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Oh, Captain, My Captain! Part 5 (FF)
by Christine Faltz

Ztlaf was feeling a bit queasy. She had righted the pain she had caused, but
for how long? It had been sheer luck that Deanna and Beverly were attracted
to one another on a level that Ztlaf had been able to tap. She hovered in the
captain's quarters, thinking. The scarlet light wavered a bit; its intensity
would not make an onlooker wince. Ztlaf knew that her misdeed would be
punished; she just didn't know how or when.

* * *

"Captain,"

"Yes, Number One."

"We just received a message from a Ferengi freighter. They say they have some
merchandise they believe will interest us." Riker sounded disdainful.

"What sort of merchandise?"

"The message didn't specify. We have been asked if they may bring some
samples on board so that they can discuss a 'fair exchange.'"

"It must be something very interesting indeed for them to think we are
suddenly interested in acquiring goods from them."

"There's no telling how and where they got whatever it is they *think* we
want."

"Why don't we just make things simple, Number One; we'll invite them on board
with some of their wares when they are ready."

"They will be in transporter range in three and a half hours, sir."

"Fine. I'm going to attend to some personal errands, Will. I'll be in Ten
Forward if you need me."

"Do any of these personal errands involve your new friend?"

Picard laughed. "Will, you never stop!"

"No, sir. Not if I can help it."

* * *

Deanna lay on a thick, spongy layer of moss in the clearing where she and
Beverly had initiated their first physical encounter. Deanna felt a little
anxious, not that she had time to turn the events of that afternoon over in
her mind. She hoped fervently that Beverly felt sure about this. Deanna
wasn't in a rebound, and Worf -- Oh, no! How the hell was she going to
explain this to Worf? She remembered when he and she had discussed the ways
in which young Klingons experimented with sexual maturation. He had told her
that it was quite natural for bands of young Klingons to have the equivalent
of orgies, though Worf had said the Klingon translation did not have taboo
connotations. At such parties, it was common for girls to "play" with girls
and boys with boys. While it was acceptable in adulthood for women to
continue to have sex with women (and with maturing boys and girls past the
Age of Ascension or other rites of passage) it was looked down upon, and
rarely discussed. It was a widely held belief (as had been the case on many
worlds -- and still was so on others) that males required greater variety
and more sexual liaisons than women. Because of this, all Klingon men outside
the warrior class were expected to have encounters with men of their class.
In the warrior class, however, it was tradition (and therefore honorable) for
a warrior to find a woman with whom he took an oath for life. Although many
warrior class Klingons had liaisons with men of other classes, such behavior
was strictly forbidden between warriors. (Deanna had been mollified only by
the fact that women of the warrior class were expected to refrain from
liaisons with one another as well.)

"Why such different standards for the warrior class, Worf?" she had asked.

"A warrior must be able to count on his or her fellow warriors in difficult,
often life-threatening situations. Having such encounters with the men in
your group or on your ship would undoubtedly cause a lack of cohesion and
result in mistrust among the men."

"That's absurd," Deanna had said. "If anything, because of their training
in strategy and self-discipline, and the constant reinforcement of the
importance of collective cooperation, such liaisons are less likely to cause
trouble than in other classes."

"There have been warriors who have argued so," Worf had said. "They were
often long-time shipmates who had become lovers. They were ousted from the
warrior class. I don't understand it myself, Deanna, but they made the
others nervous."

"Why?"

"Many were afraid that there would eventually develop camps of warriors who
had relationships with shipmates and group-mates, and warriors who held to
tradition and believed it dishonorable and destructive to the efficiency and
discipline of the warrior class as a whole."

"And how do you feel?"

"I cannot understand why a man would desire the body of another man. I have
never indulged in such experiences. It is a practice that makes me very
uncomfortable, Deanna."

Deanna remembered that she had never asked Worf how he felt personally about
women having physical relationships.

* * *

Ztlaf floated lazily back and forth across Picard's quarters. She felt
something coming for her; she could not read it, however. It was being
scrambled, and she could not unravel its meaning. She felt instinctively
that whatever it was, she had reason to fear it.

* * *

"Guinan, may I have a few words with you?"

"Well, of course, Captain."

"Do you think we could talk elsewhere?"

"Certainly. -- Regor, could you supervise things for a while, especially that
table of Andorians over there? Thanks."

"Let's go to the arboretum."

Picard added nothing more as he and Guinan headed for the quiet and relative
privacy of the arboretum.

"You look so serious, Captain. I thought everything was going rather well for
you -- to well, in fact. Is there a catch? Have you learned of one?"

"No, no, Ztlaf's fine. I think."

"What do you mean, 'you think?' I've never known you to be at a loss for
some recognition of how a situation was going. Even in the realm of personal
relationships."

"It's not a problem with me, or with us, for that matter. It's Ztlaf herself.
Dr. Crusher came by this morning, and demanded to know what was going on."

"Well, I told you that was inevitable, didn't I? I told you that you should
be straight with her as soon as possible."

"Yes. Yes, you did."

Picard paused in their stroll and looked Guinan straight in the face.
"Guinan, I introduced them."

Guinan cocked her head to the side, looking for all the world as if she were
attempting to put Picard in proper focus.

"You *what*? Do you think that was wise."

"Introduced them -- in a fashion."

"Captain, let's just have it straight, okay? What happened?"

"Beverly came in and demanded to know what was going on. I tried to ease her
into it. I didn't know what else to do, so I asked Ztlaf to appear."

"You didn't?"

"You think that was a mistake? I didn't know what else to say, what else to
do. She would have to know that I was involved with someone. She'd wonder
who; in fact, she demanded to know who it was."

"You could have just told her about Ztlaf. You didn't have to invite the
other woman to the party, Jean-Luc."

"Guinan, please. It was hard enough to go through once; don't ask me to
repeat it. I know you're going to ask what she did."

"That's right, I am. What did she do?"

"She got very upset."

"I'm sure."

"Since then, Ztlaf hasn't been quite herself. You know I explained to you
that her 'home form' which is what she calls it, is a spiral of brilliant
scarlet light?"

"Yes?"

"Well, when we aren't -- when we're talking, she usually reverts to that
form, and we communicate by thought. I just think the words and she answers.
Sometimes I'll talk out loud, just because it feels more natural. It's
somewhat strange, because I have to look away from her when I talk to her
when she is in home form. The light is usually too bright."

"Maybe she dimmed down a little because she sees it makes you uncomfortable
to talk to her?"

"I considered that, Guinan. But it isn't just the decrease in intensity.
It -- she has started *flickering*, wavering. I asked her about it, and her
answer, in my mind, seemed -- I guess the best analogy would be slurred. She
sounded drugged or sick."

"And what did she say?"

"Oh, she said something about down time, that she needed to regenerate in
order to change from one form to another."

"I thought you said she appears to you in one form when you --"

"Yes. But sometimes, she surprises me." "Picard looked away.

"Well, tell her to tone down the talent show."

"I just feel that there is more to it than that. She told me it is necessary
for her to maintain the home form for half an hour every thirty hours.
Otherwise, there were no limitations, she told me. Now, she says she needs
down time."

"Did you press her?"

"Yes. But she said she had to attend to herself in a way to convoluted to
explain. She told me she had recently found it necessary to use her powers
to fix something she had messed up."

"You think that has to do with you? With you and Beverly?"

"It may have nothing to do with anything you or I could think of. It's just
that I have this feeling, Guinan. I've never relied on this kind of feeling
before. There is no rational reason why I should be concerned. Nothing has
really changed, except that Beverly knows now. In the long run, that is best
for everyone."

"But especially for you."

Picard looked at her.

"What are you saying, Guinan?"

"Maybe all this worry is misdirected. Maybe you're really worried about
Beverly. Maybe your instinctual hunch is the foreigner guilt, Captain."

* * *

"I'm back!" Beverly looked exceptional. She had dressed for a night out in
the woods, but her casual digs fir her well.

"Well, come sit down," Deanna answered brightly. "I fixed us a beautiful,
starry night."

"How romantic of you, Deanna." They laughed.

"I brought something with me," Crusher said.

She reached into an opaque sack and took out two genuine chocolate sundaes.

"Perfect! How did you guess?"

I didn't have to, Deanna. Anyone who knows you is aware of your
addiction."

"I resent that," Deanna said, taking a huge mouthful.

"What was that? I didn't hear you."

Deanna, mouth full of chocolate ice cream and hot fudge, nearly spilled the
rest of her sundae, in addition the contents of her mouth, as she laughed
and gave Crusher a teasing punch.

"Hey, you save that for your Klingon," Dr. Crusher laughed. "I'm not so
hardy."

They ate their sundaes, and discussed the operation which Crusher had just
completed.

When the sundae cups were empty, they put them down and watched as the
holo-deck breeze carried them away. The ship would take care of them.

"So, we've gorged ourselves; we talked business and gossiped. What else
should we do, Beverly?"

"I don't know. Any ideas?"

"Yes, I have a few." Then Deanna grew serious.

"Beverly?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm nervous."

"Me, too."

For a long, uncomfortable moment, they looked at each other uncertainly.
Deanna could tell, however, that below Beverly's admission of nervousness,
and amid the jangle of her feelings, there was also excitement and
anticipation.

"Let's just take it slowly and see where we wind up. All right, Beverly?"

Dr. Crusher took a deep breath.

"I'm ready," she said.

* * *

Picard had a lot to think about. As usual, Guinan's ability to get to
the heart of the matter had sent him into serious reflection of his
circumstances. He had to figure out what was really bothering him. But
that would be easier to do once he had another talk with Ztlaf.

"Ztlaf, where are you?"

Picard glanced about his quarters. He had gotten out of his uniform and had
taken shower. Now he sat in his chair and spotted her hovering at eye-level.
Her color had changed. It was dull orange, and she was flickering rapidly.

"Ztlaf, please. Please tell me what is happening to you."

Picard started as the light disappeared. He felt odd suddenly. He stood up
and looked around, then knelt and searched for the light.

"You won't find me there," Ztlaf whispered. The whisper was a one of frailty
and weariness, not desire. Picard felt a sick sensation in the pit of his
stomach.

"No!" Ztlaf's word was a scream. "Please, please, Jean-Luc. Don't do that!
If I hurt *you*, they won't have to --" The words trailed off into silence.

"They? Who are they, Ztlaf? And what will they do? What are you afraid of?"

It was obvious that his pain was something with which Ztlaf could not deal.
He suddenly realized that her -- mood -- had changed after the encounter with
Dr. Crusher.

You can't injure anyone. Yes, that's what you told me. And you would act
differently whenever you thought you were hurting me. You got very upset, in
fact."

He felt a stirring in his groin. He knew Ztlaf was trying to distract him.
He tried to ignore it.

"Ztlaf, please! Why are you -- fading? Are you ill?"

The next minute or so was a wonderful agony. Picard lay on the floor,
writhing with pleasure. He tried to focus his mind -- what was it...
something urgent... Ztlaf... Ztlaf...! The moment he thought of her name
he felt a *pushing* or some strange sensation; she was telling him
something. She was...

"I'm not going to be with you much longer, Jean-Luc. Please know I love you;
don't forget me." The rest was not words, but knowledge -- Ztlaf was giving
him her last bit of strength by putting almost all that was left of her
strength into stimulating the pleasure centers of his brain directly.

Picard knew this, then was unaware again, as his whole world blurred into
second upon second, moment upon moment of searing, horrible, indescribably
fantastic pleasure. He felt himself floating in a bubble of indefinable
delights. His hands, his feet, everything became an extension of the hot
throb between his thighs. He gulped air, and clawed at his bunk, trying to
lift himself to it. He was having flashbacks of Ztlaf's mouth tasting every
part of him, her hands molding him into what she wanted, and what he wanted,
but never explored. He tasted her in his mouth; he felt her breath seemingly
all over him. He gripped the back of his chair, not knowing how he had gotten
to his feet. He tried to sit in it, stumbled and fell. He realized, somehow,
that he was vocalizing his ecstasy and clapped his hands over his mouth,
trying to muffle whatever sounds he might be making. He rolled from one side
to the other, squeezing his fingers over his face, pressing against his
temples, willing the pleasure to stop and to continue, to lessen and to
increase. He wanted it to stop; no, no, it shouldn't ever stop. He was
confused; he was going mad. He pressed his body to the floor, stomach down,
hoping the aching, throbbing pleasure would stop between his legs. He
suddenly became aware that he was drenched with sweat -- and semen. A lot
of sweat; a lot of semen.

Then it stopped.

Picard lay, his breath sobbing from his throat. He felt drained, dehydrated,
parched. His body ached all over, consciousness was shaky. "Goodbye,
Jean-Luc," he heard somewhere in his mind. "I hurt someone, that doctor.
I have to pay." What? What? There was something... important.

"No!" Suddenly Picard dragged himself to his knees, and forced himself, with
difficulty, to stand. He searched the room frantically with his eyes.

"Ztlaf, explain this to me! Maybe I can help!"

He suddenly caught a glimpse of a tiny flicker of pinkish light in the corner
by the entrance to his quarters. He dove upon it, holding his hand out.

"Come to me," he said quietly. "If you have to die, die with me holding you."

"No; you will feel what I feel if I do that," Ztlaf's voice was a mere
whisper in his mind. "I hope you never feel such pain, Jean-Luc."

"The time has come to put an end to all the smut and especially this
sickening display of melodrama!"

Picard whirled.

"Q!!!"

* * *

Deanna unbuttoned her blouse, (which, as usual, was already displaying
cleavage) and moved closer to Beverly. As they kissed, Beverly reached
tentatively to grasp Deanna's left nipple between two fingers. She
massaged it with pressure that was not quite pain, but not soft, either.
Deanna felt a surge of pleasure -- it was Beverly's. Deanna smiled, and
forced Beverly's lips further apart, thrusting her tongue.

"Mmmm," she said. "You taste just like a chocolate sundae, Beverly."

Beverly laughed and hugged Deanna closer to her. She pulled Deanna's blouse
completely off, and bent to take her left breast in her mouth. She worked her
tongue all around the nipple, and proceeded to encircle Deanna's breast with
long, strong swipes of her tongue. Deanna caught her breath; men had done
this before, but somehow, this was... different, and as far as she was
concerned, better. Deanna slid her hand between Beverly's knees and massaged
her way teasingly up to the warmth of her crotch. Deanna traced the vulva
with her fingers, murmuring, "Wouldn't you be more comfortable if you had a
little less material between you and me?"

"Most definitely," said Beverly, slipping quickly from her casual slacks.

She hadn't been wearing any underwear.

"Beverly! You're full of surprises tonight!"

Deanna snuggled up to Beverly as the doctor worked Deanna's skirt down her
legs and puddled it around her ankles. Deanna wore a lacy, skimpy material
that had too little to it to call it an undergarment.

"Why bother, Deanna?" Beverly giggled.

"I think they're pretty. And don't say no one is going to see them, because
just has."

* * *

Worf paced restlessly outside Deanna's quarters. He didn't like to intrude
on her space, but where the heck was she? They hadn't made a date, but he was
feeling rather desirous and was a little annoyed that her schedule wasn't
cooperating. Finally, exasperated, he entered the turbo-lift and barked out,
"Computer! Location of Counselor Troi!"

"Counselor Deanna Troi is in holo-deck 4," the computer replied.

* * *

Deanna's face was nuzzled between Beverly's legs. She kissed Beverly on her
upper thighs, nipping playfully. She licked her from clitoris to perineum,
slowly, deliberately delicate, giving the slightest touch with her tongue.
Gradually, she increased the pressure and speed, while she drove her fingers
in and out of Beverly's vagina. Beverly was a quiet lover, but that was all
right with Deanna. She knew all she needed to know; she felt Beverly's
shivering excitement, her desire for Deanna to go faster and harder. Most of
all, Deanna knew that Beverly wanted to have Deanna's tongue deep inside her.
No, she wasn't a telepathic lover, but her empathic abilities in these
circumstances were heightened because of her own sensual pleasure. She was
feeling and enjoying the pleasure of the both of them. She felt a delicious,
liquid rush between her thighs, and used her other hand to touch and caress
herself while she continued to tease Beverly, feeding on her anticipation.
Deanna paused, and looked up. Beverly's head was leaning to the right,
staring at something.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I thought I heard something."

"You're still nervous?" Deanna asked. "You don't feel nervous to me."

"No, I really thought I --"

"Never mind. Focus on feeling something, instead."

With that, Deanna used both hands to open Beverly wide. She placed her thumbs
inside her, putting pressure on the g-spot. Then, she plunged inside Beverly,
sending her tongue into a swirling, whirling dance. She licked at the vaginal
walls, and stuck her tongue eep inside, as far as she could go. She left it
there for a moment, intoxicated by the taste and scent. Beverly's body was
rigid with the need to scream with pleasure, but she had never been
comfortable vocalizing her erotic pleasure. She bit her lip, trying to
maintain silence.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

The booming, startled voice of the Klingon brought each of them to a sitting
position; each attempted to cover herself.

"Worf," said Deanna. Why the hell hadn't she sensed him?

    

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