His now-nude escort looked up at him with innocent doe eyes. “What are you waiting for, Will? Musical accompaniment?”
She laughed lightly, turned, and headed toward the hangers, her dimpled backside swaying cheerfully back and forth. And now Riker saw, to his utter shock, that all of the guests were stripping off their clothes and placing them on the hangers provided.
Gart, who was naked and holding his clothes draped over one arm, looked at Riker sympathetically. “I’m very sorry, Lieutenant. They should have told you. Perhaps Mark Roper was concerned that, if you knew, you wouldn’t be interested in attending.”
Riker’s mouth was working, but at first he couldn’t get any words to come out. Finally he managed to stammer, “Is this …standard?”
“Oh, yes,” said Gart calmly. “At a Betazed wedding, the bride, groom, wedding party, and guests all attend nude.”
“Why?”
“To symbolize that, physically and spiritually, there is nothing to hide. That all are sharing in complete cooperation in the spirit of harmony and unity.”
Riker had a feeling that all the blood had drained from his face. “Well…” He cleared his throat, unsure of what he should do. Starfleet protocol required cooperation with local mores and customs wherever possible, so long as no violation of the Prime Directive was involved. There was nothing in the Prime Directive about getting naked in front of over one hundred strangers, so he was clear on that score. But even so…
“Lieutenant,” said Gart, trying not to show as much amusement as he was clearly experiencing. “If you don’t go naked, I assure you, no one will think the less of you. We believe in not asking more of an individual than he is capable of giving. This is a time of celebration, not embarrassment. Attend the wedding in whatever manner you will feel the most comfortable.”
“I don’t want to insult anyone…” said Riker uncertainly.
“Nor will anyone take offense. Now, if you’ll excuse me…I have guests to attend to.” Gart walked to the hangers, leaving Riker alone in the middle of a room of stripping people.
Wendy walked back up to Riker and looked at him reprovingly. She placed her hands on her hips in a fashion that was probably chosen to look especially provocative. “What’s this, Will? Having trouble? Here…I’ll help.” She reached up to the fastenings on his uniform.
He grabbed her wrists, though not particularly hard. Through a tight smile he said, “You could have told me beforehand, you know.”
“What?” She looked shocked. “And miss the opportunity to see your expression?”
“You’ve seen it. How did it rate?”
“I think you’d look at a firing squad of Klingons with less trepidation than you’re looking at a bunch of naked people.”
“At least with the firing squad, I’d have a bit of warning.”
“Oh, Will.” Now she was grinning widely. “Come on. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Then she paused and raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. “Do you?”
“No!” said Riker a bit too loudly, so he repeated, “No,” but more softly this time.
“Well then…?”
“Well, to be honest…” He put his fingers to his forehead, trying to figure the best way to put it. “I’ve never been in a position where I’m trying to maintain my dignity and status as a Starfleet officer without benefit of the uniform…or anything else.”
“Then don’t worry about your position. Worry about joining in the celebration. Look…if you don’t want to strip, then don’t. Come in anyway.”
“Okay. Fine. Thanks for understanding.”
He went in with her to the chapel, and the full fragrance of the flowers wafted through the air. It was as if he’d stepped out from the city and straight into the jungle.
Wendy guided him to an aisle seat about halfway down. He looked around.
Naked people to the right of him, and to the left. In front and behind.
Everyone seemed utterly casual, even oblivious of their nudity. No one was tense or embarrassed. In fact, they seemed even more relaxed than they had been outside. Even men and women who, by the standards of the human ideal, would have been far better served wearing clothes (if not pup tents) weren’t the least bit bothered by their nudity.
He felt as if everyone were staring at him. Riker knew they weren’t, of course…but he felt that way.
Turning to Wendy, he said, “Excuse me…be right back,” and he got up and walked out before she could ask him where he was going.
She sat there, staring at his empty chair, nodding and smiling to the other people, and wondering where in hell Riker had gone off to. Then she heard him say, “Thanks for saving my seat.”
She looked up and grinned. “So you decided to join the party after all.”
He sat down next to her, not precisely sure how to place his bare legs. He wound up just sitting with them flat, his hands on his thighs. He noted for the first time that the seats were nicely cushioned, for which he was grateful. Cold metal would not have been especially appreciated right about then.
Wendy leaned over and said softly into his ear, “You were right, by the way…you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
He liked the tone of her voice as she said it…it had a certain degree of promise to it. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”
She sat back and said, “I’m not sure why you were so nervous. I mean, what did you think was going to happen? Women were going to point and laugh?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a different situation for me, that’s all. I thought people might say things that made me feel self-conscious.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. Like what?”
An older Betazoid woman was being guided toward the front by Gart Xerx. Riker assumed that it was probably his mother, or perhaps a great-aunt. She stopped, looked at Riker, and frowned. “You human men are very hairy. Why is that?”
Xerx rolled his eyes in mild mortification. Wendy put her hand over her mouth to cover her grin.
But Riker, nonplussed, merely said, “Traction.”
Wendy emitted a quick burst of laughter, which she just as quickly stifled. Xerx was grinning openly. The old woman looked at Riker through narrowed eyes and then allowed herself to be led away.
“Traction?” whispered Wendy.
“I had to say something.”
“Well, what you said was wonderful. You see? And you were worried that you wouldn’t be able to maintain your dignity while naked. You handled that in a very dignified manner.”
“Thank you.”
Wendy appeared to be sizing him up for a moment, and then she coyly fingered a strand of his chest hair.
Riker crossed his legs.
At that moment, the ceremony started…a moment marked by the sound of a very loud gong.
The lieutenant focused his attention toward the front of the wedding sanctuary.
The wedding party was entering, and yes, they were naked as well. From one side of the sanctuary entered the groom, in the lead, followed by his mother.
To Riker’s surprise, the mother was pulling on his arm, trying to stop him. He ignored her, taking one implacable step after the other, toward the middle of the room. Into his path stepped a man whom Riker assumed to be his father. The father raised a hand, putting his palm up, signaling the groom to stop. The groom took his father by the forearm and shoved him aside…not roughly, and in fact, Riker saw that the groom was taking care not to make the action too violent, for fear of actually causing the older man to stumble.
“Symbolic, I take it,” Riker said in a low voice to Wendy. She nodded confirmation.
The groom stopped in front of a clergyman (presumably), who stood dead center of the room with a long scroll between his hands. They looked off to the right, and now the parents of the bride entered—the bride’s mother sobbing loudly onto the shoulder of Gart Xerx. Too loudly—clearly more symbolism, but Riker thought the mother might be playing it up just a bit too much even for something that was supposed to be repr
esentational.
And then the bride walked in. The bride…
Walked…
Riker blinked in that way people do when they’re not entirely sure they’re seeing what their eyes are telling them they’re seeing.
She was gorgeous.
Her eyes were the most luminous that Riker had ever seen. She held her pointed chin in an almost aristocratic manner, and her dark hair hung in thick ringlets around her head. Her neck was slender, and her figure…well, as they said in old detective novels, her body had the kind of curves that, if you were a car, made 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 sound 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 word 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 d’ 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—to a 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, Will? 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 tosses 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.
Fourteen
“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 fazed 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 midafternoon?”
“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—that’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.”