Wiping the accumulated moisture off the bathroom mirror, Trip looked himself in the eye, a stern expression on his face.
"You remember who you are and who she is," he admonished himself as he wrapped the towel around his lean hips. "No funny stuff. You're an officer and a gentleman, and she… she deserves your respect." Trip nodded, his resolve steel.
Until her voice floated through the half-opened door. "Are you finished?" It held a touch of amusement, and Trip groaned, banging his head gently against the mirror.
"Yeah, be right there," he called out; scrubbing a hand towel over his wet hair, Trip glanced around, wondering what he was going to wear. Spotting a pair of trousers and a shirt on the towel rack he knew weren't there when he hopped in the shower, Trip picked up the pale cream clothes and glanced at the door. When had she put them there? How much had she seen? Even though he was fully familiar with the translucency of the shower stall, Trip's eyes automatically slid over to the glass walls as a frisson both unease and thrill went through him.
Pulling off the towel and slipping the pants on, he realized the material was a soft, well-worn cotton, and incredibly comfortable. As he buttoned the top, for a brief second Trip wondered if the woman would let him keep the outfit. He looked dammed good in it, if he did say so himself…
Laughing at the absurdity, Trip opened the bathroom door to find the cabin lights dimmed and that the slave girl had changed from her leathers to a short, gold- shot, diaphanous shift that exposed and concealed tantalizing hints of her body as she moved.
"Feel better?" He could only nod as she came up to him and combed her fingers through his damp hair, taming the mess he had made with the towel. "Come and eat then."
The woman tugged on his hand, leading Trip the short distance to his worktop where a small dinner had been served on the plates. "Lamb with honey and almonds, marinated eggplant and tomato salad, and flatbread. And wine, of course."
"Of course," Trip echoed, sitting down and picking up a curiously shaped two-pronged fork. He speared a piece of the lamb at her smiling urges, and almost moaned in delight at the sweet, tender taste.
"This is good," he mumbled around a second crunchy mouthful, watching as the woman daintily broke off a wedge of the flat bread and placed a spoonful of the eggplant mixture on it. "Like this?" He ripped a chunk off and did the same.
"Perfectly," she assured him. Trip only hesitated a moment, but the lamb was delicious, so he bite right in. "It's good too." A warm tingly feeling surged through him at her delighted smile, and he grabbed for his wineglass and gulped down a fruity mouthful so he wouldn't have to think about it too much.
"… and that, darling, is why you should never get into a drinking contest with Malcolm Reed."
The woman's soft, amused laughter washed over Trip, and he smiled, happy and content. Everything had come together to make an absolutely incredible evening: the food, the wine, the setting, the music, the clothes, but most of all, the beautiful woman curled up next to him. They had been sitting on the floor for the past hour, leaning against his bunk as they finished the wine.
He stared at her, noticing again, or maybe for the first time, the deep dark pools of her eyes, the sweet curve of her mouth as she smiled at him. Trip felt the mood suddenly shift, to something more intense, and the slave girl must have felt it to as her smile faltered, and her eyes dropped.
"I must go."
The cold shower Trip had put himself through had nothing over the chill that went through him at her words. His protest died before it was born, however, as she gracefully got to her feet. Sitting, understanding why but not wanting her to go, he watched as the woman efficiently packed the remains of their dinner away in a small tote.
Finished, she came and knelt beside him. "Good bye, Trip." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek as she squeezed his hand that wasn't holding the wineglass. Standing, she picked up the tote and left.
"G'bye, darling," he whispered back.