he BLTS Archive - Vanity fifth in the Aide Memorie series by R. Schultz (cousindream@aol.com) --- Disclaimer: All Trek belongs to Paramount and ViaBorgCom, who lust after the money it represents, but do not love it. My story is written because I love Trek, but make no money off it. This story mine under Berne Copyright Laws. 13,800 words, written October, 2002, for the FFF. --- It was planned. Every day, barring snow, I ran across the fields of my ancestral home, trying not to see the memories they held for me. Beside me ran Jake and Jake Junior, always eager for their outing, always eager to chase rabbits or varmints. And patient as I combed the burrs out of their long coats. Even so I should trim their coats one more time before winter, that'd let me get a step up on that problem for a while. Each day I ran the trails through fallow oats, barley and wheat, wildflowers and weeds. I'd pulled most of the old fence line down, but still had my property line posted. I'd installed tall bright red compolodial posts to show me the trails if there was a light snow cover, and tall yellow ones to encompass the boundaries of the three ex-farms I now considered my own. Beverly owned three ex-farms and between us we owned a long stretch of my childhood's river. Delaware Indians, Sauk, Fox and Miami now hunted my lands after polite requests. And I sporadically found trails of wild pig, wolf, or elk. The dangerous carnivores were tagged with AvoidHumans implants by an efficient ever-present flying robot presence. This was a continent repairing the long-ago rape my ancestors subjected it to. Jake and Jake Junior ran with me, and their joys and health were one reason I ran. Each day I did my run, pushing myself on my damned too-short legs. I ran for my life. I also ran to keep my aged body in a condition appealing to the young and not so young women I still managed to pick up. I ran and hoped some day my Seven of Nine, my sweet ex-Borg, Annika Hansen, would return to Terra. To me. I ran and waited for Naomi Wildman to return and marry me. I ran and tried not to dwell on the dichotomy of loving two women who were not here. One of whom did not know I loved her, and who might no longer care much for me. The other might never come back, much as my husband had. The Stars comprise a deep and dark and deadly sea. Me? I ran. Each day I ran and rediscovered Indiana. my home. Each day my heart sang to see the approaching figure of my neighbor in her own sweaty race for life through the flatlands of Indiana. She was beautiful, she was almost my own eighty-eight years old, and she was the Doctor who was largely responsible for my health and the slim girl apparently in her low thirties who was me. The stunning body I now wore was a gift to an old fat woman from my neighbor, who was the one-time chief medical officer on the legendary ENTERPRISE under Picard. The redhead whose running form I espied coming towards me. Beverly Howard Crusher Selar. Fellow relic, cute female and fellow aggressive lesbian. She had laid my decrepit and dispirited body down on her BioBed and made art out of a medical procedure. She gave me my rejuvenation procedure and gave me a new life. She gave me youth, Naomi Wildman gave me her love, and my new goal. I ran across my prairie and Bev's, I ran to and from my river, I swam in my river, I ran for my life. I was eighty-eight years old and I ran so I might live another eighty. I ran, as did Beverly. My life consisted of running for my life. And picking up young and not-so-young women. I am a lesbian. Most of the time. The trees were shedding their colorful leaves in droves now. Each frigid October morning worked the magic of fall for me. Soon snow would be lingering in dark corners of the forests. Already my breath steamed ahead of me and whirled past my racing head. Old leaves were slippery underfoot, and my fields of wild flowers were browning, as they must. I mentally fast-forwarded to spring and ruminated as to where I would sow millions of pink cornflowers, and white, from the sides of my filch. Sowing by sowing, my fields became flower plots, glorious acres of colors in spring and summer and fall. I ran to meet Beverly, enjoying the sight of her long strong dancer's legs devouring distance. Enjoying the jiggle of her breasts in her exercise bra, enjoying the smile she had for me. Especially the smile. Tatiana, her wolf, and her two cubs, ran to dance and play with my two Irish Setter's, and to go off haring together. Beverly ran to touch my gate of my yard, and then to return home. I ran to touch the gate at Beverly's place, then to head back to my own abode. It was way too chilly now to jump in my river, on my way back. But just maybe once more before snow..... Beautiful Beverly. Wife to a Vulcan woman. Mother by reason of carrying two children, Wesley, a human boy and a Vulcan girl. Co-Mother of two sons borne by her wife decades before. So vital she was.... I slowed as we came together, my hand raised being sufficient to bring her to me. She was so.... I put a hand to her shoulder and pulled her face to mine for a kiss. She had such a sweet soft strong expressive mouth, so chasuble, so pretty. I broke the kiss, loving her, basking in her look, her gentle face, the way she traced my eyebrows with a finger. We kissed again. This time with more passion. I'd just crossed a boundary line. We weren't friends any more. We were more. Just like that. I pulled her to me, and our heads tilted for another kiss. Ignoring the cold air, ignoring our sweat mingling as we held the kiss. Ignoring our pasts. And futures. She was married and I waited for two women. We were in the present, and that was sufficient. We'd just become more than neighbors, and we both knew it. Just like that. "Kathryn...?" she began. "Can I come over to your place tonight?" I asked. "Will you invite me to dinner .... beautiful woman?" "Of course," she breathed. "Lovely woman." Then she put her hands behind my head for another kiss, a longer one this time. A better one. She kept her mouth to mine, I kept my mouth to hers, and I let my hands flow over the sweaty texture of satin her neck was, her strong sculpted face, her hair in my hands, I decided I liked very much that red glory in my fingers. She ran her fingers through my own long gray tresses, her kiss never breaking, never hurting, only slightly pushing. Until our tongues were .... not fighting ,no. Caressing. I liked the taste of her, the feel, the way I could feel her breasts against me, my own nestling into the warmth beneath hers. So long we'd been neighbors, so long we'd known were both lovers of other women, so long. Yet I didn't know how her nipples felt between my teeth. How ticklish she was, or how she tasted. Each woman had her own individual quirks and subtleties. I'd realized that a long time ago. But I'd never sampled hers. Her tempers? Her graces? How her warm naked body felt under my own sweaty flesh? So much to learn, so much to look forward to. Now. I'd lived a full life, and now I was going to enjoy a little dessert after my many often frugal meals of years gone by. Beverly's hands were on me, shaking, palsied, the rush of contact strong in her, the thrill of another lover under her hand. The back of her hand pushed against my groin and I groaned and pushed back with my body. She swam to my backside, the small of my back, and I licked the line of throat to the hollow. Her sweat tasted briny and human and warm and very much her. Our kiss turned brutal, and I didn't know which of us had become the starving soul seeking manna. It hurt but I did not back off, it made me shudder to find her tongue licking the lines of my lips, then once more invading me. "Beverly...." I managed. "Uohmnnm?" Beverly managed, her mouth chewing and sucking on my ear. It tickled. "Tonight." She lifted her head a little, her eyes full of glory and sheer lust. Unable to feel her nipples through her clothes, still I worked them, gazing up at the woman who was going to bed me tonight. I knew they were hard, even without being able to tell. Somehow we separated, anticipation already singing a loud chorus in my blood. We held hands, then one hand, looking into eyes that already held a new depth to them. Ooops! "Bev....." I managed, "are the puppies....." "Tatiana lets them sleep with her, they're no bother at night. They don't whine and haven't for weeks." Trust two dog owners -- dog partners? -- to get right to something important. Shouldn't be any interruptions.... "I'll be dressing fancy," I mentioned. "I've this long dress that I've been meaning to wear some time soon...." "And I've this killer pants suit." We both knew I was making this a major event. Deliberately. "Suitable for dancing?" "Made for it. Slow? There's always the tango?" "Slow. A few waltzes? You lead?" "Love to. I'll wear flats. You? Medium heels? Perfume?" "The works," I said, my breath blowing in the rising mid-day wind. "Expect a surprise." "And you too," she smiled. We were building a date, a romantic interlude. Flip a coin which one of us is seducing the other. No, we're each seducing the other. My decision, but once made.... My whole body was tingling. My whole body was also getting an unwelcome chill what with all my sweat and the wind. "I gotta run or I'll freeze to death." I said as we touched fingers one more time. "Me too." Then she leaned to me and we gave the other a soft chaste kiss. And promises for tonight. "Sixish," she said. As I continued my run, I looked back, seeing her do the same. When we were on our return to home legs, we kissed with barely a pause in our strides. We were promising better tonight. Tonight! She was so beautiful! I hoped she found me beautiful as well. --- She was so beautiful! I hoped she found me beautiful as well. My vanity demanded, hoped, for her admiration. My vanity preened when she greeted me at the door, having let me mentally compose myself in the short walk from my flic to her door. I had my cloak tightly about me for the chill in the air and the emotions tingling me. It was a lovely cloak, very medieval and romantic I thought, much more so than a coat. Big red velveteen collar, midnight blue velvet outside, and able to be reversed if need be. A large gold Irish pre-historic Celtic pattern clasp pin held it closed at the throat. A recreation of something once owned by a Chicago museum back in the days when Chicago still existed. A gorgeous exciting set piece for the night still to come, I hoped. Beverly commanded Tatiana and her pups to quiet, but they were impossible to command, being happy to see someone they knew. It would take hours for them to adjust to me. That was fine. I knew I had an evening of enchantment ahead of me. I hoped to hell I did. I'd better. If not, someone would hear about it. Beverly backed off after we kissed on our cheeks, letting me gauge her and give my approval. She was as gorgeous as I had hoped she would be, and I told her so. Her flush of color in her cheeks told me her own vanity appreciated my murmurs of admiration. Vanity. We had both changed from being old tired to woman to creatures of beauty and grace. We complimented each other, we were creatures full of vanity. Justified, I hoped. She was dressed completely in bone white, a two-piece pantsuit that deliberately clung to every millimeter of her revitalized body as if it had been painted on. Her almost-outlined groin drew a glance, which I pretended not to make, and her happy nipples proudly stood out from her breasts. From the white pumps she wore, to her coiffure'd fiery hair, she was a vision of lust at the same time she was almost demure. Long sleeves, with a line of seed pearls on one forearm, a simple pearl necklace, and pearls at her ears. Three small rust-and-cream barrettes controlled her now wavy hair. Unaccustomed hints of coloring touched her eyelids and lips, a looped belt of cream and gold circled her waist. I'd expected green, because of her red hair, but she looked so perfect in white.... She was beautiful. She'd gone all out for this night. I turned and let her take my cloak, letting her gaze on one of my better efforts. She licked my bare shoulder and said how enchanting I looked. She played to my vanity, and I loved it. My dress was a copy of a gown straight from the Directory period, including my long gray hair up and curled and bound by artifice. With a thin platinum tiara adorned with twelve small round sapphires helping to control it. A bodice that was cut to reveal and lift my breasts, with the nipples thus distinctly emphasized by deliberately antique red lip gloss. My dress was blue gauze, white voile cotton, with an extremely high waist just under my large breasts. The skirt was long and hid my ankles, I had white gloves to my elbows, and wore a black throat ribbon with a cameo of Grandma Gretchen on it. Underneath my hiding skirt line, I wore medium straps. I'd considered nosebleed heels, but facing an evening of dancing, it seemed wise to forego them. I hoped I hadn't gone overboard. Yet I'd wanted to appear as if I had just stepped away from a giggle with M. Josephine, having commiserated with her over the continued absence of Marshal Bonaparte in Egypt. Is that going overboard? Maybe I shouldn't have rouged my nipples too? That at least was authentic, they did that back then. I loved the effect in the mirror, and had a sudden vision of Beverly's lips carmined with the color after taking them into her mouth. Of course the effect was partially ruined by the giant red Rose I had tattooed all over my right breast, with the nipple at the heart of it. Still, I thought it striking. We held hands and Beverly drank me in. And we held hands, and we held hands, and we.... "Hello?" I gently asked Bev, after I had begun to turn bright red from her enjoyable fascination. I was spiking and that embarrassed me a little. In this outfit we could both enjoy the show my breasts made. I shook her hands a little and she awakened from her mesmerized state. Am I vain to glow under that sort of admiration? She must have enjoyed the effect. If she bent down to lick a nipple all my long planned night was going to melt down into a two-dyke orgy on this wooden floor. And all there was here was a big oval rag rug. I sweat a little thinking about it. We held hands, and in a stately fashion we sauntered side by side into the main room. My hand felt sweaty in its glove, and I felt tingly all over as she continued to drink me in. "Dance first?" Bev asked. If only the Crown prince and his retinue had been there to look on us as we made a grand entrance. We should have made a date at a Holo Palace and we could have attended the Archduke's Ball. Too late now. But in my vanity I found myself drifting there anyways, in my imaginations. Anyone who could drive a Star Cruiser half way across a Galaxy has to have a strong imagination. A loop of chenille went from my waist to my glove, and a dance card with pencil dangled from my wrist. As Beverly turned to face me, she bowed to me, one foot slightly out in best Louis Quantze courtier fashion. A large Holo blossomed to life on the wall opposite the flagstone fireplace, and I could see a small orchestra of mustachioed musicians bent over their instruments. The men in their tuxedos began to play the "Blue Danube", and Beverly asked; "May I have this dance?" Somehow I got hold of my dance card and the pencil, grinning into the face of the prettiest Doctor that had ever graced Starfleet. I suddenly didn't know what to write in my card. "Citizen Tallerand," she voiced, suddenly identifying herself as a creature of my costume's era. We were in a pretend, and this was a ball in the Tulleries, and the universe was full of glitter and pomp and pride and romance. The music was of the wrong period, but I loved Strauss, schmaltzy as he was. Therefore the music was right. We came together, Bev leading, my one arm languidly held in the air. We circled and I closed my eyes and ears until I heard the chatter of Versailles at play, until I knew all eyes were on us as we circled gracefully on the ballroom floor. I opened my eyes and gazed into the warm green of she who I knew would be my night's lover. She leaned towards me, willing us to kiss. I raised my hand from hers and touched her chin with my dance card, stopping her slight motion. Scarlett O'Hara would have added; "You overstep yourself, Sirruh!" Reminding my partner that there were rules .... and steps to be taken in a seduction, no matter how eagerly sought by both of us. I needed to say nothing, for Bev grasped my gloved hand and brought my knuckles to her lips. We resumed the dance, barely comprehending the violins for the magic of the night. My body was held close, and I burned or itched or tingled or dreamed to the pressures and the knowledge of the quite solid flesh underneath our clothes. We danced four more waltzes, and I heard them. Yet could not today tell you which ones they were. Excepting for the fourth, and for that we moved at a heady pace in the "Merry Widow". The rules were satisfied, and I let her kiss me on the cheek, then let her cheat and kiss me on the lips. Though the Crown Princess might be scandalized. Bev made a motion, and I heard a discreet gong announcing dinner. We broke apart, still linked by a hand, which Beverly again kissed on the knuckles. We went to our meal, but all I could think of was what we might do after our viands and wine. Of course there were candles on the table. Computer lowered the lighting a little, just enough to make the night air smaller, yet not dark enough to make eating a risk-filled undertaking. Bev had two bottles open and breathing, in baskets, and a serving cart to the side, stasis boxes on the top. Bev seated me, then poured a finger's worth of the red into a broad glass. From the label I could see it was New Zealand wine, which immediately made me think of sheep, which was an accurate presumption. I nodded acceptance, noting it had the chalky undertaste any good aged Bordeaux-type does. The lamb was shanks with lemon and ginger noodles and smelled heavenly. It had to be replicated, but that was just fine with me. There was an upper limit to my snobbery. The lamb tasted quite lean and crisp, wonder of wonders. The white was an Australian Chablis, and I thought that nice as well. Out on my dishes came wild duck with cashews, roasted apples, mushrooms and what Bev identified as prunes, as well as Saffron bread. We tasted, we gazed at the other, we anticipated. Surprisingly Beverly wanted to hear me talk about my past in the fleet. I presumed she meant something I could laugh at now, not anything likely to bring tears to my eyes. Or maybe both. So I told her about Michael Sullivan, an Irish publican I was in love with. How he was a HoloDeck pretend and how I must have been badly in need of a good romp in the hay at the time. "So what did you eventually do?" Bev smiled. "I became a regular user of my HoloDoctor's massages." I explained. "It was that or pick a lover out of the available shipboard gene pool. Which might disrupt the ship, which I couldn't allow." "Were his massages that good?" I debated explaining how good, when I realized Beverly had guessed the answer. "Sweet Jesus," she said. "You .... used him. It." "Him, please. He became a sentient being in his own right. And yes, so far as I know no one in the crew knew. He was my friend then, and today still is. The Federation classified him as a living being, and forbade ever terminating his program. "No one knew his massages were more than that. Beverly.... That's a secret, between us. Please?" "What secret? I see nothing. I hear nothing. I know nothing." she returned. Her face was inscrutable for a minute, then she grinned and raised her glass in a toast. "Here's to the better grade of friends." We clinked glasses. "And here's to sex," she proposed. "Hear, hear," I returned, clinking glasses. We now shared a secret. We were not as before. I didn't ask for a secret in return, but she tilted her head to one side and gazed at me for a long moment. "Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Admiral Picard, provided the X-gamete for my, our, Selar's and my two sons together. He knows it, but has never asked for anything in return." We clinked glasses together, warming to our new mutual trust. I was sweating a little, and I didn't lie to myself and say the room was too warm. It was the wine and my memories and the way I tried to remember exactly how Bev appeared when naked. I served myself a little more duck with cashews from the cart, and Bev was hostess enough to let me serve myself. The roast apple chunks and mushrooms and prunes tasted divine. Beverly told me a little about Natasha Yar as we sparingly ate. It seems there had been an infection on the ENTERPRISE, and everyone was drunk from it, and acting sans inhibitions. The good Doctor had done her damnedest to seduce Captain Picard, but had no luck in the matter. A drunken Natasha wearing naught else but a seated Risan dildo and a transparent robe, waylaid her in the corridors and halfway dragged and halfway invited Beverly into her cabin for a bout of badly needed sex. Lesbian sex, but Bev responded to the touch of the tall blond. It had been the bizarre beginning to a long romance, one in which Beverly finally realized she enjoyed sex with women too much to ever contemplate ending the practice. In the pause, while her green eyes were still misty from memories, I ventured a request. I badly wanted the body under those green eyes and exquisite face, but I wanted more dancing, more romance, a build-up to what we both knew was to occur this night. "You've taught me a few steps from Louis Fourteenth...." In seconds our feast was the past. The night lay ahead, but first came the dynamics of the dance. Bev and I put everything back in the stasis boxes when Bev remembered the puppies. Better safe.... We came together, we kissed, her breasts rubbed against mine and we both grew stiff against the other. The music played on, and I moved us back onto the cleared main room and it's ancient wooden floor. Instead of Seventeenth Century music, we settled for pianoforte and leisured Handel and Mahler. They spiced the air, and we circled on the wooden floor and I admired continuously the green eyes so soft and wet in the soft light. Her hand kept mine in the air, she was so courtly and eventually, with many hesitations, I let Beverly kiss me. At last. We danced and we danced, and we would kiss. Then back off to appreciate the face and the line of throat. Then to dance and kiss once more. We wove the magic spell of lust and regard and pleasure and softness and kissing. We put each other under an enchantment, we put each other into a foretelling. We each knew the next moves in the wizard's weave we drew from the presence of the other. Then Beverly bent to take a nipple into her mouth, and I laid back my head and lifted my heavy nipples to her lips and tongue and teeth. She took me into her mouth and the sudden warmth threatened to melt me into a liquid on the floor. She sucked me stiff and large and hard and hot and then took my rose red breast into the soft blast furnace of her head. I groaned, and opened my eyes for another kiss, seeing the lip gloss on her lips now, the smeared ancient style lipstick coloring her perfect lover's face. I'd counted on seeing those smears when I choose my nipple rouging. Beverly was all sharp facial bones and flushed and glowing and soft and warm. I cried a keening, missing the sucking and warmth, and feeling the painful stiffness of my nips. All without unclothing me in the least. We kissed and kissed and I fingered my own spiking flesh, willing an end to the romance and a hurtling into the sex. I looked about under hooded eyes, finding the couch pushed back against the wall under the Holo orchestra. I began to retreat to it's support and comfort, and Beverly kept the kiss and yet still helped me and guided me. It wasn't easy backpedaling and kissing at one and the same time. But we managed. I fell back into the swirl of the couch, my back to the rear padding, Beverly's lips still glued to mine. My dress became rumpled, but I'd anticipated sacrificing it to the needs of the moment. I bent, lifting my hips, and pulled it's volume to me, revealing myself nakedly to Beverly's regard and gaze. I wore a pair of antique style patterned white cream thigh hose, outlining the soft naked skin of my hairless groin for Beverly. "I can grow my hair back if you wish..." I whispered in her ear. "Tomorrow. Maybe," she returned. "I like hair, but this is so incredibly beautiful, so decadent...." "My shoes..." Beverly paused to help me lose the white straps, and then stood, contemplating my open-thighed invitation. "Lights down twenty percent.... Another ten," she commanded. Turning her home into a twilighted grotto. She held out her hand to me, then helped me rise to my feet. "Let's be a little slower...." She needed say naught else. We kissed some more, and I smiled when her hands stole to my back to find the binds of my long gown. She fumbled them twice, and then I twirled, one hand keeping my slightly disarranged hair out of the way. She found the binds, releasing me from my beautiful raiment. She reached under my arms as the cloth rumpled to the floor, her fingers cupping me, enjoying the heft of my breasts and the stiffness of my nips and the globe of glandular hardness behind them, deeper in the giving flow of my breasts. "Watch the fingers...." I commanded, knowing they now were reddened from my lipsticked nipples. She rose then, and I stepped out from my dress to the side and off, revealing my two half-petticoats. Those also came off, and I was naked to her. I brought her fingers to my mouth as I turned to face her, sucking them clean as I did so. The rouging tasted flat but it was so very erotic. Then I found her blouse binds, then her pants also slipped loose. A second's crouching, and Beverly stepped out of her clothes, shucking her pumps as she did so. Her lips tasted warm and were quivering, my hand found her trimmed groin, hers found the baldness of mine. We both felt slick moisture on our hands, we both groaned in our kiss. "Beverly," I murmured, "you have such nice long legs, do you think we could...." "....Sixty-nine? Only one way to find out..." When did we become so close we could finish the other's sentences? Like palsied dotards we fumbled our way to the floor, throwing the couch pillows down for us to lay on. I lifted a knee in the air, she did the same, and I rushed to her beautiful fragrant cunt like a moth to a flame. My tongue immediately began working her, my lips sucked up her clit, my soul was nourished by the taste of her. I needed her. Else I must die. Darling Beverly gave me a few erratic licks, then she murmured something. I knew what her words were, and I sighed as her fingers began to play in my groin, lighting fires with each caress, each brush, each impalement. Sixty-nine was not a comfortable option with us, and I regretted the loss. I had always enjoyed this style of joining with other women my size, never finding myself distracted by my own needs or that of my lover of the night. Rather, licking the other as she licked me had always been an enriching process, a squaring of enjoyment, a cubing. It was not surprising to find Beverly jerked and wallowed in her own come within a minute or two of my first kiss of her sweet quim. Fire hair equals fiery sex with her, or so the customary wisdom said. It was pleasing to discover I could make her spasm for me so quickly. I felt empowered. There's always been a lot of butch in me. Starship Captains are, by definition, butch. It's part of the job description. Beverly should be .... interesting. She's been a Starship Captain as well. Butch on butch. Quickly I rolled onto my back, my feet in the air, being a slave to my own long drawn-out come. It just kept getting better and better and better. Beverly vaulted over me, pressing her face and practiced tongue onto me as her fingers fucked me. I had to hold her hand and direct its speed and angle and cried again and again as I came for my lovely neighbor, my lover. She crawled up my side, ignoring the floorboards, pulling a pillow to her for her upper body. "Beverly...?" I almost questioned. "Do you have any IDEA how long I've wanted to suck on that gloriously beautiful rose you've made that breast of yours into? This is my chance, and if it's not a earth-moving experience I might have to assassinate you for misrepresentation...." "Okay," I breathed into the night air. "But then I get to bury my face in that damned red-haired pussy of yours. And after that we're going to bed. Promise?" "Whurmphrumpraggggnnn," she said, her mouth full of tattooed me. Getting that big red Rose tattoo on my right breast had made me itchy of flesh and horny for sex for near a week afterward, but it was one of my best investments ever. Silence, lengthening into fire in my belly. It just kept getting better and better, the longer she sucked and played with my other breast and nipple. Beverly finally sneaked a hand down to my very wet pussy, but I laid hold of it. "Beverly?" I asked with a husk to my voice, "I can come just from your sucking and playing with my breasts...." I had to stop to groan louder when she ground my nipple gently between her molars. "Would you please? I want to have that between us, its something special, not all my girls have been able.... "I want you to...." "Whamamamdynneyennneydaaa..." she promised, and I lay back to enjoy my slow intense buildup. This was going to take a while. However, I don't think I'll be bored. Tatiana and her pups were gone, probably to the kitchen to someplace warm. It's a hard and boring life, being a dog. Oh, this was becoming very good, I was inching tighter and hotter in my belly and my breasts took all my attention, it was becoming so gooder and gooder.... With Beverly I wanted this. I wanted our sex to have that special magic. As I writhed and moaned and clawed at the wooden floor, I knew this was going to be something special. Tonight, tomorrow night, any night. I trusted her to take care of me. I wanted her to know she could make me come, through my breasts alone. I wanted this slow exquisite climb until I must fall off the cliff's edge that was building up in my groin. My thighs kept spasming, my pussy cried for something large and wet inside me, I held on to the sucking and biting and licking and manipulating and holding and my breasts must be twice their normal size, no matter what my eyes told me.... I mumbled, and she slid over me to my other side, knowing my needs. This is one of the special secrets of a woman with a woman that she knows so often and so well what I need and want and must have.... The pillow under her arms, her teeth quickly nibbling and sucking and swallowing and loving my left breast. Her hand re-discovered the other breast, never ceasing in its manipulation and irritating. My hands clawed the air, my knees were in the air, my cunt burning, I must, I must, I must, I must must must rip at my clit with my fingers and make myself come as dear dear dear sucked and bit at me and I went rigid time and again as I did NOT rub myself into a come with my fingers and had nothing in my mind but my approaching come which slowly crept closer and closer as my tits grew larger and larger and more fiery and hard and large and dear dear dear Bev kept sucking and biting and hurting my tits which must be bleeding no matter what my eyes said to me.... She was tireless, and I built. She sucked and I built. She nibbled and she hurt nipple between finger and thumb and I built. I built until I must glue her in place, until I must force hard breast into her warm wet mouth and I must arch my back until only feet and head and hand touched the floor. Until I nearly passed out from the rushing meteorite that was my cunt burning and coming and rippling with electric shocks. Beverly, dear sweet darling Beverly gave me a blessing and I ejaculated once, twice, thrice, four times on her hardwood floor. I could look down and see the little jets come from out of my pussy, my eyes full of stars instead of vision as I released. I panted, my body had the shakes, Beverly sucked gently now, licking, moving my nips with her tongue tip, keeping me overloaded until my body eased down its slope to simple sweaty palsy. She backed off as I rose up to where I could view the small puddle on the wood, hands bracing me. "B .. Beverly...." I stuttered. "Oh, how wonderful," she smiled. "You came for me so very good, dear Katie. That's lovely! "Do you always come that way with your breasts...?" "First time," I gasped, still shaken. Beverly slid down my body, wetting the palm of her hand in my fluid. She rubbed it into her own breasts and belly, her chest and arms, her face, licking the taste from her hand. She gleamed, her smile glittered, her body appeared liquid in the softer light. She continually wet her hand as she applied a coating of my precious fluid onto my belly and breasts. Too soon it was only a cooling stain on her living room floor. I got my own palm wet with the last of it and licked my flavor, my glorious oily flavor, off my hand. "Aren't you going to clean it up?" I asked. Usually I'm not.... Oh hell, yes I am a licker now. Maybe once upon a time I wasn't but I've become one. Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway, lesbian slut, she'll put her lips anywhere anytime.... Beverly bent and licked the floor a few times, inhaling deeply the faintly off scent of my come. The whole house was going to .... must already smell of flaming hot pussy.... "Isn't it...." I began. "Yes," Bev said, "it is about time to take this orgy to bed. Let me give you a hand up...." I showed off a little by springing myself erect from a prone position. No use having muscles if you can't flaunt them. Bev surprised me by bending and tossing me over her shoulder. She lifted me easily and gently slapped my buttcheeks. "Me Tarzan," she said in a basso profundo voice. "You Jane. "Now let's get this show on the road, Jane. To bed, rather." --- Afternoons were for the sick people. Mornings might be for us dykes, but after lunch, we opened shop and dispensed what good health we could. I ran the front desk, not that Computer much needed a sexy receptionist, but I made the whole establishment high-toned. Sure I did. Instead of a generally pleasing but sometimes maddening Holo run by the Computer, folks came in and got a real living-type human person. Me. The non-fun part came from the patients who thought I was just another Computer simulation. You ever realize how downright rude people are to Computers? Take this woman here. After a few centuries of our factories and developers poisoning Indiana, we Midwesterners all had at least one major Cancer in our lives, and anti-Cancer spots be damned. I'd had a bout with bone marrow leukemia, it was to be expected. What with the use of invasive nanotechnology coupled with specialized valence lipids, it was an out-patient problem. "Can I help you?" I asked. She tossed me her PADD, and my childhood interest in softball was suddenly useful. Jackie Robinson couldn't have snagged a line drive any better. I tossed the PADD into the feed slot, and smiled at her again. "What seems to be the matter?" She looked up, staring at me, and turned back to her own thoughts. I called up data, and fed a tab carousel inside to Bev. "Think we'll get snow before Thanksgiving?" I asked. She said; "Silence. Light music only." I merely smiled and vocalized; "Parsifal, second movement, Martian State orchestra." I was tempted to scream and shout, but after seven years in the Delta Quadrant, a single asshole didn't actually much rile me. I'd realized she thought me a Holo, and debated a squelch. This gal was in her seventies according to her PADD. She had gotten a black flag on her home DiKit for the lymphs in her groin, so she was in for treatment if it was warranted. "Beverly?" I subvocalized, "can you do me a favor?" In thirty minutes my Dancing Doctor had a partially disrobed old woman on her number one BioBed, chatting in an abstracted air, running scans and meds on the patient. Had a benign in each groin lymph, and Bev was flushing them out. A few minutes work. Beverly was comfy in her floater chair, humming to herself. I walk into the sickbay totally and absolutely naked. Bare feet to boot. After VOYAGER, one husband, dying a few times and helping run the North American District for two years, keeping a straight face was a cinch. "Here are both of the PADD's you requested, Doctor," I said. I stood next to Beverly, admiring her efficiency and poise. Then I bent to rub my body against her, jiggling and moaning in her ear. "You make me so hot, Twinkle Toes, the sight of you makes me want to crawl all over that tight body of yours and make mad passionate love to you for hours on end." With that I took a long lick of Bev's neck. Ending by nibbling on her ear. Beverly didn't skip a beat, or stop humming to herself. I reverted to standing calm and unfazed beside my Doctor. The very picture of restrained decorum. "Do you require anything else, Doctor?" I gently asked. "No," she said, "that will be all for now. The patient will be out to you in a few moments. Please have her bill ready." Once back out in the waiting room, I hurried into my clothes, listening on the Comm for what went on next inside Sickbay. "Sorry for the interruption," Beverly said. "I've called repairs, but they're not going to be here for an hour. "Don't you just hate it when your Computer malfunctions? Fortunately, apart from that one small glitch, the program is still functioning perfectly. Now, do get dressed, you're fine now. I'll bill HealthCard, of course. "Isn't the snow beautiful today? You take care of yourself. I'll schedule your next general for St. Crispin's Day, next year." When the patient came out I was all efficiency. I handed her PADD back to her with a smile and a comment. "Thanks for dropping in." Changing my tone of voice to a seductive bass, I asked; "Has anyone ever told you you're one hot looking babe? Lots of girls must hit on you, you're so cute." Back to an upright posture and a professional crispness to my voice for; "Your HealthCard has already paid for your visit. Do have a nice Thanksgiving." Change of voice and posture again. "Come back again soon, and maybe we can party." I smiled and made a little wave to her back as she raced out the door. Even us ProActive Holograms like to have fun. --- It was Saturday and Beverly stuck her head in the back door, as usual, right dead at eight in the morning. She let Jake and Jake Junior rush outside to romp in the early snow with Tatiana, Loki and Emma, her pups. "Room at the Inn for an uninvited guest?" she asked. I beckoned her over, lifting my head up from my blueberry tarts for a nice open-mouthed kiss. Encouraged, Beverly worked herself behind me and began easing hands between jeans and Ex-Admiral Janeway. "Haaeemanaeeaa," I murmured into her mouth, head twisted to kiss her. Enjoying her, warming to her hand in my groin. However, if she yanked on my short and curlies again, there'd be hell to pay! "Off," I said, once my mouth was free. "Go do something useful like running a kay or three on my treadmill. I'm busy right now, and have pies to finish as well. So go off with you. "And as you're the one let the dogs out, you get to brush the snow off them when they come back in the sun porch." With my hands sticky from dough, I gestured her back to me for another kiss. The witch groped me again, testing whether I was already juicy for her. Tease! She left me, and I soon heard "Base Line" cranking out a recent pop hit in the front room. Beverly lusted after the lead synther of the group, and was soon coming in on the chorus'. Under the music I could hear the treadmill running, knowing Bev was walking first, before picking up the pace. We both ran for our lives. I turned to put the tarts in the cooker, anticipating the scent of hot fruit soon to be in the air of my kitchen. Now I turned back to my pies. Sighing to know how long it'd take for us to eat these over-sugared and sinful desserts. A small treat, but something for only once in a while. No gorging. We'd manage. You don't become a Starship Captain unless you have more than a little self-discipline. You are what you eat, Beverly had pontificated more than once. I smiled, remembering my reply. "Then I'm going to turn into a carrot-topped redhead," I had returned. She had no answer to that one. The tarts were coming out at the time I slid all three pies inside the cooker. Tarts for a pair of prime tarts. Then I could hear scratching at the back door. Dogs aren't stupid. They know their proper place is someplace warm where they can be fed and get their ears scratched. "Dogs," I shouted, over the music. Bev came out, her back dark from her sweat, her brow gleaming. One by one the dogs came inside, each of them pausing a moment with me to see if they could cadge something inappropriate for dogs and very sweet. "Faint hope," I murmured at each as they came to me and the food. "Get. This is people food." When Bev came back, she paused to give me another nice kiss. I found myself reacting to the earthy way she smelled when she sweat in her run for life. Admiral Janeway can be a kinky slut. I stared at the pleasing jiggle her butt gave as she returned to the treadmill. Nice butt. Lots of muscle under that jiggle. I decided to tell her not to shower after her main bout of exercises. Let me exercise, let me treadmill three kays, and then let's get a little animal afterwards. Twice before I'd loved sliding my sweat-wet body over hers, enjoying the high scents of her and her groin, her hair, her fires. Katie Janeway can get a little funky and disgusting with her Beverly. It's allowed. Have a little enjoyable sweaty sex. Change the sheets after we shower. Better yet, let's use the portamattress. We can replicate the cover clean. Yeah. That sounds good. Or perhaps lock a few sweaty loins. We hadn't rubbed groins for a while. Throw lube on our groins and rub pussy to pussy. Work ourselves into a nice mutual passionate come. That'll work. I adored the expressions she got. Then maybe we'll use my sex chair. She'll want to love me first, it's that Dom thing, but she's allowed. Then I'll do her. With both of us more than a little boss bitch, we'd had to get accustomed to flip-flopping the Top and Bottom thing a lot. Tonight maybe watch a drama or two on the Vid. We can share one small bowl of buttery popcorn. After that we'll take us to bed. I like it that she doesn't steal the blanket at night. --- It was our first time in the "Upstairs" in Paducah together. I was in my buckskin jacket and bead-embroidered long buckskin skirt. Had a long single braid down my back. I'd do anything to disguise my least desirable attribute, my short wiry legs. Beverly was in a deep blue long-sleeved two-piece which left all of Beverly showing between breasts and pubic hair. Including an enchanting slice of upper buttocks. Bev was in Flaunt Mode. The long-sleeved top barely kept her breasts covered and told everyone when she spiked. I keep telling Bev she should consider a nice tattoo or two. I've suggested a flower growing out of her belly button, and a few butterflies around it. When you have the body of a twenty-year-old, you should want the girls to notice it. Looking about before getting something from the bar, I realized Bev and I hadn't actually expressed the thought that we had come here to pick up one, una, eine, female. Not two, or three, or four. One. We were going to do a threesome. Bev and I, we were the pair. Looking for numero trey. It was exciting as hell. I turned to whisper in Bev's ear before the next too-loud song hit our eardrums. "Just one gal for the both of us, right?" Making sure. She nodded a yes. "Any preferences?" I asked. "Female, still breathing, and cute. Or butch. Or femme. After that we'll wing it. Look around, there'll probably be something interesting here on a Friday night." We strolled towards the bar, checking out the meat rack on the way. Nothing caught my eye in the leather or plaid crowd, and Bev seemed to dismiss them in her mind as well. The pair of us got more than a little attention, though. You plop the Deerslayer and Super-Bimbo down together in your average dyke bar, and heads turn. A thin-shapely fire-hair suddenly wrinkled herself out of the small knot of dancers, lots of teeth flashing in a smile. She paralleled me, faintly moving in synch to the concussive music. She scoped me out, letting a little tongue tip show. The sides and back of her head had been shaved clean. She showed big prominent nipples through her gauzy top. Nice, not too flat-chested, with way too much make-up around the eyes. But very nice. Sharp bone structure in the face, not beautiful, no, but she had lots of wrinkles at the ends of her mouth. A smiler. I poked Bev in the arm to get her attention. She scoped the wanna-be, judging her attitude more than her looks. This other fire-hair had a lean and hungry cast to her eyes, she was definitely a thin and lusting wolf. And I had just the thing to satisfy her hunger. We did. Me and Beverly. If Bev agreed. Stranger lady's smile didn't falter when Bev made it obvious that we were a pair of book-ends. Sometimes red-heads don't mix well. Doctor Bev wasn't all that sure. She tended to be more deliberate about things. Admiral Janeway tended more to rely on her gut feelings, if that's what you wanted to call that decision making part of me that was suddenly tingly. Besides, I knew from happy experience that Bev liked something a little more generous in the chest department. I'd seen plenty of nude threederHolo's of her wife. Doctor Selar had .... impressive credentials. Mouth-watering. Still, if Bev wasn't enthusiastic .... C'est La vie. That was when another figure came storming out from the melange of dancers. Fire-hair had a partner, and she wasn't very happy about suddenly losing her girlfriend's focus. She was my size, short legs, dressy two-piece sienna and cream pants suit, large flowing breasts barely covered by her thin halter, Oriental. Clean flat face, not pretty, but it had lots of possibilities. She piqued Beverly's interest, though it took Miss Asia about four or five grumpled stares at me before she noticed the other redhead holding onto my buckskinned arm. Bev circled around behind me so that she was directly facing the little chop. Bev liked. I pulled at Bev's sleeve, then flashed her the IDIC sign. In this case making a suggestion of two and two, rather than a Vulcan salute. Bev nodded. A foursome or some variation didn't strike her as out of the question. Not the arrangement we'd come in looking for, but we were Starfleet. We could adapt. I leaned close to the redhead and held out my arms, nodding towards the dancers. Yes, she was a smiler. That's nice. The dance was unfamiliar, but who can keep up with that sort of thing? However, after a year learning to dance thanks to the Dancing Doctor, I was confident it'd only take a few moments to get the hang of it. Nice movements. No bones to speak of while dancing. Supple. Bev's little Asiatic looked like she was adapting well enough. Maybe she hadn't been thinking of sharing, but few things work out exactly as planned. After we got a little sweaty and tingly, the four of us had a very light dinner in the restaurant downstairs of the "Upstairs". We split two pita salad sandwiches between the four of us and I left a generous tip when I filched the bill. Most importantly, we got to talk with the gals without having to shout over the music. The redhead was Megan Delaney, and the oriental was Jenny. I had to explain to them why I had to laugh aloud. They'd never heard of VOYAGER, or of the ENTERPRISE. They were impressed, however, by the fact that we were both Admirals. Retired, but still.... Jenny asked if Starfleet back then was unhappy with lesbians, or whether it was something they'd acquired recently? What sort of ships did we sail back then? She made it sound as if Beverly and I had both sailed a four-decker with Hornblower against Napoleon. Feeling peeved I made a joke about Hornblower. Who they had both heard of. They were surprised to discover Hornblower was a fictional person and our Starfleet had been a little more advanced. No, we were not accustomed to sailing ships over the bounding main. Bev thought it funny. I was just a hint irked. Maybe I should abandon the gray hair, and go back to dark auburn. Keep the white-streaked temples. But appear not QUITE so old.... I got over it when Megan began kissing me over the cheap house red wine. I always did like redheads. Brunettes. Blondes. Anything still breathing. I don't sound like a tramp, do I? --- It had been an exhausting night. The glad dismay you get afterward from trying to keep up with youngsters. Someone had their arm across my belly, but only curled the other way when I lifted her off me. Nature called. I rolled out of Bev's nice big firm bed, intent on relieving the inevitable fullness. Jenny was hidden on the far side, leaving an awful lot of redhead monopolizing the center. Nice tasty redheads. My bed's dimensions were nowhere near so accommodating for four females. Three was the absolute max for my bed. I steered towards the dim almost-glow of the dumper across the hall and promptly tried to kill myself. We'd left the door slightly ajar and five large dogs and wolves had set up housekeeping in the middle of the floor. A major obstacle to someone still wuzzy from sleep and fatigue. I fell on Tatiana, but after loudly complaining at me for dropping in, on her, she forgave me. In the process we must have woken the entire population of Terre Haute. The east was just barely maybe getting lighter in the east, but as we were all awake by this time, we reached a consensus that morning was officially here. Jenny and I managed to tub together, but our best fun was watching and listening to our redheads in the shower getting each other off underneath the hot water. For asking nice and pretty, I participated in a two-in-a-tub with Jenny. It was more than a little cramped, Beverly's tub wasn't near so gigantic as mine. Yet Jenny was groaning in but a few minutes. Firecracker woman. Then Jenny got out of the tub and let me lay back while her fingers did the walking. Foursomes had their advantages. Bev had robes for all of us, and we breakfasted before getting back to the sex-a-thon. Neither Megan nor Jenny had ever seen a sex chair before. Therefore Beverly seated an old-style Risan dildo in her groin and I lay back to be the recipient of her demonstration. It's a dirty job but someone has to do it. The dildo was the Leaping Lemming. To illustrate Bev stroked me nine or ten dozen times. She said she was making sure the girls understood the nuances of using a pro-active dildo in a sex chair. I'm fairly positive they misunderstood the demonstration as being actual sex and believed what I was doing was enjoying myself. Maybe it was my screaming and cursing? We showed how you could adjust the height of the sexee or the sexer, adjust the spread of my legs in the padded racks, and lock the freely swinging front seat in place for a little comfortable snacking. Just call me Ms. Finger Food, low cholesterol variety. Or you could set the seat slightly to the side so you could be comfortable while you fisted your partner. Use way too much lube when you fisted, Beverly said. Lot of primary teacher in Bev, the way she'll explain the obvious. Since I was already in place, Jenny, Megan and Beverly all decided to practice their fisting with me. I tried not to complain. What a way to die. Practiced to death. However, as Tom Sawyer stated, you have to be absolutely sure you've learnt just exactly how to do something, or the practice was for naught. By the time the practicing was over they had to pour me out of the seat. Then it was Beverly's turn. Jenny and Megan ooohed and aaahhhed over the thirty toys Beverly had spread on a nice big terry beach blanket. Jenny innocently asked how many different dildos Beverly had, and had she ever gotten all of them used on her in the same day? In the event we didn't even come close. The Dancing Doctor was a serious collector of Risan adjuncts to a satisfactory sex life. Meaning her bedside cabinet had five drawers of dildos and whatnot which I didn't tell the girls. And I also didn't show them the bottom drawer in the upright wardrobe. I'd asked her once why she needed a woman, what with all those toys she had? She replied that she was lazy, and if she could get some cute chick to use those toys on her, why, that was preferable to doing the job herself. She was also a completest, a collector, in my opinion. When the four of us went to bed that night, it was to sleep. --- Hands above my head, cymbals clacking merrily in tune with the music, I concentrated on my image in the wall mirror. It was slow work, but I was learning. "Pause," the Dancing Doctor ordered Computer. Bev stood next to me, both of us staring into her nice big new mirror on wheels. A dancer's mirror, with an attached Barre, mostly just for me. "Think what you're seeing, Katie," she said, lifting my arms into the air again. "You're not seeing a retired Fleet Admiral in a costume, no sirree," Bev coaxed. "You're seeing Fatyama el-Ayun, a dusky skinned mysterious woman of the Nile. "A temptress without parallel, who is going to beguile and seduce every living soul in the Cafe' with her supple sensuous seductive display of pulse-stopping belly dancing. Fatyama is having an off day, but she's still the most desirable creature in Egypt and knows it. "Now let us do it from the top again. Keep those clackers going, let's try that again. From the top. "Hands in the air, bend those wrists, yeah, weave a magical spell with those hands. "Again, from the top. More doubling, more doubling, see how you can make the hand movements eye-catching and impossible to follow with the eye? "Yeah, that's you doing that. Magical, isn't it? Nothing up my sleeve, you say, but a little magic, ladies and gentlemen.... "Now, Computer, softly bring the music in, background low at first. "Roll the hips, damn it, roll them, you're not shaking your ass, you're WEAVING your hips through the air like you've got a damned machine in there.... "But not so fast. Work for slow and even at first, then you can pick up the weave, do that first, and get the pace as you go.... "Yeah, you're starting to get it...." I was absolutely astounded to see me staring out from the bod of this sexy belly-dancer. There wasn't an old mostly-naked broad cavorting in that mirror, it was a vamp intent on drawing the eyes of every living soul come to this Kasbah joint for entertainment of the erotic variety. I was the star attraction, me. I even had nice legs for a few seconds there.... --- Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, but today was when all the messages came in for Bev from her family. When she called up the first missive, from her daughter, I made to go home, but Bev stopped me. "Sit," she said, indicating the couch beside her. She kept the Holo controls, but she put her head in my lap and let me know in no uncertain terms she expected my lap to be there for her when she needed it. I hurt to remember how B'Elanna curled herself onto her wife's lap, last year on Mars. T'Pori was a dexxie, a DocVerifier Intern for the Loehenwroeck Molecular Institute on Gamow. The only one of her and Selar's kids to turn to the medical profession, albeit to the research end. I had to admit T'Pori was attractive, her Vulcan heritage showing mostly in the jet black hair and the haughty exotic cast of her bony face. Couldn't see the ears for her hair-cut. T'Pori was the one Beverly carried to term. The boys were borne by T'Pas Selar. With Wesley still never heard of again, her daughter was very special to Beverly. The human side showed in T'Pori's way of talking. Going from point to point, rather than being logical as all get out. T'Pori looked serious, and gnawed on her lip in a very human manner. There was nothing Vulcan in what she next said. "Mama...." She paused. "This Spring I am returning to Terra to see my father. "I know Jean-Luc is NOT my father, but he is .... something, somehow, close to it for my brothers. He is the closest I shall ever get to having a Father. "Mind you, I see nothing wrong and a great deal right in having you and T'Pas as my mothers, but this is something I feel I should do. "After I've seen my .... Jean-Luc, I'll come by and visit you, of course, there in Indy-yana. Without fail. "I look forward to seeing you. Mommy. Your flowers should all be in bloom by then." After the letter had closed Beverly said two words. "My baby." I thought I'd pretend I didn't see the tears roll down Beverly's face. Then I changed my mind and gently daubed them off with my finger. I felt very desolate and lonely with my lap full of Beverly. Beverly slept easily, and I accepted the pins and needles I'd have later. "I love you, Beverly," I whispered. Almost sub-vocal. She did not stir or respond for long minutes. Then I heard a small still voice come from her unmoving lips. "I know. I love you too." My turn to cry. What the hell was I going to do when Naomi returned? What the hell was I going to do if Seven of Nine, Annika Hansen, ever returned? And then there was the happily married B'Elanna Torres on Mars.... What the hell. Scarlett O'Hara said she had enough to worry about now. She'd worry tomorrow about tomorrow. We didn't get up from the couch for hours, but Bev felt better after her nap. We went upstairs and we gently held and loved and gave long drawn-out comes to each other until we went to sleep for the night. Holidays are hardest on us old broads. --- It'd be weeks before the rains stopped, so Beverly inaugurated a building program for each of us. I suggested we build a nice big hot tub for her place. Sit it in the corner between her rear and the little patio. I'd run the rental bots, and Bev would learn to work a slave servo and delineate the schmeds. Just climb into the control body and let her movements control it. We found a rental place in Muncie. They came by with everything. Servo's, schmeds, dia's, a trashmore for the fill, and four full barrels of tub, piping, fitting and finish. The rental guy stayed around long enough to be sure we could follow the instructions, then he took his big carrier skimmer and left. First off we called up a few Instruction PADDs, and decided what dimensions and style we'd build. I voted for a shallow pool on the side to go with the customary big sit-down tub. It would be altogether something where we could warm the water and lounge outside. Even in bad weather. Have a sliding, and raising and lowering cover. The cover would keep out the stray garbage when not in use, and if need be protect us when we were being decadent and debauched outdoors. Okay, so maybe it was a hair elaborate. But we should have it built in three, four days. Wrong. We had realized right off that we had to keep our hounds indoors. If they see swarms of termite-sized bots covering the ground, they'd go bonkers. They'd try to eat a few, and these bots had impacted duranium jaws. With the best of safeties they'd still hurt our doggies. When we finally did begin, the swarms of insect-sized bots looked like what the building of the pyramids must have looked like. Thousands of scurrying critters carpeted the site like a plague. Granted they were not slaves but bots, still we got the idea. We had ramps from the ground to the upper sides of our big rental trashmores, so they could dump the waste from the construction site. As soon we'd programmed procedures and protocols, those wonderfully efficient slaved mini-robots went to work. We watched fascinated as a hole in the ground was eaten into existence. It appeared magically before our very eyes. Bit by bit these thousands of slaved bots took specks of earth to the dumpster, dropped their small jaw-full in, and went back to the dig for another speck of dirt. I could imagine what Chicago and Vladivostok and Buenos Aires looked like as trillions of similar termite-bots ate their cleansing way across those radioactive pest holes. Then, following instructions, we sprayed in the tub itself. Six ten-meter deep post holes had been carved in the earth by the termite bots to act as our foundation piers. First thing we did was fill the long cavities with fefomex, then sprayed liquid tub into the hole itself. Once sprayed in, we re-set the bots to chewing out a nice almost-smooth tub. A separate small contingent, crew, of termite-bots finish-ate the sides and bottom to give a finely textured and smooth surface. Then they ate hundreds of drains and piping holes. They burrowed in deeper and deeper. Bots followed which wove in pipes and fittings. All of which terminated in the big exchange unit we'd mounted on a pemex slab. We'd sit for hours, bundled up to keep off the cold, and watched fascinated as the programmed termite bots created a large tub for us. In the end it took seven days to finish. We had to disintegrate our first effort as being too small. We were both sitting in the poured form, gauging things from the perspective of actually being seated inside it. We looked around and agreed it was not quite big enough. We needed another meter on two lengths each of the longitudinal and latitudinal axis. Well, we WANTED another meter. Our hot tub. Our decision. And all it cost was more compolodial tub mix and bot rentals. We did it all over again. Once more tiny plumbing bots chewed their way through the poured form and the ground, and created a larger tub for us, complete with installed pipes. Bev lazored in a channel for the cover to track on, then set the damned thing in backwards the first time. Eventually we had it positioned so it could slide over the tub, or be raised or lowered over it. Took the Replicator less than an hour to create clean chemically valenced water for it. After that all we needed to do was run the molecular seiver for clean fluid. We could go decades without having to create any more water for it other than to replace inevitable losses. The pump warmed the water as well as shot it through all those hundreds of carefully constructed little tiny surge ports. Tingly touchy wonderful bubbles and jets were now in our future. We'd gotten the model where we could add scent, bubbles, soap or soothing oils. Eventually the job was done and the Rental guys retrieved their bots, barrels of mix, and a dumpster of waste. We stood above the foaming lighted water and knew the moment had come to sit in our tub, warm as toast, and open our mouths for the snow coming down on our heads. Decadence rules! We both wondered how the hell people had gotten by back in the days when they had to depend on outside sources to bring water to them. Probably tainted water at that. We decided to have a dip immediately. Dirty clothes off, ignore the fact that the cold spell was going to continue and bring even more snow, and flip the cover back. Then drop our freezing bodies into the hot tub. It was heavenly. The snow became a mini-blizzard. Winter came down on our heads in the form of snowflakes the size of frogs, but all we had to do was duck ourselves and we were hot again. Underneath it was all tingly touchy wonderful bubbles and jets. We sat in our tub, warm as toast, and opened our mouths for the snow coming down from the sky. Decadence rules! We must have each come four times for the other's fingers. Our skin got pruney, but the effect of sex outside in comfort while late snow came down was not to be equaled. As it got late I plopped Bev down in the shallow pool, put on the furry green Wriggly Wonder dildo I liked to use on Bev, and showed her what the shallow pool was REALLY for. We did lots of splashing, and my back got cold from the falling snow. However, all we had to do was roll over a few times and my cold back was taken care of. We had lots of noisy sex, non-stop giggling, oodles of tickling and obscene promises in the night. Immense fun. Definitely large quantities of fun. The dogs were upset at having missed out on all the construction games. By the time we let them back into Bev's yard, there was nary a small termite bot to be seen or swallowed. Just a softly chugging circulator and warmer, and the snow coming heavily down out of the black night on a pair of randy dykes. A hot tub is a debauchery all by itself. The dogs also didn't bother lifting their heads when Bev began screaming for me, my stiff-furred wriggling dildo, and her drawn-out come. By now the dogs must have concluded the pair of us were boring as hell. And they knew that so long as we were preoccupied with our own narrow-minded concerns (sex, sex, and more sex), nothing important was going to happen. No one was going to get their ears or bellies scratched. After a pause for the re-gathering of strengths, Bev went inside to bring out a vibrating plug to insert in my rear. She was already wearing one of her many toys. She meant to let me have the business end of her Risan Crimson Avenger self-seater as it twisted and turned. Who the hell thought up all those names for the Risan sex toys? When it was my turn to scream, the dogs and wolves didn't even bother looking up. Heard that, done that, seen it all before, they must have thought. Boring, boring, boring. --- Personally I thought this swing was just another gadget. Like so many gadgets, it was not really necessary. However, Bev wanted to try it out, so here we were driving bolts into the overhead as anchors. The pattern had adhered itself to the ceiling of her bedroom, so all we had to do was put in bolts where indicated. If we'd had to use ladders like our ancestors, we'd have both killed ourselves. Even with a pair of home lift-buckets it was sweaty work. I enjoyed the burn. And it just might be fun, so I went along. In an hour we had the bolts in and we were attaching the D-clips to them. After that we had to figure out which strap connected to which clip. In the end we had a black leather sex swing hanging from the ceiling of her bedroom. Someone - you - could crawl into the seat of the thing, and then wriggle their feet into the appropriate straps, and Voila! You're open for business. Very open and ready for funny business. The bitchy part was adjusting the dozens of straps so you were at a certain height and at a certain angle. Making sure you were in optimal position for an obscene workout. Legs supported and spread wide. Your ass just exactly so high and no higher. And tilted forward a little bit so you could see what exactly was happening to you. We argued about who would inaugurate the new sex toy, and I lost. Or won, depending on your point of view. Bev helped my naked body get up into the swing, and put my feet into the stirrups. I felt somewhat helpless in this position, suddenly realizing that vulnerability was something the swing was supposed to give you. You're essentially helpless and should just lean back and enjoy what you're going to get. That glint in her eyes told me Beverly had come to the identical conclusion. I had a glint in my eye as well, I'm sure. Like I said before, we were capable of being either Top or Bottom for the other. Made for very steamy sex at times. Most times. "Beverly," I began, but she interrupted me. "Lean back and enjoy yourself, doll," she said. She gently pushed me back with the palm of her hand. "Let me do all the work. You just lie there and enjoy. Scream if you want, moan, curse, whenever you want to. "You're at my mercy, now that you're in that thing. You can't do a damned thing except relax and get that crooked smile on your face like you do when you know there's no turning back. "Relax. "Trust me. This'll be fun." She had That Look in her eye. Beverly was in Dominant Mode, and I mentally settled back to see what was going to happen. When she began by sucking on my nipples and thumbing my clit knob, I decided it was going to be fun. She turned to the bed and stripped off her clothes in tune with some Pop music. Bev was most definitely in sex mode. I expected her to put on one of her many toys, but instead she returned to me. She brought her tongue and lips and teeth with her, fingering me while she worked on my breasts. By the time I was wet enough to satisfy her high standards, she turned gentle, kissing me like a starving man given manna and nectar. I'll always be able to say Bev was a great kisser. She used all of her mouth on me, when she kissed. Alternating harsh and hard with angel's touches. Licking lips, chewing lips, sucking lips, bruising lips, enjoying the kisses she got back. While continually fiddling with my nipples and breasts and my warm puffy pussy. She never 'just' penetrated. She tried to give a passionate fondle the dimensions of a five year mission into unknown realms of the Galaxy. Touch here, investigate that, land on that spot, search deeply and burrow and penetrate. A finger or three in me was the last course of a banquet. You knew long ago what the final dish would be, and as Bev's finger entered me, I knew she meant to have me as SHE wanted. I could do nothing but moan and enjoy .... and eventually come. Somehow she was sitting on a padded stool, and she was between my wide-spread legs. She blew on my thighs, she bit them, prompting jerking's and spasms. She kissed my muscled thighs, she bit them again and again, spanking my cunt with loud slaps, she blew air into and onto my overheated groin. She nibbled on my clit, my lips, she tongue-fucked me, licked me, worked me, heated me. I knew now what she meant to do. We babbled together, she coaxed me, she encouraged me, she commanded me, she told me what to do and how hard I was going to come for her. She backed off and inserted two fingers into me. "Beverly," I begged, "the lube...." Harsh tones edged her voice. "Are you telling me what to do, Kathryn Elizabeth?" "Please,' I pleaded. "You seem wet enough," she noted. "But if you insist, I have it here, tagged to my stool." She sprayed my groin with the chilly liquid until I knew I was dripping onto her floor. She held up her hand so I could watch her cover it with glistening gooey lube. Then another application of the cold lube made me stiffen in the air as the sprayer was eased inside me and my insides were drenched with the frigid lube as it was injected inside me and on me. She rubbed her fingers on my groin and in my hair, letting it warm up to my body temperature. Then she rubbed the side of her palm vigorously in my cleft, making me jerk and stiffen in the air again. "Don't come yet, doll," she commanded. I thought my clit must be standing out like a finger, a white quivering finger, a stiff pulsing meaty sign of my approaching come. Yet all I could see at the head of my divide was the same small pearl I had always seen when I was excited. Did I mention I was already excited? Well I sure as hell was. Beverly bit hard the corded muscles of my thighs, she looked into my eyes over my curve of belly and breast, she smiled sweetly, she inserted three stiff fingers into me.... I had to..... Ccooommmeeiinnnggg! I was too ready for it, and Beverly carefully spanked my groin, like it was a child's bottom. Again and again and again, until I could have sworn my cunt blazed like a campfire. "Just keep it hot, doll, just keep it hot, it'll just be another minute," she cooed. "Keep it hot, relax, don't fight me on this, open up and...." Her entire hand slid into me in one jerky movement. I came as I felt her knuckles open me, I had to come, I had to come hard and my head snapped back and I know I screamed as my circular pussy lips convulsed over the intruding fist of my most dearest lover. I came again, it hadn't stopped, I screamed again, and her whole hand was moving inside me and she twisted it and rotated it and bunched it into a fist and tried to pull it back Which made me come again as she beat at my vagina entrance from the inside And my lips continually tried to close and open and close around her Lovely lovely fist Moving and moving and I could not scream but I Closed my eyes and shuddered and I crossed my ankles in mid-air and rubbed my clit furiously I could not help myself But have another come. I gripped her hand with mine, holding hers still, looking wide-eyed at her so calm and happy. I, on the other hand was dripping sweat and come was leaking off my ass onto the floor. Maybe this sex swing wasn't such a dumb idea as I had thought it would be. I panted and sweat and tried to catch my breath and waited for the stars in front of my eyes to disappear. Bev attempted to move her hand a little, but couldn't do it. My vagina had clamped down on her intruding fist as if it were made of duranium spring, and it wasn't about to let that lovely hand move around in me before I recovered. I heard a noise. Which prompted me to look towards the open door. A adult Vulcan male stuck his head through the doorway. "Mother?" Bev stared at what she probably knew to be one of her half-Vulcan sons. My eyes popped out of my head and dropped onto the floor. "Ooops!" he said in a very Terran tone of voice. More noises probably indicating his retreat to someplace outside the house, or at least to the back. I remembered we had the cover on the hot tub, so he wasn't liable to fall in. The dogs were all in the back yard, outside. They loudly announced their joy and agitation at a visitor. Bev and I stared at each other for a minute. Then she once more attempted to move her hand inside me. No such luck. I had clamped down good and proper, my dear, and to hell with the fact a lot of lube had been laid on and in beforehand. Well, this Vulcan was probably never going to forget how he first met Retired Admiral Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway. I certainly wasn't. I think I was blushing. Or bursting into flame, one or the other. --- continued in the sixth story in the Aide Memorie series 'Veritas'