Library Pass

By

Pat Foley

Chapter 8

It's lovely down in the woods today
But safer to stay at home.

"Sarek," Amanda spared him a glance, but once he had closed the bedroom doors behind them, he'd lost something of his uneasy air, and seemed calm and even indifferent as he undressed, "why did you pull me out of there, and so abruptly? I know you said you were hungry. And not this kind of hungry. And T'Rueth is going to kill me for leaving a mess in her kitchen."

"It is our kitchen. Despite all evidence to the contrary," Sarek said, a trifle wryly, pulling his tunic over his head, and thinking about what he'd just encountered. He repressed a growl from his stomach and further considered his unsatisfied hunger. "Ours."

"What's that's supposed to mean?" She asked, startled.

"It is of no consequence. And no, she will not." He shucked his pants and tossed his discarded clothes into the 'fresher, on the way to take a brief sonic shower.

"Still, it's not like you at all to change your mind like that," Amanda called after him.

"You have often stated it is your right to …'change your mind', Amanda," he said, re-entering the room. "I have previously noted your very quixotic behavior."

"Quixotic, am I?" she repeated, not quite sure if she should be offended at that characterization. And decided she didn't have the energy. Still… "I don't think I'm so very--"

"Do I not have equal rights?"

"You want equal rights?" she asked, astonished. "In this marriage? Oh, my." She shook her head, now amused, "Be careful what you wish for my very Vulcan husband," she teased. "You might not like what you get. What's sauce for the gander is very much sauce for the goose."

"Must I remind you that Vulcans are vegetarians?" He came up behind her, skin glowing slightly green from the sonics. "In this household, neither the gander nor the goose is to be…sauced. Though the goose in question can be very saucy."

She laughed. "No more puns, you do them very ill. Anyway, the right to illogically change one's mind is characteristically relegated to females. Human females. You," she looked his naked form up and down, "are disqualified on both criteria. Unequivocally disqualified. Not that I would have it any other way."

"So I see that I am to be un-emancipated in this regard."

Amanda gave him a look. "My dear husband, if you were any more emancipated, I'd be an Orion slave girl."

"A very tempting thought," he helped her undo her gown, massaging her shoulders. "I shall seek to further emancipate myself immediately."

"Um…" she half closed her eyes, wondering if all Vulcans had magic fingers, or if she was just lucky in that regard. "Not that I'm saying I would be an unhappy Orion slave girl. In fact, rather the opposite."

"There are certain advantages to such …companions." He dropped a kiss on the nape of her neck. "How does one go about it?"

"Sarek," She shook her head, shivering a little at a further line of kisses. "You had your chance for a chattel, my dear. And you blew it."

"Very true. Yes. Yet there are times when I …almost…regret that myself."

"Do you indeed?" She arched her head to better accommodate that advancing line. "Well, if I were an Orion slave girl, I'd spend my life in bed and never have to organize any more of these diplomatic parties. That alone is a tempting job description."

"I think I prefer you human, my wife. But were you a chattel, you would have less clothing to remove." The line stopped at the fastening of her gown. "A considerable advantage, given you undress almost as slowly as you dress, my wife. You are a continual test and trial to my patience."

She drew a breath, tossing him a look over her shoulder. "Sometimes I wonder about you. Your veneer of civilization can at times be almost too thin to hide the Vulcan warrior underneath." She paused, considering that. "Though there are times when I almost regret that myself."

"What very illiberal views you hold, Amanda. I had no idea you were so…chauvinistic."

"You really are asking for trouble, aren't you?" Amanda asked. "Not yet," she said as his fingers went to the fastening. "It's chilly in here. I want to take down my hair first." Sarek shifted his tactics and began taking the pins from her hair.

She worked away at the pins too. "The presence of all those humans with their licentious ways was clearly a bad influence on you."

"Not merely on me," Sarek said, thinking wryly of his overpopulated kitchen.

"Perhaps we should have fewer parties." She tossed him a look. "Or perhaps we should have more."

"That depends on what trouble you intend," Sarek said, working to undo a stubborn ornament.

"Ouch, oh, thanks. The trouble I intend doesn't even begin to address the trouble you deserve. Sarek, remind me never to use this clasp again; it always pinches."

Sarek responded by tossing the offending clasp in the recycler.

Amanda made an aborted grab, but his reflexes were excellent, his aim was impeccably accurate, and the clasp sailed with Vulcan precision exactly through the center of the slot, and was immediately reduced to its essential atoms. "Why did you do that?" she asked, abashed and dismayed.

Sarek regarded her curiously. "If you never intend to further use it, it was pointless to retain it. Why should I then remind you of its inefficiency? It was logical to discard it."

"It was a perfectly good clasp. It was pretty. I liked it. It just pinches."

"Your statements, taken as a whole, are rife with illogic."

"You didn't have to throw away my clasp. In some things, you know human females have their own logic."

"So I have discovered. To my occasional dismay."

"Like I said before, you blew that chance. Too late to complain how you're treated."

"My apologies. However, I would prefer to quote from your favorite author and reiterate that 'I always deserve the best treatment, for I never accept any other.'" He drew her hair to one side to facilitate undoing her gown, folding her hand over the long strands to hold it in place.

Amanda laughed. "The latter part is certainly true."

Sarek paused in undoing her gown. "You are not too tired from the party?"

She tilted her head to give him better access, closing her eyes as Sarek drew down the fastening, shivering a little as he followed it with a finger, tracing down her spine. "Actually, I must confess that I hardly had to do anything for the party."

"I see yet another advantage to having servants, my wife. The innumerable ways it frees my wife for other…chores." Having undone her gown, he drew it from her, and replaced fingers with lips.

Amanda shivered at the feel of his warm breath and as he straightened and drew her hair back over the just kissed area, turned her head to give her husband better access to her throat. "So making love to one's wife is a chore, is it?"

"In the sense that one knows that in a disciplined individual chores must always be performed regularly, attentively…and with all due diligence." Sarek punctuated the phrases with kisses.

Amanda closed her eyes, almost too lost to murmur, "So that's what I like about Vulcan disciplines."

"And I as well," Sarek answered. "Indeed."

"I knew there was something…Oh…" Amanda sighed as he picked her up. And then they were too busy for words.

To be continued…

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