Christine Chapel sat for a long time on her unmade bed, staring at the vial in her hand. She replayed the events of the previous evening in her mind, trying to figure out just exactly when she had gone insane. She vaguely remembered spending the better part of the night giggling with Uhura over Arcturian fizzes and bawdy stories. She wasn't sure how many fizzes she'd had. It was all just a lovely, hazy, troffe-laced blur. Her behavior in the transporter room wasn't as mercifully hazy. She distinctly recalled being way too familiar with a certain Vulcan first officer...and blue flowers?

A quick glance towards the pile of clothes at the foot of her bed made her groan. Scattered among the mound of red silk, black hose and underwear were six tacky blue artificial flowers--souvenirs of shore leave. There was enough troffe in half a dozen Arcturian fizzes to stun a rhinoceros for a week.

No. Even drunk out of her mind, Chapel was certain she'd still have better taste than Harry Mudd. Despite his admission to the contrary, she still didn't trust the man alone in her cabin. Even drunk...

Of course. That was it. That had to be it. Every instinct, every lesson she'd ever learned assured her that she was experiencing ethanol-induced hallucinations. That was the only way to explain what she'd seen.

For she had seen Mudd appear, then disappear right before her eyes. He'd been there...but she couldn't see him. She shuddered at the thought of Harry Mudd following her back from the starbase, watching her undress... She quickly shook the image from her mind; it was too repulsive.

The weight of the vial in her hands brought her back to the possibility of a working invisibility potion. It was absurd, of course; but then, so were the love crystals. Despite her own humiliating part of that affair, Chapel had to admit they had worked. Spock had risked his life for her. The kiss he'd given her down on the planet's surface had been anything but indifferent. He'd held her motionless for several endless moments, his firm, muscular body pressed against her, his strong hands...

"Arcturian fizzes," she reminded herself. "You will never drink another troffe fizz again as long as you live, Christine Chapel." She closed her fist around the vial firmly. The smart thing to do was bring this voodoo concoction down to the lab for analysis. That's exactly what she had to do...

"Right. And just where are you going to say you got this? How are you going to explain it?" She could lie, of course; but Chapel knew she could never fake her way through that one. The lab was definitely out.

The vial sparkled in her hand. "Come on, Chris. You're a smart woman. A grownup." She sighed loudly for her lost self-respect as curiosity took over and she broke the seal.

She was never quite certain how much time passed between the moment she opened the vial and the moment she opened her eyes. As far as Chapel knew, it could as easily have been ten years as ten seconds.

The honey-sweet amber liquid had simply touched her hand, and a wave of vertigo hit. Good thing you were sitting down, Chapel managed to think. It was her first coherent thought since...

What the hell... She clenched her eyes tightly and rested her head in her hands. Christine Chapel, of all the stupid... She opened her eyes, finally able to concentrate on the floor and bed below her. She'd opened the vial; of that much she was certain. Then...

Chapel paused, trying to straighten out her jumbled thoughts. It was slowly dawning on her that something was wrong. Something was absolutely wrong here; if only she could put her finger on it. Think...you're harboring a known criminal in your cabin, you can't see your hands or legs, Harry Mudd may or may not have spent the night with you, you're experiencing intense vertigo, you're...

Her mind finally caught up with itself. Chapel blinked her eyes fiercely and looked down again at her legs. When all she saw was the bedspread, she jumped a full half-meter. "DAMN!" Her heart pounding madly, she tried to steady herself, covering her eyes with both hands. The fact that she couldn't see her hands either only made things worse. "Damn, damn, damn, damn..."

She stumbled to the mirror, completely disoriented. Afraid to open her eyes, she finally forced herself to look into the glass. Her stomach churned when she looked...and no one looked back! "Oh, god! I'm invisible," she moaned. "I could get fired for this!"

"OK," she said, staggering back to the bed. "Calm down. So you've taken a really bad drug," she told herself in a parody of nurses' professionalism. "It's made you believe you're invisible. That's fine. Check the pulse." With a shaking hand, she felt for the pulse in her throat. "Fast, but that's to be expected." She struggled to slow her breath. "You have to get help. Sickbay. Yeah, Sickbay." She began to giggle, then shook her head. "Stop that. Go to Sickbay. McCoy will help you."

She paused for a second. "Oh, man," she moaned to herself. "How am I going to explain this to people?" She breathed deeply. "Just go to Sickbay. Just keep your fool mouth shut, and maybe no one will notice that you've gone completely insane."

Taking her own advice, she stood up shakily and headed for the door. As she glanced back into the mirror, another thought occurred to her. What if she really was invisible? The sight of her fuzzy pink robe floating, sans body, in the mirror was enough to convince her. If she was invisible, it would definitely not do to have a robe walking the halls of the ship without a body.

If, on the other hand, she wasn't invisible, merely insane, then walking the ship's corridors naked would be no worse than anything else she might do under the circumstances. Chapel slipped the robe to the floor and headed for the door again. It was more difficult than she'd expected. Without a body for reference, her depth perception was shot to hell. She winced as she walked into the wall, then tried again, exiting into the corridor outside her cabin.

A couple of ensigns, just back from shore leave, passed her in the hall. Gazing deeply into each other's eyes with the intensity of love-starved teenagers, they completely ignored the strung-out nurse.

Don't mind me, she thought. I just think I'm invisible. I'll be all right. She watched as the couple strolled off, oblivious to anything but each other. I'm going to Sickbay. Dr. McCoy's going to make me better.

With nothing but the thought of finding McCoy to guide her, Chapel wandered in a daze toward the nearest turbolift. She didn't see Yeoman Cynthia Chamberlain until she was almost on top of her. Chapel pulled away quickly, then stared as the well-built young woman sauntered by without even acknowledging her.

Same to you, Bitch, Chapel thought as she fought to maintain her balance. She followed the statuesque redhead to the turbolift, wondering when Chamberlain was going to recognize the fact that Head Nurse Christine Chapel was parading the corridors in her birthday suit. As Chamberlain entered the lift, the nurse followed, puzzled. Sure, the captain's yeoman was a snob, but not even she could share a turbolift with a nude, grown woman on the verge of hysterical collapse and not notice.

The yeoman leaned against the wall and said in a soft voice, "Captain's quarters." Chapel lifted her head in shock as the girl began singing to herself. Chapel learned a little known bit of Enterprise trivia as Yeoman Chamberlain burst into a lively, though completely tuneless, rendition of "You Light Up My Life." The girl could not sing her way out of a paper bag.

A thought was slowly developing in the nurse's muddled mind. There was no way in Hell or Romulus that Cynthia Chamberlain would ever sing in her presence. I'm invisible. The realization came as a mixture of complete surprise and, yes, even amusement. Chapel waved her hand cautiously in front of Chamberlain's face. Nothing, not even a blink. I'm fucking invisible!

Chapel had to choke back the urge to laugh as the yeoman, oblivious to her presence, leaned over to adjust her low-cut uniform, giving her cleavage the best view possible.

Chamberlain straightened just as the lift opened, clutched the report tightly against her bosom, and swayed towards the captain's quarters. Chapel slipped out of the lift on a whim, just before the doors closed, and followed the young woman. This is incredible, she thought to herself, carefully remembering not to talk out loud. They can't see me.

Captain Kirk answered the summons on the second call. Still off-duty, the handsome young captain was dressed in a thick brown robe. He gave Chamberlain a "little-boy-with-his-hands-in-the-cookie-jar" grin as she presented the clipboard to him.

"I hope I'm not...interrupting, sir," she said smoothly, her vermilion lips twitching upwards in a shadow of a smile.

Kirk's lips mirrored hers. "Of course not, Yeoman. I'm just relaxing...with a good book."

Yeah, and I'm Surak's love child, Chapel thought, leaning against the wall next to the cabin door. The big question here is, will they or won't they?

"I have the figures for the quarterly budget report, Miss Chamberlain. If you'll wait one moment, I'll get them for you. Please come in," he added, motioning for her to enter.

They will! Chapel, unable to resist, followed the yeoman in. I knew it! She has `romance du jour' written all over her fake little body.

Chapel forgot the couple momentarily as she surveyed her surroundings. She'd never been in the captain's quarters before, and frankly, this was a little disappointing. The neat, almost spartan cabin was tastefully decorated with a few personal belongings. The bed was rumpled, an old-fashioned bound novel book lay spread-eagled next to the pillow. There was a half-full glass of wine on the nightstand. Hardly the pleasure dome at Xanadu she'd expected.

The nurse was snooping at the far end of the cabin when the pneumatic swish of the cabin door made her whirl. Her jaw dropped as the door closed behind Yeoman Chamberlain, successfully trapping Chapel in Kirk's quarters. Uh-oh.

Chapel eyed the captain carefully, half expecting him to turn on her, to tell her the jig is up, to force her to pay for her intrusion in the only way a naked woman could with the infamous Tomcat Kirk.

The captain walked back to his bed, plopped down on top of the covers and took a shallow sip of his drink before retrieving his book.

Chapel stared disbelievingly at the man. Not that she'd particularly wanted to defend her honor, mind you. But, James T. Kirk, studmeister of the galaxy, spending his shore leave reading, alone, in his cabin! Captain, I'm crushed.

It was several moments before the full implication of her situation hit Chapel. As Kirk continued to read, she realized that there was no way she could leave the cabin without attracting his attention. She turned toward the door, then back to the captain. Kirk stirred suddenly, and Chapel's eyes snapped to him. When he only took another sip of his drink, she slumped dejectedly against the desk.

It's not fair, she grumbled inwardly. How many people get to cruise the ship with their own personal cloaking device? And here I am, stuck in this boring cabin with this boring man who's reading some stupid boring book instead of getting laid like everybody else in their right minds! She glared at Kirk. Do something, will you?

As if he had heard her thoughts, Jim Kirk stretched back lazily on the bed, yawning.

That's not exactly what I had in mind, she added, moving to his side. What's so exciting about that book, anyway, that it's got the infamous Tomcat Kirk wasting a Saturday night in his cabin? She leaned over to read the title -- Hot Lead. Sounds thrilling, she thought blandly, starting to read over his shoulders.

Chapel stared at the page, then at the captain. I can't believe you read this crap. Leaning back against the headboard, she continued to read over his shoulder.

Chapel nearly fell onto the bed. It's a fuck story! She held her breath, trying not to laugh. By the time she could control herself enough to return to the story, Kirk had already turned the page.

Dakota worked her hard. It was like breaking a wild filly to the bit. His balls slapped against her skin, which gleamed white against the blood red silk skirt he'd hastily pushed up around her waist. The tight sheathe of her ass was like a vise, trapping his blood-gorged cock, urging him on. The blonde cried out as he increased his thrusts, harder, meaner. She clawed the moldy brick wall until her nails broke.

A movement from Kirk shifted Chapel's attention away from the book. To her shock, she saw the captain remove an enormous erection from his robe and begin slowly stroking it as he continued to read. Her mouth went dry as she stared at his hand, moving casually up and down the thick shaft, pulling at the silky flesh with gentle dexterity.

This isn't happening, she assured herself. You are not standing in your captain's cabin, invisible and naked, watching him...oh, dear. Already her nipples were hardening. This is not good. Chapel had never felt the attraction to Kirk which seemed a requisite for female crew members; but as he continued to masturbate, she felt her own hands wondering down the length of her torso. She'd completely forgotten her own nudity, a fact which now returning full force into her conscious mind.

The pornography forgotten, Chapel remained glued to the sight of Kirk's fist, bobbing up and down, unsuspecting, before her eyes. Her long fingers probed the soft curls between her legs, easily finding her moist opening. She rubbed softly first, matching her strokes to Kirk's, not wanting to rush the orgasm which was approaching too quickly. As the captain quickened his pace, she followed suit, dipping two fingers rhythmically in and out, trying desperately to control her breathing. She was just on the edge of climax, just a few seconds more when...

The cabin door buzzed.

Chapel and Kirk jumped simultaneously, both unsuccessfully trying to cover the evidence of their activities. Kirk stumbled out of the bed, narrowly missing the invisible nurse, who leaned flat against the wall, holding her breath. Kirk stashed the book under the pillow. "Come," he said.

Chapel winced. Rather an unfortunate word choice, wouldn't you say, Captain?

Doctor Leonard McCoy strolled in, his face flushed with the glow of excessive...shore leave. "Ya left Gringo's too early, Jim. The party was just beginning when you bailed out."

The captain smiled tightly. "Too many kids, Bones." He yawned. "I'm getting a little too old for the nightclub scene."

Chapel's eyes travelled down the front of Kirk's robe, wondering if and when the intoxicated McCoy would figure out what he'd walked in on. For the first time, she was grateful for the ridiculous situation Harry Mudd had thrown her into--at least if she looked as uncomfortable as Kirk did, no one could notice.

McCoy scowled, shaking his head. "Now you don't mean to tell me that the great Jim Kirk is losing his tail-feathers, do you? Think of all those young lovelies you've disappointed."

"Maybe I just wanted a day off from being a dashing romantic hero," Kirk said, his smile tight.

"So what are you doin' on your day off?" McCoy stuffed his hands in the pockets of his off-duty trousers, looking a little too comfortable as he started to sit down.

"Well, I was just about to take a shower when you barged in." Kirk pulled on his best "annoyed-but-too-polite-to-show-it" grin and pointed towards the door. "Out, Bones."

The doctor scowled as he turned on his heels. "You're getting old, Jim. Used to be you could keep up with kids half your age and leave them sitting in the dust. Now all you ever want to do is stay in your cabin and read."

Chapel stifled a giggle as she followed McCoy out. Yeah, but look at what he's reading! Part of her desperately wanted to stay in and watch Kirk finish his...book, but the practical side of her knew this was probably her last chance to make a clean getaway. She looked wistfully at Kirk as the doors slid closed behind her. Enjoy the book, Captain.