Who says:

Ok, I decided during the night "No guts, No glory"  Here is the story I was whining about being nervous
about posting.

PGray and Carola- thanks for your encouragement!

All together now:  Star Trek in all its entities belongs to Paramount, I’m just borrowing, yadda,
yadda, yadda.

Rated PG to NC-17:  It depends upon you.  If you are wholesome and clean-minded, its PG for some mild
swearing.   If you are dirty-minded and in the gutter, its NC-17.  Take your pick.  I know what I
had in my mind when I wrote this ;)

Please send feedback!   This is a deliberate groveling and shameless appeal for feedback:  At last
count I have 13 stories in various stages of completion (I work on a lot at the same time- what
can I say?).  Encouragement and constructive help will only push me to get those 13 stories done
quickly.  Did I mention that they are nearly all NC-17?  Did I mention that I have 13 stories in the
works?  Did I mention that I am a very fast writer and will get those 13 stories done quickly if I get
nice encouragement?
 
 

        Chief O’Brien guardedly entered the tailor’s shop.  He wanted to see Julian and had been told by
the nurse that the doctor had gone to visit the Cardassian.  Miles still couldn’t figure out why
Julian, of all people, actually liked being around the Cardassian.  Julian was innocent, naïve,
generous; the exact opposite of Garak.  What he saw in him was beyond the Irishman.

        O'Brien had no desire to talk to Garak and was halfway relieved when he saw the shop was
apparently empty.  Still, he was puzzled over Julian’s whereabouts.  He was about to leave when a
slight sound from the back caught his attention.

        Cautiously, he approached the workroom in the back.  The noises increased in volume as he entered
the room and determined they were coming from one of  the changing rooms.  There was a curtain drawn over
the small room, but it stopped a foot or so from the floor, and the Chief could see two pairs of feet.
There were two people in the small room.

        "Ouch!  Garak, can’t we go to my quarters or yours?  What if someone comes in?"

        "No one will find us if you just stay quiet."

        The Chief frowned in concern.  No doubt about it; Julian and Garak were in that small room.  What
was going on?  He didn’t like the tone of Garak’s voice- he sounded angry even for him.

        "I want to do this right here, this instant, " Garak’s voice continued.  "You’ve been putting me
off for several days and I’m tired of waiting."

        "Well do you have to be so rough?  It hurts!"

        "Pain is part of it, you should know that by now.   Cardassians are not gentle when it comes to
this.  You knew that the first time, I warned you."

        "I still think you tricked me.  You...oww!"

        O'Brien nearly moved in.  Something was obviously happening that Julian did not want.  He was
being hurt!  The next words stopped him cold.

        "You always fight and protest during it, but then you always thank me afterwards.  You know you
like it."

        Well, I won’t deny it’s worth it, Garak, but really…"

        "Doctor,  you talk more than anyone else I have ever known.  You even talk during this.  I swear
that next time I am going to tape your mouth shut.  The moans and cries are acceptable, but the constant
yammering truly gets on my nerves at times like this."

        "Garak, I have to talk to take my mind off what is happening.  You said once that you
understood."  The doctor sounded  out of breath.

        "I sincerely regret that.  Look at it this way; distracting me with talk only prolongs it.  If
you would let me concentrate it wouldn’t take so long.  Now be quiet."

        "But…"

        "Doctor, be quiet!" Garak snapped.

        A few minutes passed, during which O'Brien starred in horror at the curtain.  He wanted to rush
in, but …Good Lord!  He didn’t think he could handle seeing what was happening behind that curtain.

        Julian's soft moans suddenly increased.  Then the feet that the Chief had identified as Julian's
were suddenly jerked off the floor.

        "Oh, God!  Yes Garak!  Like that, please!"  Julian's voice cried out, obviously delighted.  "More!"

        A minute later, Julian’s feet reappeared.  There was nothing but heavy breathing from behind the
curtain for a few moments.

        "Well, that obviously was pleasurable after all, Doctor."

        "You’re right, as always Garak.  It was incredible.  You are truly wonderful."

        "Don’t forget to thank me."

        There was a low chuckle from the doctor.  "Thank you, Garak."

        O'Brien couldn’t take it any more.  He rushed from the room, out of the shop, down the corridors
and he didn’t stop running until he was huddled in the Engine room of the Defiant, praying desperately
for a Dominion attack while he broke into the still and guzzled the alcohol the engineering staff brewed
for parties.

***

        Julian frowned as he drew the curtain back.  "Did you hear something?" he asked the tailor.

        "No.  It was probably just some noise from Quark's."

        "Garak, I stake my reputation as a doctor upon it - you are the best chiropractor I have even
known."  The doctor beamed as he followed Garak out into the main shop.  "That stretching part before
is a pain, but it’s worth it for the adjustment."

        The Cardassian nodded.  "If you would just quit bending over the computer terminal so much, you
wouldn’t get these pains so often.  I’ve warned you before.  And if you would do as I suggest and have an
adjustment on a regular schedule, I wouldn’t have to pull so hard."

        "I know.  But, at least I know where to come for help.  And even though I think you deliberately
pull a little hard, it does feel good later.  Garak, you should open up a chiropractic shop.  I’ll
endorse it anytime."

        "Your gratitude is duly noted.  Now, if you excuse me, I need to get back to work."

        "Me too.  Thanks again, Garak."  The doctor cheerfully left for the infirmary.
 
 

        Major Kira sat comfortably in a chair in a corner at Quarks.  It had been a long day and she had
been looking forward to relaxing.  Unfortunately the bar was so crowded the only chair she had been able
to find had been at a table beside the table where Garak and Doctor Bashir were seated.  Kira liked
Bashir all right, he was brash, arrogant and sometimes infuriating, but still bearable.

        It was Garak she despised beyond words, and Bashir’s just sitting with him was enough to make her
inclined to hate him at less at the moment.  They were deep in conversation, heads nearly touching.
She shuddered just thinking about those two.  Who knows what they were talking about?  If she knew
Garak, he was probably bragging about the occupation of Bajor.

        Out of curiosity, she turned an ear slightly toward them.  Kira normally loathed eavesdroppers,
but she was bored and the possibility of getting something bad on Garak was worth it.   Casually, she
leaned a bit in their direction.  One talent she had developed during her time with the resistance was
listening carefully.  Sure enough, Garak’s voice drifted over.

        "The drug was in your drink.  You didn’t notice a thing."

        His tone was smug and Kira frowned.  Drug?

        "Why?  What purpose did it serve?"  Bashir’s voice was quiet and subdued.

        "Once you were under it’s effect, it served my purpose very well.  I carried you into the
bedroom, quickly removed your clothes… Are you sure you want to hear this?  You were there you
know, your memories are just fuzzy."

        "I want to know what you did to me," the doctor insisted.

        The Cardassian shrugged.  "Very well.  I tasted and explored every inch of your delightful
body.  You were quite helpless to resist me, and I relished the change.  Oh, don’t misunderstand me.
When you struggle and fight, I enjoy that greatly, but this passiveness was a welcome diversion."

        "I thought you wanted me to fight, you ordered it before."

        "Of course, but understand that was not the only reason.  Now where was I?  Of yes,  I found you
to be delightfully passive.  Quite a welcome change from your constant talking.  I found far better use
for your delicious lips."

        Kira wanted to jump up and punch Garak right thought the bulkhead, but Julian's next words made
her pause.

        "I already agreed to do what you want - every time.  I just don’t understand."

        "You don’t need to understand everything, do you?"

        "I guess not."  Bashir paused.  "But you know I won’t disobey you."

        "Ah, you see, I have your body, but not your mind.  Every time I take you, I see the spark of
resistance in your eyes, in your body language.  This freed your mind for once."

        "That still doesn’t make it right," the doctor insisted.

        "Why do you question everything?  It’s quite annoying," the Cardassian remarked.

        "Actually, I wish I remember it better."

        "You remember the exquisite pleasure, don’t you?  Ah, don’t be embarrassed.  I see in your eyes
that you do remember."

        "I do…some.  Perhaps, could we…repeat the experience?  Without the drug?"

        "I have you anytime I desire you.  What would make this different?  I’ve never had your mind
before."

        "Please, let me prove what I can do.  I’ll be better this time, I promise.  I want to give you
pleasure like you gave me."

        Kira had heard enough.  She jumped up and left the bar infuriated, thoughts of saving Bashir
left behind.  If Julian wanted to be Garak's love slave, that was fine with her.  She just wanted to
forget what she had heard.  It was completely nauseating.  She thought she had heard things during
the occupation, but this was too perverted for words.

***

        Bashir looked up puzzled as Kira angrily left the bar.  "What’s wrong with her, I wonder?" he
mused.

        "Who knows?  And I for one, am not interested in discovering the cause.  The good Major gets angry
far too quickly.  Now, where were we?"

Julian looked back at the PADD in his hand.  "Um... Invek’s line ‘want to give you pleasure like you gave
me.’"

        The Cardassian nodded.  "Well, that’s about the end of the scene anyway.  What do you think from
reading it aloud?"

        "Garak, I still think the play is terrible.  Reading the lines aloud does nothing to change my
mind.  It’s still stupid.  I just can’t follow the character’s motivations.  Are you sure this is
a masterpiece?"

        "Of course, " Garak sounded insulted.

        "Well, it does nothing for me.  The characters are just ridiculous.  And from a medical
standpoint, the drug that it so famously used does not exist.  I don’t know of anything that would
have that effect."

        Garak sighed.  "That’s why it’s called ‘fiction’ Doctor. Perhaps " he mused, "one needs to
see the whole play performed to fully appreciate it."

        "That could be true, I suppose.  Maybe seeing actors performing would enliven it a bit.  I just
can’t follow the plot from reading it.  Too complicated."
 
 
 

        Lt. Commander Worf walked the corridors of the Defiant on another spot inspection that he
enjoyed.  All looked in order, he was satisfied and ready to leave after he checked one last section.  He
rounded the corner and paused.

        One of the Jeffries tubes had its panel laying on the floor.  There were two pairs of boots
beside it.  Obviously, there were a couple of people inside.  Worf frowned, not remembering any inspection
or repair work being scheduled.  He approached cautiously and listened to the voices.

        "Doctor, really, of all the places,"  Garak's voice sounded.

        "It’s perfect, besides you said I could choose the place this time.  Hey, don’t hold me so
tight.  I still have bruises from the other day."  It was Doctor Bashir's voice.

        "Sorry," Garak sounded half way sincere.  "Just can’t control it."

        "I know, I’m not mad, just try to be more careful and relax a bit.  It’s better with me though,
isn’t it?  I mean - before you had to help yourself, right?  At least you can use me now."

        "Yes it is much better doing it with another person.  It gets tiresome by ones self’s all the
time."

        There was a long pause in which the only sound was a bit of heavy breathing.  Worf was frozen,
trying to decided what to do.

        "You’re doing great, Garak," the doctor sounded quite cheerful.  "You’ve lasted 20 minutes.
Better than last time."

        "And just how long will it take to satisfy you, Doctor?"

        "Don’t know, can’t really tell."

        "As you get older, Doctor, you will find that you last longer at everything, this included."

        Visions danced before Worf’s eyes - visions that were making him ill.

        Julian giggled.  "I can tell."  There was a shuffling noise.  "What?  No fair," the human
protested.  "We agreed I would be on top this time."

        "Doctor, if I have to keep looking up at you like that, I’ll develop crick in my neck."

        "You just have to be in control, don’t you?"

        "Yes."

        "Well at least watch my legs will you?  My left foot is kinda twisted under you."

        "Sorry."  More shuffling noise and movement.  "Better?"

        "Much.  Guess yoga did come in useful, didn’t it?  Don’t know how I’d be able to lift my legs this
high otherwise."

        The corridor around Work began to move.  Either the Defiant was moving, or the Klingon was
about to collapse.

        "Are you sure that is comfortable, Doctor?"

        "We’ve been over this before.  It you want to be face to face, it’s the only way.  I’m flexible enough,
don’t worry."

        "Doctor," there was an unusual sound in the Cardassian's voice.  "Give me your hand.  Something
needs your attention."  There was a pause.

        "Oh  Lord, Garak!  Why didn’t you tell me?  Here, let me rub..."

        Worf bolted and headed for the restroom where he promptly lost his lunch.

***

        A moment later, a heavily breathing Cardassian and an anxious human dropped out of the
Jeffries tube.

        "Deep breaths, Garak," the doctor advised as he untangled himself from the tailors grasp.

        "Don’t tell me to breath heavy," Garak protested.  He managed to sit up.  "I really do doubt
your treatment for claustrophobia."

        "The only way to get over a fear of tight places is to be in them," Julian said sagely.  "We
can just manage to fit in there together, so you’re not by yourself.  It works perfectly."  He stretched.
"Even though I do have to hook my legs around the ladder to keep from slipping down."  The doctor put
his hand on the Cardassian's chest, checking the heartbeat.  "Getting slower, good.  I’ll rub your
neck some more, that usually helps."

        After several minutes, the tailor stood up.  "Well, how long did I manage this time?"

        "Over half an hour.  Really good."

        "I think I can wait a while before the next time," the tailor hinted.

        "We’ll see," Julian was deliberately vague.
 
 

        Jadzia sat in Quark’s bar, nursing a heavy drink and making tentative plans for tomorrow.  She
was relaxed and cheerful, hoping someone would come in to visit with.

        The door opened and Doctor Bashir and Garak entered.  The Trill eyed them curiously; she had
heard plenty of stories about them, but found most of them hard to believe.  If there was one thing Dax
knew, it was that gossip spread and grew.  She liked to keep an open mind about such things.

        Bashir leaned against the bar as Garak placed his order - a bottle of kanaar to go.

        "Garak, why you do need real kanaar now of all times?" he asked.

        "You tire an old man out," the Cardassian retorted.

        "Well hurry up."

        The tailor looked amused.  "Why such a hurry?  As I distinctly recall, you were about to receive 10
lashes for punishment when we were rudely interrupted last time."

        Dax raised an eyebrow.  The two men continued their discussion.

        "Maybe I want to get it over with," the doctor suggested.

        "Or, maybe you enjoy it."

  "I enjoy the challenge, you know that.  It’s a...unique experience."

        Jadzia looked appraisingly at Bashir.  Wouldn’t have thought he had it in him, she mused.

        "Twenty lashes now, Doctor," Garak said.

        "What?  That’s not fair," the doctor protested.

        "If you had paid more attention to the rules, you would expect this.  What is the punishment for
talking during the punishment?"

        Bashir thought for a minute, then realization dawned. ""Ah, gee.  More lashes," he muttered.

        "Correct."  Garak took the bottle from Leeta who had heard enough of the conversation to be
shocked and barely able to move.  "And you talked far more than 10 lashes worth last time, but
remember I let you off because you were about to collapse from the strain."

        "And you said you would add it on another time.  All right, all right, I remember.  Garak, you
really are the most fiendish controller I’ve ever encountered."

        The Cardassian smiled.  "I wanted you, Doctor.  Once you’ve had a Cardassian master, you’ll
never go back."

        Dax choked on her drink.  Julian immediately turned to her.

        "Dax, are you all right?" he asked.

        She barely managed to speak.  "Um...yes, perfectly."  She looked at him in concern.  "Are you
all right?" she asked in a low tone.

        The doctor grinned.  "Never better," he said cheerfully.

        "Now who is stalling," the tailor observed.  "I can of course wait, and won’t loose my touch, but
you..."

        "Quite bragging."  Bashir looked irritated.  He smiled apologetically at Jadzia.  "We have to go,"
he said.  He turned to follow Garak out.  "Every time you beat me, you’re insufferable for days," he said
to the Cardassian.  "I don’t mind the beating itself, but when you have to brag about it..." his voice
trailed off as the two left.

        Jadiza looked at Leeta.  "Well...I’ll be damned," she finally muttered.

***

        "Jadiza sounded like she had a bad cough," Bashir observed as Garak set up the game board.  "I
better check on her tomorrow."

        "She did sound somewhat strangled," the tailor agreed.  The doctor consulted his instruction
booklet again.

        "One thing I’m wondering about, Garak," he said.  "I’ve played almost every known variation of
role playing games, but why in the Cardassian version is loosing a turn called a lash?"

        The Cardassian shrugged.  "Well it was created by the Obsidian Order," he mused.  "Perhaps,
it was once a real punishment, not just a fantasy one."

        Bashir glared at him.  "That’s disgusting," he said.

        "It’s very Cardassian," Garak replied.   "Though I must agree that just the punishment of not
talking while I take my turns seems to be enough for you.  I thought you were going to have a heart
attack last time.  I can’t believe you actually lasted half an hour with out talking."

"That the challenge I enjoy."  The Doctor settled down on a chair.

"Um..." Garak observed.  "Not talking is certainly a challenge for you."  He picked up a game piece and
set it on the board.  "All right, let see, where were we?"

        "I just moved two steps this way, and you were going to counter, but would lose 20 points."

        The two men bent in concentration over the game board.
 
 

        Benjamin Sisko generally made it a policy to not interfere in his officer’s private lives.  As
long as it didn’t interfere with duties, he was quite lenient and seldom became personally involved.

        This was different though.  At first, he had put it off to gossip and rumor.  A misunderstanding,
surely.  But when Dax, who had heard and seen everything came running in, babbling, it was time to
take action.  He assembled everyone and called Doctor Bashir to come into his office.

        Bashir finally arrived, looking distracted and unusually unkempt.  "Sorry, I’m late Sir, " he
apologized.  "Garak and I were in the middle of something."

        Sisko heard O'Brien choke behind him, but ignored it.  "Well, Doctor, actually it is you and
Mr. Garak that I need to discuss with you.  I’ve heard some...stories, and..."

        "Sir, I know what you are talking about," the doctor said quickly.  "I’m very sorry.  I thought we
were being discrete."

        "Discrete my ass, " Kira muttered.  Thankfully the doctor didn’t hear.

        "Ah, so, the stories are true?"  Sisko was cautious.

        The doctor nodded.  "Yes sir.  In fact, we do doing just that when you called.  That’s why I’m a
bit late.  Had to clean up, you know."

        Worf began to mutter something about crazy humans and how they should be put out of their
misery.

        Sisko was caught off guard. This situation was most definitely NOT handled in Starfleet command
class.  "Well, I certainly can’t order you to stop, but...you could be a bit more discrete."

        "Yes Sir, "Bashir looked properly chastised.  "I really am very sorry.  Didn’t mean to cause
trouble.  Just got carried away."

        "If you don’t mind my asking, Doctor, just how long have you and Mr. Garak, er..."

        "Three months, I guess."  Bashir seemed completely forthcoming.  "I’d say, oh, three or four
time a week I guess.  Can’t say how long any one bout lasts though.  I usually pass out and I don’t know
how long Garak continues."

        "Sweet Jesus!"  This from O'Brien.

        Bashir looked puzzled.  "Sorry it bothers you so much, Chief."

        Sisko decided it was time to end before nearly his entire staff collapsed behind him.  "Well,
just use a bit more discretion, Doctor.  I know we will all appreciate it."

        "Of course.  Actually, Sir, we were going to ask if anyone else would like to join.  It would give
Garak someone to talk with after I go to sleep."

        Miles and Kira promptly left.  Only Dax looked vaguely interested.  One glance from Worf
though, and she just smiled and shrugged.

        "Ah, no thank you, Doctor, " Sisko managed.  "Dismissed."  He waited until Julian left, then fell
into his chair as his remaining staff went into fits.

***

        Garak glanced up as the doctor returned to the holosuite.

        "They know about our all night poker games," Bashir announced.  "Sisko isn’t mad, just seemed kind
of irritated."  He rejoined Garak at the table and the holographic dealer cut him in on the next round.

        "Odd," Garak sniffed.  He studied his hand as the various players began to make their calls.  "Did
you ask if anyone of them wanted to join in?"

        Bashir nodded.  "That’s the really weird part.  Almost the whole command staff was there and
they all looked like they were having heart attacks.  I thought Miles was going to die."  He upped the ante
and settled back.  "I mean, honestly, Garak.  The look on Miles’ face...you would have thought I asked
to have sex with him or something."

        "Really doctor, "Garak shuddered.  "I don’t need that image playing around in my mind."

        "Yeah, I don’t either.  Just really strange, you know."

        Garak shrugged.  "The entire senior staff is strange, in my opinion."  He looked at his poker
buddy.  "Present company excluded, of course."

        "Right."  Bashir settled back.  "Just shut up and play.  I’m supposed to meet with the counselor
tomorrow for some weird reason. He turned about six shades of red while setting up the appointment.  Must
be something embarrassing."

        The two friends happily started their game.
 
 

The End
 

See what I mean?  If you have a clean mind, it was wholesome fun.  If, like me, you swim in the
trenches, and have a bottom-dwelling mind, well...hee-hee.
 

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