[Reviews - 8] Printer
Table of Contents
- Text Size +
Story Notes:
  
Author's Chapter Notes:
They still belong to Paramount, though the scene was inspired by Jeri Taylor...  no copyright infringement intended.
Chakotay barely registered Kathryn's voice on the other side of the door. His mind was too full of the day's details ... the change in duty rotations, the dust-up last night in Sandrine's.

He absently shifted the bottle of Anterian cider he'd brought and stepped into her quarters.

And stopped.

It was dark. Damn near pitch black. As his eyes adjusted, he finally saw Kathryn near the window, silhouetted in starlight.

"Kathryn? Is there something wrong with the lights?"

The answer was a throaty chuckle, followed by a soft command: "Computer, lights up 40 percent. Diffused."

His mind was still trying to process the situation as the lights came up. Then all rational thought stopped.

Holy gods .. she was wearing the dress.

Not just any dress. The Dress. The one she wore into the Subu prison. As the lights warmed, he saw hints of blue, perhaps a touch of purple. Not that it mattered, he'd memorized those colors long ago. She twirled, and he marveled again at how the robe accented her figure ... especially from the back. He hadn't noticed at the time ....

"What do you think?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

"Ah...." He couldn't answer. His mouth wouldn't work. His mind wouldn't work. All he could do was hold onto the bottle like a drowning man holding a life ring. Amazing that he hadn't broken it.

His confusion amused her. She smiled wickedly as she slowly walked toward him, letting the dress sway in a most sensual way.

"You said you'd offer me a month's worth of rations if you could see this dress again," she growled, stopping just out of his reach. "Well, here it is."

He caught a whiff of her perfume then .. something floral. But it was enough to bring him back to reality, flooding away the shock and replacing it with something a bit more .. urgent.

"I suppose," he began, his voice a bit strangled, "you intend to collect."

Her blue eyes glittered as she pulled the bottle out of his hand and placed it, without looking, on the table behind her. In one deft move, she stepped toward him and slid her hands up his torso, resting them on his chest. His hands, moving of their own volition, reached to capture her waist and pull her closer.

"My dear, you are buying dinner," she whispered. "But right now, I intend to have dessert."

 

You must login (register) to review.