Look look ...
But look a little at what I happened to find, rummaging through the papers of my unutterable ancestor.
Sure, it's hard to imagine that it could be true. And who could have been so rich in so personal details, if not Trip or T'Pol herself?
Humbug, humbug! Really! Nothing more than that! Neither Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker the Third, or - imagine! - T'Pol could have ever revealed to my ancestor such things!
But ... But ... There is such a precision here. And. .. if it were true?
But what, damn it!?, You're certainly wondering, my friends.
Okay, okay. Let me explain.
Do you remember "Shore Leave" '?
Well, in "Shore Leave" something remained - how to say? - kept in suspense. What? By golly, should I remind you that, apparently, our dear T'Pol had decided to enjoy the warm waters of Florida, namely to learn to swim in them with the help of her Trip (Who knows why? Mah!)? I am sure there's no need, right? However, we know nothing about this "Swimming Lesson"; we left our two lovebirds - how to say? - a tad "busy" in the first night of their Shore Leave.
Here, that is precisely the point. My ancestor told me by means of his recordings - and now I'll tell you - everything happened in that Shore Leave about this famous swimming lesson. And also about a certain tiny bikini that T'Pol was supposed to wear.
But apart from this, my ancestor also told something more important than that simple swimming lesson, more important - much more important - than that bikini (though, undoubtedly, this bikini a certain importance, it has).
And it is precisely this that makes me think that what you are going to read is not a fable.
On the other hand, can you think that an image like this one can be false?
But look a little at what I happened to find, rummaging through the papers of my unutterable ancestor.
Sure, it's hard to imagine that it could be true. And who could have been so rich in so personal details, if not Trip or T'Pol herself?
Humbug, humbug! Really! Nothing more than that! Neither Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker the Third, or - imagine! - T'Pol could have ever revealed to my ancestor such things!
But ... But ... There is such a precision here. And. .. if it were true?
But what, damn it!?, You're certainly wondering, my friends.
Okay, okay. Let me explain.
Do you remember "Shore Leave" '?
Well, in "Shore Leave" something remained - how to say? - kept in suspense. What? By golly, should I remind you that, apparently, our dear T'Pol had decided to enjoy the warm waters of Florida, namely to learn to swim in them with the help of her Trip (Who knows why? Mah!)? I am sure there's no need, right? However, we know nothing about this "Swimming Lesson"; we left our two lovebirds - how to say? - a tad "busy" in the first night of their Shore Leave.
Here, that is precisely the point. My ancestor told me by means of his recordings - and now I'll tell you - everything happened in that Shore Leave about this famous swimming lesson. And also about a certain tiny bikini that T'Pol was supposed to wear.
But apart from this, my ancestor also told something more important than that simple swimming lesson, more important - much more important - than that bikini (though, undoubtedly, this bikini a certain importance, it has).
And it is precisely this that makes me think that what you are going to read is not a fable.
On the other hand, can you think that an image like this one can be false?
No, of course. I know for sure. And you as well.
So here's to you...
Ah, a small detail. Do not forget that the one who tells lies, to tell the truth, it's me.
Even my friend Linda, who lent me her help, says that it is so, that I am a damn liar.
Maybe.
Who knows.
Even my friend Linda, who lent me her help, says that it is so, that I am a damn liar.
Maybe.
Who knows.
_____________________________________________________________
"It's time."
And in saying this, she stood up.
Little fountains of iridescent and glittering sand slipped slight and soft down from her.
Trip looked up at her, from his recumbent posture on the beach.
Her shoulders and arms, showing off from the snazzy pareo enwrapping her body down to her feet, stood out dark against the sky so clear and limpid as to appear cobalt blue.
The sound of the surf could be heard, soft and rhythmic, in the background, among the chatter of the bathers and of those who were blissfully enjoying the warm sun.
She lowered her head toward him and took off the large sunglasses that hid almost wholly her visage.
Her large dark eyes appeared, and they stared at him intentionally from under the swimming cap that covered her hair and ears.
With a single, fluid motion she unhooked the ends holding up the sarong and at the same time let slid to the ground the motley beach-clothing, that went to settle softly on the sand, followed almost simultaneously by the glasses, nonchalantly dropping from her hand.
Trip did not notice it, - and how could he? - but if he had been able to pay attention to what was around him, as he had been able to do until just a moment before, right before T'Pol had dropped the pareo that covered her, he would realize that every chatter had ceased, as if by magic, that only the gentle sound of the surf was left to fill the bated silence suddenly fallen around them.
But he could not. Not with that T'Pol, that T'Pol… looking in that way, standing a hair's breadth away from him; her eyes, sly and laughing, pointing downwards to his dumbfounded face.
He had not yet seen her… dressed... uh, ah, yes... dr… dressed… that way. When they had put themselves along the short road from their hotel towards the facing beach, she already wore sarong, cap and goggles. Trip had already found her combined like that, when he had come out of the shower.
"Please shut your mouth and wear your beach suit. It is the day of my swimming lesson and I think we have sufficiently recovered from… the fatigue of the night. I would like to enjoy, as you say, the delight of the water, with your help, without further delay."
So she had spoken.
Lapidary words, uttered in her usual trenchant and assertive tone, but her voice had resounded sweetly cheerful, in some way. Silvery, he could have said. And unequivocally affectionate.
Trip no longer deceived himself about her. He could read her in every detail, in every innermost fold, even without the help of the Bond.
But that did not mean she was not able to amaze him.
How then, in the morning, when she had surprised him so, in that way, by appearing to him with that swaddling sarong that wrapped her small and yet busty body and together brought out her soft and attractive form, showing without half-measures how she was shapely and gorgeous.
And how now.
With that tiny bikini.
That she had worn for him, as she had done before with the sarong; to be enjoyed by him.
And… that did not hide anything except what was strictly necessary.
While snapping to sit up, Trip looked upon her with startled amazement. He had teased her so many times. Had tried in every way to convince her.
________________________________________________
"A bikini?"
"Yes, darlin', a bikini."
"I do not think it is something suitable for a Vulcan female."
"But it is suitable for the Vulcan female of a Human male."
"As illogical as every Human male, I'd say."
"That I am devoid of logic, I know. You made me notice it so many times. But in this case, why?
"What logic has being able to taste, to say it how you would, only part of what you can taste in its entirety?"
"The taste to imagine how is the part that you can not taste."
"Which you have already so much tasted, though, and whose taste, therefore, has no need to be imagined by you, since you already know very well the taste it has."
"And which, precisely because already so much tasted by me and because undisposable to be tasted, inasmuch concealed, would let me anticipate the delicious taste of being able to taste again its delightful taste."
"And what about the taste of the others?"
"The taste of the others?"
"The taste of the other Human males who could taste the sight of me wearing a bikini on the beach. They, too, would be able to imagine what you would like to have a foretaste of."
"But that they cannot taste for real."
"You're very sure of yourself, apparently."
"Should I not be?"
"You... have to. But still talking like you, they would be able to taste with their eyes much more than what is legitimate for them to taste."
"Dying of envy for the one who can really taste it."
"And you would be pleased to taste their envy?"
"I would be pleased to taste the vision of you wearing a bikini, maybe not too tiny, if too skimpy clothing is not exactly your taste. But if you do not even have enough courage to try to taste which taste you might taste by wearing a not particularly revealing bikini..."
"Is it a challenge?"
"But when have I never challenged you? This would really be… in bad taste.
"Often, if not always, and, after all, you know, judging from your taste for certain Hawaiian shirts, not exactly tasteful, we cannot frankly say that good taste is your forte.
"Oh, damn it! Still with these damn Hawaiian shirts! They are colourful, just as my personality, not distasteful, okay? And am I wrong or you've been just the one who affirmed this? Or should I assume that Vulcans have the bad taste to lie?"
"Vulcans are anything but attributable of having bad taste, nor regarding the lie, nor regarding anything else. They appreciate beauty, in all its aspects, even in the aspect of the beauty of truth and, just because of that, they are endowed with extremely good taste."
"Very well. So I can take for certain that your taste for me is not due to some constitutional Vulcan bad taste. Good for me. A woman of so good taste, like you, cannot harbour a taste for a man of bad taste, which means I am not..."
"We cannot say that modesty is your forte, just like good taste. Anyway, we are discussing your taste, not mine, and…"
"Sure. But I do not understand how you, who are so in good taste, may have a taste for a man with such bad taste, unless I'm not just so in bad taste."
"… and, if your 'usual' courtesy lets me finish what I was saying, it is in bad taste make use of other people's statements in order..."
"To gain the winning point of the game?"
"If I well understand what you mean with your taste for slang expressions, yes, it's in extremely bad taste."
"Oh, but, evidently, in the end, I'm really a man of bad taste. Did not you just say this, my sweet honey? You said that good taste is far from my forte. And you are stressing with force this concept."
"Just as you are giving the best of yourself to prove that I'm anything but far wrong."
"Yeah, yeah. Sure, you're right. Of course it's weird, though. If that's the case, how do you explain my taste for Vulcan females, or, rather, for one certain Vulcan female? One very peculiar Vulcan female? Could this be enough to say that, if you look closely, I can't at all be defined a man of bad taste?"
"Well, as for that, you're…"
"Definitely of good taste, eh, Hon? Oh sure, sure, as for that, I am, apparently. Right, darlin'? I'm persuaded. Just as I am more than persuaded not to show off the slightest hint of bad taste by affirming that you have always savoured tastefully the flavourful taste to take up all the challenges with which you say that I have always challenged you."
"Yes, darlin', a bikini."
"I do not think it is something suitable for a Vulcan female."
"But it is suitable for the Vulcan female of a Human male."
"As illogical as every Human male, I'd say."
"That I am devoid of logic, I know. You made me notice it so many times. But in this case, why?
"What logic has being able to taste, to say it how you would, only part of what you can taste in its entirety?"
"The taste to imagine how is the part that you can not taste."
"Which you have already so much tasted, though, and whose taste, therefore, has no need to be imagined by you, since you already know very well the taste it has."
"And which, precisely because already so much tasted by me and because undisposable to be tasted, inasmuch concealed, would let me anticipate the delicious taste of being able to taste again its delightful taste."
"And what about the taste of the others?"
"The taste of the others?"
"The taste of the other Human males who could taste the sight of me wearing a bikini on the beach. They, too, would be able to imagine what you would like to have a foretaste of."
"But that they cannot taste for real."
"You're very sure of yourself, apparently."
"Should I not be?"
"You... have to. But still talking like you, they would be able to taste with their eyes much more than what is legitimate for them to taste."
"Dying of envy for the one who can really taste it."
"And you would be pleased to taste their envy?"
"I would be pleased to taste the vision of you wearing a bikini, maybe not too tiny, if too skimpy clothing is not exactly your taste. But if you do not even have enough courage to try to taste which taste you might taste by wearing a not particularly revealing bikini..."
"Is it a challenge?"
"But when have I never challenged you? This would really be… in bad taste.
"Often, if not always, and, after all, you know, judging from your taste for certain Hawaiian shirts, not exactly tasteful, we cannot frankly say that good taste is your forte.
"Oh, damn it! Still with these damn Hawaiian shirts! They are colourful, just as my personality, not distasteful, okay? And am I wrong or you've been just the one who affirmed this? Or should I assume that Vulcans have the bad taste to lie?"
"Vulcans are anything but attributable of having bad taste, nor regarding the lie, nor regarding anything else. They appreciate beauty, in all its aspects, even in the aspect of the beauty of truth and, just because of that, they are endowed with extremely good taste."
"Very well. So I can take for certain that your taste for me is not due to some constitutional Vulcan bad taste. Good for me. A woman of so good taste, like you, cannot harbour a taste for a man of bad taste, which means I am not..."
"We cannot say that modesty is your forte, just like good taste. Anyway, we are discussing your taste, not mine, and…"
"Sure. But I do not understand how you, who are so in good taste, may have a taste for a man with such bad taste, unless I'm not just so in bad taste."
"… and, if your 'usual' courtesy lets me finish what I was saying, it is in bad taste make use of other people's statements in order..."
"To gain the winning point of the game?"
"If I well understand what you mean with your taste for slang expressions, yes, it's in extremely bad taste."
"Oh, but, evidently, in the end, I'm really a man of bad taste. Did not you just say this, my sweet honey? You said that good taste is far from my forte. And you are stressing with force this concept."
"Just as you are giving the best of yourself to prove that I'm anything but far wrong."
"Yeah, yeah. Sure, you're right. Of course it's weird, though. If that's the case, how do you explain my taste for Vulcan females, or, rather, for one certain Vulcan female? One very peculiar Vulcan female? Could this be enough to say that, if you look closely, I can't at all be defined a man of bad taste?"
"Well, as for that, you're…"
"Definitely of good taste, eh, Hon? Oh sure, sure, as for that, I am, apparently. Right, darlin'? I'm persuaded. Just as I am more than persuaded not to show off the slightest hint of bad taste by affirming that you have always savoured tastefully the flavourful taste to take up all the challenges with which you say that I have always challenged you."
________________________________________________
Yeah. She had always taken up his challenges. Just like now. And beyond all expectations.
Not too tiny? To hell, if it wasn't tiny! It was microscopic!
Trip's eyes followed with mute astonishment the magnificent shapely and together slender curves of T'Pol's body, flourishing, bursting out and yet sweetly soft, from the petite barrier of her awfully scanty swimsuit. His eyes caressed them, drank them, inhaled them.
God, how she was beautiful!
Oh he knew – he had tasted, and savoured – those curves, their gorgeous form and substance, in a way that no one else had been able or could ever be able to do, that no one else might even imagine, since they had been revealed to him the first time, in that magical night when she had wanted him to know, and taste, and savour them. But they - like her soul, and her mind, and her capacity to go along paths new and unknown to her - would never finish amazing him in their supple and sumptuous beauty.
And now, just now, just in that moment, in which the three small triangles of cloth, which constituted her so-called bikini, revealed them, in a sense, even more, by naughtily concealing from view the much - the little - that could show her beauty in all its splendour… now, just for this reason, they appeared even more wondrous, more dazzling in their striking, statuesque perfection.
He had not been mistaken, no. The game of "Look what you can see and imagine what you can not see" that women knew all along how to use so well against men to inflate their desire, to make them their, worked with T'Pol much more than with Human women, maybe just because of who she was, or perhaps it was so for him because he knew who she was.
And as much as he already well knew to be totally hers, he felt being hers even more, if that could ever be possible. He felt languorously and sensually and willingly and joyously ensnared in her no way out trap of seduction.
But ... - Trip became suddenly aware of the silence that had fallen around them; it seemed to him that even the sound of the surf had grown fainter - … but, irrespective of the cognizance that only he had of who T'Pol was in reality, irrespective of the fact that the seduction game of T'Pol was aimed at him and him alone, that it was played for him, it, the game, with all evidence, appeared to work perfectly… not only for him.
Trip's gaze darted around.
Open mouths and wide open eyes: scowling eyes of women, goggled eyes of men.
And he felt awfully uncomfortable.
And insanely and ridiculously jealous.
His eyes - frowning, almost angry - returned to T'Pol, on her splendid and exhibited form. "Was there not a different bikini?"
"Is it still a little too big?"
"No! Hell, no! It is ... is too small! It... it is non-existent!"
"Not good?"
"No!"
"No? Strange. I was convinced that you wanted it to be as small as possible. I thought: the smaller the bikini, the greater the envy the other men would feel for you. Was I wrong?"
"Yes! Namely, no!"
"Yes or not?"
"I mean ... there are limits! The other men ... the other men are eating you with their eyes!"
"And is it not what you wanted?"
"Yes! Namely, no!"
"Yes or not?
"Yes! No! Yes! No! No no no! I ... I..."
"Jealous, Ashayam?"
"I ... I ... Yes!"
"Very well. So you can understand how I felt, what you made me feel, with your games with Corporal Cole."
"So the Vulcans not only can be jealous, but also vindictive?"
"Have not you always said that I am a very peculiar Vulcan?"
"Yes, but ... but…"
T'Pol's lips curled imperceptibly into what could only be a smile, a smile very, very sweet, and subtly teasing, Trip could swear, but still with the most great mildness. "I am a very peculiar Vulcan, T'hai'la. I am a Vulcan woman whose heart beats madly for a Human man. For you."
Trip gasped. Of wonder? Of joy? He did not know, not even asked himself. He just gasped, without words, his eyes wide open, enraptured, astonished.
And with his heart at the most furious gallop.
T'Pol's lips resumed their usual neutral position. But her eyes were smiling. Oh, how they smiled! And how softly! "Maybe if you will decide to show clearly everyone your unquestionable right of ownership of what belongs to you, a little of that envy from others that you were expecting, it could really arise."
It has been a matter of a blink. Trip jumped up, grabbed T'Pol, hugged her, held her close, kissed her.
She clung to him and her fleshy mouth responded passionately to his kiss.
Because there, on Earth, on that beach, hidden from everyone for who she was, she - a very peculiar Vulcan - felt free to be free? To act as, elsewhere and recognizable for who she was, she could never do or would feel to do? Perhaps for the very fact of being there, on that golden beach immersed in the sun and in the sea breeze, with the sweet sound of the waves tickling her sensitive Vulcan ears? Of finding herself plunged into that atmosphere, so different from everything she knew, and so calm, so cool, so favourable to push everyone, even her, especially her - the very peculiar Vulcan female she was - towards unknown feelings and desires of behavioural informality, towards unvulcan-like feelings and desires of heady and unashamed liberty?
Maybe. Yeah. Maybe also for all these reasons. But in her soft and warm body joyfully abandoned to his embrace, in her soft curves sweetly offered to his arms, in her soft lips ardently returning his kiss, in the Bond softly reverberating with delight and soulfulness and joy and happiness, Trip felt with crystal evidence and clarity that there was something else, a "something else" very great, very important, extraordinarily important.
It was… her heart that beat madly for him, as she had said, Vulcanly hardly willing to say clearly and loudly that name, that Human word - Love.
But it was this.
It was her love for him.
But it did not take any sort of Bond, no particular telepathic ability, any kind of strange mental connection on his part to feel also something else that had nothing to do with T'Pol, except only indirectly.
There are things that Humans perceive, all along, even if they have no special capacity of mental communication. It happens that they can feel the feelings of others, when these feelings are addressed to them and are particularly intense. And so… envy, the envy that, palpable, permeated the air; the envy, really deep and intense, even if not negative, not disruptive, but merely made of the inevitable jealousy for the damn lucky man that he evidently was; the envy that arose in those who were watching them, in the boys around them, at seeing wide-eyed the two of them while they hugged and kissed each other with such ardour... that feeling, well, that feeling, he has been able to sense it fully and strongly, telepathy or not.
And for many reasons, even if not at all rational, he was sure that the other men could feel, just as fully and strongly, his joy, his happiness. And his pride.
The kiss lasted a long time, a very long time. It took the need to breathe to stop it. But Trip did not broke off the hug when he was forced to remove his lips from those of T'Pol, neither she, panting as him, made the slightest move to shirk from his arms.
The bright and glittering eyes of T'Pol stared at his from below upwards. "I ..." - She paused, panting a little. – "... I have to admit it."
"Wh ..." - A moment to catch his breath, he too. – "... what, Hon?"
"You were not at all wrong, Ashayam.
"No? About what?"
"After all it's not too bad, the others' envy, in some cases."
"Meaning what?"
T'Pol budged slightly from him, still remaining in the circle of his arms. She slid her hands on his powerful chest with gentleness and possessiveness and her eyes along his athletic figure, fully revealed if not for the part hidden by his swimsuit. Her eyes lingered on and caressed his slender and yet brawny body, ran all along it, from his square shoulders to his thighs that seemed carved in marble, and then they went up and came to rest on his golden hair that shone in the sun, and then on his face, tanned and… - T'Pol, sighed with pure contentment, as Humans do, but she had lot of good reasons, there was nothing at all to be ashamed of; she thought this with absolute conviction - … and awfully handsome and attractive.
Even with that odd and unconvincing moustache which strived to hide it a little. T'Pol suspected that there was a tinge of narcissism in wanting to put on that labial ornament, out of fashion and… annoyingly tickling, on the part of Trip.
Finally, her eyes came back to his, dived into their blue. The sparkle into hers glowed brighter, more and more. "There are not only men here, T'hai'la. There are also women. And they have seen."
Trip plunged his eyes into those of T'Pol. How they sparkled! Of what? Of love? Sure! Oh sure! Of passion? Oh sure, sure sure! Of joy? Of happiness? Oh sure sure sure sure sure! But maybe ... perhaps even of pride? Because ... because she had perceived...
"And I perceived their envy - not nasty, this not - when you have embraced and kissed me. It was so strong that there was no need of any mind-meld to perceive it. I believe that even a Human woman would have sensed it. And..." - T'Pol clung firmly to him, burying her face in his chest. Her voice sounded muffled and dreamy and incredibly soft, down, from his chest. – "And I can understand them, Ashayam. Me too I would be terribly envious if I were in their place instead of being here in your arms. I would be at least quite as envious more than how I feel glad, held tight in them. And proud."
Trip did not answer. He said nothing. He did not speak. And how the hell would he be able to do it? And then, what was the need? It was sufficient to hold her so, in his arms. It was sufficient her warmth. It was enough, well more than enough, the warmth of their love.
Eventually Trip roused himself. Unwillingly and with difficulty he broke the embrace and stepped back away a little from T'Pol. He smiled, trying to look normal. He tried to turn his bamboozled smile into his usual flippant and teasing smile. Without great results, though.
He tried to make it up by using his accustomed irony, though, in truth, his voice didn't ring completely firm. "Well, better stop, now, Honey. There are not only men and women on this beach, Darlin', there are also children. And as much as Humans tend to be more permissive and less restrained than Vulcans, and as much as they love to see people in love, better not to overdo it. You know, it wouldn't look at all a fine figure for two Starfleet Officers being arrested for indecent exposure."
At Trip's words, T'Pol straightened, trying to take back her customary stoic Vulcan face and her typical composure. Not very easy, to be honest, dressed up - just to be euphemistic - like that. Anyway she put all her good will there, even if, frankly, she had to admit to herself that she didn't fully manage to do it, and, what was worse and extremely illogical, was that she did not care that much.
Trip resolved the situation in his own way. He smiled gently at her and softly spoke. "Do we want to go?"
T'Pol nodded. "Let's go."
Trip took her hand and together they made for the sea shore, walking side by side on the sand, holding hands.
He, in his garish swimsuit, and she, in her micro bikini.
Behind them slowly the chatter started again.
And it would be quite nonsensical to wonder what the topic of conversation was.
Not too tiny? To hell, if it wasn't tiny! It was microscopic!
Trip's eyes followed with mute astonishment the magnificent shapely and together slender curves of T'Pol's body, flourishing, bursting out and yet sweetly soft, from the petite barrier of her awfully scanty swimsuit. His eyes caressed them, drank them, inhaled them.
God, how she was beautiful!
Oh he knew – he had tasted, and savoured – those curves, their gorgeous form and substance, in a way that no one else had been able or could ever be able to do, that no one else might even imagine, since they had been revealed to him the first time, in that magical night when she had wanted him to know, and taste, and savour them. But they - like her soul, and her mind, and her capacity to go along paths new and unknown to her - would never finish amazing him in their supple and sumptuous beauty.
And now, just now, just in that moment, in which the three small triangles of cloth, which constituted her so-called bikini, revealed them, in a sense, even more, by naughtily concealing from view the much - the little - that could show her beauty in all its splendour… now, just for this reason, they appeared even more wondrous, more dazzling in their striking, statuesque perfection.
He had not been mistaken, no. The game of "Look what you can see and imagine what you can not see" that women knew all along how to use so well against men to inflate their desire, to make them their, worked with T'Pol much more than with Human women, maybe just because of who she was, or perhaps it was so for him because he knew who she was.
And as much as he already well knew to be totally hers, he felt being hers even more, if that could ever be possible. He felt languorously and sensually and willingly and joyously ensnared in her no way out trap of seduction.
But ... - Trip became suddenly aware of the silence that had fallen around them; it seemed to him that even the sound of the surf had grown fainter - … but, irrespective of the cognizance that only he had of who T'Pol was in reality, irrespective of the fact that the seduction game of T'Pol was aimed at him and him alone, that it was played for him, it, the game, with all evidence, appeared to work perfectly… not only for him.
Trip's gaze darted around.
Open mouths and wide open eyes: scowling eyes of women, goggled eyes of men.
And he felt awfully uncomfortable.
And insanely and ridiculously jealous.
His eyes - frowning, almost angry - returned to T'Pol, on her splendid and exhibited form. "Was there not a different bikini?"
"Is it still a little too big?"
"No! Hell, no! It is ... is too small! It... it is non-existent!"
"Not good?"
"No!"
"No? Strange. I was convinced that you wanted it to be as small as possible. I thought: the smaller the bikini, the greater the envy the other men would feel for you. Was I wrong?"
"Yes! Namely, no!"
"Yes or not?"
"I mean ... there are limits! The other men ... the other men are eating you with their eyes!"
"And is it not what you wanted?"
"Yes! Namely, no!"
"Yes or not?
"Yes! No! Yes! No! No no no! I ... I..."
"Jealous, Ashayam?"
"I ... I ... Yes!"
"Very well. So you can understand how I felt, what you made me feel, with your games with Corporal Cole."
"So the Vulcans not only can be jealous, but also vindictive?"
"Have not you always said that I am a very peculiar Vulcan?"
"Yes, but ... but…"
T'Pol's lips curled imperceptibly into what could only be a smile, a smile very, very sweet, and subtly teasing, Trip could swear, but still with the most great mildness. "I am a very peculiar Vulcan, T'hai'la. I am a Vulcan woman whose heart beats madly for a Human man. For you."
Trip gasped. Of wonder? Of joy? He did not know, not even asked himself. He just gasped, without words, his eyes wide open, enraptured, astonished.
And with his heart at the most furious gallop.
T'Pol's lips resumed their usual neutral position. But her eyes were smiling. Oh, how they smiled! And how softly! "Maybe if you will decide to show clearly everyone your unquestionable right of ownership of what belongs to you, a little of that envy from others that you were expecting, it could really arise."
It has been a matter of a blink. Trip jumped up, grabbed T'Pol, hugged her, held her close, kissed her.
She clung to him and her fleshy mouth responded passionately to his kiss.
Because there, on Earth, on that beach, hidden from everyone for who she was, she - a very peculiar Vulcan - felt free to be free? To act as, elsewhere and recognizable for who she was, she could never do or would feel to do? Perhaps for the very fact of being there, on that golden beach immersed in the sun and in the sea breeze, with the sweet sound of the waves tickling her sensitive Vulcan ears? Of finding herself plunged into that atmosphere, so different from everything she knew, and so calm, so cool, so favourable to push everyone, even her, especially her - the very peculiar Vulcan female she was - towards unknown feelings and desires of behavioural informality, towards unvulcan-like feelings and desires of heady and unashamed liberty?
Maybe. Yeah. Maybe also for all these reasons. But in her soft and warm body joyfully abandoned to his embrace, in her soft curves sweetly offered to his arms, in her soft lips ardently returning his kiss, in the Bond softly reverberating with delight and soulfulness and joy and happiness, Trip felt with crystal evidence and clarity that there was something else, a "something else" very great, very important, extraordinarily important.
It was… her heart that beat madly for him, as she had said, Vulcanly hardly willing to say clearly and loudly that name, that Human word - Love.
But it was this.
It was her love for him.
But it did not take any sort of Bond, no particular telepathic ability, any kind of strange mental connection on his part to feel also something else that had nothing to do with T'Pol, except only indirectly.
There are things that Humans perceive, all along, even if they have no special capacity of mental communication. It happens that they can feel the feelings of others, when these feelings are addressed to them and are particularly intense. And so… envy, the envy that, palpable, permeated the air; the envy, really deep and intense, even if not negative, not disruptive, but merely made of the inevitable jealousy for the damn lucky man that he evidently was; the envy that arose in those who were watching them, in the boys around them, at seeing wide-eyed the two of them while they hugged and kissed each other with such ardour... that feeling, well, that feeling, he has been able to sense it fully and strongly, telepathy or not.
And for many reasons, even if not at all rational, he was sure that the other men could feel, just as fully and strongly, his joy, his happiness. And his pride.
The kiss lasted a long time, a very long time. It took the need to breathe to stop it. But Trip did not broke off the hug when he was forced to remove his lips from those of T'Pol, neither she, panting as him, made the slightest move to shirk from his arms.
The bright and glittering eyes of T'Pol stared at his from below upwards. "I ..." - She paused, panting a little. – "... I have to admit it."
"Wh ..." - A moment to catch his breath, he too. – "... what, Hon?"
"You were not at all wrong, Ashayam.
"No? About what?"
"After all it's not too bad, the others' envy, in some cases."
"Meaning what?"
T'Pol budged slightly from him, still remaining in the circle of his arms. She slid her hands on his powerful chest with gentleness and possessiveness and her eyes along his athletic figure, fully revealed if not for the part hidden by his swimsuit. Her eyes lingered on and caressed his slender and yet brawny body, ran all along it, from his square shoulders to his thighs that seemed carved in marble, and then they went up and came to rest on his golden hair that shone in the sun, and then on his face, tanned and… - T'Pol, sighed with pure contentment, as Humans do, but she had lot of good reasons, there was nothing at all to be ashamed of; she thought this with absolute conviction - … and awfully handsome and attractive.
Even with that odd and unconvincing moustache which strived to hide it a little. T'Pol suspected that there was a tinge of narcissism in wanting to put on that labial ornament, out of fashion and… annoyingly tickling, on the part of Trip.
Finally, her eyes came back to his, dived into their blue. The sparkle into hers glowed brighter, more and more. "There are not only men here, T'hai'la. There are also women. And they have seen."
Trip plunged his eyes into those of T'Pol. How they sparkled! Of what? Of love? Sure! Oh sure! Of passion? Oh sure, sure sure! Of joy? Of happiness? Oh sure sure sure sure sure! But maybe ... perhaps even of pride? Because ... because she had perceived...
"And I perceived their envy - not nasty, this not - when you have embraced and kissed me. It was so strong that there was no need of any mind-meld to perceive it. I believe that even a Human woman would have sensed it. And..." - T'Pol clung firmly to him, burying her face in his chest. Her voice sounded muffled and dreamy and incredibly soft, down, from his chest. – "And I can understand them, Ashayam. Me too I would be terribly envious if I were in their place instead of being here in your arms. I would be at least quite as envious more than how I feel glad, held tight in them. And proud."
Trip did not answer. He said nothing. He did not speak. And how the hell would he be able to do it? And then, what was the need? It was sufficient to hold her so, in his arms. It was sufficient her warmth. It was enough, well more than enough, the warmth of their love.
Eventually Trip roused himself. Unwillingly and with difficulty he broke the embrace and stepped back away a little from T'Pol. He smiled, trying to look normal. He tried to turn his bamboozled smile into his usual flippant and teasing smile. Without great results, though.
He tried to make it up by using his accustomed irony, though, in truth, his voice didn't ring completely firm. "Well, better stop, now, Honey. There are not only men and women on this beach, Darlin', there are also children. And as much as Humans tend to be more permissive and less restrained than Vulcans, and as much as they love to see people in love, better not to overdo it. You know, it wouldn't look at all a fine figure for two Starfleet Officers being arrested for indecent exposure."
At Trip's words, T'Pol straightened, trying to take back her customary stoic Vulcan face and her typical composure. Not very easy, to be honest, dressed up - just to be euphemistic - like that. Anyway she put all her good will there, even if, frankly, she had to admit to herself that she didn't fully manage to do it, and, what was worse and extremely illogical, was that she did not care that much.
Trip resolved the situation in his own way. He smiled gently at her and softly spoke. "Do we want to go?"
T'Pol nodded. "Let's go."
Trip took her hand and together they made for the sea shore, walking side by side on the sand, holding hands.
He, in his garish swimsuit, and she, in her micro bikini.
Behind them slowly the chatter started again.
And it would be quite nonsensical to wonder what the topic of conversation was.
"Here?"
"No, not here."
"Why not?"
"Too many people, Honey. Too many prying eyes. You would feel too uncomfortable."
"Vulcans never feel uncomfortable."
"Here we go again? Is it possible that every time you do not know how to fight a feeling that you don't like, you have to take refuge in this nonsense of the superior control ability of the Vulcans?"
"Vulcans are…"
"Besides, you should know it by now, especially considering that you were the one who taught it to me, namely that at this point it is difficult, if not impossible, for us to hide from each other what we feel, which means that now I know you just as well as you know me, which in the end means that now I know you too well to fall into the trap of your Vulcan assertiveness. So, please stop playing this game with me. You're uncomfortable. And here, in this crowded place, you'd still be the more. And I do not want you to be uncomfortable."
T'Pol felt herself hit where it hurts. She did not like being caught out. She left Trip's hand, and stepped to the side, turning afterward towards him with her eyebrow raised in the Vulcan expression, typical of her, by now well-known by Trip, the expression which meant: Mind you what you say, foolish Human.
But Trip didn't let himself be dismantled. Well, certainly the "particular situation of apparel" in which T'Pol was… dressed… at this moment was of not little importance in helping Trip not to let him be disassembled. You know, it is not easy to play with credibility the role of I am T'Pol of Vulcan, I know everything, and my word is the verb, just as T'Pol would have wanted to do at that time, when you wear one skimpy bikini. In addition, certainly it did not play in her favour that, unconsciously, she had placed her fists on her hips, assuming, without thinking, one of the usual poses of Trip and emphasizing thus the soft and appealing roundness of those hips.
In all honesty, despite the fact that Trip was fully aware that the moment that he and T'Pol were facing was anything but far from being not serious, even if not serious – frankly - it could appear, and that he should have tried to talk very seriously to T'Pol, but not too much, so as not to make her withdraw into her shell, as often happened when she was confronted with a reality that she did not like, a reality that, precisely, was making her feel uncomfortable ... well, despite all this, it was necessary for him to make a not little effort not to burst out laughing heartily.
Trip desperately tried to distract the focus of his mind from the so damn scantily-dressed vision that T'Pol was offering of herself to him.
He succeeded. Yes, it's really hard to believe, but he was able to do it. Evidently T'Pol's influence on him was not a trivial matter.
No, surely he could not burst out laughing. It would have really been big trouble! And even less could he be rid of the problem they were dealing with at that time as if it were a matter of no importance. I was not so, he felt and knew it, because ... well, because the fact was that now he was in T'Pol' heart, he knew what that expression from her meant for real. T'Pol was telling him: You are telling the truth, but you mustn't tell me. Which, if addressed to him, in the end meant: Please, help me.
He smiled at her with sassy sweetness. "Do not try to deny the evidence with me, please, sweetheart. See, I know, I know perfectly."
T'Pol lifted still further her eyebrow. "You know ... what?"
Trip sighed softly. *Come on! Go ahead. You have to say it, man. Speak with your heart, do not repeat the error again you've done so many times in the past, not to disclose your feelings. Do not be afraid to do so.*
"Honey, it gives me an immense pleasure that you want to learn to swim so as to share with me one of my greatest passions. But - I already told you this - there is not the minimal need to do it, there is not the minimal need for you to face what you feel very uncomfortable to cope with, as it's well clear to me. My greatest passion is you, and this passion does not need to be strengthened, it is stronger than any other. You are everything to me, and your swimming with me won't help to increase by a whit this passion. You can not increase what has no limits."
T'Pol remained speechless, and it was not the first time that this happened to her with Trip. And... and certainly would not be the last.
She felt overwhelmed by his love and did not know what to do.
Or rather...
She lowered her eyebrow, no longer trying to hide on her visage what she was feeling inside. She had already done it too many times with Trip, and she had always paid dearly. And even more so, Trip had been the one who had had to pay very dearly. Just Trip, her T'hai'la, who truly did not deserve it.
She grabbed his hand, while turning to the ocean, right there, right in front of her.
How large it was! And how threatening it appeared to her!
She squeezed tightly Trip's hand, avoiding looking at him so that he would not be able to patently see the uncertainty and the fear that she knew spread across her face. But she did not try much to hide the slight tremor of her voice. "I want to learn to swim, Trip. And I want you to teach it me. I want to do that because... it is not logical that I do not know how to do it. But I do not want to say it is not logical because it is illogical not knowing how to do it. What's illogical is that I can be unable to share with you everything. I must share with you everything and, therefore, this too."
"Hon! Damn it! I said…"
"Be quiet, Ashayam. Please."
T'Pol turned to his T'hai'la and looked at him trying to convey to him with her eyes all the Ashaya – all the love - she felt for him.
The Vulcans, at least at T'Pol's time and before they met Humans, were not able to express such strong emotions and feelings; they were no longer able to do it, after having spent their lives trying to suppress them, unnecessarily. They thought that they could get out of it. The crappy interpretation of Surak's doctrine had reduced them to that state. They had not yet found the balance they needed between logic and emotions that Humans would give to them, just as they would have done with Humans.
But T'Pol was a very, very special Vulcan. Inside her it was fervent the great past, the grandeur of the ancient Vulcans and the foretaste of their bright future, the future that would have been born thanks to her, just thanks to her love for Trip, to her union with him, to the union that she had accepted and wanted between her, a Vulcan, and him, a Human, even if she couldn't absolutely be aware of what would have sprung from all this, even if only very long afterward her people would have acknowledged to have a such great debit to her.
And, over and beyond and beside all this, that she could not know, it mustn't be forgotten that she – she, the very special Vulcan she was - had read and internalized, what her great-great-grandmother T'Mir had left written to her, in that letter.
And, most of all, she was in love with Trip.
And, perhaps, this Bond, this Bond that – now she was well conscious of that - was nothing if not true love - true Ashaya - would help her.
And so it was.
And, under the intensity of that look from her, so full of immensurable love, Trip ... well yes! Incredible, but true ... was no longer been able to speak.
Potency of love!
T'Pol grabbed with her other hand also Trip's other hand. "My K'diwa, did you like hugging and kissing me, before, on the beach?"
"But what are you asking me, T'Pol? Of course I liked it! Immensely!"
"I too liked it, my K'diwa."
"Oh, well, I hope so! I mean ... glad to hear it!"
"I think ... I believe that being hugged and kissed by you, in the water and under the water, surrounded, you and me, as one thing only, by that feeling of lightness and freedom that you've told me many times that one can experience in the water. ... I believe ... I think it would be a great gift... a great gift of love for me on your part if you would like to teach me how to be able to allow you to make me experience all this."
Trip was not even able to realize the verbal contortionism of T'Pol, which betrayed her embarrassment very well. In truth, he was not able to understand anything except that...
She had said it! She had pronounced that word! She had said "love"!
For the second time - for the second time! - in this Shore Leave, T'Pol had uttered that word. The night before, in their first night of love of their Shore Leave. And now on this sunny beach, in the gentle sea breeze that caressed them.
Without talking of all the rest!
Decidedly... decidedly splendid being in Shore Leave!
Then, suddenly, in a flash, Trip internalized all T'Pol had said. Everything!
And if, just before, just after her words, he had no longer been able to understand anything, now he was even less.
A gift... of love... for her... on his part! She wanted... she wanted...
The slight hand of T'Pol, gently caressing his cheek, brought him back to the world, on the sundrenched beach where he and she were.
"Trip ..."
The music of her voice cradled him.
"Do you want to make this gift to me, Ashayam?"
"No, not here."
"Why not?"
"Too many people, Honey. Too many prying eyes. You would feel too uncomfortable."
"Vulcans never feel uncomfortable."
"Here we go again? Is it possible that every time you do not know how to fight a feeling that you don't like, you have to take refuge in this nonsense of the superior control ability of the Vulcans?"
"Vulcans are…"
"Besides, you should know it by now, especially considering that you were the one who taught it to me, namely that at this point it is difficult, if not impossible, for us to hide from each other what we feel, which means that now I know you just as well as you know me, which in the end means that now I know you too well to fall into the trap of your Vulcan assertiveness. So, please stop playing this game with me. You're uncomfortable. And here, in this crowded place, you'd still be the more. And I do not want you to be uncomfortable."
T'Pol felt herself hit where it hurts. She did not like being caught out. She left Trip's hand, and stepped to the side, turning afterward towards him with her eyebrow raised in the Vulcan expression, typical of her, by now well-known by Trip, the expression which meant: Mind you what you say, foolish Human.
But Trip didn't let himself be dismantled. Well, certainly the "particular situation of apparel" in which T'Pol was… dressed… at this moment was of not little importance in helping Trip not to let him be disassembled. You know, it is not easy to play with credibility the role of I am T'Pol of Vulcan, I know everything, and my word is the verb, just as T'Pol would have wanted to do at that time, when you wear one skimpy bikini. In addition, certainly it did not play in her favour that, unconsciously, she had placed her fists on her hips, assuming, without thinking, one of the usual poses of Trip and emphasizing thus the soft and appealing roundness of those hips.
In all honesty, despite the fact that Trip was fully aware that the moment that he and T'Pol were facing was anything but far from being not serious, even if not serious – frankly - it could appear, and that he should have tried to talk very seriously to T'Pol, but not too much, so as not to make her withdraw into her shell, as often happened when she was confronted with a reality that she did not like, a reality that, precisely, was making her feel uncomfortable ... well, despite all this, it was necessary for him to make a not little effort not to burst out laughing heartily.
Trip desperately tried to distract the focus of his mind from the so damn scantily-dressed vision that T'Pol was offering of herself to him.
He succeeded. Yes, it's really hard to believe, but he was able to do it. Evidently T'Pol's influence on him was not a trivial matter.
No, surely he could not burst out laughing. It would have really been big trouble! And even less could he be rid of the problem they were dealing with at that time as if it were a matter of no importance. I was not so, he felt and knew it, because ... well, because the fact was that now he was in T'Pol' heart, he knew what that expression from her meant for real. T'Pol was telling him: You are telling the truth, but you mustn't tell me. Which, if addressed to him, in the end meant: Please, help me.
He smiled at her with sassy sweetness. "Do not try to deny the evidence with me, please, sweetheart. See, I know, I know perfectly."
T'Pol lifted still further her eyebrow. "You know ... what?"
Trip sighed softly. *Come on! Go ahead. You have to say it, man. Speak with your heart, do not repeat the error again you've done so many times in the past, not to disclose your feelings. Do not be afraid to do so.*
"Honey, it gives me an immense pleasure that you want to learn to swim so as to share with me one of my greatest passions. But - I already told you this - there is not the minimal need to do it, there is not the minimal need for you to face what you feel very uncomfortable to cope with, as it's well clear to me. My greatest passion is you, and this passion does not need to be strengthened, it is stronger than any other. You are everything to me, and your swimming with me won't help to increase by a whit this passion. You can not increase what has no limits."
T'Pol remained speechless, and it was not the first time that this happened to her with Trip. And... and certainly would not be the last.
She felt overwhelmed by his love and did not know what to do.
Or rather...
She lowered her eyebrow, no longer trying to hide on her visage what she was feeling inside. She had already done it too many times with Trip, and she had always paid dearly. And even more so, Trip had been the one who had had to pay very dearly. Just Trip, her T'hai'la, who truly did not deserve it.
She grabbed his hand, while turning to the ocean, right there, right in front of her.
How large it was! And how threatening it appeared to her!
She squeezed tightly Trip's hand, avoiding looking at him so that he would not be able to patently see the uncertainty and the fear that she knew spread across her face. But she did not try much to hide the slight tremor of her voice. "I want to learn to swim, Trip. And I want you to teach it me. I want to do that because... it is not logical that I do not know how to do it. But I do not want to say it is not logical because it is illogical not knowing how to do it. What's illogical is that I can be unable to share with you everything. I must share with you everything and, therefore, this too."
"Hon! Damn it! I said…"
"Be quiet, Ashayam. Please."
T'Pol turned to his T'hai'la and looked at him trying to convey to him with her eyes all the Ashaya – all the love - she felt for him.
The Vulcans, at least at T'Pol's time and before they met Humans, were not able to express such strong emotions and feelings; they were no longer able to do it, after having spent their lives trying to suppress them, unnecessarily. They thought that they could get out of it. The crappy interpretation of Surak's doctrine had reduced them to that state. They had not yet found the balance they needed between logic and emotions that Humans would give to them, just as they would have done with Humans.
But T'Pol was a very, very special Vulcan. Inside her it was fervent the great past, the grandeur of the ancient Vulcans and the foretaste of their bright future, the future that would have been born thanks to her, just thanks to her love for Trip, to her union with him, to the union that she had accepted and wanted between her, a Vulcan, and him, a Human, even if she couldn't absolutely be aware of what would have sprung from all this, even if only very long afterward her people would have acknowledged to have a such great debit to her.
And, over and beyond and beside all this, that she could not know, it mustn't be forgotten that she – she, the very special Vulcan she was - had read and internalized, what her great-great-grandmother T'Mir had left written to her, in that letter.
And, most of all, she was in love with Trip.
And, perhaps, this Bond, this Bond that – now she was well conscious of that - was nothing if not true love - true Ashaya - would help her.
And so it was.
And, under the intensity of that look from her, so full of immensurable love, Trip ... well yes! Incredible, but true ... was no longer been able to speak.
Potency of love!
T'Pol grabbed with her other hand also Trip's other hand. "My K'diwa, did you like hugging and kissing me, before, on the beach?"
"But what are you asking me, T'Pol? Of course I liked it! Immensely!"
"I too liked it, my K'diwa."
"Oh, well, I hope so! I mean ... glad to hear it!"
"I think ... I believe that being hugged and kissed by you, in the water and under the water, surrounded, you and me, as one thing only, by that feeling of lightness and freedom that you've told me many times that one can experience in the water. ... I believe ... I think it would be a great gift... a great gift of love for me on your part if you would like to teach me how to be able to allow you to make me experience all this."
Trip was not even able to realize the verbal contortionism of T'Pol, which betrayed her embarrassment very well. In truth, he was not able to understand anything except that...
She had said it! She had pronounced that word! She had said "love"!
For the second time - for the second time! - in this Shore Leave, T'Pol had uttered that word. The night before, in their first night of love of their Shore Leave. And now on this sunny beach, in the gentle sea breeze that caressed them.
Without talking of all the rest!
Decidedly... decidedly splendid being in Shore Leave!
Then, suddenly, in a flash, Trip internalized all T'Pol had said. Everything!
And if, just before, just after her words, he had no longer been able to understand anything, now he was even less.
A gift... of love... for her... on his part! She wanted... she wanted...
The slight hand of T'Pol, gently caressing his cheek, brought him back to the world, on the sundrenched beach where he and she were.
"Trip ..."
The music of her voice cradled him.
"Do you want to make this gift to me, Ashayam?"
"Here?"
"Yes, Hon, here yes."
T'Pol looked around. She peered over the place. Yes, indeed, Trip was right. It was really a good place.
They had walked slowly along the foreshore, holding hands, looking for the right spot
It had been... nice.
Walking that way, on a beach, right where the quiet waves of the sea come to lick your feet, submerging them, from time to time, and bringing away the sand from under them by retreating back, and then back to wrapping them... this was certainly something that no Vulcan had ever experienced.
The mobile and changeable surf was gentle and not too cold, or, rather, it was certainly cold for a Vulcan like her, but not too much, not too much. Indeed, yes, indeed one could say it was… refreshing.
It had been not unpleasant the strange feeling that had given her the walking on the soft and yielding shoreline. In truth, it had been a little difficult to maintain a decently normal walking upon it, but ... well yes… but it had been an enjoyable sensation.
And then, there had been - there was - Trip to hold her hand, to support her, when it had looked like she was about to loose her balance. And this ... well, this had been - this was – more than a pleasurable sensation, this was absolutely delightful. In fact ... ahem, in fact ... maybe ... well, yes ... perhaps she had seemed like losing her balance a few too many times, to be honest, maybe without that it had really been about to happen to her. But it had been - it was - so nice to feel the hands and arms of Trip to support her, to hold her tightly.
No. It was not at all unpleasant to walk barefoot on the foreshore.
Along with Trip.
Close to him.
Holding his hand.
"So, Hon? What do you think?"
T'Pol observed well the site, without answering. It was a recess of the great and long beach, along whose shore they had walked.
They had strayed far from the area of the hotels and of the inhabited area and had left behind the raucous crowd of bathers and now they were there, in what appeared to be a small and secluded beach. It was protected on one side by rocks which formed its end. Beyond there, they could no longer go. And there, in the tranquil silence broken only by the peaceful murmur of the calm surf, the sea, the ocean, even great, even in the great distance in which it appeared to get lost, up to the indistinct line that separated it from the sky, up to the horizon, seemed more intimate, quieter.
No longer threatening.
Trip's voice, low and quiet, rose behind her. "It looks like an oil, does it not, my love?"
T'Pol turned a moment to look at Trip. He was smiling to her. So sweetly. He knew what he was doing, he knew very well. He was reassuring her. Without telling her clearly. Without showing it clearly. Only with the tone of his voice, his attitude, with phrases and words that said it all without saying anything.
Surak! How she loved him!
T'Pol turned back toward the ocean, the reassuring presence of Trip well perceptible behind her.
It was true. The surface of the water was smooth and practically motionless, there, except for the sweet and gentle surf. It seemed… an oil.
She heard Trip move behind her. She turned her eyes and saw him go past her and move towards the sea with determination.
A moment, and he was in the water. He went forward through it, proceeding forcefully, but confidently, as if he knew well how to do - which was entirely true - until the water level was a few inches above his knees. Then turned. "See, Hon? It is low, the seabed slopes gently and is flat, smooth and downy, free of stones. There is no hidden danger, and the water is absolutely quiet."
He smiled gently. "As in a pool, better than in pool."
The smile became sly and sassy. His arms made a sweeping gesture around. "Certainly much nicer than in a pool, isn't it, sweetheart?"
His arms went back down. He bent down a little and his hands plunged into the water and made it whirl cheerfully. Then they re-emerged and beat the surface and then dived again and rose up suddenly, lively, raising iridescent splashes that flooded his body and his face. His eyes were laughing. "Do you understand now why I insisted that, if you really wanted me to teach you to swim, it was much better to do it here, in the sea, rather than in the pool?"
He straightened up, while his arms got up, both of them, towards T'Pol. They called her. Inviting and cosy. As a promise of embrace. "Come on, babe! Off you go! Come here. We are alone. And the water is warm."
T'Pol straightened in her turn. Her expression became serious and determined, almost scowling. She adjusted well her swimming cap. Took a deep breath. Breathed long, as if she were preparing to meditate.
Okay. The moment had really come.
Resolute and frowning, lips clenched, nose curled, she headed for the sea.
Towards Trip.
She did not stop when reached the water, did not even slow down. Penetrated it as an express train, raising splashes all around.
It was true, it was warm. A lot. Did not give any cold feeling.
A step. Fast. Another. And another. Less fast, in that medium so strange, that offered resistance, hindering her walking, and yet was yielding, was allowing her path.
Another yet, even slower. Another. There! She was in the arms of Trip.
They held her tightly, in the promised embrace, and she clung to him, to his wet body.
She lifted her face to look at him.
He gave her no time. He kissed her.
And she tasted the salt of the sea on his lips, as she responded to his kiss.
While the sea played jocosely around her thighs.
"Yes, Hon, here yes."
T'Pol looked around. She peered over the place. Yes, indeed, Trip was right. It was really a good place.
They had walked slowly along the foreshore, holding hands, looking for the right spot
It had been... nice.
Walking that way, on a beach, right where the quiet waves of the sea come to lick your feet, submerging them, from time to time, and bringing away the sand from under them by retreating back, and then back to wrapping them... this was certainly something that no Vulcan had ever experienced.
The mobile and changeable surf was gentle and not too cold, or, rather, it was certainly cold for a Vulcan like her, but not too much, not too much. Indeed, yes, indeed one could say it was… refreshing.
It had been not unpleasant the strange feeling that had given her the walking on the soft and yielding shoreline. In truth, it had been a little difficult to maintain a decently normal walking upon it, but ... well yes… but it had been an enjoyable sensation.
And then, there had been - there was - Trip to hold her hand, to support her, when it had looked like she was about to loose her balance. And this ... well, this had been - this was – more than a pleasurable sensation, this was absolutely delightful. In fact ... ahem, in fact ... maybe ... well, yes ... perhaps she had seemed like losing her balance a few too many times, to be honest, maybe without that it had really been about to happen to her. But it had been - it was - so nice to feel the hands and arms of Trip to support her, to hold her tightly.
No. It was not at all unpleasant to walk barefoot on the foreshore.
Along with Trip.
Close to him.
Holding his hand.
"So, Hon? What do you think?"
T'Pol observed well the site, without answering. It was a recess of the great and long beach, along whose shore they had walked.
They had strayed far from the area of the hotels and of the inhabited area and had left behind the raucous crowd of bathers and now they were there, in what appeared to be a small and secluded beach. It was protected on one side by rocks which formed its end. Beyond there, they could no longer go. And there, in the tranquil silence broken only by the peaceful murmur of the calm surf, the sea, the ocean, even great, even in the great distance in which it appeared to get lost, up to the indistinct line that separated it from the sky, up to the horizon, seemed more intimate, quieter.
No longer threatening.
Trip's voice, low and quiet, rose behind her. "It looks like an oil, does it not, my love?"
T'Pol turned a moment to look at Trip. He was smiling to her. So sweetly. He knew what he was doing, he knew very well. He was reassuring her. Without telling her clearly. Without showing it clearly. Only with the tone of his voice, his attitude, with phrases and words that said it all without saying anything.
Surak! How she loved him!
T'Pol turned back toward the ocean, the reassuring presence of Trip well perceptible behind her.
It was true. The surface of the water was smooth and practically motionless, there, except for the sweet and gentle surf. It seemed… an oil.
She heard Trip move behind her. She turned her eyes and saw him go past her and move towards the sea with determination.
A moment, and he was in the water. He went forward through it, proceeding forcefully, but confidently, as if he knew well how to do - which was entirely true - until the water level was a few inches above his knees. Then turned. "See, Hon? It is low, the seabed slopes gently and is flat, smooth and downy, free of stones. There is no hidden danger, and the water is absolutely quiet."
He smiled gently. "As in a pool, better than in pool."
The smile became sly and sassy. His arms made a sweeping gesture around. "Certainly much nicer than in a pool, isn't it, sweetheart?"
His arms went back down. He bent down a little and his hands plunged into the water and made it whirl cheerfully. Then they re-emerged and beat the surface and then dived again and rose up suddenly, lively, raising iridescent splashes that flooded his body and his face. His eyes were laughing. "Do you understand now why I insisted that, if you really wanted me to teach you to swim, it was much better to do it here, in the sea, rather than in the pool?"
He straightened up, while his arms got up, both of them, towards T'Pol. They called her. Inviting and cosy. As a promise of embrace. "Come on, babe! Off you go! Come here. We are alone. And the water is warm."
T'Pol straightened in her turn. Her expression became serious and determined, almost scowling. She adjusted well her swimming cap. Took a deep breath. Breathed long, as if she were preparing to meditate.
Okay. The moment had really come.
Resolute and frowning, lips clenched, nose curled, she headed for the sea.
Towards Trip.
She did not stop when reached the water, did not even slow down. Penetrated it as an express train, raising splashes all around.
It was true, it was warm. A lot. Did not give any cold feeling.
A step. Fast. Another. And another. Less fast, in that medium so strange, that offered resistance, hindering her walking, and yet was yielding, was allowing her path.
Another yet, even slower. Another. There! She was in the arms of Trip.
They held her tightly, in the promised embrace, and she clung to him, to his wet body.
She lifted her face to look at him.
He gave her no time. He kissed her.
And she tasted the salt of the sea on his lips, as she responded to his kiss.
While the sea played jocosely around her thighs.
"Now ... magic!"
T'Pol wasn't able to hear well, to understand, what Trip was saying to her, even with all the acute hearing she had. Something as "Magic", it seemed to her, but she wasn't sure. Certainly it was something not easy to do, as she was fluctuating that way, belly up, all surrounded by the water, which practically submerged her almost completely, letting it only emerge over her face and her bosom together with the top of her abdomen and of her pelvis, while her arms and her legs were spread apart and floated limply on the surface of the sea. Her eyes were closed, how Trip had asked her, and she had succeeded in completely abandoning herself, just as Trip had told her to do, relying with complete confidence upon his arms, that held her up from beneath, from underwater.
When they had hugged and kissed each other, just when T'Pol had reached Trip in the water, he, still kissing and holding her tight to him, had begun to walk backwards, slowly, backwards proceeding into the sea little by little together with her, who, with eyes closed, tight in his arms, her mouth on his, had let herself be conducted that way, until the water had come up to her breast.
At that moment Trip had stopped and had detached his lips from hers. He had stared at her eyes, now open on his. Had smiled to her. Gently. Had spoken to her. Softly. "Here we are, my darling. Now, trust me."
He had interrupted the embrace and gone a step back, looking at her again with the sweetest of smiles, leaving her alone, standing, with her feet resting on the seabed.
She had had trusted him and his love. She had no fear, with him. With him, she could even have no fear to admit that she had fear. She could do anything, with him. Even stay there, motionless, standing, unsteady and unsecure, in the middle of all that water, like no Vulcan who was not her - her, who had Trip – could or would ever do, unless forced to do so and, in this case, desperately trying not to betray all his insecurity and his discomfort, although… shitting his trousers with fear, how Trip would have said, with his irreverent sarcasm and... rather colourful.
And, honestly, T'Pol could not say he wouldn't have been correct. It was really necessary all the love she felt for him, to do what she had done, namely being standing without his reassuring support, alone, surrounded by all that water, and, even more so what she was doing now, namely staying so, floating, on all that water, substantially engulfed by all that water.
But she loved her T'hai'la, as well as he loved her. So, she had loved to do what she had done, and - and this was the true expression of the love that bound them - she liked very much what she was doing, now. And the way with which he was making her do it, the way with which he had induced her to do so.
After having left her, standing there, alone, in the middle of the water, he had made some steps around her, while she was following him with her eyes, turning her face toward him and the water was moving gently due to his motions. He had stopped at her side, had looked archly at her and then had moved again, approaching her up to skim her. He had stopped again. Had nodded with determination. Had looked like if he were attempting to position himself on his legs well and carefully. "Quiet, my love," had said. Had inspired deeply. And, curling up on himself, had disappeared under water.
She had seen him go down with a little apprehension, then… she had felt his arms behind her, against her thighs and against her back, and, in the space of a second, she had felt herself be raised. With ease.
She had found herself being lifted on his arms, in midwater, like a bride held on the arms of her groom. Her arms had clutched to his neck and she had looked at him, a little mislaid, and he, still smiling half gently half slyly, dripping with salt water and with the blond hair drenched and shining in the sun... "Now, close your eyes and relax, my love. And remember, trust me."
And so she had done.
She had felt herself raised a little more yet, and had felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, in front.
"Let go my neck, Hon."
And so she had done.
"Make as if you were resting on your back and spread your arms and legs, as if you were lying on a bed."
And so she had done.
"Abandon yourself, darlin'. Trust me. Trust me, my love."
And so she had done.
"Open your eyes, my love."
And so she had done. And she had found herself looking at the sky, and floating, belly up, on the quiet surface of the sea, just supported from behind by his arms, very slightly, almost as if they weren't doing it, as if they there were not.
"Did you see, sweetheart? Cool, huh? Stay so, do not move, be quiet, we are making good progress. Only a small step yet. Close your eyes again, my love."
And so she had done, relishing the new and pleasant sensation, letting the water rock her and cover her, so that she was not able to hear clearly Trip's last words.
She lifted her head a little, still eye-closed, in that delicious play, so that her ears could be able to listen to him.
His voice, again. This time she heard well. It was clearer, although seemed a little less close. It rang both cheerful and malicious. "You can open your eyes again, Hon."
And she did. And she saw the luminous sky again.
But she didn't see him at her side, looking at her from above, as before.
She rolled her eyes with circumspection. She saw him. He was no longer close to her, was slightly departed. Surrounded by the water up to his chest, he was looking at her with a sly smirk, lips closed and eyes shining with cunningness.
And with his arms underwater, as before, but… in the position typical of her, behind his back. The arms that she suddenly realized she no longer felt beneath her.
"Magic performed, babe."
She... she was floating alone! Trip was no longer sustaining her! This was ... this was ... magic! Yes! Yes, sure! But... but...
T'Pol did not have time to get flustered, to get disarranged. Trip was immediately next to her, his arms were again immediately below her. "No, no, Hon! You have seen what you can do, you've seen it, didn't you?"
He smiled to her with pride. And love. "You can do it, sweetie."
His eyes laughed. "You know very well how to move in empty space. Water is like the void, but it is more friend than the cold space, darlin'. Water does not betray you, if you trust it. Never. It supports you. It goes along with you. Simply..." - His hands started to leave her again – "... you too have to go along with the water."
Now T'Pol was alone again. Trip had again drawn away from her, even if very little, so little that she was perfectly able to see his face. He was staring at her. Meaningfully. With love. And pride. As she floated. Alone. Knowing – this time perfectly aware - that she was floating alone, without his help.
"Thus, my love, yes, like that. Without fear. With the courage and the skilfulness and the smartness that are your own. The water does not submerge you, merely it caresses you, covering you with sweetness and then withdrawing with the same sweetness. You must just go along with it. You… must breathe with the water."
Trip's eyes were exploding with pride and joy. "Yes, my sweetheart, my darling, my love. You have to breathe along with the water. You taught me how to breathe to go along with the meditation. Now, let water teach you how to breathe to go along with it. Breathe with the water."
Yes, she knew she could. She exhaled and she went down, and the water covered her - caressed her - gently. Then she inhaled and she went up, and the water retreated. Gently.
And again. And again. And again.
And she floated. Abandoned to water. The "friend" water.
And it was marvellous.
"Isn't it marvellous, my love?"
T'Pol's voice rose, finally, from amid the water that, connive and accomplice, was placidly sustaining her, breathing with her. She spoke for the first time since she had entered the sea.
She spoke to the blue sky above her, to the friend water around her.
To her T'hai'la, forever inside her.
"Yes, Trip. It's marvellous."
T'Pol wasn't able to hear well, to understand, what Trip was saying to her, even with all the acute hearing she had. Something as "Magic", it seemed to her, but she wasn't sure. Certainly it was something not easy to do, as she was fluctuating that way, belly up, all surrounded by the water, which practically submerged her almost completely, letting it only emerge over her face and her bosom together with the top of her abdomen and of her pelvis, while her arms and her legs were spread apart and floated limply on the surface of the sea. Her eyes were closed, how Trip had asked her, and she had succeeded in completely abandoning herself, just as Trip had told her to do, relying with complete confidence upon his arms, that held her up from beneath, from underwater.
When they had hugged and kissed each other, just when T'Pol had reached Trip in the water, he, still kissing and holding her tight to him, had begun to walk backwards, slowly, backwards proceeding into the sea little by little together with her, who, with eyes closed, tight in his arms, her mouth on his, had let herself be conducted that way, until the water had come up to her breast.
At that moment Trip had stopped and had detached his lips from hers. He had stared at her eyes, now open on his. Had smiled to her. Gently. Had spoken to her. Softly. "Here we are, my darling. Now, trust me."
He had interrupted the embrace and gone a step back, looking at her again with the sweetest of smiles, leaving her alone, standing, with her feet resting on the seabed.
She had had trusted him and his love. She had no fear, with him. With him, she could even have no fear to admit that she had fear. She could do anything, with him. Even stay there, motionless, standing, unsteady and unsecure, in the middle of all that water, like no Vulcan who was not her - her, who had Trip – could or would ever do, unless forced to do so and, in this case, desperately trying not to betray all his insecurity and his discomfort, although… shitting his trousers with fear, how Trip would have said, with his irreverent sarcasm and... rather colourful.
And, honestly, T'Pol could not say he wouldn't have been correct. It was really necessary all the love she felt for him, to do what she had done, namely being standing without his reassuring support, alone, surrounded by all that water, and, even more so what she was doing now, namely staying so, floating, on all that water, substantially engulfed by all that water.
But she loved her T'hai'la, as well as he loved her. So, she had loved to do what she had done, and - and this was the true expression of the love that bound them - she liked very much what she was doing, now. And the way with which he was making her do it, the way with which he had induced her to do so.
After having left her, standing there, alone, in the middle of the water, he had made some steps around her, while she was following him with her eyes, turning her face toward him and the water was moving gently due to his motions. He had stopped at her side, had looked archly at her and then had moved again, approaching her up to skim her. He had stopped again. Had nodded with determination. Had looked like if he were attempting to position himself on his legs well and carefully. "Quiet, my love," had said. Had inspired deeply. And, curling up on himself, had disappeared under water.
She had seen him go down with a little apprehension, then… she had felt his arms behind her, against her thighs and against her back, and, in the space of a second, she had felt herself be raised. With ease.
She had found herself being lifted on his arms, in midwater, like a bride held on the arms of her groom. Her arms had clutched to his neck and she had looked at him, a little mislaid, and he, still smiling half gently half slyly, dripping with salt water and with the blond hair drenched and shining in the sun... "Now, close your eyes and relax, my love. And remember, trust me."
And so she had done.
She had felt herself raised a little more yet, and had felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, in front.
"Let go my neck, Hon."
And so she had done.
"Make as if you were resting on your back and spread your arms and legs, as if you were lying on a bed."
And so she had done.
"Abandon yourself, darlin'. Trust me. Trust me, my love."
And so she had done.
"Open your eyes, my love."
And so she had done. And she had found herself looking at the sky, and floating, belly up, on the quiet surface of the sea, just supported from behind by his arms, very slightly, almost as if they weren't doing it, as if they there were not.
"Did you see, sweetheart? Cool, huh? Stay so, do not move, be quiet, we are making good progress. Only a small step yet. Close your eyes again, my love."
And so she had done, relishing the new and pleasant sensation, letting the water rock her and cover her, so that she was not able to hear clearly Trip's last words.
She lifted her head a little, still eye-closed, in that delicious play, so that her ears could be able to listen to him.
His voice, again. This time she heard well. It was clearer, although seemed a little less close. It rang both cheerful and malicious. "You can open your eyes again, Hon."
And she did. And she saw the luminous sky again.
But she didn't see him at her side, looking at her from above, as before.
She rolled her eyes with circumspection. She saw him. He was no longer close to her, was slightly departed. Surrounded by the water up to his chest, he was looking at her with a sly smirk, lips closed and eyes shining with cunningness.
And with his arms underwater, as before, but… in the position typical of her, behind his back. The arms that she suddenly realized she no longer felt beneath her.
"Magic performed, babe."
She... she was floating alone! Trip was no longer sustaining her! This was ... this was ... magic! Yes! Yes, sure! But... but...
T'Pol did not have time to get flustered, to get disarranged. Trip was immediately next to her, his arms were again immediately below her. "No, no, Hon! You have seen what you can do, you've seen it, didn't you?"
He smiled to her with pride. And love. "You can do it, sweetie."
His eyes laughed. "You know very well how to move in empty space. Water is like the void, but it is more friend than the cold space, darlin'. Water does not betray you, if you trust it. Never. It supports you. It goes along with you. Simply..." - His hands started to leave her again – "... you too have to go along with the water."
Now T'Pol was alone again. Trip had again drawn away from her, even if very little, so little that she was perfectly able to see his face. He was staring at her. Meaningfully. With love. And pride. As she floated. Alone. Knowing – this time perfectly aware - that she was floating alone, without his help.
"Thus, my love, yes, like that. Without fear. With the courage and the skilfulness and the smartness that are your own. The water does not submerge you, merely it caresses you, covering you with sweetness and then withdrawing with the same sweetness. You must just go along with it. You… must breathe with the water."
Trip's eyes were exploding with pride and joy. "Yes, my sweetheart, my darling, my love. You have to breathe along with the water. You taught me how to breathe to go along with the meditation. Now, let water teach you how to breathe to go along with it. Breathe with the water."
Yes, she knew she could. She exhaled and she went down, and the water covered her - caressed her - gently. Then she inhaled and she went up, and the water retreated. Gently.
And again. And again. And again.
And she floated. Abandoned to water. The "friend" water.
And it was marvellous.
"Isn't it marvellous, my love?"
T'Pol's voice rose, finally, from amid the water that, connive and accomplice, was placidly sustaining her, breathing with her. She spoke for the first time since she had entered the sea.
She spoke to the blue sky above her, to the friend water around her.
To her T'hai'la, forever inside her.
"Yes, Trip. It's marvellous."
"You are marvellous, sweety!"
Well, it will have been not too much Vulcan, but T'Pol could not help but get kindled with pride at hearing her man speak to her in this way, make her a so brazen compliment.
Oh, ahem, to tell the truth, it was quite a while now that she had come to the conclusion that there was nothing wrong, indeed that there was a lot of good, in being proud of the verbal demonstrations of love and appreciation that her Trip was in the habit of addressing so often to her.
The only problem was ... well, yes, that sometimes he forgot not to speak to her like that when they were not alone.
Rather embarrassing. But, all in all, - T'Pol smiled to herself, in a damn human way, useless to deny - not at all unpleasant.
This time, though... well, this time, it was really special. This time her T'hai'la had ... oh well, yes, really! He had every reason to make her such a compliment! It was exactly like that. Why being unreasonably and illogically reluctant in admitting the great value of her feat? Why not be justifiably proud? And why not be proud of the pride her Trip felt for her? He was her Trip, exactly that, her T'hai'la, her Ashayam, and the feelings he had for her could not be treated as things of no importance. They were important to her. Certainly, her Trip had been the engine, the primary cause of her success. Not for nothing, eh, not for nothing Trip was her Trip. But this certainly didn't take off any merit from her, didn't minimally cheapen what she had done, before, at the beginning of her swimming lesson, and even more so, what she was doing… now.
At first she had - how had Trip said it? - had floated in the manner of a dead man. Hum, no. In the manner of a dead woman. She had fluctuated - alone - on her back, on the water surface, had let the water teach her how to breathe, had gone along with water.
She had learned, and very swiftly, not to be wary of the water, not to be troubled by the way it wrapped her, to appreciate, even to enjoy, its enveloping caress.
Then, her T'hai'la...
...............
"Feet on the ground ... Oh, er, on the bottom, babe. Next step of the swimming lesson. After the magic, the practice of reality."
...............
Without problems, - T'Pol smiled again to herself. She was sure that Trip would have said: with her usual and natural skill and elegance - she had straightened and had placed her feet on the seabed. Now she had understood well. It was true, Trip was absolutely right: it was like moving in the void, with the very advantageous difference that in the water you could also rely on the resistance offered by the water itself, so as to move, whereas in the void, you could only be based on the contortions of your body and, without the proper tools, you are condemned to impotence of the immobility, or worse, to be helpless prey of the force of inertia.
The problem, in water, was that you had to understand with readiness and prompt perspicacity what were the movements to do to take advantage of the water resistance for the purpose of your movements themselves.
Not perfectly and immediately feasible, this, for a Vulcan like her, not exactly inclined - to speak euphemistically - to rely on such a medium. Illogical to deny it: between her breed and the open waters there was bad blood, Trip would have said. And, in addition, it was also necessary to understand how to breathe - or not to breathe - so as not to get caught off guard by the water. But, this, in a sense, it was easier for her and more spontaneous. Even in this, Trip was right: the breathing techniques that she had learned in her Vulcan training were perfect for this purpose.
And then, let's not forget: there was her Trip, there, with her.
And with him… - T'Pol told herself again, with understandable pride and satisfaction - …with him she could do it all.
Also...
...........................
"Okay, baby, now, your eyes fixed on mine and your hands in mine. Perfect, this way. Now, listen well to what I say and follow what I do. And… no fear."
He had not given her time to be able to worry about what was behind that no fear. He had thrown himself back and had begun to swim belly up, moving only his feet and dragging her with him, his face raised so as to be able to watch hers. Eh, her Trip was really good in the water.
But she was not! And finding herself suddenly that way in the water, belly down, dragged forward by him, who was swimming backwards, she above and a little lag behind him, and he below... well, it hadn't been… just a trifle.
"No fear, I said! Listen to me! Follow what I do!, he had shouted, as she had started to get flustered and was in risk of dragging him underwater with her. Keep your legs up and your body horizontal. You can do it! Come on!"
She had succeeded. She did not know exactly how, but she had made it.
"Very well. Now, listen to me, Hon. You have been able to touch with your hand that water can sustain you, but, to really swim, you have to dominate the water. You mustn't merely make sure to be passively sustained by water; you must force water to sustain you always and in every case"
A smirk, in his eyes. "So, babe... fear not!"
And he had left her. Unexpectedly, suddenly and without warning. To the point that she hadn't been able to attempt any sort of grasp.
She had gasped.
They had turned away from the shore now. No longer the safety of the close seabed on which to rest her feet!
"Move! Be smooth! Be nimble! Be limber! Do not stiffen! Do not be dominated by water. Dominate it! Move your legs! Move your arms! Move your hands! Move yourself like hell you want! You can not sink if you do not want to!"
And she had made it! Yes! She had made it! Disorderly and higgledy-piggledy at first, excitedly, then more confidently, more and more confidently, until in the end she had found herself almost sitting in the water, floating, her feet unable to touch the seabed, not at all near, under her, sustained by the water itself and by the slight and yet strong – and precise - movements of her limbs and her body.
And also coughing and spitting a little convulsively, reacting to ... well, Trip had told her that she would have inevitably been drinking. But, Surak! How much she had been drinking! And how it was salty, the sea water!
But how good it was all this! It was marvellous!
Next to her, close to her, her Trip, of whom only the head emerged from the sea. Like for her. Her T'hai'la, who was swimming, was fluctuating, in lightness and freedom. Like her.
Her Ashayam, who was looking at her with adoring eyes and proud.
Who said...
...........................
"You are marvellous, sweety!"
Well, it will have been not too much Vulcan, but T'Pol could not help but get kindled with pride at hearing her man speak to her in this way, make her a so brazen compliment.
Oh, ahem, to tell the truth, it was quite a while now that she had come to the conclusion that there was nothing wrong, indeed that there was a lot of good, in being proud of the verbal demonstrations of love and appreciation that her Trip was in the habit of addressing so often to her.
The only problem was ... well, yes, that sometimes he forgot not to speak to her like that when they were not alone.
Rather embarrassing. But, all in all, - T'Pol smiled to herself, in a damn human way, useless to deny - not at all unpleasant.
This time, though... well, this time, it was really special. This time her T'hai'la had ... oh well, yes, really! He had every reason to make her such a compliment! It was exactly like that. Why being unreasonably and illogically reluctant in admitting the great value of her feat? Why not be justifiably proud? And why not be proud of the pride her Trip felt for her? He was her Trip, exactly that, her T'hai'la, her Ashayam, and the feelings he had for her could not be treated as things of no importance. They were important to her. Certainly, her Trip had been the engine, the primary cause of her success. Not for nothing, eh, not for nothing Trip was her Trip. But this certainly didn't take off any merit from her, didn't minimally cheapen what she had done, before, at the beginning of her swimming lesson, and even more so, what she was doing… now.
At first she had - how had Trip said it? - had floated in the manner of a dead man. Hum, no. In the manner of a dead woman. She had fluctuated - alone - on her back, on the water surface, had let the water teach her how to breathe, had gone along with water.
She had learned, and very swiftly, not to be wary of the water, not to be troubled by the way it wrapped her, to appreciate, even to enjoy, its enveloping caress.
Then, her T'hai'la...
...............
"Feet on the ground ... Oh, er, on the bottom, babe. Next step of the swimming lesson. After the magic, the practice of reality."
...............
Without problems, - T'Pol smiled again to herself. She was sure that Trip would have said: with her usual and natural skill and elegance - she had straightened and had placed her feet on the seabed. Now she had understood well. It was true, Trip was absolutely right: it was like moving in the void, with the very advantageous difference that in the water you could also rely on the resistance offered by the water itself, so as to move, whereas in the void, you could only be based on the contortions of your body and, without the proper tools, you are condemned to impotence of the immobility, or worse, to be helpless prey of the force of inertia.
The problem, in water, was that you had to understand with readiness and prompt perspicacity what were the movements to do to take advantage of the water resistance for the purpose of your movements themselves.
Not perfectly and immediately feasible, this, for a Vulcan like her, not exactly inclined - to speak euphemistically - to rely on such a medium. Illogical to deny it: between her breed and the open waters there was bad blood, Trip would have said. And, in addition, it was also necessary to understand how to breathe - or not to breathe - so as not to get caught off guard by the water. But, this, in a sense, it was easier for her and more spontaneous. Even in this, Trip was right: the breathing techniques that she had learned in her Vulcan training were perfect for this purpose.
And then, let's not forget: there was her Trip, there, with her.
And with him… - T'Pol told herself again, with understandable pride and satisfaction - …with him she could do it all.
Also...
...........................
"Okay, baby, now, your eyes fixed on mine and your hands in mine. Perfect, this way. Now, listen well to what I say and follow what I do. And… no fear."
He had not given her time to be able to worry about what was behind that no fear. He had thrown himself back and had begun to swim belly up, moving only his feet and dragging her with him, his face raised so as to be able to watch hers. Eh, her Trip was really good in the water.
But she was not! And finding herself suddenly that way in the water, belly down, dragged forward by him, who was swimming backwards, she above and a little lag behind him, and he below... well, it hadn't been… just a trifle.
"No fear, I said! Listen to me! Follow what I do!, he had shouted, as she had started to get flustered and was in risk of dragging him underwater with her. Keep your legs up and your body horizontal. You can do it! Come on!"
She had succeeded. She did not know exactly how, but she had made it.
"Very well. Now, listen to me, Hon. You have been able to touch with your hand that water can sustain you, but, to really swim, you have to dominate the water. You mustn't merely make sure to be passively sustained by water; you must force water to sustain you always and in every case"
A smirk, in his eyes. "So, babe... fear not!"
And he had left her. Unexpectedly, suddenly and without warning. To the point that she hadn't been able to attempt any sort of grasp.
She had gasped.
They had turned away from the shore now. No longer the safety of the close seabed on which to rest her feet!
"Move! Be smooth! Be nimble! Be limber! Do not stiffen! Do not be dominated by water. Dominate it! Move your legs! Move your arms! Move your hands! Move yourself like hell you want! You can not sink if you do not want to!"
And she had made it! Yes! She had made it! Disorderly and higgledy-piggledy at first, excitedly, then more confidently, more and more confidently, until in the end she had found herself almost sitting in the water, floating, her feet unable to touch the seabed, not at all near, under her, sustained by the water itself and by the slight and yet strong – and precise - movements of her limbs and her body.
And also coughing and spitting a little convulsively, reacting to ... well, Trip had told her that she would have inevitably been drinking. But, Surak! How much she had been drinking! And how it was salty, the sea water!
But how good it was all this! It was marvellous!
Next to her, close to her, her Trip, of whom only the head emerged from the sea. Like for her. Her T'hai'la, who was swimming, was fluctuating, in lightness and freedom. Like her.
Her Ashayam, who was looking at her with adoring eyes and proud.
Who said...
...........................
"You are marvellous, sweety!"
"Do you refer by chance to that which you define as my awfully feminine and amazingly succulent 'curves' ?"
A little of understandable puzzled wonder, at first, then ... "Ah ah ah, yes! That is, no! But, yes, yes, of course. I mean, that your curves are an ambulant wonder, well, that's sure, it is a fact. However, my prickly delight, the wonder to which I was referring, in this case ..." - Trip made a wriggle in the water and came rapidly over to T'Pol until his nose practically rubbed against hers. "The wonder is you! What you do. What you are capable of doing. What you are. What you are to me. You are marvellous, T'Pol!"
Trip made suddenly a wheelie, literally, strongly emerging from the water up to his waist.
T'Pol, who had just learned to overcome her distrust for deep and open water, who - amazingly, considering the breed she belonged to - was swimming (yes, exactly that!) and was even taking pleasure from staying immersed in the water, looked at him with a gaze that couldn't not betray her proud admiration; the admiration imbued with legitimate pride, because that man was hers, was her man; the admiration that warmed her heart and that she was no longer trying to hide inanely from him and above all to herself. Surak, how he was good in the water! As well as in space. And in his machine room. And wherever! How many things were hidden under his jocular and apparently naive way of being! What a very great lot of very good reasons she had of being proud of him! Of having him. Of being his woman.
Trip fell again back down into the sea, disappearing below. Reappeared. His head, his smiling face, emerged, bursting out of the water. He looked smirking at her. Darted back. Stopped. Bent forward. His head and his body sank into the water, only his back cropping out. Practically at the same time his legs went up, stood on end, emerging, upright, with feet up. And, without substantially the water being moved, he sank, went under. Like a torpedo. Head down.
T'Pol looked around, a little troubled, exploring the sea surface, now just barely frizzy because of the contortions that Trip had made, which had closed above him.
A few moments passed. The surface returned absolutely quiet. An… an oil. And of Trip, not even the shadow. Where ... Where the… Where the hell? ... T'Pol felt illogically anxious.
A tenuous noise, beside her, like as a sort of churning. She turned quickly her head. A mouth, moist and yet hot, on hers. Well known.
Smack!
"Trip!"
His laughter rang out high on the water.
"You are marvellous, T'Pol!"
And he threw back, laughing happy and joyful, playing in the water and with water.
And with her.
T'Pol looked at him furtively, as he was cheerfully pirouetting in the water, her arched and thin eyebrows slightly frowning.
She evaluated.
Her analytical and photographic Vulcan mind had recorded every movement Trip had made.
Her confidence on and of the water had considerably increased, even in that short time.
She had a great capacity of control of her body, by nature and by her hard training.
She knew very well how to control her breath.
Her Trip repeated to her at every single step, saying in his own words, namely on every occasion, that she was a… crackerjack. And he never lied.
So, could it be done?
Her lips moved imperceptibly into a smile. Very, very human. Very, very Trip-like.
She tested mentally her body, her neo-acquired ability to move in the water, to dominate it.
It could be done.
Her slight smile became a little more evident, more marked, resembling more and more those that were usually printed on his T'hai'la's mouth when he was about to turn one of his tricks behind her back.
It had to be done.
She inspired deeply. How Trip had done it.
She bent forward. How Trip had done it.
She pulled up her legs. How Trip had done it.
She floated on the water, horizontally, belly down. How Trip had done it.
She threw down her head and shoulders. How Trip had done it.
The unknown world that lay beneath the surface appeared to her eyes.
It was weird, but her eyes seemed easily able enough to bear that strange, distorted, inaccurate, bluish vision, indeed, to tell the truth, it was nice; Trip had been right about the - how did he say? - the magical atmosphere of the underwater world. And even her ears, after all, seemed to fare quite well, at least at that exiguous depth, despite the fastidious rumble that in that so highly conductive medium throbbed against her sensitive eardrums. The olfaction ... oh well, the delicious, entrancing scent of her Trip, by now firmly and perpetually present in her nose, into her nostrils, put her sense of smell safe from any danger.
She wasted no time.
The highly operational and extremely controlled connection between her orderly memory, her well set mind and her exercised body began to function. Perfectly.
Her body obeyed.
Her legs rose, straight, feet aloft, while the front part of her body disappeared under water.
As if by magic she sank. Like a torpedo. Head down.
A little of understandable puzzled wonder, at first, then ... "Ah ah ah, yes! That is, no! But, yes, yes, of course. I mean, that your curves are an ambulant wonder, well, that's sure, it is a fact. However, my prickly delight, the wonder to which I was referring, in this case ..." - Trip made a wriggle in the water and came rapidly over to T'Pol until his nose practically rubbed against hers. "The wonder is you! What you do. What you are capable of doing. What you are. What you are to me. You are marvellous, T'Pol!"
Trip made suddenly a wheelie, literally, strongly emerging from the water up to his waist.
T'Pol, who had just learned to overcome her distrust for deep and open water, who - amazingly, considering the breed she belonged to - was swimming (yes, exactly that!) and was even taking pleasure from staying immersed in the water, looked at him with a gaze that couldn't not betray her proud admiration; the admiration imbued with legitimate pride, because that man was hers, was her man; the admiration that warmed her heart and that she was no longer trying to hide inanely from him and above all to herself. Surak, how he was good in the water! As well as in space. And in his machine room. And wherever! How many things were hidden under his jocular and apparently naive way of being! What a very great lot of very good reasons she had of being proud of him! Of having him. Of being his woman.
Trip fell again back down into the sea, disappearing below. Reappeared. His head, his smiling face, emerged, bursting out of the water. He looked smirking at her. Darted back. Stopped. Bent forward. His head and his body sank into the water, only his back cropping out. Practically at the same time his legs went up, stood on end, emerging, upright, with feet up. And, without substantially the water being moved, he sank, went under. Like a torpedo. Head down.
T'Pol looked around, a little troubled, exploring the sea surface, now just barely frizzy because of the contortions that Trip had made, which had closed above him.
A few moments passed. The surface returned absolutely quiet. An… an oil. And of Trip, not even the shadow. Where ... Where the… Where the hell? ... T'Pol felt illogically anxious.
A tenuous noise, beside her, like as a sort of churning. She turned quickly her head. A mouth, moist and yet hot, on hers. Well known.
Smack!
"Trip!"
His laughter rang out high on the water.
"You are marvellous, T'Pol!"
And he threw back, laughing happy and joyful, playing in the water and with water.
And with her.
T'Pol looked at him furtively, as he was cheerfully pirouetting in the water, her arched and thin eyebrows slightly frowning.
She evaluated.
Her analytical and photographic Vulcan mind had recorded every movement Trip had made.
Her confidence on and of the water had considerably increased, even in that short time.
She had a great capacity of control of her body, by nature and by her hard training.
She knew very well how to control her breath.
Her Trip repeated to her at every single step, saying in his own words, namely on every occasion, that she was a… crackerjack. And he never lied.
So, could it be done?
Her lips moved imperceptibly into a smile. Very, very human. Very, very Trip-like.
She tested mentally her body, her neo-acquired ability to move in the water, to dominate it.
It could be done.
Her slight smile became a little more evident, more marked, resembling more and more those that were usually printed on his T'hai'la's mouth when he was about to turn one of his tricks behind her back.
It had to be done.
She inspired deeply. How Trip had done it.
She bent forward. How Trip had done it.
She pulled up her legs. How Trip had done it.
She floated on the water, horizontally, belly down. How Trip had done it.
She threw down her head and shoulders. How Trip had done it.
The unknown world that lay beneath the surface appeared to her eyes.
It was weird, but her eyes seemed easily able enough to bear that strange, distorted, inaccurate, bluish vision, indeed, to tell the truth, it was nice; Trip had been right about the - how did he say? - the magical atmosphere of the underwater world. And even her ears, after all, seemed to fare quite well, at least at that exiguous depth, despite the fastidious rumble that in that so highly conductive medium throbbed against her sensitive eardrums. The olfaction ... oh well, the delicious, entrancing scent of her Trip, by now firmly and perpetually present in her nose, into her nostrils, put her sense of smell safe from any danger.
She wasted no time.
The highly operational and extremely controlled connection between her orderly memory, her well set mind and her exercised body began to function. Perfectly.
Her body obeyed.
Her legs rose, straight, feet aloft, while the front part of her body disappeared under water.
As if by magic she sank. Like a torpedo. Head down.
"T'Pol!"
Trip froze his water dance of cheerful elation.
Where ... where? ...
Fool! Idiot! Stupid!
He had lost sight of her! He had been distracted! And she ... she...
Where was she? Under...under?...
But how could he have been so moronic?
She had just learned to move in the water, and he ... he...
He cried out in despair, his voice cracking. "T'Pol! Darling! Hon! T'Pol!"
The surface of the sea was practically motionless and ... and empty!
Down! Down! Quickly! Quickly!
He didn't have time.
A tenuous noise, beside him, like as a sort of churning. He turned quickly his head. A mouth, moist and yet hot, on his. Well known.
Smack!
"T'Pol!"
The wonderful silvery sound of her laughter that he had known for the first time the night before rang out high on the water.
Trip gasped, almost risked drowning.
He coughed, spat out salt water, floundered and finally managed to recover in some way.
Eyes wide open and fixed on the quiet and sassy T'Pol's face, emerging from the water just in front of him; terribly agitated; in a shrill voice, he succeeded at last in articulating "T'Pol! You ... you ... you ... you are ... you are ..."
The controlled and decidedly fluty voice of T'Pol interrupted him. Slightly panting, to tell the truth. It hadn't been exactly a trifle, rolling over under water and emerging in that way. Things were absolutely not the same, down there, and the orientation was far from easy, not to mention she had had to invent her own movements, letting herself be guided, and in an environment really foreign to her, by something to which Vulcans were anything but wont and willing to resort, the instinct. She would not even remotely have thought to do such a thing before, namely before Trip had entered so deeply and indelibly in her veins and in her spirit. Be that as it may, she had made it. And the game had been worth the candle.
"I am… marvellous, Ashayam?"
For a moment, Trip did not know what to say or do. His eyes - horrified, that's the word - were blocked into those - Mocking! Mocking, damnit! Slyly mocking! - of T'Pol.
Then his mouth has been finally able to close. His eyes lit up. And they laughed. Literally. Relieved. And happy. And full of love.
His hand emerged from the water and went to tenderly caress T'Pol's cheek.
"Marvellous? No, I do not think so. You're more than marvellous. You are the marvel of marvels, Hon. However, T'Pol ..." His voice dropped, almost cracked. T'Pol clearly saw that his eyes grew moist, and not as a result of the ambience damp. "…The stupid brainless unwary between the two of us, it's me, T'Pol. Do nevermore steal from me the role, okay?"
T'Pol felt ... guilty! "Ashayam ..."
"Okay, T'Pol?"
T'Pol rubbed her cheek against Trip's fingers. "Okay, T'hai'la."
"Very well." Trip managed to recompose himself. "Now, about your swimming lesson..."
"T'hai'la, do not you believe that I have given sufficient proof that I have learned enough to allow you to hug and kiss me, in the water and under the water?"
"Darlin'..."
"And maybe to do something more than merely this?"
Trip froze his water dance of cheerful elation.
Where ... where? ...
Fool! Idiot! Stupid!
He had lost sight of her! He had been distracted! And she ... she...
Where was she? Under...under?...
But how could he have been so moronic?
She had just learned to move in the water, and he ... he...
He cried out in despair, his voice cracking. "T'Pol! Darling! Hon! T'Pol!"
The surface of the sea was practically motionless and ... and empty!
Down! Down! Quickly! Quickly!
He didn't have time.
A tenuous noise, beside him, like as a sort of churning. He turned quickly his head. A mouth, moist and yet hot, on his. Well known.
Smack!
"T'Pol!"
The wonderful silvery sound of her laughter that he had known for the first time the night before rang out high on the water.
Trip gasped, almost risked drowning.
He coughed, spat out salt water, floundered and finally managed to recover in some way.
Eyes wide open and fixed on the quiet and sassy T'Pol's face, emerging from the water just in front of him; terribly agitated; in a shrill voice, he succeeded at last in articulating "T'Pol! You ... you ... you ... you are ... you are ..."
The controlled and decidedly fluty voice of T'Pol interrupted him. Slightly panting, to tell the truth. It hadn't been exactly a trifle, rolling over under water and emerging in that way. Things were absolutely not the same, down there, and the orientation was far from easy, not to mention she had had to invent her own movements, letting herself be guided, and in an environment really foreign to her, by something to which Vulcans were anything but wont and willing to resort, the instinct. She would not even remotely have thought to do such a thing before, namely before Trip had entered so deeply and indelibly in her veins and in her spirit. Be that as it may, she had made it. And the game had been worth the candle.
"I am… marvellous, Ashayam?"
For a moment, Trip did not know what to say or do. His eyes - horrified, that's the word - were blocked into those - Mocking! Mocking, damnit! Slyly mocking! - of T'Pol.
Then his mouth has been finally able to close. His eyes lit up. And they laughed. Literally. Relieved. And happy. And full of love.
His hand emerged from the water and went to tenderly caress T'Pol's cheek.
"Marvellous? No, I do not think so. You're more than marvellous. You are the marvel of marvels, Hon. However, T'Pol ..." His voice dropped, almost cracked. T'Pol clearly saw that his eyes grew moist, and not as a result of the ambience damp. "…The stupid brainless unwary between the two of us, it's me, T'Pol. Do nevermore steal from me the role, okay?"
T'Pol felt ... guilty! "Ashayam ..."
"Okay, T'Pol?"
T'Pol rubbed her cheek against Trip's fingers. "Okay, T'hai'la."
"Very well." Trip managed to recompose himself. "Now, about your swimming lesson..."
"T'hai'la, do not you believe that I have given sufficient proof that I have learned enough to allow you to hug and kiss me, in the water and under the water?"
"Darlin'..."
"And maybe to do something more than merely this?"
End of Chapter One
Well, this time, my friends, let me not to put any comment as a gloss of this chapter.
I think, in all honesty, that this picture is more than enough.
I think, in all honesty, that this picture is more than enough.
Do you know? It seems, as my ancestor says, that it has been taken to T'Pol by Trip, a few days later her first swimming lesson.
Damn it! These Vulcan girls are really a wrath of God!
Oh maybe, just T'Pol?
Well, I think that it is worth to find out more. Do you agree, my friends?
Yes?
Okay, in this case, click on the image below and you can read what happened next ... that is, I mean ... you can read the second chapter of this fanfiction.
Of course, what else if not?
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COPYRIGHT 2013 © Asso - [email protected]
COPYRIGHT 2013 © Asso - [email protected]