Girl Talk, Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Exact Revenge on Commander Tucker

Summary:  Got the idea from the thread about what Trip/T'Pol meant in the "not that big a deal" scene and decided to throw together some good ole fashioned OOC fun and frivolity!  PG-13 for suggestive language!  Let me know if you want more... I could see a series of shortlets called "The Punishment Saga" emerging here.  Enjoy!

"He said that?" Hoshi was equally astonished. "Not that big a DEAL!?"

"Indeed," I replied nonchalantly.  Repeatedly stabbing and releasing a bean in the middle of the green bean casserole swimming in my meal tray served to moderate the growing tide of frustration.  Breaking the table in half would certain frighten Ensign Sato as well as the rest of the Mess Hall.

The fall of Hoshi's fork clanged against the table, bringing her dazed expression back into focus.  "You have to get back at him!" she whispered, conspiratorially leaning across the table, her eyes shifting between nearby crewmates.  Her hands were balled into fists as if the wrong had been done to her.

My momentary silence incensed her further.

"First he leaves, then he comes back, but he doesn't tell you, he makes you beg..." ticking down the list of Commander Tucker's strange and... emotionally vexing behaviors was clearly elevating Hoshi's own agitation.  My own heart rate began to accelerate as I mentally continued her list.... Then you kissed him, then he said he was already coming back, and then he said..."

"No big deal?!" Hoshi continued my unconscious rant.  I wondered momentarily at the human capacity for telepathy.

"No," Hoshi said resolutely.  "He'll pay." The anger washed from her eyes as the corners of her mouth rose slowly and maniacally.  Before she spoke, she methodically finished chewing a chunk of Chef's now-famous "Pan Peach Pie", so-named for the Diasporadic interstellar origins of its ingredients.

"We'll get him back," Hoshi declared finally. She was nodding her head slowly, now.  Her eyes glinted with a dark malevolence that not only appeared out of place on the kind young woman, but awoke a deviance and a darkness in the depths of my own heart that tempted exploration.

"He's approaching your position."  Hoshi's voice was clear, but hushed as she reported Commander Tucker moving down the corridor towards my quarters.  It was nearly 1800 hours and he would no doubt be "swaggering down the hall, quite pleased with himself as he thought about having your clothes off", as Hoshi had put it.  While I doubted the exaggerated sway of her hips as she demonstrated such a behavior, I could not help but wonder if Commander Tucker had fantasized this way while walking to our previous neuropressure sessions.  When I reminded Ensign Sato that most of them were conducted while in the Expanse, with the ship's destruction and Earth's annihilation constantly under threat, she replied simply, "Honey, men are always horny, I don't care if the bulkhead's rattling apart under his feet."

*chime* He arrives.

"T'Pol!"  As predicted by the prodigious young Ensign, Commander Tucker's higher brain functions seem interrupted by the sensory input associated with looking at me in this "getup".  Hoshi insists through my earpiece that he is "floored".

"Um... w..wow.  I guess you found a new neuropressure outfit.  Is that really... more comfortable?"

He correctly guesses that neither the black spandex "boy shorts" borrowed from Ensign Sato nor the thin, red-poly-plastic "tube top" with its dangerously plunging neckline could possibly be standard articles for performing pair neuropressure.  I quickly recalled Hoshi's "oops" face training and arched my back, stiffened my lower lip slightly and widened my eyes.  I sincerely doubted that such minor changes would make me look like a female deer or that such an association would affect the Commander's decision-making ability ("leave him speechless" was the Ensign's words).  Trip swallowed hard and my superior hearing detected an acceleration in his heartbeat.

"I apologize, Commander," I replied, arching my back as Hoshi commanded.  While her exact words were "push those puppies in his face", I assumed the command was figurative, and I stepped closer to him.  "I have other plans... I must have... forgotten to tell you."

I was certain that my charade would be discovered, as the Commander would know full well that I am not known to simply 'forget' anything.  He seemed utterly convinced, however.

"Oh, ok, well, maybe after you, I mean if you're not busy, if you're not in bed, because I mean I know you go-"  It was truly remarkable the way an incredibly intelligent man was reduced to a confused stupor by two incredibly small pieces of material.  He was soon interrupted by the chirp of the comm. panel in my quarters.  Her timing was excellent.  I stepped over to the panel and opened the line.

"Hey, T'Pol, it's Hoshi..."

"Hey Hoshi..."
"Hey, our class is about to start, are you on your way?"

"Yes, I will be there shortly."

"Cool, I'll tell Amanda to wait a minute."
"Thank you, Hoshi."

"See you, hon!"

"See you there."

I failed to see the significance in Hoshi's insistence that suddenly abandoning formal tones and titles for those of familiarity would contribute to the Commander's frustration but it was clearly working.

"I must go," I said quickly, walking to the door.  He followed me out.

"Alright, well," he said, running a hand through his hair nervously.  The flair and confidence with which he usually performed this mannerism was conspicuously replaced with anxiety. "Lemme know if you wanna' do somethin' later," he muttered, turning away before I could respond.

"You are confident that this is actually necessary?" I asked Ensign Sato.

"Absolutely - he won't be able to resist.  First he'll check the signup roster for the room, and then he'll no doubt need to check the internal security feed just to be sure."

"Will he not require Lieutenant Reed's authorization to check internal security footage?"

Ensign Sato and Corporal Cole stood on the plush, rubber mats of the fitness center's multipurpose room and laughed hysterically.

"T'Pol," the Corporal said, "I wouldn't be surprised if they're both up there gawkin."

"Or will be," Sato laughed.  "So don't look up at the cameras," she said giggling.

"Alright, ladies... are we ready to get started?" Amanda asked with a coy smile.  She strode with surprising grace on the powerful, muscular legs that stuck out of her thin, elastic "biker shorts" over to a tall, golden post.

"This, T'Pol, is your pole."

"No way."  Malcolm was as skeptical as I, but his voice trembled with giddy anticipation and I couldn't blame him.

"That's what it says, man..." I said, pointing at the schedule.

"You're telling me that T'Pol, Hoshi, and Corporal Cole are all signed up for a class... on Aerobic Pole-Dancing?  That Corporal Cole is teaching aerobic pole dancing!"

"Ah'm just lookin' at the same piece a paper you are, Mal," I replied, shaking my head.

"You know," Malcolm said, pinching his chin as he thought aloud. "We could pull up the security cameras... just to be sure."

"Mal..."

"I mean if they're lying to screw with you, doesn't that fall under some kind of misappropriation of ship's resources?"

"MAL..."

"I'm just saying take a peek, not stand there and oggle them like..."

"MAL!" he finally stopped talking and followed my eyes to the trio of women and the sextet of tiny, strained patches of cloth divided in two's between them.  As T'Pol approached between the MACO and the communications officer, a thin layer of perspiration on glimmered and pronounced the muscular lines of her legs, abdomen and arms into directional beacons that all seemed to point underneath one piece of clothing or another.  The tight scoop of her abdomen plunged in a V that I could only imagine stood for, "very, very irresistible."

"Commander, Lieutenant," they seemed to nod in unison as they passed.  I turned and looked and Malcolm, and vainly hoped I hadn't looked as retarded he as did.