A Temporal Shiver

Drisana paced the promenade nervously. Three weeks ago, she had been on Earth enjoying a simple walk through the northern Utah mountain side. She never could have planned on what happened next. On her way back down the mountain side, a sudden overwhelming dizziness overcame her, followed by the feeling of being pulled in a direction she never even knew existed. Then, she blacked out. When she came to, she was in a large metal holding cell, dimly lit except for some reddish lighting that seemed to come from the floor and ceiling, but no light source could be immediately seen. She was interrogated by humans-or people who at least looked human, as well as by some beings she never ever dreamt existed.

It took her interrogators a solid week by her count to realize she did not have a translator implant, and another week for her to get adjusted to it enough to understand what was said to her. The questions once she could understand them were fairly basic, and once they realized she was not a threat, that she had in fact been pulled through a temporal anomaly, they released her and gave her own quarters and a small stipend of money until she could figure out what to do with her life as she would never be allowed to go back, even if she could-she had seen too much and could change the timeline.

Not only had the temporal anomaly take her more than four hundred years into the future, but it had pulled her to a section of space that in her day was not even known to exist. She had landed at a space station on the end of the Gamma quadrant called Deep Space Nine, or DS9 for short. It wasn't long before the entire space station knew about her, if not her name.

The humans and bajorans on the station tried to be as friendly towards her as possible, but she could sense the guardedness in which they talked to her, that the friendliness was fake. Drisana had never felt so alone in her life. It was during one of these depressing self-reflections of her new life; sitting in a small bar called Quark's that was run by a Ferengi bartender that she finally connected with someone in a most unexpected way.

As she sat at the bar counter, sipping at a light beverage they called synthohol that she happened to overhear a rather interesting and intelligent debate between the merits of two races; Human, and one she had never heard of before-Cardassian.

She turned to look at this hot bed of debate and saw Doctor Julian Bashir, whom she had met once or twice during her interrogation and whom had given her the translator implant needed for communication...and the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on. He was certainly not human but to her eyes he was so much better than human it did not matter. Turning so it wouldn't appear that she was staring she listened surreptitiously to the conversation they were having and discovered he was a Cardassian, exiled to this space station and that he owned his own business as the station's number one Tailor.

Later that night in her quarters Drisana dreamt of the attractive Cardassian. Wondering what it would feel like to run her fingers along his elongated neck, down the scaled ridges that ran along the sides of it, or perhaps over the light ridges that made up his eye brows and the light plating over his nose bridge. She started awake from her dream, half engulfed in the passionate sensuality of the dream and half laughing at herself, for being so insane. For all she knew, human females could disgust him.

Still, she did clearly hear he was an exile from his own people, completely alone. While she did wonder what had caused his exile, she was more interested in knowing how he spent his time, wondering if he might just be as lonely as she was.

Pacing her quarters the rest of the night, Drisana decided she would pay a call to his Shoppe first thing in the morning. She had finally decided she had nothing to lose by his rejection, and if nothing else, might end up with what she would consider her first real friend aboard the station. Unable to sleep any further, Drisana prepared a bathe and some very light perfume and laid out her best clothes.

She thought visiting him first thing in the morning might give them a chance to talk before most of his actual business showed up. She looked forward to getting to know the handsome, exiled Cardassian Tailor, no matter what direction the conversation took.

Garak sighed deeply as he slowly opened his eyes and peered at his old-fashioned digital clock above his bed. Another glorious day of being bound alone to this insipid station, complete with fake smiles and courtesies for his customers all the while slowly dying inside from utter loneliness, a feeling he would rarely admit even to himself for fear of sinking into a depression nothing could shake him out of. Pulling himself out of bed and slowly stretching his long neck he headed for the shower and to ready himself for yet another day as the station's Tailor. Considering he had once been a top spy for the Obsidian Order and an Assassin of considerable talents (though admittedly hidden behind a disguise of being a gardener), he considered this to be without a doubt the bottom rung of his now pathetic existence. Yet, he was in fact an excellent Tailor and did take some small measure of pride, of condolence from that fact.

Garak had just barely unlocked the doors of his business when the familiar buzz of a customer crossing the threshold sounded. Emerging from the back room with his fake smile in place he was about to put on his usual act until he looked at her. He did not know her name, but he did know her background as did the rest of the station. Garak slowed his approach. He had seen her sitting alone in the bar yesterday. He had also longed to join her, but his luncheons with Julian had become such a tradition he didn't feel it right to break it, not with the only person who had gone out of his way to make any sort of friendship with him. He hated to admit it but those luncheons were one of the few things that kept him able to go on living in his five years of exile that he had thus far endured.

What caused him to slow was not that he had seen her before, but rather what seeing her had done to him that night. Garak had been plagued with sensual and sexual dreams of this human female to the point he awoke half-way through the night to discovered he had soiled his sheets with his own male essence in the passions of his dreams, a problem he had not had since first become a full adult male more than twenty years ago.

He was about to introduce himself, but she spoke first. Her voice was deeper than most human females, but still very feminine with a smoky almost sultry quality to it that made his member jump a bit of its own accord-which he dearly hoped she did not notice as she spoke.

"My name is Drisana. I am sure you know all about me. Everyone on this station seems to know how I got here. I . . . Well, I was at the bar yesterday and could not help but overhear the conversation between you and Doctor Julian. I um . . . I thought you made some excellent points. I...I'm sorry, I must sound insane but I was wondering if you would mind having dinner with me tonight? I don't really know anyone and the few I've met seem to think I'm fragile or cursed or something-but from the conversation I overheard, I thought well, that you might be different. The truth is I am lonely and could use the company. So....if I haven't totally scared you off with my bluntness, would you consider it? "Drisana rushed the words out, barely pausing to catch her breathe. To her ears, she sounded exactly like she felt-nervous and desperate. She also knew if she were in his shoes she would say no and get out of my store any second. She wouldn't blame him either. You think spending half the night rehearsing this speech she could have come up with a few better lines!

Garak swallowed hard. Here was the woman who, dreaming of her alone was enough to get him to orgasm. Here was that same woman asking him to have dinner with her. Him! A Cardassian and an exile at that! He could hardly believe his luck and when he tried to answer her found he had to swallow three or four times before his vocal cords would work properly. His body however had no problem in acting on its own accord. Before he even knew he had done it, he had crossed the distance between them and very gently grasped both her hands in his own. He looked deeply into her dark brown eyes with his own vividly blue ones before finally managing to say in a half-choked voice "I would be honored-what time?"

Drisana could hardly believe her ears-he had accepted! Not only that but he was holding her hands, which she couldn't help but squeeze back just a little in return. "1700 hours sound okay?"

Garak nodded and once again hoped his male urges would go unnoticed by her when he felt her squeeze his hands. Finally, after forcing himself to release her, he asked "By the way-where shall I meet you?"

Drisana blushed-how could she of overlooked such an important detail? "How about we meet for drinks on the promenade, just outside Quark's place? I'd love to hear some of those interesting conversations you have with the good doctor- Or about them, anyway. By the way-I never did catch your name. Shall I ask around or will you tell me?" She grinned in what she hoped would be taken as a light tease. But she really did crave to know his name more than anything else.

Now it was Garak's turn to feel embarrassed-of all the things he never forgot to do, introducing himself was at the top. That he had managed to forget to do this simple thing that he did every day was almost too much for him. "My name is Elim Garak. But everyone just calls me Garak. You however can call me as you wish." He grinned at her in what he hoped would be interpreted in a flirtatious way and was well rewarded by her slight cheek blush. Drisana smiled back "Garak it is then. I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your friends." She then turned and walked, rather hurriedly, out of his Shoppe.

Garak walked back to his counter and leaned against it for a moment. His whole body was tingling and his palms sweated, not to mention his well-endowed member was standing at full attention. He hurried to his back room to relieve himself as quickly as possible. Not out of pleasure but simply so he could go on with business. It would hardly do his business any good for a customer to see him in such a state of extremely impassioned masculinity.

Drisana walked to the promenade and sat by a fountain, splashing its cool, crisp water over her face and on the back of her neck. She had managed to secure a date-one date, with Garak. There was no good reason to feel such infatuation with the Tailor . . . at least not yet. They had barely had one conversation. Still, she looked forward to dinner with Garak in a way that she had not looked forward to anything, past or present, in years.

What she could not foresee was how Garak was feeling at the same moment, that this was the first time in his five years of exile that he actually felt any sort of true happiness-even to the point of being happy he was trapped on this station even if it meant being a lowly tailor for the rest of his life if it also meant being trapped together with the very sort of woman he had always dreamed of having, a woman he could only ever dream would show any interest in him at all.

Garak was going to take no chances on this date. He planned to close his Shoppe early and bribed the Ferengi owner, Quark, well to help ensure everything went well. There was a private table on the third floor of the bar, and a lineup of the best drinks of human preference. Garak even went so far as to ensure instrumental music that had hidden within it highly exotic and sexual subliminal messages playing during the entire dinner. He even ensured her food was made from scratch-no replicator cuisine mishaps would do.

In the meantime, he read her profile from the security office. Illegal of course, but worth the risk in his opinion just to find out her every like and dislike. He wanted nothing more than to give her the most pleasurable night she had ever had.

Drisana...her name drifted throughout his mind all day and into the evening. The time was drawing near for his date with her. Still, he could not help day dreaming of her and the mixed pleasures he hoped to share with her eventually, the two of them becoming as one. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to pleasure himself to the thoughts of her-middle of the work day or not. He was relieved when he closed his Shoppe early and went to change into something more suitable, even choosing musky cologne to wear along his lower neck ridges, having read she loved the smell of a now extinct plant called Patchouli but whose oil could still be replicated. He hoped she would enjoy it.

All Garak could think of as he changed his attire was of her-he wanted her, and not as a one night stand. He wanted her forever. He even day dreamed of her helping him in his Shoppe-what would be their Shoppe. Even children, different ages, some looking like him, others more like her. He was sick from loneliness and felt only she could ever fill his need for companionship.

Garak knew he could help her too-he could employ her, that would give them time together, to work together and perhaps play together when business was slow-the back room was there, after all. More than that-he could love her; he could offer her his total loyalty and devotion. He had never felt this way about any female, Cardassian or otherwise, in his life.

All he had to do to make his dream reality was to win her heart. It became Garak's goal from that point forward. He would have her.

The time approached and he left his quarters, dressed to the nines and smelling lightly of the musky scent of patchouli oil. Soon, very soon, he would be having dinner with the most beautiful woman in the world.

Oh, how the other occupants of the bar would stare at him. Garak, the exiled Cardassian, having dinner not just with a female which would shock them all enough, but with a human female and not any human female at that but the first and only one to ever transverse a temporal anomaly without a vessel and also what was probably the most beautiful human female on the station. Or so he thought of her at least.

Garak thought of her form.

Drisana was about six feet tall barefoot, tall for a female of her species, but he liked that. It meant he wouldn't have to bend to kiss her every time he wished to show her affection. She was also heavier than the other human females. Not fat, but thickly built. Large thighs and a round solid rear, a small waist and decent sized breasts that were naturally perky (no detail of her chest or thighs had gone unnoticed by his perceptive glacier blue eyes). She had what used to be called an Amazonian build and an hourglass shape. He found he loved the combination. It suited him.

Drisana was strong yet feminine, tall and graceful in her walk and above all carried her head high-her long neck almost reminded him of a Cardassian female, minus the ridges. Her skin was pale moon white, so pale it almost glowed and her hair was long, a deep brownish red and done in a very old style that matched the rest of her perfectly.

She had worn on her visit to him a simple black t-shirt as they had been called, black thick cotton jeans, a black leather belt with silver studs, and black lace up boots. Her outfit was almost military but the almost too-tight t-shirt, showing the firmness of her breasts as it did, give away her civilian disposition. As he made his way to the promenade, he prayed-though he wasn't sure to whom or why he felt the need to do so. All he knew was his prayer was sincere. "Drisana" Garak prayed, "Let me love you."

* * * * * * * *

Garak was delighted to see her waiting for him near the fountain of the promenade before Quark's establishment. So nervous he was not even sure he could stomach a single bite of the dinner, he forced himself to walk casually towards her. Drisana smelled him before she saw him; her back was turned to him, but that familiar scent of patchouli drew her attention-and was delighted to see whom it was coming from. Garak was dressed in what she would call a tunic cut top, black with a gold trim at the throat in a rectangular pattern. His pants were of the same soft yet firm material, black with small pleats that ran vertically all the way down and black boots with thick, solid rubber heels. Drisana had, in other words, never seen a more well-dressed or attractive man in her life...and she was about to have dinner with him.

Drisana dearly wished she had had something better to wear, something to match his regalia. All she could manage was a silk purple tank top and a short black skirt with knee-length black leather boots. She didn't have much in the way of a wardrobe yet so she had hoped this would suffice.

She felt completely out-classed by his outfit but, reminding herself of his profession, decided not to try and compete with him on that aspect and merely hoped he would find it acceptable. Garak, on the other hand-could not take his eyes off of her legs or the tops of her breasts as he approached her. Try as he might to look her in the eyes, to not betray his lust for her his eyes wandered continuously to the bare skin of her thighs and the vertical V-neck slope of her sleeveless tank top that somehow seemed to make her skin glow of its own accord. Swallowing again, he extended his arm to her as he had watched many humans males do to their dates. "Shall we enter?" He tried to sound as casual as possible, not wanting to overpower her or frighten her away from him.

Drisana nodded, accepting his arm and together, they walked into Quark's bar. Just as Garak had expected, the bar all but fell silent at the sight of them, of the fact she was walking with her arm entwined in his. Drisana on the other hand just kept wondering if her outfit was breaking some Bajoran law she hadn't been told of and hoped it wouldn't cause any trouble. She was glad when he led the way to a private table on the third floor landing of the bar.

She didn't like the staring glances of the patrons, thinking they were judging her. Drisana had no idea that the real reason they stared was because of her choice of company. The bribe Garak had given Quark paid off splendidly-the drinks arrived almost once they were seated. The first thing Garak had ordered for her was a Sumerian sunset-a crystal clear drink -or so it appeared-she had brought it to her lips and was about to taste it when he stopped her, placing his hand gently over its top and lowering it a bit from her mouth. "Watch" he said, and with a fingertip, flicked the glass rim lightly, making the sound ring beautifully. The liquid in the glass changed colors-exactly like watching a miniature sunset-reds, oranges, pinks, even a hint of blue.

Once it settled down to a solid orange Garak took his hand away and motioned for her to drink it. Drisana sipped at it slowly, more mesmerized by the beauty of the drink than its taste-which while good, was nothing compared to its visual effect. Drisana gazed at Garak after finishing the last drop of it. "That was very good. I think I like it for its beauty more though." She smiled at him, unabashedly. She was right-Garak was great company. She could tell he had gone to a lot of trouble for her, and wanted to show she appreciated it.

Garak could not contain himself. He tried to at first, swallowing his drink as she did, making light conversation, showing her how to properly enjoy a Sumerian sunset...but when she smiled at him like that his physical impulse overrode any reasoning he had, any reservations about not rushing this. Looking back at her smile, he did not smile-but looked deeply into her eyes and very subtly, very gently, placed his hand upon her bare left thigh and held it there.