Welcome,welcome, welcome! Happy December, everyone! May the last month of your year be filled with, love, laughter, sharing – and all the joy your soul can hold, and then some, so that it flows out from you and embraces others.
To help that wish along, I’ve created a special Advent calendar. It’s as non-denominational as it can be, because it doesn’t stop on December 25 – and because it espouses the concept of IDIC – Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.
Every day, all month, I’m posting a short story. These are freewritings I created while preparations for an upcoming project. They’re rough and imperfect; I’m only going to correct for spelling and grammar.
OK, time for a quick briefing:
Spoiler zone ahead! If you were to want to start watching a show that was canceled a decade ago, and you don’t want to know what happens – well, this could be a good post to skip. I’m looking to delight, not to spoil.
The base art for the calendar elements of this post was created by Annalise S. Burton, and is used with permission and compensation.
I don’t own Trip, T’Pol, or the franchise that conceived them. These stories are offered as a gift, without expectation for any compensation. Of course, comments, rhapsodizing ramblings, and honest feedback of all kinds are always welcome!
And now, to the calendar…..we lift the tab…and find…T’Pol wearing a conversation starter, and the conversation she engenders with her wardrobe.
“I think this will wreak havoc on military discipline.”
“Good old Malcolm. I’ll say to you just what I said to her, when she asked me about the change. What she wears isn’t as important as having her along. I’m not about to look a gift Vulcan in the mouth – or the wardrobe, either. We need her, Malcolm, no matter what she’s wearing.”
“It’s not like that uniform the High Command had her in wasn’t distracting.” Travis chuckled. “And I’ve seen you looking as much as anyone else, Lieutenant.”
“You haven’t put in your two cents, Trip.” Jon nudged him; Trip knew that the Cap’n was worried about him.
He also bet he knew a hell of a lot more than any of the others about the whipcord-slender woman in the baby-blue catsuit that looked like it had been poured over those glorious, impossible curves of hers.
Like the fact that she could probably hear every word they said, even though they were half the Mess Hall away from where she stood at the drink servitor, Typically, she had her nose in a datapadd, reading.
Trip also knew where she’d gotten that Triaxian silk to begin with…it had cost him a half-day of cobbling together a resequencer for that luxuries trader, and her ire when he took a liking to Liana. But it was worth it; because he was right. She looked good in the silk – better than good.
He wanted to run his hands over her curves, over that silk. He wanted to peel it off her, and finally see everything she had underneath.
He wanted to walk right up to her, plant one on her, and let all three of these lechs know that he had the prior claim, if anyone did, before any of them even met her….
“Gentlemen don’t stare, or ogle,” he said, and got up. “If they think a lady looks good in what she’s wearing, they go tell her so – and that’s just what I’m gonna do.”
What will Trip say to T’Pol?
Will he ‘plant one on her’ and stake his claim?
How will she respond?
Will anyone else guess what he’s thinking?
Did T’Pol actually hear the comments?
Drop me a comment in the box below, and I’ll add a paragraph to the story. If you suggest a prompt, I’ll find a way to use it. If you want to know more, I’ll explain a bit of the premise behind the story. You can also watch the Season One episode “Oasis” and the Season Two finale, “The Expanse” to learn more.
Need more IDIC Romance Advent stories?
And now, before we go, as promised…one more from “Xyrillian Engineer”!
Without a Trace
But why the hell should he care what she thought about it? Kaitama had instigated it; she wanted him. He was pretty sure he could drop by her quarters and be welcomed right back into her bed. He was damned sure that wasn’t gonna happen if he rang T’Pol’s doorbell. Oh, no. If he wasn’t invited, or he didn’t have specific business – he’d thought, once, that maybe there could be something powerful between them. But the cowled stranger in that jazz club seemed to have vanished without a trace, and it was none of her damned business what he did with the First Monarch or anyone else.