Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: 29 Apr 2004 10:23:59 -0700  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: whoa_nellie40@hotmail.com (whoa nellie) 
 

Title: Volte-face
Author: Whoa Nellie (whoa_nellie40@hotmail.com)
Series: TNG
New 3/5
Rating: NC-17
Codes: P/Vash
Summary: The most joyous time in the Picards' lives suddenly takes an
Author's note:  Feel free to archive to any pertinent site.  

Important detail:  This occurs in the Double Entendre timeline after
Reasons of the Heart (reminder:  in this universe, Worf is Chief of
Security and married to Deanna; there is no Crusher/Chakotay
relationship and Riker still has his beard).

As always: Paramount owns all the marbles, we just have a lot more fun
playing with them.
Feedback is always appreciated - posted or e-mail. 

Whoa Nellie's Picard/Vash Romance Fan Fiction website is at:
http://www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/Galaxy/7926/

Whoa Nellie's Sci-Fi Romance Fan Fiction website is at:
http://www.geocities.com/whoa_nellies2000/

Continued from Part 2

	Picard massaged his neck wearily as he sat in his chair at the head
of the table in the conference room.  He had slept on more
uncomfortable surfaces in his life, but never in such an uncomfortable
circumstances.  He'd heard Vash tossing and turning, occasionally even
sobbing, throughout the night and the one thing he wanted to do--hold
her--was the last thing she wanted from him.  Somehow he had to find a
way to fix things between them; what he thought had been an
incredible, idyllic afternoon of pleasure with his wife and the mother
of his child was turning out to be a horrible nightmare.  He shook
himself back to the moment when the rest of the senior staff began
filing into the room.

	"Well, Captain, I've examined the device," Geordi got right to
business, "without knowing anything about Vorgon technology, I'm
guessing at a few things.  There were a few circuits that were burned
out, possibly from the energy overload that brought her here, but I
think that it might be possible to transport over short distances as
it is.  It wouldn't have much power, but it still appears to be
capable of generating enough energy for short bursts."

	"Can it be repaired?" Riker asked, just beating Picard to the
question.

	Geordi nodded.  "With Data's help, I should have it fully functional
in a few days."

	"Can it be used to send her back to the reality that she came from?"
Picard requested.

	It was Data who answered.  "It will take some time to make the
necessary calculations, but yes, sir, I believe so."

	"Can it be done without letting her take the device with her?" Picard
specified.

	Geordi exchanged glances with Data.  "I'll see what I can rig up,
Captain."

	Picard reviewed the information in front of him.  "Well, submit your
reports on the matter by the end of shift.  I'll be forwarding
everything to Starfleet along with our options and wait for orders
from HQ.  Dismissed."

	Deanna remained in her seat, unobtrusively gesturing for Worf and
Beverly to leave without her.  Once she was alone with Picard, she
rose and moved to a chair beside him.  "Would you like to talk about
it, sir?"

	"Are you familiar with the old Earth saying about walking a mile in
someone else's shoes, Counselor?"

	Before she replied, she paused to sort through the emotions she was
picking up.  "Yes, sir."

	Picard abruptly switched gears.  "I should have been able to tell the
difference."

	"They are identical," Deanna pointed out.

	"In appearance," he acknowledged.  "I kiss my wife every day and
sleep with her every night; I should be able to distinguish my wife
from any other woman blindfolded."

	Deanna shook her head.  "That's a myth, a very romantic one, but the
reality is that the human body is designed to respond to certain
stimulation.  The proper stimulation to certain parts of the body
produces immensely pleasurable feelings whether it's what you want to
feel or not.  The other Vash was obviously well-versed in male
anatomy.  She knew what to do to give you the most pleasure and the
fact is that, in terms of pheromones, appearance and even the sound of
her voice, she's identical to your Vash."

	"A rationalization which I wasn't very quick to accept either,"
Picard recalled wryly.

	"I would say that the shoe is on the other foot for both of you," she
said.  "Vash will calm down and she does still love you very much. 
Somewhere she does understand, she's just a bit emotional right now
and this situation is difficult to deal with."

	"My wife has some damned uncomfortable footwear herself."

............................

	Picard stepped off the turbolift and headed for the brig.  The
alternate Vash had requested an audience with him 'at his earliest
convenience'.  It was amazing how she could get so much sarcasm into a
written request.  The situation was becoming more intolerable by the
minute, he was being shredded emotionally between the two Vashes--the
one he loved didn't even want him to sleep in the same room and the
other one manipulating him more shrewdly than any Ferengi.  She didn't
act tough, but she had made comments that left no doubt as to her
willingness to take every advantage and do whatever she had
to--including murder--to get her way.  Part of him wished that he
could just let her go, give her transporter back and get rid of her. 
His Vash would forgive him, she still loved him but she was just a
little too emotional from the pregnancy hormones to handle this; with
the alternate Vash gone it would be easier.

	"You can't hold me indefinitely, Captain," the alternate Vash
remarked the instant she saw him enter the room.  "I've done nothing
illegal in this universe."

	"Your being here may be illegal," Picard pointed out calmly.  "Until
Starfleet Command reviews the situation and makes a determination, you
will be held."

	"I demand legal counsel," she said.  "I've been kept here for
twenty-four hours, questioned and my property stolen."

	"Confiscated," he corrected.  "The transporter is being repaired in
anticipation of a decision to send you back to your own universe. 
When Starfleet renders their decision you will certainly have the
option to appeal but until then, you're being detained pending the
outcome of an investigation."

	The alternate Vash suddenly became very coy.  "The least you could do
is keep me company, Jean-Luc.  It gets very cold and lonely in here."

	Picard ignored the salacious invitation.  "We've come up with a way
to send you back without sending the device back with you.  If you
have any preference as to what time period we send you to--"

	"You can't do that!" she interjected.  "I'll be defenseless
against--"  Just as suddenly as she'd begun, she broke off and spun
away from him.

	"Who?" he asked.  "What will you be defenseless against?"

	"How's Vash handling this situation?" the alternate Vash abruptly
changed the subject.  "The other one, I mean."

	Picard stiffened.  "My wife is none of your concern," he snapped.

	She began toying with the neckline of her outfit.  "She's still upset
about our little tryst, isn't she?  Tell her not to worry, at least
when you shout my name during sex, she'll never know the difference."

	He started to reply but bit the comment back and turned to leave.

	"Admit it, Jean-Luc, a menage a trois would be a truly mind-bending
experience, wouldn't it?"

.....................

	Early that evening in the captain's quarters, Vash made herself
comfortable on the couch with a glass of orange juice and several of
her latest archaeology journals while waiting for Jean-Luc to get
home.  Charcoal, Vash's small, black cat, leapt up to saunter along
the back of the couch.  The tiny animal gave a plaintive meow and
nudged at the side of her mistress's head for attention.  Vash set
aside the journal she was reading as the cat pounced onto her lap. 
She gently scratched the cat behind the ears.  "Don't worry,
everything's all right.  Mommy loves Daddy far too much to let
anything or anyone come between them."  She heard a sharp inhale and
glanced up to see Jean-Luc standing across the room having just walked
in.  She took in his fatigued and slightly-haggard appearance.  "Damn,
you look like hell.  Did I do that to you?"

	"Is it safe for me to have this conversation with you?" he replied
watching Charcoal stretch and curl up in Vash's lap.  The cat's black
fur was a striking contrast to the pink satin of Vash's pajamas. 
Seeing her nod, he walked over to wearily sink into the easy chair on
her left.  He searched her lovely face and began, "Vash . . ."

	Overwhelmed by the naked emotions emanating from his grey eyes, she
reached over to lay her left hand across his right.  She knew what he
needed to hear her say.  "Je t'aime, Jean-Luc."

	"Je t'aime," he vowed softly.  He took her small hand in his, holding
onto it like it was a lifeline.  "In the many decades I've spent as a
Starfleet officer, I can't remember ever feeling as helpless as I did 
listening to you cry last night.  I know you're hurt and angry and
I'll understand if you're not ready to forgive me or share our bed
with me.  All I'm asking is that you not leave."

	"I'm so sorry, Jean-Luc, Deanna warned me not to shut you out and I
did it anyway." Vash's eyes flooded with regret at the anguish evident
in his voice.  She looked down at Charcoal and admitted softly, "I'm
glad you slept here instead of your ready room."

	"I wanted to stay in the bedroom and hold you until you stopped
fighting me."

	She met his gaze,  "So basically fatherhood isn't making any
self-preservation instincts kick in anywhere for you, is it? 
Reminding me that at least I wasn't forced to watch wasn't your most
brilliant Picard Maneuver, Ubercaptain.  Seriously, Johnny, were you
trying to get gelded?  And just for the record, I wasn't having erotic
dreams about your alternate.  He was sending them to me with the help
of a Ferengi thought-maker," she pointed out.

	"Noted." Wincing, he glanced down at her hand in his and noticed her
wedding ring.  "You were right.  I should have known, should have been
able . . ."

	"No," she cut him off shaking her head.  "There was no reason for you
to even suspect anything was wrong and once I calmed down and
stampeding hormones gave way to rational thought, I understood that. 
I know from experience that, in this situation, the ability to compare
and contrast makes hindsight twenty-twenty.  So, do we know how she
got here in the first place?"

	He sounded slightly disgusted.  "She uses a time-traveling device to
steal priceless, sometimes powerful relics from periods in history and
sell them to the highest bidder.  The device malfunctioned when the
ship she was transporting herself off of was destroyed."

	Knowing that this was an aspect of her chosen profession that irked
him, Vash found she couldn't help playing 'poke that button'.  "There
have always been private collectors and museums who hire
archaeologists to acquire certain pieces.  An excellent example being
Sir Hans Sloane who, in the late 1600 and early 1700's, employed
anyone traveling abroad to bring back novel items that could be added
to his private collection.  His collection of antiquities became the
foundation for the British Museum."

	"Which to this day is one of the most renowned museums in the
Federation.  Yes, Professor, we've already covered this in class," he
quipped, grateful to be on comfortable ground with her.

	"Ah, so he does pay attention in class," she cooed impishly to
Charcoal.  Returning her attention back to Jean-Luc and the matter at
hand, she added, "although, my counterpart has certainly added a new
twist on an old theme.  Where might I acquire such temporal
transportation?"

	"It seems that while acquiring the Tox Uthat on Risa, she tangled
with the Vorgons and procured one of their time-traveling devices."

	"You mean there's a universe where I actually pulled off my little
scheme?" she brightened somewhat at the thought.

	Picard patted her head gently.  "Only because I never went to Risa
and outsmarted you--her."

	Vash stuck her tongue out at him.  Another thought occurred to her,
"the Vorgons activated their devices by tapping the side of their
heads.  Oh God," she looked as though she might get sick.  "Okay, as
an archaeologist I'm used to dealing with humanoid remains, but
they're usually thousands if not millions of years old.  That's very
different than dealing with them when they're . . ."

	"Fresh, " he finished euphemistically for her.  "Even before Risa her
experiences may have been very different than yours.  In her universe,
Bajor has been destroyed, the Federation lost the war with the
Dominion and to top it all off, Risa is a private hedonists resort
specifically for individuals who enjoy bondage and sadomasochism."

	"Oh God," Vash reiterated, this time with a tinge of humor in her
voice.  Shaking her head at the report of one of their favorite
romantic getaway spots, she asked, "please tell me Paris is just
Paris."

	"I didn't have the courage to ask," he remarked dryly before
continuing in a serious voice.  "One of the pieces she admits to
acquiring is the Stone of Gol and provoking Arctus Baran as a result. 
She claims his death was self-defense."

	"Are you saying you believe this woman is capable of murder?"  Vash's
eyes went wide with shock.

	He shook his head.  "I'm not sure I'm ready make that leap; both
incidents could have been legitimate cases of self-defense.  The
Vorgons did fire an energy weapon at you and Baran was a very
dangerous man."

	Placing the cat on the couch, Vash stood up and paced across the
room. "Captain, you're allowing your personal feelings to cloud your
judgment."

	"I have no personal feelings for this woman," he stiffened visibly.

	She spun to face him, crossing her arms across her chest.  "Of course
you do; remember, I've already walked a kilometer in your shoes and
when I was ready to be completely honest with myself, around four this
morning, I realized that was why I was so jealous and angry.  I know
when you look at her you see my face, my eyes, and when she speaks you
hear my voice . . ."

	"Vash," he cut her off not wanting her to continue with that train of
thought.

	Her voice became even more determined.  "There has always been an
intense sexual attraction between us, a purely physical aspect to our
relationship.  She knows that now, too.  Make no mistake, if given the
chance she will use it."

	"Your point?" he asked standing up to face her.  He found himself
unnerved by how precisely she had ascertained the tactics being
employed against him by her alternate.

	"You never allowed your alternate to come between us in the past and
I won't allow this woman to come between us now."  She closed the
distance between them.  Stopping to stand directly in front of him,
she tenderly took his face in her hands and stared directly into his
eyes.  "She can't have you."

	Picard acquiesced completely to Vash when she crushed the lush,
fullness of her lips against his own in a passionately possessive
kiss.  Her arms encircled his neck while her supple curves pressed
against him.  Wrapping both arms tightly around her tiny waist, he
followed her lead but resisted the urge to take any initiative for
fear that he might break the spell somehow.  Her tongue stole between
his parted lips to plunder the depths of his mouth, searching for his
tongue and coaxing it out of hiding.  His tongue responded, dancing
with hers in a sensual tango.  He lost himself in the sweet taste of
her kiss and the delicate scent of her perfume.  Reluctantly, he broke
the kiss, dropping his forehead to rest on the top of her head.  A
knot formed in his throat.  He had been shaken to the core by the
thought of facing a life without her standing at his side.

	"To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse. 
Well, we've certainly had better days and I'm sure we'll have worse. 
We've always made a wonderful team and as long as we remember that
we'll be okay," Vash said softly against Picard's chest, tightening
her arms around him.  She felt rather than heard the long, ragged
breath he let out.  They stood there for several moments before she
pulled back to look up at him coquettishly through her lashes. 
"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"

	Picard found himself captivated by her bedroom eyes, pools of liquid
blue gazing up at him through thick lashes.  His voice was choked with
emotion, "ma petite, are you sure?"

	"I want you, Jean-Luc," Vash whispered resolutely.  She stood up on
tiptoe and leaned in to nibble at his lips with brief, feather-like
kisses.  She punctuated each one of her next words with a teasing nip.
 "Make love to me."

	"Vash," he groaned and his lips seized hers, his tongue delving into
the depths of her mouth for a desperately impassioned kiss.  Moving to
span her tiny waist, his hands slipped beneath her pajama top, slowly
sliding up the smooth bare skin of her stomach to rest just below the
full curves of her breasts.

	Wanting more, Vash deepened the kiss, her tongue challenging and
stroking his within the moist warmth of her mouth.  She quivered from
the stirring heat of his powerful hands, the erotic expectation
causing her pulse to quicken.  Her breasts swelled, urging him to
caress them, and the peaks stiffened to attention, demanding in their
need.  His thumbs brushed over the sensitive crests, sending shivers
of excitement racing through her entire body.  When they finally broke
the kiss, they were both breathing unevenly.  She braced her hands on
his chest and gently pushed herself away from him.  Clasping both of
his hands in hers, she led him toward their bedroom.  She stopped at
the foot of the bed and released her hold on Jean-Luc's hands. 
Resting her hands briefly on the muscular slopes of his broad
shoulders, she moistened her lips before she slid one hand down to
trace leisurely circles around the rank pips on his burgundy uniform
tunic.

	He was barely breathing as she slowly trailed her small hands down
the front of his jacket, unfastening each and every clasp in turn. 
Light glistened off her silky curtain of hair, shimmering with each
movement of her head.  He stared down at her, completely transfixed by
the sensual sight of her slender, feminine fingers deftly working the
fasteners.

	Opening the jacket as she went, Vash's small hands slipped inside and
traveled up to push it off his shoulders and peeling it away to drop
on the floor.  Undoing the fasteners of his burgundy tunic, she pulled
it down his arms to join his jacket.  Her hands lingered on the solid,
bulging biceps of his upper arms, the tender strength they represented
heightening her desire.  She slid her hands down the tapering lines of
his body to the waistband of his trousers tugging at his T-shirt and
pulling it free of his waistband.  Her hands skimmed over the sculpted
muscles of his chest as she pushed the thin cloth out of her way until
he finally pulled it off over his head.  With Jean-Luc stripped to the
waist, Vash's eyes drank in the well-defined muscles of his chest,
shoulders and arms.  She stroked and caressed his skin, just marveling
at the tightly-leashed power contained in his lean, muscular body.

	Throbbing painfully, Picard's body was screaming for her, frustrated
at the leisurely, tormenting pace that she had set.  He fought to keep
his burgeoning passions in check in order to allow Vash to continue to
set the pace of this encounter.  At the forefront of his mind was also
her condition, for the first time since he'd met her, she seemed to be
a fragile, china doll.  He closed his eyes and concentrated on the
feeling of her small hands massaging the muscles of his chest moving
down towards his abdomen.

	Her hands roamed over the firm planes of his torso down to the
waistband of his trousers, the taut muscles of his stomach contracting
beneath her touch.  Deftly, she opened his trousers and grasped him
taking up a familiar rhythm.  God, he was so hot and hard, pulsating
in her hands.  Sinking to her knees, she moved back slightly and held
him steady.  She began at the tip, nibbling and licking along the
throbbing ridge and back again before completely enveloping him with
her mouth.  She could hear him moan her name in the background as he
wound his hands in her hair.  Her tongue flicked at him as she began
moving him in and out of her mouth.  She kept up a demanding tempo,
reaching up to lightly trace designs on the plane of his abdomen with
her fingernails.  It was easy to tell when he was enjoying himself,
she could hear him inhale sharply and mutter incoherently in English
and French.

	With each passing moment, her tantalizing ministrations pushed at the
very limits of his self-control.  His body shuddered violently and he
pulled her away with a half-pleading, half-warning gasp, "S`il vous--"
he broke off and drew her to her feet.  He lifted her into his arms
and laid her gently on the bed whispering, "Vash, please."

	Vash's breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his smoldering
steel grey eyes which never left her face while he quickly stripped
off his boots and trousers.  Anticipation alone was enough to cause
butterflies in her stomach when he finally knelt on the bed next to
her.  Her eyes drifted shut as he lowered his face to hers, his lips
brushing the very tip of her nose and each eyelid in turn before
nuzzling her cheeks, his warm breath tickling her skin. The clean,
masculine scent of his aftershave enveloped her, a safe and familiar
smell.  His mouth finally claimed hers for a long, slow, passionate
kiss.  A surge of arousal washed over her from the coarse rasp of his
tongue along the sensitive depths and the fluttering hardened into a
tight knot of desire in her stomach.  It was her turn to inhale
sharply when his mouth released hers to nibble down along her neck
finding the pulse point just below her ear.  Her head rolled back to
bare her throat to his hot, questing mouth.  The swift, teasing flicks
of his tongue against the vulnerable spot sent shock waves over her
body her nipples becoming so hard they ached.

	Studiously, Picard began deftly unbuttoning her nightshirt.  He felt
her body tremble under his hands cradling her bare breasts, the
hardened peaks pressed against his palms.  This beautiful,
irrepressible, impish woman was his life and brought him pleasure and
enjoyment beyond measure.  Languidly, his mouth made its way down the
silken expanse of her skin toward the full curves of her breasts.  He
lovingly explored every dip and curve with his lips and tongue in an
effort to express the depths of his feelings for her.  He traced the
swell of her breasts with his tongue before placing an open mouth kiss
at the center of her cleavage.  His lips imprisoned the nipple of one
of her breasts and he leisurely swirled his tongue over the taut peak.
 He nipped at the hardened crest slightly before suckling strongly.

	The ardently attentive ministrations of his strong hands, warm lips
and tongue had Vash feeling utterly adored and cherished.  She arched
into the heaviness, the sharp ache growing as he suckled first one
breast, then the other.  The heat from his tongue along with the pull
of his mouth and the occasional scrape of his teeth soon had her
throbbing with need.  One large hand slid down her taut midriff, the
heat from his skin sparking against her own.  Slipping beneath her
satin pajama pants, his fingers combed through the dark curls before
traveling even lower.  His long fingers were moving against her,
inside her, caressing her damp, tingling flesh until her entire body
was liquid flames.  Her hips began rocking against his hand while his
fingers slid in and out of her with his thumb stroking her in a
deceptively casual pace; her body pulsed uncontrollably in response to
the lingering, slow pressure of his fingers.  The fire built slowly,
emotion and desire commingling into an incredibly overwhelming
pleasure.

	The look on her delicate features drove his own desire up another
notch.  The wet heat of her body tightly clenching against his fingers
and her frenzied movements told him she was ready.  His hand left her
to quickly slide her pajama pants down the length of her legs dropping
them to the floor next to the bed. Everything else was forgotten, this
time was about the two of them and what they shared.  With his arms
braced on either side of her shoulders, he stretched himself out to
cover her body with his own and looked down the length of their
bodies.  Vash was clad only in her silky, pink nightshirt draped open
to expose the full curves of her breasts with the creamy skin tipped
by rosy peaks.  The lush curves rose and fell as she tried to catch
her breath.  His ardent gaze continued down her slim waist, past the
feminine curve of her hips to those long, shapely legs.  He dropped a
leg between her soft, creamy thighs and she shifted her legs
wordlessly inviting him closer to the culmination they both craved. 
Gently settling himself between her thighs, he murmured, "Je t' aime,
ma chere."

	Vash moaned with pleasure when he entered her with a long, slow
stroke filling her completely.  He began a deliberate, methodical
rhythm, pulling out almost entirely before sliding his hard length
deep inside her with strong, even strokes.  Her hands clutched at his
tightly sculpted arms, anchoring herself, the corded muscles rippling
beneath her fingertips.  She surrendered utterly to the strength and
sheer virility of his masculine presence.  The heat and fullness of
each thrust stoked and inflamed the explosive force mounting inside
her.  She arched helplessly into his movements, trying to quicken the
pace.  The long strokes brought delicious sensations, but the
leisurely tempo was tormenting her.  The pressure continued to build
and she reached for it twisting her hips up to meet each powerful
thrust.

	Picard could sense her impatience the supple curves of her body
instinctively molding to his.  He gradually increased the rhythm, ever
mindful of the pregnancy, and she matched his movements.  With a thin
sheen of perspiration covering his body, he struggled for control
against the extraordinary pleasure engulfing him as her body moved in
perfect synchronization with his own.  The slick depths of her body
were so hot and tight, gripping him with each thrust, frantically
clutching at him in unbridled passion.  Her uninhibited response taxed
his restraint, but the urge to cherish everything about her overrode
the urge to drive into her hard and fast.  Vash bucked strongly
beneath him, her head falling back and her small hands digging into
the muscles of his biceps as she orgasmed.  He didn't want this
exquisite pleasure to ever end, but feeling her body clamp
spasmodically around him threatened to undo him.  It was hearing his
name on her lips in a sweet cry of ecstasy that shattered his control.
 He held himself buried inside her and allowed his own climax to
consume him.  Still braced on his arms hovering over Vash, he gazed
down at her and tried to catch his breath while the last few tremors
of pleasure washed over him.  When her lashes fluttered open, he lost
himself in her vivid blue eyes, "I can't imagine a life without you. 
I love you and I would willingly give my life for you."

	Relishing the feel of Jean-Luc's strong damp biceps beneath her
hands, she knew she never wanted to be without the love and protection
those powerful arms offered her.  Basking in the adoration of a
devoted husband, she told him earnestly, "I've never doubted your love
for me and I never had the slightest intention of leaving your side. 
Like I said earlier, we make a wonderful team."

	He placed a brief kiss on the tip of her nose and rolled off to lie
on his side next to her, propping himself up on one elbow.  Looking
down, he reverently splayed his hand over her lower abdomen and
quietly marveled, "I'm in awe and find it absolutely wondrous that
right now our baby is growing inside you."

	She tenderly placed her hand over his and smiled at him.  "You're
really excited about having this baby, aren't you?"

	He smiled back at her.  "Yes."

	"A handsome son to carry on the Picard family name and one day
command a Federation starship just like his father," she teased
playfully while reaching up trace his strong jawline with her
fingertips.

	"Actually, I was envisioning a little girl as mischievous and as
beautiful as her mother who one day may become a brilliant
archaeologist," he bantered back in his most chivalrous voice, his
hand still lightly resting on her stomach.

	"Jean-Luc."

	Picard instantly recognized the wifely 'I want something' tone in her
voice. "Yes?"

	"A big glass of orange juice over crushed ice," she informed him,
making huge doe-eyes at him before adding a belated, "please."

	Standing up, he noticed the ship chronometer. "Orange juice at this
time of night?"

	"Junior and I have this whole fruity-citrus-craving thing going," she
replied maternally caressing her stomach.

	"Orange juice it is then," he chuckled heading out to the replicator.

......................

End Part 3

--
Stephen Ratliff
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