Sexy Spock
By
Spock sighed as
he prepared to go onstage. Leaning towards the small, dingy mirror, he applied
more eyeliner.
Resorting this barbaric activity in order to
secure funds is fundamentally illogical.
“Hurry it up
there,” Mister Xiyanir demanded.
“I shall be ready
momentarily,” Spock replied, ignoring the way the fat balding man eyed him.
Burying his disgust at his surroundings, Spock reminded himself why he was
doing this.
They’d been on
this planet for hardly fifteen minutes before they were all kidnapped from the
planetary leader’s home. McCoy had been injured—minor abrasions to his legs and
torso—and Kirk had been knocked unconscious. Spock’s head had been covered with
a dark hood and he had been taken to this place. He had essentially been sold
to Mister Xiyanir, with the promise that he could work off his freedom, and the
freedom of his shipmates. He had expected a lowly maintenance job, perhaps something
in the line of security. What he had not expected what Xiyanir’s demand that
he…remove his clothing slowly for an audience.
Xiyanir shoved
him towards the stage. “Get going, now!” he cried. “Geeze, you’ve been primping
in front of that mirror for an hour!”
Spock drew
himself up regally, despite the ridiculous sparkling emerald-sequined suit he
wore. “Vulcans do not primp, Mr. Xiyanir,” he informed him.
“Ya, whatever,
move it!”
Tugging at the
uncomfortable suit, Spock faced the stage. He saw the stage lights go dark.
“And now, for the
viewing pleasure of our ladies,” a deep voice said loudly. “We bring you a
mysterious and exotic alien to feast your eyes on…Sexy Spock!”
“Sexy Spock?”
Spock repeated, raising one elegant eyebrow.
“You’re on!”
Xiyanir stated, forcing him to start walking.
Strange gonging
music began to play, the bass in it so deep, it rattled his breastbone as Spock
strode to center stage. Resigning himself to an unusual performance, he stuck a
pose: one hand, palm out, in front of his eyes; the other hand was flung back
behind himself, making him look as if he was turning away from the audience.
The stage-lights came up, and he blinked. An offstage hiss from Xiyanir made
him stir.
Gyrating his hips
to the pounding music, Spock of Vulcan began to dance. Calling upon martial
arts and observed dance moves over the years, he prowled the stage. He moved
constantly, making the sequins sparkle and shine. Another hiss made him reach
for his suit’s jacket. He removed it slowly, hips moving in a circle as he
twirled and tossed the jacket to the far side of the stage. A female screamed
her appreciation. Accepting that as encouragement, he promptly began to
unbutton his bright white shirt.
Glancing down, he saw a woman frantically
waving a piece of paper currency. Recalling what Xiyanir had rattled off to
him, he flung himself onto his knees, placing his groin right in front of the
woman. He moved slowly, leaning back until his shoulder blades touched the
floor, then sat up, holding his waistband out. She slid the money into the
band, screeching, and he jumped to his feet.
Spock’s shirt was hanging open,
completely unbuttoned. He decided to keep it on for now, and reached for the
top of the pants. Careful to keep the money within the waistband’s grip, he
yanked them off. It took all of his Vulcan control to bury the mortification he
felt, now wearing an emerald g-string. The shirt felt like some kind of
coverage, he noted with some relief. Holding the pants, he reached around,
taking the empty legs in each hand. Turning so that his posterior faced the
cries of delight, he rubbed the material over his naked buttocks and
“shimmied”.
More eager cries met his ears as he
tossed the pants away and turned to greet the women crowding the stage. He
knelt, hips in constant motion, and accepted bill after bill from all the
women. One woman used her teeth to place the currency, much to his surprise. He
shrugged it off, and concentrated on collecting as much money as possible.
Noting that one woman held a large sum of bills in her fist, he crawled towards
her slowly. She grinned as he thrust himself at her, then placed a handful of
bills in his waistband.
He stayed within her reach as he moved to
the music, embarrassed to note that he was now sweating. Eventually, he
realized there was more money than room within his waistband. Unsure of what to
do, he collected the bills with a swipe of both hands and stuffed it into the
pockets on the shirt. He then removed the shirt, bundled it so that the money
was secure, and tossed it behind himself.
Now wearing only the g-string, Spock
continued to dance and display his body more than he would ever willingly share
with strangers. As he moved, he began to notice a change in the atmosphere of
the strip club. Behind the female giggles and cries of appreciation, he could
now hear male voices. Amused male voices. He raised an eyebrow, unaware that
there were male patrons. He crouched to accept more bills from a dark woman.
Her deep eyes smiled up at him, and he froze.
“Lieutenant Uhura?” he said, genuinely
surprised.
She disappeared before he could further
inquire. He rose to his feet, trying to find her in the crowd, but found that
the stage lights were too bright. Drawing himself back to his duty at hand,
Spock moved to a new section of the stage and knelt. He began to lean back, but
froze when he saw the blonde woman before him. She playfully held out a bill.
“Nurse…Chapel?” he said.
She didn’t reply, and instead tossed the
bill onto the stage and backed away, grinning. Suddenly more than suspicious,
Spock stood and peered into the club. Adjusting his eyesight to compensate for
the harsh stage lights, he crossed his arms.
Xiyanir appeared in front of him. “What
are you doing?!” he demanded. “Do you want to free your friends or not?”
“I see no reason to continue in this
charade, Mr. Xiyanir,” Spock stated. “Since my captain, and Doctor McCoy appear
to be sitting approximately ten feet away from the stage, unharmed, and
unrestrained.”
Xiyanir just stared at him, then slowly
grinned. “Can’t get anything past you, can we, Mr. Spock?”
Spock raised an eyebrow as Xiyanir’s
accent changed to a familiar brogue. He watched silently as the alien removed
his face, revealing…
“Mr. Scott,” Spock greeted. As the stage
lights faded to a more bearable level, he began to realize that the entire club
was full of
“Ah, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said. “I believe
the jig is up…Everybody!!”
“APRIL
FOOLS, MISTER SPOCK!!!!”
everyone cried.
Spock merely raised an eyebrow, and
clasped his hands behind his back.
“Captain, may I put my clothing back on?”
he asked dryly.
Kirk was laughing too hard to reply.
The End
