Author's notes:  For more information on Kamala, see the TNG, fifth season episode "Perfect Mate." Yes, the title of this is a play on the title of that.  Feel free to archive to any pertinent site.

As always: Paramount owns all the marbles, we just have a lot more fun playing with them.
Feedback is always appreciated - posted or e-mail.

Whoa Nellie's Picard/Vash Romance Fanfiction website:
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Perfectly Resistible

 Onboard the Enterprise E, Counselor Deanna Troi gazed out the large window in the forward lounge at the beautiful oceanic world of Pacifica.  Deanna could think of a thousand things she'd rather be doing at the moment than playing hostess to a number of self-important diplomats.  Many of the VIP's from the Interstellar Conference currently being held on the planet had requested and been granted tours of the Federation's flagship; the tour had concluded with a small reception in the forward lounge.  Her mother's voice sounded in her head.

 'I'm telling you that woman came here with only one purpose in mind.  You should do something to intercede.  After all, they are your friends, Deanna.'

 'Mother, please just let me do my job,' Deanna thought back, forcing herself to not put a hand to her head.

 'Well, I don't need your fancy psychology degrees to tell me she is . . .Oh how did William put it once . . . a snake in the grass,'  Lwaxana informed her daughter from across the room.

 'She has *done* absolutely nothing at this point, Mother.  Since Captain Picard offered to allow you to stay onboard during the conference so we would have more time to visit, why don't you go ahead and get settled in your guest quarters.  When I'm done here I'll meet you for lunch in my office.'

 'All right, little one,' and with a last, tender, mental caress Lwaxana swept out of the lounge.

 "Counselor Troi?"

 Deanna turned at the soft feminine voice behind her.  Kamala of Vault Minor was a tall, lithe beauty, whose effortlessly graceful movements added to her air of seductive mystique.  The diaphanous material of her robes obscured her feminine silhouette only enough to invite a man to look more closely.  "Kamala of Vault, allow me to express the Federation's condolences to you and the people of Vault Minor on the death of your husband.  Chancellor Alrik was well respected and he will be missed."

 "Thank you," Kamala nodded quickly, barely acknowledging the comment before continuing.  "I'm surprised Captain Picard isn't here.  I thought surely as the ship's commanding officer he would at least make an appearance."

 "I'm afraid the Captain is occupied with ship's business today.  However, I believe his wife and he are planning to attend the banquet at the consulate's palace," Troi answered, a little taken back by the complete indifference she felt in Kamala toward her husband's very recent death.

 "His wife?  Picard is married?!" Kamala stammered in shock.

 'Oh shit!  Nothing's more annoying than my mother being right,' Troi thought to herself, buffeted by the strong emotions coming from the metamorph, disbelief and fierce jealousy followed by staunch determination.  Oh well, the Captain's marriage was public knowledge and Kamala was bound to find out.  Clearing her throat slightly, she continued in her most calming counselor voice, "Captain Picard was married less than a year ago on Earth to Archaeology Councilmember Vash, who heads up the Enterprise's Archaeology department."

 "Thank you for your time, Counselor,"  Kamala replied tightly.  Pivoting on her heel, she turned and left.

 'It's going to be a very long day,' Troi thought with a sigh.  At least, the captain had been unavailable.  She suddenly realized Picard must have seen Kamala's name on the list of diplomats and made himself unavailable.  Glaring up at the ceiling toward the bridge, she muttered under her breath, "A little forewarning from you would have been nice, sir.  And I'll wager my last week's poker winnings you haven't said a word to Vash about this either.  You're nothing if not consistent."

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

 Kamala had found the information she wanted in the Enterprise's extensive library, one of the ship's amenities that had been made available to delegates at the conference.  Archaeology Councilmember Vash's auspicious career as a field archaeologist with all of its colorful adventures and misadventures was well documented.  Much harder, but not impossible, to find was information on the woman's relationship with the starship captain.  The brash, young archaeologist had met Picard on Risa while searching for an archaeological artifact two years before Kamala's own voyage on the Enterprise D.  As she read, she recognized that Archaeology Councilmember Vash must have been the basis for many of the requirements in a mate she had sensed from the captain.  Not that it mattered, Kamala had bonded to him making her his perfect mate.  No other woman could ever sense his needs and fulfill them the way she could.  No man could reject an empathic metamorph in favor of another woman.

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

 "The markings are definitely not Iconian.  That narrows the field down to some version of  Dewan, Iccobar or Dinasian," Vash Picard muttered from where she knelt on the floor of her lab studying the base of a large metal slab.  The markings were obscured by the layers of dust and dirt accumulated over a millennium of neglect on an abandoned planet.  With a small brush, she painstakingly moved a little more dirt aside to reveal just another section of markings.  Standing up, she handed the brush to one of her assistants before wiping her hands on her khaki work pants.  "Barbara, I want you and Dan to work on cleaning this up a little.  Trey and his team are still busy with the measurements on the other artifact from the find.  I'll check my office for any reference materials on variations of those languages."

 On her way toward her office, Vash stopped next to a piece of malfunctioning lab equipment.  Lieutenant Robin Lefler, from engineering, knelt next to it scowling.  "If it's that bad, Robin, I can always requisition a new one."

 Glancing up, Lefler gave the captain's wife an impish grin, "It tasks me!"

 "Of all the things I'd expect a Starfleet engineer to quote, a whale of a tale about a whale and a captain with an ego the size of a whale wouldn't make the cut," Vash chuckled before disappearing into her office.  After going through numerous archaeology journals, she finally found several that would prove useful in determining the etymological roots of the markings on the slab.  Standing in front of her desk, she began to gather up the PADDs that would be helpful to her staff.

 "Archaeology Councilmember Vash," Kamala stood in the open doorway of the archaeologist's office.

 "Yes."  At the sound of her full title, she straightened up and turned around to face the door.  Instantly an old adage came to mind:  a pretty woman will turn boys' heads, a beautiful woman will turn men's heads and a gorgeous woman will turn other women's heads.  The woman standing in the entry of her office definitely fit into the latter category.  The archaeologist found herself feeling a little self-conscious of her dust-covered, work clothes.  Pushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes, she asked,  "May I help you?"

 "It's obvious you're immersed in your research, Professor.  So, I'll get right to the point," the woman's voice was coldly matter-of-fact.  "I am Kamala of Vault.  I was born an empathic metamorph with the ability to sense what a potential mate needs, what gives him the greatest pleasure and become that for him.  At the stage of bonding, a metamorph must imprint upon herself the requirements of one man and serve as his perfect partner for life.  My marriage to Chancellor Alrik had been arranged at my birth to create peace between Vault and my home planet of Krois.  Due to a mishap caused by some Ferengi, I emerged from stasis aboard the Enterprise D before the ship could reach Vault and I bonded to Captain Picard.  Now, with Chancellor Alrik dead and a lasting peace treaty between Vault and Krois, I have completed my role in history.  Captain Jean-Luc Picard is mine and I have come for him.  You could never hope to fulfill his needs and desires the way I can.   If you truly care for him and his happiness you will step aside."

 For the first time in her life, Vash was completely speechless.  Blinking once, her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped at the audacity of what this woman was saying to her.  She was still completely dumbfounded as the woman turned and left.

 Everyone working in the lab had heard the woman's pronouncement.  Robin stood next to Barbara Caldwell, a pretty brunette reminiscent of a younger Vash.  Caldwell was the youngest member of the archaeology lab and considered the professor a mentor.  They watched Kamala saunter out of the archaeology lab.  As the lab door slid shut, the two women glanced at each other and then back at the closed door.  In unison, they both called out, "Bitch."

 "Maybe one of us should check on her?" Barbara suggested in a soft voice, inclining her head toward her boss's office.

 Before the young engineer could respond to the idea, Vash purposefully strode into the room with her head held high and her shoulders squared.  Swallowing once, Lefler greeted her, intentionally emphasizing another of her titles, "Mrs. Picard."

 "Yes, Lieutenant."

 "I happen to know that the captain and Commander Riker have spent most of the day holed up in the captain's readyroom working on systems reports," Robin offered, even though Vash could have easily gotten Captain Picard's location from the computer.

 "Thank you, Robin," Vash managed a small smile.  Handing several PADDs to Barbara, she added, "See what you can do with these, Barbara.  I may or may not be back later this afternoon."

 "Yes, Professor," Caldwell nodded.

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

 Picard looked up with an annoyed expression on his face when he heard his readyroom door open without permission.  An enraged Vash barged into room, slamming her open palm down on his desk, she hissed, "Kamala of Vault.  Start talking, Johnny!"

 'Oh shit!' Riker thought to himself hearing Vash speaking that particular name in her most austere voice;  the voice that usually sent freshmen running for the admissions office to drop her class.  Wanting to get the hell out of Dodge, he began to stand up from the couch, "Maybe I should let you have a few minutes alone."

 Without even glancing at him, she commanded icily, "William, sit.  You're here to keep me from killing him." As the first officer quickly retook his seat, Vash addressed her husband, "You're bonded to another woman!"

 Leaning forward in this chair, Picard asked sharply, "Who told you that?"

 Vash glared at him.  "She did, right before she announced that she had come to claim what was hers, namely you."

 Determinedly not squirming in his seat, Picard decided to try calm reasoning, "Are you sure you didn't misunderstand her, ma chere."

 "The merry widow marched herself into my lab and in front of my entire staff and Lieutenant Lefler declared that she was intent on stealing my husband!  Believe me, there was no misunderstanding her.  She was clear as a bell about her objective!" Vash took some satisfaction when her husband winced at the public nature of the confrontation.  Obviously, the empathic hussy wasn't aware of Jean-Luc's abhorrence to his private life being made public. "You're bonded to another woman and you didn't deem it a relevant piece of information to share with me!"

 "I'm not bonded to her."  With a deep breath, he admitted, "However, she imprinted herself on me.  The Enterprise was taking the Krois's ambassador and Kamala to Vault to seal the peace treaty.  The Ambassador was badly injured by a Ferengi onboard and I was forced to stand in for him.  I considered her unavailable and I did everything possible to discourage her interest."

 "You failed, miserably," Vash shot back, beginning to pace the room.  Catching her reflection in the window, she angrily rubbed at a smudge of dirt on her jawline.

 Picard sighed wearily, "Regardless of her intentions, you have nothing to be concerned about."

 Vash spun on her heel to face him.   "Nothing to concerned about?  She's an empathic metamorph with the ability to sense whatever a man desires and become that for him, genetically engineered to be every man's wet dream.  And the man she has set her sights on just happens to be my husband.  How am I supposed to compete with that?  Have you seen her, she's absolutely gorgeous."

 Screwing his courage to the sticking place, Riker dared to speak, "Vash, do you own a mirror?"  Standing up to face her, he continued, "I may be rushing in where angels fear to tread, but you're not being fair.  You're an incredibly beautiful woman."

 "Yes, she is," Picard agreed with his first officer as he stood up and straightened his jacket preparing to take over his own defense.  As he walked over to his wife, he continued.  "Kamala once described what she would need to become in order to be my ideal mate.  Someone who is independent, forceful, brilliant and adventurous."  Standing in front of Vash, he combed his fingers through her silky hair.  He stared directly into her beautiful blue eyes and stated softly, "You are all those things and so much more."

 "Even like this?" she glanced down at her dusty, shapeless work clothes.

 Noticing that his first officer had discreetly wandered to the far side of the room, Picard murmured in his best bedroom baritone, "Especially like this.  It reminds me of that first night we spent together in the cave on Risa."

 "Stop being suave and charming, I'm not finished being mad at you yet," she retorted, looking up at him through her lashes.  "Are there any other lonely widows out there with the hots for you?"

 "I wouldn't know nor would I care.  I do apologize for not telling you about Kamala when I approved the diplomatic contingent from Vault's request for a tour of the ship.  I was not planning to see her while she was aboard and I--"

 "You chickened out of telling me about her, thinking that I would never find out," Vash finished his sentence for him.

 "Guilty as charged," Picard whispered very quietly in her ear.  "You may impose my punishment later."

 "Promises, promises," she giggled at the imagery.

 Her amusement was cut short by a very ardent kiss.

 After Vash left, Riker tugged on his uniform jacket and did his best impersonation of his C.O., "Nicely done."

 Sitting back down in his desk chair, Picard wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose, "A lesson in command, Number One.  Everything that happens to you will eventually come back to bite you in the ass."

 "Yes, sir," Riker nodded as he sat back down on the couch.

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

 Outside Counselor Troi's office door, Vash hesitated for a moment.  Although talking to Jean-Luc reassured her, it hadn't completely placated her.  She kept playing the contemptuous scene in her office over and over in her head.  She knew that Deanna was having lunch with her mother and hated to intrude.  She started slightly at the Ambassador's voice in her head, 'You're not intruding, my dear girl.  Now, come in and join us for lunch.'

 Walking into the room, Vash gave an exasperated sigh, "Do I get points for not killing him?"

 "If you didn't at least geld him you must be mellowing,"  Deanna chuckled sitting down to lunch.

 Mrs. Troi maternally draped her arm around Vash's shoulder and guided her to a chair.  Sitting down next to Vash, she patted her on the hand, "Now you just tell Lwaxana what happened.  Mr. Homn, a hot chocolate for Mrs. Picard, extra fudge."

 The door chimed just as Vash finished her tale of woe.  Walking in, Beverly Crusher said, "I heard what happened and the computer said you were here."

 "Good news travels fast," Vash replied glumly.

 "Especially on this ship.  How are you doing?"  Beverly asked sympathetically as she sat down on the other side of Vash.

 "I've been better," Vash muttered, taking a drink of her hot chocolate.

 "Did she actually suggest you step aside?"  The doctor sounded astonished.

 "That would more or less be a direct quote."

 Beverly huffed with contempt.  "So now that Alrik is dead and she is a widow, Kamala is convinced she has some sort of God-given right to Jean-Luc and is expecting to be seen as his destined mate.  I'm not sure that is as much gall as it is really pitiful.  What kind of pathetic dolt insists on claiming the consortium of a man, especially this particular man, when she chose to marry another man of her own free will?"

 "You're telling me, Doc," Vash sighed leaning back in her chair.  "I'd never laid eyes on the woman until she stormed into my office and demanded I hand him over to her."

 "All I remember about her is that she was like a sexually-charged, emotional rollercoaster ride with Sybil at the switch.  Her personality seemed to change incessantly as she came on hot and heavy to every man that crossed her path from Will to Worf to the group of miners who were onboard.   When she finally settled on Jean-Luc as her target she continually threw herself at him so hard that I thought she was going to end up in my sickbay with severe internal injuries,"  Beverly recounted as Mr. Homn set a drink down in front of her.

 "He never slept with her?" Vash queried, somewhat taken by surprise.

 The doctor shook her head no.  "I happen to know for a fact that he never touched her."

 "He told me he had done his best to discourage her.  Still, I assumed that for her to have bonded to him they must have . . ." Vash didn't really wanting to articulate the rest of her thought.

 "I think the term imprinted would be more accurate than bonded in this case . . . like a duckling,"  Deanna corrected.  "Ducklings, as well as many other animals, are genetically designed to imprint themselves on any moving object that just happens to be around within fifteen hours of birth.  During this critical period, they will become attached to and follow anything fitting that general description."

 For the first time, Vash smiled, "Counselor, are you saying that all this is nothing more than Jean-Luc being in the wrong place at the wrong time and having . . . the right appendage."

 "Precisely," Deanna concurred inwardly amused by the summation of the situation. "Vash, the captain is passionately in love with you.  He is deeply committed to you and your marriage.  He has no inclination to stray.  You need to trust him."

 "Very nice, Little One," Lwaxana offered rolling her eyes.  "Spoken like a woman who's never been married."

 "Mother,"  Deanna grumbled letting her head fall to the table with a soft thud.  Feeling amusement over the mother/daughter interaction lift Vash's mood slightly, she decided it was worth the small amount of frustration.

 Mrs. Troi continued undaunted.  "Deanna is right that Jean-Luc loves you very much and you should trust him.  However, I would not trust our metamorphic friend any farther than I could throw her.  I did a little checking after I left Deanna in the lounge this morning.  It seems that Miss Kamala of Vault has already been scheming.  The conference will be concluding with a large formal reception at the Consul's palace, which is considered to be one of the most beautiful and romantic places in this sector.  A select group of VIP's will receive invitations to stay the night after the reception.  I discovered that Jean-Luc's name was added to the list by special request of the Vault delegate.  The suite of rooms assigned to Jean-Luc will be side-by-side with Miss Kamala's suite on the third floor with balconies overlooking the royal gardens and the ocean.  One can only assume she intends on using her empathic connection to seduce him."

 "Jean-Luc can't turn down an invitation to the palace overnight.  He's representing the Federation and the Consul would consider it an insult," Vash huffed with frustration.  "That's just great!  How am I supposed to compete?   I'm not an empath."

 "No you're not and she's not a telepath.  However, I am," Lwaxana noted succinctly.  Adding in a soothing, maternal tone,  "Now, I've quietly arranged for your name to be included on the invitation for the reception as well as the night at the palace--not that Jean-Luc wouldn't have thought to bring you along anyway, but details are important.  My dear, here is how you're going to use the tart's own empathic sense and fixation on your husband to send her packing for good . . ."

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

 "Come on in, Will."

 Stepping into Deanna's quarters, Will Riker smiled as he openly admired the vision of feminine perfection in front of him.  With only thin spaghetti straps to hold it in place, a turquoise column of glistening satin clung to the lush curves of the counselor's petite frame.  The slit that ran up the front left side of the gown's skirt parted to reveal a shapely length of leg with each step.  The delicately exotic features of Deanna's face were perfectly framed by her two ringlets of dark, silky hair, the rest of which was swept back into a long cascade of soft curls tumbling down her back.  His voice was slightly husky.  "You look beautiful, Imzadi."

 "Thank you," Deanna flushed slightly at the intense, emotional reaction he had to her.

 "Now, tell me again how you got out of wearing one of these?"  Will tugged uncomfortably at the collar on the white jacket of his dress uniform.

 "Because my invitation was through my mother and not Starfleet," she cooed as she moved to stand just in front of him.  Reaching up, she brushed a small piece of lint from his broad shoulder.

 Not resisting temptation, Will gathered Deanna in his arms and lowered his head to hers.  Her lips were soft and yielding under his and they parted pliantly to the gentle pressure of his tongue.

 As she felt the familiar spiral of desire begin to build, she forced herself to break the kiss and  whispered.  "Later, Imzadi.  We don't want to be late tonight."

 Reluctantly, he reined in his passions and released her.  "Is there something special about tonight that I don't know?"

 Deanna smiled enigmatically and slipped her communicator into her handbag.  "Just another dog-and-pony show."

 "Deanna Troi, I have known you too long and too well.  You look like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary."

 Gliding through the doorway with Will behind her, she shrugged.  "To quote Data's favorite sleuth, 'something is afoot' and no, Imzadi, you really don't want to know."

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

 Kamala's eyes searched the magnificent ballroom of the Consul's palace.  Along one wall were three immense archways leading to the elaborate royal gardens.  In front of the center archway a small orchestra played classical music from dozens of different worlds.  Beneath the melodious strains of the orchestra the soothing sounds of the garden's many elegant fountains and the ocean surf lapping against the shore could be heard.  She finally caught sight of  Captain Jean-Luc Picard, his natural, commanding presence apparent in the way he carried himself.   In full dress uniform, he was quite dashing.  Watching him converse with several delegates, Kamala noticed that Archaeology Councilmember Vash was no longer standing next to him.  Glancing around, she quickly found the archaeologist immersed in conversation with the Arbazan and Tellarite delegates, both of whom were well-known archaeology enthusiasts.  Realizing this was her chance, Kamala surreptitiously smoothed the diaphanous material of her silvery white robes before moving toward Picard's direction.

 While relating the story of how she met Jean-Luc while on Risa finishing Estragon's work on the Tox Uthat, Vash heard Mrs. Troi's voice in her head, 'Posts everyone.  Commence Operation Merry Widow.'  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Deanna take up a position near Jean-Luc and Beverly positioning herself half-way between Jean-Luc and Vash's location to keep the line of vision between them free.  She smiled inwardly as Lwaxana cornered a very impatient-looking Kamala of Vault.  Reaching a rather humorous part, Vash continued her story to the two delegates.

 Picard listened attentively as the Rigelian, Frunalian and Lyaaran delegates debated the ramifications of the trade agreement just voted on at the conference.  Occasionally, he would comment on the various complexities involved in the navigation of the different trade routes.  Unexpectedly hearing Vash's sprightly laughter somewhere in the background, he turned toward her.  With her head just slightly tilted back as she laughed, her dark hair fell in soft waves just past her shoulders.  The two-piece, shimmering peach evening gown tantalizingly bared the smooth, flat plane of her slender midriff.  The scoop neckline of the long sleeved top provided an enticing décolletage.  The gown's sarong-styled skirt hung on the feminine curve of her hips with a slit that ran up the center and parted to reveal a long, supple length of leg with each step.  Although he knew the evening gown was new, there was something so familiar about the sight of her in it.  'Risa.'  For a fleeting moment, it was the first time he had laid eyes on her when she had thrown her arms around his neck passionately kissing him in the resort's lobby.  He vividly recalled the jolt to his senses the feel of her lush lips pressed against his had been.  The evening gown she was wearing happened to be an iridescent silk copy of the captivating outfit she had worn during that first encounter on Risa.

 Discerning the Captain's emotional shift, Deanna swept her long curls over one shoulder combing her fingers through them.  Her sense of arousal unexpectedly intensified just before she felt Will's arms encircle her waist.

 "Wouldn't you prefer my hands stroking you like that?" Riker leaned down to huskily whisper in Deanna's ear.

 "You're obscuring me," she hissed.

 "But . . . I'm behind you."

 Deanna waved impatiently. "Wrong sense.  Go play somewhere else for a while."

 As Will moved off, Deanna could once again differentiate the captain's emotions from the rest of the surroundings.  An electric charge shot through her as the captain's eyes met Vash's.  She watched as Vash lowered her head, peeking demurely through her lash before coyly averting her gaze to toy with her necklace.  Warm, sexual emotion quickly turned hot as Vash dragged the heart-shaped locket across the smooth creamy slopes of her breasts.  'The first cast has been made.'  Deanna chuckled to herself.  As a waiter strolled by, Vash plucked a chocolate covered strawberry from the tray.  'Oooh props!'  Vash's small pink tongue darted out to swirl erotically around the sweet confection.  She was prepared for the captain's reaction but even then the intensity surprised her.  The captain fought to rein in his response even as Vash deftly popped the small strawberry into her mouth.  Without looking, Deanna knew the captain had tugged on his uniform jacket, squared his shoulders and taken a deep breath, pulling his chin in slightly with a just a hint of a self-deprecating smile.  Vash tossed a brief, playful smile at him before seeming to revert her attention to the conversation.  For his part, the captain returned to his own conversation;  however, Deanna could tell that his real focus never wavered from his wife.

 'Mother?' Deanna sent the thought across the room.  'Vash is getting him wound up, how is the Vault delegate doing?'

 "Oh but my dear Kamala, how could you possibly manage that without a conciglieri?"  Lwaxana was in her element, totally dominating the conversation.  'She can tell, every telepath and empath in the room can tell that the good captain in getting hot and bothered.  She's getting agitated and she thinks I'm annoying.  She hasn't seen anything yet.'

 Satisfied that everything was going according to plan, Deanna turned her attention back to Vash and the captain.  Standing in a casual hip-hitched pose as she listened to the Arbazan delegate, Vash seemingly inadvertently brushed the fingertips of one hand across her bare midriff reigniting Picard's burning need.  Deanna twirled a lock of hair around her finger.  'Well, that explains the bellybutton baubles Vash bought on Risa,' she thought to herself.  Two rather handsome men, members of the Pacifica delegation, joined the group Vash was talking with.  A sharp stab of desire shot through the captain, nearly making Deanna moan aloud.  One of the men gestured, offering Vash a nearby chair.

 A heated argument broke out between two of the delegates who stopped right in Picard's line of sight to exchange their differing opinions.  Beverly quickly moved in.  Deanna didn't know what was said, but the delegates moved off toward the gardens, presumably to finish their conversation outside.

 Seeing the disruption, Vash had taken her time, waiting until the way was clear once again before she gracefully slipped into the chair.  She crossed her legs, causing the skirt of her gown to fall open and expose the shapely length of her legs up to mid thigh.  Picard's passions flared white hot.  Deanna continued to toy with her hair, picking up handfuls of it and releasing it slowly, to stream down the front of her shoulder.  As fascinated as the captain was with his wife's navel, it was nothing compared to his lust for her legs.  Vash's evening purse fell to the floor in front of her chair and she bent over to retrieve it--an ostensibly innocent action that must have provided the captain with quite a view.  Deanna's senses were buffeted by the strong wave of heated arousal that the movement provoked in Picard.  Attempting to stabilize her own emotions, Deanna joked to herself, 'Whoa Johnny, I thought Billy was the breast man on the bridge.'   Catching her husband staring, Vash gazed at up at Picard with a seductive, enigmatic expression as she slowly sat up straight in her chair.

 'She's reading every nuance, Deanna,' Lwaxana sent the mental update across the room.  'It's working like a charm.'

 Beverly surreptitiously coaxed a group of delegates a half meter over after they stopped to talk in the line of sight.

 Her own heart pounding with arousal, Deanna watched as, with a slight toss of her hair and a flirtatious smile, Vash graciously accepted the glass of champagne that one of the attractive Pacifica delegates handed her.  'Bravo, Vash!  There's nothing like a little healthy, male competition to spur on a man like the captain,' Deanna praised silently as she watched Vash hold court with her admirers.   The captain was no longer even pretending interest in the conversation near him.  As the delegates vied for her attention, Vash took a sip of her champagne.  Deanna inhaled sharply at the sexual desire that surged in Picard as Vash's eyes locked with his over the rim of her goblet.  Lowering the goblet, Vash held the base in one hand running the index finger of her other hand delicately around the rim before moving down to the stem.  Lingeringly, Vash began stroking up and down the stem with her fingertips.  The captain's need pulsed through Deanna's mind demanding satisfaction with each caress of Vash's fingers along the crystal stem.   Deanna took a deep breath to center herself,  'I sit at the feet of a master.  She's managed to turn a crystal goblet into a phallic symbol.'   Vash wet her lips seductively with just the very tip of her tongue.  Casually, she sat back in her chair and stretched, provocatively arching her back and then she crossed her legs in the opposite direction they had been in.  As an intense wave of determination combined with the captain's lust, Deanna smoothed her trembling hands down her dress, her body throbbing in time with Picard's.  'Oh my . . .  Imzadi.  You're about to get so lucky and you won't have a clue as to why.'

 'Mother, he's as tightly wound as she can get him in public, not to mention me.  Release Kamala, he's going to be heading over to Vash any second,'  Deanna flipped her hair behind her as a signal to everyone that Picard was on the move.

 Quickly excusing himself from the Rigelian, Frunalian and Lyaaran delegates, Picard began to cross the room toward his wife.  Half way to his objective, he was stopped.  He forced himself to tear his eyes from the enticing sight of his wife to cordially acknowledge the delegate.  "Kamala of Vault, allow me to express my condolences to you on the death of your husband."

 "My, such formality, Captain Picard," Kamala purred seductively.  She lowered her voice.  "You, of all people, should realize there is no reason to express condolences on Chancellor Alrik's death to me.  It was simply a political marriage.  Chancellor Alrik was not the man I bonded to.  It was not his requirements for a perfect mate that I imprinted upon myself."

 Thoroughly distracted by the teasing way Vash continued to play with her champagne goblet,  Picard hadn't really heard the second part of Kamala comment.  Moving past Kamala, Picard mumbled, "You'll have to pardon me.  I need to see my wife."

 Vash watched as Jean-Luc strode resolutely toward her with raw passion blazing in his steel-grey eyes.  The crisp, white jacket trimmed with gold braiding and the fitted black trousers of his dress uniform emphasized his sleek, muscular build.  Her heart thudded with his every step, the anticipation of what she had begun building to a crescendo.

 "Please excuse the interruption.  However, it is getting late and I've decided it's time for me to reclaim my wife," Picard's tone was cordial as he addressed Vash's suitors.

 "A very understandable decision, Captain," one of the Pacifica delegates replied pleasantly.  "If I had such a lovely wife I'd never let her out of my sight."

 "Rest assured, gentlemen.  She never left my sight," the captain corrected, casting a meaningful look at his impish wife.  He gallantly offered his right hand to help her from her chair.  "Petite amie?"

 "Of course, Jean-Luc," Vash's voice was soft and seductive as she laid her left hand in his right and stood up next to him.  She graced her admirers with a charming smile.  "Goodnight, gentlemen."

 Standing together with contented smiles, Lwaxana, Deanna and Beverly watched the Picards leave the hall.  Will Riker walked up behind them and teased.  "That was quite a show you ladies put on.  I looked high and low, but I couldn't seem to find a saucer of cream large for the three of you to share."

 Beverly raised an amused eyebrow as she looked over at Deanna,"Did I miss something or did the love of your life just call our actions 'Catty.' "

 "He did," Deanna chuckled, shifting back against the strong, solid body of her Imzadi.  The captain's arousal had fired her own needs and they were still begging for release.

 "Now, William . . ." Lwaxana's playful admonishment was cut off by Beverly.

 "Incoming," Crusher warned under her breath as Kamala stalked toward the group.

 "How dare you!" the Vault delegate, hissed stopping to stand in front of Lwaxana.  "You interfering--"

 "What I did was keep you from making a fool of yourself, child," Ambassador Lwaxana Troi answered in an imperious manner befitting a Daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed.  "Everyone in this hall knows that Captain Picard is a married man.  Learn from the history of your own worlds.  The empathic metamorph, Garuth, loved two brothers, Krois and Vault, causing the civil war that divided their empire.  Obviously your precious imprinting during development is not as all-powerful as you would have everyone believe.  Your obligation to your people is over and you are still young and beautiful.  Find a man of your own.  Jean-Luc Picard will never be yours, his wife and he are what my people call imzadi.  You have felt the power of their bond for yourself, you could never hope to break it."

 After Kamala of Vault spun on her heel and stormed off, Deanna sighed, "Even though she knows what you said is true, she isn't ready to give up yet, Mother."

 "She's heading to her suite of rooms, Little One; sometimes people just have to learn things the hard way."  Lwaxana gently touched her daughter's cheek before heading off into the crowd calling, "Come along, Mr. Homn.  It's time to go."

 Watching Deanna bite her lower lip and squirm restlessly against Riker, Beverly decided it was time to make a discrete exit.  "I have an early day tomorrow, so I'm going to beam up to the ship.  Goodnight you two."

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

 Reaching their suite of rooms on the third floor of the palace, Picard tapped the keypad and the door slid open.  As Vash preceded him through the door, she noticed that the luxurious suite closely resembled the ones at the Risan resort.  She walked across the front room and threw open the doors that led to the suite's small balcony.  Taking a step out onto the balcony, she leaned her elbows on the chest-high stone wall and gazed out over the beautiful gardens and the starlit ocean beyond.  Enjoying the gentle breeze against her face, she listened as the soft strains of the orchestra combined with the sounds of the ocean surf.

 Picard's eyes hungrily raked over his beautiful wife, his expression revealing his intense desire for her.  He knew that she had been deliberately playing with him at the reception, taunting him to get him to come to her and, as usual, she'd won.  His body had been throbbing painfully by the time he'd conceded victory and gone to her.  Not that his submission was anything new, somehow Vash always managed to control her passion until his own control was gone--at least in public.  Here in private, he could enjoy watching her release herself to utter sensation.  The provocative two-piece evening gown she was dressed in drew attention to her curvaceous silhouette, the graceful arch of her spine and the soft, ivory skin of her bare midriff.  As she bent to look out over the balcony, the muscles of his body tensed in an ardent response to the way the flimsy material of her skirt clung to the flare of her hips and the perfect roundness of her backside.  He stalked toward her impatiently unfastening the clasp on the tight collar of his dress uniform jacket.

 "You should see this view,"  she gushed turning back around toward the open doorway.  She inhaled sharply, startled to find him standing right inside the doorway.

 "Is this what you've wanted to accomplish all evening, my mischievous siren?"  Picard growled deep in his throat, reaching out to sweep her into his arms.  His mouth descended onto hers, crushing her lips beneath his in a forcefully possessive kiss.  Stealing between her parted lips, his tongue plundered the depths of her mouth searching for and finding hers.  His hands moved to span the smooth, bare skin of her slim waist pressing her back against the doorway as her soft moan of surrender drove his urgency up another notch.

 The impassioned timbre of his masterful voice sent Vash's pulse racing.  Her breathing was shallow, her lungs struggling to inhale but with every breath, his scent overwhelmed her.  A fiery surge of arousal coursed through her as her lips and tongue battled his.  Her hands moved to rest on Jean-Luc's shoulders, feeling the sinewy muscles of his shoulders through his dress uniform and thrilling at the breadth of them compared to her tiny palms.  Goosebumps puckered her satiny skin from the stirring heat of his powerful hands against her cool skin.  Her breasts swelled, urging him to caress them, and the peaks stiffened to attention, demanding in their need.  Her entire body felt as if it were made of liquid flames.

 After her seductive performance at the reception, his need was agonizing in its intensity.  As his mouth continued to attack hers in a savage kiss, he lowered one hand slipping it into the slit of her gown and sliding it up the soft skin of her inner thigh.  His discovery that she wasn't wearing any panties under the gown's skirt fired his imagination.  Had she worn any that day on Risa?  Reaching his destination, his fingertips barely brushed the center of her desire.  He rasped hoarsely into her mouth, "You're wet, petite amie."

 The brief touch of Jean-Luc's fingertips as they grazed her damp, tingling flesh left Vash aching with need.  She arched against him, crushing her breasts against his chest and feeling her nipples grazing across his own hardened nipples through the fabric of their clothes.  Again he ravaged her mouth, the coarse rasp of his tongue along the sensitive depths sending heated waves crashing over her.  After that one teasing caress, his hand moved to grip her thigh.  Pulling it up to his hip, he wrapped her leg around his waist and pressed her forcefully against the doorway. Vash gasped as she felt his hard length throbbing against her.  'When had he managed to undo his uniform trousers?  He wouldn't . . . not here on the balcony . . . Have I actually driven him to the point of wantonly taking me in an open doorway?'  she wondered  in complete disbelief even as an electrifying, erotic thrill sent her desires spiraling even higher at the illicit thought.

 "You've won, Vash," Picard's voice was thick with lust as he snarled into her mouth, impaling her with one deep, thrust.  Her cry of passion was muffled as his mouth seized hers in yet another demanding feral kiss.  The cadence he set was a rhythm of furious intensity.  The slick depths of her body were so hot and tight, gripping him with each thrust, frantically clutching at him in uncontrolled passion.  Her fingers dug into his shoulders as small noises came from her the back of her throat.  He drove into her with an ever increasing urgency, his body craving more of this, more of her.

 With her small body caught between the doorway and her husband's lean, muscular frame, Vash abandoned herself to the strength and sheer virility of Jean-Luc's masculine presence.  As his body impaled her over and over, the heat and fullness of each thrust sent torrents of intense sensations flooding over her.  She pressed her mouth harder against his as his tongue ravished her mouth in a taunting imitation of what he was doing to her body.  With each thrust, he buried himself inside her, filling her completely and pushing her back against the doorway.  An overpowering pressure was building inside her and every sensation was magnified.

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

 Languid sexual emotion combined with amusement washed over Deanna from her Imzadi.  Although she had purposely kept herself from projecting to him, she knew he had very adroitly interpreted the visible signs of her arousal.  With her body's torrid desires simmering just below the surface, Deanna took his Will's arm and suggested, "It's a beautiful night and I've heard the palace's gardens are exquisite.  Why don't we take a walk?  I could use some fresh air."

 "Yeah, I bet you could," Riker chuckled softly as he led her toward the gardens.  Walking down a winding path surrounded by exotic flowers and elegant fountains, he leaned in to her ear to tease, "What's the matter, Counselor?  Has your little prurient interlude of empathic voyeurism left you hot and bothered?"

 Trying desperately to ignore the seductive tickle of his breath against the sensitive swirls of her ear, Deanna countered, "It was for the greater good with nothing purient about it.  Moreover, Vash did it all on her own.  All I did was leave myself fully open to ascertain as thoroughly as possible the direction of the captain's emotions."

 "And your mother?"

 "The Betazed delegate simply engaged the Vault delegate in a lengthy conversation," Deanna answered trying to sound as innocent as possible.

 "And the good doctor's part in this little play would have been . . . ?" Riker inquired as they walked farther away from the party and deeper into the starlit solitude of the gardens.

 "Beverly made sure the line of fire was kept clear."

 "I see."  Shaking his head, he continued, "Now this whole thing has Lwaxana or Vash written all over it, but it's not like you at all."

 "Really.  May I remind you who was Kamala's first mark for seducement when she emerged from her so-called cocoon?"  Deanna eyed him meaningfully from the corner of her eye.

 "I told you about that?"  His step faltered slightly.

 "Uh huh.  As I remember it, you admitted to barely making it out of her quarters with your fly zipped.  The old Earth saying 'There but for the grace of God go I,' comes to mind.  Vash actually handled this with a great deal of discretion; after all, there were no broadswords involved.  Kamala would have found me a much less gracious adversary."

 Riker winced inwardly at the broadsword reference.  Vash had never let the captain live down his performance in Q's little Robin Hood scenario.  Now, Deanna was using it to skewer him.  The mischievous smile she flashed led him to think maybe she was spending too much time with Mrs. Picard.

 "I am my mother's daughter," she cooed as she sauntered ahead of him.

 Hurrying after her along the path, he almost bumped into her as she stopped cold in her tracks.

 Deanna moaned aloud as a staggering wave of arousal crashed over her, sending her desires spiraling out of control once again.  She hadn't yet managed to get her barriers back in place after the evening's excitement, so the unusually intense emotion swept through her like a hurricane.  When she looked up, her eyes found the Picards' balcony and the source of the emotion became quite obvious.  Sensing Will presence next to her she leaned against his strong, solid body.

 Riker looked up to see what had caught Deanna attention.  On a third floor balcony, Picard and Vash stood in a doorway engaged in an impassioned kiss.  "There, you see?  All is right with world.  The captain is sharing a romantic, starlit kiss with his *wife*."

 "They're not kissing . . . I mean they're not *just* kissing,"  Deanna gasped, failing to control the shudders of need that quaked through her body.  With her mind overwhelmed by dueling desires, she couldn't tell what came from Vash versus the captain.

 "Come on, Captain Picard?"  Riker expressed in utter disbelief.  "You're kidding!"

 "No, I'm not kidding, Will,"  she managed to shake her head, gripping the hard bulge of his upper arm for balance.  Even as she struggled to banish the emotion, she knew that it was hopeless--she was caught in the vortex of erotic desire.

 "With the wall in the way, they're only visible from the chest up.  Are you sure?"  He wrapped one arm around her waist to hold her steady.

 "Yes . . . Look . . . closer  . . . Vash's shoulders . . . the doorframe," Deanna panted between ragged breaths.

 It was becoming more and more difficult for Riker to ignore the provocative sight Deanna's obvious sexual arousal.  He stared up at the balcony again.  Sure enough, with her mouth crushed beneath Picard's in a deep kiss, Vash's shoulders were being pushed up and back against the doorframe; the libidinous nature of the rocking motion was undeniable.  The first officer couldn't believe what he was seeing.  Captain Jean-Luc Picard, a man legendary for his self-control, was ravishing his wife in an open doorway.  Riker quickly turned away peering into darkness and secluded recesses of the garden searching for anyone else.  He was relieved to find the garden completely deserted.  He risked another look.  Holy shit!  He was really screwing the hell out of Vash up on that balcony.  Turning to Deanna, he muttered under his breath, "What did you women do to him?"

 "Oh God, Will!  One of them is so close!"  A heated moan escaped Deana's lips as her trembling hands gripped the strong arm around her waist tightly using every once of control she had not to move them down to her own throbbing wetness.  Urgency mounting into an explosive force pulsed through her mind with every heartbeat.  Her knees buckled as she pleaded, "Oh please, Imzadi . . . This is too much . . . I need you . . . powerful lust . . . carnal heat taunting this desperate ache, Imzadi, please . . . it's so intense  . . . only you can release me from this torment . . . now, Will, now!"  Overwhelming pressure finally detonated in a cataclysmic release of wave after wave of pleasure

 As he held Deanna's petite frame tightly against him, Riker glanced back up at the balcony.  Vash's body was arched upward with her head thrown back in a silent scream of ecstasy and the captain's face buried in the curve of her neck.  'Two lovely birds of paradise with one stone.  Only you could manage that, Picard.'  Riker silently saluted.  'It's just too damn bad you'll never know.'  He gazed down at Deanna.  The exquisite exotic features of Deanna's face were flushed with her arousal.  He watched as the full curves of her breasts rose and fell, threatening to escape the low neckline of her gown with each trembling breath.  Dear God, she was breathtakingly beautiful like that.  In a soft, low voice, he teased, "Was it good for you?"

 Looking up at the massive man who held her, her eyes glittered in the darkness.  "Imzadi, I'm just getting started," she purred seductively.  The white hot emotions of the vicarious release had left her entire body highly sensitized and pulsating erotically.  She decided Will had been sitting on the sidelines entirely too amused by her predicament.  Delicate, manicured nails wound into his hair, pulling his head down to crush her lips to his in a deep, ravenous kiss.  Her tongue flicked against his lips, coaxing his mouth open, and allowing her to begin a thorough exploration of the warm, moist cavern.  She could feel the entire length of his hard, muscular form against her.  Her breasts crushed up against the expanse of his chest, the taut peaks grazing solid muscle sending sparks radiating through her from the aching crests.  As her mind reached out to his, her thoughts were consumed with an uncontrollable desire.  She found him already charged with anticipation and shared her own excruciating need with him.  Their bond intensified the mutual desire, the throbbing of his body thrumming through her mind even as her own desire fired his need to meet hers.

 Blood pounding furiously in his ears, he tightened his arms around her waist and lifted her against him, not sure if the momentary annoyance at the feeling of layers of clothing between them was her feeling or his.  Nothing existed but the dark, beautiful woman in his arms.  The moss around the base of some nearby bushes made a soft bed, drawing a whimper from Deanna at the imminence of satiation.  He knelt over her, struggling to breathe through the firestorm of need, when a spark blazed through him.  Suddenly, he was feeling the ground against his back, his trousers being ripped open and shoved down his legs.  He couldn't separate where he ended and she began anymore, his mind lost in a swirl of desire, both hers and his own.

 They were so close, completion was so near, the frustration flickered through Deanna at how long Will was taking to end this painful pleasure.  Surging against him, she pushed him over onto his back and attacked him, stripping away the barriers to what she needed.  Tearing off her own underwear, she straddled him and balanced herself with her palms against his heaving chest.  Words weren't necessary, their minds already joined, so without further preamble she mounted him.  Impaling herself, they both moaned aloud at the sensation of being buried completely into one another.  Her dress was bunched around her waist and she felt the cold air against her nipples as he pulled the top down to cup her breasts, kneading them strongly.  The pressure of his hands added to her own need and, by extension, his.  She dug her knees into his sides and began driving herself onto him in a desperate race to reach the pinnacle of this heat.  Their hearts pounded in unison, their bodies in perfect sync with each other as their minds entwined.  There was no sound but slickened flesh caressing and stroking desperately.  She could feel him, he was almost there.  She leaned forward on her hands, increasing the tempo of her movements, slamming herself down onto him harder.  His body pierced hers, a sense of filling and being filled intermingling through their desire-hazed minds.  At the split second before his release, she tightened herself around him.  His hips bucked strongly against her and his orgasm triggered hers, blinding heat exploding through their joined consciousness.

 Fading sparks of electricity tingled through his body as Deanna collapsed against him.  His hands cupped her hips, holding her tight against him so that their intimate connection wouldn't be broken just yet.  She was still wrapped in his mind, a sensation that made their sex so much sweeter than he'd ever found with anyone else.  Being able to feel her inside him during their intimacy and afterward, as their passions waned following their release was a warmth that added an entire dimension to their bond.  Slowly he became aware of their surroundings.  He shifted uncomfortably against the scratchy moss under his bare hind end.  "If I'm laying in anything poisonous, I don't want to hear a single snicker from Beverly after *you* explain it to her."

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

 A thin film of perspiration covering him, Picard rested his forehead against the doorway, utterly drained from the physical exertion.  Vash's long leg was still wrapped around his hip and her fingers clutched his shoulders through his dress uniform, her tiny frame racked with tremors.  With each shudder, a small whimper punctuated her ragged breathing.  The sharp edge of his lust abating, he began to pull back slightly.  As his face brushed past hers, she turned to press a soft, sweet kiss on his cheek.  The tender gesture of devotion, so incongruous with the raw lust of the past few moments, was overwhelming in its simplicity.  It always astounded him how this woman could go from succubus to seraphim in the blink of an eye.  Looking down at her, his attention was drawn to her rose-petal lips, now passion-swollen from his relentless kisses.  A heated flush had swept up her ivory skin from the neckline highlighting her delicate features.  Her eyes fluttered open, pools of liquid blue gazing adoringly up at him through thick lashes.

 Vash's hands slipped from Jean-Luc's shoulders to the hard expanse of his chest feeling the powerfully corded muscles beneath his white, uniform jacket.  Her leg slowly slid from his hip down his leg until she was once again standing normally, the fabric of his trousers coarse against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.  She searched his handsome, chiseled features to find his steel-grey eyes filled with desire and  affection.  Barely audible, her voice quavered slightly, "Jean-Luc."

 "Je t' aime, Vash," Picard vowed in a low, bedroom baritone burying his hands in her dark hair.

 Vash's insides turned upside-down at the declaration of love and  warm timbre of  Jean-Luc's voice.  Her eyes drifted shut as he lowered his face to hers, his lips brushing each eyelid in turn before moving to drop kisses on her forehead.  He nuzzled her cheeks, his warm breath tickling her skin, and ended his affectionate exploration with a lingering kiss on the very tip of her nose.  His brief, feather-like kisses made her yearn for more.  Her lips opened pliantly under his as his mouth finally found hers for a long, slow, passionate kiss.  When he slipped his tongue past her parted lips to gently stroke the warm, moist cavern of her mouth, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered.  The sweetness of his kiss was aching in its tenderness.  She melted into him, reveling in the unhurried passion.  When he finally broke the kiss, she echoed in a soft whisper, "Je t' aime."

 His appreciative gaze followed his fingertips along her smooth cheek to trail down the graceful arch of her neck.  His fingertips slid past the plunging neckline of  her peach gown to trace the swell of her breasts.  Quietly, he marveled, "Mon Dieu, you're even more beautiful now than you were that first afternoon on Risa."

 Vash demurely averted her eyes, looking down at her evening gown.  "You remembered?"

 "How could I forget the first time I ever laid eyes on you or the little two-piece number you were wearing?" Cupping her cheek with his palm, he slipped his thumb under her chin to bring her gaze up to his.  "Although somewhat modest by Risan standards, the outfit bared just enough to completely distract and disarm a vacationing starship captain, especially when the charming nymph wearing it suddenly threw herself into his arms and kissed him."

 "I did make something of a first impression, didn't I?" she quipped in a softly coquettish voice.

 "A delightfully  memorable one, ma cherie," Picard replied in a deep resonating whisper while gazing into her brilliant blue eyes.  Sweeping his lovely wife up into his arms, he carried toward the bedroom.

 A small sigh escaped Vash's lips as she felt his powerful arms lifting her effortlessly.  She slid her arms around his neck and let her head fall to rest on his shoulder, listening to the rapid pounding of her own heart.  She lost herself in the strength of his arms, the solid expanse of his chest, and the familiar scent of his aftershave.  Gently, Jean-Luc set her on her feet at the side of the bed.  Vash bit her lower lip, all of her attention riveted on the man facing her, their interlude in the doorway not nearly enough to satisfy her.  Her fingertips glided up the gold piping on the front of his white jacket.  Reaching his shoulders, she drew lazy circles around his rank pips with her index finger.

 Picard stared down at Vash, completely transfixed.  With her head bent forward slightly, her dark hair fell softly to brush his shoulder as she sensuously trailed her hands over him.  The feel of her delicate fingers playing with the rank pips on his collar was driving him to distraction.

 Vash's focus was drawn to the fasteners of his jacket.  She let her fingers trail deliberately down the jacket, every clasp receiving her intimate attention as she unfastened each one in turn.  Opening the jacket as she went, her small hands slipped inside and traveled up to push it off  his broad shoulders peeling it away to drop on the floor.  Undoing the fasteners of his shirt, she pulled it down his arms to join his jacket.  She slid her hands down the tapering lines of his body to the waistband of his trousers.  Her fingers tugged at his T-shirt, pulling it free of his waistband.  Her hands skimmed over the sculpted muscles of his chest as she pushed the thin cloth out of her way until Jean-Luc finally stripped it off over his head.  There was a sense of timelessness in the air, the feeling that nothing else existed.  In no hurry to move things along, she stroked and caressed his skin, just marveling at the power contained in his lean, well-defined muscular body.  Pulling away from her touch, he moved to stand behind her, her breath catching in her throat at the feeling of his hand pushing her hair to one side exposing the delicate skin of her neck.  Her eyes fluttered closed, a shiver racing down her spine as his warm lips nibbled up and down her neck.

 "Je t' adore," he murmured, nuzzling his face into the soft skin of her neck just behind her ear. Unfastening the clasps of her evening gown's top, he pushed it down, allowing it to slide down her arms until it fell to the floor at her feet.  His lips brushed along the feminine curve of her shoulder, his arms encircling her, his palms easily spanning her tiny waist.  The musky smell of her perfume wafted through the air, the scent as much an aphrodisiac to him as the sight of her naked body.  His hands skimmed up the smooth plane of her stomach to the full curves of her breasts.  His voice was once again husky with desire as it reverberated against her skin, "I could spend the rest of eternity cherishing you and making love to you."

 Vash's head fell back against his broad shoulder, the sensitive peaks of her breasts tingling against the heat and coarse pressure of his hands cupping them.  A soft moan escaped her lips at the exquisite sensation of his thumbs drawing deliberate circles around her nipples, teasing the aching crests.  Almost imperceptibly, her body began moving sinuously in response to his caresses, the desire slowly rebuilding.  Her nipples stiffened painfully at the cold air against her breasts when his hands drifted down toward her hips and the waist of her skirt.  Her body was beginning to throb with need.   Even as he continued to devour her neck, he deftly unfastened the skirt of her gown pushing it past her hips to fall to the floor to pool at her feet.  Hungry for his mouth, she snaked her arms behind his head to pull his mouth to hers for a deep kiss.  Frustrated by the awkward position, she turned into the warmth of his body and thrust her tongue between his lips in triumph.  Cupping his face in her hands, her tongue plundered the depths of his mouth.

 Blood began pounding through Picard's ears as Vash's tongue continued to ravage his mouth.  Every muscle in his body tightened with the wave of arousal that washed over him.  He deepened the kiss, acquiescing to her demands.  His arms holding Vash tight against him, he placed a knee on the bed behind her and carefully carried them both onto the bed.  Breaking the kiss, he raised his head.  His gaze slowly pored over the full length of her nude body to treasure every exquisite detail.  Every inch of this beautiful, irrepressible, impish woman was his and brought him pleasure and enjoyment beyond measure.  Leaning in, he nuzzled the delicate skin of her neck hearing her inhale sharply as his mouth found the pulse point just below her ear.  Savoring her sweet scent, he whispered into the curve of her neck, "Tu es belle."

 "You are the most amazing man I've ever known, Jean-Luc," Vash moaned, her head rolled back, baring her throat to the onslaught of his hot, questing mouth.

 "I could spend eternity like this," Picard rasped.  His mouth made its way down the silken expanse of her skin toward the full curves of her breasts.  Savoring the sweet taste of her skin, he thoroughly explored every dip and curve with his lips and tongue.  He traced the swell of her breasts with his tongue before placing an open mouth kiss at the center of her cleavage.  His lips imprisoned the nipple of one of her breasts and he leisurely swirled his tongue over the taut peak.  Vash moaned his name as she held his head with both hands, pulling him even closer.  Delighting in her impassioned reactions, he nipped at the hardened crest slightly before suckling strongly.   He murmured against her damp skin, "Tu es parfait."

 Streaks of fire raced through Vash's body, the sharp ache growing as he suckled first one breast, then the other.  The heat from his tongue along with the sharp pull of his mouth and the occasional scrape of his teeth soon had her writhing with raw need.  His hands slid past her flat stomach, moving lower.  Finally reaching his destination, his fingers inflamed the moist heat already aching for him. Her entire body felt as if it was made of liquid flames as intense sensations washed over her with every stroke of his knowing fingers.  Breathlessly, she urged him, "Please, Jean-Luc."

 "You're so wet," he rasped in awe as the evidence of her arousal bathing his fingertips drove his desire up yet another notch.  Knowing her body's rhythm as if it was his own, he took her just to the edge and tethered her there.  As her hips moved restlessly against his hand, he rumbled with masculine satisfaction, "Mon Dieu, your body is so responsive.  You're so close again, petite amie."

 "Oh please, Jean-Luc .  .  . I need you, now .  .  . I need to feel you inside me, a part of me," Vash whimpered, half-pleading, half-demanding.  Jean-Luc's fingers stroked her with the skill of a maestro, taking her to near insanity.  She tried to hold herself back, wanting him to be with her.

 The way her body tightly clenched against his fingers with each caress told him she was on the threshold.  Her passionate responses inspired him to leisurely watch her lost in the pleasure she was experiencing at his hands.   He continued arousing her overheated body, content for the moment to stake his claim on her in this erotic manner.  Watching her struggle for control, he urged, "You know exactly what I want from you.  Just let it happen.  Surrender it to me, ma petite."

 With every stroke of his knowing fingers, Jean-Luc was taking her closer and closer to the peak of ecstasy.  It was the sound of his voice, rough with his own arousal, coaxing her, that finally sent her over.  Gripped in the throes of an orgasm quaking through her whole body, she cried out, "Oh God . . .Oh Jean-Luc!"

 "Magnifique," Picard marveled, as her entire body arched toward him and she found her release.  He was mesmerized by the sight of her laying naked before him and the look of total ecstasy she wore on the delicate features of her face.  The power he had over this woman both incited him and humbled him.  He could take her to the very edge of sexual sanity and she responded without reservation or fear.  Of course, that she held the same power over him went without saying.  He wouldn't have believed his need for her could be so strong again so quickly but the very provocative sight fueled his own ardent desires.  He quickly stripped off his boots and trousers before rejoining her on the bed.

 Vash collapsed back against the soft bedding, trying to catch her breath as spasms continued to race through her body.  Her eyes fluttered open to find him hovering over her.  She shifted her legs, wordlessly inviting him closer to what they both wanted.  Jean-Luc gently settled himself between her thighs stretching himself out full-length to cover her body with his own.  The hard length of his body weighed her down, pressing her body into the bedding.  She felt her breasts crushed against the muscular expanse of his chest, the coarse hair on his chest tormenting her already inflamed nipples.  The juncture of her thighs was still highly sensitized and throbbed erotically in response to the pressure of Jean-Luc's hard arousal pushing against her.  He teased her by easing himself just barely inside her, his body gently rocking back and forth.  In spite of her exhaustion, she craved the feeling of his body deep inside hers, filling her completely.  Vash's voice quavered slightly as she reached up with one finger to trace the outline of his lips.  "Please Jean-Luc, make love to me now."

 "Je t' aime," Picard whispered, his mouth capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss.  With a long, slow stroke, he buried his hard length into her heated depths.  Never breaking the kiss, he began moving in and out of her softness in a slow, steady pace.  He reveled in the waves of pleasure that washed over him, her body still trembling from her last orgasm and writhing in time with his.  His lips and tongue mimicked his body's deep caress of the beautiful woman beneath him.  He felt Vash tightening against him, drawing him in deeper and deeper.  He increased the tempo, feeling his needs increase as she matched him stroke for stroke.

 Vash yielded to the demands of his body, holding him tight against her with her legs around his waist and her hands braced on his shoulders.  His mouth was claiming her, his tongue coaxing from her another complete surrender.  She twisted her hips up to meet each powerful thrust, wave after wave of pleasure pulsing through her.  Her nipples grazed his chest, sending streaks of fire shooting through her as her body milked him with each thrust.  With every long stroke, she could feel his body bury itself deep inside hers.  The heat and fullness of each thrust sent torrents of intense sensations flooding over her.  Vash quietly moaned her passion into Jean-Luc's kiss.  She was riding wave after wave of pleasure, completely consumed with the burning pleasure of his body worshipping hers.  Unexpectedly, a third and final breathtaking release crashed over her.  Breaking the kiss, her head fell back and her entire body arched upward toward him, a wordless scream of ecstasy on her lips.

 The overwhelming pleasure of Vash's body shuddering around his was Picard's undoing, sending him into the abyss.  His own passion overtook him and he lost control.  With one deep, final thrust, he erupted in her with a shout of satisfaction.  Collapsing onto Vash, he felt her small hands traveling over the muscles of his back.  With a rueful chuckle, he rolled off to lay on his back next to her.  "Madame Picard is obviously in a much more agreeable mood this evening."

 "I am now, seeing as a certain situation has been effectively dealt with," Vash stretched indulgently, thoroughly spent.

 Something in her tone sent alarm bells off in Picard's head.  Propping himself up on one elbow, he eyed his wife expectantly, "What did you do, Vash?"

 "Nothing, nothing at all," she professed in her most innocent voice.  "Except entice my own husband into whisking me away from a reception so he could make love to me . . . twice."

 Now thinking more clearly, he replayed the evening's events in his head and lifted an accusing eyebrow.  "Directly in front of Kamala of Vault."

 "Damn right, and it was the metamorphic strumpet herself who ended up stepping aside as you strode right past her to come to me," Vash admitted smugly.

 "There should never have been any doubt in your mind about that outcome; nor has there ever been a reason for you to doubt my love for you.  You should trust me," he admonished pointedly, his voice a touch tighter than he had meant for it to be.

 "I trust you implicitly, Jean-Luc.  And I never for a moment doubted your love for me or that it would bring you to my side,"  Vash assured him earnestly.  A naughty glint lit her eyes as she raised her hand to admire her wedding ring.  "In fact, I was counting on it.  Between the uncontrolled lust and the tender love and affection, the Vault delegate has gotten irrefutable proof of exactly who is Madame Picard."

 "And here I thought your performance was solely for my benefit."

 "As always, my performance was for you and you alone.  It was your very impassioned response that was in the spotlight.  And as usual, your performance was par excellence, Mon Capitaine," she cooed, reaching out with her left hand to idly trace designs with a fingertip through the coarse hair on the muscular expanse of his chest.

 "You've already played that card tonight, twice.  It won't work," he advised, determinedly ignoring Vash's nude body seductively sprawled across the bed next to him.

 With a slight shrug of her shoulders, she pulled her hand away and studied her perfectly manicured nails.  "You see, that's the beauty of it.  It's already worked.  Splendidly I might add!  I'd wager that Kamala has tucked her genetically-engineered tail between her legs and is on her way back to Vault by now."

 For a moment he looked at her confused.  Then the missing piece fell into the puzzle and things made sense.  Reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose, he muttered, "Kamala is an empath."

 "Ohhh paydirt!  An ability I'm sure she was planning on using to seduce you and probably why she arranged for her suite of rooms to be next to yours . . . just on the other side of the balcony.  You remember the balcony . . . where you so amorously ravished me a short while ago," she taunted in a saucy tone.

 'Merde, what was I thinking?'  He winced inwardly realizing he had indeed made love to her in the open doorway of the balcony.  He hadn't been thinking.  He had been feeling so overcome with lust for Vash that nothing but sating his desire had mattered.  Which is exactly what his very cunning wife had intended.  "You seem rather assured that this little scheme successfully caused Kamala to depart, ma amie.  You have no way of knowing if she even sensed my emotions."

 "Au contraire.  I have a fairy Godmother who just happens to be a powerful . . . make that  . . . very powerful telepath," Vash countered matter-of-factly.

 "Lwaxana Troi, I should have known," he groaned.  Taking a deep breath, he began to firmly chide her.  "Vash . . ."

 "Don't you dare lecture me, Jean-Luc Picard."  Vash sat up and glared down at him, punctuating each word of the first sentence by poking a finger none-too-gently at her husband's chest.  "Yes, I behaved liked a world class bitch; moreover, I really don't care.  If Kamala of Vault disliked sensing the carnal passions you have for your wife, maybe she shouldn't have been empathically chasing after a married man.  I didn't start this little cat fight, but I damn well finished it.  The Enterprise may be your command but she is also our home, my home.  That woman came into my home, my lab and humiliated me in front of my staff.  Did you actually think I was just going to do nothing?  What if the situation had been reversed.  How would you react if some man waltzed onto your bridge and in front of your officers announced I belonged to him and you should just step aside?  I know exactly how you'd react.  You'd throw him into the brig.  That's assuming the poor bastard survived your wrath long enough to make it to the brig."

 "I would not resort to physical violence."

 "Really.  I have four words for you, Johnny.  Sir Guy of Gisborne," she huffed accusingly.  Seeing he was about to counter, she snapped her fingers at him and added, "Sovak."

 Closing his eyes for a long moment, he had to admit that she had a point.  Kamala had maligned Vash in what was essentially her own home.  His wife had not actually done anything in reprisal except give Kamala enough empathic rope to hang herself.  If their roles had been reversed in the scenario she described, the brig would be a feasible option.  Of course, officially the reason would be for disrupting the ship's operation by intruding on the bridge.  Opening his eyes, he risked glancing over at Vash.  She sat with her arms crossed over her chest her expression daring him to challenge her again on this issue.  Even after their shared passion earlier, his throat began to ache with longing at the sight of the fire that blazed in Vash's blue eyes.  Her full breasts were pushed up and out by the delicate arms crossed below them, an incredibly erotic pout.  She was so lovely and her challenges always affected him like a powerful aphrodisiac.  Holding his hands up, he capitulated.  "I concede your point.  There is no question that Kamala was way out of line.  Believe me, if I had had any indication that she was going to confront you that way, I would have taken measures to prevent it.  I have already admitted that I should have warned you about her.  I must also give credit where credit is due to you ladies - I'm sure you and Mrs.Troi weren't the only conspirators involved here.  I just don't really want to know about anyone else  - I'm very impressed with the beautiful simplicity, not to mention the flawless execution of this rather Machiavellian plot.  Truce?"

 "Truce."  As she nodded her agreement her expression softened.   With an impish sparkle in her eye, she teased.  "Beautiful simplicity and flawless execution of a rather Machiavellian plot.  I'll take that as a compliment."

 "As it was intended," he delivered the expected retort with a deep masculine chuckle. Gazing at her, his eyes drank in the features of her beautiful face with her blue eyes, delicate cheek bones and full, rose-petal lips.  Reaching out with one hand to gently stroke the smooth skin of her cheek with the back of his fingers, his voice became a soft, bedroom baritone.  "Je t' aime, Vash."

 " Je t' aime," Vash replied quietly, flushing at the intensity of his gaze and the warm timbre of his voice.   She tilted her head slightly to lean into the tender caress.

 Picard pulled her head down to settle her mouth over his in a deep, passionate kiss.  As her soft, lush lips parted pliantly to his, he could feel every muscle in his body tighten in fervent response. He slipped his tongue past her lips to gently stroke and caress the warm, moist cavern of her mouth.  His hand moved around to the back of her head, entangling itself in her silky hair.

 As her lips and tongue responded ardently to his, Vash's hands came up to clutch his broad shoulders for balance.  The soft bedding gave way beneath her as she laid back, Jean-Luc moving over her to  cover her body with his own.  She could feel every inch of Jean-Luc's hard, muscular form against her as he pressed her into the mattress.  She moaned into his kiss, her body trembling from the warmth of his large hands as they traveled down her neck and past her shoulders to skim down the sides of her body.  Shivers of desire spread throughout her body causing the crests of her breasts to harden, the stiff peaks pressing up against the muscular wall of his chest.  When he finally broke the kiss both of them were gasping for air.  As his hard length pulsed against her inner thigh, her breathless whisper was tinged with a hint of amusement.  "I thought you said this wouldn't work again tonight."

 "I lied," he quipped, his eyes traveling down the length of their bodies before returning  to her face.  Giving her his characteristic barely-there smile, he asked,  "So was it good to get a little of your own back."

 "Oh baby, not only was it good for me, but it was good for every empath and telepath on the planet," Vash purred seductively arching herself against him.  Before he could respond, she captured his lips with hers in another searing kiss.

......FINIS........