The Star Trek: Voyager premise and its characters belong to Paramount Studios. No infringement on Paramount's rights is intended. This round robin group story was written by fans and is meant for fun only. Please keep this disclaimer attached to the file.PoisedSession One: Pencil     "Thank you, B'Elanna, for agreeing to pose for this project. I know sitting in one position for too long can be rather taxing for a Kling--for such an active person as yourself."     "It's all right, Kes, I think I can handle an hour of sitting still."     The doors slid open and in stepped Lieutenant Paris. "Sorry I'm late, Kes. I got held up in an *engrossing* conversation with Ensign Tok'Bar about shuttle propulsion," explained Paris sarcastically.     "What are you doing here, Tom?" inquired a surprised Torres.     "Tom is my other model, B'Elanna," answered Kes.     "Why didn't you use Simms and Lamont again?" asked Paris.     "They needed a break. Ensigns Simms and Lamont sat for my pencil sketches as well as my watercolors. We had a wonderful time programming the holodeck for the settings: the Mediterranean at sunset, Lake Serat on Taros IV. I'm studying sculpture now with you two as my next models. I've already done a bust of Neelix, and I'd like to try something more complex. I'll be using Anterian clay to mold your images. It's such wonderful material! So pliable, but when baked at 400 degrees Celsius, it hardens and resembles something like alabaster, and just by varying the temperature a few degrees, you can achieve an array of colors!"     "How long will this take?" asked B'Elanna, eyeing the shapeless clump with a concerned look.     "Just a few sessions. I won't complete it all on one sitting! I'll make a few pencil sketches too, for when I work on details when you aren't available."     "Why have real models or sketches?" questioned B'Elanna. "Why not just use our holographic images?"     "Because, B'Elanna! I want to mold the clay, to capture and translate living forms into the medium. Working from a play of light just isn't the same!" said an impassioned Kes. "Why have any art at all if it can be programmed as a holo-image? Would it even exist as 'art' then? It's fine for educational purposes--obviously you can't always travel to the museums--but I want this experience! I've read many of your philosophers' debates since the invention of holo--"     "Shouldn't we be naked?" interrupted Paris with a roguish smile to B'Elanna.      "That won't be necessary, Tom. However, I do have some clothing I'd prefer you wear," said Kes, searching through her knapsack. "I think it would suit the subject better than Starfleet uniforms." She handed Tom and B'Elanna some carefully folded clothes.     "Where'd you get this?" asked B'Elanna, marveling at the diaphanous material in her hands.     "On Beros Prime. It's worn by the young women during the northern continent's Spring Moon festivals. I just loved the feel of the silky material," said Kes, touching the fabric. "So soft and smooth. They say during the festivals, the light of the spring moon makes the material shimmer in such a way a young woman is sure to find her future mate."     "It's a little short," observed B'Elanna holding up the dress which fell a good ways above her knees.     "I like it," approved Paris as he stepped from behind his dressing screen. He'd changed into the poet's shirt and loose trousers.      "Hold it, Tom," said Kes, rummaging through her bag again, "There's also a vest you should wear. I hope it's not too small for you."     "No problem," answered Tom, slipping on the brown garment she handed him. "Fits fine. How do I look?"     "Like a farm boy," smirked B'Elanna. She joined them at the circular platform.     "Well, you certainly don't look like a milkmaid," purposely leered Paris, aware of Torres' constant effort to pull down the dress. She threw him a warning look that he thoroughly ignored.     "Let's begin," said Kes, "First I will have to position you--please stand shoulder-to-shoulder."     "What did you have in mind?" asked a wary B'Elanna. It was one thing to sit still for an hour, it was another thing to sit still for an hour in a translucent dress next to Tom Paris.     "I was hoping to try a variation of the Earth sculptor Rodin's 'Le Baiser.' Tom, face the other way."     "The Kiss? Well, now this should be fun," drawled Paris as he turned around.     "Actually the figures aren't kissing, Tom," said Kes, handing him a padd with an image on the screen. "They're poised to kiss; that's what makes it so alluring and so beautiful! As the audience, you're drawn to it, to wonder whether they did or did not kiss, and if so, what was it like? I hope to capture that same fascination."     Kes returned to the matter at hand. "Computer, two stools for the Lieutenants. If you'll have a seat," she gestured to the stools. Torres and Paris now sat facing opposite directions, his left shoulder to her right. "Now Tom, put your left hand next to B'Elanna's right hip," ordered Kes.     "Hi!" grinned Paris, as he leaned closer to Torres and rested his hand on the far edge of her seat.     "Now put your right hand on her left waist--a little lower, Tom."     "Now B'Elanna," said Kes, amazed Lieutenant Torres hadn't yet slugged him, "put your right hand on his left arm and your left hand . . . hmmm, on his chest? No, on his right thigh. Better!" Kes stepped back and inspected her models.     "This isn't very comfortable," said Torres.     "I know, and I apologize," stated Kes. "However, it makes a lovely pose. Computer! Raise Lieutenant Paris' seat by seven-point-five centimeters and lower Lieutenant Torres' by the same amount."     "Whoa!" said the lieutenants, gripping one another as the computer complied to the request.     "Wonderful! Okay, Tom if you could lean closer and bring your head forward towards B'Elanna, and B'Elanna," said Kes, "if you could tilt your head back and look up to Tom."     That put the lieutenants at very close range. *This is not good,* thought Torres, as she looked straight into Paris' laughing blue eyes.     Tom, for his part, was absolutely enjoying it. *Torres,* he thought, *I hope you're ready to have some fun!*     "That should do it," claimed Kes, as she moved to her easel and picked up some utensils. "This is so exciting! I only hope I faithfully translate your figures to the clay! Computer, begin rotation of the platform at point-five centimeters per second."     "Hang on, B'Elanna, the ride's about to begin," teased Tom.     "Don't get any ideas, Paris," said B'Elanna as she closed her eyes.     "Me?" protested Tom innocently. "Just what kind of 'ideas' would I get with you in my arms wearing such a captivating Spring Moon dress?"     "I'm warning you," growled Torres.     "I'm going to make a few sketches first, to get a general outline of your figures," said Kes. "You know, B'Elanna, I may have a separate session with you so I can accurately sketch your profile. You really have beautiful features," complimented Kes.     "Yes, she does," agreed Tom, looking intently at Torres. B'Elanna's eyes popped open to see only the honesty in his eyes, but Paris couldn't let the tender moment last. "Make sure you include her beauty mark--it's under her right eye," he added with a grin. "Ouch!" he complained as Torres squeezed his arm.     "I've found my studies of humanoid art so enriching!" said Kes as she continued to sketch. "Did you know despite the differences in genetic evolution and civilization, the art of Klingon and human sculpture have evolved with striking similarities? The use of the body as a model for re-creating and representing mythical heroes and characters is prevalent in both cultures."     "Fascinating," remarked Tom, becoming very conscious of B'Elanna's hand on his thigh. *One hour? Kes, I could strangle you for this!* he thought. Torres shifted slightly, and Tom caught the lovely fragrance from her hair. *Mmmm.* "Say, B'Elanna," murmured Paris, "what perfume are you wearing?"     "Plasma coolant," she murmured back, refusing to be baited.     Paris smiled, "Just once, Torres, allow me to compliment you."     "Not a chance, Hotshot. Only when you've earned it."     Torres peeped open one eye. An hour of Paris' warm breath and musky scent so near was not going to remain just a minor distraction. *It'd be so easy to pull him down and nip him,* she thought dangerously. She exhaled and steeled her thoughts.     "Are you two doing okay?" asked Kes. She was concerned; fifteen minutes had not even passed, and she could already sense their restlessness, though she suspected it was not entirely due to boredom.     "Never better," quipped Tom.     The doors slid open and Harry entered. "Tom! B'Elanna?" said the amused ensign, taking in the situation.     "Don't you start, Starfleet," responded Torres, as Paris merely shrugged his shoulders.     Harry walked over to Kes and peeked at her sketching. "How's it going?" he inquired.     "Fine, at my end. I'm about to begin working on the clay," answered Kes, relieved that Ensign Kim had arrived. At least the lieutenants would watch their behavior with Harry present. "Though I'm wondering how long the lieutenants will hold out. Posing is not as simple as it seems."     "I'll say," chuckled Kim, looking at his friends on the platform. "Well, I've modified one of Neelix's ovens. I have a few more adjustments to make, but your kiln should be ready by tomorrow."     "Thank you, Harry, but you don't have to rush. It'll be at least a week before I'm finished."     "A week?!" called out B'Elanna.     "What's the matter, Torres?" asked Paris. "You have big plans or something?"     "Well, I certainly wouldn't want to spend a week next to you!" declared Torres.     "I've never gotten any complaints," winked Paris.     "Do you sculpt, Ensign?" asked Kes.     "Not since sixth grade when I took Mrs. M'Neth's Art Appreciation class."     "Did you learn much?"     "Only that I hated getting all that clay under my nails," said Harry. "Interferes with one's clarinet playing. So what will you call this?"     "Oh, it's too soon to know a name, Harry. When I'm done, I'll know! I've gotten my inspiration from Rodin's 'Le Baiser.'"     "Wasn't that done in marble?" asked Harry.     "Could I have glass of water, please?" asked Paris.     "I'll get it, Kes," offered Harry.     As he stepped to the platform and handed Tom the glass Harry asked, "So how are you two models doing?"     "Not bad," began Paris taking a drink, "It's not often I get to sit with a scantily clad chief engineer--umfh!"     "Paris!" said Torres as she poked him.     "Don't art models traditionally pose nude?" said Harry deciding to throw more gasoline into the fire.     "That's what Torres said! However, *I* was a little shy about that," said Tom as he firmly grasped B'Elanna's waist and repositioned himself.     Before Torres could fire off a retort, Tuvok's voice came over the comm. "All senior officers, please report to the captain's ready room."     "See you there," said Harry leaving.     "Sorry, Kes," said B'Elanna as she stood.     "I understand. Thank you both, again, for doing this," said Kes as she covered her clay. "When you have another free moment--"     "We'll be back," said Tom.Second session: Ink     B'Elanna wriggled stiffly back onto the stool. She didn't know how long they had been sitting there--it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes--yet it felt like hours. Exasperated with her inability to keep her derriere on the chair, she let out a frustrated sigh. She just couldn't seem to get back far enough without slipping off. It wasn't so much she was afraid of sliding off, she could easily step down and reposition herself without harm to the picture. Her problem was that Tom Paris sitting beside her. Because of the position Kes had placed them in, her slipping off would result in her face meeting his, her lips meeting his rather hard. Not that that would be so horrible. *No!* she thought. *Yes! Yes, it would be horrible, just plain horrible. He'd either get the wrong idea, thinking I had done it intentionally and might return the kiss, or would find it more gratifying to humiliate me and start laughing. Not to mention the fact that Kes is sitting not fifteen feet away with a sideline view of everything.*     Tom watched as B'Elanna shifted once again in her seat, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. That had to be the 10th time since they'd begun this second session less than half an hour ago. Was her stool that uncomfortable? Tom considered this for a moment. She did seem to be trying to edge away and they were sitting in fairly close proximity. He smiled at the thought his closeness making her uneasy. Was it possible her balking at his ever so subtle advances could be reversed? The possibility gave him a new energy. Just maybe . . . .     His attention was brought back to the holodeck and the woman beside him as she shifted her weight once more. Tom had yet to make any cute comments regarding her constant fidgeting, but the one that had just sprung to mind was just too good to pass up. "Bathroom break, B'Elanna?" he inquired. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kes look up at them and laugh silently. At least someone was amused.     B'Elanna resisted the urge to open her eyes and add a warning look to her comment. She knew she'd only be rendered speechless by the sight of his beautiful, crystal-blue eyes staring into hers. *Blue eyes, Torres. Not beautiful. Not crystal. Just blue. Intense blue--shut up, Torres.* "Shut up, Paris," she growled. "I'm about to fall off the stool."     "I'll catch you," he offered quietly.     *That's exactly what I don't want,* she thought. "How about if I just stay in my seat?"     "Hold tight and good luck, then."     She sighed, blowing warm air into his face at the exact moment he inhaled. Her sweet breath was inebriating and he became lightheaded. Forcing himself to take in a deep, calming breath, his vision began to clear. Smiling again, he turned his head slightly to look in Kes' direction. She had set down her drawing and covered her mouth with one hand in an effort to hold down the giggles. When she saw Tom looking at her, she picked up the sketch and began again. A smile still creased her features and Tom wondered if Kes hadn't intentionally chosen them as her models to get them alone in the same room together. After some of the stunts she'd pulled before, he wouldn't put it past her.     "B'Elanna?" Kes called out.     "Hmm?"     "I need you to tilt your head back just a little more."      She tried to oblige but only accomplished pushing herself further off the seat. Her grip on Tom's thigh tightened considerably as she tried to keep herself on the stool.     "Uh, B'Elanna?" His voice was slightly strained and he wore a surprised look.     "Sorry." She heard Tom clear his throat and felt the muscles in his leg tighten as he stood up. What was he doing? B'Elanna gasped and her eyes flew open when she felt his hand low on her waist slide up and grasp her around her middle, his left hand doing the same.     "Tom! What the hell are you doing?!"     "Calm down, B'Elanna. It's not what you think," Tom told her as he lifted her up and placed her back down on middle of the chair. He marveled at how light she was given her strength. He sat back down on his stool but did not immediately get back into position. "You seemed to be having trouble keeping your bottom on the chair." Looking down at her face he saw she was blushing profusely and kept her eyes averted from his. *Definitely more of a impact than she's let on,* he thought.     Smiling with forced gratitude, she risked a look up at his face and saw that, though his expression was one of amusement, he was not trying to embarrass her. "Thank you," she said.     "Anytime. He re-situated his hand on her hip and she responded by placing hers on his thigh. Her sight lingered on his grinning lips a moment longer before she closed her eyes again.     Kes, smiling at the display in front of her, tried to remain inconspicuous as the act played out before her. When she had asked them to pose for her she hadn't had some underlying objective, only an idea for a sculpture, envisioning Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres as the models. They looked good together and had a good chemistry as a pair, though she doubted they knew it. Well, maybe Tom thought something of it, but B'Elanna was dead set on keeping away from him. Kes saw no reason why these sessions couldn't result in a more intimate friendship forming, however. Of the many written compositions she had read on the subject of love from the many different cultures of the Alpha quadrant, one thing seemed to ring true--matchmaking was not an easy job. She wasn't playing matchmaker. If something just happened to come out of their working together, that didn't mean she had anything to do with it.     She glanced up to refresh her memory and see why they had become so quiet. Both sat silently in their proper places, B'Elanna with her eyes closed, Tom staring down at her. She turned back to the ink drawing and began to finish it up.     *Well, at least he didn't laugh,* B'Elanna thought as she recalled his grin. *Could have been worse, I don't know how, but it could have been worse.* She allowed herself to open her eyes just enough to see his expression but not enough for him to notice. He was staring down at her with an almost dreamy look. She was about to ask him what he was thinking when Kes spoke to them. Opening her eyes completely she saw Kes was standing in front of them.     "I think we're done for the night. I've finished the ink sketch and I should be starting to work the clay tomorrow or whenever you both have a free hour."     "The next session? Why don't we just start now?" Tom asked eagerly.     Kes smiled at him, but didn't fail to notice B'Elanna's pleading look. "I'm happy to see you're enjoying yourselves. I wasn't sure whether you'd want to continue, knowing how uncomfortable things could get." She hadn't meant to imply anything, merely that it was unpleasant sitting still for an hour, but both Tom and B'Elanna seemed to suspect otherwise.     B'Elanna jumped up from her seat and grabbed her uniform. "You're probably right. We should call it a night. I'm sure there's some problem down in Engineering that needs fixing." She hurried behind the changing screen and was out a moment later already dressed in normal Starfleet attire. As she made for the door Tom got up and took his turn. Walking past the table where Kes had been working, B'Elanna caught a glimpse of the sketch. She bent over to get a better look and started as the creator's hands came in and swooped it up. "What?" she asked.     "Neither of you can see anything until I'm done," said Kes.     B'Elanna gave Kes a genuine smile. "All right. Good night then, Kes." She met Tom, who appeared to be waiting at the door. After bidding Kes a hasty goodbye, he ran to catch up with B'Elanna at the turbolift. Both stood aside as a crewman came through the doors before entering themselves. Once inside, B'Elanna ordered the computer to take them to her deck.     "I thought you were going to Engineering."     "Uh, actually I don't think there's much to be done right now. It's been a slow week."     "Oh. Well, then maybe we could have dinner together in Sandrine's."     "Um . . . ." She couldn't think of anything to say and it wasn't because there was a lack of excuses. Tom had slowly been edging his way towards her and now stood so close she could feel his body heat. If she moved back a single inch she would find herself leaning against his chest. Just then the doors slid open. She rushed out and turned around to face him, her hand on the key pad. "I think I'll just turn in for the night. I guess I'll see you next session. G'night." The doors slid shut as she touched the button and cut him off as he was about to speak. B'Elanna began to walk to her quarters, not daring to look back.Session Three: Clay      "Tom, I appreciate you and B'Elanna giving up so much of your free time to pose for me," said Kes, misting the chunk of clay with which she hoped to create a work of art. "I know you have better things to do."     "Nah, don't sweat it. This is fun. Trust me, last session I enjoyed watching Torres wiggle around like she had T'perian sand critters in her shorts," he replied.     Kes frowned. "I know she was uncomfortable. Perhaps since this time I don't need you in the costumes she will be a bit more relaxed. But still I feel awkward. If she--if either of you--feel like this is something you really don't want to do--"     "Whoa, whoa, stop right there," Tom interrupted. "Believe me, Torres would never do something she really didn't really want to do. Wonder where she is, though? She's five minutes late already." He sat on the stool and pulled on the sweater he had brought. "You were right, Kes. It is cool in here."     "It's easier to work with the clay in a cool, damp environment; it doesn't dry out or set up as fast. That gives the artist a bit of an edge, and I need all the help I can get."     "Well, you're the expert. Can I take a peek at the sketches?"     Kes smiled. "Certainly not, Lieutenant. Not until I am satisfied with the project."     Tom stood up and turned on the charm. "Ah, c'mon, Kes, it's just me. Please? I won't tell anybody even if I look like a pile of poached potatoes. Besides--"     Tom stopped and caught his breath as the doors opened and B'Elanna strode through. "I'm sorry I'm late. Good evening, Lieutenant Potatoes. Shall we begin?" She casually took her place as Tom slowly sat back down. *All right, big guy. Let's see how you like it when the tables are turned.*     "B'Elanna, you look lovely tonight," he said sincerely. "I've never seen you wearing cashmere and suede."     "Kes said to dress warmly, didn't she? This is the warmest thing I've got, except for a down parka. Should I have worn that instead?" she asked sweetly. She climbed into position, pulling his arm around her waist and placing her hand in its accustomed spot on his thigh, squeezing gently. "Now, where were we?"     Tom sighed and closed his eyes, fingers tingling, the scent of "plasma coolant" wafting from her hair. "We were walking along the beach in T'peria."     "What?"     Kes stifled a giggle and bent to her work. Long minutes passed while B'Elanna sat perfectly still, staring straight ahead, and Tom fidgeted about, looking around the room, tapping the fingers of his free hand, wiggling a foot.     B'Elanna huffed a small, bored sigh, and scooting in closer, casually laid her head on his shoulder. "It's freezing in here. Feel my nose."     "Torres, I do NOT want to feel your nose."     "But it's freezing!"     "I'll take your word for it."     There was another long silence. Finally, B'Elanna huddled in even closer and slipped her free hand between his shirt and his sweater. "Do you mind? My hands are cold."     "Ah . . . no. So. How are things down in Engineering?"     "Fine."     There followed yet another long silent pause. Finally Paris tried to start another conversation.     "Did you get that problem with the nacelles all cleared up?"     "Yes."     He tried again. "What about that celebrium radiation leak?" Any problems there?"     "No."     More silence. Kes concentrated on her work, frowning slightly, while Torres sat perfectly still.     Finally Tom blurted out, "Is it hot in here? Or is it just me?"     Both women stared at him, perplexed. Finally Kes said, "Why don't we stop for awhile?" I think you could use a break, Tom."     "Good idea," said Tom, jumping up. "No, great idea," he corrected himself. "I'm going to go to Sandrine's to get some iced coffee before--"     "I'll go with you," offered B'Elanna.     "NO! I'll be right back . . . tomorrow." The doors shut behind him.     Kes stole a look at B'Elanna, glanced thoughtfully at the doors, and calmly picked up her sketchbook, flipping through the pages until she evidently found what she was looking for. Almost angrily, she ripped a sketch out, wadded it up, and tossed it into the corner. She grabbed up her charcoal drawing pencil and began making bold strokes on a clean piece of paper.     B'Elanna had never been so tempted to pick up a piece of litter in her life. She sat concentrating on how she might manage it without Kes noticing when Kes spoke, startling her our of her thoughts.     "B'Elanna, are you willing to continue this project?"     Slightly abashed brown eyes met blue ones. "Yes, Kes. I never run away from a challenge. If he comes back, I will too."     "Good. I have a new idea. Same time tomorrow?"     "Sure," said B'Elanna, giving up on litter retrieval and turning toward the door.     "Excellent," replied Kes. "But 'Lanna, next time no leather. Okay?"Session four: Colored Pencils     "Computer," Kes called, "What is the time?"     "The time is 1855."     "Thank you, computer." She hastily put the last touches on the new arrangements she had made and only just in time, for as she finished, the doors of the holodeck opened behind her. She turned to see Lieutenant Paris standing there, looking as free and easy as she had ever seen a human look, but her empathic ability clued her in to a ripple in his psyche. He was just a little bit nervous.     "Love what you've done with the place, Kes," he drawled.     "I thought we all needed to be a bit more comfortable," she replied. She had programmed new stools for her subjects' use, more comfortable ones with arm and back rests. There was also a fireplace, a coffee service, and enormous windows showing a simulation of the starfield moving past. "There's been a little change in plan." As she spoke, the door was activated again and Lieutenant Torres came in.     "A change in plans? Are we abandoning the project?" she asked.     "No, but we are . . . redefining the parameters," laughed Kes.     "How so?" B'Elanna asked.     "By redirecting the energy," Kes replied calmly, holding out a pair of sketch pads. "I've done a lot of thinking and a little research. I know before you left Starfleet, B'Elanna, you did extensive work designing new engines."     "Oh, that was just a stupid student project--"     Kes, very un-Kes-like, interrupted. "It was substantial, and you received a citation for it. And you, Tom," she said, "I know when you were younger you used to spend hours and hours drawing starships both real and imaginary."     "How do you know that?" he asked.     "It's true, isn't it?" she replied.     Tom paused. "Maybe." She held out a pad, but he made no move to take it.     "You two are both thinking too much," she explained. "Your minds are exploring strange new worlds while your hands are idle. Neither one of you is good at idle. So while I sketch you, you are going to sketch each other."     Tom was first. "This is ridiculous."     "'Ridiculous?' she snapped. "It's ludicrous!".     "Oh, I see," said Kes. "I didn't think either of you would back away from a challenge. Never mind, I'll get Ensigns Lamont--"     "Whoa, there, Tinkerbell," interrupted Tom. "A Paris does not 'back away from a challenge.' Gimme that." He snatched the pad away from her and settled into his place, patting the stool opposite. "Hop up here, Torres."     B'Elanna Torres could smell manipulation a mile away. She very slowly panned from Kes to Tom and back to Kes.     Kes silently held out the remaining pad. B'Elanna looked at it again, but still made no move to take it.     Kes raised her eyebrows.     Torres narrowed hers.     Tom interceded. "Take off, Torres; if it's past you, it's past you. Don't worry, I'll put my sketch up in the mess hall so you'll be sure to see it."     B'Elanna slowly took the pad from Kes. "I only just remembered," she said stiffly. "When I was six, I was crazy about horses. I drew them all the time, even from the back, so this should be easy."     Kes smiled. "Which medium do you prefer?"     "Colored pencils," they replied in unison.     Five minutes later they were both so engrossed in their work Kes wondered if they even remembered her presence. They sat, knees nearly touching, studying each other intently, B'Elanna making bold strokes while Tom made tiny etches. A few times, B'Elanna nosily ripped up her efforts and eventually Tom asked Kes for an eraser. For a while Kes studied her sketches, especially the last one she had made, but then she quietly uncovered her clay and set to work. This was more like it.     B'Elanna gazed at Tom's blue eyes intently. They were so blue, they were like Earth's sky on a clear day, or like clear crystal--*Whoa, wait a minute Torres,* she ordered herself. *He has plain blue eyes, nothing more nothing less. Don't get all worked up over them.* Sighing to herself, she started sketching Tom's eyes. She could decide on the color later.     Tom looked up as he heard B'Elanna sigh, just in time to see her go back to her sketching. *She's probably going to make me look like a sack of potatoes on purpose,* he thought to himself. He sketched for a little while longer, but the silence was becoming too much to bear. Clearing his throat, he asked with a grin," So, how are things going with Ensign Bristow?"     B'Elanna looked up, and glared at Tom. This was the same thing he had teased her about in the shuttle. "Nothing is going on."     "Come on, you can't tell me nothing happened between you and Freddie. The guy's obviously head over heels in love with you," Tom persisted. Rumors were flying all over the ship about the chief engineer and the young ensign from Astrophysics, and he wanted to know the truth.     "Freddie is nothing more than a lovesick puppy," snapped B'Elanna angrily, throwing down her pencil. "He is of no consequence to me."     "That's not what I heard from--" Tom stopped himself, realizing his error, but it was too late. B'Elanna was already up and out of her seat, grabbing him by the neck of his turtleneck.     "What did you hear?" she growled, her grip tightening on Tom's neck.     Kes slipped herself in between B'Elanna and Tom, an extremely precarious position, and managed to pry B'Elanna's hands off of him. Apparently the young Ocampan was stronger than she let on.     "What did you hear?" demanded B'Elanna again, glaring at Tom angrily. "And who did you hear it from?" She looked as if she were going to lunge at Tom again, but Kes was still standing in the way.     Rubbing his now sore neck, he put on a bright smile and said, "Nothing. Nobody told me anything, I was just making everything up."     "Oh, no, you're not going to try that innocent routine with me," B'Elanna said with a look that could have speared titanium. "You're going to tell me who's spreading rumors about me and Bristow even if I have to--" She was interrupted by the hiss of the holodeck doors.     Ensign Bristow walked in, stopping two feet in front of B'Elanna and Tom, obviously startled by the scene in front of him.     "What do you want, Ensign?" she barked, and an Earth phrase echoed through her head, *Speak of the devil and he shall appear.*     A slight flush came over Bristow's face. "Well, I was in Engineering," he stammered, "and I, uh, I--"     "Spit it out, Ensign," ordered B'Elanna, crossing her arms.     "Well, Lieutenant Carey was trying to reach you, but you didn't answer your pages, so he asked me to come down and get you," finished Bristow, still stuttering. He looked down at his shoes, studying them intently.     Tom was amused and couldn't help adding to the young ensign's obvious embarrassment by asking ,"What were you doing in Engineering anyway, Ensign? Shouldn't you be in Astrophysics?" He plopped down on his stool and crossed his arms expectantly.     *Oh, no, what am I going to say now?* thought Freddie frantically. *I wanted to see if Lieutenant Torres were there? I don't think so!* He blurted out, "Uh, I was just passing through."     Before Tom could come in with another smart remark, B'Elanna cut in and scowled, "I don't care why he was down there, the point is I'm going down to Engineering. I'll be back in an hour, and you'd better be here, Paris! I'm not finished with you." Turning on her heel she was almost out the door when Kes called out behind her.     "Yes?" asked B'Elanna slightly impatient. When it came to Engineering, anything else was a distraction.     "I think we'll give up on the sketching each other idea; we'll try a new pose when you get back."     Nodding her approval, and shooting another look at Paris, she walked out the door with a still flustered Freddie Bristow following her.Session 5--Back to the Drawing Board     The holodeck door hissed open and B'Elanna Torres strode in, the scent of "plasma coolant" clinging to her. "Where is he?" she demanded, turning to Kes, hardly noticing the change in the holodeck scenery.     Kes only smiled in response and said," He's changing." She nodded toward the screen set up in back of B'Elanna. "He'll be out in a minute. After he's done, you can change. Until then, have a seat. What do you think of this scene?" she asked, a smile on her angelic face.     Taking a seat on the floor--there were no chairs--B'Elanna looked around, slightly startled at her new surroundings. She was sitting on a beach, covered with the smoothest sand, with a wide expanse of blue ocean in front of her. The sky was almost the same shade, with a few puffy clouds. "Where are we?" she asked.     "This is T'peria," Kes informed her. "Tom helped me pick it out, and here he is."     Tom emerged from behind the screen and came to stand in front of B'Elanna and Kes. "How do I look?" he asked, striking the pose of a weight lifter.     B'Elanna had to admit he looked drop-dead gorgeous. He was clad only in a pair of sky blue shorts, leaving his entire chest bare. Not that she would tell him, of course, but it did make her forget all about the way he had teased her about Freddie Bristow, for the time being at least. Shaking her head to brush out all thoughts of Tom Paris, she asked Kes briskly, "Where are my clothes?"     "Behind the screen."     "All right, I'll be right back." She headed toward the screen, emerging a couple of minutes later.     It took all of Tom's will power not to whistle in astonishment. B'Elanna was wearing a bathing suit, which wouldn't be so surprising, but it was the design of the suit that made it so amazing. It was one piece with a diamond shaped cutout at the stomach, revealing the brown skin underneath, and practically no back to speak of. It was the same shade of blue as his shorts.     B'Elanna scowled at Kes, "Is this it? You're making me wear this?"     "Of course that's not all of it," she answered smoothly. Kes handed B'Elanna a piece of gauzy, see-through, same shade-of-blue material. "You wrap it around your waist," she added helpfully.     B'Elanna looked in disgust as the flimsy material, and then obediently tied it around her waist. The gauzy material clung to her hips, and flowed down to mid-thigh. "And what's the point of this?" she asked. "It's translucent!"     "I just thought it would be more of a challenge to sculpt," replied Kes. "I was studying the sculptures done by the ancient Greeks on Earth, and it seemed that--"     "All right, all right," sighed B'Elanna, exasperated. She had no particular desire to hear about the ancient Greeks and their sculptures. She looked around at the sandy beach, and a confused look crossed her face. "Where are we supposed to sit?"     "Computer, install wall," ordered Kes. Obediently, a small wall appeared on the sand.     "You want us to sit on the wall?" Tom managed to pry his eyes away from B'Elanna, probably the hardest thing he had ever done, and look at Kes.     "Of course not," laughed Kes, her blue eyes glowing. Taking Tom and B'Elanna by the hand, she led them over to the wall, and posed them so that they were leaning against the wall and the ocean was in the background. Kes stood back and examined them critically. "B'Elanna, lean your head against Tom's shoulder, and Tom, put your left hand around her waist and rest it against her stomach." Tom and B'Elanna complied, trying not to show how much they were enjoying this. "B'Elanna, wrap your arms around Tom's waist."     Tom sighed, trying not to show it, of course, as he felt B'Elanna's arms go around his waist. He liked this pose. His hand was resting on B'Elanna's stomach--her bare skin, no less--and her face was against his shoulder, and her arms were around his waist. Her legs were tucked under her, and now that Tom thought about it, they were posed an awful lot like a young couple in love. Not that he minded of course. He could get really used to this.     *Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in . . . .* B'Elanna mentally chanted the mantra over and over. It was not something she usually thought about, granted, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her breathing even in this position. Especially with Tom's hand where it was. Not to mention where hers was.     "So, hasn't the vacuum been nice lately?" he asked.     She blinked. "What?"     "The customary ice-breaker on Earth is to make some inconsequential comment about the weather. Since there's no weather in space, I went with the closest thing we have. I don't know about you, but I need to do something to take my mind off the pain in my lower back." *Though that's not the only thing I need a distraction from right now,* Tom thought. *I wonder if there will ever come a day when I don't need to hide that from her.* "Well?"     "Well, what?"     "How has the vacuum been?"     Torres rolled her eyes; Tom could be so corny sometimes. "Can't you think of a better way to start a conversation, Tom?"     "Sorry, I'm having a hard time thinking in such beautiful company."     "We could ask Kes to leave."     "So you want to be alone with me?" His eyes twinkled. "And you know I wasn't talking about Kes."     B'Elanna blushed. She looked into those mesmerizing eyes of his and nearly lost herself in their depths before she managed a reply. "Thank you, Tom, though I don't know that I agree with you."     "Why are you so hard on yourself?" Tom asked. He could never understand her reluctance in accepting compliments. Of course she was pretty. Hadn't he told her that enough times?     She started to give him a smart reply, then bit it back. She knew Tom was probably being serious. She just had to wonder at his taste. There was just one thing she was afraid he wouldn't find attractive--the bumps on her forehead. Her father had left her for them, and she didn't want to lose another person she cared about over them. She thought back to their encounter with the Vidiians. Tom had been so supportive when she had been separated from her Klingon genes. She had to wonder, would he have rather she stayed human?     B'Elanna had to know. She knew she was attracted to him, even cared for him. She also knew he was attracted to her; these long sessions in rather provocative positions proved that. But did he care for her? Would he accept her for who she was, Klingon and all?     Tom waited for her response. He knew she was troubled by something, he could tell by the wrinkle in her forehead she always got when she was trying to determine the answer to a problem. She had such a beautiful profile. There was something in her Klingon-ness that made her different.  *Well, of course she's different,* he thought. *She's special.* He knew she didn't always welcome her Klingon half. He remembered how she had talked about the way her father had treated her because of it. He had always seen it as just another part of that wonderful picture that made her B'Elanna. He just wished he knew how to tell her that.     Kes smiled to herself, enjoying the scene playing out before her. They had no idea how picturesque they looked, staring into each other's eyes like that. She knew it would be hard for them. The were so much alike, each with their comfortable little walls set up around their hearts. She only hoped time would be the chisel to chip those walls away.Session 6--More Clay, Lots More Clay, and Oils     "Hi, Kes! Kes? Kes?" B'Elanna strode into the holodeck studio program, her enthusiastic greeting waning to a cautious curiosity when there was no immediate answer to her call. The cool, airy room with the north-facing windows was silent. The stools that B'Elanna and Tom had posed on were in their places, and the screen behind which they had changed into the outfits Kes had provided for their posing was in its usual place. The table with its covered lump of clay and assorted tools awaited the hand of the artist in the center of the room. Only the young Ocampa woman was missing.     The engineer paced for several seconds before slumping on to one of the stools in the studio. It was surprising that Kes would be late, as she always had been waiting for them in the prior sessions. Stifling a sigh, B'Elanna sat up straighter and moved her hand to tap her combadge, hesitating only when she heard the holodeck doors swish open. "Oh, it's you, Paris," she said.     "Nice to see you, too, Lieutenant Torres," he replied in a voice dripping with sarcastic good humor. "So, where's our Pygmalion?"     "Where's our what?"     "Pygmalion. A figure in Greek mythology--the sculptor who created a statue of the perfect woman. The gods took pity on him and brought her to life." He was about to add as smooth a line as he could about the perfect woman standing in front of him, but her expression suggested that such a compliment was not likely to go over well at the moment. B'Elanna looked a little like a targ that wanted to chew on someone's leg, and Tom was too fond of his legs to want to risk losing one. Occasionally he managed to remember not to "open mouth and insert foot," this seemed like a good thing to remember now. Since discretion is the better part of valor, he remained silent.     "Kes isn't here yet. I was just about to check the computer to find out what is keeping her."     Tom held up his hand in a halting gesture. "Wait a minute, maybe we should give her a little more time. She may be tied up with the holodoc on an emergency. We wouldn't want to tear her away from her regular duties, now, would we?"     His air of studied nonchalance as he wandered towards the worktable tipped B'Elanna off to his ulterior motive. As he picked up the corner of the cloth covering the clay, B'Elanna warned him, "Hey, don't do that, Paris. Kes doesn't want us to see it until it's done."     "Just a little peek, Torres. How can it hurt?"     B'Elanna made a show of slapping at his hand as he lifted the cover, but she barely grazed his pinkie finger. She had to admit she wanted to see the grand project herself. As his expression slid from a smile of anticipation to a quizzical frown, she grabbed the other side of the cloth and lifted it high, flipping it completely off of the lump of clay.     And a lump of clay it was. If this particular hunk of clay had been molded at all, the artist had obliterated the evidence.     "Paris, this CAN'T be it. She must have the real sculpture hidden away so that if we came in early and peeked we wouldn't see anything."     "Well, where is it then? This amount of clay is pretty heavy. You might be able to lift it and I probably could too, but Kes? She doesn't have that kind of strength."     "She's been experimenting with telekinesis, hasn't she?"     "I don't think Kes is far enough along with that to move anything of this weight." The pilot analyzed the studio, trying to see where a sculpture could be hidden. "What about behind the screen? Did you look there?"     An inspection of the area behind the screen and under the table failed to reveal anything remotely like a sculpture and there was no other place in the room large enough to conceal Kes' work. They found a few pencil sketches, but they were of Janine Lamont and Ethan Simms.      "Nice pose," mentioned Tom, pointing at one sketch. Ethan's head lay on Janine's chest, her chin resting upon the top of his head, her far hand tenderly cradling the back of his head while her near hand rested softly on his shoulder. A ghost of a smile was captured on both faces.     B'Elanna snorted, "Don't get any ideas, Flyboy," as she peered at the sketch pad. His eyes laughed back at her, adding to her discomfort, increasing her need to move.     "Tom, I don't know how much more of this posing I can tolerate. If this is only as far as she's gotten since we've been coming here, it'll take her YEARS to finish." B'Elanna's quickened pace took her back to the worktable as her voice escalated in volume and pitch. "I just can't take much more of this." She circuited the room again. "I WON'T take more of this!" Her last vestige of self-control snapped. With a wicked swing of her hand, B'Elanna slammed down upon the lump of clay, severing it into two smaller lumps.     "B'Elanna, that was Kes' pride and joy! How could you?"     "We can put it back together easily enough, with as much detail as she's put into it!" B'Elanna swiped a glob of clay and flung it onto the deck in Tom's general direction.     "Torres, does this qualify as the throwing of heavy objects? Because if it does . . . ."     Tom's smirk prompted B'Elanna to yank another hunk of clay from the pile on the table and fling it at him. It was a lucky shot. He hadn't expected her to do it and had not bothered to duck. The clay landed squarely on his chest. He pulled some of it off and raised his arm as if to toss it back at her, but she gestured for him to stop.     "Paris, this isn't ordinary holodeck matter. Kes replicated this special clay so that she could fire it into permanent shape, remember? We're going to have to clean everything up from the holodeck ourselves if we throw it around.     "It's a little late to think of that now, Torres, don't you think?" He grunted and threw it anyway. B'Elanna managed to get her hand out to stop it from smashing into her face, splattering the doughy material in every direction.     Afraid that some of it may have gotten into her eyes, Tom was immediately contrite. "Are you okay, B'Elanna?"     She answered him with a feral gleam in her eye and a distinct growl in her throat. *Uh-oh,* he thought fleetingly, before reconsidering his approach. Sympathy might not be the way to go at the moment. Instead, he answered her growl for growl, grabbing a fistful of clay in each hand as she did the same. Dodging and ducking, they circled the worktable for a couple of moments. Finally, B'Elanna zigged when Tom zagged.     Helmsman and chief engineer landed in a heap on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs, B'Elanna on top, and proceeded to smear each other's faces and bodies with clay. The growling became louder and was mixed with ragged panting and an occasional giggle from Tom. To both of them, the cool north light of the studio suddenly seemed to assume the uncompromising brightness and heat of a tropical beach.     That was the moment that Harry Kim entered the holodeck.     A great part of Harry's success as an Operations officer was due to his ability to size up a situation rapidly. Seeing the destroyed clay, his friend's faces and the state of their mud-smeared clothes in a split second, he beat a hasty retreat out of the holodeck, doubting they had even been aware of his entrance. And had he heard growling from someplace?     As he backed into the corridor, Harry bumped into Ensign Freddie Bristow. "Harry, what's going on in there? Are Paris and Lieutenant Torres posing for Kes again? What's up? Do you think they'd mind if I went in and watched?"     "Bristow, only a fool would go in there now and watch. Kes isn't there and Tom and B'Elanna have managed to wreck the studio. I'm getting as far away from this holodeck and forgetting as much as I can about what I saw in there. You might want to do the same."     One look at Harry's determined face decided Freddie's course of action. "Interested in a game of pool at Sandrine's?" he asked.     "Maybe later, Freddie. I need to find Kes and let her know what's happened."     The ensigns nodded good-bye to one another. Freddie entered Holodeck 1, where the Sandrine's program was running and Harry walked down the hall to search for Kes. *What could possibly have possessed Tom and B'Elanna to wreck Kes' sculpture like that?* he pondered.     He found Kes leaving the turbolift as he turned the corner to enter it.     "Kes, am I glad I ran into you." Harry stopped a moment and gulped. He hadn't had a chance to figure out how to give Kes such bad news. "It's about your sculpture. It's ruined."     "Oh, no, Harry, it's fine. I was just looking at it before I came up."     Harry took a deep breath. "No, Kes. I went into Holodeck 3 to see how your last session was going. Tom and B'Elanna were there, smearing clay all over each other. The sculpture on the table was just a scooped out pile of clay. I'm really sorry. I can't imagine what--"     "Oh Harry, that's wonderful news! Finally! I was wondering how long they could hold out."     "Kes, your sculpture!"     "Harry, it's fine. Come on, I'll show it to you." Kes took him by the hand and pulled him back into the turbolift. Fortunately, no one had called for it while they had been talking, and they were able to return quickly to Deck 8, where Kes' quarters were.     "I don't understand. Wasn't that your sculpture on the work table?"     "No, I just put that clay there. I was hoping that if I got there late that B'Elanna and Tom would start molding the clay themselves. They had such a good time with those colored pencils, and working in clay is so sensual. The feel of it in your hands as you mold it--it's just wonderful. You really should try it again, Harry. Just wash your hands and nails thoroughly before picking up your clarinet to practice."     Harry laughed. "You remembered my story! Well, I don't seem to have any particular aptitude for the visual arts. Music is my muse."     They reached Kes' door and entered. Kes called up the lights, and Harry's attention was immediately drawn to the low table in front of the couch. A sizable sculpture was sitting there. The pose was basically the same one he had seen on his visit to the holodeck to tell Kes that her kiln would be ready, although instead of sitting on stools, the couple was seated with their legs entwined in one another's. The figures were about three-quarters life size, but Kes had managed to capture the essence of Tom and B'Elanna perfectly. Somehow, she had captured B'Elanna's boldness and intelligence without stinting on her exotic beauty. Vulnerability and strength were both visible in Tom's image. The love shining from their faces as Tom's lips barely grazed those of the sculpted B'Elanna made Harry feel a little like a voyeur. The drape of the sheer dress on B'Elanna, the textured suggestion of the hair on Tom's chest revealed in the open neckline of his shirt--all the details were so fully realized that Harry was at a loss for words for several minutes. The statue was a soft, alabaster white, yet Harry could almost imagine the figures breathing and that the surfaces would be warm to the touch.     Finally Harry's gaze left the sculpture and moved to Kes. Her guileless eyes shone back at him. "It came out rather well, don't you think?"     "You have an incredible talent, Kes. It's gorgeous. Although I have a feeling that when they see it, Tom and B'Elanna are both going to feel they revealed too much of their souls to you while posing for it."     "I intend to keep it here for my own enjoyment. I wouldn't be able to part with this. I didn't mind giving Janine and Ethan almost all of the pencil sketches and watercolors, though; and I might give Tom and B'Elanna most of the sketches I did of them, as well. Some of them came out very well." She walked over to a thick portfolio and opened it up for Harry's inspection.     "This one is beautiful, Kes," Harry told her, lifting a study of Tom and B'Elanna in their beach pose.     "Take it, Harry. There are plenty here for Tom and B'Elanna."     "Thanks, Kes," he said gratefully, adding, "I don't understand, though. When did you finish the sculpture? Why didn't you say anything about it to anyone?"     "Harry, they were having so much fun posing I just didn't have the heart to tell them. I also wasn't sure how well the sculpture would fire in the kiln. I might have had to start over. You never know, working for the first time in a new medium. Getting it to the kiln was tricky too; it was really heavy while it was still wet. Mikel Hudson and Ethan Simms helped me get it onto a wheeled cart and into the kiln last week. Now that it has been fired, even I can move it around on the table, even though I still can't lift it."     "May I touch it?"     "Of course. The feel of Anterian clay after it is fired is one of its most noteworthy characteristics."     Harry leaned over the table and stroked the statue, thinking how beautiful it was, unaware of Kes' heightening interest in him.     "Harry, you wouldn't consider posing for me, would you?"     The ensign looked up suddenly. "Who would I have to pose with?" he asked, an undertone of worry in his voice.     "Well, me, I guess, in a way. Let me explain." Kes picked up a second portfolio and pulled out several sketches as well as a reproduction of what seemed to be an ancient painting. "In my art history studies I found that self-portraits are very popular with artists. I wanted to work in oils next, and I found this picture. It's from Holland during the Renaissance; it must be 800 years old, at least. Do you see, behind the couple holding hands there is a small mirror. Can you see the painter in the mirror?"     Looking closely, Harry saw the small figure that she was pointing out to him.     "That's amazing!" he said.     "Isn't it? Some art historians have suggested that the painting is a kind of marriage certificate for the couple with the painter in it to act as a witness! Whether that is true or not, I just thought it would be nice to try my hand at something similar. I've been working on sketches of myself with the help of that mirror over there, but I couldn't decide what else should be in the painting. I've tried bowls of fruit, an empty chair, even the sculpture of Tom and B'Elanna. Nothing seemed right, but I was just thinking--"     Kes stepped into her sleeping area and emerged almost immediately with the poet's shirt that Tom had worn for the sculpture. "Harry, can you try this on? I'd like to try a charcoal sketch or two with you in the foreground of the picture."     "Uh, I'll go into your bedroom area to change, if that's okay with you."     Kes nodded assent and moved a chair in front of the good-sized mirror that she had hung on one wall of her quarters. When she turned around, she could see Harry lifting up the shirt to pull it over his head, the muscles of his back rippling as he drew it on. The artist in Kes fully appreciated the definition of those muscles, wondering if he would consent to posing for a pose or two without his shirt. That was a question best left for later, she decided.     When Harry returned to the living area Kes motioned him over to the chair. Settling him into it carefully, she checked both their positions several times, making sure her reflection would be visible in the glass while she sketched. She pulled the neckties free to leave the neckline of the poet's shirt open and patted the folds of the cloth to make it hang to suit her. Satisfied, Kes picked up a large spoon and placed it handle side up in his hands. "Hold it like it's your clarinet, Harry. I don't have enough replicator credits to create a new one for you now. Can you bring your own if we decide to proceed with the oil painting project?"     Harry wiggled his hands on the spoon as if he were actually playing it. "Sure. Do you think I can actually practice my clarinet while you are sketching?"     "I don't see why not, Harry, it would make for a much more natural pose. I might have to ask you to stop when I do a study of your hands, but for the rest I don't see that staying completely still is critical. Let me make a quick sketch now. You can come back with your clarinet tomorrow--maybe bring your music stand and some music too. We might as well work in my quarters, since painting isn't as messy as working in clay."     "I never feel like I get enough practice time, and I've a new piece I've been wanting to work on. This painting may work out great for both of us."     Kes asked him if he were comfortable, and he assured her that he was. Sitting down, Kes selected a stick of charcoal and began to sketch with quick, clear, strong strokes. As she drew, Kes' thoughts turned to the last session with Ethan and Janine. Kes had come late to the holodeck to find Simms and Lamont painting with the watercolors. Painting each other that is, dribbling globs of paint from the brushes all over their faces and down their necks while giggling like small children. It was clear that posing for any more artwork had been the last thing on their minds. Kes had tiptoed quietly out the door to leave them to their own amusements.       Tom and B'Elanna had been excellent subjects, too. She idly wondered what they were doing now, and if they had found the sketches of Janine and Ethan that she had left for them to find. Kes smiled secretly. If Harry had seen what she thought he had seen, they would not care that she had never made her expected appearance at the studio. Hopefully, they were enjoying themselves!        Harry's form gradually took shape on the paper, and Kes began to get excited. This design was just what she had been looking for. Harry had such nice eyes and bone structure. His strong shoulders balanced her image in the mirror in the background for a very pleasing composition. This painting might even surpass her previous endeavors!     Kes loved the idea of working with oil paints. It permitted such interesting effects, and there was something quite wonderful about the scent of the linseed oil. Intoxicating. Sensuous, even. Kes was really looking forward to painting Harry.Finis