He couldn’t keep his mind off of her, no matter what he did. Earlier this evening he practically beat Luke Ferro to a pulp in their kendo match. He’d lost count of how many chess matches he had lost to Victor. And he was beginning to wonder if you could develop distinctive calluses from all those hand jobs.
Not that she had given him any indication she was interested. She remained coolly professional at all times and in all places, and frequently, that professionalism had turned to icy rebuffs.
Still, he kept hearing her words, “we need answers, not heroes, Commander.” After all that had happened to him, why did he still remember that? It certainly gave no indication of an offer of friendship… much.
It wasn’t friendship he was looking for. No, he knew quite well that she had a brain, but that wasn’t what he was interested in. Oh, it was certainly convenient, and beneficial to Alpha. And Alpha was definitely his first priority, so on one plane of existence he was definitely glad she had a brain, and was a competent as well as caring physician. Victor was certainly an advocate of hers. He wondered if… no, that wasn’t Victor’s style. There was no evidence that she and Victor were anything more than friendly colleagues. Victor treated everyone with that Old World charm of his and most women responded to it positively. More positively than he’d ever seen Helena respond to it.
Now he was even thinking of her by her first name! He’d certainly never been invited to call her anything but Doctor, or Dr. Russell. All he could hope for at this point was that he didn’t make a complete idiot of himself, because he knew it was getting worse.
He wasn’t exactly stalking her. At least he hoped not. He’d never considered himself any kind of pervert. And so far he had resisted the temptation to watch her through the security cameras. At least most of the time. He did keep tabs on where she was, and usually that was in Medical Center, working. Although she also daily visited the gym, joining a group of women for a jazzercise class every evening. Then most of the time she returned to Medical Center before turning in. Checking on the jazzercise class became a bit of a hobby for him, but he had barely noticed who else was in the group.
She usually wore a bright red jogging bra and red gym shorts trimmed in white and gold stripes with a red sweatband on her forehead and matching wristbands. She was one of those women who didn’t sweat. She glistened. It definitely added to her allure. And he bet that if he got close enough, she wouldn’t smell bad, just warm and womanly and ready…
This certainly wasn’t helping matters any. There was no way now he could easily get up from his desk and leave the office without announcing exactly what he was thinking. And tomorrow there would be another command conference where she sat right beside him, close enough that he could sense the up and down movement of her breasts with every breath she took.
She closed the folder on her computer and logged off with a sigh. Her eyes felt scratchy and she was completely drained. She was also completely wide-awake. This was tiresome. It wasn’t the work that was getting to her. She was quite used to hard work. Out here, beyond the bounds of their solar system on a journey none had ever imagined, the problems might be different, but their resolution still required concentration, dedication and long hours.
She rubbed her eyes. Dedication and long hours were not a problem, but her concentration was certainly slipping. She had work to do and she couldn’t get her mind off of him! It wasn’t as if this had never happened to her before. She had lived through her share of infatuations, from Sparky Taylor in tenth grade to Professor Wright at that space medicine symposium last year. Both had been just as untouchable. Wright was at the symposium with his latest trophy wife, his tastes evidently ran to over-endowed and vapid brunettes. Sparky just as taken with his own girlfriend so that he didn’t even realize that Helena was alive. Neither ever knew that she thought about them with every breath she took or that they lived completely different lives in her nighttime fantasies. As John now did.
Now she was thinking about him by his first name! This would never do. Unlike Sparky or Professor Wright, with whom she had barely exchanged a dozen words each, she dealt with… Commander Koenig every day! Spoke to him, followed his instructions, offered him suggestions. What would it do to her credibility if she began to call him by his first name? Or – God forbid! – reached over and stroked his arm, as she had almost caught herself doing at their last command staff meeting.
She stood resolutely. It was time to get some sleep. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be in full control in the morning, and who knew what might happen, even in front of the rest of the command staff!
The staff meeting covered little new ground and he managed to make it through without embarrassing himself with Freudian slips, or worse. At least, he thought so. Suddenly the room was empty with the exception of Alan, who managed to slouch in one of these ungodly little molded chairs that populated Alpha.
“Man, you really need to get laid,” Alan said, grinning.
Although Victor might be John’s closest friend, there was something about a drinking buddy that allowed a completely different kind of intimacy. He and Alan had known each other since flight school. They had propositioned girls in bars for each other, and consoled each other over numerous bottles of beer when loves had been lost. They had even each thrown up all over the other’s shoes.
“I didn’t think it was that obvious.” Koenig sighed.
“Have you even noticed she has eyes?” Alan laughed. “You’re generally looking much lower than that.”
“Yes, I have noticed that she has eyes,” Koenig snapped. “They’re green.”
“Icy green. John, she had a certain reputation around here for being the original workaholic Ice Queen. You stand no chance whatsoever.”
“Never tell me the odds,” John chuckled with Alan at the old movie quote they had used on numerous occasions.
“Okay, then,” Alan challenged. “Do something about it.”
“I think she hates me.” John hoped it didn’t sound like whining, but thought it probably did.
“She probably will if you keep staring at her breasts,” Alan pointed out. “Although they are terrific eye candy.”
John glared at his friend.
“Like you’re the only one allowed to enjoy the view?” Alan laughed. He stood. “Action, mate. Maybe she goes for the powerful type. You’ll never know unless you try.”
Alan left John alone.
He could try. Maybe he should try. But he wasn’t sure what he should try. And out here, with no place for either of them to go, what would happen if it went badly? If she rebuffed him out of hand, well, he would find some way to deal with that. But what about working, and working closely, with an ex-lover? He hadn’t even tested the waters yet and he was worried about them breaking up? Maybe he shouldn’t even try.
Testing the waters. Yeah, he’d like to test those waters. He wanted to see her glistening below him and calling out his name as he found out just how wet she was. Damn, now he was needing another cold shower, and it was a long and very public walk, to his quarters.
She’d had just about enough. While David Kano droned on this morning about computer storage and the long drawn out process of creating more, her mind had wandered around the office listing the various pieces of furniture and what positions she and John could use on each. By the time he finished she had listed twelve pieces of furniture and two positions each and she was wondering the dampness she was feeling between her legs would show on these godawful beige uniform slacks.
What idiot had thought up these uniforms anyway? They were tight across the chest and hips, an absolutely horrible color and the slit skirt option screamed ‘hooker’ while the bell-bottomed pants only seemed to accentuate a woman’s figure. At least the material was thick enough that her wayward thoughts couldn’t be discerned by a glance at her tight nipples. They didn’t show through.
She had seen him again at the gym this evening, walking toward the domo room for a kendo workout while she was in the room reserved for the nightly jazzercise class. As the song ‘Hot Stuff’ blared from the speakers, Anna Davis leaned over and murmured, “Mr. Hot Shit, himself.”
At first she thought Anna meant John, but he was walking by with Luke Ferro, who had hit on Anna so often it had become a running joke. John turned toward Luke and grinned at something he said. For a brief moment his eyes met hers but they glanced away as if they were polarized magnets. Her eyes moved down his body to notice the abundant dark chest hair in the v-neck of his kendo robe. She fell out of step, but recovered as he passed from sight.
She had picked at her supper, lingering in the dining room, until she realized she was hoping for a glimpse of him. Honestly, this was worse than when she’d had that thing for Sparky Taylor in high school. She hurried through the rest of her dinner and returned to work. Then she realized that she wasn’t reading the reports in front of her, but remembering the way he smelled this morning in the staff meeting, fresh from the shower, sitting close beside her. He had shifted once during David Kano’s report and she had glanced at him. With her mind on his furniture and various erotic actions, her glance had momentarily strayed to his crotch, which looked… rather large. She smiled to herself wondering if he was just happy to see her. Then she wondered if he even knew she was a woman. Other than that one snappy comeback before they left Earth, he had treated her with a cool respect that she would insist on from anyone else, but felt offensive from him.
She wasn’t getting any work done! This was ridiculous. It was time to do something about it. How much of a fool could she really make of herself anyway? It wasn’t as if they were teenagers in high school. Surely they could be adults about this. Even if she wasn’t really his type, she was at least fairly certain he wasn’t seeing anyone else.
She left the office, returned to her quarters without seeing anyone. It was already late evening. Most people worked first shift and would be settled in to some other activity by now, either in their quarters asleep or at a movie or in the rec area. Third shift wouldn’t be stirring yet, and second shift was in full swing. She took a shower, using some of her precious perfumed body gel, and pampering herself more than usual in preparation. After drying off she selected one of those uniform skirts that she seldom used, pulled on a lacy purple bra that she was confident would be hidden by the thick uniform tunic. She slipped on her boots without stockings, leaving her legs bare. Her whole body gave a tremor as she touched her commlock to open the door to the hallway. She had deliberately neglected to don panties and combined with the unaccustomed skirt, she felt feather-light.
His quarters were in the next dormitory section and up one flight. There was still no one about, something she thanked her lucky stars for. What if he wasn’t alone? She could still turn around and go back. She wasn’t sure what scenario would be worse. He might already have another woman he was seeing discreetly. On Alpha it would have to be very discreet, or everyone would know about it. He might be with Victor, or Alan. She had the feeling that Alan Carter would know exactly why she was there, and would probably gallantly play along with her to his great amusement. Victor, on the other hand, would simply be oblivious, probably offer her tea, and chatter on about some obscure scientific point while Helena’s blood was absolutely boiling. Just what would be the most embarrassing?
She knew the answer to that. John laughing at her and sending her away would be the worst, but at least it would be over with. She could handle that. As long as it was private. This was her best shot for private embarrassment over public. Eventually she was going to slip and instead of fantasizing, she would find herself sticking her tongue in his ear while all of Main Mission watched. She licked her lips. At this point, that had a certain appeal to her. Okay, she was at the door to his quarters. It was now or never.
He was nursing a swollen cheek. Instead of a repeat of last night, where he had used up all that pent-up sexual energy to beat Luke with a stick, he had been distracted by the memory of her breasts in that red halter at the wrong moment and taken the edge of the rattan pole across his face. He was on the floor before he realized what had occurred, face guard rolling in one direction, Luke’s cane coming in too fast to stop from the other.
When the door buzzed, he was fairly certain it would be Alan, coming to rag him about his complete inability to concentrate. He didn’t even turn around, but gave a verbal command to open the door. It would be all over as soon as Alan got a look at his eye.
The door opened and closed, but Alan said nothing. He swung the chair around. To his surprise, Helena Russell stood just inside the door. For a long moment they just stared at each other, unable to say anything.
“What happened to you?” she exclaimed, moving over to him as soon as she saw the swollen welt across his cheekbone.
“I forgot to duck,” he joked.
She took his face in her hands and gently turned his head so she could better examine him. He was holding a wet washcloth in his hand. She took it from him and applied it as a compress. Her gentle fingers did more to make him relax than any drug could. On the other hand, her close proximity and skin contact between fingers and face was enough to put his southern region on red alert. His hand, resting on the arm of the chair was dangerously close to that exquisitely curved hip. It penetrated his brain that she was wearing a skirt. With just a small amount of movement, he would be able to feel the smooth skin of her bare thigh. He began to break out into a sweat.
She leaned closer and to his utter surprise, shifted her stance slightly so that his fingertips touched her skirt. His eyes strayed down her body and back up. It was the same neat package he had watched numerous times before and he was certain he would never tire of it. His eyes lingered at those beautiful breasts, held tightly in check by the uniform tunic. Her face hovered above his. He saw her eyes move away from his injury and down his body. She couldn’t fail to notice his reaction to her presence. He was wearing those blue silk pajamas that hid nothing. He watched as her eyes moved back up to meet his and a slow smile spread across her face.
It wasn’t a serious blow. He obviously caught that stick they use for Kendo on the cheekbone. His skin wasn’t cut, but she knew it must hurt like crazy. Despite his pain, despite her concern, she glanced down at that dark chest hair, then further. His fingers were brushing ever so gently against her skirt. She wondered why he hadn’t copped a feel yet? Maybe he wasn’t so inclined. Oh God! Maybe he was gay! The thought flashed through her mind at lightspeed. Just as quickly she dismissed that thought, and her eyes traveled farther down his body. Oh, no. He was interested all right.
Her hand moved from his neck down his chest. She wanted to feel his interest. She leaned just a bit closer and touched her lips to his. She couldn’t keep her tongue from reaching out to taste him. That seemed to startle him to action.
With lightening speed he reached around her. His right hand moving through the slit in her skirt to grasp the back of her thigh. His left hand reached for her breast. Before he maneuvered her onto his lap, she took the initiative. The chair was oversized, to her satisfaction. She knelt, straddling him, without breaking off the kiss. His hand against her breast left her feverish to remove the barrier of this damned tunic. She reached up for the zipper and he immediately began to help her. Settling above him, she moved her hands to his shoulders, moving back the top to his pajamas so she could place her palms against his bare skin and see his bare chest. He removed her belt, tossing it on the floor beside them and unzipped her tunic. She moved back and permitted him to pull it over her head.
He grinned as he saw her lacy purple bra. He met her eyes and without another word, both knew they had the permission they sought to turn previous fantasies into realities. One finger traced around the lace, pulling it back so her nipples showed themselves above the lace, two lovely pink rosebuds in a field of violets. He leaned forward to softly kiss, then gently taste them. She gave a soft moan and pushed insistently against his lips.
His hand moved up her thigh. He loved the feel of her smooth skin. His hand moved farther, and farther. The thigh seemed to go on forever. Then he realized. She wasn’t wearing underwear. He moaned, deep in his throat, as he realized, the only reason for the purple lace and the lack of underpants was to come to him for this very purpose!
A jolt of desire shot through him like a lightening bolt. His hand moved around to the front of her thigh and between her legs. For a second he remembered one of his fantasies, that she would be smoothly shaven and he would taste her as she sat, legs spread, on his desk.
“What do you want?” Her voice was sultry against his ear, her breath hot.
Dare he tell her? “Do you ever… have you ever… shaved there?”
Her hands were unfastening the tie at his waist and the drawstring to his pants. She laughed softly in his ear. “Feel,” she ordered.
It was as if she read his mind. Smooth skin led to smooth folds. He sighed with delight, then moaned as she freed him from his pajama slacks and stroked his length. His thumb slid along smooth skin, finding its way to her moist hollow. She was looking at him, not examining him, she certainly was not in doctor mode right now, but with a hunger and certain glee as she moved her hand up and down, swirling her fingers around the crown, then moving back down.
He leaned back with a sigh. While she stroked him, he reached up with one hand to stroke her breast. He slid the middle finger of his other hand up and down her slit and deeply inside her. She moaned and arched her back. Blonde hair flowing behind her, kneeling above him she welcomed his ministrations, looking like a warrior goddess riding her stallion off to war. Perhaps it was something about the skirt and boots.
It had been quite some time since she’d had a man inside her. It felt so good, she was practically incoherent. She was close to her peak.
“Jooohhhhnnn,” she moaned. She tugged at him, wanting him inside her. “Now!” she panted.
He moved his hand out of the way, and reached to grasp her bottom with both hands. She guided him into her and leaned forward, delivering a long and hungry kiss as he thrust into her.
He squeezed her bottom then returned one hand to her breast. She tingled all the way down to her toes and her moan of pleasure seemed to inspire him to new heights. She pressed tightly against him and broke away from the kiss, gasping for breath as her vision blurred and every nerve in her body responded to his touch.
She felt his release deep inside her as an explosion and his breathing was ragged.
She flung her arms around his neck, her cheek next to his, feeling his breath against her ear and his heartbeat against her chest. She clung to him in every way possible as they regained their equilibrium. As their breathing returned to normal she pulled back for him and they exchanged smiles.
She stood slowly and reached for her tunic.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To get some sleep.” She knew she had to head for bed before she collapsed. “You should too.”
He opened his mouth and she knew he was about to ask her to stay. She had needed this, the attraction too much to overcome any other way, but she wasn’t ready for more. She touched her fingers to his lips.
“Don’t worry. I won’t be too far away.”
“I guess not,” he said. He looked tired too, and the red welt on his cheek needed time to heal.
She readjusted her bra and pulled on the tunic, luxuriating in his gaze, no need to feel modesty. She picked up her belt and fastened it, then ran her fingers through her hair and looked to him for approval. He nodded, words not necessary. Her smile of thanks turned mischievous as she turned to go. “See you later,” she said suggestively.
“I sure hope so.” He was still glued to his chair.
He didn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed, or so alive. As she walked out the door he could almost wonder if it had actually happened or had it been another one of his fantasies. He looked down at his pajamas, still in disarray and slightly damp where she pressed against him. No, it had happened. He glanced over at the bed, wondering if he had the strength to make it to that far. Marveling at the utter miracle that had just occurred. Reveling in the memory of her soft skin and her sweet taste, both even better than what he had imagined.
“Helena?”
It was Alan Carter. He had seen which door she came out of. Her luck hadn’t held.
“Hi Alan,” she smiled coolly at him. “I suppose you heard about his eye. He said he forgot to duck, but if Luke had hit him an inch higher, he’d need an eye patch.”
Alan grinned. “I just thought I’d come by and check on him. I thought he’d try some macho stuff and try to ignore it.”
“It was hurting him,” she admitted. Then she smiled. “I gave him something for the pain and told him to get some sleep.” That was no lie. By the time they were finished, he didn’t even remember he was in pain.
“I won’t bother him, then,” Alan said, turning away.
Helena headed toward her own quarters, alibi firmly in place, thanks to Luke. John should sleep well tonight, and so should she, better than she had in a long time.
Maureen J. Long
July 21, 2002