Just one more part of UST to go. I'm very, very sorry Dr. Spleenmeister.

Disclaimers and Warnings in Part One.

~Part Four of Six: 1950 Hours, Sunday~

"Tomas and I are going back to the hotel," Niobe said, freshening her lipstick.

"But the street performances are supposed to be really good," Et'Bet protested.

"You're going home with your man," she replied, fluffing her blonde hair, "I'm not. I'm going to enjoy a private performance."

Et'Bet giggled.

"What about you Nyota?" Niobe prompted.

"What about me what?" I asked; I was leaning against the wall refusing to take part in the fluffing and freshening.

"Maybe you should lose the couple and the Commander and find yourself some fun while you're here. Might help relax you more than getting stumbling drunk and having to be escorted home by Spock."

"I'm not really a fan of one-night stands."

Or one-afternoon stands for that matter.

"It'd be good for you," she said, leaning against the mirror and staring at me. "You've been spending way too much time locked up in offices studying – you need to let loose."

"I let loose plenty."

She sighed dramatically. "You need to have sex, Nyota Uhura. You need it more than anyone I've ever met." She blotted her lips, "With the exception of the Commander, of course."

I wanted so badly to tell her that the Commander and I were not in need of sex.

Of course I couldn't, for two reasons: First, I actually did need to have sex with him - lots and lots more sex - and second, there was the whole possible end of both our careers thing.

"Sometimes you sound just like Gaila," I said instead.

She smiled brightly and headed towards the door, "Think about it. I'll see you guys tomorrow - unless I decide to run off to the East coast for a while."

"Do you think she'll do it?" Et'Bet asked.

"Hardly," I snorted, trying not to think about Spock and me naked and intertwined and thrusting and…. Breathing now. "She's got more ambition in her left ear than most people do in their whole bodies. She wants to be a Starship Captain and no fling is going to get in her way."

Jenka and Spock were waiting for us outside the bathroom. Spock was patient, Jenka was not. He lit up when he saw his girlfriend and greeted her as if she'd been gone on a five-year mission not a five-minute visit to the bathroom.

Spock didn't look at me.

I'm sure he missed me, too.

We left the restaurant and found the rest of our group standing outside the door. The looks they gave Spock made it clear that he had told them to wait.

"The shuttle to San Francisco leaves at 1100 hours; I expect to see all of you," he said, looking at us all in turn – even me – "at the station at 1030 hours."

"Yes, Sir," we mumbled.

I started picturing him in all of the positions I hoped to be seeing him in before 1030 hours.

"C'mon, Nyota!"

I looked up. I was standing outside the restaurant very much alone. Niobe, Tomas and Boris were gone; Et'Bet, Jenka and Spock were standing at least four meters from me. Two of them were looking at me as if I'd lost my mind; the third was merely thinking it.

It's his fault.

I was just fine before I met him and became a Vulcan-obsessed- Dr. Flenderson acolyte.

I ended up to the left of Jenka and Et'Bet, Spock to the right. His hands were firmly behind his back, his walk even and steady.

I kept stumbling because I was too busy watching him out of the corner of my eye to watch where I was going.

"Are you really okay?" Et'Bet asked me. "We can walk you back to the hotel."

"I'm fine," I said, envying Spock's utter and complete calm.

"So, Jenka and I went out for a walk this afternoon and found this really cute café. I say we go there later and have some dessert."

I do plan on having dessert…in my hotel room.

I stumbled again.

"Or maybe we could just have an early night," Jenka prompted.

"An early night may be good," I said, trying very hard not to sound too eager.

"Does the café serve tapioca pudding?" Spock asked.

"I think so," Jenka said. "Do you like tapioca?"

"It was my mother's favorite and she served it quite often when I was a child. I would be interested in sampling this café's version. I am trying to find the preparation that most closely approximates hers."

I almost fell over again – this time from shock; he had shared personal information with students that were not me, he had almost said he liked something.

He had just delayed our possible return to my hotel room and our sweaty, sexy pursuits by at least thirty minutes.

I concentrated on my feet.

Would Dr. Flenderson be upset right now? No, she'd use this time to weave a web of seduction around the hapless Vulcan – using tapioca to draw him ever closer to her, to make sure he was as intrigued and off-balance as he'd been when she was getting him in the first place.

How exactly does one make tapioca sexy?

"Oh, Nyota! Look at that!"

Et'Bet's voice intruded on a vivid picture of me slathering myself in pudding and Spock licking it off.

It didn't look very comfortable and even Fantasy Spock didn't look like he was enjoying himself very much.

Perhaps tapioca can't be made sexy.

I attended to her and saw what had made her so excited.

Several jugglers were performing in front of a small crowd; but, instead of juggling balls or pins of knives, they were juggling spheres of light.

"That's amazing," I said, watching as they threw the spheres high in the air and caught them again. The bright incandescence left smudges of color in my vision.

I watched in rapt silence for several minutes before the desire to see Spock's reaction made me lean around our companions. He was standing quite still, only his eyes moving as they followed the jugglers' movements.

"You're trying to figure out how they do it, aren't you, Commander?" I asked.

He blinked and looked at me, his eyes their customary blank brown; his response, however, hinted at something the exact opposite of blankness. "On the contrary, Cadet, I am merely allowing myself to take pleasure in the experience; I find the colors visually pleasing, the deep brown in particular."

He wants me.

I want him.

I could just jump him right here, right now.

"I want to see the fire performers," Jenka said, diverting me from undertaking a disastrous plan of Spock Attack; he and Et'Bet started walking, Spock and I followed. I kept darting glances at him; he was facing straight ahead, navigating the crowded streets with ease.

I kept bumping into people.

After five minutes of being jostled along we found the fire masters; they were obviously very popular. They were on a small stage and the crowd was immense. The four of us stopped at the edge of the people; within seconds, we were being shoved and pushed by new arrivals.

The show really was spectacular. The fire masters had indeed learned how to command fire: they manipulated it, controlled it, bent it to their power. It danced around them in ribbons and orbs, flaring and ebbing with a flick of fingers, the turn of a wrist. I could feel the heat even though we were a good distance from the stage.

One of the performers jumped, a lick of flame dancing under her feet as she completed a somersault in the air. Another twisted within a spiral of flame around his body. A pair of the masters threw fire balls back and forth at each other, catching and juggling them with ease.

"Wow," I said.

"It is quite extraordinary," Spock said from very close to my ear.

I jumped. The last time I'd see him there were two people between us; now they were in front of us and Spock was on my left. I wasn't quite sure how it had happened.

Jenka peered over his shoulder, "Aren't you happy you came with us?"

"Yes," I said, grudgingly.

I looked at Spock out of the corner of my eyes; he was staring right back at me.

I opened my mouth to speak to him; he gave a curt shake of the head, his eyes trailing to Et'Bet and Jenka. They were close to us, anything we said, they'd hear.

His eyes stayed staring forward.

I had no interest in the stage anymore; no matter how incredible what was going on up there was it couldn't begin to compare to the thoughts of a naked, aroused Spock.

Perhaps with tapioca nearby.

The performance ended to raucous applause and my teammates led us toward the café.

It was a cute establishment, with tables outside and inside and a fair amount of customers. Jenka and Et'Bet volunteered to wait in line and took our orders – chocolate cheesecake for me, tapioca pudding for Spock – and headed inside; Spock and I found an outside table.

I sat down first; Spock settled in the chair beside mine and put his hands in his lap.

My fingers twitched on the table. I wanted to touch him badly.

"Please put your hands in your lap, Nyota," he prompted.

"What?" I met his eyes.

"Please," he said, his voice pitched lower, a bit of banked fire in his eyes.

I did as he asked and was rewarded by his hot hand seeking out the cut-out at my wrist. He began to trace designs on the small bit of skin.

The heat from the flames from the fire masters were nothing compared to what his light touch was creating in my body.

"Nyota," he said softly. "I wish to come to your room tonight."

"Of course," I whispered.

The fire flared in his eyes momentarily, then his fingers stopped their seductive movements and his hands were on the tabletop more quickly than I could track.

Et'Bet and Jenka were weaving their way towards us with desserts, two small carafes and four cups.

"Coffee and tea – both completely decaffeinated," Jenka pointed out, "I know we all need our sleep tonight."

Not me. I don't need sleep.

I ran my fingers over the area he'd just touched – I could feel the residual heat from his skin.

I just need Spock.