Series: TOS; Pairing: Uh... C/Lester?; Rating: NC17

Summary: Janice Lester discovers there's more going on aboard the Enterprise than she bargained for.

Poster's Note:

Karmen Ghia mentioned this story to a couple of people at Friscon. I'd obviously given her the impression that it was a finished and published work of art: in fact, what she'd seen, or heard about, was only this outline for the ninth installment of the amazing 'Change of Plan' sequence, which sadly stalled at part eight, when no one would volunteer to tackle Spock's sad decline into hippydom during The Way to Eden.

However, with the permission of everyone who was involved in this installment I've tidied up the file to render it self contained (since the other stories are only available in the Chekov Uncovered #1 & 2 zines, from Linda Knights [http://www.nas.com/~lknight/index.html]) and am posting here (ASCMEL) to save Karmen making multiple emails.

Feedback to the newsgroup, please.

Note: Viewers of the award winning TriVid reconstructions of the Enterprise missions will note the discrepancies between this account and the one with which we have all become familiar. That reconstruction is *not* convincing. Doctor Lester was not stupid enough to permit her First Officer access to Captain Kirk, and Kirk's security officers were not ill-disciplined or foolish enough to allow the First Officer access to a prisoner against the explicit orders of their captain. Hence, Lester's crime had to have been discovered in another way. The truth was concealed under a Vulcan privacy seal until after the deaths of all involved.

Returning from McCoy's tests, even with the satisfaction of having passed every one, Janice Lester was aware of adrenaline pulsing through Kirk's arteries.

Her uniform clung to her sweat damp body in unaccustomed places. Alone in the turbolift she shrugged her shoulders and twisted her back against the cloth. The smell of her own sweat, Kirk's sweat, reached her nostrils. Shocked, she realized that she was becoming aroused.

"Typical," she hissed under her breath. "James Kirk, you always were in love with yourself."

She raised her chin and tapped impatiently with her fingers on the wall next to the control panel. Once she'd showered, she'd call the Chief Engineer, ball him out, and he'd be tuning up these turbolifts until they ran like racehorses.

Once she'd showered and... The turbolifts could continue their miserable crawl for a few more hours. Kirk was off duty. Her fingers moved to the front of her uniform pants and cautiously adjusted the erection they discovered there. The slight stimulation felt good. She experimented, sliding the flat of her palm up and down.

Once she'd... no, *before* she showered, while this body was still doused in Kirk's sweat, she'd strip it, a tease-strip, in front of a full length mirror. She'd put on a show for herself. Of Kirk, jerking himself off.

Her hand was working faster. She snatched it away and a nervous laugh escaped from her mouth. Damn. She'd almost made the bastard come in the lift.

Oh, she'd humiliate him in private, for her own amusement, but she couldn't afford to slip in front of the crew.

She straightened the captain's uniform and stepped out of the lift, all business. His quarters were only a few strides away down the corridor. Masculine, ground eating strides. She could almost feel the deckplates jump under her boots. Power. Mass.

She stopped. The corridor was empty. She let the grin out. This was it. Suddenly she knew how it felt. She wanted to fuck something.

She slammed her left fist into the good right hand that was going to give her the orgasm of a lifetime just as soon as she'd locked the cabin door and stripped Jimmy down to bare ass naked.

Once inside, she glanced around, wondering if there was anything she could use to enhance Kirk's ritual humiliation. His medals maybe, or...

What the hell? What was... There was someone in the shower.

Someone in the shower in Kirk's bathroom.

Well fuck that.

She took her hand off his cock and pulled his tunic down with a sharp little tug.

Well, fuck that. Her mind was whirling. There were no passengers aboard. Kirk, by-the-book Kirk, was screwing one of his crew.

Some brainless blonde yeoman, with big baby doll eyes and as much ambition as a sea slug.

Lester wasn't at all sure how she felt about this. Kirk's body seemed to think it would be a good idea to fuck the brainless yeoman, but Janice wasn't sure she wouldn't puke once the initial sexual urgency died down.

'Anyhow,' she told herself, 'he's not going to screw up *my* career by breaking the rules. No, Jim, this body of yours is going to have to learn some self control. I know it'll be difficult for you... believe me, Mister Thrice Nightly, I know... but this little indiscretion is over and there won't be any new ones to take its place.'

She glanced around the 'private' part of the quarters. Whoever was in the shower, she'd be politely informed that the captain was busy. A formal interview tomorrow, in which the captain would apologize but say that he'd received a 'hint' from higher up, and then a transfer. Painless, no cause for tantrums. Perfect. Lester bent to pick up a pair of uniform pants from the floor. Kind, but firm. She looked at the pants. Pants? Not a single woman on this ship wore pants. As for these, she *knew* they hadn't been there when she'd left the cabin to go the bridge before granting McCoy his medical tests.

So where the hell had they come from?

She glanced over toward the bathroom door. The shower, water not sonic, was still humming.

There was a black 'T' on the floor too. There wasn't a scrap of female apparel in sight.

Lester grabbed the 'T' and held it, and the whole picture suddenly hit her. Jim was fucking his Vulcan first officer. Vulcans didn't touch, everyone knew that. And half a dozen times since she'd come aboard this ship, Spock had touched her. So subtle, so understated, but she'd known it was wrong.

Now, her thinking was in overdrive. Jim Kirk with a man. So it wasn't her fault at all that they hadn't worked out. Kirk was a fucking homosexual. He *couldn't* love a woman. She'd never had a chance. It was nothing to do with her. Yet he'd chosen some alien half-breed freak over her. What kind of an insult was that? And Spock. Spock had stolen Jim from her. Stolen him away with perverted pleasures that no natural woman could compete with.

The shower fell silent. Lester froze. How the hell was she going to react to this?

She was going to fuck that supercilious Vulcan bastard's brains out.

She'd keep her uniform on. It had been bad enough stripping down in front of the doctor's curious gaze. He knew Kirk too well: she'd have to find a reason to lose him.

"Are you going to be all day in there?" she said, feeling her savage mood fading before she could enjoy it. Too many damn things to worry about. She strode over to the bathroom and stopped dead in the doorway, a hand on the frame either side.

God. Not Spock. She didn't even remember this man's name. He was an ensign on the bridge. Navigation. Chekov. Her research came back to her.

He was toweling himself, and he turned to answer, and jumped to find Kirk standing barely two feet behind him.

She couldn't have walked into the wrong cabin, could she?

The ensign leaned forward, wet, barefoot, three or four inches shorter than the captain, who was wearing his usual slightly stacked boots - if Jim Kirk had one laughable weakness, it was a discomfort at being of only average height, a discomfort that Lester made the most of. 'Always look *up* at him,' the friend who'd first set them up had strenuously advised, 'even if you have to bend your knees'.

"Is somet'ing wrong?"

Lester pasted a smile over her disbelief. "Stressful..." She coughed and recovered the pitch of her voice. "Stressful day."

"You are worried about Doctor Lester?"

What a *charming* child. He actually sounded concerned. Maybe if it became necessary to kill her old body, she could pin the blame on this innocent. Hm. Maybe she could even manipulate him into doing it for her.

"She's just an old friend."

"Oh."

From the ensign's tone, Lester deciphered that scuttlebutt on the ship was already telling a different story.

"Okay. Old lover."

"Will she be okay?"

"Doctor McCoy doesn't know."

"I'm sorry."

It was Lester's turn to jump as Chekov put his arms round her and pulled her into a tight hug. She disguised it by hugging him back. Her arms met comfortably round the youngster's back, and he... once in Kirk's embrace, he didn't so much hug, as snuggle into the captain's arms. It was a most curious feeling.

The urge to fuck began to build again. The smell of soaped skin and 'freshed hair, mingling with the sharper day-old masculinity of the captain's body, was winding her back up.

"Do you want to... relax?" Chekov suggested. A hand slipped between them and squeezed Kirk's genitalia. Instinctively, Lester pulled back.

Chekov blinked. "I..."

"Just remember who's in charge here!" she snapped before she could help herself. Fuck, she wasn't going to play the... what was the term? She wasn't going to play 'bottom'. That wasn't why she was here. Maybe it was a good thing this *wasn't* Spock. Vulcan males were sexually dominant, from what she knew anyway. It would be too fucking much to steal Kirk's body and discover he was someone's 'woman'.

The ensign looked worried. Lester decided she didn't like that expression, so she leaned forward and kissed him brutally, mashing his lips against his teeth. She ground their hips together. Chekov gasped. She liked that. She picked him up, ignoring a protest from Kirk's back, and carried him into the cabin, where she threw him down on the bed. "On your hands and knees."

"But..."

She had no idea what her face looked like. Kirk had never been man enough to *take* her. But she guessed it looked good because Chekov sucked in a breath and complied.

She fumbled with the fastening on her pants. It was a struggle to free her erection. Sooo big. Seemed bigger than she remembered. She chuckled. Maybe men always looked bigger to themselves. She pumped it a couple of times to get used to the feeling. She knelt between the kid's feet, nudged his legs apart with her knees, shuffled forward and placed the head of *her* cock at the entrance to his body. This time, his intake of breath was properly scared.

"Aren't you going to..."

"What?"

"It is in the drawer..." He raised one hand to gesture at the bedside unit and almost fell on his face.

"Oh. Sorry." She paused a moment to let him think she meant it, then thrust forward. He yelled and the cabin door opened. Chekov was out of her grasp and wrapped in a sheet before she'd really registered the arrival of six security guards, and Spock.

"Doctor Janice Lester?"

She blinked. Then she recollected her unfortunately exposed condition and turned away from them all to adjust her clothing. "What do you mean?" she demanded, climbing off the bed and defiantly facing her accuser.

"I mean, Doctor, that Captain Kirk does not have sex with his officers. You seem to believe otherwise."

"You... he..." She gestured helplessly at Chekov. "He was taking a shower in my cabin!"

"On my orders, yes." Like the security guards, Spock was entirely straightfaced.

"You can't just order people to shower in the... in my cabin!"

"The captain has never explicitly forbidden it, while you *had* forbidden me any access to Doctor Lester. I was forced to obtain the evidence I needed by whatever means I could." He nodded to the guards. "Take Doctor Lester into custody, please. And release Captain Kirk immediately."

As she was hustled away, and the door closed behind her escort, Spock turned to Chekov. "Thank you, Mister Chekov. Your assistance was invaluable."

"My pleasure, Mister Spock, but..."

"Yes?"

"The captain *does*..."

The Vulcan raised a finger warningly to his lips, hiding the smile that touched them. "You and I know that, but she does not."

The End