Note: Star Trek, Star Trek Deep Space Nine and the characters in this story are the property of Paramount.
****
Jadzia sat upstairs in Quarks, nursing a drink gone warm. It was a slow night, and the only other customers were gathered round the Dabo table. But even their enthusiasm sounded forced and put on. She could have gone back to her quarters; there was no need to be alone. Worf was off duty. It wasn't that she was avoiding him.
Well that's what she kept telling herself.
Using the wet base of the glass, she drew little circle designs on the stained and sticky table top, and put her mind into neutral.
'Miss Jadzia. What a pleasant surprise. May I join you?'
'Huh? Garak?'
The tailor emerged from the shadows, clutching a large case, and smiling openly.
Dax considered giving him the brush off, but changed her mind. At least it was a few moments distraction. 'Sure. Take a seat.'
'Thank you.'
Garak pulled up a chair and sat opposite, resting the case on the table between them.
'Ok, I'll bite. What's in the bag?'
'Ah now, you see, it all depends on your state of mind. What one person might see as a collection of household goods and implements or industrial tools, another person might see as, well, an inspiration!' Garak stroked the lock mechanism, as if daring Dax to ask him to open it.
'What are you talking about?' Despite herself, Dax was intrigued.
'Just one question first. How are you and Mr Worf getting along?' Garak tried "Innocent Look No.23".
'Fine!' insisted Jadzia, perhaps a little too defensively.
'I see. That would be why you are sitting up here alone, splashing dribble from your stale drink around Quark's grimy table instead of making the earth move with your Klingon snuggle bunny.' Garak went for "Smirk Level 3".
'I...um.. *think* I resent that remark.' Dax bridled, but then sagged in resignation. 'But I guess you have a point. It's just been so...'
'Boring?'
'Yeah, "boring" lately. Klingons aren't the quadrants most imaginative lovers. Why do you ask?'
Garak patted his case.
'Let's adjourn to a holosuite. There's something in here you might like to see.'
Jadzia considered the offer for only a second.
Why not? Doing nothing about her problems with Worf wouldn't improve things. And she could always handle Garak. What could one small Cardassian get up to?
'OK, Garak. Let's go.'
*****
The holosuite was bare as they entered, except for a long bench on which Garak placed his bag, and a two seater lounge.
'Get on with it Garak. What's happening here? Some kind of demonstration?'
'In a way, Miss Jadzia. Please. Have a seat.'
Dax wedged herself in a corner of the lounge, crossing her legs and folding her arms. For some reason, it was unsettling being in a closed holosuite with the tailor. He exuded a certain air of competence and control ,as if all outcomes were known in advance and planned to the last detail. She shifted and fidgeted, forgetting her usual poise. Garak had the case open, its lid towards her, obscuring the contents.
'Garak, are you sure...'
'Shhh. Wait. Ah, here we go. Computer, run holoprogram, Tools One Oh One.'
Opposite Jadzia's couch a bed appeared, the headboard against the wall. Two people, one Trill, one Klingon, stood naked at the foot of the bed, waiting. Garak took out a shimmering folded square of translucent material, and flung it to the Trill. She caught it deftly, and waited for orders.
'I don't think this kind of a demonstration is really necessary, Garak.' Jadzia frowned.
'Bear with me, Lieutenant.' Garak turned to the holotrill. 'Begin!'
With a flick of the wrist, the holotrill snapped the flimsy wrapper. It unfolded into a long, silvery, bag with an open seam at the top. The holocharacters stepped carefully into the bag, drawing it up their naked bodies, until it closed and sealed itself over their heads. Inside the bag, the holoklingon began his usual rough version of foreplay to which the holotrill responded. But due to the confining nature of the bag, their movements were restrained and awkward, becoming increasingly frustrated.
'Bloody hell, Garak. Can they breath in there?' Jadzia stared.
'Certainly. The bag is completely permeable to air. They won't suffocate. But that's not all. It constrains the natural Klingon pheromones generated by their passionate lovemaking so they are concentrated and inhaled by both parties, thus increasing stimulation. The bag will not rip. It must be opened on purpose. It will also shrink as it heats up. If they're not, hmm how you say, "joined" very soon they may not be able to get the leverage. It adds a certain, urgency to the occasion.' Garak was smiling as he watched, the long covered bench hiding any telltale signs of his arousal. Jadzia had no such cover. She felt her face warming as she recognised the moves the big Klingon was making. Soon the bag was clinging to every part of the thrusting couple, who appeared to be on the verge of climaxing, there arms and legs entwined and held in place by the shimmering pseudo-plastic.
'Enough. You get the idea.' Garak called a halt to the simulation, and the holopeople disappeared mid orgasm. 'Next item.'
'More?'
'Oh yes. This is a large case.'
Garak grinned and rattled around in his bag. He extracted a thick, orange, wet looking rod about eleven inches long that squirmed and wiggled as if it was alive. He held it up, and stroked it. The rod responded by getting even longer and thicker.
'What the hell is that! It looks *real*!' Jadzia exclaimed.
'I think it is. A trader from the badlands sold it to me many years ago. I don't know what or *whose* it is, but it works a treat. Watch.'
Again, the holopeople appeared, this time the Klingon man was replaced by a Cardassian man.
The woman was a trill, who was already lying on the bed, her arms restrained by soft, red, ropes to the headrest. The holoCardassian caught the orange rod and held it to his lips, kissing the slimy cock shaped being, which quivered and hissed faintly in reply. The holotrill tried to wrap her legs around her partner, but he forced them apart and held them, placing the rod on her bare belly. It raised its head and swayed, as if seeking out a place to go. Jadzia was fairly sure where *that* would be.
'Ok, Garak. I can imagine what happens next.'
'Fine. But perhaps, I could just fast forward through it. You don't want to miss the climax. Computer, display scenario triple speed.'
In the space of a few minutes, the orange cock had buried itself inside the woman, the Cardassian had *his* cock down her throat, and the eventual climax involved a great deal of thrashing and screaming. Suddenly, the orange alien penis came shooting out of the holotrill's wet hot cunt to land with a soggy *splat* right in Jadzia's lap.
'Oh well caught, my dear!' Garak applauded.
Jadzia picked up the now limp being and flicked it back to the grinning Cardassian tailor.
'Thank you. No. It's all yours.'
Despite her sardonic tone, and her attempt to display disinterest in the whole demonstration, Dax was beginning to feel a little flushed. When she thought Garak wasn't looking, she rubbed her fingers together, still moist from the cock shaped alien. They were slippery. Pretending to scratch her nose, Jadzia sniffed them. They smelled like excited Trill. The scientist in her had to do it. She slipped a finger into her mouth. It tasted just like her.
Ducking his head behind his case, Garak smiled. He knew that she would do that. He was grateful for the bench hiding his own arousal. It wouldn't pay to show his hand too early. It was time for the piece de resistance.
'So what other tricks do you have up your sleeve, Garak?' Jadzia cleared her throat, not wanting to ask, but fascinated to see what the tailor had that could top the last scene.
'I'm afraid we can't use the our holofriends to demonstrate this one.' said Garak sadly. He extracted two metallic headbands, that were covered in strange dark characters that seemed to move and twist on their own. 'But I have saved the best for last.'
He dangled the circlet towards Jadzia. 'It only works on *real* people. And it works *so* well.'
Jadzia hesitated. She was tempted. The Cardassian was well known for his ability to keep secrets and must surely realise that his life would be forfeit if word of their "demonstration" reached Worf's ears. She stood and slowly approached the bench. Jadzia reached out to take a headband from Garak's hand, feeling the smooth dull finish and the solid weight of it.
'What exactly does it do?'
Garak came out from behind his bench. He stood close by the beautiful Trill woman, and grabbed the hand that held the circlet, feeling her soft skin and rubbing a scaled finger over her knuckles. He lifted the device up to her head and slipped it down into place, resting perfectly around her delicately spotted forehead. He smoothed a finger over a select number of designs on the surface and watched Jadzia's eyes glaze over. He ran a finger down her face and smiled as she sighed heavily.
'What does it do, my sweet? Why anything you want. Anything I want. It's *very* satisfying.' He led the unprotesting Trill over to the holobed, and sat her down. Garak placed his own headpiece on the floor as he quickly stripped off his clothes and instructed the computer to increase the ambient temperature. He paused, considering the unresponsive Trill, busy enjoying her own thoughts, and shook his head, as he decide to do the right thing. He reached for his own device and slipped it on, then knelt down in front of her, his hands gripping hers in her lap. He concentrated.
//Jadzia, can you hear me?//
//Yes! Garak this is fabulous! I love it! Can you read my mind?//
//Yes. But I must ask you, do you want this?//
He felt the Trill's hand on his bare shoulder and shuddered at her touch as she smoothed and caressed his ridges just the way he liked it.
'Yes Garak. Let's do it.' Her voice was in his head and his ears. Already she'd mastered control. Garak nodded, acknowledging his own good judgement in asking permission first, and anticipating the pleasure to come.
'Very well, Jadzia. Then let's begin.' The holosuite remained quiet despite the flurry of movement on the bed. The conversation was private, and all in their minds.
*****
Worf was returning from his shift to the quarters he shared with Jadzia. He was tired and irritable, an all too frequent occurrence of late. But Jadzia would forgive him, and soon make him forget the constant irritations of life on this Bajoran station. She had seemed unhappy, disinterested there for a while. He'd put it down to "that's what Trills are like" and tried to live with it. It wasn't his problem if she couldn't adjust to life as a Klingon bride. It was up to the woman to accommodate the wishes of her husband, with honour and respect.
Which Jadzia had done for the most part.
But now things were quite well. The love making was...more than adequate. Worf grinned slyly. Obviously it took a while for the woman to appreciate the finer points of Klingon foreplay. He pressed the door panel and entered his quarters. The room was dim, the air scented with freshly cooked delicacies and a more subtle smell of unwashed Klingon sweat. Worf breathed deeply. Ahh! Home. He glanced towards the bedroom to see Jadzia emerge, naked and ready to pleasure him.
'Wife.'
A growl rumbled in his throat. He watched as she smiled, baring her teeth in the appropriate manner... then reaching up the stroke the metal circlet she'd begun wearing as decoration during their lovemaking. Her eyes took on a glazed look, as she picked up a handy vase to fling.
'Husband.'
She roared and leapt.
//Garak!// ,she thought. //I'm right here//
****************** ******************
Note:(Did you guess? Yes, it was Neelix's detachable penis from "Detached". The inspiration for the plastic bag came from those weird looking female condoms, and those times when you try and have sex in a single sleeping bag. And I've always thought being able to read a persons mind would be the ultimate turn on. Plus the virtual extras those headbands have programmed in.)
~The End~
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