Massages can be dangerous (part 2)

Posted on Sun Sep 22nd, 2019 @ 5:44pm by Commander Ichiko Gail & Lieutenant Mica Rue

"Mica, thank you." she started, opening an eye to look over at the lieutenant. "If I didn't have anyone with me for this, I don't think anyone would believe me."

Mica was brought out of her reverie as she heard the XO and laughed. "Believe what? How great this is?"

Ichiko gave a giggle in response. "This." a soft smile spread along her features, "It's memories like this that I love to make." she paused for a moment, "I carry every memory with me, every memory I ever make. Every new friend, every success, every failure." she recited with a nod.

"It's a curse. The name for the condition translates to the Mind That Won't Let Go. I remember everything. Everything..." another pause, "So this, this amazing moment right here, I'll remember forever."

Mica smiled at the other woman. "That's very beautiful. I can understand how it would be difficult as well though, managing and processing and keeping so many memories." She didn't mention that when a memory became too much for Mica to handle, she could just project it away. That too, was a blessing and a curse.

"It's maddening. There are times I'm reluctant to try to socialize. Every face in the crowd that I give even a glance to, is a glance I'll never forget... but, if I don't at least try, then all I'll remember is that time I did nothing. Damned either way." she offered with a smirk, in high spirits regarding a lifelong curse.

"This, though. I'll live with remembering this." another smirk, slightly wider.

The unlikely pair fell silent after that, both enjoying the massaging of their feet and lower legs. Enough that the masseuses fell into quiet idle chatter of their own, a pleasant white noise to the soft music that played in the background.

It wasn't long until Mica's head lolled against her shoulder, the weight of a carefree life, a relatively easy commission, with one or two exceptions, playing inside her mind while her body eased from the tension of unknown origin.

In her dream, the strain of the relationship with her family melted away, the uncertainty of meeting new officers fell to the wayside, and happier things became.

With the soothing motion of the masseuses hands on her legs, a memory of another massage, one long ago, filled her dream. It was from before. From before Mica had learned what she really was, when trill spots still marked her skin and the possibility of being joined was a fresh hope.

Mica had been invited to a party by some fellow classmates - her good cheer and outgoing nature was always popular at the rowdy bashes that happened infrequently and with the careful understanding of the instructors. She had been enjoying a drink, sitting on the lap of a young Risian man she knew well and laughing at the latest joke that someone had sprouted when a philosophical discussion began. Keeping quiet, Mica listed to the merits of physical touch between sentients and the lack thereof.

Taking a sip of her Andorian wine, the woman could not dismiss either argument and inclined her head willingly when the man she had been perched on suggested she participate in an experiment. Standing, she gladly watched as the party-goers vacated the couch, and the man held out his hand, already rubbing them together. As a Risian, he was well-acquainted with the nature of pleasure through touch, and Mica figured there was no harm.

She laid face-down on the couch and closed her eyes.

She remembered the Risian's palms felt warm to the touch. Warm, and soft, his fingers sliding over her skin, thankfully exposed due to her backless halter top. She sighed into the touch, enjoying the feeling as the discussion continued, voices noting her visible ease.

She drifted off in and out of the voices, her mind wandered.

Her back became cold, without touch.

It took Mica a while to come back into herself and realize the young man's hands were no longer on her back, that he, like the others, were standing around the couch at a distance. Silent.

She sat up slowly, her smile drifting away as they stared at her, both awe and disturbance in their eyes.

Mica's eyes crinkled in her sleep, consciousness coming to her quickly as the sounds of the moaning perforated her dream-state and tore her into reality. As she lifted her head and opened her eyes, her masseuse did the same, the sounds stopping abruptly as the woman pulled her hands from Mica's skin as though she had been burned.

Ichiko's masseuse giggled, continuing her own work while Mica's turned a deep shade of red in embarrassment. Mica's own skin flushed as she realized she had projected the memory, likely with far more feeling than she had felt herself. Standing, she stepped out of the small tub, not bothering to towel off as she mumbled apologies and rushed from the salon, stopping only to don her sandals.

It was maybe a few minutes, Mica out and on the run from the salon. The night was cool now, the sun had set and the only lights that provided comfort from the dark were the street lights of the main square and some tiny decorative lights on strings between buildings or on umbrellas. The wind over the beach was soothing, but still carried a touch of the cool. She had outrun the moment, outrun the stigma.

"Are you alright?" a voice asked, a concerned tone to it. It belonged to Ichiko. Having perhaps lingered behind to smooth things over, or to take the extra time needed to dry fur where flesh had no such need. "I should have checked to see if such an environment was to your liking. I apologize."

Always with a kind word. Always with a way to cover. Protocol seemed to be the native tongue of the Ts'usugi.

"No." Mica shook her head. "I mean, yes, I'm fine, thank you. I just let myself get too comfortable in there I suppose. I let my guard down, and I shouldn't have." The thought that she had been so close to a superior and made such a grievous error as letting a memory get projected unknowingly disturbed Mica. It shouldn't have happened. It couldn't happen again. "I should probably go back to my room, get a good night's sleep." The uplift she wanted to portray didn't touch her eyes, though her lips had curled up slightly into a smile.

Ichiko brushed a stray collection of her hair out from in front of her face. "No, the fault is mine. In my rush to share a positive moment, I never thought to consider what effect it could have had on others."

Nevermind that there was no way Ichiko could have known about this.

"The fault is mine, and I apologize. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening. It was good to get to know you." a good fresh polish over a troubled moment.

Mica watched the XO walk away. She felt like a bag of something putrid, knowing that she had now sullied a cherished memory. She had raised her hand, ready to call the woman back but instead, lowered it slowly and turned. She would apologize later, when guilt wasn't quite so heavy. A quick strong drink and right to bed was in order.

Things would seem better in the morning...