Title: Pool Games Author: Julie Evans (Juli17@aol.com) Series: VOY Rating: PG13 Codes: P/T, D Summary: Tom and B'Elanna spend an evening in Sandrine's. Set several days after the events in "Someone to Watch Over Me". Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters are the property of Viacom/Paramount. I am only borrowing them for fun, not profit. Notes: This story contains spoilers for the episode "Someone to Watch Over Me", and a brief reference to an event in the episode "Relativity." Rated PG13 for sexual innuendo and sexual situations. "Pool Games" by Julie Evans "I still miss my pool table." Harry looked at Tom, who was sitting across the table from him nursing a gin and tonic. "Tom, you haven't been in Sandrine's in months. Besides you can always add the pool table back in again." "The doctor seems to have taken over the program." Harry followed Tom's gaze to the piano, the one that had replaced the lamented pool table. The doctor's fingers were gliding over the keys as he played a slow melody. "Yeah, he seems to have developed a fondness for this place all of a sudden. He's run this program every night for the past week. He thinks he a virtuoso. Or maybe a lounge singer." "I played some really great games on that pool table," Tom said, reminiscing dolefully, as he took another drink of his gin and tonic. Harry looked at B'Elanna, who was sitting next to Tom, sipping a glass of merlot. She shrugged, and Tom caught the exchange. "Hey, that pool table was pretty popular for awhile," he pointed out. "The captain played a few games, and even Tuvok finally capitulated." He sighed, and swirled the clear liquid in his glass. "I guess I'm just missing my days as the resident pool shark." B'Elanna rolled her eyes and Harry snorted. "Pool shark, Tom?" Harry asked. "Aren't you exaggerating a little? The captain beat you, more than once as I recall. Tuvok beat you. Joe Carey beat you. In fact, didn't Naomi beat you once?" B'Elanna let out a small sound, then covered by clearing her throat. She sipped her wine as Tom looked at her, then back at Harry. "Ha, ha, very funny." Tom glared at Harry briefly, then smirked. "But I do seem to remember winning an awful lot of replicator rations off you, Harry. I think that saved me from Neelix's purple paste period." "I was a naive, green ensign and you took advantage of me," Harry said with mock accusation. It was Tom's turn to snort. "Besides—" Harry paused in mid-sentence, his attention diverted. Tom followed Harry's gaze toward the door, where Jenny Delaney was just walking in. Harry stood up. "I gotta go, guys." He glanced at Tom again as he pushed his chair back. "Let me know when you get that pool table back, buddy. We'll play a game or two, and it may be that I'm no longer the easy mark I used to be." Tom shook his head, a small smile on his face. "We'll see, Harry." He watched Harry stride toward the bar where Jenny was just taking a seat, pondering for a moment his friend's love life, or usual lack thereof. Maybe Harry's luck in that regard was about to change. "I really miss that pool table too." Tom turned at B'Elanna's wistful comment and looked at her. She was staring at the piano, her expression distant, as if her mind was somewhere else. "You were getting pretty good, B'Elanna, but I still beat you most of the time," he reminded her a little smugly. Then he immediately wondered if he would regret that comment, since B'Elanna didn't like to lose or to be reminded of the fact. B'Elanna looked at him without rancor, and she shook her head, her dark eyes on him intense and expressive. "Those aren't the kind of games I miss, Tom," she said in a soft throaty voice. Their gazes held for several moments as her meaning registered. "Oh," Tom finally murmured weakly. How could that have slipped his mind, even briefly? His mouth went dry as he remembered the few times they'd used the pool table for something other than…pool. And his body certainly hadn't forgotten those "games," because he felt suddenly very warm in his long sleeved cotton shirt, and a little too…confined elsewhere. He shifted slightly and his eyes traveled down the short length of B'Elanna's figure hugging emerald dress to her bare legs, and back up again. Her eyes on him smoldered. He licked his dry lips. "Damn, now I really want that pool table back." B'Elanna's smoldering gaze suddenly smoldered with a different emotion as she caught a movement across the room. Tom didn't have to turn around to know who had just walked into Sandrine's. "What's she doing here?" Tom turned around anyway as B'Elanna spoke with annoyance, and he watched Seven walk into the room, still dressed in one of her "uniforms", such as it was. She moved toward the tables on the other side of the piano, toward the table where the captain and Chakotay were seated. "I guess she decided she needs some more practice on her socialization skills." "Why bother? I thought she decided that no male on Voyager is worthy of her gloriously superior self," B'Elanna said sarcastically. Tom smothered a laugh, and shook his head. "B'Elanna…" "What?" Her sharp question was belligerent, but Tom as usual was not particularly intimidated. "I know she's rude and tactless sometimes—" "Sometimes?" B'Elanna muttered darkly. "But she just doesn't know any better. And at least she did apologize for…invading our privacy." "Yeah, some apology." Well, it hadn't been the most humble apology, considering that Seven had expressed regret over B'Elanna's unreasonable objection to a mere research project rather than for her own actions, but it had been typical Seven. "Well, at least she seems to have improved a little since the doctor began tutoring her." "That's a matter of opinion." Tom sighed. "I know she could try harder to get along. But don't you ever think that the way she so often isolates herself must make her pretty lonely?" B'Elanna gave Tom a sharp look. "No. I just assume she likes being alone." "Maybe she wasn't spying on us only out of "scientific curiosity." Maybe some human part of her she doesn't completely understand yet wants to experience what intimacy with another person is like, even if it's only vicariously." B'Elanna looked at Seven, who hadn't seated herself at the captain and Chakotay's table, but had handed Janeway a datapadd and was standing erect and motionless as the captain studied it. B'Elanna frowned and looked at Tom. "Honestly, Tom, if Seven wants to connect with other people then don't you think she ought to act like it sometimes?" Tom smiled. "The way you acted like it when I first tried to connect with you?" B'Elanna glared at Tom. That analogy might be true—a little—but she didn't appreciate it. But before she could tell him so he threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand lightly. "Relax, B'Elanna. That whole incident's blown over now anyway." B'Elanna jerked her hand away, not particularly mollified, but she stayed where she was. She glanced across the room again, her expression pensive. "Do you think everyone can really…hear us?" Tom knew B'Elanna had been stewing about Seven's comment for days. She hated being the center of that kind of attention. He'd felt a little annoyed himself at first. "You know how gossip exaggerates everything that happens on this ship. I think Seven was mostly repeating what she'd heard. And I suppose if someone stands at our door and listens, then they can probably hear us." Whether certain crewmembers could really hear their activities through the adjoining walls, Tom didn't know. But what could he do about that anyway, other than post a complaint to Starfleet to build starships with fully soundproofed walls so that sexual relationships between crewmembers would remain completely private? Sure, then no one would have ever figured out what was between B'Elanna and him. He shrugged philosophically. "And if they've got nothing better to do with their time, B'Elanna, that's not our problem. At least Seven won't be doing it anymore, since she's decided to forgo intimate relationships for the time being." "Which is good, because now I don't have to kill her." Tom wasn't sure if B'Elanna was completely kidding. The music changed tempo as the doctor started to play a mournful tune, one with lyrics this time, a song about unrequited love. B'Elanna's attention was diverted from Seven, and she looked at the doctor. "The doctor really seems to have taken up a second career as a lounge singer. " It was part of the reason Sandrine's was suddenly enjoying a renewed popularity. The doctor had been here almost every evening for the past week, entertaining the growing crowd playing endless musical selections from the computer's database, most of them songs from Earth. But Tom was sure there was something deeper to it, especially since all the doctor played and sang were love songs, often of the unrequited variety. "He does have a pretty good voice," Tom said. "But I can think of one addition that would really improve his act." B'Elanna looked at Tom's contemplative expression. "What?" "A partner." "A partner?" B'Elanna echoed. Then her eyes narrowed. "Who?" She'd hurt him if he said Seven. "You," Tom told her, and a definite gleam of mischief now danced in his eyes as she stared back at him with disbelief. "I'm picturing you stretched out on top of the piano, in a slinky dress, looking gorgeous, and singing one of those great torch songs from the twentieth century, like maybe—" "Ha!" B'Elanna uttered a sharp laugh, having finally recovered her voice. The man was weak in the brain if he really thought for one minute… "You know when that's going to happen, don't you, Tom?" "Right now?" he asked, eyes widening with anticipation. "About the time all the galaxies contract and the universe collapses in on itself. Or maybe in a couple dozen billion years." Tom frowned. "I have to wait that long? Damn." B'Elanna couldn't help smiling at Tom's exaggerated expression of disappointment. Then her smile slowly faded. "Great. Look who's coming." Tom turned to see Seven striding in their direction. "You're not leaving already, are you, Seven?" he asked as she approached. He was rewarded by a sharp kick in the shin from B'Elanna. "I am," Seven replied simply. "I just—" She paused and looked at Tom's scrunched up face curiously. "Are you ill?" "No, I'm fine." Tom wriggled his leg a little under the table. "I just stopped by to drop off some reports for Captain Janeway and Ensign Kim," Seven finished. "Oh, okay. I thought maybe you came here for the ambience." Tom moved his leg out of B'Elanna's easy line of attack as he spoke. Seven raised an eyebrow. "The ambience here is aesthetically…pleasing. However I have found that spending time here is not particularly productive." Tom shrugged. "You don't always have to be productive, Seven. But suit yourself." "I shall," Seven replied, looking perplexed that Tom would suggest she do anything other than suit herself. "Goodnight, Ensign, Lieutenant." "Goodnight, Seven," Tom returned, and B'Elanna managed to utter a politely neutral goodnight also as she watched Seven stride toward the bar where Harry Kim and Jenny Delaney were deep in conversation. With Seven gone Tom reached down to rub his shin, and he gave B'Elanna an annoyed look. "I was only being polite, B'Elanna," he groused, saying the word "polite" slowly, as if the meaning was something foreign to her. B'Elanna raised her eyebrows and gave him a guileless look in return. "Sorry. I didn’t realize that was your leg." Tom snorted, and the doctor chose that moment to finish playing his current selection with a loud flourish, and then immediately moved into the next song. "Well, at least the doctor found a more "productive" hobby than trying to find Seven a date," B'Elanna said dryly as she watched the doctor's hands fly across the piano keys. Tom shrugged, still feeling a little argumentative. "I don't know. The doctor gave it his best effort, even if he wasn't completely successful in the end." He stared at the doctor thoughtfully for a moment. He hadn't told B'Elanna about the doctor's burgeoning feelings for Seven, not because he was trying to hide anything from her, but because the doctor hadn't exactly volunteered the information in the first place. Tom had just guessed the truth, and it didn't seem right to say anything, especially since it was now obvious the doctor hadn't told Seven of his feelings. Or worse, maybe the doctor had told her, and Seven had shot him down. The subject certainly hadn't come up in sickbay this week, and Tom wasn’t about to ask. He felt guilty enough as it was for his own thoughtless part in making that bet with the doctor in the first place. And maybe the doctor had already realized that he'd just gotten a little carried away, and had decided that his feelings for Seven were simply infatuation after all. "I just hope the doctor didn't get too involved in those lessons," B'Elanna murmured. Tom turned and stared at B'Elanna. She looked back at him, eyebrows raised. "You know how the doctor can be. He never does anything halfway. He probably had charts and diagrams of every step, and started with how the ova and sperm first meet, and went on with excruciating detail from there." Tom chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised. But you have to give him credit. He did get Seven one date." B'Elanna snorted. "And she promptly dislocated Chapman's shoulder and tore his ligaments." "Yeah. Imagine that," Tom drawled. "A guy's date dislocating his shoulder. And tearing his ligaments." B'Elanna glowered at him. "I've never torn your ligaments, Tom. Just because you've had a few strained muscles—" "A few?" Tom echoed. "And cuts and bruises, and fractures…" "*One* fracture," B'Elanna corrected darkly, then she muttered under her breath, "You baby." Tom laughed. "Quite honestly, B'Elanna, if I was a baby I wouldn't be here." B'Elanna eyes narrowed. "If you're complaining…" "Nope." Tom captured her hand and laced his fingers in hers. "It's worth every only slightly painful moment." B'Elanna smiled complacently. "Good. Because if you really can't handle it—" "Who, me?" Tom asked, shocked. Then he gave B'Elanna a meaningful look. "Besides, I seem to remember that you're the one who practically had to be resuscitated the last time we did it…" he grinned, unintimidated as she pressed closer to him, giving him a look that dared him to continue, "and you were tied to the—" "Tom. B'Elanna." B'Elanna, whose face had been a mere two centimeters from his as they baited each other, jerked her hand away from Tom's and moved back as Tom whipped around at the sound of their names being spoken. He hadn't even heard Janeway approach. "Captain," he murmured, hoping the warmth in his face wasn't evident in Sandrine's low lighting. Chakotay walked up behind Janeway, both of them obviously on their way out of Sandrine's. Tom doubted they had heard any of the conversation, since he and B'Elanna had been invading each other's personal space with enough enthusiasm that they'd been talking in very low tones. At least he hoped not. "I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation," Janeway said, her expression amiably impassive. She gave them a small smile, perhaps simply in greeting, though Tom thought he saw a hint of amusement in her eyes. But if she'd overheard any of their private words, she didn't allude to them. "We just stopped by to say goodnight," Chakotay said, his own expression equally bland. "And I just wanted to tell you how nice it is to see Sandrine's back again, Tom," Janeway added. She glanced around, her gaze taking in the pleasing combination of warm dark wood and soft lighting. "I'd forgotten how cozy and inviting this place can be. It's a very relaxing place to wind down an evening." "Yes, it is," Chakotay agreed. "And it's certainly become popular again all of a sudden." "You'll have to credit the doctor for that," Tom said, nodding his head in the doctor's direction. Janeway looked toward the piano, where the doctor was playing a new song, this one without lyrics, his body moving in rhythm with the motion of his hands as he played. "Yes, the doctor does seem to have found a new favorite pastime." She looked back at Tom and her lips quirked. "It's too bad about the pool table though." Tom grinned. "You were pretty good, Captain. I always wondered if you were practicing a little on the sly, since you were turning into quite a hustler." Janeway didn't seem too bothered by her chief pilot calling her a hustler. She just gave him her most enigmatic Mona Lisa smile. "You let me know if you ever decide to bring that pool table back, Tom." B'Elanna had recovered her equilibrium and she gave Tom a small smirk at the implied challenge in the captain's voice. Chakotay's smile had a definite edge of amusement to it also. Tom was unruffled. "I'll make sure you get the very first game when I reinstate the pool table, Captain." Janeway nodded. "Good. In the meantime I'll say goodnight, since I still have several unfinished reports to work on." "And I have an early call," Chakotay added. He smiled at B'Elanna and Tom. "Enjoy the rest of your evening." After they'd murmured their farewells, Tom watched as the captain and Chakotay walked to the piano, where Janeway dropped a hand on the doctor's shoulder and gave him a warm, indulgent smile. The doctor looked up as she murmured something to him, and then he nodded and gave her a beaming smile in return.. The doctor looked up and smiled again as Seven followed only a few moments later in the captain's path, and though the doctor put full holographic wattage into it, Tom thought the smile was a little forced. "Seven." The doctor's voice was cheery. "I see you've decided to experiment with your socialization skills tonight." "No, doctor. I believe my socialization skills are now adequate." B'Elanna snorted softly next to Tom. "I was simply delivering some reports." The doctor deflated just a little. "Oh. Of course. Well…goodnight, Seven." Seven nodded coolly, obliviously. "Goodnight, Doctor." The doctor watched her leave silently. A few moments later Ensign Lang and Lieutenant Ayala vacated their table, and almost immediately after Harry and Jenny rose to follow them out. "Looks like the place is emptying out," B'Elanna commented as Harry and Jenny smiled and waved in her and Tom's direction on their way to the door. "And what do you suppose is going on with those two?" she asked curiously. Then she looked at Tom when he didn't answer her. "Tom?" Tom turned to B'Elanna. "Hmm?" "Harry and Jenny. I said what do you think—" B'Elanna looked at Tom's obviously distracted expression. "Never mind." The doctor began to play another song. And as soon as he started to croon the words, B'Elanna groaned. "Not this song again. He already played it once tonight. And several times last night." "I kind of like it," Tom said. "It has a nice sentiment." "You mean it's kind of sappy," B'Elanna said. Tom shook his head. "I don't think so." "A little lamb lost in the woods? That sounds…helpless and needy," B'Elanna said with distaste. Tom turned and looked at her. She was frowning at the doctor as he crooned the words, looking a little uncomfortable. He knew how B'Elanna disliked the idea that anyone might think her anything less than tough and totally self-sufficient. "Haven't you ever felt…lost, B'Elanna?" he asked her softly. "Like you didn't have a clue where you were going, or where you belonged? Or if you were ever going to find something—or someone—to make your life worthwhile again?" He knew the answer, that she'd spent a good part of her life looking for just that, as he had. He held her gaze intently as she turned to stare at him. "And mostly, you weren't sure that anyone at all gave a damn?" B'Elanna knew that Tom had certainly felt that way in his past, even if he rarely spoke of it. Just as she had. She placed her hand lightly over his. "Maybe I have," she admitted slowly. "And the idea of someone to watch over you, B'Elanna, doesn't mean that you need someone to take care of you. Or that I do." He smiled at B'Elanna's deliberately doubtful look. "It means someone who will be on your side, no matter what. No matter how many fights or hurt feelings or disagreements, someone who won't leave, who will never walk out even if the whole rest of the universe does." He threaded his fingers into hers, his eyes still intent on her face, and neither of them spoke for several moments. "…if she'd follow my lead, oh, how I need, someone to watch over me." The doctor's voice faded slowly on the final note. "It's still sappy, but maybe it's not such a bad song," B'Elanna said softly, and Tom smiled. The doctor sat at the piano silently for the first time all evening, his hands motionless on the keys. Then he seemed to sense someone else was there, and turned slightly, seeing Tom and B'Elanna. "Ah, Mister Paris. Lieutenant Torres. I didn't realize anyone was still here." "Everyone else has left, Doc," Tom said. "We can leave if you want to be alone." "No, no reason for that, Mister Paris," the doctor said lightly, rising from the piano bench. "I think I've played enough for one night anyway." He laced his fingers together and stretched his arms, as if his holographic body was stiff from sitting. "This is just a new hobby I'm trying out for a while." "You've got a talent for it, Doc," Tom said, earning a pleased smile from the doctor. "And I like that last song." "Someone to Watch Over Me?" The doctor shrugged. "Yes, I suppose it is a nice song. Just one I randomly chose from the computer's extensive music database." "Uh huh," Tom murmured. The doctor raised an eyebrow. "After my tutoring sessions with Seven on dating…" his pause was almost imperceptible, "I found I'd developed a curiosity myself about the human need for such one-on-one liaisons. From a purely scientific standpoint of course." "Of course," Tom murmured again, and B'Elanna looked at him questioningly. "Music seems to express that longing for…love in eloquent ways, thus I've been searching the database for songs that illustrate that longing. "Someone to Watch Over Me" seems particularly evocative on that score." The doctor paused in his rather pedantic explanation and looked at Tom and B'Elanna thoughtfully. "And I suppose that particular song may have some personal meaning for the two of you." B'Elanna looked immediately disinclined to comment on the doctor's assertion, but Tom smiled. "I suppose it might have at one time, Doc." The doctor nodded at Tom's answer, looking surprisingly gratified. Then he shrugged and gave them both a smug smile. "For me it is just another song in the database that expresses the emotional need for exclusive companionship among humans—and Klingons—that sometimes goes sadly unfulfilled. But fortunately, being a hologram, I am not burdened trying to satisfy a need that, from my observation, often causes as much pain as happiness." "I suppose you have to know pain to know love," Tom agreed, and for once there was no intentional no double entendre in his words. The doctor's smile faded just a bit. "Then I suppose I shall count my "lucky" stars, as you might say, Mister Paris, that it is all outside my experience. And now, I have several charts to review for the beginning of the crew's biannual medical examination tomorrow, so I will end my musical exhibition for tonight—" The doctor paused, catching Tom's quick sideways glance at the piano. "And no doubt you've been waiting for me to leave so you can put your pool table back, Mister Paris." "Doc, how can you think that?" Tom asked, feigning hurt. The doctor just shook his head. "It is your program, Mister Paris, so there's no good reason I should usurp your props for my own—" "Doc, I don’t mind sharing the program," Tom said. "We can take turns." "That's very generous of you," the doctor said, with genuine gratitude. "And if you do reinstate your pool table, I just might be interested in challenging you to a game." There was a small thoughtful smile on the doctor's face. "I expect I might be quite good at a game of simple mechanics." "Stand in line, Doc," Tom said. Then he added a little sourly, "And playing pool involves a little more than simple mechanics. There's a certain amount of skill involved." The doctor shrugged. "If you say so, Ensign. But I suppose we can find out if that's true at a later date. Right now, I must be going." "Goodnight," Tom said, trying not to sound too eager. "And don't worry, we'll lock up," he added. "No doubt," the doctor said dryly, a knowing look on his face. "Will that be before or after you leave?" B'Elanna gave the doctor a warning look, but Tom just grinned impudently. The doctor shook his head. "You're right. I don't want to know." He turned and walked toward the heavy oak door of Sandrine's, still shaking his head and talking to himself, though deliberately loud enough for Tom and B'Elanna to hear. "Where you two find the constant energy—" "Goodnight, Doctor," B'Elanna said loudly and pointedly. The doctor stepped into the doorway as the door opened. For a moment it seemed as if he might leave quietly, but then he turned around and looked at Tom and B'Elanna with a smug smile on his face. "You know, the holodeck does have one interesting property that is missing in many other areas of this ship." "What's that, Doc?" Tom asked in the ensuing silence, figuring taking the bait would be the quickest way to get the doctor to leave. "It's completely soundproof." The doctor took a step backward as Tom and B'Elanna looked at him, momentarily speechless. The door closed on the doctor's broad grin. And beside him Tom could literally hear B'Elanna growl. He schooled his expression before he turned to her. "Don't laugh, Tom," B'Elanna warned him. Tom shook his head, trying not to do just that. He couldn't help that his lips turned up a little at the corners. "You do have to admit though, that the doctor has a point," he said, giving her a significant look. B'Elanna held his gaze for a moment, and her annoyed expression faded into something more anticipative. Tom smiled fully. "And I don't think we should waste the opportunity to take full advantage of that fact." B'Elanna smiled back slowly. "I think you're right. And even if pool isn't your best game—" "Hey!" Tom protested. "I'm actually a pretty damned good pool player." Though at this point he was seriously reconsidering whether to ever bring that pool table back. His ego might be better off if he stuck with the ping- pong tournament he and Harry had recently discussed organizing. "You are a good pool player, Tom, just not quite as good as you think you are." B'Elanna pressed her fingers against Tom's lips, stopping him any further protest. "But there are certainly other…games where your skill are most definitely unsurpassed," she finished, her voice low and intimate. She slid her hand down his throat to his chest, and then insinuated her fingers between the buttons of his white shirt and lightly caressed his warm skin with her fingertips. "On or off a pool table." Tom licked his lips at her husky tone, his mouth suddenly dry again. B'Elanna's fingers closed over the front of his shirt, pulling a handful of the material taut. There was a definite look in her dark eyes, and he knew if he let her she'd pop every button on his shirt and leave it half in shreds getting it off him. He knew because he'd replicated upwards of two dozen white cotton dress shirts since they'd been together. "B'Elanna, I'm really low on replicator rations right now," he told her, his own hand drifting down to stroke her thigh. B'Elanna's smiled wolfishly. "I'm not." Tom groaned as she jerked her hand down and he heard sound of his shirt ripping. Several buttons bounced on the table and rolled to the floor. B'Elanna pushed against him as he stood up, nearly making him trip over his chair. "The pool table, Tom," she murmured, pressing her lips to his now fully exposed chest. "Computer, remove the piano and replace it with a regulation size pool table," Tom said in a slightly strangled tone as they stumbled clear of the chairs. The computer complied and Tom glanced over as the pool table reappeared in place of the piano. B'Elanna's teeth scraped the sensitive skin over his collarbone. "I hope the captain won't mind that she won't be the one to play the very first…game with me after all," Tom said softly, his meaning purposely cryptic. B'Elanna raised her head and stared at Tom. She remembered a rumor circulating in the very early days aboard Voyager, that the captain and Tom Paris might be more than just mentor and protégé, and that the captain had found herself a younger and very virile lover in the reputed bad boy of the ship. It had been one of the wildest and most unfounded rumors ever to circulate on Voyager, and short-lived, and Tom himself had laughed about it later, thoroughly amused. And now he was giving her an insufferable grin, no doubt meant to intentionally provoke her. "She'd better not mind," B'Elanna said shortly. Then she threaded her fingers tightly into Tom's hair and pulled his head forcibly—possessively— closer to her face. "And if she does…too bad." Tom chuckled right before B'Elanna ground her lips into his, kissing him hard. They moved together across the rest of the distance to the pool table, barely avoiding falling as their hands worked to push clothing out of the way. Finally they literally bumped into the pool table, their mouths still melded together. Tom slid his hand from B'Elanna's thigh and positioned it just below her firmly rounded derriere, and in one quick movement he hauled her unceremoniously onto the pool table. She landed on that lovely derriere and stared in surprise at Tom. Tom only briefly enjoyed the view as B'Elanna splayed her hands on the table behind her, supporting her weight, a position that incidentally thrust her breasts out quite provocatively against the tight bodice of her emerald dress. Her bare legs were spread and her knees raised, and the skirt of her dress was gathered up around her hips. She wasn't wearing shoes, since she'd kicked those off somewhere under their table earlier in the evening, and her toes curled around the edge of the table for purchase, and probably leverage. He noted that she was wearing a very wispy pair of black panties. B'Elanna's quiescence at Tom's action was only momentary. He was rarely the one who initiated the first overtly aggressive move, but she overcame the unexpected development quickly. "Is this a variation on the game we played last time, Tom?" she asked softly, her tone dangerous. Tom smiled fearlessly. He leaned forward, positioning himself between her crooked legs. "I'm always game for new variations," he said insinuatingly, rearranging her words. B'Elanna reached out with lightning speed and grabbed the shredded remnants of Tom's shirt with one hand. With a hard jerk she pulled him forward and he sprawled onto the table, landing half on top of her. In one swift move she expertly flipped him over and straddled him. And as she looked down at him with a ferocious smile on her face, Tom managed to get out a few crucial words before she descended completely on him and the game began in earnest. "Computer, engaged privacy lock." And then Tom and B'Elanna may well have engaged in new variations of an old game, and those variations may have brought about the full and intense mutual satisfaction they always achieved together—or perhaps even something more. They may have growled and screamed each other's names repeatedly, and invoked the names of every deity they know in addition, as their game progressed to its explosive conclusion. And they may have collapsed in each other's arms afterwards, feeling just a little sore in various spots, and they may even have found the energy shortly after to do it all over again. Perhaps more than once. But—unlike during other rumored impassioned encounters between them—no one would unwittingly bear witness to the full breadth and depth of Tom and B'Elanna's passion for each other on that particular night. The program was securely locked, and completely soundproof, and no one was able to see—or hear—a thing. ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ The end.