The BLTS Archive - Ardent
by R. Schultz (cousindream@aol.com)

---

Disclaimer: Trek-universe belongs to Paramount/ViaBorgCom, all glory
to the great gods.  I'm not using the Trek for money.  This fic mine
under Berne Convention law.  March, 2002.  7200 words.

Warning: As this contains graphic descriptions of lesbian sex, no one
underage according to USA or local law may enter.  Neither may those
whose country or locale legally declares smut illegal.   Posted to the
Femme_Fuhq_Fest, and later to the ASCEM.  May be archived, but please
notify.

---

It was a bright clear day, a tad cool, with a stiff breeze working in
from the Pacific.  A perfect day to dawdle.

It was only early afternoon, but I was playing hookey from Starfleet.
They can shuffle their data without me for a few hours.  And yet, I
was not in any hurry to see Phoebe, or begin setting up for my guests
from VOYAGER.  I can afford a few minutes delay.  So I took the Market
Flic all the way past the Twin Peaks station.

I walked until I got warm.  Then I sat on a Flic bench until I cooled
off.  I waved the public transportation robot off, just enjoying the
day and the passing parade.

Phoebe always chided me for making up stories in my head about
humanoids passing by.  Been doing it since Indiana, never going to
stop now.  I enjoy my fantasies, it lets me escape from being a very
focused Fleet officer.  For just a few minutes.

In time this Fleet officer got to her feet again.  It was easier now,
all slightly downhill, and Phoebe's home was already in sight.  She
was in the lawn glider, her worn yellow Bajoran sun hat on.  Jake ran
to greet me first.  My favorite Irish Setter, but I noticed he was
just beginning to get old.  I should take him in next week for his
AntiAging-Arthartic shots.  What other use have I for all those salary
Credits out in the War Zone?

Save it for my old age?  Not the way this war was going.  And Phoebe
has plenty of her own money.  She must have eighty thousand tied up in
pieces of marble, copper and bronze in her back yard alone.

You gotta have it to hand when inspiration strikes.  How many times
has she drug me straight out of bed to be a nude model for some new
project of hers?  My naked body is immortalized across an entire
quadrant, only no one knows it.

Back then she knew how to reward me, too.

Phoebe waved, her quietude inviting me to sit beside her when I
finally arrived.  Jake settled between my feet, happy in his devotion
and in the warm sun.  Yes, time for some shots.  Me too.

We kissed lightly, we had been so close for so long, yet even so I had
grown so away from her.  Phoebe's hand was soon doing what I always
hated her doing, and secretly so desperately missed, out there amongst
the cold and hating stars.  She ran her long callused fingers through
my unbound hair.  I let loose the ribbon in her hair, and ran my
fingers through her hair.  Tit for tat. She purred, almost unheard.
We kissed again, warmer this time, her regret and her longing warm in
her mouth.  I broke the kiss. Some things can never be made new and
fresh again.

"I cooked us some pan chicken and cranberry bread," she said.  "I
replicated a pot of Peach Latte, or we can stasis it and have some
Double XX beer.  Fresh, the real stuff, from the Happy Hanoi shop."

The Latte would be fine.  She was smiling, that sneaky smile of hers,
she was full of something she wanted to surprise me with. She massaged
my shoulders when I took my tunic off.  That was the clincher.

"What?" I asked.

Sneak!  She wouldn't tell me, but she wanted me inside the house. I
stepped through the door warily, looking around, hoping it wasn't one
of her rare un-practical jokes.  We got as far as the
kitchen-cum-dining-area.  The roof had been rolled back and the room
was too warm and gorgeous to be in.

Something covered with a large red velvet throw was sitting in the
middle of the floor.

I definitely felt orgasmic.  It was a surprise, and the throw told me
it was a real present and not a joke.  Jake got wind of our emotions,
and was immediately running about barking.  I told him to sit, and he
quieted.

Phoebe whipped off the throw with a dramatic flourish, revealing a
small statuette sitting on a low pediment.  It was one of the most
exquisite things I've ever seen her produce.

A little over a quarter meter high, it was made of pale cream pink
marble, with almost no striations in it.  Not a made material, but a
marvelous piece of real worked natural stone. I'd learned the
difference back when we were .... closer.

It was our mother and the Admiral, side by side, holding each other,
being obviously bonded.  Daddy was in Mess dress with the two divided
tails to his short tunic, MaMa in an apron and loose dress.  They were
both looking to their left, his hair buzz short, hers bound up in a
bun.

They were perfect.  Phoebe gave me a tissue for my tears.  She must
have spent the longest time welded to the micro kit, and she always
headached when she did.

"I started them months ago," Phoebe began.  "If you ...."

She didn't finish that sentence, but continued with; "... don't mind,
we'll consider it a late Birthday present, okay?"

She'd meant to say; "If you came back alive, this time, again, it was
for you."

We held each other for the longest time.  Had I once been enraged at
this woman, jealous, vengeful, spiteful?  That was a different reality
so long ago, back when we were children.  She bent to hold me.

I kept peeking at my gift around Phoebe's arm, debating with myself
where I'd place my little treasure in my cabin.  That one would be by
itself on a table in front of the couch, I thought.

Something terrific, a bragging piece from my world-class, no,
quadrant-class artist sister.

---

Chakotay was the first guest to arrive.  Which was typical of him.
Being fashionably late was as alien an idea to him as being
intentionally cruel.  He just didn't mind the passage of time. For an
important appointment he would be dead on time and punctual.  A party
was another matter entirely.  You walk the path and eventually you
arrive.

This party was being held under the stars, outside.  Friendly stars,
not the cold hard ones we saw in space.  Festive lights were strung
from the trees to Phoebe's two studios, bringing just enough light so
that everyone's stress and raving fear wrinkles were muted for this
night.  This party was partially a denial that we were going out
again, and soon.

Phoebe knew of my own nightmares, but she was letting me decide how
much to tell her of what it was like out there.  It was a bad war, I'd
whispered to her one night, across a pillow's length, and its getting
worse.  We were bleeding them, we were really bleeding them bad, but
it was no longer up to the Cardassian Central Cadre to say when enough
was enough.

Tonight Chakotay escorted my self-exiled mother through the door, his
arms full of her potato salad and his own stasis pot of beanless Texas
chili.  I think he of all of us handled the strain best.

Que sera, sera.

Almost on his heels was Carey and several of the Engineering Mafia.
From the moment Carey saw my mother, he tried to kiss her, at which he
succeeded.  Then he tried to convince her how enchanting a few weeks
with him on an Seychelles beach resort would be.  I think he
half-hoped she'd accept.

My MaMa had her first rejuv before I left on VOYAGER.  I made sure she
had it done.  I practically stood over her the whole time.

Obviously it was going to be one of those marvelously successful
rejuv's.  Unlike some few whose first bloom of false youth so quickly
deteriorated.  I was happy for her, noticing she looked more like
another sister than anything else.

Excepting the gray hair she insisted on leaving in place.  I had to
admit on her it looked striking.  She looked good, and those blue
jeans were a tight fit.  She was letting her breasts move freely in
that pale green blouse, one ply it looked to me.  MaMa felt thirty or
forty years younger than she was, and looked it.

I noticed her pushing back against that hand my second Engineer had on
her butt, the one no one was supposed to know he had there.  Could
Liam Carey really be rolling on my mother?  Was she enjoying getting a
little male attention?

Was my mother letting him feel her nipples brush his arm?  My mother?

Mother loved his Irish blarney, I know she did.  Right across the room
I felt the barely veiled sexuality of his youthful invitations, and
how they did wonders for her ego.  its been so long since my father's
death.  I listened to the pair and I felt it would be good for her if
he dragged her off to a sandy beach and gave her a few memorable and
passionate nights.  You usually don't think of your MaMa as someone
who'd like to get thrown in bed.  Two years at the front made you
think a little differently.

MaMa still looks good, I wondered how she'd look in a nice skimpy
bikini?  Or with Liam Carey sweat-sliding over her?

I'd worn a thong at Black's Beach last week, answering Phoebe's dare.
It was hysterical.  More well-tanned beach denizen's tried to pick up
little old tight-assed me than they did thin Phoebe.

Maybe I should ask Mr. Carey how much he truthfully cares for older
women, and encourage him if he does?  MaMa could stand to be rolled
across the prairie a few times.  Phoebe would be....

I think she would be as tickled and excited by the idea as I am. Once
she got over being outraged.  MaMa was enjoying Liam Casey's hand on
her butt.

Strike while the irons are hot.

I pulled my Beta Engineer to a distance apart.

"Mr. Carey," I said, "we've known each other for some years now, have
we not?  We've been together through thick and thin, and I trust we
might speak frankly to each other, na?  Without our ranks aboard our
ship getting too much in the way right now, na?" He nodded, wondering
what I was leading up to.

"Could the two of us talk as reasonable adults?  Not as Captain and
Lieutenant, but as people rather than Starfleet officers? And more
importantly, could anything said between us tonight remain
confidential, a secret between the two of us?   I mean a REAL secret
and not as the subject of B'Elanna Torres future gossiping?"

Up close and in a mostly open civilian shirt, Carey was showing a lot
of very Irish hairy chest and hairy arms.  Looking at him now in a
whole new way, it struck me that he could be a lot of fun for some
lucky female humanoid.

I refrained from fondling his muscles while he flexed.  I didn't check
out anything else, either.  Whatever he had, I'm sure he had some
grasp of what to do with it by this stage of life.

---

"Kate," Phoebe asked, "do you know where MaMa's gone off and went to?
I just seen her go out the door with one of your guests, and she waved
to me.  Where'd she go?"

"She's gone off to buy a thong bikini of her own," I replied.

Not very loudly, doing my mumbling trick, hoping Phoebe wouldn't hear
it all and understand.  She didn't.

"Oh," she said, "well, she should always take things back if she got
the wrong kind.  Where'd she go?"

"The Seychelles islands."

"Oh, that's that new place over by Gault, isn't it?  At least it isn't
too far.  When will she be back?"

"The twelfth of never."

"Good, I don't want her to miss all of the party."

I learned how to artistically mumble like that when trying to stall in
Academy classes until my befuddled mind could dredge up a convincing
answer.  One should never forget a laboriously learned skill.

Phoebe was now looking at my new skirt, belt, shoes and blouse. She
was suddenly recognizing them.  Dear Phoebe had the tip of her tongue
showing, proving to me that she was unhappy.

Around us the gathering was in full swing, though a few crew were
late.  Thinking of one guest in particular, within the past fifteen
minutes I had changed to a light brown tri-skirt, and a clinging
dark-brown and gold paisley blouse.  Lovely thing, it let my breasts
flow freely under that exciting silky surface.

Since then I'd been enjoying immensely letting my nipples spike for
all the quadrant to see.  Phoebe had just now noticed.  If she didn't
want me to wear any of her clothes, she shouldn't have so many in
extra-large-for-her sizes.

"And just when the HELL did you go in for the no-bra look???" she
asked.  Being pissed I was wearing her clothes, but being unwilling to
admit that was what bothered her.

"I seem to recall a certain redhead in Saints Sigmund and Albert
parochial school who had to wear a six-ply bra so no one would realize
she had nipples."  I leered back at her.  I'd changed some over the
years.

I'd changed clothes just in time.  Here came through the door three of
the few crew I'd been waiting for, and the reason for the change.

Ro Laren and Jadzia were joined at the hip, as usual.  I automatically
looked for Harry Kim, and he was trying not to stare at Jadzia, and
failing miserably.

I had to admit the joined Trill was one striking and edible female.
How many times had I thought that, watching her work Ops?  Though I
only had eyes for the Astrometrics officer (who followed these two
late arriving guests).

A dark long patterned dress with an incredibly wide belt adorned
Annika, gleaming brown knee-high boots dressing her feet.  For a
civilian party her usual bun was gone, replaced by a scrumptious loose
fall of impeccable blond delight.  I wanted to swim in that hair.

Lots of breast showed between the laces of her bodice.  All simple
elegance, stately good taste, the penultimate femme. Several necklaces
gleamed on her neck and down her chest, and bangle earrings moved with
every breath.  It was hard to believe from looking at her how
crocodile, how butch she was.  She made a direct bee-line to me as
soon as she spotted me in the crowd.

I was glad I'd changed.  Annika stood in front of me, admiring the
view, a slow smile stealing over that crisp cool Norwegian blondness.
I flounced and moved and turned completely around, bringing a little
teeth to her smile.  I was enjoying the feeling of my breasts moving
under the cloth.  To show I was happy to see her, I was spiking hard
enough for it to hurt.

My Viking wore a bra, but it was damned thin, and I could see her
nipples clearly.  I enjoyed the way each breath make her breasts
quiver.  I stared at them, so she shook herself so they'd quiver and
jounce for me.  She was also spiking.

We ducked back into the house for a second, so we could kiss.  If
that's what you wanted to call it.  I'd have used the word devour.  To
top it off, Annika laid me against the wall and groped me.  It was
lady-like, I think.  But she had her divine long hand under my skirt,
and was discovering I didn't nave any panties on, all in a few
nano-seconds.

"Is this for me?" she asked, fondling her carefully trimmed prize, my
now-sparking groin, me.  We went back to devouring and she began
rubbing her thumb knuckle up and down my slot.

"Did you enjoy Stavenger?" I politely asked, feeling a finger prying
at my opening.

"Immensely, it was quite exciting in Norway," Annika replied.  "I had
two new women each night, and another in the afternoon. Mornings I
kept free for sleeping, so I could recuperate from my meaningless
non-stop orgies.

"I seem to be going for brunettes a lot lately.  They had hairier
pussies."

"Bitch, " I breathed in her ear.  "Trifle with a young girl's delicate
affections, will you?  I spent hours trimming my beautiful furry pussy
because you said you wanted it that way, and now I get thrown over
like last year's vibrator."  Annika paused to run her elegant fingers
through my now-short hairs.

"Nice texture," she admitted.  "Very well.  You may keep it this
length."

"And how did you spend the last three weeks?" she asked in return.
She had two fingers in me by then, and the combination of sucking
noises and my climbing the slope REALLY fast, did much to distract me.

"I purchased an incredibly small thong bikini...."

Annika stuck her tongue in my ear.  I shivered.  "uuuuhhh!" I moaned.

"...and I let every young panting lesbian in the San Francisco bay
area have me on my beach blanket.  There were hundreds of them.  But I
refused to let any of them fuck me unless they were under twenty years
of age.  A girl has to have some standards.

"I'll wear the bikini for you later.  I wound up with a...."  I held
on to Annika for dear life and wished Jadzia and Ro would quietly
leave the room without making any distracting noises.

"....sopping wet beach blanket."

"Dear precious tramp," she whispered in my ear.  Annika was rubbing
one nipple or the other breast between her other thumb and finger,
licking my neck, kissing my cheeks and chin, fucking me furiously with
those wonderful three fingers.

Then I had to groan in her ear, bending over in my orgasm, biting her
nipples through her shirt and bra, closing my eyes and coming on that
delightful trio of fast-fucking fingers of hers.

Those Scandinavians seem to be always living up to their most
debauched reputations.

After a few minutes of panting, I made noises, conversation, light
talk.  Letting Ro and Jadzia know it was safe now for them to re-enter
this room.  I especially liked the way they both giggled at each other
when they first discovered Annika and me lesbianizing up a hot and
heavy storm.

I hoped they had been admiring our technique.  It had excited the
bejeezus out of me to look around Annika and see them watching me get
well and truly holy fucked.  There's a lot of exhibitionist in me.

Ro and Jadzia wanted to show us their wedding rings, from which I
deduced they had finally committed marriage in the first degree.

We congratulated the pair, and produced some Champagne for a toast to
the new couple.  We only had the two chilled bottles in the stasis
box, but outside Tuvok then bought more bottles of brut New York
Champagne, the `02, for the celebration we all had to enjoy.
Tradition said we must all welcome Ro and Jadzia Dax to the state of
holy matrimony.  Or whatever.  It didn't take a lot to make my crew
decide to party hearty.

It got very very merry after that.  Even Phoebe enjoyed being slightly
tipsy.  She questioned me whether I really liked my present, and I
said yes, oh yes.

Reflecting on how little thanks she got for some of her work. She had
a few patterns of clayware and dinner service's on the new Replicator
menu's.  Lots of credit involved.  Though it was pleasing to see her
little strokes of genius distributed throughout the quadrant, she felt
very distant from those designs now.

Someone transfers hard Credits, they take possession of their new
treasure, and that is the end of the matter.  Phoebe also has the
oft-times dubious professional views of the critics, but they are not
always supportive.  My famous sister still needed my approval.  I
could have cried to think of all those times, years ago, when I had
taunted Phoebe for her 'useless' drawing and carving.

When I had let something accidentally on purpose get damaged.

I recalled my hateful sins often, out there in the dark between the
uncaring stars.  When I go over the cold equations and realize the
odds say we should already be all dead.

At some point while mingling amongst my guests I discovered Annika
lying in a lounger alongside Harry Kim, carefully arguing some old
mathematical mystery about naturally occurring mini singularities and
the Big Bang.  She was so happy in her math.

They also made such a beautiful couple together, Harry and my
Valkyrie.

I wasn't supposed to know Annika has taken pity -- or something -- on
Harry twenty months ago, before Annika and I became a pair, and taken
Kim to bed with her.  Not once, but likely many times.

Now, every time they interacted, I saw the strains and the regard
between the two.  They had a special secret place all their own, and I
would never be able to acknowledge it, much less enter it.

Don't ask me how she managed to keep Mr. Kim as a friend.  She was a
Norse Goddess training for Ragnarok, and could do anything.

Annika looked to me as I nodded my head at the farthest of Phoebe's
studios.  I flashed both hands -- ten minutes -- and she nodded her
head.

I'd just made a circuit of the house, and a pair of friends on VOYAGER
had become a great deal more than that.  And in my bed, too, mine and
Phoebe's.  I'll have to change the sheets tonight before we went to
bed.

They should've asked first.  its MY bed .... well, me and Phoebe's.
Still .... Ani and I had our first sex on the floor of my cabin,
barely remembering to lock the door.

That left me with Phoebe's studio's as a place for my assignation with
my blond goddess.  The witch was keeping a private log of all the
places we'd done it on VOYAGER, and how.  With some artistic license.

It was a long diary by now, and she'd read some of her juicier
passages to get me in the mood.  She wasn't above inventing things.  A
year and a half and we were still in the honeymoon phase, though
neither one of us admitted it.

This was just going to be a new entry in that damned lovely log of
hers.  She was wearing one of her dildo's, I'd found it on her when I
managed a little friendly groping of my own.

Now I was going to enjoy that dildo.  She was my man and I was going
to make sure we had a little quality time this night.

The doors had my thumb signature, and it snickered open for me, and my
Jake.  He swarmed all over me for a second, but I shut him up, and he
placidly let me lock him in the other studio.  Good doggie, a little
scratching, petting and promises of later loving, and he was good for
the night.  All males were alike.

This was the studio with the good couch and the nice bed in it. Phoebe
kept them for her models, and sometimes for herself.  I know, I'd been
Phoebe's model more than once.  Filling in for some thin waif who
couldn't make it that day.  Tonight....

It didn't take long for me to strip and carefully fold my/Phoebe's
clothes.  Awaiting my baby, enjoying the feel of me being wet,
anticipating, little currents of the future going up and down my
spine.

I was to the door as soon as I heard the muffled knock, and then naked
me and clothed her were pawing the hell out of my body and hers.  I
made her put her clothes on the hung's, and then I was awkwardly
guiding her, me, and her rust-red dildo to the bed. Another set of
sheets I should change tonight.

I tapped the dildo off Annika, enjoying the feel of the compolodial
threads crawling back into the base of the Risan wonder.  Risa makes
the damned best dildo's in the Galaxy.

Her light bra was shrugged off her breasts, and I told her to lay
back.  Relax.  Enjoy herself.  Masturbate and keep that smile on her
face.  She has the most gorgeous shit-eatin' grin on her face when she
knows she's going to let me have my wicked way with her helpless weak
little damned-near two meter tall body.

Okay, one meter point eight seven eight.

And Annika may be my butch, but that doesn't mean she always runs the
show.  Quality time to me meant having the leisure to suck and nibble
on those large billowy breasts of hers.  Her nipples turned to hard,
projecting and dark red enjoyment when I get to teasing and worrying
and adoring them.  I loved excited nipples, the way they grew hard in
my mouth, the way Ani moaned, the way she made little puppy noises
when I kept biting on them.

Mine were the same way, excepting my nipples remained a lighter red
when they got hard and exciting.  We could fuck damned near anywhere
and at any time.  We enjoyed it when we had the leisure to suck and
nibble each other's gorgeous large breasts.

Annika said it always amazed her how such a small craft as me had such
a set of big sail's.

The other part was how she loved my ass.  She enjoyed my backside, she
said it looked like a little school girl's ass, and felt like one.
Small and tight and hard and perfect.  I'll take her word for it.
She's the one spent most of her life taking girls to bed.  I wasted
most of my life screwing men.

Finally I rolled Ani on her back again, after a little fondling of my
Norwegian's prime butt.  I'd never dare tell her she had a big ass,
but she did and I adored every square millimeter of it. First sign of
cottage-cheese ass and she's off to the Doctor's for a little rejuv
work.

Quality time now.  Time for what I wanted.

Her first cry in my ears told me my Ani was ready, her first moan when
my tongue found the indentation of her belly button was accompanied by
nervous fingers in the hair back of my ears.  When my teeth found the
insides of her thighs she was already open to me, her knees wide open
and reaching back toward her ears.

She gleamed in the uneven light, her groin needing me, ready for me.
She made a long and painful cry when my tongue first traced her, from
clit to pussy hole.  I wanted very much to fist my baby, to make her
cry and squeal and gasp in shudders of her coming's.  Bit I wanted
something else first.

My considerate lover squeezed a pillow under ass, letting my tongue
lave her without so much crick in my neck.  I stopped for a second,
realizing what else I wanted to do, but I lacked a sheath sprayer.

Somehow my butch, always thinking ahead even now, has brought a minor
flute of sheath spray with her to our bed.  Good, good, good girl!

A few fingers to protect her sex, and I quickly had sheath sprayed
over her heiney hole.  Sanitary, sturdy, yet only molecules thick.

To Annika it felt as if my tongue was making direct contact, naked
contact, in her ass.  Annika moaned, crooned, and welcomed my fingers
in her pussy.  She brought her knees all the back to her head for
this, loving the feel of my tongue everywhere on her bottom.  We were
made for each other.  We were both sluttish whores, together.

Ani came twice for me, in quick succession.  Her turn now.

As she re-seated her rust-red dildo on her groin, I kept my fingers in
my sex, working myself, enjoying myself, being happy to see that
wonderful dick growing from her pubic hairs.  I was making sloppy wet
noises as I finger fucked my tight hot pussy, Oh, it was going to be
really good tonight!

My man not only had two large soft breasts for me to enjoy, he had a
penis twenty-four millimeters long by nine around plus hundreds of
little balls on threads along the sides.  She pawed my crotch, smiled
at me and said we won't need any lube for this. Being a gentleman,
though, she used it anyways.

My baby takes good care of me.

I was all tingles all over as Ani wriggled herself over me.  My body
was crawling with anticipation as she fit herself on top of me, my
legs opening for her, trying to wrap themselves around her slender
softness.  My hands were full of her breasts, my mouth diving to
nibble on her nipples, suck the hardness in, caressing her strong flat
girl's belly to my older accepting one.  She was perfect.  She was
glory.  She was my breath unable to fill my lungs enough as I felt her
firm cock in my body hairs, tickling, taking my mind away.

She stirred my sex, she rubbed my clit, she slid in my wet lubed slot,
she went in so fast once she found my tight hot wet hole. She was all
the way in me on the first stroke.  My hands found the strength of her
flawless back, my kisses found her chest and arms and breasts, my feet
locked around the giving curve of her warm rounded hips.

Ani, Ani, Ani, Ani, it was my prayer of thanks to the gods and the
stars and to Starfleet for giving me this woman to love.  In my
loneliness and my despair and my need, Annika had come to me.

"I love you," I repeated to Ani, time and time again, her hips
grinding out the beads of my prayers.    The sounds of our groins
slapping together, the wet suck of my acceptance, the grunts we gave
to each other like a mutual Greek chorus, we made this Mantra of
perfect lust to our Stations of need and want.

Eventually I came, and kept coming, my orgasm's the penance's freely
given to my only deserving girl.

What had I done before her?  Waited for her, however little I realized
it.  She had come to me, the supposed straight woman, seeing something
I never allowed myself to see in my mirror's, seeing my need for
another woman's touch.  Again.

It had been so many years since I had touched a woman's soft skin, and
she ignited me when first she stole that hasty kiss at my cabin door.

I caressed Ani, our sweaty bodies proclaiming the successful
bench-press of yet another glorious fuck.  She felt good lying on me,
I welcomed the weight, we slid on each other, we were comfortable in
our nudity, in our being together again.

We showered, listening to the gurgles and clangs and hoots of real
water going through real pipes. relishing the slick wetness of soap
and teasing hands.  We made a mess, but I replicated the towels clean
and dry on my credit, and we did the bed as well. Making a game of it,
prolonging the time we spent naked together. I got to slap a little
Nordic butt and she tickled me.  She made me feel so young, and
without any rejuv yet, either.

Her revelation came out of the blue.  Did I know there was a statue of
me in the corner?

There was.

She felt uneasy, but she left me alone, left me to my own discoveries.
I wished her to leave me alone, so she left me. She trusted me to do
what I needed to do, alone.

Under a blue throw was a life-sized prone statue of me, and what a
statue!

It was me, nude, and such a nude as I think I never was. Phoebe's work
has always been compared to Maxfield Parrish in stone, with some
justice.  She had the gift of curve becoming grace, angle being
revelation, that was a natural and not learned talent.  Even as a
jealous child I knew my sister had a special eye for what should be,
rather than what was.

Even her paintings were totally accurate portrait oils, absolutely
uncompromising.  Even Oliver Cromwell would have been pleased with her
honesty with a brush.  But yet, even in her honesty she gave a little
air of something else.

Her explorer Kirk in planes of heated bronze is merely him seated in
an office chair, prosaic, nothing much you say.  But the office chair
actually sits in the lobby of Starfleet HQ, before a real desk with
real papers and PADD's,  and an upright Comm, of a century ago.  Yet
he is a fanatic bound in unseen chains.  He rages, he wishes to be
back in the Star Lanes, his tense back screams it.  His eyes are not
calm, but still searching, his lips are about to blister the backside
of some pretentious bureaucrat.

He is a caged animal, sitting in the wrong place doing the wrong
things at the wrong time.  His natural habitat is far from here.

You knew he was invited to attend the fitting-out ceremonies of the
new ENTERPRISE.  He holds a brass flimsy which invited him out to
orbit one more time.  An invitation to a mystery and an end the way
Kirk would have wanted it to be.

All this in a yellow figure sitting in a lobby before a cluttered
desk.

As a figure born of stone and air I lay on my side, a naked woman
transformed into .... not Aphrodite, not beauty, but Athena.

Warrior goddess, powerful, jealous, but caring and compassionate to
those who worshipped her.  A figure in dense creamy marble, a figure
carved from ivory and made to be clothed in gold.  I took my breath
away, I was so strong, so stately, even in my small stature, and lying
on my side.  I realized I was seeing the young sensual Katie Janeway
Phoebe loved in her memories, and not the old cranky worn female I was
to me.  I had achieved Godhood.

She had used some process I'd never seen her use before, drilling
holes and placing individual artificial hairs onto my head and brows
and pubic mound.  My hands had to caress that hair, and found it real
to the touch, and not just to the eye.  My pubic hair was more wiry
than that on my head, and my crowning glory was both longer and had
the waves in it I used to maintain in its longer spill.

It was a me that would never grow old, sag, nor tire.  All that was
lacking were two more figures.  One of them was Jake, unconcerned in
my nakedness, his head resting on my swoop of hip and line of woman.

There was one other figure missing.

My Goddess enshrined also had a sex cleft complete with labia, a hint
of clit at the apex, and vagina at the other end.  A hint of heiney
hole buried in my buttcheek's, realistic little rises circling my
nipples, and my eyes followed me as I admired myself.

One hand was outstretched, my face was looking across from me, and
eventually the mystery unraveled for me.

I found the other figure quite quickly.  A nude Phoebe.

Her statue was made to be fitted against mine, just so, exactly. Her
long tapering hand would be in my body hair, and mine would be in
hers.  Together, there could never be any doubt that a stranger seeing
the two together would understand a pair of loving lesbian women were
portrayed.  Two most graceful and loving dykes were fondling each
other's exquisite groins.  Beauty and devotion, Athena and Circe,
Goddess and a lesser Goddess, as faithful handmaiden.

Myself and my sister, Phoebe.

I was white with rage once I understood.

I was also tremendously flattered at being given the outward calm and
grace of Godhood.  See the pair of statues together, there was not a
lesbian in the Galaxy who would wish for more than to be the
handmaiden of my Athena Incarnate.  I felt like kissing Phoebe in
gratitude for producing what I dearly wished I was. And then
strangling her.  Our past, our young incest and romance, was something
I had never revealed, not even to my compulsory Psych counselor at the
Academy.

It was something special to the each of us, and for no one else's ears
or eyes.  Not my lovers, and not hers.  This was forbidden ground, and
she knew it.  Our past's were gracious and natural and secret.

I understood clearly that this paean was an outward expression of her
fear I would die out there in the cold dark.  Welcome to the club.  We
all on VOYAGER had the same fear and foreboding.

This pair of statues were an immortalizing of me, of me as she had
known and loved me.  This was the touchstone of her consolation.

It still made me furious.  It was a measure of my confusion that I had
in my hands a heavy sledge hammer, before I drew back, shuddering.  I
had destroyed enough of Phoebe's work in my youth. No more.

I was also jealous beyond understanding.  I would become dust and this
pairing of forbidden lust would survive.  I could not destroy it,
though I hated it as much as I adored it.

It is another measure of my sister's skill that I was in love with the
statue of her as Circe as I was with myself as Warrior Goddess.  To be
a Goddess, even a lesser one, is to be a member of a very small and
select circle, after all.

I replaced the throw's and returned to the embers of the party.

---

After decades as sister's and lover's, Phoebe and I had long since
attained a measure of telepathic ability, or so it appeared.

Phoebe had been to me a dozen times during the party, wary and maybe
understanding what I had discovered in her studio.  It was a measure
of our ability to deceive that apparently only my Ani and Chakotay
understood how disturbed I was.  Phoebe helped me change her bed,
later, and we both managed to chuckle at the use it had gotten that
night.  I had to explain why it was such a relief to us all that
B'Elanna and Chakotay had finally gotten around to mating like
wildcats instead of fighting like a pair.

It was just messy and unfortunate that the two left a number of rips
in the sheets.

I was off my rage by then.  Old Academy trick.  You act as if you're
calm, eventually you become calm.  Something the Vulcans brought with
them to the halls of academe.

Morning was breaking by the time we finally reached our mutual bed.
Out in the lawn several friends and fellow crew were wrapped in
blankets and peace, enjoying sleep where the bugs and noises could get
at them.  It is a measure of humanity's present civilization that so
many us are now accustomed to living with a reborn nature on our home
planet.

Phoebe had the glows off, and we moved by instinct and a little gray
pre-morning light.

We had new neighbors to our south and I could see the ladies enjoying
a little early morning sex in their long grass.  Phoebe had her gauzy
and filmy side showing, with a touch of "Nocturne" behind the ears and
on the wrists.  Whether or not she actually wanted to make love to me,
she appeared as the supplicant in our night's discussion.  Helpless
female, her appearance and manner proclaimed, do not hit.

What could I do but turn to her and let her into my arms?  I slapped
her hands, gently, when her fingers strayed where they shouldn't.  It
wasn't that sort of forgiving I had in mind, and after all, wasn't I a
married woman?  Almost?

Though I admit to a degree of comfort to feel her breasts against
mine, once she had my robe open.  And a happy tingle to feel her
strong hard belly on my hip, the brush of wiry hair against my ass.
But those days were over.

"One of those statues have to go, you know," I said.

She whimpered for long minutes, trying first to conceive in her own
mind of the loss of one of her children.  That catastrophic loss was
the first to be admitted and then denied.  I knew my Phoebe's mental
process by now.  But I also understood that I needed now to do nothing
more.

She had undertaken the first steps to her own Golgotha, and she needed
not any additional scourgings of my whip to make her reach the
terrible sacrifice she must undertake.  She would eventually arrive,
and the pairing would not be a pairing any more.  I imagined her
statue of Circe/Phoebe would be scraps of stone in a dumpster when she
was finished.

We had learnt to trust one the other in screaming fights and molten
nights, in misery and in tears and strong back's carrying the other's
load.  Being both sisters and lovers had dipped both our lives into
hard swords when the need arose.  We had been quenched in the same
frigid oils after long nights of work in hot forge and smith's
hammering.

It was another benchmark measure of our past's that only now did I
feel I had found a greater lover than I recalled my sister as being.

Time for the next step.

"I have a commission for you, Phoebe, dearest treasure," I whispered
into her ear.  "I am going to have you create a life-sized prone
figure for me.

"You are going to use my naked Viking for your guide.  You are going
to create a guardian of the Rhinegeld, and you are going to imbue in
her every ferocious strength of the Norse Gods training for Ragnarok."
Phoebe already understood, but she allowed me to continue, allowing me
the comforts of my own voice in the silences of our bedroom.

"Make her life size, and have her statue be one that might be fitted
against mine.  Make us lovers, the hell with Starfleet. We're both
lesbians and they might as well get used to it.

"Our outstretched hands will be in each other's happy honey pots. The
entire Galaxy will know that we two women, Goddesses, are homosexual
and passionately in love.  They will know whenever they see our two
statues.

"Do you think you could carve two women like that?"  Phoebe made a
small motion and I knew she'd just nodded a yes.  It felt good being
home and in my sister's hands.

"By the way," I added, "I'm proposing to Annika tomorrow.  Would you
like to be my bridesmaid?"  Another nod.

Her face lifted to mine, a question on her nose.

"Can we wait until MaMa gets back from the Seychelles?  She can give
you away."

---

The End