TITLE: Bewitched, Bedazzled and B’Elanna
AUTHOR: Alice Max
RATING: NC-17 (graphic situations and language)
DATE POSTED: 10/1/02
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns these characters but the story is mine.
SUMMARY: Set sometime at the end of sixth season. B’Elanna treats herself to a Voyager Halloween Costume Party. Tom, on the other hand, has a few tricks up his sleeve before the party begins. Together they celebrate the traditional “trick or treat” – with a P/T twist.
‘Nothing seems edible here,’ Ensign Tom Paris scowled as he shuffled through the Mess Hall lunch line. ‘For once,’ he thought, ‘I’d like to see something that I recognize before my taste buds go altogether.’ Paris’ displeasure with the lunch menu certainly was infectious. It seemed like everyone in line was about to loose their appetite the closer they moved toward the food. The scowling was more apparent as each one of the crewmembers filed by the steaming pot and watched in horror as Neelix scooped up a heaping ladle of ‘goo’ from the container. The mixture was allowed to flow in wild abandon on a clean plate – served with a smile from the Talaxian, no less! Watching that point of contact over and over again was enough to make Tom bail from the line with only a cup of coffee on his tray.
Searching the Mess Hall for a familiar face, his eyes settled on Harry and B’Elanna sitting together having lunch at a table within earshot of him. Tom managed to filter out the noise that surrounded him and proceeded to direct all of his attention to their conversation. The discussion, from what he could decipher, concerned their proposed attire to the Halloween costume party tonight in the Mess Hall. Harry opted to go as Buster Kincaid, ace reporter and Captain Proton’s trusty sidekick. Ensign Kim confessed to B’Elanna that his choice was made solely on the Delaney sisters’ decision to dress as Melissa and Demonica - the Twin Mistresses of Evil. Straining to hear the rest of their conversation, Paris thought he heard B’Elanna mention to Harry that she decided to wear the costume she wore to the St. Patrick’s Day celebration at Fair Haven this year.
Tom’s body was moving slowly to the front of the line but his thoughts quickly flashed back to that celebration. B’Elanna finally consented, much to his surprise, to join both Harry and him for a drink at the Fair Haven pub holoprogram. They had fun that night, or so he assumed, guzzling numerous glasses of green beer and trying (indirectly) to drink each other under the table. Paris recalled that Harry was the first to drop out of this unspoken contest when he passed out on the table they were sitting at in the pub. After Ensign Kim admitted defeat, Tom wasn’t quite sure who won the contest. The next series of flashbacks involved two gents escorting him to a cot in the backroom of the pub. His memories fast-forwarded to focus on an image of B’Elanna stripped down to her undergarments, lying rather seductively next to him on the cot. He couldn’t remember why or how her dress was removed or even who removed it. That didn’t seem to matter. His musings concentrated on that alluring vision of femininity that lay before him. She looked so inviting, so downright tantalizing in the white lacy pair of bloomers that adorned her shapely legs. His heart quickened as he envisioned her body turning and stretching on the bed encased in a titillating sexy white corset that clung to her shapely torso. He began to salivate thinking of the way the corset moved to expose more and more of her cleavage as she shifted from one sultry pose to another on the cot. Perspiration was forming on his brow as he studied the shape of her silhouette emerging through her silky bloomers. He never imagined that a woman could look so vulnerable and provocative at the same time. Gods what he would give, at that very moment, to feed his immediate craving for that delectable Klingon treat!
Paris’ glorious daydream was shattered when he felt something heavy hit his plate. Tom looked down and sneered at what appeared to be gruel swimming in gravy. The smell alone was enough to ruin even the fiercest of appetites and stifle any further attempts at reaching a very explosive arousal.
Trying to position himself downwind of the smell, Tom responded to B’Elanna’s wave and approached their table.
“Pull up a chair Ensign,” B’Elanna said as she finished her coffee. “Starfleet and I were just talking about the costume party tonight.”
“Is Captain Proton going to make an appearance?” questioned Harry with a sarcastic undertone.
“I don’t see why not,” confirmed Tom. “It’s the only chance I get these days to outrank the Chief.”
“Not bad Paris,” complemented Torres as she nodded a smile in Harry’s direction.
A reflective smile appeared on Tom’s face but his thoughts still couldn’t erase that image of B’Elanna from his mind. That paradoxical vision bedazzled him the more he thought about it. Slowly alienating himself from the current table gossip, Tom began to fantasize about his feminine Klingon lover. Staring right at her as she talked, he imagined her sitting there, cross-legged, wearing only the white corset and bloomers. She was talking to Harry but out of the corner of her eye she was teasing Tom in a coquettish way by moving her foot up the inseam of his uniform. Knowing she had his undivided attention, she brought the coffee cup to her luscious cherry red lips and, at the same time, wiggled her toes up to touch his crotch. Paris continued to visualize her engrossed in the conversation while her toes rubbed his erection to an uncomfortable hardness. Her relentlessness made Tom jump back to reality. He blinked to focus on the conversation again and tried to suppress the urge to grab her, throw her across the table and ravish her right there, in front of everyone in the Mess Hall - consequences be dammed. Instead, Paris chose to postpone this public display of affection. His plan would involve a more intimate way of showing his admiration for what he hoped she would wear under her dress this evening. Timing would play an integral part, if this plan were to succeed. Unconsciously, Paris blurted out, “By the way, what time is the party tonight?”
“You’re serious? I don’t believe it,” exclaimed Harry. “You’re the one that usually has to remind us about these activities.”
“It’s just my way of keeping you both on your toes,” Tom remarked in a fit of nervous laughter.
“In case you’re not kidding,” replied B’Elanna, “the party starts tonight at 02000 hours.”
“I’ll be there,” smiled Tom.
“Well, if you two ‘party animals’ will excuse me, I’ve got to get back to work,” sighed Harry as he lifted his tray from the table.
“I’ll walk you out, Harry. I need to get back to work also,” said B’Elanna.
“Me too,” agreed Tom.
“Tom you haven’t even touched your food,” exclaimed B’Elanna.
“It’s OK B’Elanna,” he pouted, glaring at the food on his tray. “I think I just lost my appetite.”
“Well, that’s just great!” Torres yelled sarcastically as she primped in front of her bathroom mirror. “Two crewmen out sick on the Gamma shift and no one to replace them because they ALL want to go to this party.” She circled her quarters continuing to smooth the wrinkles from her long green dress in hopes that this action would also straighten out her problems. As she circled her quarters, she devised a plan to combine business with pleasure. She would first stop by Engineering before the party to check on the shift change, then make a brief appearance at the party and leave early so that she could work through the Gamma shift to fill in for the missing people. B’Elanna was really looking forward to a little fun and relaxation at the party tonight but ‘a Chief Engineer’s work is never done,’ she thought and adjusted the tightly frilled collar on her bodice. Before she put her plan in motion, she decided to contact Engineering for an update.
“Torres to Engineering. Is anybody there?”
“Ensign Vorik here Lieutenant. Can I assist you?”
“Vorik,” B’Elanna sighed with relief. “How’s it going down there?”
“We are proceeding without incident, Lieutenant. However, we do seem to be missing two crewmembers on the Gamma shift.”
“I know, that’s why I’m checking in with you. Do you need some help?”
“Thank you for your offer but I believe the situation is under control. The assignment schedule tonight should not be burdensome and can still be adequately accomplished by the rest of the Gamma shift.”
“Glad to hear it, Vorik. Contact me if there are any problems. Torres out.”
Glancing at the chronometer, she had time for one more quick inspection in the mirror before she left for the party. She noticed some stray hairs escaping from her chignon and tried to put the last of the finishing touches to her hairstyle when her door chime sounded. Securing the stray hairs falling from her chignon, she walked hastily to the door to manually answer it.
“Tom, she exclaimed, “it’s you. I thought you were going to meet me at the party. What are you doing here?”
Tom was standing at her door with a large bottle in this hand. “I, uh, wondered if you wouldn’t mind tasting something for me.” Before she could offer her consent to enter, he walked over to her replicator and ordered two glasses. Taking the glasses and bottle over to where she stood, he poured some of the liquid into one of glasses and handed it to her.
“What’s this?” she questioned as she examined the liquid in the glass.
“It’s called Irish Whiskey,” he replied as he poured some of the liquid into the other glass. “I got it from the Fair Haven pub and I was going to bring it to the party tonight.”
“So that explains your costume,” she commented, glancing at him from head to toe. Paris was dressed in a tailored pair of black pants and a white cotton shirt that was casually unbuttoned at the collar. On top of the shirt was a form fitting black cotton vest that accentuated his broad shoulders. To complete his ensemble, he wore a black cap that covered his strawberry blond tousled hair. She thought it odd that he wasn’t wearing his Captain Proton outfit but then realized it was still early and he was probably more in need of her opinion at this time. Tom drank some of the whiskey in the glass, and then encouraged her to taste test.
B’Elanna sniffed the liquid and remarked, “It smells kind of spicy.” She raised the glass to her mouth and cautiously sipped the drink. “Ummm, it tastes like vanilla ice cream – I thought it would taste spicy. That’s quite a deceiving little drink.” Torres was pleasantly surprised and continued to drink her drink until she finished the whiskey in her glass. That aperitif certainly seemed to cut through some the tension that was building up inside her regarding her change of plans for the evening.
Rationalizing that one more glass of whiskey would relax her so that she could enjoy the party, she looked at Tom and pleaded, “Can I have a little more before we leave for the party?”
Tom was more than willing to oblige. Hell, that was his ulterior motive for this evening – to get her drunk so that he could recreate the memory of last St. Patrick’s Day, which was now very fragmented for him. The only difference would be his hesitation to participate in any drinking games. And the only solution was to cheat to win this time and remain sober enough to remember every erotic detail about tonight.
After Torres swallowed a few more glasses of whiskey, she was beginning to feel the intoxicating effects of the 80 proof substance. Her ‘relaxed’ condition was impairing her awareness of how attentive Paris was about her refills. Needless to say, Tom was feeling victorious to see Torres revert more to her passive Human side instead of her routy Klingon half as the minutes ticked by. In fact, Tom knew B’Elanna was getting close to a ‘buzz’ from the whiskey by the way she began to slur her words and giddy way she spoke to him. The plan was working nicely. No matter how she babbled on about her day, Tom listened, smiled and made sure that her glass was never empty. At one point in her ramblings, she vaguely remembered that they were to attend a party that evening and attempted to stagger toward the exit. Tom wasn’t about to share his victory with anyone and quickly traced her movements toward the door. As it swished open, he pulled her defenseless body away from the door and slammed her against one of the walls in her living area. His arms surrounded her on either side, tightening the area with which she could move.
“Tom, let me go,” exclaimed B’Elanna struggling unsuccessfully to break free.
“Go where? He questioned firmly. “To hell with the party,” he said angrily.
He stared at her as if he was about to devour her whole with his hungry eyes. With all that passion welling up inside him, he spilled his thoughts to her out loud, “You can’t leave now. All I thought about was you today and I’m not about to end this. . . not when I’m this fucking close to you.” That emotional outburst lead the Chief Helmsman to claim her lips with a forceful kiss. Plunging his tongue inside her mouth, Paris offered her a prelude of erotic pleasures to come before the evening was over.
The kiss was long and powerful causing B’Elanna to push him away as she gasped for air. She clutched and pulled at her collar in order to free herself from the restrictive clothing and breathe easily again. Realizing that she was in need of some medical attention, Tom quickly unfastened her dress to give her more freedom of movement. The dress fell to the floor and surrounded her feet in one big heap. Relieved that she could now breathe again, B’Elanna inhaled deeply and, as she exhaled, Torres collapsed into Tom’s waiting arms. Paris threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the bedroom, gently depositing her motionless frame on the bed.
Tom rubbed his eyes with his fingertips before he studied her from head to toe. ‘Gods, she looks just like an angel. A hauntingly beautiful, very enchanting angel dressed in white,’ he whispered out loud. She was wearing the very same undergarments that he fantasized about this morning. He watched in anticipation as the white corset hugged tightly to her torso with every breath she took. He ogled at how the delicate lacing over her cleavage expanded and contracted to synchronize with the rise and fall of her chest. He became aroused when he noticed that he could see the shape of her silhouette cling to the silkiness of her bloomers. Paris looked down at his growing erection and smirked at his obsession with these two antiquated garments. He thought of many attractive females in his past that enticed him wearing attire that was much more revealing. B’Elanna was definitely in the top percentile of women who drove him crazy by wearing various outfits that flattered the figure. But somehow this was a different kind of excitement. He could feel himself loosing control: similar to how he once felt when the aliens put microscopic tags on his DNA. His hormones were running amok as he traced the outline of her figure with his fingers. Marveling at the different textures, his hands stroked across her silky bloomers, fondled her satin corset and caressed her velvety skin. Clearly he could have blamed his condition on alien intervention or some kind of Human Pon Farr or considering this was Halloween, maybe this was all some sort of elaborate trick Torres was playing on him.
He brushed some of the stray hairs from her face, which made her moan into a very sensuous position on the bed. Tom’s heart pounded in his chest as he gingerly unlaced the front of her corset to leisurely expose her breasts and perky peach nipples. Lowering the satin covering, he replaced the fabric that touched her skin with his hands. His fingers flicked her nipples to their tautness in his attempts to elicit a response from his lover. B’Elanna drowsily responded, raising her arms up over her head and turned her torso toward him. A contented smile appeared on her face, which indicated to him that she was still in a rather euphoric mood. He found her compliance irresistible and could no longer fight the urge to bury himself in her cleavage and fill his nostrils with her spicy sent. The intensity of her sent was overwhelming and made him feel hungry. . . all over. B’Elanna giggled at the touch of his lips planting a trail of wet kisses and nips around each breast. Transferring his attention to her lips, Tom parted them with his tongue and quickly plunged it deep into her mouth making her gasp at the impact. The contact grew to such a smothering forcefulness that it prompted B’Elanna to open her eyes and shove Paris away from her. She sat up in bed gasping and coking for air, and, at the same time, gave him an incredulous stare regarding what he had just done.
Panting and bedazzled regarding how strong his craving was for her, Tom knew that he owed her an explanation for his erratic behavior this evening. He searched his thoughts to express how he felt.
“B’Elanna, please forgive me. I’ve had this hunger inside me all day,” he confessed. “But it wasn’t for food or drink. . .it was for you.”
“Tom. . .I. . .”
“B’Elanna I don’t expect you to understand because quite frankly, I’m not sure I understand why I feel this way. It’s not just the way you look. You’re different somehow – everything about you excites me tonight. It’s like I’m under some sort of spell or something,” he shook his head in disbelief. Paris knew he did the right thing by telling her exactly how he felt but it still was dammed uncomfortable.
“Tom, what are you talking about?”
“The fact is that I can’t get enough of you, B’Elanna,” he admitted. “You’re like food to a starving man and I can’t wait any longer to taste you!”
He gently kissed her cheek then opened his mouth wide enough to show his teeth and bit down hard on the place that he just kissed to mark her. B’Elanna growled as Tom pierced her skin and drew blood from the bite. He could taste the saltiness in his mouth, which encouraged him to go farther with his obsession to continue to devour her.
Paris then moved his hands greedily down her body to stroke her skin under the silky texture of her bloomers.
“I promise, I’ll be gentle this time.”
Grabbing the delicate waistband, he gradually slid the bloomers down her legs, off of her body and tossed them on the floor next to the bed. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the smoothness of her skin.
“You shaved,” he smiled approvingly at her.
“I wanted to feel the silk against my skin,” she smiled as she bent one knee to strike another seductive pose.
Tom rolled his eyes, shook his head and grinned at her. She was a paradox all right. Her response was one of child-like innocence but her body language was devilishly naughty. And he honestly had to admit that he wasn’t sure which one was the most erotic of the two.
“Alright Torres, who is seducing who?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean Tom?” she replied slurring her words and attempting to lift her head up from the bed.
“Oh I think you do and stop trying to confuse me,” he said firmly.
“OK,” she remarked and placed her head back down on the pillow.
“OK then,” he grumbled. “So you like the feeling of silk against your skin? Well, here’s something else you might like.” Paris gently bent her other knee and pushed her legs open.
She quivered as his hands reached underneath to grab and lift her derrière toward him. B’Elanna began to squirm and moan as Tom rubbed his cheeks over her hot, moist vulva, turning occasionally to tenderly kiss the sensitive area. His hands were cradling and massaging her cheeks as his mouth pressed up against her pouting lips. Paris began to join Torres in a series of moans as he plunged his slick, hot tongue into her slit and lapped eagerly at her juices. He could feel himself engulfed in the taste and the smell of her as he satisfied his voracious appetite. His continuing ministrations caused his breathing to become labored and his body to break out into a fevered sweat. This torrid activity was reaching a point where his erection was getting rather uncomfortable underneath his clothing. Paris stopped for a minute to cool off by removing his clothing and threw them into a pile on top of her bloomers. His naked skin glistened in the artificial light as the recycled air started to evaporate every bead of sweat from his body. He took the bottle of Irish whiskey from the table and brought it over to the bed where B’Elanna lay panting. Raising the bottle to his lips, he took a swig and then proceeded to give his lover a drink. Standing next to the bed, his crotch in her face, he brought the bottle to her lips to quench her thirst. B’Elanna raised her head and drank impatiently from the bottle causing Paris pulled it away from her when she began to cough as the whiskey hit the back of her throat.
“Are you OK?” he questioned looking rather concerned.
“I thought you were bringing me some water,” she replied.
“Sorry,” he apologized and sprinted over to the replicator to order a glass of ice-cold water then brought it over to her. B’Elanna sipped to taste the water, then drank it eagerly.
“Ah, much better. Thanks. I was burning up,” she admitted.
“So does this mean you’re ready for me now?” he asked with a glint in his eye.
She squinted and blinked to focus on his face. “Wha?”
“I know just the thing to cool you off,” he promised as he reached for the remainder of the whiskey. “Trust me. You’ll enjoy this – almost as much as I will,” he said hesitantly as he took another sip of whiskey.
With bottle in hand, Tom lowered himself over her body and spread B’Elanna’s legs slightly apart. He ran his hand between her legs and felt her wet, hot centre throbbing under his touch.
“I want you to spread your legs further apart for me, babe,” he said firmly to her. Torres was still in a ‘dream-like’ state and responded to him rather quickly.
“That’s my girl.”
Tom stiffened again as he gazed at her blushing-red swollen lips unfolding before him, greeting him with a shimmering wetness, much like morning dew on a blossoming flower. Paris opened her lips to inspect the full blossom and gently licked at the wetness that was continuously drenching her genitals. He then stopped to drizzle some of the whiskey starting from the top of her slit and caught the droplets with his tongue as the liquid reached the base. B’Elanna flinched when she felt the mixture of ice cold and burning sensations touch her skin. Meanwhile, Tom observed the whiskey trickle into a sensuous waterfall down her slit and then began to slurp her nectar hungrily. All of these wonderful sensations caused Torres to pant, twitch and actually beg for a release from this frenzied state. Probing with his fingers inside her, he vibrated her clit with his tongue until he felt a series of tremors warning him of her impending climax. He bit at her clit, which caused a gush of liquid to splash in his face. Laughing at a job well done, he moved to kiss her, making her taste the mixture of Irish whiskey and herself on his lips. B’Elanna was lucid enough to be amazed at how the two tastes complemented each other.
Torres felt her second wind as she rolled him over on his back and straddled him. Without warning she fell on to his hard cock and attempted to move up and down on him without assistance. Tom watched as her breasts bounced slightly, secured by the white corset holding on to her body. Still maintaining a feeling of lightheadedness and trying not to fall, Torres rode Paris like a drunken cowboy on a bucking bronco. When Tom saw that she could no longer continue, he held on to her and laid her on her back again. He then took control of the rhythm as he navigated their way to a long awaited destination this evening - their climax.
Feeling a little woozy from all of this activity, B’Elanna drowsily glanced at Tom’s clenched face as he hammered his member inside her at a steady but fast pace. At this point, her body could barely respond to the sound of his increased moans, groans and grunts encouraging her to stay with him and join him in one incredible orgasmic experience. Torres fought hard to regain control but his voice slowly decreased in volume until there was silence. The absence of noise was a welcomed and peaceful sensation – almost like experiencing the stillness of a “Zero G” effect she once encountered in a training simulation at Starfleet Academy. The controlled environment felt very much like being in her mother’s womb. She was sheltered from all who could harm her floating in this secure apparatus. The only sound she could hear was that of her own heart beating out a pleasant lullaby to rock her to sleep. In the distance, outside her secured shell, she could hear a faint voice calling to her. The sound became louder and louder causing her to open her eyes to focus on a familiar face.
“Tom? What happened?”
“You passed out Honey,” he smiled, relieved to see that she was OK. “I always knew I was too much for you,” he gloated. “You know, you are very fortunate to have an excellent lover who also doubles as a handsome medic.”
“I felt like I didn’t have control of my body,” she said honestly. “Can you please help me with this?” Torres started to undo her corset and with a little help from Paris was successful in removing it. “Ahhh, that’s much better. Thank you.”
“Anything else you need, ma’am? Another drink perhaps?”
“Uh, no thanks. I think I’ve had too much to drink tonight,” she smirked. “In fact, this entire night has been a blur.”
“I’ll fill you in tomorrow because quite frankly, I’m not sure how this evening is going to end yet.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” she said as she pulled the bedcovers over her naked body. “Good night Tom. . .and thanks for the help.”
“In that case. . .I’ll join you,” he said as he crawled into bed and spooned close to her.
“I had a great time tonight, thanks to you.”
“My pleasure. I think.”
Tom Paris trudged into the Mess Hall the next morning seeking out the smell of coffee brewing. He had a hangover as big as the Delta quadrant and his tongue was as dry as Vulcan. Gravitating toward the pot of coffee, he wondered if anyone would mind if he drank the entire pot and went back for seconds. His actions were serious enough to warrant a visit from the Chief Moral Officer.
“Tom, oh my, you don’t look so good,” Neelix exclaimed looking rather concerned. “We missed you and B’Elanna at the party last night. Did the Doctor order her to stay with you until you were better?”
“What? No, I just had a little too much to drink last night, Neelix,” he replied rubbing his forehead. “Have you seen B’Elanna today?”
“Yes, she was here quite early.”
“How did she look? Was she feeling all right?” Tom was definitely curious to know if B’Elanna was feeling the same way he felt (or worse) this morning.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself? She’s over there talking to Lieutenant Nicoletti.”
Tom’s expression was one of shock when he observed B’Elanna standing next to Susan Nicoletti’s table, with one hand on her hip while her other hand was holding on to a cup of coffee. As he walked toward her he noticed something strange about her behavior. Lt. Torres was laughing. She didn’t appear to be a bit under-the-weather! Paris stood behind her and gently tapped her on the shoulder.
“Can I see you for a moment, Chief?”
B’Elanna ended her conversation with Nicoletti and followed him to a corner table to sit and talk.
“Hey, how are you doing this morning?” he said searching for any signs of discomfort in her face.
“I feel great, Tom. How about you?” she said cheerfully.
“Ah,….just great,” he retorted with a painfully puzzled look on his face. “Did you have a nice time last night?”
“I had a wonderful time at the party,” she replied, patting his hand.
Her statement intensified Paris’ confusion to the point that he had to ask ‘the’ question. “What exactly do you remember about last night?”
“Not much, just that I know I had a great time,” she smiled as she drank her coffee. “Oh, and I remember drinking something that tastes like ice cream.”
“That was Irish Whiskey. I brought some to your quarters last night for you to taste. . .remember?”
“Oh, well it delicious,” she remarked, continuing to smile at him.
“I’m glad you liked it,” he muttered.
Tom looked rather hurt that B’Elanna didn’t recall any of the events that led to that steamy night of lovemaking. It was a night he soon would not forget. In hindsight, he hoped that she wouldn’t forget either.
“By the way, are you doing anything for dinner tonight?” she asked.
“I guess not….ah, not really,” he said. “I was planning to go to bed early, though.”
“Well, I did need your help with something but I guess it can wait,” she remarked nonchalantly.
“YOU need MY help?” He reached for her coffee and took a sip to clear his mind. “Well, how about if I stop by after my shift is over. Say 01900 hours?”
“Great. I’m sure I’ll be starving by then.”
Tom’s curiosity got the best of him and he was dying to know why, all of a sudden, she wanted his help. He traced the rim of her coffee cup with his fingers and casually said, “I hope I will be of some help to you.”
“I’m sure you will,” she nodded as she rose from her seat leaving her coffee cup in Paris’ possession. “I have a variation on a new desert I was going to try and I’m going to need your opinion.”
Tom smiled at her and hoped that by this evening he would recover his appetite.
Torres started to walk toward the exit, stopped and returned to the table where Tom was finishing her coffee. “Oh and by the way the desert will be on you tonight!”
She quickly turned and walked toward the door, knowing very well whom everyone was staring at. Tom had just done a spit-take with the rest of her coffee.
As the Mess Hall door closed, B’Elanna burst out into a laugh and shouted out loud “Gotcha!”