you want to hug the road.
Thoughts of what he would like to do with that body ran
rampant through his imaginings, but he had to tell
himself that, for crying out loud, she was taken. She was
the bride. She was about to get married. She--
She stepped aside and gestured to a young woman
who was seated in the front row.
"I summon you to the place of marriage," she
said. Her voice was low and musical and had an
exotic accent that Riker had never heard before. It
sounded vaguely like a combination of three Middle
European intonations, and yet a bit different.
The young woman rose. She had blond hair,
tied back in a white band. She took the hand of the
woman who had "summoned" her and stepped up to the
side of the groom. They took each other's hands
and turned to face the clergyman ...
And that was when, belatedly, it hit Riker. The
brunette wasn't the bride. She was some sort
of equivalent of the maid of honor.
Unbidden, uncensored, thoughts about getting to know
the maid of honor on a variety of levels
stampeded back through his mind. His eyes drank her
in hungrily as she stood with her back to him. The
sumptuous lines of her hips, the elegant arch
of her spine, and the way her shoulder blades
played against the skin ... and the way the light shined
off that skin ... the richness of her smile ...
Her smile.
Her back was to him but he could see her smile
...
Because she'd turned her head.
And she was looking at him.
Right at him.
At him. And smiling.
Oh, my God, he thought, she knows
what I'm thinking. She knows what I'd ...
Wendy looked at him and saw that his face had
gone several shades of red. "Will ... are you
okay?"
"I'm fine." His voice was thick and hoarse.
It didn't even sound remotely like his. "Just
fine."
"You sure? You're sweating."
"It's hot in here. That's all. Just hot."
She was still smiling at him, for what seemed
to Riker to be an eternity. Her bosom
(God, her bosom) shook slightly in what
he took to be (correctly) silent laughter.
And then, mercifully, she turned away from him and
put her attention back on the ceremony.
Riker didn't hear a ^w of the rest of the
proceedings. He had his own proceedings in mind.
The only question was how best to proceed with the
proceedings.
A reception had been arranged out in a garden
behind the chapel. Large lights had been set up
that flooded the evening with illumination.
Riker paid absolutely no attention to the
types of food he was eating or how much ...
indeed, he would pay for it later that night with a
major bellyache. For now, though, he popped
various hors do'oeuvres into his mouth, one after
the other, but his mind was elsewhere.
The guests were now all clothed, and the fact that
Riker had his uniform back on was something of a
blessing. It enabled him to--ffa degree--put his
mind on autopilot, speaking pleasantly and
adroitly to all those who approached him in his
capacity as representative of the UFP. He
wondered if they were aware that his thoughts were only
partly on his surroundings.
His eyes kept scanning the crowd for some sign
of the maid of honor. The bride and groom
hadn't materialized either--apparently there was
ceremony and delay involved in this, too.
He couldn't get her out of his mind. He had
encountered so many women in his lifetime, and yet when
he had seen her, there had been something ... something
he couldn't put his finger on. It was almost as if
he knew her somehow, from somewhere.
But he had never seen her before. He was sure that
he hadn't. Hell, she wasn't even the kind of
female that he usually considered his "type." But
there was something about her that--
A burst of applause brought his attention
back to focus, and there she was. She had emerged
from the chapel with the bride and groom, and several
other friends of the newlywed couple were crowding around
them, congratulating them, laughing and smiling.
He waited for the maid of honor to look his
way, to catch his gaze. But she didn't. In
fact, she seemed to look everywhere except in his
direction. He wasn't sure if this was
intentional or not. Whatever it was, it was damned
frustrating.
There was a tap on his shoulder. He turned and
Wendy was looking up at him with those large doe
eyes of hers. "Is there some problem, W? You
seem to have time for everyone except me, and I'm
supposed to be your date."
"No problem. No problem at all." He
draped an arm around her and kept her close to him
the remainder of the time. Almost as if she were a
shield; a reminder that there were plenty of other
women in the galaxy.
Almost as if he were a little afraid of the way that
the young Betazoid maid of honor had gotten
to him.
It was crazy. He didn't know her ... not
at all. Oh, sure, he knew she looked good
naked--okay, great naked--okay, spectacular
beyond belief naked--but even so, nothing about her could
account for this feeling of urgency he had whenever he
looked at her. This feeling that he had to get to know
her better.
"Do you believe in love at first sight?" he
asked Wendy.
"Nope. I think you can look at someone and be
attracted on a physical level. That's
easy. But true, genuine love? No. You can
even be attracted to someone and fall in love with
them subsequently. That doesn't make it love
at first sight though. That just makes it ... I
don't know ... fortuitous infatuation."
"Absolutely right." He even felt a
measure of relief. Here was someone to throw a
bucket of cold reality into an unreal situation.
"I feel the same way. You find something, you
study it, you draw conclusions, and you proceed. You
don't just leap into something on blind faith."
"Will," Wendy said, smiling coyly, "is this
your way of telling me that you find me
attractive? I mean ... what are you saying?
That you think you might be falling in love with me at
first sight?"
"Of course not. I thought we agreed ...
there's no such thing. Don't you remember?"
"Ooooh, yes. So we did."
All the young women were clustering together now,
including the maid of honor. Riker watched with
curiosity and Wendy said, "You know the old Earth
custom of the bride throwing the bouquet?"
"Yes."
"Well, there's something similar here. Except
it's not a bouquet. The bride wears a
white band in her hair, and she t
osses that."
"Oh."
Chandra, the bride, stood with her back to the young
women and after a moment of hesitation tossed the
headband over her right shoulder. It fluttered through the
air toward the throng of grasping hands, and one
pair of hands snatched it from its flight. There was
a burst of applause as the maid of honor
came up with it triumphantly.
"Oh, how nice! Deanna caught it," said
Wendy. "She and Chandra have been friends for years."
"Deanna?"
"Deanna Troi. She was the maid of
honor."
"Was she?" said Riker with very carefully
cultivated neutrality in his voice.
So carefully, in fact, that it drew a
strange look from Wendy. "Yes, that's right.
I'm surprised you don't remember."
"Well, you know how it is ... all naked
bodies tend to blend in with each other. So what
does catching the white cloth signify? That
she's the next to get married?"
"No. What it means is that the great love of
her life is at this gathering."
"How romantic." Riker found himself turning
the full force of his gaze, of his every thought,
directly at the young woman who he now knew was
called Deanna Troi.
She did not so much as glance his way the rest of the
evening.
CHAPTER 14
"You could have told me, you know."
Mark Roper looked up at Lieutenant
Riker and grinned. "Good morning, Captain."
"Don't call me that." Riker's stomach
felt achy, which matched the condition of his head.
"Why didn't you tell me that no one wore
clothes at the wedding?"
Roper sat back in his chair and looked with
mild scorn in Riker's direction. "Oh, come
now, Captain. All throughout Starfleet they teach
you how to adapt and deal with the unexpected. I'd have
thought that you wouldn't be phased for a moment by the
situation."
"They didn't cover stripping in Starfleet
Academy." Riker sagged into the chair
opposite Roper.
"Maybe you should suggest it be added to the
curriculum," Roper said helpfully.
"I'll do that," lied Riker.
"Wendy was, I take it, an excellent
companion?"
"Very socially adept."
"Did you take her to bed with you?"
Riker's jaw dropped as he stared at
Roper's mirthful expression. "What is it with
this planet?" said Riker incredulously.
"Casual nudity. Fathers inquiring about the
sexual activities of their daughters first thing
in the morning ..."
"Would you prefer I wait until midafn?"
"Mr. Roper," Riker said after a moment,
"I really don't think it's any of your
business."
"Riker, Riker, Riker. You don't understand.
I'll find out anyway. My daughter and I have
a very open relationship. We've learned that
technique from our stay here on Betazed. Honesty
--t's the key whenever possible. And if you and my
daughter enjoyed each other, then I'll take
pleasure in that enjoyment."
Riker stared at him. "You know ... I never
thought of myself as a prude, by any stretch of the
imagination. But in comparison to what goes on with you
people here ... I feel positively archaic."
"You'll get used to freedom. Everyone does
after a while. Sometimes it just takes a bit of
adjusting, is all."
"All right, then. For the record ... no, I
did not take your daughter to bed. Nor did she
take me. It was late, we were tired ..."
And I couldn't get Deanna Troi out of
my mind. But he didn't say that part, though.
"Whatever," said Roper casually. "My
daughter is a perfectly capable young woman.
I trust her decisions whenever she makes them, and
whomever she makes them with." He paused. "That
Chandra Xerx was quite a lovely bride, I'll
wager."
"Yes. Yes, she was." This was the perfect
opportunity to bring up what he was really thinking
about. "So was her maid of honor ... what was her
name? Donna? Dena?"
"Deanna? Deanna Troi?"
"That's right," said Riker, hoping that his affected
casual air was remotely convincing. "That was the
name I heard mentioned. Deanna
Troi."
"Lovely girl. Just lovely. Now what is
she up to these days?" Roper glanced outside for a
long moment, as if the answers he sought were in the
clouds. Perhaps they in fact were, because he turned
back to Riker and said, "Psychology student.
That's it. Over at the university. Near the top
of her class ... I should remember that since
Lwaxana's always boasting about her."
"Lwaxana is her mother?"
"Ohhhh, yes. Quite a character, that one. You know the
old axiom about how, if you want to get a
feeling for what the daughter will be like twenty,
thirty years down the road ... all you have to do
is look at the mother?"
"Yes."
"Case in point."
Riker looked surprised. "What, is she that
ugly?"
"Lwaxana? Oh, not by any means. In
fact, she's a very striking woman. Quite
attractive, and she knows how to use her
appearance to her advantage. But she can be very ...
overpowering."
"Overpowering in what sense?" But before Roper
could respond, Riker added, "Wait ...
Wendy was talking about a small percentage of
Betazoids who are, telepathically, pretty
formidable."
"She may have been speaking specifically about
Lwaxana," Roper affirmed. "I think
"formidable"' is a perfectly apt
description. For that matter, according to what Wendy's
told me ... and believe me, that girl is up
on all the latest scuttlebutt ... if you
happen to be a suitor, then Lwaxana can be
downright intimidating. Poor Deanna doesn't
see much in the way of a social life."
"What a waste."
His tone of voice had slipped more than he'd
have liked. Roper looked at him with a cunning
expression. "You're interested in her, aren't you."
"Mark, I don't even know her."
"You're dodging the question."
"No, I'm not. How can I possibly
decide if I'm interested in someone if I
haven't even exchanged ten ^ws with her."
Roper looked wistful. "Other than my
marriage, the most memorable relationship I had
in my life involved a young woman and
an exchange of less than five ^ws." He
regarded Riker. "That, of course, was when I was
a very young man. Vital, alive, and feeling my
oats. Much as you are now."
"My oats are reined in, thank you, Mark,"
Riker told him firmly. He stood and said,
"If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with the
commanding officer of the security team."
"Sergeant Tang? Good
man. He knows his
stuff." Roper swiveled the computer screen around
to check his itinerary for the day. "Give him my
regards."
"I will."
"And I hope I didn't offend you with my
observations about young Troi."
"Not at all," said Riker, heading for the door.
"But to be perfectly honest, I have far more on my
mind right now than Deanna Troi."
"I'm sure you do. You know where the university
is?"
"No, but it shouldn't be hard to find ..." And
then Riker's voice trailed off as he realized
what he was saying. He turned back to Roper and
said, "That is, of course, if I were interested in
finding it."
"Of course," said Roper calmly. "If you
were interested. Which you're not."
"Not at all."
"Glad to hear it."
CHAPTER 15
Deanna Troi walked across the campus, her
thoughts still on the topics they'd been discussing so
forcefully in her psychological ethics class.
So she paid no attention whatsoever to the young, dashing
Starfleet officer who ever so casually, ever so
coincidentally, strolled past her.
But then a voice called out, "I remember
you."
She stopped in her tracks. She couldn't
place the voice at all, but the sense of the
person behind her was damned familiar. Then she
smiled ... inwardly. I should have expected
this, she thought, and turned slowly.
He walked toward her, making a great show of
trying to place precisely where he recollected
her from. "The wedding yesterday. You were at the wedding,
weren't you."
Slowly she nodded, making sure
to maintain a very carefully constructed air of
disinterest.
He stuck out a hand. "Lt. William t.
Riker, at your service."
She looked at his proffered hand for a moment.
Then extremely carefully, as if handling a
specimen, she took the tips of his fingers in hers
and shook his hand very lightly. "What does the
T stand for?"
"Terrific." He waggled his eyebrows
slightly to put across, just in case she didn't
get it, that he was making a joke.
She got it. But her expression made it quite
clear that she didn't care for it.
Or him.
"I'm new here ... to the planet, I mean
... and I'm just trying to get to know as many of the
residents here as I can."
"I see." She had been holding a computer
padd under her arm. Now she crossed her arms