there was born the founding father of the Paris family dynasty named
Eugene Owen Paris the First. My great-great--I forget how many
greats---Grandfather who decreed that every male child of the Paris
Dynasty would bear the name Eugene. Unfortunately, for those of us who
have to bear it," he muttered discontentedly in a quick aside.
"Having no head for business and no skills whatsoever, Eugene the
First made his fortune by letting himself be shot into space as a
so-called pilot in experimental ships that were basically
computer-controlled. Since he wasn't *entirely* stupid, he made sure
he held important patents for certain applications stemming from the
test flights he made. Having accumulated vast wealth and power,
Eugene, that wise old patriarch, decided that the only possible career
path his descendants should be allowed to follow would be one that led
them into space exploration."
Paris waggled his eyebrows significantly. "*Deep space* exploration,
if at all possible. This allowed him to be a great social benefactor
by helping to reduce the surplus population in the Terran System, and
had the added benefit of keeping his beloved family members thousands
of light-years away from himself and, of course, his fortune as
well..."
Malista was caught up in his outrageous story, listening with
fascination, a smile teasing at her lips and lighting her emerald
eyes. Sometimes she envied Tom his ability to charm and entertain.
"How many generations is this story going to cover before we get to
your role?" Kim asked quizzically, pretending to look at his
chronometer.
"Harry, Harry, Harry! You interrupted the flow!" Paris rebuked. "This
recitation is like an epic poem. It can't be stopped and started. Now
I have to begin again from the beginning." He made it sound like a
chore, but one which he would welcome as his duty to his family honor.
"No, thank you," Torres said firmly. She placed the fingers of one
hand over his lips for emphasis.
The Crown Prince and Heir Apparent of the Paris Dynasty endeavored to
look aggrieved.
"I'd like to hear it, Tom," Malista said kindly, patting his hand.
"No, she wouldn't," Harry contradicted. "She's just being polite."
Malista frowned reproachfully at Kim. He grinned at her and reclaimed
her hand, tugging it away from Tom's and kissing it before clasping it
between his own palms.
His purpose accomplished, Paris was content to let the matter drop.
For the most part. He kissed Torres' hand as he captured it in his
own. "Maybe we should form our own club?"
"What kind of club?" Harry asked.
"A club for people with lousy fathers. Harry, we don't want you to
feel excluded so we'll make you an honorary member. You can be our
token person with a *normal* childhood." He ignored Harry's snicker.
"Now for a name," Tom rubbed his chin as he contemplated his choices.
"How about the Sorry Sires Society?"
Malista tried not to wince.
"The Fraternity of Foul Fathers? Or should it be Federation---Naw,
that sounds way too official."
Torres shut her eyes, sighed, and shook her head.
"Despicable Dads Dynasty?"
Harry grabbed his throat and pretended to choke.
"Pathetic Papas Party!"
The trio groaned in unison. "You're getting worse," B'Elanna moaned.
"Isn't there any way to get you to give up on this?"
"One way," Paris replied, leering at her cheerfully.
"Later, Helmboy! If I'm not mistaken, and I never am, the four of us
should be at the circus practicing right now." Torres stood and pulled
him up. "Let's go get changed. We'll meet you in---oh, about fifteen
minutes." She started pulling Tom toward the door.
"Fifteen minutes?" Harry called. "You two getting slower in your old
age?" Malista simply smiled.
Torres and Paris each smirked as they left Sandrine's. In fact, it was
they seemed inordinately smug and self-satisfied when they did so.
************************
Harry looked up from the padd in his hand to give his eyes a rest. So
he rested them on Malista, who was sitting at the other end of the
couch, her back angled into the corner of the couch as she
concentrated fiercely on the padd in her own hand. He could tell she
was concentrating because the pink tip of her tongue had made its
appearance in the left corner of her mouth. He must have made some
sound of amusement because she looked up. "What?"
He crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out sideways.
She tossed a pillow at him. "You! Don't make fun of me. The doctor is
already threatening to do some kind of case study. He calls it
aberrant behavior."
"Aberrant? If he wants to study aberrant behavior, he should talk to
Chell. Or Ensign Golwat," Kim scoffed.
She grinned. "I don't think their behavior is clinically defined as
aberrant for Bolians. Just for humans."
"Better he than me," the ensign replied, thinking of a particular bit
of scandal concerning Chell and his love life with Golwat that was
making the rounds of the ship. "What are you reading?"
"First aid procedures for humans. It's hard going from a
two-dimensional drawing to a three-dimensional model. I'm having a
hard time visualizing what the instructions mean. Maybe I should go to
the holodeck and create a holocharacter to practice on?" she asked
doubtfully.
"You don't have to do that. Use me."
"What?" She stared at him blankly.
He set his padd down on the end table and stretched out on the couch.
"Use me. I volunteer to be your practice partner. I'm tired of reading
anyway."
"Harry, do you know what you're letting yourself in for?" she asked
timidly.
"No. What?" He didn't seem deterred by her question.
"You get to be a body."
"Well, that works out. I've got a body," he replied genially.
Shaking her head, she came to kneel on the floor next to him. "I mean
a dead one---or almost dead. I'm trying to learn to do cardiopulmonary
resuscitation manually."
"Manually? Why? Why not just use a cardiostimulator?"
"Harry," she said with exaggerated patience, doing an admirable
impression of the Holographic Doctor, "there might not be a
cardiostimulator available. What if we were stranded somewhere without
access to a medkit or sickbay? The doctor says a good field medic
should not be dependent on technology, but be prepared to treat
patients in any situation, no matter how primitive."
He made a face, looking properly abashed by the reprimand.
She giggled and stroked his cheek affectionately. "I asked exactly the
same thing."
He shook his fist at her.
She kissed it.
His eyes lit. He reached out to pull her closer.
She pushed him flat on the couch again. "Stay still." She consulted
the padd, reading intently. "Now, pretend you're unconscious."
He obediently closed his eyes and began to snore---loudly.
&n
bsp; She thumped his arm lightly. "I said unconscious---not sleeping."
"Sorry." He didn't sound sorry, and he stifled a smile, but he did
stop snoring.
She put the padd down and placed her right hand on his chest. She
began feeling around his rib cage. When she strayed too far down his
side, he started to laugh. "You're tickling."
"Harry!"
"Okay, okay. What are you looking for?"
"I'm supposed to find the tip of the xiphoid."
Kim opened one brown eye and peered up at her. "The what?"
She gingerly poked his sternum. "I think that's it. It would be easier
to tell if you weren't wearing this lumpy shirt." Her fingers traced
the raised pattern of the material.
"It's not a *lumpy shirt*," he protested indignantly. "It's a genuine
embossed Tarkalian tunic!"
She wrinkled her nose at him. "Trust me, Harry, it's lumpy. And to
tell the truth---" she paused, considering her words.
"What?" The glint of humor in his dark eyes encouraged her to go on.
"It's ugly," she replied rapidly, carefully watching for his response
to her daring.
"It's what?!" His eyebrows flew up exaggeratedly. He couldn't believe
she'd said that. It was one of his favorite shirts. It was
comfortable. It was---unique.
"It's ugly," she repeated flatly. "That color's not good on you. It
makes you look---sallow."
Harry gazed down at the brownish yellow-green material. "It does? I
didn't know that. Tom gave it to me, you know."
She sighed. "No wonder. It would look even worse on him. Forget the
shirt. I shouldn't have mentioned it. I didn't mean to hurt your
feelings."
Harry's feelings weren't hurt. In fact, he was pleased she felt
comfortable enough to tell him the truth. For a change, she wasn't
telling him what she thought he wanted to hear. They were making
progress. Maybe it was time to step up their level of physical
intimacy. Just a small step? Tom had advised him to push---just a
little.
"Well, if the shirt is in the way---" He sat up and pulled it off over
his head then tossed it onto the back of the couch. He stretched out
again, carefully not noticing Malista's wide-eyed stare. "Okay,
Malista---find the---whatever you were looking for. The 'lumpy shirt'
is out of the way." He closed his eyes and waited.
She gulped. She'd never seen Harry half-naked before. In all their
physical encounters, all their clothing had stayed in place---more or
less. And the lights were on full illumination!
She hesitated. But then curiosity and longing blended together and
gave her the courage to experiment.
She placed her fingers gingerly on his collarbone and trailed them
down over his smooth, muscular chest, stopping for a moment to explore
the shape of his well-defined pectoral muscles. She was fascinated by
his warmth. The warmth emanating from his skin seemed to send a wave
of heat through every pore of her own body. Harry was striving to keep
his breathing regular and even.
Her palms fluttered lightly over his ribs and skimmed back up to his
sternum enjoying the tactile pleasure of smooth golden brown skin over
hard muscle. One hand lightly circled his left nipple which stiffened
responsively. Harry bit back a moan as her other hand found his belly
button and a fingertip caressed the rim before dipping inside. "You
have an innie," she whispered.
"Mm-hmmm," was as coherent a reply as he could manage. He was
fighting the urge to---he was fighting all kinds of urges! This was
the first step to intimacy. Letting her explore, to get comfortable
with his body. He didn't think Malista was ready for anything
more---not now.
But gods, this was killing him. He hadn't thought lying still could be
such an effort. He couldn't restrain a low moan as her hand lightly
traced a pattern of sensation down the center of his chest. It almost
seemed to burn everywhere she touched---and some places she didn't.
His moan startled Malista and she jumped back to reality.
Cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Right.
"Sorry, Harry. I took a little detour." Her voice sounded strange in
her own ears.
"I don't mind," he said, sounding slightly choked. "You have wonderful
hands."
She pulled her wonderful hands away from their fond exploration of his
body and forced her mind back to her purpose. She located the xiphoid
easily now and measured the two finger widths to find the correct
location for the heart massage. Getting off the floor, she knelt next
to him on the couch and put her hands and arms in the proper position.
She pushed gently on his chest. "Five compressions to each lung
inflation," she said under her breath.
"Lung inflation?" Harry queried, opening his eyes to watch her. She
looked so studious as she concentrated. He wanted to kiss the little
frown between her eyebrows until it disappeared, then work his way
down...
"Mouth to mouth resuscitation," she said. She pushed down four more
times. "Close your eyes. You're not supposed to be conscious---or even
breathing, for that matter."
"Yes, ma'am." He shut his eyes and forced his muscles to loosen.
She placed her hand under the nape of his neck and tilted his head
back, muttering the instructions to herself as she did so. "Airway
opened." She pinched his nose with her fingers and placed her lips
over his. She pretended to blow. After a few more rehearsals, she was
sure she had the process memorized correctly. She was about to tell
Harry so, when his arm snaked around her and he pulled her down atop
him. Caught off balance, she sprawled across his body and wound up
nose to nose with him.
"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.
"You just saved my life," he said, smiling up at her tenderly. "I have
to find some way to thank you."
She wriggled, trying to get enough purchase to sit up away from him.
It didn't work. It had a different effect altogether. On both of them.
Unaware of making a conscious decision, his arms tightened around her.
She stopped moving. Beneath her, she could feel every heated,
hard---and hardening---muscular inch of his body pressed firmly along
the length of hers. Her breath caught as she fell into the dark eyes
that mesmerized her so easily.
She wasn't sure where this was leading, but she trusted him. She
slowly settled into his hold, allowing him to mold her against him as
if she were made of molten wax.
He tugged on the nape of her neck and brought her lips down closer to
his. "Turnabout is fair play. Let me give *you* some mouth to mouth,
Malista. "
When he finally released her lips to nibble at her neck and jaw, she
whispered, "Harry, I don't think that kind of mouth to mouth is what
the doctor had in mind. But I like it." Her giggle caught on a gasp as
his hands cupped her behind and pulled her more tightly against him.
She blushed and dropped her face into the curve of his neck, torn
between excitement and shy misgiving.
"Um-hmm,
" he murmured, finding her earlobe and worrying it gently with
his teeth. She moaned as she felt his warm breath tickle her ear. It
was an effort to remember to breathe herself as she felt that warmth
course throughout her body. Her blood felt superheated as a blush
seemed to sweep her from head to toe.
One hand stroked up her back, finding its way beneath the hem of her
shirt, tugging it upward till it caught under her arms. That strong,
silken touch caressed the smooth satiny skin on her back as her bare
stomach rested against his. Her hands were kneading and stroking his
shoulders and neck as she gave herself over to the purely physical
pleasure of skin against skin, rubbing her cheek against his upper
body, feeling his hands exploring the curves and contours of her body.
He kissed her again. She felt lightheaded. His fingers slid under the
waistband of her shorts....
And she stiffened in alarm, her breath catching in her throat.
He stopped his movements, leaving his hands in place as she lifted her
head to face him. "Harry." She made a visible effort to relax, but he
could still see the remnants of panic and resistance in her green
eyes. She dipped her head down and tried to kiss him again.