Author's Note: In this chapter, Uhura and Spock recall another intimate moment of their dinner together.
Adult themes, but not quite requiring a "M" rating.
Your comments are always welcome.
In her dorm room, Uhura sat at her desktop computer writing lesson plans. Ever so often she dipped her hand into a nearby bowl of popcorn and placed a few kernels in her mouth. A weary Gaila entered the room with a purse slung over her shoulder. The Orion made a loud sigh as she fell across her bed face down. She then turned her head sideways in order to speak.
"I'm back."
"I can tell." Uhura quipped.
"What are you working on?"
"The same thing I've been working on since you left to go to your Robotics Club Meeting."
"Your lesson plans for that Intro to Xenosyntax Course? I'm sure you know that material better than some of the instructors in your own department."
"I don't know about that, Gaila. I mean, I feel confident about the subject, but knowing and teaching isn't the same thing. And, to make things even more difficult, the course pack has completely changed since I took the class as a first year student. I find myself barely a half-step ahead of the cadets I'm supposed to . . . Uhura stifled a yawn. " . . . teach."
Gaila sat up on the bed. "Hey, is that the same popcorn I saw you munching on when I left here?"
"Probably."
"So, you never made it to the cafeteria for dinner?"
"I didn't have time."
"You mean you didn't take the time."
"I have too much to do. I still have to take time to review for my comprehensive exams. The first one begins this Friday."
"But you've been studying for those for the last six months. Who needs that much time?"
Uhura turned from her computer screen to directly address her roommate . "Gaila, you know I'm in the doctoral program and the rigor is quite demanding. Many people don't even pass all of the exam subjects the first time. And some give up after several tries and complete a Master's degree, instead. I want to pass mine the first time and then begin work on my dissertation . . . " Again, she stifled a yawn. " . . . my dissertation proposal."
"It looks to me that what you really need right now is a good night's sleep."
"I've got to at least finish up my lesson plans for this week and review my notes for the first exam."
"Well, maybe after you pass your exams, you'll have a little time to join our robotics team for the New Generation Robotics Competition."
"Despite the fact I served in Mr. Spock's office last semester, you know science and technology fields are not my forte."
Gaila sat up on the bed. "But the Robotics Competition requires people from all kinds of disciplines – computer science, electrical engineering, pneumatics . . . "
"Science and techno nerds."
"AND psychologists, strategists, economists and even linguists."
"Don't you already have a team together? I recall you, Sven, and Ngoto inviting members to join you after last year's competition."
"You mean last year's disaster. After the qualifying rounds, we didn't even place. I swore I wasn't going to let that happen, again. The team we recruited this year is strong, but that's not good enough. It's got to be the best."
Gaila felt encouraged by the prolong discussion of the competition. She rose up from the bed and moved to Uhura.
"Sounds like you're at least interested." Gaila prodded her. "Why don't you come to the next club meeting with me so you can hear more about the project?"
"I don't know. I remember you spending quite a bit of time on it last year."
"The mandated building period is only two weeks and that will only involve the hardcore robotics geeks. We won't need you until it's time for the strategy sessions starting in about three weeks. At most you will be committing to three or four of these meetings."
Uhura paused to reflect on it, before she asked her roommate, "When's the next club meeting?"
"Not until next Thursday, two days after you successfully pass your last exam."
"I really wish you could tell the future, but whether I pass all of my exams or not – I'll go with you to your Robotics Club meeting next week."
Gaila lifted Uhura up from her chair and hugged the East African. "Thanks, Uhura. You're going to be a great addition to the team. I guess Kirk was right."
Uhura found her seat, again. "James Kirk? What does he have to do with this?"
"He's one of our other new recruits. He encouraged me to ask you even though I told him you had not turned me down for the last couple of years. He thought this time might be different."
It did not take Uhura long to remember a conversation she had recently with Kirk in which she spoke of her Orion friend. With graduation only a year and a half away, Uhura confessed she would have take advantage of the few opportunities the two roommates had to work on a project together.
"I suppose he was right." Uhura told her with her eyelids drooping.
"Hey, roommate." Gaila touched her shoulder and gave it a gentle nudge. "I was going to take a quick shower and go to bed, but you look like you need to go first."
"Gaila, I've lived with you long enough to know there is nothing quick about your showers. However, I'm fine." Uhura turned her bleery eyes back to her computer screen. "You go ahead and take as long as you want."
Gaila looked at Uhura skeptically, but then decided it would be needless to make another attempt to change the mind of the stubborn East African.
As Uhura heard the bathroom door shut behind the Orion, she soon found herself unable to focus on her work due to exhaustion. She reasoned, I should lie down for a minute or two and then I can better concentrate on my work.
The moment she laid down the cool pillowcase felt good against her tired face. Although she knew the time was barely past 10:30 PM, Uhura had been pushing herself even harder than usual over the past two days. She appreciated the chance to teach a course in her discipline of xenolinguistics and did not want to compromise the opportunity by being ill-prepared for the students. At the same time, she could not neglect her review for her comprehensive exams.
Few would understand her drive, but Spock. When warranted, he would devote countless hours to the research projects of his unit, whether initiated by himself or his Research Assistants. In addtion, he took to his teaching responsibilities with equal fervor. To keep his lectures and assignments fresh, he would delete his course notes and reconstruct them again each semester, making sure he added any new developments in the field of study.
Uhura envied the fact that Vulcans needed less time for sleep than humans. And, although the East African characterized herself as a disciplined person, she had yet to match Spock's strict adherence to a regimen guaranteeing his bodily needs were met by proper diet and exercise. Her evening's "dinner" consisting of a bowl of popcorn certainly would have garnered his disdain.
Spock . . .
When at her computer or listening to language disks, the East African found it easy to focus solely on her work. However, while laying her bed, thoughts of the Vulcan found no resistance to finding refuge in her mind.
Two days . . . two days since she last saw him in Diarmuid's apartment.
Spock . . .
For those few precious hours, they were able to play house like a real couple. How she enjoyed cooking and setting a meal before him. And, although he purposely got under her skin by not telling her right away how he liked her stew, it gave her great satisfaction when he went to the pot not once, but twice to retrieve more of her homemade fare.
"Nyota, you are corrupting me." He remarked after finishing his third bowl. "I am usually not guilty of gluttony, but your culinary skills have affected my usual resolve."
The East African began to open her mouth to thank him, but then the Vulcan added, "However, next time try not to use such a heavy hand with your spices. In addition, while I realize your cultural tastes may prefer a soft, mushier texture with your vegetables, I would rather you not allow them to cook so long in order to retain a . . . "
The Vulcan stopped speaking when he saw a broad smile come across Uhura's face.
Spock asked, "Is there something about my critique which you find humorous?"
"Your so-called critique had more to do with an expression of your personal food preferences, than the meal you ate heartily before my eyes."
"Did you not request my opinion of your culinary talents?"
Uhura rose up from her chair and picked up his dish to hold before him. "Your multiple servings and now empty bowl is testament enough to my stew's rich flavor and robust taste." She began to clear the table and place the dirty dishes and utensils in the cleanser machine.
Realizing the Vulcan's eyes were on her made her smile even broader. He then began to assist her in clearing the table.
"Why so silent, Spock?" She teased. "Could it be possible that you have no answer to my retort?"
"Thoughtful speech requires reflection. It would do well by you to adopt this lesson."
Uhura feigned hurt. "Oh, my . . . such a low blow." She placed the last of the dishes in the cleanser machine and turned it on. "I must have really touched a nerve."
The East African turned to him, but her smile wilted under his intense gaze. Suddenly, she realized this gaze was not fueled by an inability to meet her verbal challenge. Instead, this look was born out of a naked desire for her – his Nyota.
Finding herself tongue-tied, Uhura mumbled something incoherent which caused an unmistakable expression of self-satisfaction across his face.
Damn it. She said to herself. He knows sex is his trump card and he plays it at will. Uhura reasoned it was time to hold up the white flag . . . for now. Luckily, a glance at a chronometer gave her a convenient excuse.
"I better get changed into my uniform, so I won't be late for the assembly." She told him. "Spock, you don't mind putting away the dishes, do you? I promised Diarmuid I'd have everything back in order."
"I will do whatever you ask of me." He replied.
Uhura walked into Diarmuid's bedroom and placed her hand on the door to close it. However, the Vulcan moved to stand beneath the door frame.
He told her, "Nyota, there is no need to hide yourself from me."
Uhura met his eyes. She was not afraid for she trusted him. However, she would not reveal all to him . . . not yet. While his greater sexual experience was a given, the East African realized she still had control over her own sexuality.
"I will choose." Uhura told him in an unwavering voice. She stood with her hand on the door long enough that he became unsure of what she would decide. Then, she removed her hand from the door and walked over to the bed where her uniform awaited her.
Spock . . .
Lying on her bed in her dorm room, she remembered . . .
Two days . . . two days, since she last saw him in Diarmuid's apartment.
At 10:53 PM, Uhura told herself she would just lie there for a few more minutes, and then try to call Spock using some little used frequency to avoid detection. However, contrary to her intention, she drifted off into a deep sleep under the spell of his love for her. With Gaila still enjoying her shower, neither woman heard Uhura's communicator sound one minute later.
In his apartment, Spock checked the number he used to call Uhura in the unlikely event he had entered it incorrectly. Upon confirming the accuracy of his previous entry, he wondered, Why had Nyota not picked up his call? Although he had utilized a disposable communicator and frequency that could not be easily traced, he previously had successfully employed such a strategy. With her first comprehensive exam just two days away, he reasoned she should be in her room engaged in a review of her discipline materials. While he assumed she might have fallen asleep, the thought did not comfort him.
47 hours . . . 47 hours, 33 minutes, and 26 seconds since he last saw her at Diarmuid's apartment.
Spock recalled standing under the door frame of Diarmuid's bedroom watching her as she chose not to place a physical barrier between the two of them while she changed into her uniform.
Uhura did not "strip" or perform a "peep show," but was well aware of the import of this moment for both she and Spock.
The East African removed the gele from her head, letting her braids fall to her shoulders. For the Vulcan, the intricate folds of her headdress appeared symbolic of the complexity that was Uhura. She then removed her sandals and turned her back to him.
Her delicate fingers untied the kanga from around her waist. As she removed the fabric, she revealed her shapely legs that for Spock were a fortunate byproduct of a mandatory cadet physical exercise regimen. The Vulcan noted her regulation white panties still covered her ass, but her conservative lingerie did not diminish the appeal of what it concealed.
When Uhura unwrapped the kanga draped around her torso, her bare back came into full view. Her supple looking skin with its rich brown tones seemed to beckon his touch, but he did not dare to reach for her . . . not yet.
The East African slightly turned her body to retrieve her bra, allowing a brief glimpse of her small, but well proportioned breasts. The Vulcan could feel his mouth water in expectation, but he could not risk the possibility of her denial of his advances . . . not now.
Spock watched as Uhura slipped on her uniform, socks and shoes. She placed her belongings in it as he told her, "You may just leave your bag there. I'll arrange for its delivery to your dorm so you won't have to take it with you to the assembly."
Uhura closed the bag up, turned to the Vulcan and asked him wryly, "So, did you enjoy yourself?"
Without hesitation, he commented, "Without question, it was one of the highlights of my day."
"One of the highlights? The sight of me - almost au natural," she teased, "undoubtedly must have been the highpoint of your day."
"I cannot deny viewing your well-toned physique and luminous skin proved quite . . . stimulating." While not poetry, his comments caused her to blush, but not for long when he added, "However, if judging by physical appearance alone, I must say I usually prefer a more full-figured woman."
"Is that right, Mr. Spock?" She said as her body stiffened and a scowl appeared over her face. When Spock saw Uhura add her hands to her hips, the Vulcan knew his words had hardly pleased her.
"I was only disclosing my preferences concerning the female form, Ms. Uhura. There is no need to become upset."
"Don't you dare tell me how I should feel, Mr. Spock." Her head and braids shifted from side to side as she spoke. "I believe that's still my prerogative. And now, I will exercise another right . . . the right to leave."
Uhura started to move past Spock, but then his words stopped her.
"Your hairstyle is not regulation." He commented drily.
She turned back to him with a glare. "What?"
"According to Regulation 28.6 regarding Female Starfleet Personnel, long hair is defined as hair that extends beyond the collar's lower edge. Long hair will be neatly and inconspicuously fastened or pinned, except that bangs may be worn. No portion of the bulk of the hair, as measured from the scalp, will exceed approximately 2 inches and be no wider than the width of the head. The only exception to this rule is the wearing of a bun, which may extend a maximum of 3 inches from the scalp."
Pulling rank on Uhura only fanned her ire; however, he needed more time with her by any means necessary. To his recitation, he added the command, "Before you head out the door for the mandated assembly, you will address this breach of policy, Cadet Uhura."
Uhura hesitated, but then realized there was no point in defying him. Tossing her bag back down on the bed, she searched for and found the black elastic hair band she had packed. She quickly pulled her hair up into a ponytail and reached behind her to make sure the length did not touch her collar.
Standing at mock attention before him, she barked, "Do I pass inspection, Sir?"
"Not quite."
Uhura continued to stare straight ahead, but found it necessary to bite her lip to impede the caustic comment about to spring from her mouth. As the Vulcan approached her, she waited for another reprimand.
"Cadet Uhura, your disposition is sorely in need of adjustment."
"I am sure my disposition will improve remarkably, sir, as soon as you grant my release."
"Your release is forthcoming in a timely manner, but not before I first impart these words."
"Sir, I would rather I not be late."
"Then you should silence yourself so I may have time to fully express my thoughts." When convinced she had finally stilled her lips, Spock continued. "Curiously, what one prefers has little to do with what one needs . . . And, Nyota, I find that I need you. What one reasons to be logical has little to do with what one ultimately desires, especially when it concerns matters of the heart . . . And, Nyota, my heart chooses you."
Spock watched as she crossed her arms and turned away from him. Although unable to gage his effect, he pressed on with his message. Standing close behind her, he softened his voice with his lips beside her ear.
"I could not let you leave me in anger, not without knowing what has been concealed this façade of seeming indifference. If it is your desire to know what I believe is most memorable about our time together this day, I will tell you. I will remember all the ways you demonstrated how deeply you care for me."
"Yes . . . " The Vulcan sighed as he welcomed her gentle kisses on his lips, while her fingers lovingly caressed his face and neck. His large hands found its place around her waist, while her hands found their place on Spock's arms. Upon concluding her ministrations, Uhura basked in the favor he held for her within his eyes.
"Mr. Spock," she spoke in a low, sultry voice, "You are one dangerous Vulcan." She moved back from him. "Got to go. Are you ready to release me?"
"Never."
47 hours . . . 47 hours, 33 minutes, and 26 seconds since he last saw her at Diarmuid's apartment.
Nyota had played the part of the innocent, as well as, the seductress . . .
Holding her body against his . . .
Cooler than his . . . but soothing . . . calming . . .
He took in a breath and closed his eyes . . .
See her . . .
Feel her . . .
Be with her . . .
How he hungered for his Nytoa . . .
47 hours . . . 47 hours, 33 minutes, and 26 seconds since he last saw her at Diarmuid's. . .
Why had she not picked up her communicator when he called?
The door chime sounded. Spock moved to the door, and then mentally calmed himself. After all, he reasoned, I should not give the appearance of being anxious.
Spock opened the door and found T'Lau on the other side.
Dressed in a beige trench coat, tan slacks with matching flats, she wore her medium-length sandy hair in a neat ponytail.
Several moments passed before she asked, "Will you not step aside so I may enter?"
"Your presence at this hour is unexpected."
"That may be true; however, does that condition necessitate my continued subjection to the cold San Francisco night air?"
Spock stepped aside to allow her to entrance. He watched as she removed her coat, revealing a long-sleeved ochre-colored tunic. She laid her coat across a chair and moved to his kitchen area where she found his teas.
T'Lau commented. "I envy your selection. I have not been as fortunate to find a source for such varieties, while here on Terra." She turned back to him. "Spock, which tea may I prepare for you this evening?"
Author's Note: Your comments are always welcome.