every bulge, then reminded herself of her goal for the evening. No self-disparaging thoughts or statements.
Ghost had warned her there would be consequences for any slip-ups.
In the entry, the slender security guard at the desk had a Vulcan’s pointed ears and wore a Star Trek uniform. He held up one hand in the Vulcan greeting. “Live long and lustily.”
Linda widened her eyes. “My dear Spock, how your attitude about sex has changed.”
As the guard laughed, Valerie smiled. When young, she’d watched reruns of the classic Star Trek shows. Later, she and her children enjoyed the newer series and the movies.
Tonight was going to be so much fun. As she signed in, she told the guard, “Your costume is great.”
“Thanks.” The slender guard grinned. “The manager gave me tomorrow night off so I can show it off and participate inside. Somehow, he figured out I’m a Trekkie.”
“Ghost seems as perceptive as Master Z,” Linda said.
“Love your dress, by the way,” the guard told Valerie.
“Thank you.” Coming from a Star Trek fan, the compliment meant a lot. “I’m glad it works.” A present from Ghost, the red vinyl dress was skintight through the torso, flared slightly in the skirt part, and ended only a few inches below her ass—because the females’ crew uniforms on the original Enterprise were all about the minidresses.
The long sleeves ended with narrow, gold wrist cuffs to show her rank as a lieutenant.
The neckline was so low-cut it had barely left room for the Star Trek delta insignia.
“You look fantastic.” Linda’s lips quirked. “But if you take a deep breath, your breasts are going to pop right out of your dress.”
“Great, now I’m going to worry all night.” Valerie tugged at the neckline. “Are you sure it’s Sam who’s the sadist?”
Laughing, Linda led the way in.
“Wow, I didn’t expect all this.” A few steps inside the door, Valerie almost got a crick in her neck from trying to take it all in.
There were aliens everywhere, especially on the dance floor. Some of the Ferengi appeared ready to start an orgy on the spot.
“This place is packed.” Linda had a wide smile on her face. “Tabitha told me there’d been no theme nights since Z went to Europe. I think everyone must have missed them.”
The enthusiasm was contagious—as was the sense of welcome. “The club feels different.”
Linda’s smile widened. “You noticed. Yes, this is what it felt like before Wrecker. Oh, not all the time, but people tended to be…well, friendly.”
“The bullies made the atmosphere ugly.” Valerie checked out the room. “Because the nice people—like me—don’t realize we have to step up and take them to task, even if it means being rude. I’ve learned something about the dangers of being too polite.”
“I think we all did.”
Valerie’s gaze caught on a short brunette. “Is that Sally?” The first scene area past the dance floor was the bridge of the Enterprise. Instrument panels made a semi-circle around the captain’s chair.
Linda gave a low laugh. “The poor baby.”
In a short-skirted uniform, Sally was tied to a seat at the navigation station.
“Stop chattering, ensign.” In the captain’s chair, Master Vance scowled at her, then asked his partner, “What do you think, Mr. Spock?”
Master Galen stood near an instrument panel. Pointy ears and slanting eyebrows added to his black hair and black eyes made him into a perfect Vulcan. “Captain, I fear Ensign Sally has been possessed by an Organian. According to my calculations, a beating of exactly ten point two minutes should exorcise the alien and drive it back to its planet.”
Sally squeaked. “Wait. No way—no, Captain! I’m not, you can’t…”
“I’m sorry, Ensign,” Captain Kirk gave her an oh-so-sympathetic shake of the head. “Sacrifices must be made if we’re to ensure the safety of the crew.”
Sally was still pleading as Spock and Kirk led her away.
Another group with what looked like Chekov, Sulu, and Kirk moved in. Chekov’s uniform pants covered a very big bulge.
“No, no, no,” Valerie murmured to Linda. “I can see Kirk as being a kinky perv, but not sweet Chekov.”
“It’s mind-bending,” Linda agreed, then motioned to their right. “Those two picked the perfect characters.”
Mistress Anne was dressed as the Borg queen and wearing a bald cap to hide her hair. She had a grip on Ben’s shirt and was dragging him toward a scene that resembled an evil engineer’s workshop.
“A man’s pride ‘n’ joys shouldn’t be turned into machine parts,” Ben protested in a low growl.
“Resistance is futile, boy.” Anne’s smile was evil. “I will ensure your weak