Poker Interrupted

Laska, perhaps, was deliberately distracting her fellow Klingon's attention from the human in the room. It didn't matter too much yet, but it might be helpful later on. Halvorsen did not appreciate being eyed up by anyone, but the first officer would have been low on her list even if she did. She managed to make a small smile in reply, grateful for what little protection she might gain.

The male Klingon did not seem too disappointed when he lost the following hand, his own armour going to lie behind his chair. He flexed his arms, making his broad chest muscles ripple beneath the black undershirt, his bearded face grinning. He was certainly coming round to the appeal of the game, thought Halvorsen, who couldn't agree with that perspective.

Adjur lost next, becoming the final member of the group to take off her boots. So far, thought the security officer as she looked at the hand Laska had just dealt her, it was even between everyone. By the looks of what she was holding now, that looked set to continue. But, she realised, with a sudden leap of hope, that was all she needed. Two more defeats for her, and she would still be holding onto her treasured modesty, while two more defeats for the male Klingon would mean that the game would be over.

One could only hope that that was the way it would be. She had a chance to get out of this yet.

So resigned was she to having to remove her socks - fortunately no great sacrifice - that she didn't even notice Laska's hand until Rel'kor let out a bark of delight, and gave a little punch into the air. It was she, not Halvorsen, that had just lost the round. The human set her jaw, trying to ignore the first officer as he edged forward in his seat, as if that would somehow give him a better view. Disgusting.

Laska stood up once more, and even the human couldn't help but notice how the fabric of her shirt seemed to be positively bursting with the strain of holding her upper body in. The dark Klingon woman ran her hands around the waistband of her trousers, even running a thumb along the inside, before apparently changing her mind.

She pulled the shirt up, bunching it beneath her ample bosom, revealing a muscular six-pack better defined than that of many human men. She held the position for a moment, looking down at her male colleague, white teeth flashing another grin, "I'm still going to beat you, you know," she said.

"I don't think so. Now stop stalling."

Laska didn't reply to that, and instead, with a few final tugs, eased the shirt up onto her shoulders, and pulled it over her head. Her bra was made of something that looked like thin leather, although it might have been a mock effect. It was cut surprisingly low, with a design that emphasised her impressive cleavage more than it offered protection. Although, the security officer reflected, either Klingons were built differently than human women, or it had some serious under-wiring for support.

Rel'kor clapped his hands in glee, Halvorsen doing her best not to give him a disgusted look as he did so, and flexed his hands again. "Now we're getting somewhere," he observed.

"Ah, but you are wearing as little as I. We cannot say yet who will win this battle."

"Perhaps," said Adjur, glancing between the pair of them, "before too long, we shall. Your deal, Lieutenant Halvorsen."

The human's luck continued to hold, as the captain lost the next hand. Instead of standing, she simply reached her hands up to her neck, and unclipped a leather band holding a triangular metal gorget in place. It went on top of her gloves as Adjur revealed the bare skin of... her neck. It was becoming apparent that she had started out wearing rather more items than anyone else, but nobody, of course, dared say a thing. If anything, Laska seemed amused, and Rel'kor was having difficulty dragging his gaze away from the bust of the Amazon sitting opposite him, and so barely seemed to notice.

Although he might, Halvorsen supposed, be grateful that there wasn't anything much that he could notice yet...

The human's socks were next to go, to, it seemed, nobody's great interest. The bare metal of the floor plating was warmer beneath her toes than she might have expected, but she could not help reflecting that she could afford to lose only once more. She had no real desire to see Rel'kor dressed only in his underwear, but she prayed that something like that would happen soon, and release her from this constant worry.

Her luck, however, had ended. For the second time in a row, she failed to develop a hand, while everyone else had at least a pair. She did not even stand as she removed her black-and-gold jacket in the least provocative manner she could manage, hanging it over the back of her chair. With it went her comm badge, useless here in its own right, perhaps, but bearing the symbol of Starfleet, as well as her rank pips.

She was so proud of that uniform that taking off the jacket had been a harder moment than she had anticipated. She had done it on the Tarantula before, of course, when facing Murakh, but this was different in so many ways.

Fortunately, only Adjur seemed to really be watching her, dark eyes like gimlets as always, unfathomable thoughts passing beneath them. The Starfleet officer could not afford to lose again, and she wished that was some tactic she could employ to boost her chances, but beyond the minimal possibilities of the draw, there was nothing.

She picked up the hand the captain had just dealt her. So long as... no, no, no, no! How could she get such a bad hand for the third time in a row? She couldn't believe it, especially when the draw turned up nothing. She felt a cold sweat break out on her brow, and a sinking feeling in her stomach as she showed the cards to the others. This couldn't be happening!

Rel'kor turned over a pair of threes. Even that had her beat, although he didn't particularly seem to have noticed, judging from the scowl on his face. With Laska also ahead of her, that left just Adjur. The Klingon woman paused for a while, contemplating her cards, making everyone wait. Then, finally, she put them down.

"No hand," she said, and Halvorsen's heart leapt for a split second, "high Ace, though." Dark eyes flicked towards the human, but she needed to say nothing.

Silently, she stood. She tried to think of something to say, some excuse, but she knew there wasn't one. In all her years as a security officer, nothing had made her this nervous. She clenched and unclenched her hands, the eyes of the other two women on her. Laska leaned forward slightly, and the human noted that Rel'Kor was the only one not looking at her; if he had any interest in what lay beneath Starfleet clothing, it evidently paled compared to his interest in Laska's increasingly visible cleavage.

Lieutenant Halvorsen undid her trousers, and dropped them to the floor. She knew that her vest was not quite long enough to prevent the others seeing a flash of white knickers above her long, pale, athletic thighs, and she felt a blush creeping to her cheeks as she stepped out of the clothing, and sat down again as quickly as possible.

She had failed in her objective at the start of this game, and tried not to fidget as she clenched her legs together beneath the table. The game was perverse... the Federation should ban it. She should have said so at the outset, no matter the consequence, but it was too late now. Even Lugmilla, she suspected, wouldn't have expected that she'd actually go through with it. Now she had only herself to blame.

She dragged her attention back to the game as Laska placed another set of cards before her. Surely this couldn't go on much longer? And this time? A pair of twos! Let her have some luck in the draw for once...

Thankfully, she did, and was able to display the resulting three twos with something like relief. It didn't even need to be a winning hand to let her keep what remained of her modesty, but as it turned out, it was - only the second time she'd won in the whole of the game so far.

"Well," said Adjur, displaying her own hand, "my turn again." She stood, before adding, "an interesting game, Lieutenant, for all its lack of violence. It tells us something about humans, I am sure."

This time, it seemed, even the captain had run out of minor 'garments' to remove, and carefully began undoing a series of straps on her tight leather jacket. Halvorsen could see there was some armour plate discretely sewn into it, although it looked light, and was perhaps present more for the sake of Klingon decency than for any really protective value. Armour was of little use against phasers, after all, and, with her small frame, speed and agility would likely be Adjur's main assets in hand-to-hand combat.

The captain was wearing a sleeveless brown cloth vest beneath the jacket, tucked tightly into the top of her leather trousers. Even so, Rel'kor avoided looking in her direction, although whether out of deference or out of desire to continue looking at Laska's more obvious assets was hard to tell.

Focussed as she was on the discomfort of sitting with little more than a vest to cover her own body, Halvorsen none the less almost sighed with relief when Rel'kor lost the next hand. The Klingon lost no opportunity to show off as he removed his vest, revealing a muscular and hairy chest.

"It actually feels better to be out of these clothes," he observed with a grin, as he sat down again, "As I'm sure you'll agree, Laska."

"As soon as those trousers come off, you've lost," the medic told him, "I can still afford to lose mine."

"Which you will!"

"Ha! Do you think?"

"I'm a superior officer, I know these things," he said, apparently half-seriously, "two or three more deals, and you'll be standing there wearing nothing but your knickers."

"We won't know," pointed out Adjur, "until you deal, Rel'kor. It is your turn."

"Of course, captain," he said, although he did not look particularly chastened.

Still leering, and evidently filled with thoughts of a topless Laska, the Klingon dealt out the cards for what might, just possibly, be the final time. Halvorsen certainly hoped so.

But then her heart sank as she turned over her cards. A hopeless hand. Again! She had being doing all right to begin with, but of late, everything seemed to be turning against her. Rel'kor grunted angrily at his cards, and Laska smiled at hers. Adjur, as ever, was unreadable. Not, Halvorsen reflected, that she had too much to worry about at this stage, being clearly in the lead with little of the game remaining.

"Three cards," said the captain.

"One card," said Laska, with a smirk. She shrugged when she looked at the one she had received. "You are going down, Rel'kor," she said, "by which I mean, your trousers are."

Not necessarily, thought Halvorsen, wondering if the two had even remembered that there was anyone else in the game. Even so, she managed to keep a steady voice as she reluctantly said "four cards." Laska would surely win this hand, with whatever she had, but the real battle was in not being last. The draw had just given the Starfleet lieutenant an ace, which was something, but without any pairs, she could only hope that it would be enough.

The first officer replaced three of his cards, grunting with evident dissatisfaction at what he had received. He looked across at Laska and then, for one of the few times in the game, at the solitary human. "Maybe not," he said noncommittally, before pulling his gaze back to the usual focus of his attention.

"Pair of aces," said Adjur. So not her, this round.

"Two pair, nines and sevens."

There was silence for a little while, everyone still.

"Your turn, Lieutenant," said Adjur, and she realised she had forgotten to turn her cards over.

She did so quickly, not trusting herself to say anything. High ace. Lousy. But, on the other hand, it wasn't impossible that Rel'kor had something worse, and if he did...

"Pair of fours."

Halvorsen felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. This was the moment of humiliation she had dreaded all evening, and possibly just a forerunner to one that was even greater. Yet, now that she actually faced it, it wasn't humiliating at all. The whole game, really, was just the luck of the draw, with but minor elements of gambling and calculation. It wasn't her fault that she had ended up where she was.

Yes, she represented Starfleet, and had a hard time imagining a worse advert for them than this. But that also meant she was proud, and noble, and brave. If she could face the Borg without flinching, surely she could face this? Let the Klingons see honour in action.

The lieutenant stood, although she did not really need to, holding her chin up, and standing stiffly to attention for a second. Then she lifted the hem of her vest, and pulled it up and over her head, dropping it down beside her trousers. She remained standing for a moment, in plain white bra and knickers, noting with detachment that all three of the others were watching her, feeling the warm air of the room on the pale skin of her bare stomach and back, her shoulders, arms, and thighs.

Then she sat down again, calm, yet conscious of the way her slow deep breathing was moving her chest. Rel'kor had already lost interest, and she grasped fully for the first time that he was no more interested in aliens than she was. Adjur was actually smiling, a small smile to be sure, but, it seemed, a real one. She rather thought that the captain approved of the way she had just handled that.

"Your deal, Rel'kor," said the captain.

So this was it. The odds were fifty-fifty that the game would end right here, and it couldn't possibly go on for longer than another four hands.

"Commander Rel'kor," she said out loud, feeling that odd sense of detachment again, "it seems that it may well be between you and me. May the best woman win."

Laska snorted with amusement as Rel'kor shuffled the cards.

The mood was suddenly broken by a loud beeping sound.

Everyone was still for a moment, and then Laska bent down to remove something from her discarded clothing. "Yes?" she said, speaking into it. "I see. In that case, I will be right with you." She looked up at the others, "it seems I have a medical emergency. Some rather overzealous duelling, and we really don't want to be without our best beam weapons officer."

"Of course," said Adjur, leaning back in her chair, "do as you have to. Disappointing, but still. It would have been interesting to see how this turned out, but, as the evening has now ended, Rel'kor, go and see what you can do. There may be a disciplinary offence, here."

The first officer ground his teeth in frustration, his face like thunder, before copping a last glance at Laska's ample assets as she pulled her shirt back on again. "Of course, captain," he said, "although I can't promise that you will have only one patient tonight, Laska."

"However, we still have some of the drink," continued Adjur, "so perhaps you could stay for a little while, Lieutenant? I apologise for the disruption, of course, but so be it. Oh, and Rel'kor?"

"Captain?" he paused at the door, his hand already over the control.

"You might want to your shirt back on, at least."

-***-

Laska wondered how she was going to break it to Rel'Kor without the first officer becoming violent. When the Captain had first suggested the idea, her plan had been to make the 'interruption' rather more subtle. But now Rel'Kor thought that there had been a real disruption to the crew's performance, and she could tell from his expression that he was even more annoyed by what had apparently happened than she had suspected.

She had, it seemed, overdone both the details of the fake call and her seductive behaviour during the game itself. Distracting him from the pale-skinned human woman, Halvorsen, had been even easier than she had expected, and he seemed to have become quite fixated on Laska herself.

Which hadn't been the plan. Except... now that she thought about it, was it such a bad thing? A delicious possibility rose to her mind, unbidden. If there was one way to break the news to a fuming Rel'Kor that she had just lied to him (under Captain's orders, but still...) then surely it would be to give him what he wanted?

After all, he hadn't looked that bad with his shirt off...

"I need something from my room," she told him.

"What?" He scowled, growling out the question. "Why?"

"I just do. Medical matters."

He snorted angrily. "Very well. Whatever. I will meet you in the sick bay."

"I'll need you to carry some of it."

"What? Seriously? What the baQa' have you left in your room?"

But she was already half way down the corridor, and declined to answer. With a huff, he followed her, feet clanging heavily on the deck plating. A junior officer hurriedly ducked out of the way as they approached, evidently not wishing to be caught anywhere nearby.

Finally, they reached the door to her cabin, and she jabbed the door open, stepped inside, and span around to face Rel'Kor. She grabbed onto his loose armoured jacket and heaved, yanking him off his feet and into the room. Another pirouette and she slammed him up against the wall beside the door, hitting it hard enough to raise a considerable bang.

Instinctively, he reached for a dagger, but the next instant she was pressed up against him, pressing her mouth against his, a passionate kiss with tongues and teeth. He was frozen with surprise for a few seconds, but then re-sheathed his knife and thumped the door control so that it slid shut, closing them both in.

"I lied," she said, pulling herself away from him, forcefully pulling his jacket down around his shoulders, "there's no medical emergency. Nothing happened."

"Uh..." he looked confused, heavy brows creased in puzzlement.

"I could see you liked what she saw," she took a step back, and threw off her own armour, "do you really think I didn't too?" Her hands pushed up inside his shirt, running over his muscular belly. "I don't know if you could wait, but I know I couldn't."

He growled again, but this time with a lusty rumble, before pulling her back to him and pulling up her own shirt. They tussled, arms grabbing at clothing and flesh, teeth nipping at lips, necks, and shoulders. Soon, both their shirts were off, and Rel'Kor grabbed for the fastening of her bra.

Instead of letting him do that, she ducked, crouching down on her knees, reaching for his remaining clothes. He growled with approval, shifting his hips away from the wall, making it easier for her. With a sudden move, she yanked his trousers and shorts down around his knees, baring his crotch.

According to the medical texts Laska had read, Klingon males were better endowed than those of almost any other humanoid species. She had no idea whether that was really true, or just boasting on the part of the authors, as seemed entirely plausible. Whatever the truth of the matter, she did know, as much from experience as from the text books, that the average erect Klingon penis measured about 18 centimetres in length.

Rel'Kor, it seemed, was well above average.

She slid her hand along his length, rubbing the prominent ridges against her fingers, before gripping the head and giving it a tight squeeze, to Rel'Kor's evident enjoyment. She moved her hand back down to the base, where a thick hatch of hair surrounded the hard carapace of his scrotum, before pulling his cock down slightly so that she could slip its tip between her lips.

The first officer let out a groan of satisfaction, gripping her shaven head with one hand as the other clenched and unclenched against the wall. His hips began to move, forcing his length further into her mouth, her tongue greedily feeling out the ridges on his shaft. She looked up, to see his eyes fixed on hers, a hunger burning in them that had little to do with affection, but much to do with raw animal desire.