The BLTS Archive- Winning Hand
by AdmiralTAG (althea@yahoo.com)
and 
Astra (astraplain@yahoo.com)

---

Another Astra/AdmiralTAG collaboration, but this one (surprise,
surprise) is not a resident in our House of Angst. Humor, parody, just
plain ol' silliness--you tel us! 

As always, feedback is craved. We're begging. (No, we're not on our
knees, but hey, ya never know...).

Standard disclaimer: Paramount owns the whole deck and we won't play
with it. Wanna bet? ;-)

---

Commander William Riker paced the width of the turbolift and thought
fast. The Captain had called him to the bridge just a few moments ago,
and it couldn't mean anything good.

First, he was off duty, and the Captain never disturbed his officers
when they were off duty unless it was an extreme emergency. Second,
there was no emergency. There were no flashing lights, no warning
alarm. Nothing. Not even a drill. Third, Picard had sounded more than
a little, well, miffed. Jean-Luc Picard didn't often do miffed.
Fourth, Riker'd cleaned his fellow officers out at the poker game last
night, and they'd taken to betting for more interesting winnings.
Deanna had warned him about that...

The lift slowed, and Riker stopped pacing, turning smartly to face the
door. Ever the consumate Starfleet Officer, he strode smartly out of
the lift, down the ramp and up to the Ready Room door. His hand was
raised to signal his arrival when the door slid open and he nearly
collided with Beverly Crusher.

In the confusion of apologies, it took him several long seconds to
notice.

"Beverly. What did you do...?"

"Commander Riker." Picard's unspoken command demanded immediate
response. Riker tore his eyes away from Beverly and entered the ready
room. There was no doubt -- Picard was not pleased and Riker was the
cause.

"Sir."

"Number One, we have a situation on this ship." Picard refused to sit,
chosing instead to circle his desk and move beside Riker.

"Sir?"

"It seems that there is an unhealthy trend among some of my officers -
my senior officers."

Riker kept looking straight ahead. Really if he'd known, he'd never
have made that bet. But he didn't even suspect until Deanna told him
while they were cleaning up after the game. By then it was too late.
And he'd never expected her to do that. After all, he'd been
deliberately vague as to the terms of the bet.

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

"What my officers do off duty is their own affair, Mr Riker, unless it
adversely affects the operation of this vessel. I would suggest you
remember that in your future recreational pursuits. Dismissed."

Riker stood there half a second, considering. Then he conceeded to the
Captain's authority and left. There were some things you just didn't
argue about. As far as Jean-Luc Picard was concerned, this was one of
them.

---

"Tell me again."

Beverly claimed her ice cream from the replicator and returned to her
spot on the couch. She leaned back against the pillows and stretched
her legs, plopping her feet into his lap.

He whoofed, frowning at her. "Watch where you put those feet, my dear
doctor, or I may be in need of medical attention."

She licked her spoon sensuously and made him rethink his complaints
about the placement of her feet.

"Now, talk."

"There are rules against torture, doctor." She growled through a
mouthful of ice cream. He laughed. "Okay, okay. He was positively
terrified. We've got Will completely convinced that I'm angry at him.
After a very convinging acting job by yours truly, I might add."

She harumphed.

"And thanks to the talents of my coach." He quickly ammended. "I don't
think he'll be quite so cocky at the next poker game."

Beverly set the ice cream down and slithered over to him until she was
curled up in his lap. "Wonderful. It was worth it then."

Jean-Luc fingered her hair. "Well... short and blonde is not how I
prefer it doctor, but your hair was sacrificed for a worthy cause."

"I guess, but I really hated throwing away that full house to his
lousy pair of threes."

"Ah, but consider the triumph of out-bluffing our dear Commander. He
was so completely convinced he'd won, he never even asked to see your
cards."

"True." She breathed the word into his ear, then nibbled his earlobe.

"I thought you already had a snack, Beverly."

"I did. Now I want dessert."

"Oh." He nipped her neck. "There are advantages to having your hair
this length."

"Mmmm? You'll have to show me."

"Is that an order?"

Beverly gave him her best wicked grin. "Make it so."

---

The End