Spock would never do anything as irresponsible as let his thoughts drift during his shift of duty. He monitored his station with his usual calm efficiency. However it was quiet today, and it wasn't as easy as usual to concentrate. He ran a battery of diagnostic tests on his system, with the mildly disturbing feeling that it was make work. When his break came, he was relieved.

Instead of repairing to the commissary or going back to his quarters, he accessed the computer through his personal, portable unit, and began to study his latest interest.

James T. Kirk noticed. Jim was very observant, at least when it came to his first officer. After years of friendship, they had only recently taken the next step, the one that didn't always happen. They had become lovers.

The situation surprised Spock a good deal. While Spock had long acknowledged that he was attracted to his own sex it hadn't occured to him that the same might be true of the captain. After all, James T. Kirk had a reputation as... It was rather hard to define without resorting to the vernacular. McCoy had used the term randy bastard. Jim himself had jokingly used the word slut.

In any case, it was a welcome discovery. Spock had felt a physical attraction to the captain from the first day they served together. He had resigned himself to the thought that nothing would ever come of it, though. Not only did Jim appear to be rampantly heterosexual, but he was also Spock's supperior officer. Combined with Spock's own reticence, it looked hopeless.

He hadn't counted on the swashbuckling side of Kirk. Kirk had asked him to help him try out a new program on the holodeck. Once there, he had realized that it was a representation of his home world, Vulcan, during it's more primetive era, when his people were ruled by their emotions.

Jim had said he hoped that, in this environment, Spock would feel more comfortable with his long repressed emotions. Then he had kissed him. With such a clear acceptance,there was much less trouble than he had anticipated in responding. In short, the simulation of the ancient form of his world had seen a very vigorous joining. It was most gratifying that the joining had been not merely physical. Since then their relationship had progressed steadily, if discreetly.

McCoy knew, of course. They were careful to consult on various physical aspects of the relationship. Spock had been almost reluctant to inform the irrascible doctor. He hadn't known quite what to expect, aside from a barage of teasing. McCoy's response to the news had been a blink, a calm nod, and, "About time." Uhura knew--she'd always seemed particularly attuned to Spock. Spock himself had broken the news to Nurse Chapel. Christine took it the hardest. She was seeking counceling, but seemed to be doing well. She didn't let it interfer with her duties, nor damage her respect for the captain.

Everyone else, well...There were some who had an idea, but it wasn't common ship's gossip. That in itself was a mark of the high respect held for the two officers.

It didn't really surprise Spock that Kirk proved to be a romantic lover. The problem was, Kirk complained, that it was so damn hard to romance a Vulcan, particularly a male Vulcan. What did one give?

Candy was out. Flowers? Apreciated in an aesthetic way, but not really the thing. Too much rare wine and you were courting the conclusion that you were trying to get your lover drunk in order to have your way with them. Jewelry was a little too obvious. And stuffed animals....? It wasn't easy, but Kirk kept trying. Spock was often amused by his efforts, but always touched.

Now Jim left the captain's chair for a tour around the bridge and stopped behind his first officer. He rested one hand on Spock's shoulder and leaned down to peer at the moniter of the handheld computer link.

There was the muted blare of music, the sort that was known in the twentieth and tweny-first centuries as rock. Someone was singing something about being addicted to love--a concept that had carried over well through the centuries, Kirk thought with a smile, glancing at Spock's rapt, but placid profile.

On the tiny screen, there was what looked like a stage with a metal pole in the center. As the men watched, a young, attractive human female wearing not much more than enough fabric to make a decent dinner napkin removed approximately half of her already scanty outfit. She did it in a provocative manner, matching the rhythm of the music in the background. Then she proceeded to do acrobatics around the pole.

Jim murmured, "Strippers, Spock?"

His friend did not take his gaze off the young woman, who had somehow managed to wind herself around the pole upside down. Her breasts were defying gravity better than anything in that century had a right to. "Exotic dancers, Jim. It's quite fascinating. Many of the cultures we have encountered have their own versions. I am at present studying the late twentieth century Earth versions."

"Hmmm, yes." Jim watched as a male patron approached the stage and inserted some paper into the side of the miniscule garment that barely sheilded the woman's pubic area. She hopped down off the stage and accompanied him to a table. He assisted her in climbing up on the small table, then sat down and gazed up happily as she did some gyrations that were significantly less vigorous than those she'd done on stage.

"What is she doing?"

Jim grinned. "That's called a table dance. They also did something called a lap dance."

Spock said, "Computer, locate material on this subject pertaining to lap dances."

There was a brief whirr, and the computer replied, "There are no visuals in this data base for lap dances. Access Star Fleet main database?"

Spock sighed. It wouldn't be right to access the main database while on break simply to satisfy his curiosity. Some other time. "No."

Jim said, conversationally. "You know, you're not getting the full story here, Spock."

"How so?"

"There were many different varieties of exotic dancing, and exotic dancers back then. I'll confess that, in my youth, I found the subject rather interesting."

"Indeed? Perhaps we could discuss it later."

The captain grinned. "I'm counting on it." Humming a rather peculiar tune that Spock didn't recognize, he went back to his chair. But he had a very oh, I'm clever smile on his face that made his lover suspicious.

Jim went off duty approximately a half hour before Spock. Spock decided to return to his quarters and have a quick try at finding some more visual material on his new interest before going in search of Jim.

When he entered his quarters, the doors hissing shut behind him automatically, the lights did now go on as they normally did. In fact, there wasn't even the usual dim light he left on during his abscence. "Computer, lights on."

"Voice command on lighting is restricted."

Spock blinked. He wasn't often surprised, but this did it. He stood near the door. He was wary of venturing into the room in such pitch blackness, even with his knowledge of it's layout.

"Computer, over ride restriction."

"Negative. Restriction can only be disabled by Captain James T. Kirk."

Kirk? Why would Jim restrict his access to his quarter's environmental control?

From the dark on the other side of the room, he heard Jim speak. "This is only temporary, Spock. I'll return the control to you in an hour or two. Computer, ten percent strength light focused on First Officer Spock."

A dim glow pinpointed Spock, illuminating his immediate area. "Have a seat, Spock," Jim invited. A comfortably cushioned chair, much less spartan than the furniture he usually favored, was nearby, sitting beside a small, but sturdy table. Spock sat , placing his computer unit on the table beside him.

"Captain, is this some form of joke?"

"It's Jim when we're alone, Spock, remember? And this isn't a joke, exactly. I'm going to help you out with your new interest. The graphics library in our data base is a little limited--I checked myself. So I've decided to present you with a visual aid of my own making. Let me tell you, I had to replicate like a madman to set this up on such short notice, so I hope you appreciate it. Computer, do you have your lighting instructions?"

"One hundered percent power small spot to follow the movements of Captain Kirk until order is recinded. To begin at audio cue."

"Very good. You remember, Spock, that I told you that you were only getting about half the story of stripping?"

"I recall words to that effect."

"What you don't seem to have run across in your studies so far, Spock, is the fact that men also stripped. There was even a world famous troupe called the Chippendales. Oh, and by the way, the music? It's very famous among my own people. It's called 'The Stripper'. Computer, begin."

There was a long drum roll, almost a buzzing, and then a long, brazzy note. Then the music started in earnest. It seemed to be mainly horns of all persuasions, though Spock thought he detected a few wind instruments. Certainly no strings. It was a slow, simply melody, but there was something provocative about it.

Then the spotlight snapped on the other side of the room, and he was nearly blinded. It wasn't so much the light itself as it was the reflection, because Jim was dressed in solid, snowy white, head to toe. It took Spock a moment to recognize the costume as a Navy dress whites officer's uniform from the late twentieth century, complete with gloves and hat.

He was at salute, face grave. Then that devilish smile curved his lips, and he took off the hat and tossed it. Spock caught it automatically, laying it aside.

Jim began to move to the music, but very subtly. At first it was just a barely visible shift of his hips as he peeled off the gloves in time to the music. They flew through the air in turn, to be neatly place in the hat.

Spock was glad that Jim just slid the shoes to the side when he took them off, as it might have been a bit difficult to dodge them had he chosen to kick them off. He was wondering how Jim would deal with the socks. Jim dealt with them by sinking gracefully to the floor, never losing the rhythm of the music, extending each leg in turn, and peeling away the footwear. Those got shot at Spock rather along the lines of an elastic band.

Jim flowed to his feet, and his hands went to the top button of the uniform. Spock suddenly found that his mouth had gone dry, a most unusual physical reaction. But then, it was the least obvious physical reaction he was having.

Jim undid each button slowly, timing his movements to a bass drum beat. Then, when they were all undone, he teasingly held the edges of the jacket together, and turned his back. Spock would have felt frustrated, to the extent that Vulcans do feel frustrated, except that Jim slowly lowered the jacket off his shoulders, down his arms, and let it drop to the floor.

There was some sort of glitter spread lightly over his back and shoulders that seemed to set off gold sparks across his smooth skin. He turned, and his chest was dusted with the same gleaming motes.

As the horns blared he swayed, and moved his hands across his own flesh, stroking his chest and sides in time to the music. Spock, already hot blooded by human standards, was getting hotter by the second.

Jim finally spoke. "And this next little trick is courtesy of a wonderful little invention called velcro." He grabbed the fabric on either side that covered his inner thighs, and jerked hard.

There was a ripping sound. The pants split down the outside seams from hips to ankles, coming away in his fists. He was left standing in a shimmery peice of fabric even smaller than the one that had been worn by the woman in the computer example.

The dismantled uniform pants were swung around his head several times, and ended up draping Spock's face. Spock couldn't help a long, deep sniff before he removed them.

Jim danced to the music, rotating his hips in what Spock later learned were called grinds, and then jerking them in the appropriately named bumps.

Jim was having the time of his life. He'd always been a bit of a ham, and that was a short step from exhibitionist. And it pleased him to be doing something for his lover that not only might be stimulating, but related to something he'd expressed interest in.

He was a little disappointed when he saw that Spock had picked up his computer unit again, and was tapping information in diligently. He sighed inwardly, determined not to let Spock know that his feelings were hurt, and kept on dancing. "Looking for comparative references?"

"No, Jim. I am transfering credits from my account to your own."

James hesitated for only a moment, not really losing the beat. "Why would you do that?"

Spock laid aside the moniter. "Because I wish to purchase a lap dance." As Jim laughed and came toward him, he said, "My only regret is that I do not have a physical monitary unit to stuff in your G string."