Post 31 - Where I'm From...

Posted on Thu Apr 8th, 2021 @ 10:01pm by Lieutenant Irynya & Ensign Tamblem Dravor & Lieutenant JG Sheldon Parsons
Edited on on Thu Apr 8th, 2021 @ 10:06pm

Mission: The Waiting Game
Location: Outdoor Tiki Bar - On resort
Timeline: MD 35 - 2100 Hours

[A Resort Tiki Bar on the Beach]
[Grand Delfinium Resort]
[MD 35 - 2100 Hours]

It was an odd feeling sitting at the beach-front tiki bar on the resort. Having grown up on site, Irynya had seen many many guests visit the bar, colorful drinks with small neon umbrellas in unusually shaped drinking vessels feeding the laughter and amusement of so many. She had learned fairly early that it was also a prime location to find folks seeking jamaharon so, although she had never frequented the spot as a guest, she had done a stint as a hostess in her later teenage years before leaving for the Academy and had her fair share of initiations in this spot.

Tonight, though, she was just a guest. A small horga'hn sat next to her bright red beverage. It was fairly inconspicuous for a horga'hn at only 3 inches tall, but it was there nonetheless. It felt like a totem--calling on the comforts of home and the familiar routines of the Risian people. She didn't expect anyone to pick up on the statue. For one thing she was recognizably Risian and while Risians certainly enjoyed each other's company, on resort there was a strict policy of focusing first on those off-worlders who were there to relax. Anyone on staff would recognize her as Piri and Jovian's daughter anyway.

She sipped her drink pensively, a breeze off the ocean ruffling the nearly floor length gauzy drape she wore over the black swimsuit that offered a plunging neckline and appeared to be held up only by a strand of string. The breeze was slightly cooler with the setting of the Risian suns and she adjusted her position so that tendrils of the breeze wound their way through the waterfall of dark hair falling down her back.

"Relax," she murmured to herself. "You're supposed to be here to relax."

"I'm trying," came a voice. "I'm just...having a hard time getting into the spirit?" The voice's owner -- Sheldon Parsons -- had just happened to be walking by as Irynya doled out that bit of wisdom to herself. Of course, he thought she was talking to him, so he came around from behind to engage. Except then the awkward young man saw Irynya's incredibly revealing outfit and literally fell over himself. He tried to prevent an all-out crashdown by grabbing hold of a chair but it, too, fell over. Groaning from the floor, Parsons called out with "I'm fine. Don't mind me...I'm just...going to lay here for a minute?" No doubt to hide the tremendous amount of pink that was now flooding his cheeks in embarrassment.

Over the last couple of months, time spent with counselors aboard the Adelphi and even on Risa had returned Parsons -- more or less -- to the shy, bumbling young man he'd been before the Fate of Five. On Oliveria's orders, Sheldon had sealed off the engine core, trapping five engineering crew in there during an emergency. They'd all died and while it wasn't really his fault, Sheldon had carried that weight around his neck like a boat anchor. It'd taken time and a lot of effort to work through the guilt and shame to the point that he could engage socially with others -- time and work to be a lot less prickly, bitchy, and annoying than he'd been, too. Grief was a terribly impacting thing, it seemed.

But of course, with the return of Bumbling Parsons vs. Bitchy Parsons, his social awkwardness had returned as well. Which was why Sheldon continued to lie there, afraid to get up because then he'd have to face Irynya and her attire again...

It took Irynya a moment -- far too much longer than it should have -- to put together that someone had A) been listening, B) responded to her self-mandate to relax, and C) that said-person was lying sprawled on the ground looking up at the thatched ceiling of the tiki bar like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. The lanky man's pinking face was a sharp contrast to the ops yellow of his Starfleet uniform.

Catching up with herself, she slid quickly from her stool, setting her drink down next to the small horga'hn. "Oh my goodness, Ensign..." she eyed his pips to catch his rank but realized, embarrassingly, that she did not know his name. "I am so sorry, I am sure I should know your name, but I don't." She stuck her hand out to help the man up. "I'm Irynya."

"Sharsons," the man squeaked, staring up at a face-full of, well...scantily-clad Risian. "I mean, Peldon. No, that's not right," he shook his head and sighed, trying to gather himself, "Sheldon. My name is Sheldon," he said with embarrassment, accepting the help up she offered. As he got back on his feet, he was -- once again -- staring directly at her cleavage. For the love of God, wasn't there anywhere else to look?! Parsons appeared almost panicked as he made his eyes rove everywhere else but Irynya. It was like he was simultaneously trying to examine everything on the planet all at once. "Um...hi? So you're from, you know, our old ship?" he asked, trying to make eye contact but...nope, chest.

Irynya couldn't help the chuckle that forced its way from her mouth. "I am, yes."

Noticing the pains to which the much taller ensign was going to avoid looking at her chest she added, "Sheldon, I'm Risian, you're allowed to look. It's kind of our whole thing."

"I'd offer you some sunglasses, Sheldon, but your angle of attack would still give it away," snickered their Trill colleague as he stepped over to lend a hand. "Lieutenant Irynya, don't you look fantastic this evening?" Dravor asked with a grin. The unjoined Trill sported a light-pink linen, almost sheer, shirt unbuttoned it caught the breeze occasionally, and a pair of powder-blue trunks. "Sheldon, why are you in uniform? We are on shore leave, and we have been on shore leave for many weeks."

"Why thank you Tamblem," the Risian said taking the opportunity to appreciate the view of her Trill colleague's physique made possible by the his unbuttoned shirt and a well timed sea breeze. "You're looking quite handsome yourself." She winked as she said it a grin spreading across her face.

Turning to pick up her drink she indicated the empty bar stools next to her. "Would the two of you like to join me? I've never actually enjoyed the Tiki Bar as a guest before."

"Um...sure," Parsons said distractedly, eyes still trying to escape the tractor beam that was Irynya's swimsuit as he took a seat. Thankfully Dravor had joined and was providing an excellent opportunity to ignore the woman's invitation to gawk. To the man's question, he said, "Someone told me that wearing your uniform tended to ward off unsavory characters. The Starfleet Delta means something here and keeps the crime down. I put it on now and then to discourage shenanigans," Parsons awkwardly explained, though it sounded as if he weren't entirely being truthful.

In fact, the white-lie ate it him so much that it took only moments for Parsons to parse out his real agenda. "OK fine," he sighed, not daring to look Irynya's way, "if you must know, I'm doing it for jamahoran. The bartender told me some of the men who hang out here have a real thing for Starfleet officers. Not that I'm confident enough to talk to any of them," he nervously laughed. "Lame, right?"

Resuming her own seat she waved down the bartender pointing to the two men before continuing.

"You also seem to be missing a horga'hn," she noted. "They're not going to approach you for jamaharon without one."

Dravor slipped an arm around the nervous ensign's shoulders. Standing between the two, he winked at Irynya with a smirk as he whispered into Sheldon's ear, "If you wanted jamaharon, I would have happily set you up with someone." Tamblem sighed, tracing a finger across the Human's ear, "I still can, and I can show you a few tricks. Do you happen to enjoy counting spots?"

The Risian's eyes sparkled mischievously as she watched the Trill man run his finger along the tall engineer's ear. "Oh, I can confirm that counting spots is absolutely a delightful pass time if you haven't already tried it Sheldon," she grinned, a small suggestive giggle escaping her lips as she spoke. "It does take a while, but I assure you it's worth the effort."

The poor young ensign shivered and wriggled, feeling almost driven out of his own skin by the uninvited touches and joking innuendo. Parsons actually stammered as he tried to summon words but ended up just looking grumpy and wide-eyed all at the same time. "Those little statues," he finally was able to begin, moving himself out of Dravor's arm-hold and pointing himself away from Irynya, "are well known for also attracting all kinds of trouble. The stories of Ferengi taking advantage of impressionable young Starfleet officers looking for love are quite well known, thank you," Sheldon said, calming down a little now that he was in his own bubble again. "Besides," he turned back to the pair, physically blocking his eyes from seeing Irynya's cleavage with his hand, "you don't see Captain Kodak walking around here with one of those things. Though actually," an afterthought struck, "I don't think I've seen him walking around here at all, come to think of it..."

Irynya frowned palming the small horga'hn that was sitting next to her and rolling it back and forth with her fingers. She fell quiet using her drink as an excuse to pause the conversation. She was aware that Parsons seemed uncomfortable and also aware of the breeze that seemed to be continuously teasing at Dravor's linen shirt raising two very different considerations. After a long moment she sighed and held the totem out to Parsons.

"Stories of Ferengi taking advantage are just that and it sounds like you might need need this more than I do. The men whose attention you want to attract at this bar will only approach you if you have a horga'hn. It's disrespectful to try to convince you to partake of jamaharon without one, so don't trust anyone who approaches you if you don't have it with you."

She paused then, considering further. "Alright, out with it. What are you looking for? There aren't too many Risians here who I don't know or who don't know someone I know."

Dravor peeled back from the frightened Ensign. Worried he had offended his crewmate, he spoke up before Sheldon had a chance to respond to Irynya, "Hey, sorry, Sheldon. I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable." He paused, shaking his head with a smirk. "Alright, maybe a little, but the proposition was uh, genuine. I might have been teasing, but I wasn't joking," the Trill added a little hesitantly with a bit of an awkward smile of his own.

Parsons accepted the little statue thrust his way, mouth sort of agape at Irynya's assertion that not having a horga'hn would create the exact situation he was hoping to avoid. "So...wait," the awkward young man stammered, "you're saying that here, at this resort, there's a rule that you can't approach someone unless they have a statue?" The news seemed to hit him like a phaser blast to the chest. "Well no damn wonder!" Parsons' voice got a bit nasally in his frustration, moving higher up his register. "Leave it to me to screw up Risa," he huffed, the hair on his forehead briefly lifting in the upstream of air from his mouth.

Irynya's question went unanswered, however, as Dravor both apologized and then clarified his intent. "Um..." Parsons stared wide-eyed at the man, disbelief clouding his face, "the teasing and touching I forgive. Thank you," he nodded prissily, seeming to calm down somewhat. "But would you really have sex with a co-worker? I mean," Parsons shook his head, "not really co-workers in the sense that we work in different departments. I'm an engineer and don't really get to the Bridge but you're always up there. So maybe not exactly co-workers but we're shipmates. Definitely shipmates," he nodded to himself quickly, his tone and cadence quickening as if Parsons were building up a full head of steam.

"Is it a good idea for shipmates to do that together? Like, can't that get...weird?" he rephrased the question, directing it to both Irynya and Dravor. Despite his question, though, the engineer awkwardly moved closer to the Trill then, very woodenly placing his hand on the young man's shoulder. He gave a little squeeze and hmm'd approvingly. "Strong shoulders," Parsons nodded, the little statue of Irynya's now cradled in the crook of his left arm. "How often do you have to work out to make that happen?" he asked Dravor with genuine curiosity. Unlike the Trill and even the scantily clad Risian beauty to his left, Parsons was a lanky, limp-armed beanpole. Slim and trim, sure, but lacking much in the way of meat on his bones.

The Trill smirked but avoided any outright laughter as Sheldon made his pass. He acquiesced with a bit of a nod, "It can get weird if everyone isn't on the same page. So it is essential to be sure you are both in agreement about expectations. And the shoulders come with the job. I work out every day." Smiling, Dravor wobbled his head back and forth with a chuckle, "Every day when I'm on assignment, that is. I've been slipping lately."

The tall Risian looked back and forth between the two men before shaking her head and appearing to come to some sort of conclusion.

"Sit, both of you," she commanded shooing them into chairs before nodding to the bartender who had been hovering nearby since her first hand wave to get his attention. "Risian Sunrises all around please." She indicated the three of them with her hand.

While the men got settled she downed her own red drink, pushing the glass inward so that the bartender would retrieve it when he arrived with their new drinks. Colorful glasses decorated with local fruit and filled with a layered concoction materialized in front of them.

"Go on," she instructed making sure the two of them had each taken a sip before she continued.

"Sheldon," she began, making eye contact with the ensign for perhaps the first time in the whole conversation. "Jamaharon is not about sex."

She waited for a minute for that bombshell to land before continuing. "Sex is often a part of jamaharon, but it is a misconception that it is merely meant to be a hook up. It is significantly more than that and a much better experience than simply casual sex. The most basic version is usually between two people who know each other, but aren't romantically involved. Or, with most tourists, between a themselves and a Risian guide. Are you following so far?"

"...yes?" Parsons said without confidence, shaking his head to underscore that no, he didn't really understand after all. He took another sip from his glass, the straw floating so high inside that it was almost falling out. "If jamaharon isn't about sex, then what is it, exactly? Because I am very confused," Parsons said, his pitch hitting the upper range of his nasally voice.

"Jamaharon is about celebrating the joy of physical discovery. Of encountering something new in the other person that gives them pleasure and, that you in return are discovered. Sure, it's not uncommon for that to lead to sex, but it's not required. You can discover plenty without the act itself. And even if that is where you want to end, it's meant to be drawn out and enjoyed. Reveled in. You can't have that if you don't trust the other person and so horga'hns are a required component to signify initial consent."

Pausing to take a sip of her drink, Irynya carefully considered her next words. "So, to answer your question, of course it's ok to experience jamaharon with a coworker. Do you trust them? If yes, then you're good to go. You're not going into jamaharon to create a new romantic relationship, you're doing it to celebrate your body and theirs."

"Hmm," Parsons sipped again, eyeing Dravor before looking again to Irynya. "So you're saying that, as long as I'm not looking for a romantic interlude, Dravor and I could have mad, passionate sex that curls our toes and then just go back to working together?" The awkward young man turned to the Trill at his side and hmm'd again. "What do you think of that? I mean, generally speaking. I haven't officially propositioned you yet. But I am holding this lil' guy," Parsons chuckled nervously, patting the little statue Irynya had given him. It seemed like perhaps Parson's drink was beginning to kick in as well -- his cheeks had become flushed, likely due to the conversation and the pungent punch now half-drunk from his glass.

Irynya couldn't help a small well of satisfaction that uncurled itself in her chest as Parsons seemed to pick up the thread of what she was suggesting and ran with it. He may have been awkward, but it seemed being given license to proceed by a Risian colleague, not to mention the highly effective alcoholic content of the Risian Sunrise, had given him a boost of confidence.

"I think that's as close to an official proposition as you'll get Tamblem," she said quietly with a chuckle before turning to face the bar herself and give the two men a moment to confer without an audience.

Tamblem, who had spent the exchange sipping his cocktail, grinned, "I think you are right, Irynya." Standing, he plucked the statue from Sheldon and extended a hand, "I accept your unofficial proposition." Smirking, Dravor's dark eyes sparkled in the tiki light, "Toe-curling, you say?"

"I mean..." Parsons looked quickly from Dravor to Irynya and back again, "isn't that the sign of a good...err, time? So many people are all about the leg-pop when kissing," the prissy engineer said, mimicking the gesture seen in all of the greatest romance films. He looked vaguely ridiculous kissing "up" at the air, pretending to hold someone as he "popped" his right leg -- lifting his heel so that it looked like an autonomic reaction to great kissing. But then Parsons shook his head and rolled his eyes. "That's for juveniles. No," he chuckled awkwardly, "it's all about the toe curling. And I guess the tongue curling to make the toe curling?"

He reached forward, taking Dravor's hand and accepting the acceptance of the proposal he hadn't officially made but still somehow ended up in. Parsons' brain was practically on fire with thought trains gone out of control as he was led away for a night of physical intimacy and spiritual fun. Or was it the other way around? And would he have to take all of his clothes off? What if Dravor didn't like the undergarment he'd chosen? Did his uniform boots have a smell given the extreme humidity of Risa? What Ifs steamrolled his brain but the young engineer kept walking after the young Trill, staring back at Irynya as if to say "What have I done?!"

Irynya grinned broadly as Parson's glanced back at her a mixture of panic and glee racing across his features. Chuckling despite herself she raised her hand waggling only her fingers in a wave. And then she winked.

The men were quickly out of sight and she turned back to the bar with a sigh. Her horga'hn otherwise in use she tipped her drink back and waved the bartender down one more time. Jamaharon had been a long shot for her tonight anyway, she might as well at least enjoy the drinks. Ordering another Risian Sunrise she settled in to people watch with a little sigh.

Maybe tomorrow?

=/\= A mission post by =/\=

Lieutenant JG Irynya (Beth's NPC)
Flight Officer
Unassigned

Ensign Tamblem Dravor (Reece's NPC)
Security Officer
Unassigned

Ensign Sheldon Parsons (Brad's NPC)
Engineering Officer
Unassigned