Red Dress Saga 02 Read online

  Red Dress Saga 02

  by Terri Zavaleta

  The senior staff meeting was almost over and all the major business had been

  dealt with so they listened to Neelix's proposition for a morale booster.

  "You want to have a party?" Torres repeated.

  "A celebration. A chance for informal socialization for the whole crew,"

  Neelix burbled. "I was discussing the idea with Lieutenant Paris and he

  thought it was a wonderful idea. In fact, we decided on a theme---a red and

  green party!"

  "Red and green?" Janeway repeated dubiously.

  Paris, looking suspiciously virtuous, elucidated. "Since we are such a mixed crew we didn't want to tie the theme into any particular holiday, so we decided to use color as a unifying theme. The colors vary, but it's often done. Everyone would dress in either red or green. It will be very--colorful." That sounded a little lame, even to Paris himself. "It will give everyone the opportunity to get out of their uniforms for a little R and R. It definitely would be a boost for morale."

  "Red?" Torres said. "Now why would you think of that color?"

  Paris widened his eyes and looked as innocent as it was possible for him to look---meaning hardly at all to anyone with a knowledge of his character.

  "It's one of my favorite colors. Don't you like red?"

  She narrowed her eyes at him and refused to answer.

  Chakotay swallowed a snort of laughter and tried to cover up by coughing

  vigorously. Janeway, with false solicitude, reached over and patted his back

  which just set him off again. She knew he was thinking of the conversation

  they had overheard in Sick Bay in which B'Elanna had promised to wear Paris' red dress. Chakotay had wondered why Paris had a dress, but when they had stopped laughing at the picture that conjured up, they both had figured out that it must be something he had given to Torres. The captain couldn't wait to see this infamous red dress especially if Paris had anything to do with it.

  When Chakotay had gotten himself back under control, with watering eyes,

  and slightly flushed complexion, he spoke, "Captain, I think a party is an

  excellent idea. I think we should give Mr. Neelix a--a green light!"

  Neelix beamed at the First Officer. "Would you? I could use it in

  decorating for the party!" That brought a smile to everyone.

  Janeway told him, "That's just an expression, Mr. Neelix. He means go

  ahead and plan the party. I'm sure Mr. Paris would be glad to help you in

  organizing the event. We'll let you know when to schedule it."

  ****************************

  Torres had refused to let Tom Paris be her escort to the party. She

  wasn't ready for a public pairing or the talk it would generate. Tom had

  known exactly what he was doing when he had persuaded Neelix to have a 'Red

  and Green Party'. The Maquis crewmembers had lost all their personal

  belongings along with their ship at the Caretaker's array. Most had not

  wasted precious replicator rations on rebuilding an off duty wardrobe. The

  only dress B'Elanna owned was the one Paris had given her for her birthday. And since it was red---it was only natural that she wear it to the party.She took the box out of the bottom drawer of her dresser. She pulled the dress out of the box and held it up against herself. 'I'm not going to think about it,' she told herself. 'I did promise I would wear it for him if he would wake up and tell me he wanted me to. And what could be safer than wearing it at a party? With all those people around, he won't get out of hand.' She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and noticed the doubtful expression she wore. 'I can't even convince myself of that!' Refusing to allow herself to think about it, she began to get ready for the party.****************Thomas Paris, assistant host, was taking his duties seriously--with half his mind. The other half was impatiently waiting for Torres to make her appearance. Every time the door slid open he jumped in anticipation, only to relax as someone else entered. Since childhood he had been on display at his parents' parties and was quite accustomed to being a social director. He was making sure everyone found the refreshments and had someone to talk to as well as directing the traffic toward the areas where games and sitting space were available. He was chucking Ensign Wildmon's baby under the chin when he felt the atmosphere suddenly become electric. He turned slowly. B'Elanna Torres was standing in the doorway, looking young and nervous---and beautiful. It was the first time anyone on Voyager had seen the chief engineer in anything but utilitarian clothing. She was making up for lost time. The red dress was made of a deeply red material with a two inch border of sequins along the low cut v-shaped neckline. The bodice--what there was of it--was a halter of the same material, held in place by the straps tied in a bow behind her neck, and the dress was almost backless. Though the skirt was rather form-fitting, the deep slit up the left side allowed for ease of movement and her shapely legs flashed in glimpses as she moved. She was wearing red sandals with two inch heels which drew even more attention to the bare expanse of leg above them. The ruby earrings that dangled from below her upswept hair drew attention to the lovely expanse of bare skin between her ears and shoulders.

  B'Elanna took a deep breath and forced herself to exhale slowly. She had

  the distinct impression that everyone in the room was staring at her and she

  wasn't sure she liked it. She looked for a friendly face, someone she could

  talk to so she wouldn't feel isolated from the group. The first face her eyes

  located was Tom Paris.

  He was staring. His expression was that of a man who had just had the

  wind knocked out of him. He seemed to be lost in thought--but he was looking

  at her. He'd seen her in the dress before and had liked it---but then she

  hadn't gone for the full treatment from head to toe. She raised her eyebrows

  at him.

  As if that had broken some spell, he came toward her, still staring, but as

  he got closer, she could read his expression better. It was not a stare of

  disapproval---not by any means. She could read the admiration in his blue

  eyes---admiration and--desire. She had seen that look before. It had never

  been directed at her before quite so clearly. Or at least not that she'd

  noticed.

  Tom stopped two feet in front of her. "B'Elanna--I think I'm speechless."

  "Not noticeably." She couldn't resist teasing him. She was relieved that

  the unnatural silence that accompanied her arrival was broken. The party

  guests seemed to be going back to what they'd been doing, though there were

  still curious eyes watching the two officers. "Well, Tom, I kept my promise.

  I wore the dress."

  "Yeah." He was staring!

  Torres reached over and thumped his upper arm with her fist. "Tom! Cut it

  out! You're making me nervous!"

  Paris twitched as he brought himself back to the moment. "Sorry. You just look so--I mean when I had the dress replicated I had an image---but--wow! I never thought about shoes or jewelry. And with your hair - wow! It's even better in the flesh--I mean on you."

  B'Elanna smiled up at him, trying to hide her pleased embarrassment.

  "Thank you. Now can we change the subject?"

  "To what?"

  She hadn't meant to be taken so literally. She couldn't believe the

  effect the red dress was apparently having on Paris' cognitive abilities. "How about the way you look?" she suggested. He was wearing a dark, almost pine green tunic with matching slacks. I
t was strange but the green color seemed to make his eyes seem even bluer than usual.

  Paris looked down at himself. "How do I look?" A hint of his usual smile appeared. He held his arms up and twirled quickly so she could get a complete picture.

  Torres almost laughed. "You look---very handsome."

  "Thank you, ma'am. Now that we've established that we're the best-looking

  couple present, would you care for some refreshments? A dance?" The music

  playing was a slow dance. Several couples had already made it to the dance

  floor.

  "I don't dance very well," Torres admitted reluctantly. "I've never had

  much practice."

  Tom was determined she was going to have a good time---and so was he. For

  him that good time included holding her in his arms, and if the only way she

  would let him get that close was on the dance floor, then he was going to

  dance with her. "Don't worry about it, Torres. My mother made me take

  ballroom dancing for three years. You just hang onto me---tight--and we'll

  get through this together."

  "How tight?" she said, a smile forming at his audacity.

  Tom pretended to consider it. "Well, tight enough to feel my heartbeat,

  but not tight enough to stop it."

  "I don't know if I can do that," B'Elanna replied consideringly.

  He opened his arms and she walked into them. "Oh, I think you can handle

  it. Or rather we can. I think we can do just about anything---together." He

  gazed down into her eyes. "We make a good team."

  She watched his expression as he began to lead her in a slow dance that

  felt like an embrace. "Don't make too much of this, Paris!" she warned. "It's just a dance. And I wore the dress because I promised."

  Paris, never taking his eyes off hers, nodded slowly. "Of course. I know that. But I know other things too."

  "Such as?" She couldn't take her eyes from his. She felt herself moving

  with him in the dance without consciously thinking about it. It felt--so

  right--so natural to be in his arms. She couldn't imagine herself-

  dancing-with anyone else.

  "Such as you wouldn't have worn it if you didn't want to. Nobody could

  force you to do anything. You can be led, but not driven. You're a strong

  woman, B'Elanna Torres." His voice was soft, gentle. This conversation was

  just between the two of them.

  "You don't mind? Some people find me intimidating." Her tone was almost a

  dare. She wanted an honest answer--no, demanded one.

  Paris shook his head, a hint of a smile still playing around his lips. "I'm not afraid of you, B'Elanna. I think women need to be strong--a woman is supposed to be a man's partner---not his doormat--and not his dictator--his equal. Not every woman has your strength." His expression seemed sad suddenly, as if he were thinking of a woman who should have been stronger.

  B'Elanna wondered if he was thinking of his mother. She had heard rumors

  while at the Academy that Admiral Paris didn't appreciate strong women and

  tended to grade female cadets more strictly than the males. B'Elanna

  couldn't bear the sadness, so she got his attention. She took her hand off

  his shoulder and slipped it around his waist, drawing him closer, their

  bodies touching at almost every point.

  He seemed startled, but pleased, and rested his head atop hers as they

  danced. B'Elanna wished the song would never end. For now, she could pretend.

  And so could Tom.

  ********

  The End

 

 

  Terri Zavaleta, Red Dress Saga 02

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