Musings in the Dark: October 2011


What’s It Worth?

Recently, I had a conversation with my best friend.  We were talking about the process of dating; the ebb and flow of possible significant others in and out of one’s life.  She’s never been single for any significant amount of time; as soon as one man left her life, another one came in.  I used to admire her ability to stay boo’ed up; she didn’t let heartache and heartbreak stop her from moving on to the next dude.

With some age and wisdom behind her, she’s realized that she made an error in not having time by herself.  In going from man to man, with very little recovery time in between, it’s caused her a great deal of stress within herself.  She maintains a certain level of frustration and there are times when she voices her regret at getting married and having a family as soon as she did.  She wishes she had taken the time to know herself and figure out who she is as an individual, and enjoyed time as a single woman.  She encourages me to stay single for as long as possible and enjoy the freedom such a lifestyle allows.   No problem there; I'm having a ball.

But she has also encouraged me to step back into dating’s raging river.  I’m a bit hesitant because I’m so guarded, but I understand her perspective as my bff.  I was never one to stay manned up; significant time always passed between my relationships for any number of reasons.  It has been a very long time since my last one (and this is by choice).  Our conversation steered towards me making sincere efforts to “put myself back out there,” as it were.  It got me to thinking about the process in and of itself.  She told me that even though she felt like her heart was broken each time she broke up with a boyfriend, she eventually healed enough to move on to the next guy, and the next, and the next; until she met her husband.

I understand that.  It’s no different than moving in and out of jobs until you find the best fit.  It’s no different than trying to get published, getting rejected, and determined to try again and again until you are successful.  Anything worth having requires a significant amount of work and patience.  I’m long on one, but short on the other.  I kept at my writing until I found something that works, and I’m going to get better at that until I am as successful as I envisioned myself being.

The difference between this and serial relationships is that there is no filter for one’s emotions.  People who care for and love one another are destined to hurt each other.  Relationships begin and end, hearts break and heal, tears shed and dry, and life moves on.  I get it.  However, I have no interest in randomly dating multiple guys.  As a single woman, I understand that it is a perk; but it is not a perk I’m interested in having.  I’d much rather have a few quality experiences than a bunch of meaningless ones.  I’m not interested in trying men on like they’re a pair of shoes; especially when it comes to intimacy.  My heart and my time are valuable, and I’m not about to waste either on a few months with an unworthy guy.  Hell, it shouldn't take months for a woman to find out if the guy she's messing around with is unworthy.  She should know that within the first few weeks, but I digress.

Serial relationships are necessary because it is through experience that you find out what you want in a guy, what you don’t want, what you can put up with, and what you absolutely cannot handle.  I believe a woman can sort through this miasma with a small number of significance rather than a horde of randomness.  But everyone isn’t like me, and what works for some women doesn’t work for all women.  Part of the problem is a woman knowing who she is and what she wants prior to making a connection with another.  If that part of the equation is properly set up, then it is easy to balance and complete.

I take my bff’s words under advisement.  I understand what she means and that she wants me to be happy and healthy.  But it is difficult for a guy to move my thermostat even slightly; something substantial has to occur for me to take note, and even more for me to respond to it.  It just ain’t gonna happen in back-to-back relationships.  I’m tedious that way, but at least I know it.  When it’s right, it’ll be right.  No man is better than the wrong man, and certainly no man is better than multiple wrong ones.


It's Finally Ready!!!

For those of you who are fans of and followers of my blog and my work, I am happy to report that my first novel, Corruption, is ready for purchase.  Corruption is the story of Mahogany Carroll, an unrepentant cougar, and Jordan Yoshito, her precocious cub.  Jordan struggles with finding his way in the world, and Mahogany struggles with needing more than just great sex.  Mahogany likes her men young and Jordan prefers his women experienced, and so they enter into a relationship that was intended to be no more than temporary.  But people have a way of leaving their mark on one another long after encounters have ceased, and this holds true for Jordan and Mahogany.

I recently did an interview with Ankhesen_Mié about Corruption, which represents my first foray into Blasian fiction.  There are teasers and other relevant information about the book located here in the Dark.

Corruption can be purchased directly from the Middle Child Press eBookstore.  I appreciate your support and feel free to leave a review on the MCP blog.  I hope you enjoy Corruption.

This book has a Mature rating due to explicit sex, language & adult situations.  For 18+ audiences only.

Boss Chicks: Kasidy Yates

Kasidy Yates is the captain of the freighter Xhosa.  She is played by Penny Johnson (a woman whose lips I’d murder to have), and she is a strong, practical woman who plays Captain Benjamin Sisko’s love interest.  Jake Sisko, Benjamin’s colorful son, plays matchmaker and hooked them up. At first it seems like there is nothing between the two, until Kasidy expresses a love for baseball, which is Captain Sisko’s favorite game.  They hit it off and start a serious relationship.

Kasidy is a smuggler for the Maquis, an enemy of the Federation and Starfleet.  Clearly, she had her reasons for being a collaborator, and when she had to go to jail, she did so willingly and alone so that her crew could be protected.  It is never revealed why she chose to collaborate with the Maquis.  In fact, other than a few minor details, nothing is known about this beautiful, strong woman who becomes Captain Sisko’s wife.  It’s a complete injustice, as Kasidy is a very interesting character.  I’ve always wanted to know how she became a freighter captain, the relationship she had with her crew, some of their adventures, and details about her year in prison.

Hairstyle: FAIL!
You already know my feelings about DS9’s wardrobe.  They attired Kasidy in some of the ugliest, most hideous, velveteen uniforms I’ve ever seen.  I felt like Penny should have argued with the costume department and fought tooth and nail for a decent uni.  Also, her hairstyles left a lot to be desired.  Somebody should have been punched in the face for that mess.  The only time she looks decent is when she sports a beautiful teal dress and her purple robe.

One of the writers, in a case of epic failure, thought that it would be good for the Captain to knock up his wife at the end of the series, give her a bullshit ass first trimester, and then forget that she was pregnant.  I scoffed at this, because Kasidy never struck me as the housewifely type.  She didn’t cook, wasn’t a homemaker, and showed little interest in having children.  She loved her job and she fought for it when her husband decided to get up to some tomfoolery and convince her superiors to give her paid leave to keep her out of the shipping lanes during the Dominion War.  She dispensed with that shit quick, fast, and in a hurry.

Ankhesen said that Kasidy actually quit her job when she got pregnant, and had to take care of Jake after her husband went to be with the Prophets.  I call shenanigans on that bullshit as well.  The Kasidy that first appeared in Season 3 would not have done anything like that.  And Jake was an adult, so I know she wouldn't have taken care of his grown ass.  But still, I liked the character, especially since she was the only black woman seen with any regularity on the show.  She had brains, style (in spite of her hideous wardrobe), grace, athletic ability, and guts.  Therefore, this makes her worthy of Boss Chick status.

Seen here: Boss Chick

Next:  Kai Winn Adami
Previous:  Jadzia Dax, Kira Nerys


Boss Chicks: Jadzia Dax

I'm continuing my appreciation for the DS9 Divas.

Lieutenant Commander Jadzia Dax, played by Terry Farrell, was a joined Trill.  Before I continue my homage to Dax, I need to explain the significance of being joined.  To be joined means that the humanoid Trill is a host to a wise old symbiont.  The symbionts are special and must be protected at all times, to the detriment of the host.  Trills that are joined must undergo rigorous training because they absorb the memories of all of the symbiont’s previous hosts.  Trills that are eligible for joining look upon the event as an honor, and view the protection of the symbiont as their highest priority.  Jadzia was host to the Dax symbiont, a 300-year old creature.  She was Dax’s eighth host.  Her predecessor was a male Trill named Curzon.  Curzon had strong ties to the Klingon Empire.

Now, with that context, I can continue my analysis. Jadzia arrived on Deep Space Nine, and she was an enigmatic, beautiful woman who had a previous relationship with Captain Benjamin Sisko.  The prior relationship was actually with Curzon Dax, who was Sisko’s mentor.  Sisko always referred to Curzon as “old man,” and when Jadzia joined the crew and Sisko realized that she carried the Dax symbiont, and thus had Curzon’s memories, he started calling her “old man.” Because of her experience, she was typically the voice of reason for Sisko and his crew.  She was his confidant and he was hers; they regularly sought advice from one another.  Their bond was strong.

Jadzia was strong enough to handle seven lifetimes’ worth of memories, which is no easy feat.  Because of her experiences, she was able to have an appreciation for various activities.  She played tongo better than most Ferengi, loved to fight, fuck and party.  Jadzia was comfortable with herself and confident, had a zest for life and no shortage of suitors, including the young and inexperienced Dr. Julian Bashir.  Bashir was waaaay out of his league in his pursuit of Dax.  He was no match for her; she was far too much woman for him.  But when Lieutenant Commander Worf reported for duty on DS9, Dax took a liking to him.  She had an appreciation for Klingons & their culture, due to Curzon’s affiliation.  She pursued Worf in a relatively light-hearted way, pointing out that he couldn’t see what was before him.  Worf, lovesick over an unattainable female, Grilka, didn’t realize that Jadzia liked him until she challenged him in a Klingon courtship ritual.  Klingons are a tempestuous lot, and she and Worf became lovers, or par’mach-kai, after she initiated the ritual.  They were known for having rough sex, replete with broken bones, scratches, pulled muscles and dislocated joints.  

Klingon mating rituals don't scare me.  I'd do Worf.
They got married in Season Six.

Dax’s bachelorette party was awesome!  She had a fine-ass Polynesian fire dancer perform.  She punched out her future mother-in-law when she pulled a knife.  Everyone was dancing and drinking (and likely doing other things the camera couldn’t show), and Dax woke up with a massive hangover to the chagrin of her stoic and stalwart fiancé.  One could infer that she slept with the fire dancer, as she certainly intimated that she wanted to.  The wedding got called off, but eventually takes place when Sisko talked some sense into Dax.  Dax and Worf were a good match, and when she abruptly died at the end of Season Six, he was inconsolable.  The Dax symbiont ended up with an unworthy successor. 

Ezri Dax: FAIL!
The writers would have done better either recasting Terry Farrell (the actress) or letting the character of Dax die altogether.  Ezri could not fill Jadzia's shoes.

Chatty Cathy
I liked Dax.  I thought she was a fantastic character.  But there was a shift in her personality somewhere between Season Three & Season Four.  She was this quiet, wise, mysterious female, and then she became gossipy, silly and prone to throwing people under the bus.  She knew everyone’s business and told everybody everyone else’s business, and she did not have a problem discussing hers and Worf’s private life with everyone on the senior staff.  It was clearly a series of “WTF?” moments.

But in spite of these flaws, Jadzia Dax is still a boss chick; if for no other reason than loving a Klingon, wanting his children, and fucking his brains out.  That, my friends, is not something to be taken lightly.

Next:  Captain Kasidy Yates
Previous: Major Kira Nerys


The Gift & the Curse

“We of the craft are all crazy.”  --Lord Byron

Recently, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  I’ve always considered myself a bit…different…than others, especially growing up.  My mother always called me hyper or high-strung.  My temper was explosive, as were my crying spurts.  Neither made any sense; sometimes I raged, sometimes I cried, but during each phase, I wrote like a madwoman.  I have a cabinet of unpublished material that will probably never see the light of day due to the content.

After I lost my mother in 2008, my depression was deep and long.  I slept when I wasn’t working, and when I was at work, I’m not sure exactly what I did to get through the workday.  I was exhausted all the time and in this instance, I was too tired to write.  I knew something was wrong and eventually got some help.  I couldn’t go on like I was.

I was diagnosed first with depression, but my therapist noticed that I was also experiencing mania.  She asked me a series of questions, which ultimately led to the correct diagnosis and the correct medication.  Since that time, I have spent time examining the whole of my life and everything I’d experienced made complete sense.  Everything, especially the unpretty parts, I could understand with total simplicity.  The periods between mania and depression are called shifts, and if you look at the condition as a sine wave, manias are crests and depressions are troughs.  The zero point represents “normality.”

I want to be clear:  There is nothing wrong with me.  I was born with unbalanced neurotransmitters, and it is something I inherited from my mother.  Being born bipolar is no different than being born with diabetes; both are a result of chemical imbalances.  Just like a diabetic has to take insulin to regulate blood sugar, I have to take a pill that regulates my dopamine and serotonin levels.  It is by no means a perfect solution; the higher the dosage, the more balanced I am and I’m on a very low dosage by choice.  

As an author, I need my mania and depression in order to write.  I’ve been writing all my life and I have to do it or I don’t think I’d survive.  I lack the lucidity to tell stories when I’m “normal,” but when I’m shifting, I have total clarity and can write several novels at the same time.  I’ve been doing this for years, and I prefer my periods of shifting as opposed to being stable.  Most artists do, and a lot of them stop taking their meds, or refuse to take them at all because they lose the ability to create when they’re not shifting.  Sometimes the shifts are so bad and so extreme that the mind can't take it, and some people commit suicide.

However, my daily life requires enough stability so that bills can be paid.  Understanding my condition has allowed me to identify triggers of mania and depression and embrace them consequently.  I know what to expect and what to do when they come.  I know that there are times when I’ll cry or rage for no apparent reason, or I’ll find myself writing, painting, or building LEGO houses for hours on end without knowing how much time has passed.  I’ll know I’ll be on medication for the rest of my days, and I accept that as the way my life is.  It’s the gift and the curse.

I’m not afraid to share this information.  Mental disorders in the black community have often been overlooked and ignored.  I’ve often heard that mental illness is a “white folks’ thing,” and “Black folks can’t afford to be crazy.”  Black women are expected to be strong.  However, strength can be demonstrated in knowing when we need help and getting it accordingly.

There are plenty of authors, actors, musicians and artists who have suffered from bipolar disorder, including Virginia Woolf, Linda Hamilton, Charles Schultz, Vincent Van Gogh, Mary Shelley and Ludwig van Beethoven.  Other artists who’ve struggled with the disorder are Charley Pride, Tennessee Williams, DMX, Vivien Leigh, William Styron, and Bobby Brown.  Even people like Jane Pauley, Ruth Graham, Marlon Brando, Abraham Lincoln & Janet Jackson have all had experiences with bipolar disorder.  It is not a black thing, a white thing, or any kind of "thing."  It is a treatable condition, and the more people know about it and understand it, the sooner the stigma of being “crazy” can be put to rest.

Suggested Reading:
Touched With Fire & An Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield Jamison


Sexy Things (4)

I’ve always loved lingerie, but during the time of my emotional rollercoaster, I forgot all about wearing it for practical reasons.  But recently, I re-embraced my feminine  side and started wearing lingerie again.  I’d forgotten how good it felt to have silks and satins against my skin, and how liberating it is to walk through my house wearing little more than a piece of soft, colorful fabric.  I got rid of most of my big T-shirts and sleep pants and spent a nice piece of change on rebuilding my lingerie drawer—which now takes up two drawers, I happily add.  I have gowns, peignoirs, camis, teddies and little lace shimmies.  Before I go to sleep, I scent my sheets with either lavender or vanilla body spray and I am lulled into pleasant dreams about Rick Yune or Morris Chestnut…but I digress.

Ladies, if you’ve never worn lingerie, I suggest that you go pick up a few pieces.  You can find quality stuff all over.  My preference in stores is either Ashley Stewart or Lane Bryant.  Online stores include biggalslingerie and ILoveSexy, among others.  There is nothing that makes you feel more feminine than lingerie.  Have a gander:  

Need I say more?


Author's Roundtable

A few weeks ago, authors Denny Upkins, Hayat Ali, Ankhesen_Mié, and I got together to have a roundtable discussion.  The focus of this particular roundtable was the challenges that authors of color face in the publishing industry and in the media.  The roundtable was refreshingly honest, as each author represented different levels of experience and areas of expertise.  It was awesome to connect with like minds, as it is not something that happens on a daily basis in an author’s life.  Writing is a lonely process, as it should be, but it does help to know that we are not the only PoC authors toiling in the name of telling our own stories.

You can read the entire discussion here.

Denny Upkins is the author of Hollowstone.  A must read.

Hayat Ali is the author of The Alpha Promise.

Ankhesen_Mié is the author of Purple Jars of Rice, Folklore & Other Stories, Violet Dusk, and The Woman From Cheshire Avenue.  Chessy Ave is her latest.  You can find her most recent works at the Middle Child Press eBookstore.


Feenin' (9/9)

“Hunt me down?”

“This time of…illogic…strips Vulcans to their base natures.  My senses will be heightened and I will track you by your scent.  Wherever you are, I will find you. You will not be able to hide, though you may try.”

“Will I need to take some time off work?”

“It would be logical for you to do so.”

Sheila closed her eyes.  She made a mental note to check with the captain to see if he could offer her some advice.”

“I cannot promise that I will not hurt you, Sheila.  I will not be myself.”

“I can handle you, K’avir.  I can take it.  But I have a question.  You say you chose me.  When did you do that?”

“When you were still with your former consort.”



“K’avir? K’avir, really?” She hadn’t known that he even noticed her.  Life with Lenny was a hell all its own.

“Yes.  I knew that he abused you and that you tried to hide it.  You could not hide it from me.  It was in your eyes, in your face…and then one day it was not.  Your bruises began to fade and you did not have as many as before.  The look in your eyes changed.  You became harder, tougher and you survived.  You began fighting back.”

She blinked, remembering the pain and the abuse from Lenny until something inside of her snapped.  After he hit her in the kidneys one evening, she couldn’t get up for almost an hour and there was blood in her urine later.  When she was able to move around, she waited for him to sit and read a medical journal and then she smashed one of his large glass baubles against his head and put a shard of glass to his throat.  She made an inch-long cut across his throat and it scared the hell out of him.  After that, whenever he tried to hit her, she hit back, and gave as good as she got.  She broke Lenny’s nose and he stopped hitting her altogether.  From then on, he sought pleasure elsewhere and Sheila was relieved.

“I didn’t know that you knew.”

“I did not understand it either, for my experiences with human females are limited.  I meditated constantly.  Then the opportunity arose for you to gain combat instruction and I wanted the chance to teach you.  Your eagerness to learn stimulated me.  You are a warrior like me, Sheila.  You have that spirit.  You did not let him break you; indeed, you became better after your experience with him.  It is that which drew me to you, which made me choose you.”

“If I had never…would you have told me if I didn’t…the night we first…would you have said anything…?”

“It would have come to pass soon enough.  I have always been aware of your attraction to me.  You were not aware of mine.”

“K’avir,” she breathed, sitting up to put her arms around him.  “I had no idea.”

“I should hope not,” he said.  “I am Vulcan.  For me to reveal anything violates my discipline and training.  I will reveal myself only to you.”

“Good,” she said, nipping his earlobe.

“There are two other things I should mention.  It is something that you must acknowledge.”

“What?”  She pulled away to look at him.  “What is it?”

“The first is obvious.  You cannot bear children.  I am aware of this but it does not diminish my desire for you.”

She blinked rapidly, stunned that he even knew such a thing.  “You don’t have a problem with that?”

“I told you I wanted you just the way you are, Sheila.  I would never try to change you.  I just do not wish for you to worry about something that you cannot control.”

“You do not want children, K’avir?”

“I accept that we will not have children.”

Sheila closed her eyes, hoping that Lenny would burn in seven layers of hell for what he did to her.  She wanted kids and she would have loved being the mother of K’avir’s children.  But it wasn’t meant to be.  “I’m sorry.”

“Why do you apologize?  It was not your choice.”

“I struggle with that some days,” Sheila said.  “I wanted to be a mother and sometimes I think about it and it makes me sad.”

“When you are sad, I will comfort you.  Do not worry.  Now for the other issue.”

“What is it?”

“You were aroused during my confrontation with Lt. Matthews.”

Sheila looked at him.  “Yes.”

“Even though I intended to end his life.”

She looked at him closely.  “I couldn’t help it.  I felt something.”

“What did you feel?”

“Excitement.  Something, I don’t know, basic.  Something…pure.  Ancestral, maybe?  Something about you willing to kill for me.  I wish I could articulate it but I can’t.  Not that I wanted you to kill Julian, but…”

“Is it something that you could live with?  If I should have to take another’s life on your behalf?  I would do that, Sheila.  You must be aware that I will do it if I felt it was necessary.  I know that you can defend yourself, but it does not matter.  I will kill for you, k’diwa.”

“I don’t know, K’avir.  I admit, I got horny when you grabbed him and when you put him down while you were looking at me.  I couldn’t help it.  I don’t want you to kill anyone, but I do understand your desire to protect me.  I have a lot to work out, but I promise that I will work it out.  I don’t quite understand all this yet.”

“It is merely your fighting spirit; your subconscious response to my nature.  You get aroused when we fight.  You are turned on by the very nature of combat, be it positive or negative.  Do not hide it or diminish it.  Accept it and embrace it.  You are my woman, my mate, and it is acceptable behavior for you.  If this starship is attacked by the Empire, you and I will fight side by side.”

“K’avir, I’m a doctor.  I’m supposed to save lives.”

“But you have been forced to take them since the rebellion.  And you have embraced that.”

Sheila nodded.  He was right.  She felt good about every asshole she had to stab, shank, or shoot since Spock committed mutiny and turned against the Empire.  She harbored not one pang of regret or sympathy.  He was right.  She was hard, tough, and she could be ice-cold when it was required.  She was indeed a warrior.  This man was so right for her.  He had been under her nose the entire time, waiting for her to get the courage to change her circumstances.  Sheila felt herself getting warm again.  The painkiller had kicked in several minutes ago and she was very relaxed.  K’avir was an amazing man.  She had been foolish indeed to think that they couldn’t be anything more than sex partners.  She was grateful to the captain for his intervention and forcing her to see things as they truly were.  She could have lost her wonderful Vulcan boyfriend by being blind to one form of expression.

“Stay with me, K’avir.  Do you have duty tonight?”

“No.  I wanted to instruct you on how to use your tachi.”

My tachi?”

“I had it made for you,” he said.  “I would like for you to master it someday.”

“You had that beautiful sword made for me?”

“You are my match,” he said.  “My equal.  My mate.  You should have a particular level of skill in combat.  I feel it is a plausible request.”

“Tell me that you don’t need to be with the captain.”

“I do not unless he requests my presence.  He is in his quarters this evening.”

“So you can stay with me?”

“I would like to stay with you.”

“Then stay.  Don’t leave me.”

K’avir nodded.  “As you wish, ashaya.”

K’avir put his hand on her stomach and moved it back and forth.  He closed his eyes.  Sheila covered his hand with hers, liking the warmth and tenderness he exuded.

“K’avir, I like this.  I want you to touch me like this more often.”

He nodded.  “I will take an afternoon meal with you in the officers’ dining room.  There is a Vulcan chef.  I would like for you to try some Vulcan cuisine.”

Sheila beamed at him.  “I’ll try anything you want.”

“I cannot hold hands, but I will escort you to and from Medical Bay before and after your shift.”

“I can live with that,” she said.  “I want you to teach me how to speak Vulcan,” she said.  “I want to learn everything about you.  I need to know more about this man I love.”

K’avir stared at her belly.  “We will not engage in combat instruction for four days, four hours and forty-five seconds.  Your body must heal.  I have a request.”

“What is it?”

“Do not use the tissue regenerator to repair your arm.  Use a needle.  I would like for you to wear a scar.”

Sheila blinked, but then remembered the night she threw her blade at him and cut him.  He had asked her to use a needle to sew him up.

          “So that everyone knows,” she said.

          “Everyone should know by now,” he replied.  “You have never before made it a secret that I was training you in combat.  It was only with the arrival of Lt. Matthews that you began covering yourself.”

          She stared into his eyes.  “He kept asking questions and I decided on a whim to cover up so he wouldn’t ask me anything else.  I did tell him I was learning to fight, but it wasn’t a sufficient answer for him.  Don’t be mad.  He was concerned for my safety, but he couldn’t understand why I allowed myself to get banged up.  So I just started wearing my coveralls and lab coat.

          “Do not be ashamed of my display of affection.”

          “I’m not.  I’ll never cover up again.”  She sighed as she looked at him.  He started rubbing her legs and she stretched out to give him access.  The room got quiet as K’avir focused his attentions to her calves and ankles.  Sheila wanted to seduce her man, but she simply could not handle it.  Her body throbbed all over and it was nice to lie here and let K’avir tend to her.  How was it that two people could be so into each other like they were?  It was like their bodies were in tune with one another but their minds hadn’t caught on until now.  There was no need for words, for she understood him and he understood her, and all was right with the world.

         When Captain Spock briefed his senior officers the next morning, he was acutely aware of the ship’s Chief Medical Officer and his Chief of Security sitting next to one another.  They were the epitome of professional, listening and participating in the briefing; or at least she participated because he never spoke.  But the captain understood that words weren’t required to see that they had figured out one another.  When the briefing was over, the other officers got up, chatting with one another, but he pulled out her chair and helped her to her feet.  She stood up and they stared at one another for a moment before walking out of the ready room.  It might have taken all of a second, but Spock immediately recognized the intense passion between them and knew that he would have to initiate a bonding ceremony in the very near future.


A/N:  Since this is in essence, an OC fanfic due to the Star Trek references, I haven’t decided if I will continue this story in this form because I’m giving Sheila & K’avir their own series and don’t want to give too much away.  Some of K’avir’s Vulcan culture and background translates easily to his new identity, but most of it must be changed, and I don’t want to be redundant.  But I have not yet decided, as I’m governed by a muse and she may very well decide that there may be more of Sheila & K’avir’s story to be told in this iteration.  If that’s the case, then the only place you’ll find it is here in the Dark.  Thanks for reading and reviewing!  --Amaya


Step yo’ game up…or at least learn to spit it

So I know this guy.  He’s a good man; smart, funny, and talented.  I’ve known him for several years.  I know that he’s attracted to me; that he likes me and has for a little while.  The problem is that he’s passive and indirect.

Let me be clear: I have no interest in being with anyone right now.  I’ve got a lot of wonderful things happening and plans to live abroad within the next 18 months or so.  I’m selfish about my life and my time, and I know that messing around and falling for someone can derail some of my plans.  Fuck that. 

Now that that’s out of the way, let me continue with this little tale.  I have a very strong personality with a tendency towards bluntness.  Any man that is serious about dealing with me will know that from jump.  He’s got to be strong enough to handle me in the ways I need to be handled.  Some of you ladies know what I’m talking about, but I digress.  I’m not attracted to passive men.  I don’t notice them; they’re like gnats on a windshield.  I’m not so arrogant to think that just because a man says “hello,” that it means he’s trying to get with me.  I’m thinking that he’s merely being polite.  For a man to try and get at me requires substantial effort on his part; he’s got to go out of his way for me to notice him.  He’s got to spit some major game, and I don’t mean any lame ass pick-up lines lesser women fall for.  Otherwise, he’s an insignificant bug and not worth my time.  Just sayin’.

So this guy who I know likes me, hints all around it.  He says little things about us potentially being together and I just smile and overlook them.  He tried to ask me out once, and it took 45 minutes of him texting me and getting close, but he never came right out and asked me, and so we never went out.  I knew where he was going with it, but I am not about to help a man ask me out.  I need for a man to be a man and man the fuck up.  If you want to ask me out, then ask me out.  If you are attracted to me and want to know if it’s mutual, then ask me.  I’m not rude, mean, or inconsiderate, but I will be honest about where I stand.  But I do expect for a guy to be direct about such things, and I do expect for him to try and woo me.  I need for him to spit some real game; something meaningful that lets me know he’s serious.  I’m a flesh & blood woman, and I respond to the attentions of a man, but only if he’s a man about it.  Passive men simply cannot get it from me.  I’m too strong.  I couldn’t take such a man seriously and would consider him nothing but a bug to be squashed under my boot.

My father was a passive man and he got flattened by the steamroller that was my mother.  She told me when I was old enough to understand that I shouldn’t marry a man who was weaker than I was, because he will make me work harder than I should have to.  I took her words to heart.

The guy in question is a man who will make some woman a good husband.  I know he’ll be a good provider and will do his best to take care of her.  It will have to be a woman who is all right and can deal with his passivity.  I can’t do it, and I’m not about to lie to anyone and say I can.  There is a place in this world for a man like that, but by my side isn’t it.

Feenin' (8/?)

Sheila gasped.  When had he shown up?  Did he see Julian chasing her?  It didn’t matter; she knew from the look on his face that he was about to kill Julian. “K’avir!  K’avir, don’t...”

K’avir didn’t speak.  He took a step and got between Sheila and Julian.  Julian looked at him as if K’avir’s imposing stature was nothing to fear.  “So now what?  We fight?  We duel?  Your girlfriend is a fucking bitch!  She led me on!”

K’avir didn’t say anything, but Sheila could see his muscles ripple under his uniform.  She tried to reach for him, but when she tried to, her arm ached.  “K’avir, it’s all right.  I’m fine.  I’m okay.  Don’t kill him! Please!”

Her arm throbbed.  Julian yanked it hard enough that she thought he might have pulled the skin apart.  Sheila held her bicep and felt fear rising in her throat.  K’avir was going to kill Julian and he was too stupid to realize it.

K’avir took a step towards Julian.  Julian didn’t back down. 

“Julian, you need to get away from here!”

“I’m not scared of this guy.  He may have everyone else here punked, but I’m not scared.”

“You’re a damned fool!  Don’t you understand?  He’s going to kill you!”

“And you’re a lying bitch, so—”

K’avir flattened him with a punch to the face.  Julian’s nose broke, his lip split, and three of his front teeth went flying.  The blow sent him stumbling and he landed on his ass.  K’avir went towards him, fists clenching and unclenching.  Sheila grabbed his arm, not caring about her own.  Blood soaked her uniform sleeve.

“K’avir, baby, please don’t do it.  Don’t kill him!  I’m all right, let’s just go!”

He turned to look at her.  The look in his eyes was wild and dangerous and it frightened her a little but also aroused her.  She let him go, confused.  Julian got to his feet and put his hands to his face.  Blood ran out of his nose and mouth and covered the front of his uniform.  Sheila turned her attention to him.

“Julian, get the fuck out of here before he kills you!  HE WILL KILL YOU!  Don’t be stupid!  Don’t you get it??  He’s going to kill you!”

Julian didn’t have a chance to take two steps before K’avir’s hand was around his throat.  He lifted the bleeding man six inches off the ground, staring into his eyes.

“K’avir, please!”  Sheila went over to stand beside him.  She put her hand on his arm.  It was like iron.  “Baby, please…please don’t…”

Julian realized that he had committed a major mistake and tried to speak.  “Muh…smorry… ”

Sheila looked at him and then back at K’avir.  “K’avir, please!”

Julian was trying to break his grip and struggling to breathe.  He kicked and brought his fists down on K’avir’s arm, but the Vulcan was an immovable object.  K’avir stared at him, impassive, but raging inside.  Julian had dared— dared—to put his hands on Sheila; he had the testicular fortitude to actually grab her and re-injure her arm.  He insulted her and called her offensive names.  The line hadn’t just been crossed; it had been leapt over.  Julian’s behavior was unacceptable.  He was going to kill him.

“You were warned,” he said, his voice low and cold.  “I told you to stay away.”  He continued to squeeze, so angry that he didn’t feel Sheila’s hands on his arm.

Julian’s face was darkening and he had stopped struggling.  Sheila kept begging.  “K’avir, please!  Please stop!  Please stop!  For me, baby, for me, please don’t kill him!  I’m fine, I’m all right!”

“He touched you,” was his response.  “He insulted you.”

“It was my fault, K’avir.  He thought I was single!”

“It does not matter.  He was warned.  He will never harm you again, Sheila.”

Sheila put her hands to K’avir’s face and turned it towards her.  “Don’t do this.  Please don’t do this.  I love you.  I don’t want you to face disciplinary measures over him.  He’s not worth it.”

“The captain understands, Sheila.”

“He also told you to avoid it if possible.  I’m begging you to stop, K’avir.  I understand now.  I understand you.  Please let him go!”  She stared into his honey eyes, imploring him to stop.

K’avir didn’t take his eyes off Sheila.  She stared back at him, taking in the whole of him, breathing in his unique scent.  There was a moment of heat between them, a spark of something deep, primal and raw; some ancient force that drew them together and she found herself quite aroused.  K’avir stared back at her, allowing his gaze to slide down her body and back up again to her eyes and he took a deep breath.  He relaxed his grip and lowered Julian to the ground.  Julian fell down, coughing and sputtering, rubbing his throat.  Sheila spared him a brief glance and tapped her communicator.

          “Shawn, emergency medical team to my quarters, stat!” she said.

          Julian was curled in the fetal position, moaning and covering his face.  Sheila wanted to help him, but knew she could not go near him, lest K’avir finish what he started.  In moments, she heard members of the paramedic squad in the halls.  When the team leader arrived, she told them what kind of injuries Julian had and ordered the squad to beam him to sickbay.  She felt the need to inform him: “Shawn will take care of you and don’t you ever come near me again.”

Then she turned her attention back to K’avir, who was staring at her, breathing slowly and deeply.  That wild, dark look was still in his eyes.  Sheila couldn’t believe how turned on she was.  She met his gaze and swallowed, holding her arm.  Julian had indeed pulled her wound open; she could feel the blood trickling out.

K’avir stared at her, lowering his dangerous gaze to her arm.  He sniffed.

“Come on,” she said.  She grabbed his hand and led him to her quarters.  Once inside, she informed Shawn to expect a patient with throat injuries and a broken nose.  Shawn confirmed.

K’avir stood at the door, staring at her.  Sheila winced as she held her arm.  Slowly, she began to remove her coverall, being careful not to make the bleeding worse.  Then he was before her, helping her to remove her clothing.  She was still very sore and she took her time.  Sheila turned to look in her mirror as K’avir pushed her coverall over her hips and down her legs.  Slowly, she stepped out of it and kicked it to one side.

Then he was behind her.  Sheila stared into the mirror, at their reflection.   He was still breathing deeply, standing directly behind her.  She could feel his body heat.  He was calming down.  Sheila’s body was covered with large bruises from combat last night.  She took a painkiller right after she got dressed, but it was starting to wear off.  She sighed.  She was the girlfriend of a Vulcan warrior.  It was logical that he sought her protection above all else, even if he had to murder another man to ensure it.  She knew it was an expression of love and she could live with that.

Her arm was bleeding again.  She would have to get Shawn to repair her injury.  Sheila removed the bandage carefully and examined it.  It wasn’t too bad, but it was going to start throbbing if she didn’t take another painkiller soon.  To her surprise, K’avir carefully took her arm and raised it to shoulder level.  He began to kiss her wound tenderly and moved her so that she was between him and her mirror, caught in his one-armed embrace.  Sheila moaned.  The room was getting warm and she was standing in front of the mirror in her dark red lingerie and black boots with her knife still in its sheath.

He was licking the trickle of blood that oozed from her wound.  And to her surprise—not complete—she found herself getting aroused.  It seemed only natural that he would do this; after all, he was turned on by the sight of her body after they fought.  Aroused by her bumps, bruises and cuts.  He was a fighter and he preferred a woman who would fight back and his reward was the evidence of their combat.  That she was proud to walk around the ship bearing said evidence, with everyone knowing who gave them to her, pleased him.  She was really beginning to understand the dark beauty behind her, as well as herself.  She was learning what she wanted, what she craved and what made her come alive.  She had been dead for all those years before and with Lenny, but her Vulcan lover brought her back to life.

K’avir moved her hair to one side and his kisses went to her neck and shoulders.  His arms came around her to pull her to him.  “T’nash-veh vak-sur.  T’nash-veh vaksurik k’diwa.”

Sheila leaned into him, surrendering herself.  She was way too sore to make love to him, but it didn’t matter.  They didn’t have to.  She could tell him that there were other ways to show her that he desired her.

“K’avir,” she murmured.  “K’avir.”

“Sheila,” he breathed, turning his head to look at her reflection.

“I understand now.  I know what you want.”

“All I want, k’diwa, is you.”

“I know.”

“I have to learn your language of expression, but I will do it because I wish to please you.  I will not have you dissatisfied with me.”

“You don’t have that to worry about, baby.”

“I would have you right now,” he murmured, “but I know that you are not up to it.  I wish to remind you of my desire.”

“We don’t have to have sex for you to show me, K’avir.  And I understand that it is not something that you would say.  I just would like to have open, tangible reminders that you care for me.  I want to be seen with you, to hold your hand, to take meals together, or anything like that and I want you to be comfortable with it.  I understand that you are expressing your love in the way you know how, but I need a little more than that.”

“I do not know how.”

“I will show you if you trust me.  It will require you loosening your strict hold on your Vulcan disciplines, but surely you knew that when you chose me as your mate.”

“I am willing.”

“And I will learn how to speak your language so that our communications are always clear from now on.  You must teach me that.”

“I will.”

She smiled and rubbed his hair.  “Would you get me a painkiller hypo out of the drawer over there?  I’m going to be hurting in a little while.”

K’avir grabbed the hypo and handed it to her.  Sheila injected herself and turned to face him.  She cupped his cheeks and kissed his lips.  His breathing increased and he grabbed her ass.  “I do not wish for another to have you, Sheila.  I do not want you with anyone but me.”

“I don’t want anybody else, K’avir.  I didn’t really want Julian, but he paid attention to me in a way that you didn’t, or couldn’t.  He took meals with me and talked to me.  I recognize that he was trying to initiate a relationship with me, but I told him that I didn’t want that.  I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

“It does not matter,” he said.  “I will protect you and defend you with my life.”

“I won’t have a life if you’re not here, K’avir.  I’m crazy about you.”

He caressed her bruised back, staring at it in the mirror.  “You must lie down,” he said.  “You are sore and I can feel your tension.  I will attend you.”

“All right.”

She started to walk to the bed, but he picked her up and carried her.  She let him, staring into his amber eyes, which were filled with so much tenderness that it made her breath catch.  He laid her on the bed and sat beside her and began to remove her boots.  Sheila let him, realizing that he was making an attempt to show her his feelings outside of sex.  Normally, he tore off her clothes.

“I want you to be content with me.  I do not want you displeased.  I will do my best to give you what you ask for, Sheila, but I am Vulcan and we do not let our emotions come to the surface.”

“But you almost killed Julian.”

“He hurt you.  He put his hands on you.  I will not have another man claim my woman.  You are my chosen mate.  Vulcans do not share and violence does occur when such circumstances arise.”

“I understand that you will undergo a period of illogical behavior soon and that I must be bonded to you before it takes place.”

“We do not discuss it, but you are correct.”

“Will you talk to me about it before it happens?”

“I will make every attempt because you must be informed.  It is not pleasant.  I could hurt you, hence the reason for your advanced training.  You may find it necessary to fight me off.”  He removed her stockings, one at a time and began to massage her legs.

Sheila gaped at him.  “Fight you off?”

“It can be violent.  Combat helps to alleviate some of the tension, but I will be insane and driven by a singular act: to mate with you.  I am not a small man and you will require periods of nourishment and rest, which I won’t allow.  You will have to fight me off in order to have it.  You will have to run from me, Sheila.  You will have to hide from me.  In this instance you will want to keep yourself from me, but you will not be successful, for I will hunt you down and I will have you.”

Sheila closed her eyes and felt two things simultaneously: a finger of fear and a hand of excitement.