Posted 30 Sept 1999



Author: Laura JV

Title: Gallivanting

Archive: ASC/EM

Rating: PG-13

Parts: 1/1

Codes: K

Summary:  Kirk finds himself in an interesting situation while on shore

      leave.

Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns Star Trek.  I own this story, which I

      wrote as a X-tra special present for Jungle Kitty.  She said to

      post it. Everyone should thank JK for being such a nice girl and

      sharing her story with you.  :)

 

 

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"Gallivanting"

by Laura JV

 

I sighed and scratched my head.  How *did* I get myself into these

      situations?  Here I was, on yet another routine shoreleave that

      was, somehow, anything but.  Bones would probably laugh himself

      sick when I told him *this* story.  Spock...well, Spock would

      raise his eyebrow and suggest that *next* time, I play chess with

      him instead of

"gallivanting."

 

Well, I can play chess with Spock any time I want.  Gallivanting is a

      rare treat.

 

Even if gallivanting gets me into situations like...well, like *this*. 

 

I had been in a bar, a nice quiet bar, looking for a nice girl to spend

      a few hours with.  Just my luck to pick the one who knew me by

reputation...and not my 'Fleet service record, either.  She'd looked at

      me, her eyes wide, her cheeks blushing, and said "*You're* Jim

      Kirk? Oh, have I got something for you..."

 

And the next thing I knew, I was here.

 

I look around the room, taking stock of my...um...supplies.  Six green

      alien babes, check.  Tinfoil bikinis, check.  Massage oil, check.

Nice soft rope, check.  Strategically placed rings and pulleys,

      check. Holoimager, check.  Lighting, check.

 

You know, just because I'm very, very good at something doesn't mean I

      want to do it every shore leave.  But here I was, and that nice

      girl was still blushing and looking so eager...

 

I sighed.  "OK, everyone, we're going to start with an easy pose, to get 

you used to how I work.  The athletic stuff will come later, but for

      now, I'm just looking for some artistry..."  I moved around the

      room, carefully arranging limbs, adjusting poses, and then I

      started shooting. 

 

I never should have taken that holoimaging course.  And I *definitely*

      never should have started selling my erotic images.  And I sure as 

hell shouldn't have won the Deltan Invitational Holoimage Competition. 

 

It was impossible to get *laid* anymore, dammit.

 

As I took the images--suspending one girl from ropes, her back

arched--another curled on the floor--another, her arms flung back--I

      wondered vaguely if maybe chess wasn't a better idea after all.

 

I took a break and looked over at the girl who'd brought me here.  She

      was tall, and slim, and apparently Rigellian--she had that elegant 

Vulcanoid look to her.  She looked like she played a mean game of

      chess.  I wandered over to her and asked "So, enjoying yourself?" 

 

"I'm enjoying watching you," she said, and I caught a whiff of her

      scent: lipstick, makeup, perfume...plomeek soup.

 

Plomeek soup?

 

Rigellians didn't eat plomeek soup.

 

Come to think of it, Rigellians weren't that tall, either.  She was

      taller than any *male* Rigellian I'd ever met, and I've met a

      lot. 

 

I barely heard myself say it.  "You son of a bitch..." 

 

She--he--*SPOCK*, dammit!--quirked one elegant, silver-painted brow and

      disappeared in transporter sparkle.

 

Chess my ass.  Next time, I was taking Spock gallivanting.

 

---

 

The End