Space Relations Pt. 11

In the lounge, an entirely different situation was developing.

Former Commander Braxton had taken a seat before the large, multi-purpose screen that great hog of a woman had been playing video games on earlier. Using the universal remote, she scanned through the vessel's video archives, finding an old soap opera she could tolerate, barely. The disgraced officer could think of nothing better to have at her side than the cup of warm tea she'd retrieved earlier.

She'd been set to view her soap, and perhaps even enjoy it a little, when one of those detestably loud louts had come into the lounge and started ruining her experience. The Hispanic imbecile was sliding back and forth before the screen in an ugly, odd way.

"I fail to see why you have this sudden impulse to impress me with whatever it is that you're doing." Braxton hissed out imperiously. "But if you feel compelled to continue, I would be very much grateful if you were to take yourself elsewhere."

The scoundrel paused and gazed at her thoughtfully. "That move is known as the power walk. No, wait, that's wrong. The moonwalk, that's what it is. It was a very popular dance move several centuries ago. I thought you might have seen it when you were in high school."

The cretin was laughing at her, she saw. Braxton's nostrils and temper flared.

"They say that grandmothers make the best lovers." He continued to mock her. "And I find myself wondering if the same can be said for women in your age bracket; great, great, great, Neolithic Age grandmothers. You know, back in the time of the hunter-gatherers."

There was nothing she could do, Braxton knew, except glower back and take her punishment with dignity, and pray that it wouldn't last for the rest of her career. Admiral Cocksander had gotten her good this time, thanks to these incorrigible people. "I would very much like to watch this program, without your impertinence to mar it!"

As a reply, the buffoon made a short run as if he were some sort of human airplane. When he came close to where Braxton sat, he unceremoniously hopped onto her lap.

"Enough is enough!" Braxton seethed, unwilling to even bring herself to touch this vile creature that was now sitting across her thighs. "I demand that you remove yourself this instant! Haven't you humiliated me enough? You've destroyed my entire career!"

"Darling, that's not it at all." The man said, his tone all soft and gushy now. "I'm here to show you the error of your selfish ways. I'm here to help you break out of this bitter and black shell of hardened mucous you've built around yourself. I'm here to make the butterfly within you blossom and learn how to stretch out its wings."

Braxton snapped her head at him, ready to deliver another dose of venom in the man's direction, when he did an impossible thing. He darted his own head forward and pecked her on the lips.

She recoiled, leaning away from him as if she'd just realized he was a leper. "How dare you!"

"Most women I've approached this way would have said thank you, may I have another?"

Braxton's head turned, for she had a wicked reply to what most women would have said. But this man, this creature was ready for her. She'd barely opened her mouth, when he pecked her on the lips again. Braxton tried to shove him off. "Stop that!"

They wrestled over her hands for a few seconds. When she stopped trying to tear him away, he simply let her go.

"Do you even remember my name, baby?"

"I'm not your baby!"

"You're not my commander, either. Not any more. You're not some powerful deity that can rain down hate and cruelty on people that were unfortunate enough to have a lower rank than you did. You're a normal person now, just like I am. You can drop this pretense you've put up and allow yourself to remember what it was like when you had real emotions."

"Fuck you!"

"Is that a threat or a promise, granny?"

They began wrestling on the couch again. This time, her attacker ended up mounted on her lap, with his upper body pressing hard against her chest. She strained to keep her head as far away from his as possible, fearing that the man's lips would graze her flesh once more.

"You know, you could be attractive, quite possibly, if you allowed your features to soften up a bit." He said.

"I don't care if you find me attractive or not!" Braxton shot back.

"That's your biggest problem, in that you don't care enough at all." The man told her. "Nobody on this ship likes you very much. I have a very real worry that some of the crew may actually inflict some physical harm on your person. Being nice would go a long way to improving relations between you and your new crewmates."

"You people are not my crewmates!"

"I'm sorry, but until our dear admiral says otherwise, I'm afraid that you are. You haven't been with a man in some time, have you?"

"I fail to see how that's any of your business!"

The man shrugged, but he hadn't let go of her wrists this time. "It's not, really. But through your shirt, I've noticed that your breasts have perked up. Your nipples are now aroused. Your lips and cheeks are showing some reddish coloration as well."

"They are not!" Braxton denied, half expecting him to attempt to sneak another nasty kiss at her. When he didn't, she glanced down at her breasts. Through the fabric she saw that indeed, they were responding to having a man so close to her. She could only assume that her face was doing the same.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" The man asked. "Your body is reacting as any woman's body would, when it finds itself attracted to another human being. But your mind is denying it so harshly that you have failed to see it. You've become dead to your own sensuality. My name, in case you've been wondering, is Ramiro De La Cruz, but you can shorten it to plain old Cruz. I am a sex therapist, as well as a sexy therapist, if I may be so bold."

"You're an imbecile." Braxton said, although her tone wasn't as harsh as before.

"I can be." The man acknowledged with a playful chuckle. "If you'll relax your hand a bit, I'll do one last thing and then I'll leave you alone to watch your soap opera. That show was recorded years ago, so you can always rewind it and watch it from the beginning if that's what you wish."

Braxton looked into his eyes, seeking out deception or manipulation, or any of the usual negative aspects she was used to seeing in the people that worked around her. Just to see what he'd do next, she relaxed her right wrist.

"You can't lie to yourself and say that I want you for your power, because you no longer have any power." Cruz shook her left wrist, which was still apprehensive and rigid. "This one, honey. This one is the one I need."

Once the wrist was no longer defiant, Cruz stretched her left arm out. Gently, he settled her fingers down over his crotch, where she soon discovered that an erection was hiding underneath.

"You've made me hard, baby." Cruz revealed. "Not Braxton the Commander, with the glorified title and the false idea of power and authority to stand behind it, but Braxton the Woman, the real woman. Braxton, a being of flesh and blood, with real thoughts and real emotions."

"You're... You're trying to use me so you can embarrass me later."

"Am I?" Cruz tried a suave roll off her lap, only to awkwardly tumble down to the floor. He shot up to his feet. "Not quite how I wanted that to turn out, but what's done is done. Anyway, that will serve as your first lesson, free of charge. If you'd like a second consultation, please don't hesitate to pull me aside and ask. Be assured that my relationships with my clients are strictly confidential."

That done, he started away.

Braxton the Woman stood up, with all sorts of doubts and questions bombarding her mind. The former commander wasn't a much-loved woman; she was a much feared and despised one. Braxton knew it because that's how she wanted to present herself. She hadn't had a decent relationship with a man in so long that she'd given up on them. In her mind, she'd turned all men into monsters. And here was this Cruz person, who had seen right through her unfeeling façade as if he'd read her life story. She wanted to say something to him, but she didn't know how.

Cruz may have sensed this, for he turned back. They stared at one another across an expanse of about twenty feet of empty lounge. He smiled and pointed at the light dial. "You know, I can dim the lights and walk back to you, if you wish."

Braxton coldly stared back.

"Baby, that was a joke." Cruz chuckled. "But not a very effective one, I see. We may have to work on your sense of humor for our second lesson."

Still, the woman said nothing.

"Do you understand the concept of service to others, instead of service to self?" He asked. "Let's try this. If you will just walk over to me and take my hand. If you take that first step for me, what I will do for you is to take you up to my bunk and teach you the true definition of female orgasm. I am clinically licensed in this field."

Braxton turned away from him.

His mischievous side swept over him, so he started ribbing her again. "I didn't expect you would. You know what they say, about old dogs being set in their ways." He shrugged. "Perhaps you're just too old."

He was smiling as he said this, flirting with her, but her head was still turned. Finally, he frowned and gave up.

Cruz left the lounge, crossed the narrow corridor, and stepped into the dining room. The first person he saw was Thor, standing there and only wearing green and blue striped boxers. Close behind him was Mary, who was beautifully nude. Seated beside the dining table, were Cummings and Margo, both of whom were dressed in their underwear and eating toasted pumpkin seeds.

"Hi, Cruz." Mary said, buoyantly. "You're just in time. Thor here has something to say to everybody, as way of therapy. I would like Cummings to go first because he's further along in the program."

"By all means, please proceed." Cruz replied.

Behind him, Cruz heard the lounge door open. He only turned partly as Braxton crowded into the room behind him. Her eyes widened at the state of near or full nudity present in the room.

Cummings stood up and started playing with his man-boobs. "Take a look at these babies, will you? I used to weigh about one-sixty. Even when I was that skinny, these were A cups. When I gained a little weight, they got as big as they are now. I try to keep myself overweight on purpose, because my big stomach helps cover these damned things up better. I have not taken my shirt off in public ever since I was a little boy, and I have had women take a look at my man-boobs and make faces of disgust at me. If that doesn't make you feel ashamed and depressed to your core, I don't know what will.

"Cruz and Mary have taught me that it's okay to be different, and that there's nothing wrong with me if I don't want there to be. Thanks to them, I was confident enough to strip down and jump into the ring against the Worf, which pretty much saved the entire galaxy. Today, I can stand here in front of all of you without feeling embarrassed and having to wear a big, loose shirt. If my friends did that for me, Thor, I'm sure they can help you out too."

Cummings went to retake his seat, after seeing that Margo was trying to hog all the pumpkin seeds. He reached out and returned the little bowl back to the centered spot it was in before.

Thor looked nervous, despite his brawny muscles and stature. The big Viking kept casting quick glances over Cruz's shoulder at the hated Braxton.

Mary tried to console him, by caressing his bloated, muscular arm. "Ensign Braxton is part of our crew now, Thor. I'm sure she has some issues and insecurities of her own that she needs to work out. Don't see her as some kind of enemy, because she no longer is one. Look at her instead like someone who needs help, just like Cummings, and just like you, and just like Margo."

Cruz noticed the cook's reaction to the statement. The lesbian had gripped her hands into fists. The big woman soon loosened her fingers, though. If he caught that momentary flinch, he had no doubt that Mary had caught much more past that.

"Thor," Mary said. "I want you to take your time and to say what you want to when you're ready to. It doesn't have to be a long explanation either, like what Cummings said. You can just make into a short sentence, just like I coached you."

Thor nodded. After taking a deep breath, he lowered his chin to his chest and said, "My name is Bjorn Brukenfooken, and I have a small penis. My biggest fear is that a woman will reject me when she sees how small it is, because this has happened to me before a few times."

Mary hugged him from behind, and keeping true to his calling, or one of his callings anyway, Cruz stepped forward and joined in the hug, too.

Cummings, a veritable success story, tried to find a place to fit in. "Is there any way we can get Mary in the middle, because I'm not too fond of hugging a man's bare chest, and especially not a man as muscular as Thor. It makes me feel inferior, because I always unconsciously compare other men's bodies to mine."

Before the trio could start shuffling around to reposition themselves, Cruz noticed that Margo had approached the group, but was hanging back by a few feet.

He asked, "Are you going to give Thor a hug, or is your lesbian streak rearing its ugly head again?"

"Screw you, Cruz."

"I'll take you up on that."

"You wish."

"As a matter of fact, I do wish that. Very much, in fact."

Margo was still chomping up pumpkin seeds when she pushed Cruz away. She pushed Cummings and Mary away, too. Once they'd cleared some space, she pulled at the waistband of Thor's boxers and inspected his credentials.

"You know I'm a lesbian," Margo spoke up. "I'm not used to having penises on any of my partners. Well, not until I signed up for this place, anyway. So, a little one doesn't bother me all that much." She looked at the blonde giant nearly eye to eye, since she was almost as tall as he was. "I'll make you your favorite dinner if you follow me up the ladder right now."

"Back to that last bunk?" Thor asked, as his gaze took in the huge white swells of Margo's breasts.

Margo shrugged. "Either that one or my bunk. I'm not too particular about that, as long as you do it right now."

"Swedish meatballs." Thor announced.

"You'll have your meatballs, as long as I have mine first." Margo nodded. "Now get up there. Cummings, you're making your own fucking sandwich."

"A double-cross!" Cummings snapped. "I should have seen it coming!"

Margo glanced back at him with a smirk. "There's two sandwiches in the fridge. You always come in here around this time anyway and ask for one, so I made them early."

"I'll never doubt you again." Cummings hurried over to grab one. "If I ever have children, I'm be naming them all after you."

As the two biggest specimens climbed out of sight, and Cummings started to engorge himself on food, Cruz took in Mary's eye-pleasing body. "Mary, as always, you look good enough to eat."

"I've already been eaten, thank you very much." Mary disclosed. "But I wouldn't mind an additional throttling, if you're offering."

"And you shall have one, baby." Cruz grinned.

All but forgotten was Ensign Braxton, who took a few quiet steps toward the science officers and slipped her hand into Cruz's. The older woman had her head turned away when she did this.

She wasn't saying anything, so Mary read her mind, and right after, she read Cruz's mind. "Oh, no, you're not leaving me out of this one!"

"Are you trying to tell me something, baby?" Cruz asked. "Is it the time I think it is?"

"Oh, yeah!" Mary nodded. "Threesome!"

Three more bodies scrambled up the ladder.

Now, with all this action going on all over the ship, you might suspect that the bridge of the Space Relations was the most unexciting place to be, but you'd be wrong. The scene here is of Captain Washington, sitting in a most dignified manner and trying to maintain his composure. Before him, two lovely sirens were competing for his attention through the veil of interpretive dance. Barbie was swaying her curvy form back and forth, and gazing at him in a most provocative fashion. The leaner Willow was strutting about in a more animated way, lifting her arms up, stretching them out to her sides, etc. Both women paused and gazed at the captain.

"Well?" Barbie asked. "Which of us is the better dancer?"

Hoping to remain passively diplomatic, Washington replied, "You both have your own distinct style. I can't choose between you."

"Oh, wrong answer!" Barbie balked. "You're supposed to say I'm the best dancer in the world, even if my dance is me holding up one foot and hopping around in a circle. That's a big strike for you, buddy!"

"Well, I suppose I could have made a better choice," Washington admitted. "If you were dancing to a certain kind of music."

"Not disco again!" Barbie whined. "We had disco on the Neptune, on the New Century, and during the Worf War. It's time for something else!"

"Who said anything about disco?" Washington asked. "I'm ready to move on to something new as well. We drew a random list, didn't we? Whose turn is it to choose the musical genre next?"

"That would be me." Willow revealed.

"We have been needing some new music." Barbie concurred. "Because all we've had ever since Braxton came on board is a dead silence."

"I wonder how she's doing?" Washington asked.

"Who cares?" Barbie replied. "She wanted her cake so let her eat it. Ensign Willow, will you please entertain us with your choice of music so that we may continue with our dance-off?"

"I most certainly will." Willow agreed. "I did some research into where the biggest influences for our modern day electronic music came from. Surprisingly, a lot of these influences came from the era just following the disco era."

"Not more disco!"

"You might think that these two types of music would sound the same, since one type clearly evolved from the other, but they're not even close." Willow stepped over to the intercom panel on her station. "Is there anyone in the lounge?" She asked, waited for about thirty seconds for a reply, before she pushed another button. "Is there anyone in the dining area?"

Sounding like he had his mouth full, Cummings answered. "Yo!"

"Where is everybody?" Willow asked.

"Oh, they're all upstairs, bumping and humping. I'm taking a break to eat."

Washington pressed the same button on his own armrest. "Where is Ensign Braxton?"

"She's up there, too, getting busy with our two sex-perts."

"Oh." Washington was mildly shocked. "How interesting."

"Cummings, would you mind doing me a favor?" Willow requested.

"I'll do it for a lap dance." The navigator laughed. "No, I'm just kidding. I already had one earlier from Margo. Shoot."

"Can you step into the lounge and go over to the music console. Can you set the selector to Willow's Channel?"

"Oh, we're playing something new now?"

"Yes, we are. I hope you guys like it."

"Cool." Cummings said. "I'm on it."

A few minutes later, Cummings called back. "Okay, your channel is loading."

"Thanks, Cummings."

"No problem. Hey, do you guys need me up there?"

Willow glanced over at Barbie, who simply shrugged.

"Well, we're just dancing for the captain." Willow spoke into the intercom. "You can come up here and watch us if you want."

"That sounds pretty good, actually. Let me just grab a soft drink and I'm there."

Willow went back to her dance spot.

"So, tell us a little more about this music." The captain asked.

"Right after the Disco Seventies, there was an explosion of culture that was called the Big Eighties." Willow elaborated. "We had bands with big hair that played big rock. We had another sub-culture that focused on minorities and urban dance; this was the emergence of Hip-Hop. Finally, we had the sudden explosion of synthesizer music, where usually one main vocalist took the mike, and one or two people behind him made up the music with short streams of electronic tones and sound effects. This was called New Wave music, and that's what we're about to hear now."