Post by Scribe on May 13, 2011 3:08:35 GMT -5
NEW EARTH COLONY, GAIA
EVENING
5 June, ‘69
"Come on, where are you taking me, eh?" Officially thirty-two years old on this day, Mason couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. "Strip club? Dance club with the private rooms in the back? Going to get me so drunk and shit faced that I'll end up being of no use to anyone and the promise of girl hunting will go to hell?" A nudge to his medical advisor, McCulloch couldn't help but add, "Do I have a doctor's clearance for being out this late, while not on shore leave?"
"Sure," Stark grinned as he walked along the road with the pilot who had become slightly less irritating than most of the people he had known in recent times. "I'll write you a note saying you got a case of the crabs and the treatment will make the little buggers jump off and latch onto anyone else. Trust me, they wouldn't care if you decided to go to Romulus after that."
McCulloch shook his head and chuckled, "I should have found myself a medical connection long before the War." It had been a long time since birthdays had any meaning anymore, as the past two years were more about survival, battle and more than any one near-extinct species should have to worry about. "Where are we going?"
"I was going to take you to Ruby's Bar but that's where all the straights go," he threw the man an entirely wicked smirk. "So I figured Yukovski's place, you know the Outpost, private room, a couple of girls who'll pour you drinks into your mouth from their cleavage. That place is good for private audiences. I heard a rumour once that the Governor banged his wife there."
He was about to give Stark hell for the gay commentary but liquid gold from flesh chalices worked for Mason. "You know the right prescription to write Doc." Looking ahead, Yukovski's place was seen in the distance. "I can't imagine Old Man Hayes banging anyone, especially in a seedy bar, but if you would have asked me five years ago if he even did woman, I would have said no." The precursor shots before leaving on the prowl were kicking in.
"Have you seen her?" Stark remarked as they approached the seedy lights of the Outpost. "She's really that red. I have friends in pubic places, they've confirmed it." Stark had no shame and frankly after two marriages with what he considered women whose toxicity would give napalm a complex, he had very little patience for women, the other 23 hours and 45 minutes of the day where they weren't useful in the sack.
"That's funny. Pubic places," he tried to picture the Governor's wife banging half the medical team until it dawned on him. "Aw, shit. You mean like that woman doctor crap. An exam? Awww." With a shake of his head, Mason pushed open the doors and entered, looking around to see if Stark ordered him a surprise harem.
"They're not in here," he gestured to a backroom, giving Hunter a little nod at the bar as they walked past. "We don't want to make the other boys jealous of our toys." Stark replied, hands digging into the pockets of his dark slacks. "These girls would like to ride stick on a pilot, I figured you'd appreciate that."
"Oh god," This was by far, the nicest present anyone had ever gotten him. "Are you really serious?" The smile on his face only grew. "I was kidding before, but. Wow. How many? Two? Four?" No matter how many girls, even if it was just one, this beat out the new shirt his parents gave him earlier in the evening. Too bad their present was going to end up crumpled on the floor before it was worn for an hour.
"Three," he said with a malicious grin. "The only thing you can say to a girl that will get you laid guaranteed, other than 'Hi I'm a doctor' is "Hi, I'm the head space jock of the NX-01." He grinned as he walked to the backroom, where awaiting him was a trio of buxomy women no older than 22, not a brain among them but that was not required for this evening.
Once upon a time the phrase 'war hero' meant something, but not since the Great War where near everybody held that title. Head Space Jock of the NX-01 was a line he hadn't exactly used yet, although that didn't mean a variation or ten hadn't sprung up creatively over the years. "Hi." He looked first at the dark haired, blue eyed girl and her incredibly enhanced tits. "I'm the head space jock." Jock rhymed with, his eyes were caught by the blonde in the middle, toying with both hands down the front of her lower lace, " of the Enterprise." They didn't look smart enough to know what the NX-01 even was, but Mason didn't care. Right now, all he cared about was acting about as brainless as Stark promised them to be. "NX-01. It's a star ship."
Mason was in fucking heaven. "I'm a pilot."
"Oooh Dr. Stark," the blond giggled and as she did so most of her boobs jiggled in the scrap of fabric called a tank top, "you didn't lie. He is awfully cute!" She teased a finger nail between her teeth as she eyed Mason like he was the main course at a banquet.
"Ladies," Stark's hand patting Mason's shoulder like he was a man in need of sympathy. "Commander McCulloch was injured in the war and he just doesn't know if everything is..." he glanced at the man's groin. "Working the way it used to. You might need to use those charms for medicinal purpose, so he can go out to defend Gaia against all enemies.”
"Oh of course," the blond said practically spilling onto Mason, "anything I can do for Gaia and you sugar..."
For only a moment Mason turned his head and looked at Stark like he was the best damn person he'd ever met, but then his eye caught the awaiting red head. And then he felt Misty's hand reach on down to grab him. "Wh, ooh." The red head and the brunette didn't exist for a moment. Neither did Stark. "Civilian public service commencement for the great good of Gaia... " He had no idea what he was saying and planted his hands on her body in response, finding her tank top moved out of the way without protest. Flimsy cheap thing. Himself? The girl? The top? Did it really matter?
Stark picked up the champagne bottle and poured Mason a glass, moving over the backroom to ensure the door was shut to guarantee privacy. Meanwhile, the brunette named Nicki was busily exploring the soft space between Mason's neck and shoulder nipping lightly before lifting to her ear, "I suppose it might take all three of us to get a rise out of you Commander."
"It just might," he drank back the drink, closed his eyes and welcomed the overwhelming rubbing and kissing. If there was a way to not react to their touches, Mason would have done it to make them work harder but he was already boozed up mighty fine and reality wasn't a place he wanted to visit.
McCulloch was checked off on the top one hundred chart ‘most likely to die’ list six months back. He deserved to feel like this.
Easing into the cushioned seat, Stark held the glass of champagne to his lips and toasted Mason as he was on the verge of being the last ingredient in a banana split, "Happy birthday flyboy."
End
EVENING
5 June, ‘69
"Come on, where are you taking me, eh?" Officially thirty-two years old on this day, Mason couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. "Strip club? Dance club with the private rooms in the back? Going to get me so drunk and shit faced that I'll end up being of no use to anyone and the promise of girl hunting will go to hell?" A nudge to his medical advisor, McCulloch couldn't help but add, "Do I have a doctor's clearance for being out this late, while not on shore leave?"
"Sure," Stark grinned as he walked along the road with the pilot who had become slightly less irritating than most of the people he had known in recent times. "I'll write you a note saying you got a case of the crabs and the treatment will make the little buggers jump off and latch onto anyone else. Trust me, they wouldn't care if you decided to go to Romulus after that."
McCulloch shook his head and chuckled, "I should have found myself a medical connection long before the War." It had been a long time since birthdays had any meaning anymore, as the past two years were more about survival, battle and more than any one near-extinct species should have to worry about. "Where are we going?"
"I was going to take you to Ruby's Bar but that's where all the straights go," he threw the man an entirely wicked smirk. "So I figured Yukovski's place, you know the Outpost, private room, a couple of girls who'll pour you drinks into your mouth from their cleavage. That place is good for private audiences. I heard a rumour once that the Governor banged his wife there."
He was about to give Stark hell for the gay commentary but liquid gold from flesh chalices worked for Mason. "You know the right prescription to write Doc." Looking ahead, Yukovski's place was seen in the distance. "I can't imagine Old Man Hayes banging anyone, especially in a seedy bar, but if you would have asked me five years ago if he even did woman, I would have said no." The precursor shots before leaving on the prowl were kicking in.
"Have you seen her?" Stark remarked as they approached the seedy lights of the Outpost. "She's really that red. I have friends in pubic places, they've confirmed it." Stark had no shame and frankly after two marriages with what he considered women whose toxicity would give napalm a complex, he had very little patience for women, the other 23 hours and 45 minutes of the day where they weren't useful in the sack.
"That's funny. Pubic places," he tried to picture the Governor's wife banging half the medical team until it dawned on him. "Aw, shit. You mean like that woman doctor crap. An exam? Awww." With a shake of his head, Mason pushed open the doors and entered, looking around to see if Stark ordered him a surprise harem.
"They're not in here," he gestured to a backroom, giving Hunter a little nod at the bar as they walked past. "We don't want to make the other boys jealous of our toys." Stark replied, hands digging into the pockets of his dark slacks. "These girls would like to ride stick on a pilot, I figured you'd appreciate that."
"Oh god," This was by far, the nicest present anyone had ever gotten him. "Are you really serious?" The smile on his face only grew. "I was kidding before, but. Wow. How many? Two? Four?" No matter how many girls, even if it was just one, this beat out the new shirt his parents gave him earlier in the evening. Too bad their present was going to end up crumpled on the floor before it was worn for an hour.
"Three," he said with a malicious grin. "The only thing you can say to a girl that will get you laid guaranteed, other than 'Hi I'm a doctor' is "Hi, I'm the head space jock of the NX-01." He grinned as he walked to the backroom, where awaiting him was a trio of buxomy women no older than 22, not a brain among them but that was not required for this evening.
Once upon a time the phrase 'war hero' meant something, but not since the Great War where near everybody held that title. Head Space Jock of the NX-01 was a line he hadn't exactly used yet, although that didn't mean a variation or ten hadn't sprung up creatively over the years. "Hi." He looked first at the dark haired, blue eyed girl and her incredibly enhanced tits. "I'm the head space jock." Jock rhymed with, his eyes were caught by the blonde in the middle, toying with both hands down the front of her lower lace, " of the Enterprise." They didn't look smart enough to know what the NX-01 even was, but Mason didn't care. Right now, all he cared about was acting about as brainless as Stark promised them to be. "NX-01. It's a star ship."
Mason was in fucking heaven. "I'm a pilot."
"Oooh Dr. Stark," the blond giggled and as she did so most of her boobs jiggled in the scrap of fabric called a tank top, "you didn't lie. He is awfully cute!" She teased a finger nail between her teeth as she eyed Mason like he was the main course at a banquet.
"Ladies," Stark's hand patting Mason's shoulder like he was a man in need of sympathy. "Commander McCulloch was injured in the war and he just doesn't know if everything is..." he glanced at the man's groin. "Working the way it used to. You might need to use those charms for medicinal purpose, so he can go out to defend Gaia against all enemies.”
"Oh of course," the blond said practically spilling onto Mason, "anything I can do for Gaia and you sugar..."
For only a moment Mason turned his head and looked at Stark like he was the best damn person he'd ever met, but then his eye caught the awaiting red head. And then he felt Misty's hand reach on down to grab him. "Wh, ooh." The red head and the brunette didn't exist for a moment. Neither did Stark. "Civilian public service commencement for the great good of Gaia... " He had no idea what he was saying and planted his hands on her body in response, finding her tank top moved out of the way without protest. Flimsy cheap thing. Himself? The girl? The top? Did it really matter?
Stark picked up the champagne bottle and poured Mason a glass, moving over the backroom to ensure the door was shut to guarantee privacy. Meanwhile, the brunette named Nicki was busily exploring the soft space between Mason's neck and shoulder nipping lightly before lifting to her ear, "I suppose it might take all three of us to get a rise out of you Commander."
"It just might," he drank back the drink, closed his eyes and welcomed the overwhelming rubbing and kissing. If there was a way to not react to their touches, Mason would have done it to make them work harder but he was already boozed up mighty fine and reality wasn't a place he wanted to visit.
McCulloch was checked off on the top one hundred chart ‘most likely to die’ list six months back. He deserved to feel like this.
Easing into the cushioned seat, Stark held the glass of champagne to his lips and toasted Mason as he was on the verge of being the last ingredient in a banana split, "Happy birthday flyboy."
End