The next day, she returned from overseeing a velocity game to be called to her supervisor's office, where she was told the guest Curzon Dax had praised her skills and had expressed a wish for her to be his aide during his time on Risa.

"A great honour, Arandis," her supervisor said approvingly. Which meant it was impossible to say no unless she wanted to give up her hopes of a promotion for a long time. When she showed up at Dax's Bungalow, she found him sober, very awake, and apparently in a good mood. He beamed at her.

"Some men would have sent flowers," she said, which was partly a jest and partly a test. She was genuinely curious whether he had requested her as a thank you or a payback, and nothing brought out the truth as quickly as banter.

"I would have," he replied unperturbed, "if I hadn't been able to tell there were things you'd like far better than flowers. Besides, I'd be very disappointed in today's youth if you didn't get flowers on a regular basis. I do hope at least some of them are from off planet. A Betazoid starflower would look wonderful in your hair."

So his reputation for being a smooth talker wasn't entirely unearned. He must also be good at bluffing, as she doubted he could tell anything about her based on a few drunken minutes, let alone something about her preferences.

"And what do I like better then flowers?" Arandis asked.

"Advancement," Dax said. "Which is why I'm going to give you a crash course in diplomacy during the next few days."

Her moment of being charmed speedily disappeared again. She was too polite to express her disbelief at his presumption, but something must have been flashing in her eyes, for he continued:

"Yes, my dear, diplomacy. I've always thought diplomats and hosts at pleasure resorts have a great deal in common, you know. Now I realize I was a drunken oaf last night, and you must be dedicated and quite good at your job, given how quickly you intervened, but I could tell what you thought of me the entire time. I still can, for that matter. If you really want to make it to the top, you have to be able to hide all your tells. And while obvious dares have their uses, next time a little more subtlety could make all the difference."

A woman not raised on Risa might have slapped him, Arandis thought. On the other hand, he was one of the most famous diplomats in the Federation and had been for a truly long time. He genuinely did have the experience he was boasting of. And it would be stupid of her not to use such an opportunity.

"But what about your companion?" she asked. "Won't he get bored while you spend your vacation teaching lessons?"

He laughed. "Benjamin? No. He's very grateful he can leave me here without fearing I'd be busy moping on my own the entire time. It was rather selfish of me , asking him to join me this time to begin with. He's a young father now, and should be with his family. But I was… distressed, you might say, and I wanted someone to keep me from committing any more stupidities. So I asked."

And now I've inherited the privilege of taking care of you, Arandis thought, and guessed Benjamin had already booked the next passage home. Out loud, she said, keeping any trace of irony out of her voice: "I am, of course, honored. But surely a man such as yourself must have had genuine aides, not to mention students eager to learn from you. Usually people in your position come to Risa to get away from such duties for a while."

Something of the edge of last night returned to his voice, and his mouth curved downwards. "I have students," Dax said. "I'm famous for breaking them. And just four days ago, I did something so bloody awful to one of them that I might as well have eviscerated her with a Klingon batleth."

Her. A young woman, then. Suddenly things were starting to make sense.

"Yes," Curzon said, apparently still able to read her thoughts from her face. Which meant he was right; she really needed to work on this. "An ambitious young woman, working so hard to get what she wants. Just like you."

People did come for all kind of reasons to Risa; to relax, to recover, to escape, even to work, as not all the staff here had been born on the planet. Arandis hadn't met anyone seeking penance yet, but then, she obviously still had a lot to learn.

Curzon didn't tell her about the young woman immediately. He mostly went with her on her day to day duties, which included a lot of sitting or lying around on his part while she organized games, gave massages and scheduled transfers between quarters because some people hadn't liked the ones they were originally given. He engaged some of the other guests in conversation, but somehow managed to keep an eye on what she was doing the entire time, because his witty, sometimes barbed comments afterwards on her own interactions were always to the point. On one occasion she was deeply grateful for his presence. Two Ferengi came to her to complain about the fact that nobody had offered them jamaharon today, despite the fact they had displayed their horgons the entire time.

"And we paid for them," one of the Ferengi said meaningfully. "A contract is a contract is a contract."

"Acquiring a horgon does not guarantee jamaharon," Arandis explained patiently. "It simply means that you are seeking it, so anyone passing by who is also interested knows you won't be offended if she or he offers. Be patient, and I'm sure someone who seeks jamaharon with a Ferengi will…"

"I told you not to trust the Federation and their we-are-above-money babble," the other Ferengi interrupted her. "It just means they never deliver the goods, and you can't even sue them for it. Blessed Exchequer!"

This was when Curzon, pretending to only just arrive at the scene, intervened, ostensibly addressing her and complaining he hadn't found anyone willing to play Tongo with, and what kind of pleasure planet was this anyway when one couldn't play Tongo?

"Tongo?" both Ferengi exclaimed, and one of them added, sounding half distrustful, half hopeful: "You play Tongo, Trill?"

"Not very well, I'm afraid. I have been cleaned out by the best," Curzon said ruefully. "But it's a habit I just can't kick."

"We have a Tongo wheel with us," said the other Ferengi. What made the whole thing truly amazing was that Curzon didn't simply set the game up but actually gave every appearance of gleefully enjoying it. At first she was afraid that he'd conned the two Ferengi and would turn out to be a masterful player, beating them at their own game, which would have resulted in two Ferengi even more disgruntled than they had been at their lack of jamaharon. But despite two or three occasional wins, he kept losing otherwise, and didn't seem to mind. Either he hadn't lied about his lack of tongo skills, or he was that good. In both cases, he was willing to make sacrifices to make her life easier, and Arandis found this was indeed far better than flowers would have been. At the end of the day, she offered not just a massage but jamaharon, despite the fact he had yet to display a horgon.

"Yes to the massage, no to jamaharon," Curzon said.

"But you want me," Arandis said, not insulted but somewhat surprised because she had seen the way he looked at her.

"Absolutely," he said. "I'll probably spend some considerable time fantasizing about you after that massage, which reminds me – could you give me a sleeping pill compatible with Trill physiology? I'm really too old to stay up all night wanking like a teenager."

"Well, then…"

"Arandis," he said wryly, "you don't want me. You want to be nice because you're grateful and you've come to like me despite yourself. But looking at me, touching me, being touched by me, that's not anything that gets you hot. Yet. Which means I'll have to wait for jamaharon a bit longer, my dear, because I really want more from you than the equivalent of a handshake."

Occasionally, there were visitors who fell in love with Riseans; letting down people gently, pointing out as tactfully as possible that shared pleasure was not romance, was something anyone who wanted to work with guests learned very early. She just hadn't expected ever needing to do this for a regular visitor. As kindly as she could, she hinted that waiting for her to fall in love with him would be a waste of time. He shook his head.

"I'm not after love," he said. "Now less then ever. I was talking about want."

He was regarding her with a faint smile and, as the beach clothes he wore clearly revealed, a hard-on. The evening sun darkened his eyes from their usual cobalt to azure, and they danced with a challenge. He evidently believed he could make her truly desire him. It was the kind of confidence she usually got from very young men, except that young men did not have the patience for waiting, despite their boasts. Most women of all ages knew better.

"Curzon Dax," Arandis said slowly, "could this possibly be your idea of a subtle dare?"

"Maybe," he said.