Joint Personal Log - Capt Ivanova, LtCmdr Waterhouse, Cmdr Dahe'el & Cmdr PontBrillant - "It Was An Itsy Bitsy Teensy Weensy Yellow Polka-Dot Bikini"

Posted on Fri Sep 5th, 2014 @ 6:01pm by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Vlimar PontBrillant & Commander Amelia Waterhouse

2,578 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Are You Touched?

Rochelle had insisted on a beach, which for some reason she'd thought was not to be found in Klingon space, let alone the Klingon home world. How very wrong she'd been, and Amelia had quickly pulled up information on an amazing beach with a resort owned by a very enterprising — and brave — Ferengi. He'd opened the place because Terrans had suddenly found it a very happening thing to do to vacation on Qo'noS, but were having a bit of a culture shock on dealing with the Klingons who actually lived there. The resort served as a haven from the normal Klingon behavior and lack of concessions to comfort.

So now they had plans to take leave at this resort, and Amelia had scoped out the bars nearby in anticipation of entertainment after beach time. She wasn't sure if Rochelle would join her for the bars, but that was okay. Amelia hadn't had any time in a Klingon bar in a while and she would go by herself to get it if she had to. For now, bikini and sunshine with her friend. She rung the chime at Rochelle's quarters and waited outside the door in a lime green bikini, cut off denim shorts and flip flops. Her combadge pinned to her hip, and her hair in one braid down her back.

"Come." Rochelle called, putting together last minute reading and stuffing the PADDs into her travel bag. Ever practical, she buzzed about the large state room in a black single piece swim suit and a sarong as she made sure loose ends were tied up and assuring herself that the Vindicator would survive the next few days without her constant presence.

Amelia strode in, caught sight of Rochelle in the one piece swimsuit, and frowned. "Tell me why you're hiding that hot bod of yours in a one piece?" she demanded, her hand finding her hip.

The shorter of the two redheads froze, "I beg your pardon?" She said, straightening up from where she bent over, watering a plant. The young bonsai had been Landon's, found tucked away in an isolated corner of her quarters and she, ever the bleeding heart when it came to the memory of the Trill, had chosen to keep and nurture it. "I always wear a one piece."

"You're going to wear a bikini. It's a crime against the universe for the likes of us to wear anything more on a beach," she insisted, crossing to the replicator. "Cobalt or cerulean?" she mused, fingertip tapping on her lip as she looked at the firebird Captain.

"Neither." Rochelle all but huffed, "A Captain never wears a string bikini, let lone a Queen." She retorted, half hoping that the other woman would accept such a reply as valid and move on, leaving her to the safety of her modesty. "Besides," She continued, walking off to stow her plant waterer, "Unlike you, I'm about the same color as milk. We'd start a war after blinding a Klingon dignitary if I wore a bikini."

Amelia snorted. "You're not that much lighter than me. And we can get you a sportier cut, doesn't have to be a string bikini. I know, cerulean and black color block halter." Amelia's fingers danced on the replicator controls, and a small bundle of blue and black fabric materialized. She tossed it towards Rochelle.

The little Captain side stepped the garment, "I think not." She replied, watching the offending article hit the floor. Her nose twitched, wrinkling slightly at the suit as she considered it. "May I ask why you're bent on me wearing a bikini?"

"Because," Amelia started, striding across the space between them to bend over and scoop up the wad of blue and black from the floor, "As your lawyer, I advise you to manipulate men into buying your drinks, and enjoy the sand and the sun. Bikinis make that easier." She grinned wide, holding out the garment to her smaller friend.

"My lawyer, huh?" A single, slender sanguine brow arched high over an eye as the little one folded her arms across her chest and studied both the woman and the bikini she held in her hand. Amelia wasn't going to rest. It was obvious that the willowy woman was bent and determined to have her leave in a two piece swim suit of some shape and format — even if they were going down on a Klingon world. She sighed, her eyes rolling. "Turquoise and chocolate. String. Go for broke and damn it, Amelia, if we wind up in hot water because of this, I'll break my foot off in your ass."

"I would expect nothing less," Amelia all but chirped, her grin growing wider as she practical skipped back to the replicator to recycle the blue and black bikini, and search for a pattern suitable for her friend's preferred colors. The swimsuit the replicator offered up was half chocolate brown, and half turquoise, the colors trading sides between the top and the bottom. Amelia held it out to Rochelle triumphantly.

"You're incorrigible." The Captain touted, tapping her foot as she untied her sarong and tossed it over the back of a couch. "Absolutely incorrigible." And with that, she twisted away to her bedroom to shed the practical black one piece and adorn herself with the two piece. She wasn't sure if she was thankful that the turquoise brought attention to her bust instead of her rear end, or mortified. Grabbing a hair clip, she twisted her hair up into a quick bun as she re-appeared back in her living room. "I suppose you're happy now, right?" She stated more than asked, re-tying her sarong around her waist and reaching for an over sized hat.

"As much as I can be without the blood wine, sand, and sun. Let's go create a scandal walking to the transporter room, then go enjoy ourselves," Amelia insisted. She was all but bouncing, she hadn't had a beach day in a while... years even, if you didn't count the holodeck.

Rochelle eyed her excitable friend and shook her head, "Why do I listen to you?" She asked, placing the hat on her head and hiding the rest of her face behind large aviator sunglasses. Secretly she prayed no one recognized her as she grabbed her bag, head for the door and ushered her friend out into the hall.

Amelia's only response was to giggle and collect Rochelle's arm in her own as they headed down the corridor.

The little woman nearly squeaked as she was swept along by her friend, quickly reaching to hold her hat to her head to prevent it from becoming airborne and left behind.

Inside the Turbolift leading to the bridge, Vlimar was waiting for the door to open. He was reviewing some new information that came to his attention, information he wanted to relay to his console directly. As the door opened, Vlimar came face-to-face with the two women, waiting for the turbo lift themselves. He looked at them puzzled for a second, then, recognizing both of them, remained frozen in place.

Rochelle muttered something under her breath vaguely resembling 'oh Jesus' and tugged the front brim of her hat down in a ridiculous attempt to hide. Her state of attire was so very unbecoming, especially around the man who had unwittingly participated in her coronation and, of course, their encounter in the lift. The silence between them, however, felt contrite and unnerving.

Amelia smiled widely as she recognized the wolf in sheep's clothing standing in front of her. She also noticed Rochelle's reaction. She was torn between getting her friend out of there, and flirting. She took half a step between Rochelle and Vlimar, and her smile widened.

"Good afternoon," she chirped.

Vlimar smiled widely. "Good afternoon, indeed," he replied. "Heading on Shore Leave, I can see..." he stated, still not moving from the lift.

"Indeed, looking forward to some sun and sand," Amelia explained, moving into the turbolift. A small tug at the arm she had linked with Rochelle pulled the smaller woman along with her. "Are you scheduled for leave?" she asked Vlimar, keeping herself between him and Rochelle. "Transporter room," she directed the turbo lift.

"Actually, I had no plans, really. Qo'noS has never been my destination of choice..." claimed the Commander, nonchalantly, not leaving the lift. "If you need an escort, I could oblige, I imagine..." he added. He smiled at Amelia while saying that last sentence, prior to giving a head nod to the hiding captain.

"We don't need an escort, but if you wished to give us some company..." Amelia shrugged softly with a smile. "The silly little Ferengi that owns the resort named it Qapla'," she pointed out with an eye roll. "Maybe he was trying to wish himself success at the insane venture?"

"The idea of a resort on Qo'noS is already repulsive to me," he stated. "I would gladly witness the horror..." he added, while smiling widely.

"Something about bad pink stucco is all I remember hearing." Rochelle finally piped in, daring to release the hold on her hat.

Vlimar smiled at Rochelle, who stepped away from her hiding hat. "Well, nice of you to join us, Capitaine.", he stated. "And may I say, you both look absolutely unStarfleetesque, beautiful I must say," he claimed, grinning.

"You asked for sun and sand, Rochelle, I get you sun and sand," Amelia insisted with an eye roll. "I'm sure it will be delightfully horrific. Ferengi have such unique taste." Amelia insisted, even as she blushed at the complement that Vlimar had directed at them both.

"Yeah... With things that bite." She retorted with a little huff and bristled ever so slightly with the suave one's comment washing over her. She eyed him from beneath the big woven brim, her sun glasses concealing the rest, "Beauty is as beauty does, Commander, and it's only in the eye of the beholder."

Vlimar nodded seriously to the comment. "Well, I guess that specific beholder is quite impressed," he replied, while the turbo lift stopped at the transporter room.

"I think we established awhile ago that flattery will get you everywhere." Rochelle's lips formed a bemused little smirk. The Commander was smooth as satin, and just as refined — or so she thought. It was her who stood there awkward and discomforted by her near nakedness in the presence of his appraising eyes. Amelia had never been shy about nudity, or so so many rumors had stated. It must have been nice to hold such ease and confidence, but Rochelle had always been a private person about her figure and her sexuality.

"I hope we see you at the beach later," Amelia insisted to Vlimar as she lead Rochelle out of the turbolift. As she walked away, her braid swung softly above the tattoo that sat just above the waistline of her shorts: a weathered Klingon skull with a missing jaw, above a crossed set of nunchuks with green handles featuring a frosted flame pattern.

"Beyond embarrassing. I'm never letting you talk me into anything ever again." the shorter redhead grumbled as she was lead along not unlike a child. The four beat sound of their flip flops resonated off he bulkheads, immediately reminding her as to why they weren't acceptable forms of footwear. Ever.

"You know you'll have fun," Amelia insisted with a click of her tongue and an eye roll. She resisted the urge to look back over her shoulder at Vlimar as they walked away. Calm and cool is what she'd be, and maybe he'd come join them later?

As the door closed, Vlimar observed Amelia's back as she was moving away from him. Vlimar barked Deck 2, to his quarters, the lift heading back up as the ladies exited. He intended to go to his quarters to change, then join the girls, fashionably later than anticipated.

Standing in the transporter room and waiting, Almar found himself absentmindedly tinkering with some of the workings in one of the auxiliary consoles.

"I wonder how long before Cecil's caught gossiping about our bikinis," Amelia insisted with a laugh as she led Rochelle into the transporter room. Catching sight of Almar, she grinned. "Joining us, Sir?" she teased, knowing full well he was.

"He already is. I'm sure of it." Rochelle replied as they rounded the bend into the transporter room. "Almar." She couldn't help but smile at the familiar sight of his long black hair as he worked on the console, instantly forgetting her horrendously inappropriate state of dress.

"Rochelle," the Cardassian breathed as he took in the sight before him, the redheaded CO had been less than dressed before him before, but never in such a fashion, it took his breath away and he barely noticed the other woman with her.

The little one offered him a smile, a rarity within the weeks that had past since Notura had nearly claimed her. "I take it you're joining us at Qapla'?" She asked, allowing herself to step out from behind Pond if ever so slightly.

"That I am," Almar replied as he closed off the console and stopped his tinkering, flashing a quick smile at the on duty transporter chief, "I have to admit to a slight feeling of apprehension though, Humans gave me quite a beating when I was last on Earth, the Klingons are likely to have a similar reaction to someone of my... race."

"And Gods help the Klingon that decides to try and make an issue of it." The fire bird scoffed lightly from beneath her big sun hat, a hand shooing the idea away. The sound of her flip flops beating against her heels and the deck announced her movement towards Almar and the transporter pad, it was her turn to drag Pond behind her.

"Who beat you up on Earth?" Amelia gaped, stumbling along with Rochelle's pull. She'd heard all sort of talk about the Commander on the ship's grape vine -- she hated gossip, but found it useful to at least keep an ear on it to listen for the veins of truth within. None that she heard involved the Commander being beat up on Earth, she could only guess it must be old news. It was still very new to her. "Anyone gives you trouble, sir, I don't care what I'm doing, you call and I've got your back."

"Just some... concerned citizens," the Cardassian rumbled as he moved up onto the transporter pad and turned to face the chief, "I always felt that I'm an outsider, they just proved it."

Rochelle stepped up to take her place on the pad and sighed, shaking her head. "You're not an outside, Commander." She said, folding her arms over her chest as if to set her point, "You belong here, to the Vindicator. We've had this discussion."

Amelia moved to her spot on the transporter pad. She thought about reinsisting she'd be there if someone gave the commander trouble, or reassuring him he did belong on the ship... but while she meant it, it all felt hollow, so she kept her mouth shut. She nodded to the transporter chief, and waited for their party to beam down to the resort.

=/\= END LOG =/\=

Captain Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR

Lt Commander Amelia Waterhouse
Executive Officer
USS Vindicator

Commander Almar Dahe'el
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Vindicator

Commander Vlimar PontBrillant
Strategic Operations Commander
USS Vindicator

 

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