Author's Notes:  Feel free to archive to any pertinent site.  This occurs in the Reasons of the Heart timeline. This story was originally posted to ASC on January 12, 2006

Acknowledgements:  Paramount owns all the marbles, we just have a lot more fun playing with them.  The Adventures of Don Juan starring Errol Flynn was written by George Oppenheimer and Harry Kurnitz from a story by Herbert Dalmas and was directed by Vincent Sherman.
 
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THE ADVENTURES OF WILLIAM RIKER

"The more complex the mind, the greater the need for the simplicity of play."
--Captain James T. Kirk
 

 "Please," Beverly murmured softly.  "Please, I need you.  I want you."

 Chakotay could barely breathe much less think.  His entire body was pounding forcefully with every beat of his heart.  Beverly gave the rock-hard nipple that she was toying with one last flick of her tongue sending a shiver through him before her mouth journeyed across his chest to torment its twin.  His pleas joined hers as his hands tightened their grip in her silky, auburn hair.  Locks of that vibrant red hair trailed down around his fingers to softly brush his chest, further inflaming his already-painful arousal.  He groaned when her mouth left the aching nub and began licking and kissing down his chest.  His hips bucked under the delicious sensation of one delicate fingernail lightly scoring the skin of his abdomen as it trailed down to his hard, throbbing length.  Squirming restlessly when her hand only brushed against him and then cupped and massaged the bulge directly beneath, he rasped hoarsely, "Please."

 She poked her tongue into his belly button several times, smiling against the sweat-dampened bronze skin at his response.  "That's my line," she reminded him.  "You know what I want."

 He lost his hold on her when she moved further down, settling herself between his legs; he thought he was going to lose his mind as her mouth completely engulfed him.  His heart was pounding so hard that it echoed in his ears; his body felt like it was about to explode but his sadistically-talented minx of a wife was very carefully stopping just short of giving him that relief.  He rocked his hips against her in frustration yet she remained perfectly still for what felt like an eternity and he swore softly at the wet heat of her mouth taunting him without moving.  Trembling with need, he gasped when her tongue swirled around him but before he reached his release, she applied pressure to his straining length in a way that kept him painfully hard without allowing the orgasm that had been so close.  "You're a hard woman, Fireball," he whimpered breathlessly.

 Beverly drew back and kissed the tip of his erection before replying.  "The question is how long do you want to stay a hard man?  With this pressure point, I can keep you up for hours."

 "You win," he groaned.  "Please, anything, everything, I give . . . "

 Swiftly moving up his muscled form, she cut off the rest of his submission with a deep, passionate kiss.  Tormenting him was a double-edged sword and her body leapt with anticipation at the imminent culmination of her efforts.  Her own hardened, aching nipples rubbed against his, her hips rocking against him in an effort to relieve the pressure there.  She acquiesced to him, allowing him to roll them so she was being pressed into the soft bedding by the weight of her husband's very aroused body.  Her long legs wrapped around his waist to pull him into her.  When he resisted and broke the kiss to look down at her, she knew what he wanted.  "I love you, Chakotay; thank you."

 With her soft words, he eased himself into her hot, slick depths and forced himself to set a steady, easy pace in spite of the demands of his body.  She was different now than when he'd first re-united with her on that mission to Eillen.  Then she had been unsure of herself, self-conscious; it had taken careful coaxing to bring out the passionate firebrand he knew was there; now she was more confident in her desirability, in her effect on him, and frequently took control in bed.  He nuzzled the sensitive skin along the side of her throat while his hands moved down to urge her legs further up so he could bury himself even deeper.  His teeth found her earlobe and pulled gently, relishing the sounds of pleasure he heard.  He loved the strong, confident woman that his wife was and he delighted in provoking her sexual aggressiveness.  Whenever she took control in bed or out, her eyes practically sparkled and her skin took on an alluring glow that he found utterly irresistible.  His hands slipped under her thighs to slide them up to his shoulders and he began driving into her with long, hard strokes.  Thrusting himself into her over and over, he looked down to where their bodies joined and watched how smoothly and perfectly they fit together.  He saw the muscles of her thighs suddenly quiver and begin to spasm just before he heard her cry out in pleasure and felt her climax around him.  He continued stroking into her as the ripples of her orgasm raced through her and finally allowed himself the release that his body needed so badly.  Collapsing onto her, too exhausted to even roll off of her at that moment, he let her legs slip off his shoulders and together they just laid there as their racing hearts and labored breathing gradually slowed.

 "It's a good thing you gave in when you did," Beverly said after she caught her breath.  "I was just about to break out the whips and chains,"

 Chakotay idly caressed the length of her body eliciting a shiver of response from her.  "Why didn't you say so?  Next time I'll just have to try and hold out a little longer."

 Closing her eyes, she nuzzled the strong line of his jaw.  "Are you sure you're okay with doing this?  As fun as the negotiations were, I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you into doing something that you don't want to do."

 "I knew you were going to win before my pants came off," he assured her.  "The only question was how long I could hold out against your persuasiveness.  You're very sexy when you're aggressive."

 "It's comments like that which lead me to believe you need a good beating," she remarked wryly.

 Feeling his body stirring inside her, he rocked against her hips.  "Are you volunteering?"

.............................................

 "Merci, chere," Picard replied when Vash placed a new drink down in front of him before taking her seat next to him at the table set up in Beverly and Chakotay's quarters for the senior staff's weekly poker game.  This particular hand had come down to just Beverly Crusher and Will Riker.  Chakotay seemed amused and all four ladies in the room, Vash, Deanna, Beverly and Guinan wore the same, self-satisfied expression.  His first officer was being set up for something.  Picard didn't know what exactly the set-up entailed but as long as he wasn't the target--and it was legal, he didn't care.

 "Up for a little side bet?" Beverly asked.

 "Always," Will replied meeting her gaze, "name it."

 "If I win this hand you play the lead in my next production," Beverly challenged.

 "Agreed," Riker nodded.  "And if I win, I pick and cast the next production."

 "Agreed."

 "I think 'Cats' would have just the right role for our dancing doctor," he smiled and waggled his eyebrows at her while laying out his cards.

 'Oh, you'll pay for that,' Beverly thought to herself taking great glee in the way his face fell when she laid out her own cards.

 "Yes,"  Vash crowed sharing a triumphant look with Deanna.  Considering his former reputation as a ladies man, Commander Tall, Dark and Handsome was perfect for what they had in mind.

 "Vash," Picard chided his wife good-naturedly.

 Vash rested a hand on his arm and cooed, "Trust me, Mon Capitaine, you're going to love this."

 Riker glanced over at Deanna only to find his Imzadi's eyes sparkling with mirth.  No help there.  He again faced Crusher.  "All right, Doctor.  In what production will I be playing the lead role?"

 Beverly handed Will a PADD with the script.  "The Adventures of Don Juan."

 Caught mid-drink, Picard almost choked trying not to laugh out loud.  Vash leaned into him and whispered, "told ya."

 "In all this world there's been but one image in my heart, one vision before my eyes.  I have loved you since the beginning of time," Riker began reading aloud from the first scene.

 Beverly jumped in with the next line.  "But you only met me yesterday... "

 "Why, that was when time began," he read the next line cringing at the purple prose.   "An artist may paint a thousand canvases before achieving one work of art. Would you deny a lover the same practice?"

 "But how long will you love me?" Beverly asked dramatically, winking at the other women who were badly stifling their giggles.

 "Sweet lady, love is not measured in terms of time, only in ecstasy," Will read aloud while rolling his eyes.  Gesturing with the PADD, he looked around the table, "Who actually talks like that?"

 "I dream of a galaxy where your eyes are the stars . . . and all the universe worships night," Guinan reminisced fondly.

 Beverly proclaimed melodramatically.  "You are the heart in my day and the soul of my night.

 "Eternity never looked so lovely," Deanna reached out to toy with the dark hair at the nape of the suddenly red neck of her husband.

 Vash leaned across the table to gaze adoringly at the dashing first officer.  "Your eyes are as mysterious as the stars."

 Riker cocked his jaw, recognizing some of his own lines, and regarded the trio-plus-one who weren't even trying to conceal their amusement.  "You're implying that I am reminiscent of Don Juan."

 "I think they're being pretty clear about that opinion," Picard retorted wryly unable to help himself.

 Deciding the best defense was a strong offense, Riker retorted, "I believe you've experienced a certain amount of feminine adulation yourself before setting down into wedded bliss, Captain.  Shall we start with your lovely wife Vash, Jenice Manheim, Phillipa Louvois, Neela Daren, Anij --"

 "Kamala," Vash added in the empathic metamorph that Riker had chivalrously omitted from his list.

 "Touche' Number One," Picard acknowledged.  "But I do believe you've romanced quite a few more lovely ladies in your bachelor days than I have.  The ones I can recall include Deanna, Vash, Beata of Angel One, Brenna Odell, Etana Jol, Soren of the J'naii --"

 "Don't forget Lanel, that woman on Malcor III who just wanted to, shall we say, experience relations with an extraterrestrial," Deanna chuckled, relishing the way her Imzadi groaned as his head fell into his hands.

 "What about you, Chakotay?" Riker turned to him, looking to offer up a new sacrifice to divert their attention.  "I'm sure you've had your share of conquests."

 Chakotay shrugged, with just a hint of dimples peeking out of his cheeks.  "I'm a man of few women."

 "Who do you have in mind for the other roles?" Guinan asked.

 "I'll be playing Catherine," Beverly began.  "Deanna has agreed to play Queen Margaret.  Vash is playing Lady Diana and her  new assistant, Karita, is playing Countess Elena.  Reg Barclay will be the Duke de Lorca, Data will be King Phillip III and Geordi is playing Count D'Orsini.  Making his Enterprise theater debut, Chakotay will be playing Don Juan's loyal sidekick, Leporello." She smiled appreciatively at her husband and laid her hand on his.

 Riker conceded the inevitable, especially since everybody else on the ship apparently already knew about the production.  There was a certain humor to him playing that role given his past reputation.   He nodded to Chakotay.  "How did you finally get talked into doing one of these?"

 Chakotay just grinned.  "I'm married to the very persuasive director/producer," he replied, raising Bevely's hand to place a courtly kiss on the back of it.

 "I think the casting is superb," Guinan gave Riker an appraising look.  "Don Juan and I were only passing acquaintances but you do remind me of him.  Of course Juan was a little more flamboyant and you'll need to practice your fencing technique with the captain.  Don Juan was quite the swordsman--he certainly never got beat by a woman."

 "That probably depended on which sword he was using at the time," Chakotay couldn't resist commenting.  "Kind of like our own Don Juan, here."

 Everybody except Riker broke into laughter at the perfect double entendre.  "Et tu, Brute?" Riker said to Chakotay.

 "Leporello," Chakotay corrected him.  "Leporello."

...............................................

 Riker stepped out of his office to see Vash leaning nonchalantly against the corridor wall.  She gave him a big smile, which he knew did not bode well for him, and strolled over to link her arm in his.

 "Just the man I need."

 "I'm supposed to meet Deanna in her office for lunch," he replied.

 Vash waved off his protest as she steered him to the turbolift and called for her lab's deck.  "I know, I just talked to her and she said I could borrow you for a few minutes."

 Chuckling, he waited for her to exit the lift and then followed.  "Sometimes I get the distinct impression that we mere males are simply a commodity that you ladies barter with."

 "Of course, but you're a very precious commodity," she cooed.  She dragged him into her office where her new assistant, Karita, was pacing nervously.  Pushing him toward the younger woman, she commanded, "kiss her."

 To his credit, only an arched eyebrow betrayed his surprise.  He looked from the red-faced young woman to Vash.  "That's not an order I get every day."

 "She's playing the Countess Elena in the play," Vash explained.  "She's nervous about the scenes you two have together, so I want you to just kiss her and get it over with before she breaks something in here."

 Riker grinned and winked at Karita before retorting, "Your charm is slipping, Queen Bee; as a rule, men do not like to think of their kisses as something to be endured or 'gotten over with.' "

 "William Riker, by order of the director, your wife and me, pucker up," Vash ordered sternly with just the hint of a grin tugging at her lips.

 Shaking his head in bemusement, he slowly approached a very flushed Karita.  He gave a gallant, sweeping bow, "Countess Elena, it is my pleasure."

 "It's not that I'm scared of you," she stammered.  "I mean, I know you're not horrible or anything.  You're fairly good-looking for an older man--of course you're married anyway, and you're probably a good kisser if your reputation is to be believed.  It's just that you're a Starfleet officer, First Officer of the Federation's flagship and key member of the historic command staff of the Enterprise; you've done battle with the Borg!"

 "Okay," Riker's fingers stilled Karita's babbling lips.  "Much more explaining and my lunch date will turn into a therapy session."

 Vash perched herself on the edge of her desk, giggling at Will's face.  "Your wife, Beverly and I are working on that whole uniform intimidation thing and, believe it or not, this play is part of that plan; but, obviously, we still have a ways to go."

 Softening his expression, he gently caressed Karita's face.  "My heart sings sweetly because you are by my side."

 "We . . . I mean that's not . . . the kiss opens that scene," she said hesitantly.  "Maybe we don't need to kiss, we could just cut that out--not that I don't want to kiss you, the few women in the play that you don't kiss are jealous that I do get to kiss you.  Please don't tell your wife I said that."

 Riker tilted his head toward Vash and whispered conspiratorially to Karita.  "I won't have to, Madame Picard over there will provide a play-by-play of this whole conversation later; besides, I have a telepathic link with my wife so she knows everything.  Wait a minute, I thought I kissed every woman in the production.  Are you saying I missed some?"

 Karita laughed.  "One or two, I think."

 While she was relaxed, he leaned in and tenderly covered her lips with his.  In the play they would have to hold the stage kiss for a full minute as the lights came up and the sound effects were cued, so he used some of his best lip work--minus tongue--to draw her into the kiss.  His hand cupped her cheek to hold her face still for him.  Once he felt her relax into him, he pulled away slowly.  "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

 "No, sir, Commander Riker," she replied shyly, blushing once again.

 "Okay," Vash hopped off the desk and shooed Riker toward the door.  "Mission accomplished, you can do that again at rehearsal.  I will call Dee and tell her that you were very helpful and are on your way."

 "Adios, my sweet Countess," he melodramatically blew a kiss to Karita.  "Until we meet again."

.............................................

 "Come on, Will," Beverly sighed.  "I need to see you in your costume before opening night; hence the term 'dress rehearsal'."

 "Are you sure this was replicated with the right measurements?" Riker's voice was muffled by the wall between them.

 Behind her she could hear Vash chortling and Deanna snickering.  All three women were dressed in voluptuous, seventeenth century-style gowns replete with tight corsets--a sacrifice they had all willingly agreed to for the pleasure of getting Riker to do this particular part.  "Unless you've put on more than two kilos since your last physical, it should fit you perfectly."

 Riker appeared in the doorway of the dressing room with his tunic over his arm.  He was wearing skin-tight pants that outlined every millimeter of his legs and hips to perfection before disappearing into black, leather boots.  Muscles rippled beneath the tight fabric with each step and a very impressive bulge was visible at the juncture of his legs.  The white shirt tucked into the waistband was looser, but there was no mistaking the broad chest and powerful shoulders, and the neckline showed off the dark, curly hair on his chest.  With the sword in its sheath around his waist, he looked like he had stepped out of one of the trio's romance novels.

 Deanna glided gracefully up to stand beside Beverly.  "Turn around so we can see the back," she coaxed.  "Now, bow before your Queen."

 "Bow wow," Vash muttered softly so that only Beverly and Deanna could hear.  "We are going to have way too much fun with this production."

 Riker gestured defensively toward Chakotay who was already in his Leporello costume.  "His pants aren't as tight as mine, why not?"

 "Not a swordsman," Chakotay retorted with a grin; "also, married to the director."

 "William's got a point," Vash noted to Beverly impishly.  "First you cheat us out of seeing him in his all-together at Dee and Will's wedding on Betazed and now you're cheating us out of a view here."

 Beverly grinned.  "I'll take it under advisement but, unlike my character, I am quite attached to my husband and not inclined to share the booty."

 Chakotay shrugged and waggled an eyebrow at his wife.  "I'll make you a deal.  I'll let you make my pants a little tighter if you drop the neckline of your dress by about two and a half centimeters."

 Beverly tugged the neckline down to reveal more cleavage.  "Consider it done."

 "Very nice, Doctor," Picard commented as he walked into the room and surveyed the costumed characters and partially-constructed set.

 With her back to him, the captain couldn't possibly have seen anything, but that reasoning didn't prevent a deep, red blush from creeping up her neck and into her cheeks.  She shot Chakotay an exasperated glare before turning around.  "Thank you, Captain."

 "Just one thing," Picard offered.  "The sword belt goes on over the tunic, not under it.  It would be too hard to get the blade out in a hurry otherwise.  Pirates wore their swords like that because they didn't wear tunics, but gentlemen did and had to adjust accordingly."

 "Pirates!" Vash exclaimed.  "Why didn't we think of that?  We could have Will and Dee do a public performance of 'Desire in Disguise'."

 "No!" Both of them practically shouted in unison.

 Vash ignored their outburst  and sauntered over to Jean-Luc, the bodice of her gown already as low as it could go.  "You know, darling, for an organization that stems from a naval tradition, those Starfleet uniforms really don't do it justice.  Now if all of the men dressed more like what Will and Chakotay are wearing . . . "

 "The frightening thing is that you could probably get Admiral Nechayev to sign off on that," Picard replied wryly.

 "Just picture yourself standing on the Bridge of the Enterprise, your senior officers beside you all dressed in white shirts and tight pants tucked into leather boots with swords at your hip," she cooed tapping his chest with her gown's matching lace fan.

 Picard dropped a brief kiss on the end of her perky, little nose.  "No."  He held up his own fencing equipment and addressed Riker.  "Are you ready to practice the final fight scene between Don Juan and the Duke de Lorca?"

 "Ah yes," Riker grinned.  "I get to kill Reg."

 Beverly clapped her hands loudly, getting everyone's attention.  "All right, Will, fix your costume and go on with Captain Picard for your practice.  Everybody else get set up for the scene between Queen Margaret and King Phillip in the sitting room."

 Data, who had entered just behind Captain Picard, was already dressed in his King Phillip costume.  He stepped forward and gallantly offered his arm to Deanna.  "My Queen, shall we?"

 "We shall," she acknowledged regally and placed her arm on his.

..............................................

 "Are you about through with ship's business for the evening?"

 "Just finished," Picard answered shutting off the computer and looking up to see Vash poised in their bedroom doorway wearing only a half-buttoned khaki workshirt.  'And even if I wasn't finished, I certainly would be now,' he thought to himself his eyes drinking in the way the undone buttons exposed a hint of the curves beneath while the shirt hit her upper-thighs setting off her long shapely, bare legs.  Even after all the years that had past since they met on Risa, she still found ways to take his breath away.   He stood up to make his way over to her.  "That's quite a fetching way to wear one of your work shirts."

 "Just consider it an invitation to do some in-depth research -- on the ship's chief archaeologist," Vash offered lasciviously.  She watched Jean-Luc walk toward her, his eyes hardened with desire.  He had mentioned before that her khaki work clothes remind him of the first time he ever made love to her.  She decided that it was time to use that tidbit of information to her advantage.

 "My favorite area of study," he replied suavely, stopping to stand just in front of her.

 "I'm flattered."  She gazed up at him tracing lazy circles around the rank pips on the collar of his burgundy uniform tunic with one fingertip.

 Her doe eyes of liquid blue combined with the feel of her delicate fingertip toying with his rank pips stirred Picard's senses.  She was plotting something.  Steeling himself to engage his little vixen, he ventured, "to what do I owe the honor of such an invitation?"

 "I thought I'd use my feminine wiles in an attempt to lure the good captain away from ship's business for the evening," she answered in a playfully seductive tone.

 One shapely, bare leg slowly slid up and down the leg of Picard's uniform trousers.  Oh yes, she was definitely on a mission and pulling out all the stops.  He captured her thigh and drew her leg up to wrap it around his hip while pressing her back against the doorway.  His mouth descended onto hers, crushing her lips beneath his in a fiercely impassioned kiss.  Stealing between her parted lips, his tongue plundered the depths of her mouth searching for and finding hers.  When he finally broke the kiss, she was gasping for breath.  There was a hint of amusement tingeing his bedroom baritone when he knowingly prompted, "now, why don't you tell me what it is you're really after."

 Vash bit her lower lip contemplating her response.  Jean-Luc held her immobile her small body caught between the doorway and his lean, muscular frame.  His formidable strength made any escape impossible and her entire body flared into a highly charged state of anticipation, instinctively responding to his pure masculine virility.  Trying to gain control over her own increasing desires, she firmly reminded herself that she was the one who was supposed to be doing the seducing.  'En garde,' she thought giving him her most innocent expression. "Well, today during rehearsal I watched you practicing the duel between Don Juan and the Duke de Lorca with Will.  You're an accomplished swordsman and I love watching you fence.  I can't help but be reminded of my rescue from the tower in Nottingham castle when you literally swept me off my feet like a romantic hero out of a story book."

 "So this is all about my skill with a sword," Picard teased, well aware that his wife enjoyed watching him fence because she found it arousing for whatever reason.  However, he wasn't gullible enough to believe that was her sole, motivating factor here.

 "The way you use your sword is very impressive." Vash gushed sensuously brushing a fingertip over his bottom lip.

 Rather than follow up on her not-so-subtle innuendo, he remarked, "I take it that Madame Picard is pleased that I agreed to choreograph all the fencing scenes in the play."

 "Very pleased, delighted in fact." Vash rested her hands on the masculine slope of Jean-Luc's shoulders.  "There's just one thing missing."

 "And the other stylish, expensive, stiletto heel drops," he noted wryly.

 Ignoring the good-natured barb, she began, "we still don't have anyone for the role of the Count de Polan and you make such a dashingly gallant nobleman --"

 "No," he cut her off succinctly.

 "Jean-Luc," she turned his name into a seductive purr.

 "I've already had my moment in the trio's spotlight and I wouldn't dream of upstaging Will during his," he bantered back with his characteristic barely-there smile.

 With her eyes never leaving his, her fingers trailed deliberately down his uniform jacket, unfastening each clasp in turn.  She implored him in a softly coquettish voice, "s`il vous plait, Mon Capitaine."

 Picard tightened his grasp on Vash's thigh, pulling her hard against him and lowered his face until his lips were just a hairsbreadth from hers.  "After considerable persuasion -- "  He broke off and his mouth seized hers in a ravenous kiss.  Hearing the sound of her quiet sigh of surrender in unison with her arms coming up to encircle his neck, his mouth released hers.  "I agreed, under duress," he rasped hoarsely against her mouth before reclaiming it in a kiss even more voracious than last.  He slid his mouth from hers, moving to explore the soft skin of her neck under her earlobe.  "To play one role in one production." He flicked his tongue against her pulse point, coaxing her to roll her head back.  "I have played one role in one production."  He took advantage of her bared throat to trail heated kisses over the sensitive area.  "Therefore fulfilling my obligation."

 The timbre of his masterful voice reverberated against the tender skin of her neck.  The sensation sent shivers of desire racing along her spine.  She inquired in a passion-laced whisper, "what if I want to reopen negotiations?"

 "This is not the proper venue to hold such negotiations," he remarked releasing his hold on her and stepping back slightly.

 Opening his jacket as she went, Vash's hands slipped inside and traveled up to push it off  his broad shoulders peeling it away to drop on the floor.  "And the proper venue would be?"

 Wordlessly, Picard swept Vash up in a fireman's carry over his shoulder, smiling to himself at her squeal of surprise.  Carrying her into the bedroom with a wicked glint in his eyes, he lightly swatted her perfectly proportioned backside.

 'Jean-LUC Picard," Vash exclaimed only to hear a deep masculine chuckle in response.

 He dropped her onto the soft bed and stood over her, her expression of disconcerted indignation unspeakably adorable.  After slipping off his boots, he unfastened his uniform tunic and dropped it to the floor.  He tugged at his T-shirt, pulling it free of his waistband, stripping it off over his head and tossing it aside.  "Let the games begin, ma petite."

 Once again going on the offensive, Vash rolled up onto her knees, placing her hands on his shoulders.  She thrilled at the hard, sculpted muscles beneath her tiny palms. Her hands traveled down to linger on the bulging biceps of his upper arms.  The mere thought of the tightly-leashed strength contained in those arms gave rise to butterflies in her stomach.  Her hands journeyed back up to his shoulders, only to slide down the muscular wall of his chest, delighting in the rippling pectorals and coarse chest hair. "The role is perfect for you."

 "Where have I heard that before?" he retorted, enjoying the sensations caused by her small hands roaming over his chest and arms.

 The taut muscles of his abdomen contracted beneath her fingertips as her hands trailed down to the waistband of his trousers.  She cooed, "You'll be wonderful in the role, I can just see you giving Will a thorough dressing down right there onstage."

 "Aren't you getting just a little ahead of yourself there," he noted sardonically while swiftly capturing her hands to stop her from going any further.  He imprisoned both of her slender wrists in one of his large hands and urged her body backward to lay her against the soft bedding.  Pinning her hands over her head, he deftly unbuttoned her workshirt with his free hand.

 The fabric of her shirt slipped from her breasts and the peaks stiffened to attention, demanding in their need.  The butterflies in her stomach hardened into a knot of desire in response to the warmth of his hand laying flat against her bare stomach scant inches from her panties.  It was all she could do to keep her mind on her mission.  "The Count de Polan is Don Juan's mentor, a courageous man who commands the deepest respect and loyalty from Queen Margaret."

 Picard's attention focused on the irresistible lure created by the full curves of her breasts with their creamy skin tipped by rosy crests.  He leaned in to leisurely swirl his tongue around the taut peak, hearing her inhale sharply.  Savoring her impassioned reaction, he nipped at the hardened crest slightly before suckling strongly.

 "Please, Jean-Luc," Vash pleaded breathlessly.  The coarse rasp of his tongue dragging roughly against her sensitive skin along with the pull of his mouth and the occasional scrape of his teeth had her entire body thrumming with need.

 "Please what, ma chere?" he taunted in a low, resonating whisper.  His mouth moved to her other breast while he allowed his free hand to surreptitiously drift lower only to stop just at the top of her panties.

 "Play the Count de Polan," she panted, her hips instinctively arching.

 "Are you sure that's what you want?"  He slipped his hand past the flimsy scrap of fabric, using only one fingertip to penetrate the damp folds of flesh with a very light, teasing caress.

 "Oh yes," she hissed softly in response to the faint touch of his finger barely grazing her tingling flesh.

 "It seems there is something else you want," he noted, the evidence of her excitement bathing his fingertip and sending an answering surge of arousal coursing over him.  He increased the pressure, dipping into the dripping wet depths of her body before returning to torment the swollen bud begging for his attentions.

 "Jean-Luc, please, I want --" she broke off with a low moan unsure of what she was asking.  She was lost in the pleasure consuming her body, his fingers filling her, nimbly stoking and inflaming the explosive forces mounting inside her.

 Picard knew Vash's body, its every response, and he knew exactly where she was in her pleasure by the way her body tightly clenched against his fingers with each caress.  He took her just to the precipice and tethered her there.  "I know what you want, chere, and all it will take is just one little promise from you."

 "Oh God, . . . Oh Jean-Luc . . . Please."  Every muscle in her body strained, reaching for the pinnacle that he kept just beyond her grasp.  The sensation suddenly stopped and she realized that he was slipping her panties off.

 Renewing his erotic attentions, careful to keep her just short of her pleasure, he softly muttered, "I want you to promise me that you will never try to talk me into playing another part in any production."

 "Please . . . later, not now.  I want you now."

 He stopped again and, unfastening his own painfully-tight trousers, he moved to kneel between her thighs and rasped, "Promise now."

 She waited, she could feel that his body wanted her as much as she wanted him, but he didn't move instead just hovering over her so near and yet so far.  With the skill of a maestro, his manipulations had left her pulsing uncontrollably; her entire body felt as if it were on fire.  She pulled at the strong grip  holding her wrists.  "Oh God, Jean-Luc, don't stop!"

 His body was screaming for her and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep inside her, but he was determined to win this particular battle.  He rocked his hips, dragging his hard, throbbing length across the glistening juncture of her thighs.  In a voice rough with his own lust, he insisted, "promise me, Vash."

 "Jean-Luc" she whimpered, twisting in his grip desperate for release.

 Hardening his resolve to win this negotiation, he repeated his actions.  "Two little words, that's all it will take to end this.  Promise me."

 She had been trying to get him to promise her something, but at the moment all she wanted was him buried deep inside her.  Sharp sensations shot through her body each time he rubbed himself against her.  He was still holding her hands over her head which stretched her body out beneath him, completely helpless to do anything but feel.  "Anything, Jean-Luc, I promise."

 "That's my good girl," he rumbled with masculine satisfaction releasing her hands.  Bracing his hands against the bed on either side of her shoulders, he entered her with one deep, powerful thrust.  She threw her head back and arched toward him, her small hands grabbing his forearms as she gasped with pleasure at the sheer fullness of his body.  His eyes hungrily raked over the supple curves writhing frantically beneath him.  He unleashed the tight rein he had held on his own needs and set a cadence that was a rhythm of furious intensity; fiercely, he pounded into her, driving himself deep inside her with each stroke and yet her body demanded more from him with each thrust.  The slick depths of her body were so hot and tight, gripping him and frantically clutching at him in uncontrolled passion.  He took her with abandon, giving himself up to the extraordinary pleasure engulfing him.

 Vash could feel his hard length penetrating into the depths of her body and filling her completely with each powerful stroke.  Jean-Luc was rewarding her for her promise, giving her ecstasy beyond description.  The pressure continued to build and she moved with him, desperately reaching for it.  She was struggling for air yet she heard herself calling his name, over and over, louder and louder.  The tension that he had been building in her finally detonated in a fulminating crescendo.  Her entire body rocked with an overpowering orgasm that came in wave after wave of bliss crashing over her.

 He didn't want this exquisite pleasure to ever end, but hearing his name repeatedly from her sweet lips threatened to undo him.  It was her body clamping spasmodically around him that shattered his control and his own passion overtook him.  With one deep, final thrust, he erupted in her with a shout of satisfaction.  Collapsing onto her, his entire body was covered with a thin film of perspiration from the physical exertion.

 With tremors of pleasure continuing to course through her quivering body, Vash was left wondering just what went wrong.  To add insult to injury, she could feel as well as hear Jean-Luc softly chuckling.  With a huff, she complained, "that's not fair, you can't do that."

 He raised himself up on his forearms and looked down at the beautiful woman beneath him.  It was rare for him to thwart one her little schemes, very rare indeed.  He was enjoying this victory.  "I just did, chere and may I remind you of the great many concessions you have gotten from me the exact same way."

 "That's different," she insisted splaying her small hands across his chest and gently pushing up.

 Placing a kiss on her pert little nose, he obeyed her implicit 'you can get off of me now' command and rolled off to lay on his back next to her.  "Goose and gander, chere, goose and gander."

.............................................

 Riker and Vash stood onstage in their costumes, rehearsing the scene between Lady Diana and Don Juan.  She gracefully sashayed across the stage toward Will causing the numerous layers of the gown's full skirt to sway.  She decided that if she was going to suffer her bust-line pushed this high, her waist cinched in this tight not to mention the ridiculously cumbersome skirt, she was going to take full advantage of the effect.  Stopping to stand very close to Will, she looked up at him coquettishly through her lashes.  "Well, your Grace?"

 "Extremely well," Riker answered, the silver braiding on his blue, velvet tunic glinting beneath the stage lighting.  With a small step back, he gestured toward her with his hand.  "Now that I see you for the first time, I --"

 "The first time?" she cut him off with the smooth timing of an experienced thespian.

 "Beauty such as yours is always new."

 "Charming, spoken like a Don Juan," Vash observed approvingly.

 He injected just the barest hint of panic in his tone.  "Don Juan?"

 "Darling, let's stop pretending."  Vash threw her arms around Will's neck.  "You're here at last, you've found me."

 His arms wrapped around her waist.  "So I have."

 "Just as you swore you would that star-crossed night when you held me in your arms," she cooed gazing up at him.

 "Ah, I'll never forget it," he said, lowering his face to hers for their stage kiss.  When his lips touched hers, a badly smothered giggle escaped her, then another and a third.  Vash erupted into laughter,  backing away with her hands held up apologetically.

 "Sorry," Vash managed between giggles.

 Beverly stood up from where she'd been sitting with the rest of the cast at the rehearsal and moved toward the stage.  The scene had been going beautifully.  "Problem, Vash?"

 "I'm just not used to all that hair."  Hearing the immediate reaction the comment received, Vash turned toward the amused audience with her hands on her hips and corrected, "facial hair."

 "It can tickle if you're not used to it," Deanna offered.

 "All right, let's take it from Will's last line," Beverly sat back down.

 After composing herself, Vash took her place in Will's arms.  He delivered his line with a wicked glint in his eye, "Ah, I'll never forget it."

 Vash felt the world suddenly spin when Will swept her off her feet into a melodramatic dip away from the audience.  Instead of a stage kiss, he rubbed his mustache against her cheek just by her ear while tickling her ribcage mercilessly.  Laughing so hard she was gasping for breath, Vash twisted and turned helplessly in his strong arms trying in vain to escape his fingers and teasing whiskers.

 "Knock it off, you two," Beverly called out from her seat.

 Deanna could feel Will's glee at catching Vash so completely off guard. "It's not Vash's fault."

 "This time," Beverly huffed as she watched Will set Vash back on her feet.

 "Sweetheart, you didn't expect to actually get through this particular scene unscathed," Chakotay laughed.  He was well aware that Will and Vash were two of Beverly's more willing victims in these productions;  however, once on stage, they could also be two of the most irrepressible hams.

 "That's awfully brazen for someone I get to slap in the next," Vash leaned over to the couch on the set to look at the script before finishing with an evil grin, "three lines of dialogue."

 "Fortune favors the brave," Will retorted with a chuckle.

 "Actually, it's fortune favors the foolish," Chakotay corrected from his seat.

 "From Will's last line again, please." Beverly stressed.  Vash cautiously took her place in Will's arms again.

 "Ah, I'll never forget it." Riker repeated the line leaning in and kissing Vash.  He broke off the kiss and she stepped back from him with a questioning expression.  He looked down at her as if he was desperately trying to place her face.  "It was . . . it was a . . ."

 "Venice," Vash supplied tersely.

 "Ah, Venice, yes of course, that unforgettable night.  You and I together, strange music coming to us across the water, haunting us."  Riker's Don Juan spun a romantic yarn from the small piece of information.

 With a very convincing and resounding stage slap across Will's face, Vash raged, "It was Paris, you beast, at the home of the Comtesse de Tuvee in the garden.  You swore you'd remember my kiss til the end of time.  That was four months ago."

 "Diana, darling, at last I've found you."  Riker took a step and reached out for her.

 "Liar, cheat, imposter." she accused avoiding his grasp.

 "Oh no.  For a moment I was blinded by your beauty.  Why do you think I'd risk my life to come here posing as the duke?"

 "Well, why?  You didn't remember me.  You'd forgotten all about me, hadn't you?" she demanded making her way over to the drawing room's door.

 He gave the appearance of being resigned to his fate and heaved a dramatic sigh, "Well, call the guards.  Call your father.  I deserve it."

 "This time you won't forget me," she vowed, locking the bolt on the door.  Sauntering across the room toward him, she threw herself into his arms and purred seductively, "I won't let you forget me."

 "Wonderful acting, both of you," Beverly praised with a clap of her hands.

 "Well, I was acting," Vash replied.  "For William, here, it was more like remembering."

 Riker regarded her in confusion.  "Meaning?"

 "Isn't there a sense of deja vu with this scene?" she asked impishly.  "Think about the first time we met, Will."

 Will groaned, like the captain's duel with Sir Guy, the story of their first meeting in Ten-Forward had become a part of ship's legend.  "What about it?"

 "The expression on your face in this scene was the exact same panicked expression you had when I knew your name and the rest of your pick-up line."  She pointed a finger at him and teased, "You thought I was some lovely conquest you had forgotten."

 "No, of course not, I --" he broke off noticing Deanna and Beverly sitting side by side eyeing him expectantly.  He decided to change tactics and pointed out, "Regardless of what I might have thought in that moment, the fact was we had never met and I had not forgotten you."

 "True," she admitted.

 "Unlike your character, I seriously doubt you would allow any man to forget you," he added with his most charming smile.

 Vash turned to Deanna, sounding impressed, "he's good."

 "Infamously good," Beverly noted with a hint of amused exasperation.  "That's it for today, everybody, finally."  She shooed Will away and drew Vash and Deanna aside.  "So?" she asked Vash.

 "I failed," she admitted with a dramatic sigh to her partners in crime.  "He refused to play any role in the production."

 Deanna was trying not to giggle from the emotions that she was picking up from Vash.  "It doesn't feel like a failed mission from where I'm standing."

 "Vash?" Beverly asked.

 "I tried, really I did but one thing led to another and I sort of forgot where I was going and then I came . . . "

................................................

 Deanna gazed adoringly at Will.  Standing before her in the tight pants, boots and jacket of his character, he looked every bit Don Juan de Marana.  Over the course of rehearsals, even his thoughts and feelings had taken on a more dashing and roguish tint.  He reminded her more and more of the brash, sweet-talking young Starfleet officer whom she'd fallen in love with seemingly another lifetime ago.  His thoughts intruded on her musing and she realized that he was waiting for her line.  She had almost forgotten about the dress rehearsal they were in.  "I wish there were more men in Spain with the courage to defy his Grace.  I'm glad you came back."

 "So am I," Riker replied, knowing full well the direction her thoughts had taken.

 Rising from her throne, Deanna glided gracefully over to a nearby table.  "Look, these materials have just arrived from Holland.  Aren't they lovely?"

 Riker's eyes never strayed from her face, accented by her upswept hairdo adorned with glittering jewels.  "Beautiful," 'my Imzadi,' he finished silently.

 Deanna almost forgot her next line.  "You've been to Holland, haven't you?"

 "Briefly."

 "I've always wanted to travel; I envy you.  Tell me, Don Juan, don't you miss the life you once led?"  Suddenly the light-hearted joking about the women in his past took on a darker connotation.  "What I meant . . . it must have been so interesting and you have changed so completely."

 Comforting her unspoken fear, he continued on with the scene putting emphasis on the last line.  "Yes, it's been quite a surprise to me, too, your Majesty.  Perhaps it's because I've found something I've always wanted."

 She gave a brief smile at the knowledge that, like her character, she was the 'something' that Will wanted.  "Oh yes, yes of course, a purpose in life, your work."

 There was a time when his ambition was the most important thing in his life; he'd turned his back on Deanna once before in favor of his career.  Now he couldn't imagine making such a decision.  "My work's quite congenial but hardly that exciting."

 "What is it, then?  Please be seated.  Tell me; shall I command you?"

 Erotic images of being commanded by her flashed through his mind and into hers.  "If you command me, then I must obey."

 Out in the seats, Vash and Beverly watched them and were swept up in the intensity of the scene.  Beverly leaned over to Vash.  "Is it too warm in here?  Deanna looks a little flushed, maybe we should take a break."

 "I don't think room temperature has anything to do with that," Vash suggested with a smirk.

 "Meaning?"

 "Foreplay," she explained succinctly.  "When Jean-Luc and I were playing the leads in Phantom of the Opera, our scenes together took on very erotic undertones.  Given their telepathic link, I would bet they're trading X-rated innuendos between lines."

 Onstage, Deanna brought up memories of their pirate games on the holodeck and arched an eyebrow in triumph at Will's soft groan.  "I do command you."

 "It's not easy to tell.  Like most other men, there's always been an imaginary woman in my life.  I endowed her with all the virtues, I clothed her in perfection.  Naturally I searched for her in vain; I thought she could never exist except in my mind.  Now I find she does."

 "Who is this woman?" Deanna asked, knowing without a doubt that he was referring to her as much as her character.  "Oh, you choose to keep her a secret."

 "Only because she doesn't know how deeply I care for her," he said.  He hadn't known how deeply he loved his Imzadi for the longest time.

 With more than a twinge of sarcasm, she replied.  "Well, you've never hesitated to express your love to other women."

 'Touche,' he thought back.  Aloud he said, truthfully and with heartfelt conviction, "She's not like other women."

 "Well spoken," Deanna's eyes glittered with a mixture of amusement and affection.  "What is she like?"

 "Beautiful, but strangely unaware of her beauty.  Passionate, too, but without any real knowledge of passion," that line was accompanied by mental images of Deanna in the throes of uninhibited passion, eliciting a whimper from his queen.

 Beverly stood up and clapped her hands.  Ignoring Vash's whispered desire for popcorn, she addressed the duo on stage.  "Foreplay later, theatrical play now, please."

 Riker gave the audience of fellow cast members a devilish wink before completing his line.  "Unafraid of love because I don't think she's ever known love; but she's taught me virtue and dignity and wisdom."

 The mental image of her walking down the aisle toward him at their wedding on Betazed and the emotions connected to it brought tears to her eyes.  "You seem to have chosen a paragon among women."

 "Among women and among queens."

 On cue, Deanna stiffened.  "Have you forgotten to whom you're speaking?"

 "No," he answered suavely. "Some men shut their eyes and dream; others open their eyes and hope.  All my life I seem to have been stumbling around as if in darkness.  I am no longer--"

 It was getting hard to separate Don Juan's words to Queen Margaret from Will's sentiments toward her.  "Silence!  You have no right to speak to me that way.  I forbid you."

 "I would never have spoken except by your command," he said.  In reality, hearing about Captain Picard's experience in the future had been a big motivation as well.

 "Then I was wrong to command you, wrong to think that you could ever reform or to believe that friendship and loyalty could ever replace your desire for another conquest."  With those words, doubt surfaced for the first time in her marriage; doubt that Will could, like Don Juan, put his womanizing lifestyle behind him and settle down into domesticity.

 Riker reached for her hand, his forceful words echoing in her heart and mind as loudly as they rang through the room.  "That's not true."

 "You may go, senor."

 "Yes, your Majesty," he rose and exited the stage, anxious for rehearsal to end.

 It was actually another hour and a half before Beverly finally called an end to the night.  Will found Deanna talking with Vash and walked up behind her, sliding his arms around her corseted waist.  He nuzzled the creamy skin along the side of her throat.  "Let's go home."

 "I'm surprised that the two of you are still here after that one scene," Vash commented.

 Deanna accepted the arm that Will gallantly offered and grinned back at Vash.  "We're going now."

 Walking down the corridor, Will used their link to jump into the very private but essential conversation they needed to have.  'All joking aside, Imzadi, I'm not Don Juan.'

 'Of course you're not,' she thought back.  When the turbolift door opened, she stepped inside and took the opportunity to give him a wink.  'You're not nearly old enough--unless you did some time-traveling that I don't know about.'

 He called out their deck number as he shot her a look of amused disgust.  "So what was with your doubts during that one scene?" he asked aloud.

 Two crew members entered the turbolift, preventing her from replying verbally.  'You have changed a lot since the first time we met.'

 'In a good way?' he thought back.  The lift stopped at their deck and he followed her out.  'I like to think I've matured, grown-up and changed my priorities as a result.'

 Finally inside their quarters, Deanna spun to face him, barely waiting for the door to slide shut.  "I've watched you change; seeing you, feeling you around almost all of the time; I just never realized how much you did change over the years until now."

 He wanted to grab her, rip her clothes off and take her long and hard until she was too tired and sated to doubt him.  Instead he only reached out to take her hand in his.  "Back then I was ambitious and women made themselves available to me.  I enjoyed the attention, but it was never quite enough.  I found what I was looking for here on the Enterprise.  I always said it was the prestige of serving on the flagship, but it was more.  I discovered something here that I hadn't had since I was a child."

 "A home," she said quietly.

 "More than that," he replied, removing the pins and jewels from her hair and combing his fingers through the soft curls.  "A place where I felt like I belonged.  I thought I wanted my own ship because it would have been mine, but it turns out that I just wanted to be a part of something."

 Deanna moved into his arms and nuzzled the broad expanse of his chest.  "Those promotions you turned down . . . "

 He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him.  "They would have taken me away from the people here.  I was comfortable and had a family of sorts around me; I didn't want to leave that.  I didn't want to leave you."

 His costume was much more easily removed than his uniform.  She deftly unbuttoned the jacket  and shirt to bare his chest to her lips; his skin was warm and still slightly damp from the exertion of the fight scenes.  Nuzzling the salt-tinged flesh, she took one small, brown nipple on her mouth and began toying with it.  Maybe her earlier doubts came from her character, it didn't matter now with Will's arms surrounding her body as his love and devotion invaded her mind and heart.  Her hands glided across his broad shoulders to slip off his shirt and jacket, continuing to caress him without hindrance.

 He fumbled with the back of her voluminous gown and finally, reluctantly, pulled away to search for an opening to no avail.  "How do you get out of this?  Never mind, it's probably too complicated; wait right there."

 Deanna watched, confused when he abruptly stepped away and walked over to the desk.  He began keying something into the computer.  "What are you doing?" she asked.

 "Making my life easier," he answered with a big grin.  "Computer activate transporter program Imzadi one."  With the telltale whine of the transporter, she disappeared only to reappear in their bedroom, naked.  He picked up her gown that was now laying in a crumpled heap on the floor and strolled into the bedroom.

 "If only you could program the transporter to beam the clothes onto hangers in the closet, that would be a perfect system," she noted wryly.

 Will laid the gown over a chair before crossing over to join her by the bed.  His fingers lightly trailed over the smooth, beautiful curves of her body.  "A single command to the computer beams you directly to my bed already naked.  Life doesn't get much more perfect than that."

 Shivering slightly, she forced herself to remain still and just feel the tendrils of desire sparked by his soft touch.  When his hands cupped her full, aching breasts and began massaging them, her eyes drifted shut to savor the pleasurable sensations.  At some point she became aware of him kicking off his boots, so she reached out to strip off his costume pants and waited for him to shove the fabric off his feet before pushing him onto the bed.  A dozen jokes about commanding him died on her lips as she looked down at him laying there, naked and very aroused.  Tonight was just about them, she decided;  no role playing with Don Juan and Queen Margaret and no past, just the two of them.  She slid her knee along his leg, enjoying the feel of the coarse hair rubbing against her smooth skin before settling her knee on the bed and repeating the process with her other leg to straddle him.  Her hands stroked and caressed the muscled lines of his torso; occasionally she would lightly graze his skin with her fingernails only to rub it away, kneading the firm flesh with just the right amount of pressure.

 He lost track of time as he lay there watching her massage him with an expression of rapt fascination on her beautiful face.  Every time she reached up to his shoulders, her hips brushed against his hard, throbbing length which created a tantalizing, teasing rhythm and his hips were soon writhing beneath her in an effort to get closer to the sweet sensation.  In spite of the almost painful arousal of his body, he was in no hurry.  Re-living his past through the eyes of Don Juan had shown him just how far he'd come in his life and how lucky he truly was to have such a wonderful, gorgeous woman like Deanna to love him even knowing everything she knew about him and his past.  His hands slid up her smooth, lithe thighs and around her hips in a slow, sensuous journey.  One hand trailed across the taut line of her abdomen and dipped down to torment the center of her desire.  Her fingers tightened painfully in his chest hair as her hips began rocking in time with his fingers.  With her body grinding sinuously down against his, they were both groaning and whimpering in heightened pleasure, their movements more frantic and jerky with each passing second.  He loved being able to feel her orgasms; his releases emanated from low in his hips, but hers always seemed to center in his heart.  Increasing the pressure of his fingers, he urged her on and moaned softly when her shudder of release echoed in his chest.

 Laying down on his sweat-dampened chest, she nuzzled the crook of his shoulder contentedly and purred her pleasure when he rolled to reverse their positions.  The appetizer took the edge off her carnal hunger, but she was still anticipating the main course.  She arched up to press her full, aching breasts against the hard wall of his chest; she could feel sparks shoot through her from the short hairs on his chest rubbing across her stiff, tender nipples.  His lips closed over hers, crushing them before his tongue thrust between them and in to plunder her mouth.  With her fingers entangled in his soft, dark hair, she wound her legs around his waist to urge him into her and sighed with satisfaction when his body penetrated her, filling her completely with his thick, pulsing length.  Tightening herself around him, she began pushing her hips up and broke their heated kiss to lick and nibble across his shoulder.  The muscles of his back rippled beneath her fingertips when he began stroking in and out of her body in an easy, almost lazy rhythm.  Each long, slow thrust increased her arousal, slowly and steadily driving her desire higher and higher.

 He could feel the pressure and his pleasure building each time he buried himself in her hot, wet depths.  His fingers gripped her hips tighter and soft grunts escaped his throat as he tried to push in further and further.  His movements sped up, his body more forceful in its demands and his heart beat frantically in anticipation of the feel of an even stronger orgasm from her; he could feel her drawing closer and closer.  He struggled to hold back without slowing down, wanting to enjoy her release before allowing his own.  Closing his eyes, he focused on her pleasure and felt the sparks increasing until his chest was consumed with waves of bliss.  He continued to drive into her with her body spasming around him until his need exploded in a powerful release and he collapsed onto her breathing heavily.

 She couldn't find the words to convey the emotions swirling through her heart and mind at that moment.  Grateful beyond description that she didn't have to, she just opened herself to Will and shared those feelings with him.  Their hearts beat as one, their minds united in love and devotion; together they lay joined, body and soul, all night long.

................................................

 Barclay tried not to think about the upcoming action and focused on his lines.  He stood up as Riker made his entrance.  "Yes, yes, a matter of some importance I wish to discuss with you.  Now, won't you be seated.  I was greatly pleased by the exhibition yesterday; so pleased, in fact, that I feel you should be rewarded.  I have, therefore, prepared a commission which will give you considerable rank in his Majesty's navy.  It also assures you of the King's favor and my own."

 Riker sat back and gave his line in his most suave tone.  "Somehow I feel that your Grace is not in the habit of dispensing favors without expecting something in return."

 "You're quite right, yes.  You have achieved some popularity since you have been at the Academy and I think we should utilize this in the service of our country.  Consequently, I have certain ideas that I should like you to carry out."

 Giving the appearance of being intrigued, Riker shifted in his chair.  "May I hear them?"

 "You may, indeed," Barclay said.  "You will proceed to enlarge the academy, increase the number of young men of military age and add those subjects which will qualify them for immediate enlistment in his Majesty's navy.  We will discuss the details later, in the meantime, here is your  commission."  He handed Riker the scroll in his hand.

 Riker took the scroll and made a show of unrolling and perusing it.  "Oh, very funny," he exclaimed.

 "Wait," Barclay stuttered.  "I'm not finished with my line yet."

 "I think he's referring to the contents of the scroll," Deanna explained, laughing.

 Riker got up, walking over to gently smack her on the hip with the scroll in question.  "I realize that there are quite a few parallels between the Adventures of Don Juan and my own life, but you are enjoying this entirely too much"

 "Don Juan rejects that promotion," Deanna pointed out.

 "And I see the irony of my having rejected several promotions," Riker acknowledged ruefully.  "Behave yourself or I'll give your Majesty a royal spanking."

 Beverly interjected.  "Can we get back to rehearsals, please?  Reg, just pick up where you left off--I was very impressed . . . "

 With Riker back in his chair and the scene reset, Barclay drew his sword and began fencing the air.  "Incidentally, I was very impressed with your general technique yesterday; very good, yes, very good."  He paused and hit the scroll that Riker was pretending to read.  "Well?"

 "It seems to me Your Grace is preparing for war."

 "Does the idea frighten you?" Barclay asked.

 Riker regarded the 'Duke de Lorca' with an air of calm confidence.  "Quite frankly it does.  I'm by nature a peaceful man, your Grace.  It's true I've done some fighting in my time, but it's usually been for something worthwhile, like a beautiful woman.  To risk your skin for a piece of extra ground--that's terrifying."

 "I take it then you do not look with favor upon my proposals."

 "That, your Grace, is an understatement," Riker said.  "In my opinion, your personal ambitions can only lead our country to complete disaster.  If you were my captain, I'd be forced to relieve you of duty."

 "Will," Beverly warned him more exasperated than annoyed.

 Riker shrugged, completely unabashed.  "Sorry, deja vu.  I had a very similar conversation with a captain once."

 Barclay got back into the scene.  He was nervous enough without all of the interruptions delaying the inevitable.  "I wasn't aware that I asked for your opinion.  May I remind you, my dear fellow, that in a conflict one must choose a side.  The middle ground is frequently the most dangerous."

 "I've been in the middle so many times, your Grace, it doesn't disturb me."

 Pasting a contemptuous sneer on his face, Barclay moved closer to where Riker sat.  "I see you prefer to be witty rather than wise."

 "One day I hope to achieve laconic," Riker retorted with a wink and grin at Chakotay who was watching from off-stage.  Before Beverly could say anything, he continued on with his actual line.  "Not at all, I prefer to be on the side of the friends of Spain, not her enemies."

 Barclay slashed near Riker with his sword.  "Next time, I may cut deeper."

 "You have to actually cut him first for there to be a next time," Beverly remarked.

 "My jacket sleeve," Riker quickly added.

 Barclay's nervousness was evident in his voice.  "But what if I ge. . .get too close and m . . . mi--"

 "Reg," Beverly interrupted him.  "More than three-fourths of the cast carry and use various sharp objects at one point or another.  Do you really think I wouldn't be prepared for accidents?  I have two complete medkits here with six dermal regenerators ready to go.  The director is also the ship's Chief Medical Officer and several of my medical staff are in the cast.  I'd rather you get too close than miss him entirely."

 "Hey!" Riker protested.

 Picard put his two cents in.  "As long as you keep the blow below his shoulder, one cut won't be fatal."

 "Thanks," Riker grumbled.  "That's helpful."

 "Just not too far below the shoulder," Deanna requested.  "There are some valuable body parts down there that I'd like to keep attached.  Although, now that I think about it, a scar across his cheek would be very masculine."

 Riker looked around the room at his various tormenters.  "If we're finished discussing where I can and can't be sliced and diced, may I suggest giving him a dull blade so he can get as close as he needs without actually hurting me."

 "Where's your sense of adventure?" Chakotay asked.

 Riker shot him a dirty look.  "Coursing through my veins, which is where I'd like it to stay."

 "All right," Beverly cut off the banter.  "Let's try it again from the top and this time try to cut his sleeve off, Reggie.  I'll fix anything else you inadvertently cut off, I promise."

 Barclay heaved a deep sigh.  "Well, here goes my career."

................................................

 Riker stopped by Ten Forward to grab a quick lunch since Deanna was tied up with patients all afternoon.  He spotted Chakotay studying a PADD as he ate his own lunch alone.  Walking over, he reached for an empty chair.  "Mind if I join you, Commander?"

 Chakotay shook his head and gestured toward the chair.  "Not at all, please.  Beverly's a bit busy between the production and her duties so I was just reviewing lines over a solo lunch."

 "You don't sound like someone who's been bitten with the acting bug," Riker commented, digging into his own lunch.

 Chakotay lapsed into his Leporello character.  "I'm sorry, I seem to be a bit nervous.  These regular hours we're keeping, hard work, lots of sleep, plenty of exercise, good nourishing food and no excitement.  We're not used to these things!"

 "Yes," Riker replied without missing a beat.  "But that's the only way of life for me."

 Chakotay leaned forward, the resonance of these lines with the fading memories of daily life in the Delta Quadrant not lost on him.  "But you'll have to admit that they were exciting days . . . nights."

 "Exciting!  That's very funny coming from you.  Remember those lectures you used to give me?"

 The camaraderie between Leporello and Don Juan was easy to feel with Riker as Don Juan.  Their timing was already solid.  "I'm afraid I'm a bit confused.  The sudden way in which you reformed, one reception at court--"

 "The court didn't do it," Riker jumped in with his line.

 "Well, I thought maybe the Queen . . . "

 Riker puffed out his chest in mock indignation.  "The Queen?  What's the Queen got to do with it?  You've been thinking behind my back.  Merely because I'm trying to lead a good, clean, sensible life, you have to start jumping to conclusions.  Just let me tell you this, whatever my behavior has been in the past or is going to be in the future, the Queen has nothing to do with it.  Is that clear?"

 Chakotay nodded yes and, with a mischievous look, added, "Now the Queen Bee on the other hand . . . "

 Riker snorted and choked on a bite of his lunch.  When he could breathe again.  "Women, thy name is trouble."

 "There must be something more important in life than the pursuit of women."

 "Yes, there must be, but what?" Riker asked melodramatically.

 Chakotay broke up laughing at Riker's perfect portrayal of Don Juan.  "Fireball was right, this part was made for you."

 "Oh?" Riker asked.  "What did she say about it?"

 "Just that you were quite the Don Juan of the stars in your bachelor days," he replied.  "Something about having to remove some cactus needles from your backside after a particularly adventurous picnic."

 "Stories of my conquests have been greatly exaggerated," Riker retorted.

 Chakotay chuckled.  "Do you now pretend to be innocent?"

 "For the things I haven't done, yes."

 Shrugging, Chakotay noted.  "From what I've heard, that still leaves you with a wide margin of guilt.  The conga line of naked, former girlfriends at your bachelor party was certainly impressive.  Of course, it wasn't complete, was it?  Beverly wasn't in it."

 Riker's hand froze, the fork halfway to his mouth.  "You know?"

 "That you're the only other man on this ship who's seen my wife naked?  Yes, she told me about Odan," Chakotay answered.  "And she told me about the last night she had with him thanks to your friendship, understanding and generosity."

 Riker laid his fork on the table and regarded Chakotay.  "Does it bother you?"

 "No," he replied honestly.  "If there was anybody on this ship who posed a threat to what I have with Beverly, they would have made a move long before I came back in her life.  As it is, the only man who has seen the passion that lies beneath that composed facade, other than me, is you and that was because you were host to the symbiont she was in love with.  It does, however, add to your mythos as the Don Juan of the Enterprise."

 Sitting back in his chair, Riker shook his head in amused disgust.  "Yes, of course, my reputation.  Has it ever occurred to your Excellency that if a man, any average man, makes love to a girl, nobody thinks anything of it.  On the contrary, they all smile indulgently and say what a nice, romantic fellow he is.  But if I so much as bow to a lady on the street, all of her relatives start reaching for their daggers and want to carve me up."

................................................

 "Quiet old man, or we'll take you, too."

 "You can't, we are free men."

 In full costume, Riker stood up at his cue and had his sword halfway out of his sheath before remembering that he didn't draw his sword just yet.  They were running full rehearsals for the first time so the fight scenes that had only been practiced were now being played out in the course of the play and it was throwing him off a little.  He slid the sword back down and stepped forward just as the crewman playing the old man went stumbling across the stage.  "What is this disturbance?  Can't you see I'm having my meal?"

 "You shall have a carving lesson to go with it, senor."

 Riker drew his sword with a flourish and parried the first onslaught.  Within the first few moves he was completely into it, adding exclamations into the choreographed sequence and even pausing to pose heroically for the audience.  His eyes sparkled with boyish delight as he played his role to the hilt.

 "Stop," Picard ordered from where he was supervising the action.  "You two are out of position there and in the path of Commander Riker's back swing."

 "I'm supposed to beat you," Riker said, panting slightly from the exertion, "not filet you."

 "All right," Beverly said.  "Let's try it again from where the soup is served."

 Chakotay held up his bowl.  "I'm going to need more soup."

 "How is it that I'm running and jumping all over the stage and you're eating soup?" Riker asked.

 "Typecasting," Chakotay replied with a grin.  "You do all the hard work and I sit back and make laconic comments."

 Riker chuckled and slid his sword back into its sheath; "and eat soup."

 "It says right in the script," Chakotay argued good-naturedly, "Leporello picks up his bowl of soup and moves away from the table."

 Beverly tapped her foot impatiently--and loudly.  "But it doesn't say to eat the props; now, can we reset the scene and try that fight again today, please?"

 "Yes, ma'am," Chakotay and Riker said in unison.

 This time when Riker tried to leap onto the table, he missed and crashed into the edge of the table before falling heavily to the floor.  He sat up with a groan, nursing his leg.

 Chakotay cleared the chairs away for Beverly and retrieved Riker's wayward sword from where he'd dropped it when he fell.  "You okay?"

 "He's fine," Beverly said, snapping her tricorder shut.  She ran a regenerator over the area.  "Just bruised."

 "The first person to make a joke about my age works Gamma shift for the next year," Riker threatened.  "You excluded, sir," he remarked belatedly to Picard.

 "Perhaps we should lower the table by a centimeter or so," Picard suggested with a badly-suppressed grin.

 Riker accepted the hand Chakotay offered and somewhat gingerly climbed to his feet.  "I can jump up on a table of standard height," he insisted.

 Vash and Deanna joined the group clustered around the indignant Don Juan.  "Maybe we could reduce the artificial gravity in this room," Vash suggested.  "You'd be able to leap completely across whole tables that way."

................................................

 Riker and Chakotay walked onto the stage side-by-side, moving very slowly and taking short steps to cover as little of the stage as possible.  With only a few minor, usual glitches, the shipboard production of The Adventures of Don Juan was finishing its debut performance to a packed house.

 "Just ahead lies the road to Lisbon," Chakotay said, gesturing ahead.  His first theatrical performance--probably not his last if Fireball had anything to say about it--had started off with more than a few nerves, but he'd settled in and was actually enjoying the experience.

 "Yes," Riker agreed.  "There's a great new university there, Leporello.  I've decided to devote myself to some serious study, perhaps write my memoirs."

 "Well, it'll be a change, anyway."

 Riker made a show of stretching and sighing.  "At long last lead the peaceful, calm of an academic life.  No more romance, no more the idle search for beauty, no more . . . "

 Right on cue, Robin Lefler in her costume entered from stage right, appearing lost.  She stopped mid-stage, in front of the men, and smiled.  Pointing toward the back of the stage, she asked.  "Dear pardon, senor.  Is this the road to Barcelona?"

 Giving her a charming bow, Riker nodded.  "It is, senora."

 Lefler dropped a curtsey.  "Thank you so very much."

 "Adios," Riker said.  He waited until she had exited the stage in an obviously different direction than Chakotay and he had been going.  He turned and started after her.

 "Juan, no more romance, eh?" Chakotay stopped him.

 Waiting for the chuckles from the audience to die down, Riker gave an exaggerated wink and clapped Chakotay on the shoulder.  "My friend, there's a little bit of Don Juan in every man; but since I am Don Juan, there must be more of it in me."

 As the crowd exploded with applause and laughter, Chakotay softly whispered back.  "There certainly is more of something in you."

**FINIS**