Vulcan Research

T'Baia sat on her couch, watching the day's first sunlight touch the Golden Gate Bridge. Her legs were tucked up in the lotus position; she was experimenting with Buddhist meditation techniques in her role as alien sociologist. The apartment was luxurious, thanks to an Earth entrepreneur eager to cultivate Vulcan business who offered prime locations to house the Vulcan Mission's temporary personnel. The Vulcan mission in San Francisco was overflowing with personnel, and accepting the supplemental housing was logical. T'Baia had done nothing to personalize it, not even moving the furniture around.

Sunrise was so different here, she thought. A sense of wonder crept past her mental discipline, and she savored it while keeping it at a distance from her logical mind.

The communicator sounded a single chime, and she went over to the console to answer it. The face of the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth, Soval, appeared. "Apologies for disturbing you. Your lack of clothing indicates you were involved with some activity."

"I find it illogical to wear clothing in my private quarters provided the climate control provides a comfortable temperature. Other than times of extreme cold temperatures, clothes purely a social convention only necessary when encountering individuals who are adversely affected by nudity."

"Logical." The ambassador's right eyebrow arched a little, and T'Baia saw a distant twinkle in his eye: his focus had been distracted by her lean form, long legs, and ample bosom. Her body proportions were considered aesthetically perfect by the Vulcan Cultural institute, and her unusually dark skin caught the attention of many Vulcan males as they approached pon farr. She could tell her superior was fighting his self control, and glad his mate was due to visit him soon. "I must speak to you on behalf of the Vulcan Science Institute about a project you proposed two years ago."

"So I assume I will not be accompanying the human's first lengthy expedition into space?"

"No. T'Pol has been chosen; her particular background and training indicated she was the most qualified for this enterprise."

T'Baia blinked once. "I understand the logic of her choice, however I thought her psychological history would factor against her appointment, since she had a nervous breakdown necessitating her departure from the security service."

"It was decided the training would be a necessary advantage for the mission in spite of this fact. You were a good candidate, a logical choice, and because of this you have been given a grant to go forward with your proposed study of human sexuality."

A small thrill ran up her spine, but she suppressed it. "It was one proposal of many I made. For what reason has this one been approved?"

"The High Command is interested in as much depth of human studies as we can achieve as they begin entering space beyond their own solar system. At this time, we are giving them limited resources in the expectation we can control their progress, or failing that, better learn their nature in case they become our adversaries. It has been less than a century since first mutual contact, and our knowledge of them is severely lacking. Others are studying the ethical and technological development of the human race; you are tasked with understanding a key aspect of their cultural and psychological nature."

"Humans do place a greater emphasis on sexual expression than any race we have encountered. Their lack of disciplined emotions induce much illogical and self destructive behavior, which makes them perilous companions on any journey."

"Agreed. Understanding this subject will help us understand them much better. You will be given access to T'Pol's reports so you can see how sexual motivations color her relationships aboard her vessel; however you are to do as much field research as you can in addition to historical study. It was decided your physical appearance would be most appealing to humans, making you the best choice for this project. You may enlist Kirsh from the Embassy staff to assist you at need."

"Understood. His intellect, experience and attributes will be most useful. I will begin this study immediately. How often do you want reports?"

"I think you need give me nothing until you have your final report ready. I am quite occupied with diplomacy with this arrogant race, and it takes all my attention."

"Very good. Peace and long life."

"Live long and prosper."

A parting glance from Soval indicated a hint of desire in his mind, and a distant part of her mind was proud she could stimulate that. Vulcans, however, were disciplined in their emotions, and these feelings she pushed aside so she could begin her work.

The entire day was spent studying historical documents. Her reading of Masters and Johnson caused a little quiver to run through her body, as did her survey of Kinsey's work. There were innumerable popular sources to be skimmed, and videos to watch. The diversity of human sexual expression amazed her, and there were even depictions of intercourse between humans and Vulcans. All were fake; every time the actor was obviously human and behaved in very non-Vulcan ways. Vulcan sexual expression tended to be very logical: aesthetically pleasing and purposeful, but relatively brief with relatively little preparation and rarer post-coital sentimentality.

Vulcans rarely had sex with someone beside their appointed mate, however when her chosen spouse, Korlok, reached his first pon farr, she fought him off as her own champion, the first Vulcan woman to do so, and had been free of him for a decade. No other Vulcan presented themselves as a logical choice to be her partner, so taking an active part in her own research was not outside the limits of Vulcan morality.

A hypothesis formed in her mind, and in the mid-afternoon she decided on her first field exercise. There was no danger for her: human pathogens shared in mating activities posed no threat to Vulcans, and similarly Vulcan pathogens had been shown incapable of infecting humans. The Fishermen's Wharf area was a typical venue for informal socialization by humans seeking intercourse, so it would be a good place to begin. She booked a simple room at a hotel near it, and prepared herself.

Jim Kirk was hanging out with his buddies at a bar near Fishermen's Wharf. They'd just gotten back from a prospecting expedition to Neptune's moons, restless and desperate for anyone else's company. It was early, the weather unusually warm for San Francisco, and the skies miraculously clear. He was a strong man, capable of digging mine himself, with brown hair, blue eyes, strong features and the smooth skin of a man in his early twenties. He sat at the bar with his buddy Red, a large man with a shock of curly red hair, freckles, and a frequent laugh. They wore ordinary tunics and trousers, glad to be out of their working clothes and uniforms. Their friends were playing games in another part of the bar. "Not many girls out yet," Red said.

"Yeah," Jim responded. "We'll have to wait a while. Don't get too loaded, remember girls don't like to get hit on by guys too drunk to stand."

Red downed a full beer and smiled. "Skinny guys like you have to worry about drinking too much. Sons of the old sod with some meat on their bones don't have that problem. My liver's in top shape; I passed my astrophysics test after a night in my home pub."

"Right, and it's a miracle the Irish never conquered the world. Or should I say the universe, since we're getting deeper into space every day."

"The Irish will conquer the universe someday, and don't you forget it. There's a bunch of monks in Cork already collecting donations to build their own interstellar monastery."

"Shit, really?"

"Yeah. St. Brendan lives again. Here's to the lads." He lifted a fresh mug in a toast; Jim clinked it with the whiskey sour he was sipping, and watched as his friend sent it straight down his throat.

Jim shook his head. If the Irish hadn't gotten any farther than this by the year 2151, he had little hope they would go much farther.

A woman entered the bar, pausing at the doorway to look around and drawing stares. She was a Vulcan, a rare sight even after nearly a century of contact, and looked nothing like either the men had seen before. Tall with chocolate skin, piercing eyes, long dark hair with bangs cut in a straight line across her forehead, muscled legs exposed to just below the crotch by a short blue dress whose neckline revealing two plush mounds. Jim and Red's jaws dropped immediately, and Red shook his head to make sure what he was seeing was real. "Damn, didn't know Vulcans could look like that!"

Jim closed his mouth. "What the hell's she doing here? I didn't think alcohol affected them. Among other things."

"Dunno. Sweet Mother of Mercy, I've love to tap that."

"No question."

The quiet T'Baia induced with her arrival dissipated as she walked into the room. She took a table at the back, and started surveying the room with a cool gaze. Since she was doing nothing to call attention to herself, people resumed their conversations with each other. Jim and Red split up, circulated around the room to chat with several members of the opposite sex, but having no luck. Music started, and several couples got on the floor to dance. No one asked the Vulcan, and she sat unnaturally straight in her chair, eyes darting from couple to couple on the dance floor, and she murmured into a palm device from time to time.

The hours slid by, and the men returned to their initial places, having failed to get anyone else to talk with them for more than a sentence or two. A cricket match was playing on the video above the bar; Red watched it with great interest while Jim looked at it out of sheer boredom. Around 10 o'clock, Jim turned to find the Vulcan woman standing next to him, as if she materialized out of thin air. "Good evening, sir," she began. "Would you be interested in helping with a scientific study?"

He shook his head, looked at the match, and looked down again. "Ah, I don't know. Maybe." A gold chain around her neck had a curious pendant that drew his attention to her cleavage. Some deep inside him wanted to keep this conversation going. "Ah, what's your name?"

"Well, my full name is unpronounceable by humans, but part of it is T'Baia."

"I'm Jim Kirk, of the Interplanetary Mining Corporation. My friend here is Sean O'Flanaghan, and he's interested in science sometimes. Probably not tonight, I think."

"Oh, I would be interested in his participation as well."

Jim punched Red on the arm, making him wince. Looking around ruefully, he groused: "Shit, man. What'ya do that for?"

"Somebody wants to talk to us."

Red turned, saw the Vulcan and did a double take. "Yes. Whatever it is. Whatever you want me to do. Yes is the answer."

Jim punched him again. "What company or whatever do you work for?"

"The Vulcan Institute of Galactic Sociology. I'm doing some research into the human race, for the benefit of mutual understanding and cooperation. This is my identification." She produced an identity card from her cleavage.

"I've got some ideas we can cooperate on..." Red leered.

Jim pushed him aside. "Ah, we might have a little time to talk with you. Do you want us to come by your office tomorrow?"

"Not necessary; I have a temporary lodging near here..."

"Better and better..." Red interrupted.

"...and I don't believe this will take more than an hour of your time."

Jim looked at her eyes and saw no emotion. Her tone of voice was flat, unreadable, and her body language was graceful yet controlled. Red was almost drooling, slicking back his hair and trying to make sure his tunic was hanging straight on his body. 'Nothing going on here' he thought to himself. "All right, we'll take part in your study."

"Excellent. I would like to interview you one at a time, and if Mr. O'Flanaghan would like to be first, I am content with that provided you are."

"Sure," they both said in unison. Red looked over his shoulder, grinning like a maniac as he followed her out, and gave Jim the thumbs up sign. Jim shivered a little and went back to his drink.

Almost 45 minutes went by before Red returned, looking slightly disheveled with a small smile that seemed painted on his face. He held out an access card, "Room 4515, Genesis Hostel. Unbelievable, I can't tell you."

Jim took it and regarded his friend, who seemed to be relaxed, energized, tired and manic at the same time. Red sat on the stool and motioned for another drink, staring at nothing and almost too relaxed to sit upright.

The Genesis Hostel was a rather plain place, designed for those looking for cheap lodging. No one paid attention as he walked through the lobby and entered the turbo lift, and the hallway was one long series of doors on two sides. A knock drew an immediate response; and as he entered, he saw T'Baia was adjusting the right side of her dress, settling it on her right shoulder, the toenails of her bare feet were unpainted. "Please come in."

Jim walked to sit on the couch. The room was simple, with just a writing table, video station, two chairs and a bed in addition to the couch he was sitting on. The view was a brick wall three feet away.

T'Baia knelt in front of him, sitting on her heels, and held up her palm device. "Please state your full name, Jim, and your census number."

"James Marcus Aurelius Kirk, number 907663412. From Riverside, Iowa."

"How old are you in Terran years?"

"23"

"Your employer?"

"Interplanetary Mining Corporation; I'm an excavation specialist."

"Partnership status?"

"Single."

"Sexual preference?"

"Female."

"Mr. Kirk, I am conducting a study of human sexuality. May I ask what your favorite sexual activity is?"

"Ah, I'll try just about anything. Been cooped up in a spaceship for eighteen months, so I'm game for..."

"That was not my question. Given a choice, which sexual activity would you prefer to engage in?"

Jim squeezed his hands together, palm to palm, and started tapping his foot. "This a confidential survey?"

"Of course."

He looked back and forth. "I like blowjobs."

"That is what?"

"Oral sex. Receiving oral sex. Well, giving it too sometimes, just to play fair...but I really love getting head."

"Curious. Studies have shown many men prefer this activity. When was the last time...?"

"Two years ago. Last time I had a girlfriend."

T'Baia tapped a few notes into her device, and he looked at her. He could see down the top of her dress: the exotic shade of her skin made the curves of her breasts especially attractive. It was loose enough he could see a crescent of her right nipple; it was almost talking to him. His cock began to swell, and he crossed his legs to try to hide it from her. She continued, "I find it interesting human males seem to prefer non- reproductive activities. Your friend said anal sex was his favorite."

"Well, I've always thought..."

"No, he is not homosexual in any way. It was a fascinating experience, something no Vulcan would ever be interested in. Definitely worth the discomfort."

"You mean you...?"

"I perceive your penis is now growing, no doubt facilitated by the shape of my body, and the topic of our conversation. Yes, your friend performed anal sex with my cooperation. Would you be willing to engage in an experiment with me?"

"Ah, yes?"

"I will give you oral sex, monitoring your reactions. To do this I will need access to your conscious thoughts. It will do you no harm, as your friend could testify."

"Huh?"

She sat up and put her right hand on his left temple. "Come close to me, James Kirk, let me in." When she touched his mind, he recoiled at first, but her calm thoughts made him feel safe and he let her make the level of contact she wanted. Her mind perceived his growing lust, thoughts she had felt three times before in her life, and subtly encouraged it. Checking her own thoughts and feelings, her boundaries were in place: he would have less access to her thoughts than she would his, provided she kept her discipline. One more moment of probing, and she knew what to do.

Standing up, T'Baia smiled at Jim, reaching up to slip the top of the dress off her shoulders. Her nipples hardened immediately when they popped into view, and responding to his thought, she leaned over for him to kiss them. Waves of electricity flowed over her as his tongue played over her delicate bits, her response joining his desire shared in the mind-meld. His tongue danced on her skin: part of her consciousness stepped back to observe, making mental notes she would remember later. It was surprising how much her own emotions were being tapped, another curiosity to analyze. She shared her pleasure at his stimulation, which encouraged him more.

A quick probe of his consciousness, and she knew what he wanted next. Kneeling before him, she undid his trousers and pulled his semi-rigid member out. She touched it with her lips and drew an overwhelming response, which made him hard and his testicles tingle. Her tongue came out of her mouth, and she licked around the end; he shivered and his knees buckled a little, his mind was slipping away from voluntary thought and losing itself in sensations.

Sensations it would be, then. It was as though she were sitting at an ancient computer, buttons laid out in front of her, blinking at her. She took the head of his cock in her mouth, feeling the rush he experience at that feeling, and sucked it gently. His mind was like a whirlpool, and she rode above it with hers. Her tongue felt along the ridges of his penis, and let his response guide her. His biological responses were an open book to her: increased heart wave, brain wave activity, blood pressure changes, collection of seminal fluid in his genitals.

Probing his memories of past sexual encounters, she found many images: a hay wagon on a sultry summer night, a parked car with fogged windows on a lonely country road, a closet in a college dormitory, endless videos of different sex acts while masturbating in his darkened personal quarters, a circle of men masturbating to a hologram projection in zero gravity, a weekend with a redheaded woman in a Starfleet uniform. All of them led him to greater excitement, and she brought them forward for him, reminding him of the past while stimulating him in the present.

She gave him images and feelings his friend Red shared with her. Red had leapt on top of her at the first opportunity, disrobing her, pawing her body, and penetrating her anus within two minutes. Her mental discipline pushed the pain aside; he needed no encouragement to spear her forcefully for five minutes before ejaculating in her colon. He could barely answer her follow up questions before he regained his senses, pulled up his pants, and almost ran out of the room.

Jim put his hands on her head, caressing it and tracing her earlobes with his fingers. It was the most stimulating thing he could have done to arouse her, something he'd gathered from her mind. The amount of self control she had amazed him, how she kept her rising lust in check while focusing on the task at hand. Discovering his power over her, he kept on working her earlobes, challenging her self-control until his own started to wilt.

As his cock hardened, his control wilted; T'Baia's tongue was doing things to him beyond his wildest dreams. His balls were tingling, and she brought her hand up to play with them, making them tingle more. She had the advantage of feeling his every response to her stimulation: her tongue always seemed to be in the right spot doing the right thing. Soon, he couldn't hold back any longer: he filled her mouth, moaning and gasping, leaving his mind fully open to her scrutiny. Any secret he had was in clear view, which meant it was good he wasn't cleared for official secrets. All he could think about was the wonderful mountaintop feeling he was having.