TOS: Kirk/Rand, Sulu/Rand; Rated PG; double drabble
She walks in, one hip at a time, dressed in red from her garnet painted lips to her crimson toenail polish. She's always looked good in red.
She doesn't even notice you, doesn't seem to notice anyone in the little hide-away bar on the planet du jour. You didn't think it would, but it hurts.
She's on a mission tonight; everyone in the bar knows it. The smell of sex -- of wanting, needing -- trails in her wake like exotic perfume. It's a scent you know well.
She heads for him, unwavering. Sulu sits at the bar, tracking her every move like a thirsty man watching a dripping faucet. Does he know how lucky he is?
You take another drink as she leans against him and whispers something in his ear. He chuckles and nods, puts down money for his drink. She takes his hand, leads him out of the bar, a secret smile of satisfaction playing around the corners of her mouth.
You remember the taste of those lips. You remember how she felt in your arms, her squeal of delight when you tickled the backs of her knees. You can remember everything... except why you let her go.