Devil Doghouse

Posted on Fri Nov 10th, 2017 @ 6:44pm by Lieutenant JG Jaya Maera Garlake & Lieutenant Colonel Storr Garlake
Edited on on Fri Nov 10th, 2017 @ 6:45pm

2,252 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Mission 0: Everybody Has A Story
Location: USS Vindex
Timeline: 2388

Marines. Jaya tried to maintain objectivity in the performance of her duties. All biases, prejudices, and preconceived ideas had to be left at the door of the counseling room. However... her experience among most Marine detachments left little to be desired for repeat experiences. Still, these soldiers were among the bravest and most dedicated souls she had ever known and formed a vital if underappreciated part of Starfleet. Part of her knew it was not fair to condemn less mature species for their sexual prowess or their difficulty suppressing it around her and other Deltans, and she always tried to listen to that voice. It just became drowned out by some of the more...mentally boisterous... marines she had encountered.

A strict and solid MCO was a vital asset in such matters. No matter what, she would do her duty and ensure the mental health of everyone on board. It would just ease her burden if she knew that the Marine Captain would resolve discipline problems rather than contribute to them--particularly when they pertained to her. Or rather her body.

This would be the first of hopefully few necessary visits to this level of the ship. Counselors only made house calls in dire situations of extreme duress. When she approached the door, she buzzed her presence and called through the door. "Hello? Is anybody home?"

Captain Garlake looked up towards the still-closed door and rubbed his eyes before glimpsing the chronometer on his LCARS. Had he really been writing promotion recommendations for the last three and a half hours and not moved from his seat? He groaned (mostly inwardly) and laced his fingers before stretching them above his head and then bringing them back to rest on his desk, still folded together.

"Come," he answered, with a mixture of half-annoyance for being disturbed and half-elation at having a distraction. Then again, who would be calling at this hour? Good news rarely came after dinner.

"Thank you," Jaya said, her voice low and rhythmic. "I won't be long."

The office, while small, still boasted a desk, two chairs, a small coffee table (upon which a signed, encased rugby ball sat), and sufficient wall space for the centrally-hung 2/5 standard which was flanked by the mounted heads of a Klingon Jackal Mastiff, a South African Gemsbok, and a Ligorian Mastodon.

The Afrikaner blinked. Hard. Taking a quick look at the mirror hanging on the wall alongside the door to make sure he looked presentable, Storr smiled warmly at the slender and delicate Ensign wearing medical blue that stood before him, her brown eyes seemingly drawing all light from the room into themselves. His own gaze suffered a similar fate.

"Ensign, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Pleasure. Sensual passion. Hands caressing her waist and lips brushing her neck.

"Counselor," Jaya corrected. She fixed Garlake with a steady gaze as she forced out his subliminal desires projected upon her. Remember, she chided herself, he doesn't understand... how could he?

Storr raised a brow at the stern correction and stood, offering the fetching woman the only other seat in the room with a gesture of his hand. "Counselor."

"I understand your men had a rough ride yesterday," she said. Her lips curled into a grin. "I know that Marines aren't the first to volunteer to share their deepest feelings, but I would be remiss not to check on them anyway." She cocked her head to one side, studying Garlake in attempts to understand him and thereby rebuff the autonomous biological response he was having toward her. "Particularly anyone who may have suffered combat fatigue."

While their meeting so far had thus far been mere moments, her demeanor did not match the one that her presence would otherwise lead one to assume. Mixed signals of interest and impassivity seemed to emanate from his guest as he returned her grin...was she simply playing coy? As he listened to her speak about the away missions his marines had recently completed, the MCO could not help but hear the double entendres that she so delicately placed in her statement.

Satisfaction. A luxurious, lascivious massage after a difficult yet successful mission. Hands trailing a caress from his stomach to chest.

"Well," he began, leaning forward and nestling his chin in his hand, "you're absolutely right about an...indifference towards psychological matters from marines but we take care of our own." As he spoke, his eyes widened slightly as her clothes seemed to turn nearly translucent, her voluptuous, feminine curves well defined as details remained just tantalizingly out of focus. Was this actually happening or just in his head? Regardless, he had to nearly bite his tongue to keep from licking his lips. "Then again," Storr continued, his deep baritone voice belying much more than he surely intended, "I haven't had a counselor show nearly the interest...I'd have to be the guinea pig to show my men that it isn't all just about dreams or their mothers."

Jaya popped her hip to one side and placed a hand firmly on it. Her eyes twinkled above a smirk that was both uncompromising and alluring. "Now Captain Garlake, for the sake of our professional relationship, I had better inform you that Deltans are acutely aware of the biological responses we stimulate in other species." She gave him an askance look that projected a scolding somewhere between banter and condescension. "That is to say, I am aware of every mental picture you've entertained since I entered the room."

She candidly eyed him up and down, knowing how it would punctuate her next words, as well as giving him time to process that revelation.
"You are indeed an attractive man for your species, as I can only assume, but my Oath of Celibacy is on record. Nothing may come of your... fantasies--" The word fell off her teasing lips like honey. "--aside from various forms of frustration on your part."
She relaxed her stance in order to seat herself. "Now, if you are sincere in your request for counseling, I will do my best to mitigate the biological, eh, coquetry that my autonomous nervous system projects onto yours. But I need you to reciprocate."

She held a thoughtful finger to her lips, assessing Garlake's patient if mischievous mien. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

The Afrikaner's focus was sharply drawn to Maera's shapely thighs and hips as the counselor's stance changed, her words seemingly taking the form of shimmering oil as it flowed down her sides and caressed her form as she spoke. Needless to say, the MCO had trouble concentrating on what she said.

As he continued to watch and struggled to listen, though, his brow began to knit together. Mind reading? Deltan pheromones? Oaths of Celibacy? Frustrated Fantasies? Reciprocation? Yes...yes, he understood. As she finished, he had stood and raised himself to his full form and pounded a fist on the table, beads of sweat falling from his forehead and spattering onto the smooth surface.

"Ensign Maera, your body and...sexual vexation is writing checks that you're unwilling to cash and that makes you dangerous to me," he caught himself mid-word before continuing on. "...To the Two-Five. I...understand completely and...feel that it's best you leave for now...while it's still safe." the last four words said at a near-whisper between silent gulps of air; not out of threat of violence but of carnal action. Garlake had never felt this way and stared ashamedly at the desk below him, small rivulets forming on the touch-sensitive interface, unwilling to even look at the sybaritic counselor for fear of his baser instincts taking control of an already out-of-control meeting.

"It was as I feared," Jaya said quietly. "I am very sorry."

Before Jaya turned to go, she cocked her head to the other side. She began to sense another side to the MCO, even as he stood downcast, unable to meet her eyes. Beneath the waves of lust and shame emanating from his mind, she felt a spark of... something else.

Burning. Aching muscles. Perspiration. Shouting. Commands echoing in the ear. Firefights. Death.

Jaya felt raw aggression in Garlake. It was a primal force of masculine determination that his subconscious seemed to link with pure accomplishment and survival.

"You can do this, Storr, if you set your mind to it." Her voice was scarcely above a whisper. "You've gone beyond yourself in the past. Risen above the storm to become a leader among men."

It was a risk, to be sure. But she didn't enter Starfleet to sit on the sidelines. Rather than leave, Jaya stepped forward, placed a placating hand on Garlake's shoulder, and set her mouth next to his ear. "No Retreat. No Surrender. Always Faithful."

It was too much. The massive Marine, decorated rugby player, weightlifter, Marine Commanding Officer, hunter, sharpshooter...man, collapsed into the chair, his head buried in his arms, his body wracked with sobs. He had nearly lost one marine and lost another in almost as many days, his first command marred by death and now he had nearly ravished the ship's counselor in his office, on an official visit, simply because he could not control his raging desires. Sure, the excuses swirled in his mind ("You weren't even there!" "It's her alien physiology!") but they were just that...excuses. HE was responsible. HIM. HE should have recognized the sexual threat that she posed and not engaged in sensual repartee. HE should not have met with her one-on-one. HE was the commander and should have trained them better. HE should not have split them up or stayed in the cargo bay. HE...should have been the one that had died, not Jessica.

"She was just 19, bladdy 'ell!" he growled, slamming a fist down on the tabletop. His KABAR knife, on the far side, skidded and clattered to the ground with a klang.

As she whispered, she projected soothing feelings through her hand to attenuate his raging synapses. At least, she hoped that was what she was doing. The latent Deltan telepathy was more emotional than the logical-driven Vulcan variety; as a result, they tended to avoid active measures such as the one she was attempting. She would probably fail... Garlake's desires were wrapping themselves within a cocoon of doubt and loathing. And few if any Deltans successfully performed a Mind Meld.

At first there was no response that Jaya could discern. "Find yourself." Her words were thought as much as spoken. Though she still whispered, an intensity began to rise in her tone that was not there before. "See your face, Storr--in your mind. It is victorious. It is peaceful. It is pure, hale, and whole. Do you see it?"

Find yourself...the words seemed to appear as white light against the black storm clouds of Storr's mind. "No Retreat. No Surrender. Always Faithful."...the white words were warm. Comforting. Challenging. Fulfilling. Victorious? He heard the drums of his African jungle. The cheers and sacks of the rugby pitch. The accolades of his parents upon graduation. The praise of his superiors. The respect of his subordinates. The clang of iron in the gym. The smell of a cigar after an exemplary evaluation. The smoothness of an embrace of a woman under the covers.

Suddenly, there he stood, shirtless and atop a hill with clouds swirling around him, his hand in the air raising a blade in victory, lightning striking it yet injuring him not. Determination. Grit. Resolve. Intensity. Perseverance. Virility.

"Semper Fi," the words came out quietly, though sternly, as Storr slowly rose in his chair, turning to look deep into the Deltan's eyes.

"Who...are you?"

Jaya heaved a sigh of relief and laughed. "I was almost certain that was not going to work," she admitted, wiping unshed tears from her own eyes. "Your determination, I think, made the difference." She smiled, then stepped back and examined him with hands folded in front like a school teacher. "Captain Garlake, I think you have just had a breakthrough in 5 minutes that would have taken a year of standard one-hour sessions." Expression softening, she added, "You should be proud." Her eyes shined in admiration.

Captain Garlake leaned back in his chair and let out a deep sigh. He felt like he had just run a marathon and rubbed his eyes before leaning forward again, even straighter when he heard of the Ensign's pride in him. Why he cared so much was a mystery, though one to be explored at a later time as her radiant smile brought his thoughts back to her ethereal beauty.

"Tis a shame," he said with a smile and confident grin, eyes twinkling with a returned resolution, "I'd hate to lose the excuse to see you."

With a smile and a nod, she turned to leave, this time with a spring in her step that had not been there before. But not before saying, "And, in the future, how about we try group therapy with your men?"

Storr's eyes widened at Counselor Maera's words, the door closing behind her and abruptly severing their contact. The Marine Captain was stunned for several moments before he shook his head and sighed, chuckling afterward and lacing his fingers behind his head while propping his feet up on the desk. *If that was just the first session...* he thought, looking up at the 2/5 standard, it surely was a portent of "interesting" things to come.

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