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From: captain973@aol.com (Captain973)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: NEW STORY: "They Bet..." (1/1, P/C)
Date: 29 Feb 1996 00:08:22 -0500
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	Standard disclaimer: Paramount owns the Star Trek franchise,
universe, etc. The story,
however, is mine. Feel free to pass it along, but don't separate my name
or this message from it.
:)

	This little short evolved from... well, I guess it evolved from my
pair of in-line skates that
have been sitting on my floor for the past few months. I walk by them
countless times a day, and
from that this little story evolved. Hope you like it!

They Bet, He lost... But They Both Won

By

Melissa Zander

	"Holodeck four, Jean-Luc. 1600 hours. Don't be late." With a smug,
pleased look on her
face, Beverly Crusher sauntered off, barely containing a snicker as she
walked away.
	*Winning bets is nice, but winning bets over Jean-Luc Picard is...
wonderful,* she
thought, as she felt his eyes boring into her back with undisguised
irritation. Jean-Luc Picard,
while many things, was not a graceful loser. She was going to enjoy this.

	*She is simply enjoying this way too much,* thought Picard as he
glared at her retreating
backside. He chased the brief rumination *But what a lovely backside...*
out of his mind.
	Sighing, he walked into his quarters to await his destiny...
whatever Beverly Crusher
decided it would be.

	A few hours later, Picard stood outside Holodeck 4. He felt
extremely self conscious
standing there, waiting admittance, in the outfit Beverly had dictated he
wear.
	It consisted of a loose-fitting short sleeve shirt, something
Beverly had called a "t-shirt";
his shorts were skin tight, accentuating every well-defined muscle of his
legs. The shirt didn't
bother him - it was the shorts.
	Much to his relief, the holodeck doors opened to reveal a
similarly-dressed Beverly
Crusher. He immediately felt ten times better about what he was wearing.
	He finally noticed the strange, amused look Beverly was directing
at him, and he
remembered to breathe.
	Beverly raked her eyes up and down his form, from the t-shirt to
the practically painted
on shorts. *Good choice, Beverly,* she complimented herself. *Very, very
good choice.*
	She tore her eyes away from him and gestured to two pairs of very
odd-looking footwear
on the ground. "The blue ones are yours, Jean-Luc. I'm sure they'll fit."
	He made no move towards them, instead choosing to eye them
dubiously. "Beverly, just
what *are* those things, anyway?" They looked like something he could
easily manage to break
his neck in, and he wanted nothing to do with them.
	Crusher rolled her eyes and plopped down on the ground to put her
pair on. He watched
carefully as she buckled and snapped down the three fasteners on each
contraption.
	"These date back to the late twentieth century, Jean-Luc. They're
called in-line skates."
At his confused look, she said, "Here, I'll show you."
	She climbed to her feet and pushed off slightly with one skate,
and went swaying
gracefully down the smooth pavement. After executing a perfect figure
eight, she rolled back and
stopped perfectly in front of him.
	"You want me to actually wear those things?" he asked. She sat
back down and pulled
some other interesting things on. Two knee pads, two wrist guards, and two
elbow pads were
quickly strapped on, and she stood again. "Our bet, Jean-Luc. You
promised," she reminded him.
	Sighing, he sat down. With a few instructions from Beverly, he
soon had the in-line
skates on, as well as all the pads. Then he tried to get up.
	"Oomph! Damn it!" he yelled, as he wound up smack on his lovely,
firm rear. Beverly's
face grew red with contained laughter, but she finally exploded. "Oh, God,
Jean-Luc, if you could
have seen the look on your face..."
	Not wanting to let him bruise his pride - or anything else -
Beverly extended a hand
down. "Here. I'll help you up." He stared at her for a moment, eyes
snapping, then grudgingly
took her hand.
	Beverly's arms snaked around his waist as she held him steady.
"Okay. Now just push
off gently, and then rhythmically, alternating sides. Got it?" He nodded,
and she let go.
Unfortunately, he turned his head to evaluate the skating area, and
therefore missed the the evil
look that crossed his best friend's face.
	He felt her hands on his back briefly, and then the next thing he
knew he was flying
forward, thanks to a very generous push from his *friend*. "BEVERLY!!!!"
he yelled, as the
course sloped downward and his skates carried him at a breakneck pace.
	"I told you this was going to be fun, Jean-Luc!" she gleefully
yelled after him. *Fun for
me, anyway,* she told herself. She admitted to a slight bit of guilt...
very slight. But it did nothing
to hinder her amusement. *He should come to the poker games more often,*
Beverly thought.
*This is quite profitable.*

	Beverly skated after him a minute later. As she turned a corner,
she saw a figure 50 feet
off the course in the grass, lying on his back, unmoving. "Jean-Luc?" she
called, concerned. No
answer.
	She quickly trudged through the grass and stood over him. He gazed
up at her,
unblinking. His entire front was covered in grass stains. Finally, in a
quiet voice, he said, "I think
I'll demote you to ensign and assign you to cargo bay duty somewhere in
the bowels of the ship.
Or maybe I'll just throw you in the brig and be done with it."
	She snickered. "If you did that, you wouldn't have me around to
have fun with anymore."
Still staring at her, he absently reached down and brushed some grass off
his shirt. "No, but I'd
probably live a lot longer," he quipped.
	Suddenly, he reached behind her knees and pulled forward. With a
surprised cry, she
collapsed on top of him. With her arms braced on either side of his head,
her face centimeters
from his, she murmured, "But you'll die happy, not bored."
	Lost in the mesmerizing depths of her blue eyes, he forgot what
they were talking about.
"What?" he asked absently.
	She relaxed her arms, allowing her body to rest atop his. She
could feel his heart beating
reassuringly beneath her chest. His piercing hazel eyes captured hers, and
she could feel her
own heartbeat speed up.
	Any conversation they had been having was dismissed, as their
bodies did the talking for
them. Beverly lowered her mouth to his, and they kissed softly, pulled
away, and then kissed
again. This time, they didn't pull back.

	Her voice came softly some time later. "Jean-Luc?" she murmured,
stroking his bare
chest absently. "Hmm?" he answered, tiredly stroking her auburn hair.
	"Are you coming to the next poker game?"
	She smiled.
	He smiled.

****^****^****^****^****^****^****

"All of us have violent instincts. We have evolved from predators.
....Well, not me, of course. I've just been programmed by you predators."

---The Holographic Doctor, ST: Voyager

****^****^****^****^****^****^****