A Pineapple

Posted on Tue Aug 15th, 2023 @ 6:59pm by Lieutenant JG Aimee House of Back & Ensign Dramin

2,109 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Mission 4 - Like a Thunderbolt
Location: Mel's Cabaret
Timeline: MD-10? IDK.

ON:
Aimee made her way from her quarters to Dramin's. It was weird to be on a station of THIS size, and still be in regulation quarters. Some people on Starbases had luxury apartments and some even had HOUSES! Still. She was just a junior officer, and a lowly Lab Tech, at that.

She was dressed for a fun date night. She had suggested going together to the Cabaret on the Promenade. So today, she wore something a little dressier. A black lace dress with a nude colored lining, to make it look like she was nude underneath, and some high HIGH heels. She wore her hair down, but curled a little. With that was some makeup, crystal earrings, and a traditional necklace her mother had given her when she'd turned 16 and became a "real warriorress" in their culture. Red lipstick finished the look.

She rang the chime at Dramin's, giving mean, Klingon-esque looks and hisses at the men who stared a moment too long while she waited.

Dramin on the other hand was a little bit less dolled up - he'd gone for a white dress shirt, grey trousers and black jacket, simple stuff for a relatively simple night out. Even if it was just a night out at Mel's with his better half. The doorbell chimed, he answered the door - and Dramin instantly forgot how to breathe. Aimee, as always, looked stunning in that lacy outfit of hers that complimented her figure so well it hurt. "Hello there." He smiled and curled an arm around her waist as he leaned in to kiss her. She would meet him with equal passion, he knew that, and he ached for it.

"Hi," she said, leaning in when he did. She kissed him back with the same passion...pulling away quickly so they wouldn't lose themselves in each other and actually do something. "You look nice," she said. "Are you ready? This is an establishment with food, right? You know how bitey I get when I am hungry," she said. If not, he'd be wise to replicate them something to-go. "Will your Vulcan friend be dancing tonight?" She asked. She wasn't jealous-the Vulcan was a lesbian, and she trusted him. They both knew she could kill him with one hand if she chose to, anyway.

"T'Zara? I don't think so. We don't stay in contact, not often, at any rate." Dramin knew the beautiful Vulcan dancer only tangentially, having heard of her via coworkers and met her all of once, from which they'd struck up a friendship - but the two rarely talked, given Dramin's usual preoccupation with his work, less so nowadays because Aimee had decided to aggressively make sure he had a better work-life balance than he could've ever hoped for.

"At any rate, yes, there will be food, I promise." He said, curling a slender arm around her hips. "They serve the most excellent steak, if you'd like." Of course, he knew that it'd take more than just food to satiate Aimee's appetite per se - but that didn't need to be said. "Shall we?" He gestured down the hallway, ignoring the jealous gazes a few crew members tossed their way.

"Good!" She said, in regards to the food. She let him lead her down the hallway and into the turbolift to exit the building. "Oh, I didn't realize it was only that kind of acquaintance-ship. You should invite her to have dinner with us sometime. It can be lonely out here," she said. She knew that. Soon, they were on the Promenade, on the way to Mel's, and she was enjoying drawing attention. She wasn't vain, she just liked to mess with people. The tall, pretty Klingon made certain to stay in good physical shape, and it showed. They finally arrived, and were seated.

Honestly, Dramin took a little bit of pleasure in watching people gaze jealously at them as they walked down the corridor. A few months ago he'd been questioning himself hard about how he'd managed to attract the affections of a woman as beautiful and strong as Aimee; nowadays he found it easier to simply pay the matter no heed and take things as such. Besides, Aimee was the kind to remind him (with a little bit of light physical violence if need be) not to question the good things in life that came his way.

They had brought a picnic-Dramin had packed her favorite-steak, with a small salad and potatoes. They would just order drinks. "I'll have Romulan Ale," she said, with a smile. It was a joke, of course. It was illegal on Federation spaces, and she supposed this counted. "Springwine, and some water, as well."

The waitress knew she was kidding, of course, and merely hurried away with their orders, smiling. Dramin watched her leave before turning back to Aimee. "I hear the performance tonight is by an Andorian troupe of performers." He commented. "Or at least some of my colleagues say. They say it is slated to be quite... racy."

Aimee cocked an eyebrow. "Really? Sounds...fun," she said. "A good warm up for later!" She grinned wickedly. "The waitress didn't startle at my joke about live-feeding," she pouted lightly. "What good is it being Klingon if I can't scare people occasionally?" She asked.

"Aimee, my dear, you constantly find ways to scare me, in bed and otherwise." Dramin deadpanned with a chuckle. "I'm sure you scare people in other ways - perhaps others do not bring me harm because they know you'll protect me ferociously." He suggested playfully. "Though I suppose you'll do that in any case. Which I am grateful for." Indeed, a pretty blonde waitress passed them both and shot Dramin a jealous glance.

Aimee shrugged. "That's true," she said. Her eyes followed the waitress, a look of hardened steel in her eyes. "I should start wearing the traditional leathers. Maybe they'll be scared then," she said. "It's hard to be taken seriously as warrior in a dumb blue uniform," she complained. "How are things in Jag land?" She turned her attention to her companion, and light chatter until their drinks arrived.

"Easy enough of late, still busy but easier - but of course, you drag me kicking and screaming from the office before I can overexert myself to complete them." Dramin joked. Sure, he might've really, really wanted to get things done within, say, a day of getting them, but he knew that Aimee would've never let him go back to his old nigh nonexistent work-life balance, and he was grateful for it, as much as he might've pretended not to be. "The galaxy seems to have quietened down, and thank goodness, so have the cases that the JAG's Chambers have to deal with."

Their drinks arrived then. Dramin unpacked their dinner for the night and let Aimee have the first bite before turning his attention to the stage. "You won't attack the performers if they come down stage and decide to get a little too close, will you?" He joked, glancing sideways at his dining companion.

Aimee smiled. "I am glad things have slowed down for you; I don't want to make a habit of having to come find you after Duty," she said. She took the bite of meat he offered. "Perfect," she said, through a mouthful. After a moment, she replied. "Nah, it's kind of hot to watch. Will YOU?" She asked.

"Well..." Dramin swallowed thickly. "Of course not. If it's part of their performance it would be rude to lash out at them, no? What'll you do if they lay their hands on me?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "I hear they choose a few audience members at random for that..."

"Eat their liver through their nose and use their ribs as arrows," she said, with a shrug. "I trust you to follow your heart and participate where and how you feel comfortable for both of us," she said. "What if they picked ME?" She asked. "After all, look at me," she laughed. "It'll be fine. I know what Cabaret entails and if I worried that much, I wouldn't have suggested it."

"And I trust YOU to the exact same degree, love. I promise." Dramin smiled and looked to the stage as music began to play. The performance was about to begin.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Put your hands together for the Cobalt Cabaret!" A sort of sticky-sweet female voice oozed from the overhead speakers as the curtains slid aside, revealing a pair of beautiful and scantily dressed Andorian women that pranced across the stage in a carefully choreographed show of sensuality and grace. No surprise there.

Aimee smiled. "Ooh, it's starting," she said, in a low voice. She watched in interest as a pair of Andorian dancers came on. It was both erotic and a bit nerve-racking; watching sexy things with your partner was a step they hadn't reached yet and it was...a lot.

Dramin, surprisingly, held himself quite well throughout the performance. He seemed unbothered as the Andorians did their sensual dance, drawing catcalls and excited murmurs from the attendees around them. Then the two dancers sashayed down stage and mingled with the crowd, making their way around the tables, soon reaching their table...

Aimee watched the dance as it continued. She got into it, catcalling and "oohing" where appropriate, holding onto Dramin's hand as she did so. She did her best to memorize the moves-maybe she'd try to copy them later that night, for him, when they were alone in his quarters. Finally, the women came down to mingle. When they stopped at their table, Aimee raised an eyebrow and smirked. "He's enjoying the show, but so am I, ladies."

The two Andorians giggled. They were almost identical; they must have been twins. One looked slightly older and was small-chested, the other was busty and about half a head shorter than her dance partner. "We know. The show never fails to get standing ovations... apart from getting other things to stand, too, hehe." The short one said flirtatiously, coming round Aimee to rest her fingertips on the Klingon's shoulders while the older one tended to a blushing, stuttery Dramin. "Tell us. What does a Klingon do aboard this lovely station?" The older one purred as she massaged Dramin's shoulders, expertly working knots of tension from the Kelpien's shoulders.

Aimee snickered. "I am sure you do. I am a science officer. Lab technician, specifically. Are you ladies new to the Station?" She asked. She wasn't as quick to let go as Dramin, but then she wasn't a man, and she was a Klingon.

"We got here when the bar opened. We're its star act, so you know." The younger one replied with a giggle. "Lab tech, hmm? Hot, strong and smart - your boyfriend over there is lucky to have you, and I think he knows it." She added. "We can't stay too long - but maybe when we're done here..." Her hazel eyes gleamed mischievously as she pulled away from Aimee. "Shriza over there is a budding scientist, for one..."

Aimee smiled wickedly. "We could find ourselves backstage," she said. "He has high security clearances, anyway," she said. That would be fun!

"Aimee, that's not what my security clearance is for-" Dramin replied, only to be silenced by the older Andorian. "We might just have to take you up on that offer." She said, taking off from Dramin's shoulders to leave. "See you, hot stuff." She smirked at the very shocked, very blushy Kelpien and left with her sister in tow.

"You know that isn't how an attorney uses his clearance..." Dramin protested when they were finally out of earshot.

Aimee simply laughed. "I know. But they don't," she said. "It'll be fine. You worry too much."

Dramin raised an eyebrow at her. "Well then. What'll you do now that they might actually be expecting us backstage when this performance is over?"

Aimee smiled wickedly. "We go," she said. "Unless you're scared." She teased.

"I- No! I- I didn't think you were the type to share." Dramin's cheeks flushed a dark shade of red. The more time he spent with Aimee the more he learned about her - and today was no exception to that trend, it seemed. "Well, um." He glanced briefly at the stage; the music had begun to die down, and the two Andorian sisters retreated backstage with a sultry wave to the catcalling crowd. "Sh- Shall we?"

Aimee smiled wickedly, and pulled him up by his hand. "Let's go," she said.

 

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