as Pike's hands clasped her upper arms preventing an imminent collision then dropped to his sides. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Huh? Oh." She stepped back and raised an eyebrow. "What happened to your usual 'carrot for your thoughts?'"

A grin framed his answer, "Your memo limiting my folksy horse expressions to one a day."

"Merely a suggestion …"

"Hmmm. Okay. We'll go with that if it pleases you. Anyhoo, I'm saving up for the best moment." Kyle snickered in the background. Pike winked at him. "Doesn't the b …"

Una interrupted him with a vigorous head shake.

He smoothly pivoted, "performance start soon?"

"In thirty-eight minutes, 8:00pm," she confirmed. "At this rate, we're going to miss the opening …"

The Captain turned to his transporter expert, "Mr. Kyle, you're authorized to waive norms and beam the Commander's party directly to the concert hall. Please coordinate with local staff."

"Aye sir."

Una's foot tapped. 19:25

19:26

Kyle said, "Commander Chin-Riley, Doctor M'Benga asks to speak with you."

She walked to the intercom on the far wall. "Joseph, this is cutting it close. Almost too close."

"My apologies. And my loss. I can't come with you. Such is the life and, at times, lament of a physician."

Pike immediately switched to concerned leader, calling out, "What's up?"

"Nothing life-threatening. Our resident Chiroptera, Ensign Svatna, came out of hibernation early. With our Chief Medical Officer off ship, I need to be on hand in case of complications."

"Join me at intermission?" Una suggested.

M'Benga paused. "Ah … No. My seat shouldn't be wasted on the small chance I can attend later, another should enjoy the entire production. You called in too many owed favors for these tickets. Again, I'm sorry."

It was imperceptible to most, but Pike caught the very brief change in her expression, the moment Una permitted visible disappointment. She said, "Joseph, I understand. Of course you should stay. I'll bring you a vid."

All in the transporter room heard the smile in the doctor's voice, "That's why you're our favorite Number One."

"Keep me informed," Pike instructed then ordered the communications link terminated. He immediately approached Una and offered his arm, "May I have the privilege of escorting you?"

She shook her head. Her smile softened the refusal. "Thank you, Chris. It's kind of you, but no. You've been looking forward to time at your other home." And ballet isn't your idea of an enjoyable night out, she added in her head. Una understood more than most Pike's Montana property was a sanctuary for him. Sometimes with company, as often as not solitary. There he puttered with chores around the ranch and put aside his many responsibilities. Correctly intuiting he wasn't ready to accede, she reassured, "I'm fine on my own and I'll donate the ticket."

Pike held her gaze, assessing. Matching him, her determination never wavered.

He looked away first.

No one, not even Captain Christopher Pike who routinely faced down hostiles, beat his first officer when playing chicken.

"Alright then, I do have a date with my mare …" he said.

Kyle almost successfully held in his laughter. The noise he emitted was a cross between a cough and a sputter. Una pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

"A mare is a horse you see …" Pike began explaining.

"Yes, yes. Anyone who's been on board three hours has learned this," she commented dryly. "And just a reminder, if you have to explain the joke, it's doesn't work. Please tell me you did not include that line in your farewell speech to the cadets."

He rubbed his chin. "Well …"

Una began with a snort. "I can't leave you on your own for even a minute. How in the universe does a being who delivers brilliant off-the-cuff remarks in the midst of a crisis, words inspiring us and promising we will make it home despite the perils and long odds, words we accept on faith simply because you said them, how does this same being descend into … into …"

"Flat jokes, stammers, bad puns, and horse metaphors?" Pike helpfully finished.

"I was going to say embarrassing Dad," Una countered.

The smile Pike bestowed in answer was inscrutable. He then pronounced, "Talent. And part of my charm." Before Una could reply he continued, "Mr. Kyle, time to begin the lady's shore leave." As she climbed onto the transporter pad, Pike added in a firm tone, "Number One, except for my explicit instructions, you aren't permitted back on board these next three days. For a change you're going to recreate during leave rather than work."

Another cocked eyebrow. "Is that an order?" she challenged.

And lost.

"If it has to be. Energize Mr. Kyle."

ooooo

Typically Una favored a uniform to civilian clothes. She's sacrificed everything in order to achieve a place in Starfleet rendering career officer her single outward identity.

"Commander," a friendly voice said in a hello.

Una looked up at the women smiling down at her: tall, dressed in flowing black wide-legged pants, ankle-strapped high-heeled black sandals, and a silky white blouse. Suddenly feeling conspicuous and out of place, she tugged at her gold jacket.

This stranger gestured at the seat on Una's right. "That's me." After settling into it she observed in a soft voice, "There really is nothing like a woman in uniform." Then the house lights lowered, the dancers took their marks, and the orchestra began.

Throughout the first and second act, Una cast quick peeks at her seatmate, her eyes darting to the right without a turn of the head, building a systemic list of attributes: delicate profile, skin fair and smooth, a textbook peaches and cream complexion, light auburn hair more red than the brown softening it with complimenting strands of gold and earth. A posture and style which exuded grace. The woman sat with her long legs crossed and her attention focused on the performance. Now and then her lips curled in a slight smile and her slender hands, long fingers neither straight nor curled fanned in a relaxed arc thumb parallel with index finger, echoed the hand movements of the dancers.

Una missed the stolen glances in her direction. When the lights came up for intermission, she blinked in the sudden brightness and without plan or thought followed her seatmate into the lobby.

Turning to face Una the woman said, "Commander?"

"Actually, it's Lieutenant Commander," Una corrected.

"Oh. I never did quite grasp the stripe pattern on a Starfleet officer's sleeves. Guess I just gave you the equivalent of a field promotion." The woman's smile was infectious and extended to her eyes. She held out a hand. "I'm Erin. No rank. Just plain Erin Kenley."

"Chin-Riley." A pause. "I mean Una … Una Chin-Riley that is." Now who's stammering, she thought remembering the earlier conversation with Chris.

"Well then, nice to meet you Lieutenant Commander Una Chin-Riley." Erin's smile widened. "That's quite a mouthful. Champagne?"

Una firmly directed her thoughts back from a very different mouthful she was imagining. And raised her eyes from Erin's slightly gaping blouse. "Ah … yes … good."

"You wait here, I'll get it," Erin offered.

Unsure what to do with her hands, Una clasped them behind her back in the fleet's 'at-ease' position as she watched Erin retreat. Despite the high, thin-heeled sandals, her walk was the smooth glide of a dancer, shoulders down and back, head up, spine straight yet without tension. Una admired the slight sway of her hips.

She returned with the drinks, handing a flute to Una. Here in the lobby with its bright chandeliers, Erin's hazel eyes were more green than gold or brown. Realizing her inattention, Una quickly tuned into the other woman's words.

"… since we're both on our own tonight, I assume you are on your own because you never spoke to the man in the seat on your left, anyway, if you are on your own, or not … if you are free later, any interest in a late supper? It would be nice to chat about tonight's performance with someone … There's a good bistro nearby."

"Yes," Una said immediately and without hesitation. "I'd like that."

ooooo

The restaurant was four blocks from the concert hall in a leafy business enclave with cobbled sidewalks. After Erin's amicable chat with the host, she and Una tucked into a small booth in a quiet corner of the room. "Everything here is good," she said as they perused the menu. "Their Le Ravier is my favorite. And the fries." At Una's quizzical expression she explained, "Your choice from a mélange of vegetable salads, served tableside from a trolley. Meant to be an appetizer but I never seem to get past it."

After their orders were placed and during the meal, they discussed the evening's ballet performance. In the low light of table lamps and votives, Una catalogued Erin's eyes presented gold more than brown or green. That she dipped her French fries in mayonnaise, that she smiled easily and often.

That Erin never mentioned a significant other.

"Coffee at my place?" Having gained Una's attention, Erin repeated, "Coffee at my apartment? Your company is … nice. Maybe the evening doesn't have to end yet?" After a lengthy pause she added, "It's okay if the answer is no."

"Yes."

"Ah … not sure if you mean …"

Una clarified, "Yes, I'd like that."

ooooo

Una decided Erin's apartment reflected its owner, charming, playful, yet calm with greys, beiges, nude leather, black metal, and blonde wood. It wasn't crowded nor minimalist, it hinted at feminine without being overt with bits of pink and rose colors which called back to the exposed brick walls. The artwork was whimsical, the curtains flowing and ethereal. Vintage ceramics and books dotted tables. No walls separated the living, kitchen, or dining areas and the ceilings were high giving an airy, loft vibe. In the living room a large, deeply cushioned white sectional with chaise at one end was littered with plump pillows and cozy throws.

"Coffee or something stronger?" Erin queried. She waved towards the living area. "Please sit."

Una chose a drink for sipping and thus prolonging the evening. "Ah … stronger."

"Whiskey or cognac?"

"Whiskey."

While digging through a cabinet, Erin said, "Somewhere I have a twelve-year old bottle of scotch my brother gave me." She held it up with a triumphant look. "Will this do?"

Una noted the label, "Very well."

Erin entered the living area barefoot, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a snifter of brandy cradled in the other. Without the heels Una judged Erin's height to be around five feet nine inches compared to her own five feet eleven. And that spread warmth throughout her body. Slow dancing is best when comfortably cheek to cheek. A pause. Where did that come from? Hold your horses. Thanks, Chris, for rubbing off on me, now I not only speak in horse expressions, I think in them too.

After handing Una the tumbler, Erin curled up on the sofa, legs tucked under her thighs. Her forehead creased though Una was unsure whether this was in disapproval or amusement. Una settled on amusement as the corners of Erin's mouth had ticked upward as well.

"Commander." When Una opened her mouth preparing to correct the rank designation Erin shook her head. "You'll always be Commander to me."

Una decided she liked hearing Erin's voice, wanted to hear it calling out her name as well as her rank.

Erin had continued, "However, perhaps we know each other well enough now for you to take off the uniform jacket?" Her eyes crinkled and then she teased, "Or do you have nothing on underneath it?"

"Oh." Una unzipped the jacket and shrugged it off, folded it neatly, and carefully laid it to the side. "At times I forget I am wearing it."

"Because the uniform is such an important part of you?" Erin asked in a soft voice.

Una nodded.

Erin resettled nearer to the other woman. "Tell me about the romance of roaming the heavens and what you've seen."

As Una spoke, Erin moved closer and closer to her guest. Her hand rested on Una's arm. Her attention to Una's descriptions was rapt and whole. As the conversation wound down and silence replaced it, mere inches separated their bodies.

"You make the life of an explorer sound wonderous. And I imagine it is," Erin remarked.

"It's a privilege," Una responded. "I'm fortunate."

"Ah …" Erin began.

Una interrupted, talking of the recent presidential election. Then steered the conversation in another direction. And another, and another.

"Una," Erin said.

She looked up realizing this was the first time Erin had chosen to use her first name.

Erin clasped both of Una's hands in hers. "I like talking with you, I do. But do you want to continue playing patty-cake or explore what I think we both are feeling? This mutual and intense attraction to the other?"

Una stared at her.

"In other words, do you want to spend the night in my bed, with me, making out? I apologize if I have misread the cues and your sexual preferences are different."

An eyebrow cocked. In answer Una's hand moved to Erin's face, thumb and forefinger curving around Erin's jaw, the remaining fingers resting against the side of her neck. Both leaned forward. They kissed and parted.

Erin's hand drifted to Una's upper arm. Una tilted the other woman's chin up. They kissed again, varying the pressure of their lips as it lengthened, first featherily light, then hard, before repeated cycles of easing and increasing. Una nipped Erin's lower lip. Erin's hand moved to the side of Una's breast, caressing and fondling before slipping down to Una's waist.

When they parted this time, both were breathless; their foreheads met between pants, and remained together until their breathing settled. Erin trailed a finger down Una's sternum, between her breasts, across her abdomen. Una released two buttons of Erin's blouse pushing its sleeves off her shoulders, spanning a hand across Erin's collarbone.

Erin's breath hitched. "Too many clothes," she muttered, tugging at Una's crew shirt.

Una shooed the other woman's hands away. "Not yet. I like feeling your touch through the fabric." Her hands clasped Erin's cheeks, one slid into the locks of shoulder length red hair. Una initiated another kiss, first tender and chaste, then probing.

Erin welcomed the added intimacy and returned it. Amplified it. Her arms wrapped around Una's waist. "Bedroom," she said in a low throaty tone.

Down the connecting hallway they walked, stopped and started again, twisted and turned, in a dance of kiss, caress, and play. Erin finished unbuttoning her blouse and tossed it on the floor. Una unhooked the other woman's bra; whispering in her ear as she did so, "Tell me what you like."

Which Erin did, in detail while unzipping Una's pants. Erin's bra joined her blouse on the floor. Una's pants and underwear joined Erin's bra in a trail of discarded clothing. Una unhooked her own bra but left it in place. When they reached the bedroom, Erin was stripped to her tiny underwear, Una to her crew shirt and gaping bra.

They collapsed on the bed, Una's arms twined around Erin's waist, hers around Una's shoulders and upper back. Erin wrapped a leg around Una's waist, her calf resting against Una's bum.

Una moaned. Erin smiled. The night began.