Unexpected Visit

Unexpected Visit

Day 7 (Shore Leave Day 2)

MacGregor

0727 Hours

 

Drake awoke with a woman in his arms, but this time, there was also an intermittent pounding to claim his attention. Two nights in a row with Beth? That's dangerous. And who's pounding? However, it was black hair he brushed out of his face. Not Beth. Not my quarters. Right, it's shore leave. A paid companion. Who is pounding?

He slipped out of bed and wrapped the bedspread around himself. It was the hotel manager at his door. "Dr MacGregor, sorry to bother you-"

A white hand impatiently pushed the man aside, and there was Mac, her bright hair a mass of unkempt curls, her vest not hiding much, a shopping bag clamped tight under her arm. "Morning, Mac. Bugsy ssays tag, you're it." Her voice was mildly slurred.

"Morning, Mac." Last night's exploits with his paid companion suddenly seemed flat and unrewarding.

"This person claims to be your... niece," the manage sniffed.

"If he weren't my niece, how could we have the same nick name?" Mac asked.

The manager looked affronted at such nonsense. Drake smiled. "Absolutely right. Come in, Mac," he invited, opening the door further. The hotel man was aghast at sight of the bedspread around him. As soon as the redhead entered, Drake closed the door, cutting off any protests.

Mac stopped just inside the door, staring at the woman in the bed, the sheet covering her form without hiding any curves. What curves she has. Nothing compared to Mac. Drake caught Mac casting a nervous glance at his bedspread. What am I thinking, just standing here? Look at her. Scared half to death.

"Let me put something on," he suggested, and went to the bathroom, where he swapped the bedspread for underwear and a robe. When he emerged, Mac sat on the couch, ignoring the bed.

Drake shook the sleeping woman. "Wake up."

She grimaced but opened her eyes. "Morning call is another fifty credits, Honey."

That wasn't mentioned last night. "Take a shower, get dressed and get out. I have company."

She sat up, saw Mac on the couch. "Who's she? She's not licensed on this station! You can get in a lot of trouble, using an unlicensed companion!"

"None of your concern," he told her coldly. "As it happens, she's a shipmate. Believe that or don't, I don't care. But before you try to turn us in for unlicensed companionship, remember that a charge for morning call was not mentioned by your agency." Frowning, she jumped up and flounced to the bathroom.

Drake crossed the room, took a seat on the chair facing Mac. She tossed a quick glance at him and looked away again. He made sure he was decently covered. "Always a pleasure to see you, Mac, but I wasn't expecting you this early." I wasn't expecting her to show up here at all.

She picked imaginary bits of fluff from her pants, her right arm still clutching the bag, apparently afraid it might skitter away. "I'm sorry, Mac. I know it always makes Bugs cranky when I interfere with his love life." She sighed. "I shouldn't have come."

"Because of a paid companion?" he asked. "I can always get another."

She turned red. "If I hadn't come, you would have... enjoyed her again."

"Didn't really enjoy her the first time," he muttered, remembering the night before.

"Why not?" she asked, and blushed even more.

Doesn't matter what she looks like, I have to remember she is completely naive. Needs everything spelled out. "Because she doesn't enjoy it," he stated calmly. "It's a job she's tired of." Wow. Thought I was being as plain as could be, and she looks confused. A discussion of birds and bees this early in the morning? It can wait. "So, to get back to my question; why are you here?"

Reaching into the shopping bag, she pulled out a nearly-empty liquor bottle, twisted off the cap, and finished off the contents. "I'm drunk."

No kidding. "Do you want a de-intoxicant?" I don't have any with me.

"Oh, no!" she declared in alarm.

"Then-?"

She leaned forward to confide, "It's embarrassing. I thought I was pacing myself well. With drinking. My usual pace. But I've been dry so long, the alcohol hit me harder than I'm used to."

"Snuck up on you?"

She gave an embarrassed smile. "I need a place to crash for a couple hours."

"Hotel room," he suggested.

"Right," she agreed.

"I don't think you can afford one in this hotel." She looks confused again.

"You already have one."

She can't mean... He inhaled. "You expect to stay here? In my room?"

She shrugged. "I do with Bugs. It's no big thing."

She spends the night with Bugalu in a hotel room, and it's no big thing? Now I'm confused. "Where is Bugalu?"

"On the ship, on duty," she answered. "Or headed that way."

"Why didn't you just keep his room?"

"I didn't spend last night with him," she answered.

"But you just said-"

"I meant back at the Academy, when we all had leave together. Bugs and Matt in the beds; me on the couch." She leaned back. "This'll do fine."

"The space it will. Climb into my bed." She stiffened, her eyes big. "Well, that came out wrong," he stated. "Still, I'm done with the bed. No reason you can't use it. I'll get dressed and leave." He stood up and held out a hand. "Come on, I insist."

"But-"

"I know you don't want me to order you to bed," he told her.

"You could have told me she was your Morale Officer," came across the room. The paid companion had emerged from the bathroom.

"I am not!" Mac declared.

"You're not Fleet," the companion sneered. "Fleet doesn't let men order subordinates into bed!"

"True," Drake stated.

"Some of them try," Mac returned, but Drake refused to react.

"Mac is my niece. If I order her around, I do it as her uncle."

The companion smirked. "If you like incest, I'd have been your niece last night."

"You've been paid," he told her. "Get out."

"I'm going," she answered sweetly. "He's good, sweetie. Slow on the second set, but not hopeless. If you come back this way, Uncle, look me up." She picked up her shoes and slipped out the door.

"Well, that was nasty," he commented with a sigh.

"She's not the kind Beth said you like," Mac observed, climbing to her feet.

Beth! "Why would she say anything about-"

"We were discushing the kinds of women diff'ent men likes," she stated, her speech suddenly very slurred. She turned to the bed and paused. "I shudna've drunk that lash bit. I-"

"Go ahead, climb in," he told her. She lurched forward, one step. "I'll cancel the picnic basket and fishing rods, and you can sleep the day away."

"No!" she exclaimed, whirling to face him. She lost her balance and he suddenly found himself holding a very drunk redhead. She must be too drunk to hit me. "Don't wanna," she stated, her eyes half closed.

"Don't want what?" he asked.

"Sheep the day away." She rested her head on his shoulder, lifted it again to stare at him. "Promished, and I keep my promishes!" She tapped his chest to emphasize her words.

He sighed. "Mac, you are too drunk to-"

"Jush a little drunk!" she declared. "Wait." She paused to think, made a correction. "A little too drink. Spend entire leaves a little drank, so don't wanna sheep it off. Sheep off a little. Then wake up, and we go fissin'. Promish!"

"You go to sleep, and-"

"Promish!" she insisted.

"Would Bugalu make that promise?"

"Yesh."

Thought he was trying to take care of her. "Tell you what. I'll call Bugalu. If he thinks it's okay, I'll get you up to go fishing. But I'm not promising anything until I've talked with him."

"Okay," she agreed, and worked at standing upright. "You call Bugsh, and we'll go fissin'." She lurched for the bed, crashed onto it, her head somehow finding the pillows. "I promished," she muttered, and was asleep.

Now that he looked at her, he realized her laced vest did not contain her well. I cannot look at that and think of her as a little girl. He tossed the bedding over her and headed for the bathroom.