The Coffee Nebula Board is for the discussion of Star Trek: Voyager and other sci-fi/cult shows. This is its Archive of episode discussions, top ten lists, fan fiction, and other miscellaneous musings.


The Hayride

The Hayride (part one) PG-13
D'Alaire — 15 Sep 1998, 8:56 PM

B'Elanna straightened herself, pulled up her chin as they strode slowly into the stable, sure not to attract any undue attention. Seeing another horsewoman there, she gave a friendly, neutral nod. "Miss Susan," she said as they passed her by.

"Miss B'Elanna, Mr. Janeway," Susan replied, leaving just as slowly with her own steed. Only once she'd passed, did she smother her grin with no success.

B'Elanna glanced back gave Tom a look. "Thank you for the nice test run, Mister Janeway. I'm much obliged."

"It was my pleasure, Miss B'Elanna," he grinned.

In unison, they glanced to where Miss Susan was leaving. B'Elanna licked her lips. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you mind helping me clean off Liberty's shoe? Looks like something's stuck in it."

"I'd be honored miss."

Miss Susan had barely made it outside the stable door, and still had to stifle her laugh with her hand. Quickly she looked around. A funny old woman across the way shot a smile at her, but nobody else seemed to notice. Putting on her best face, Susan sauntered close, but not too close, to the side of the stable.

"Hello there, Miss Sus--"

Susan threw her hand over the woman's mouth. "Shh! Miss Jenny, shh!" Leaning in close, she whispered in Miss Jenny's ear, then cocked her head towards the stable wall.

"Ooh," said Miss Jenny, biting her lips as she smiled. "You really think?"

"Oh yes, they're..." and a look said it all.

Jenny looked around. "But her pa?" she whispered.

Miss Susan cut her eyes at Miss Jenny. "What do *you* think he'll do?"

Jenny almost answered, but a voice sounded from behind them--"Excuse me, Miss Jenny and Miss Susan, but may I comment that this is a most inappropriate place for you to be loitering, as you might be overrun by passing--"

"Oh stuff it, Mister Vorik!" Susan snipped. "Go find something else to

Vorik raised his brow. "But I was merely trying to--"

"Eeew," Jenny said. "You stink like Ponfarvia! Yuck--get away."

"I assure you, Miss Jen--"

"You heard Miss Jenny--git!"

They watched Vorik stumble off to the stable door, and sit beside it. Then he closed his eyes. Meeting each other's smiles, Miss Susan and Miss Jenny continued. "You think he'll get out his shotgun after Mister Janeway?"

"Oh yeah I do! Are you foolin'? Mister Torres would rather have a snake in his bed than Tom Janeway as his--"

A thud, then -- "Umph!" came echoing from inside the stable. "Oh Tom!"

The two ladies froze, smiles in place, eyes locked.

"Lordy," they breathed in unison.


"Did you hear something?" B'Elanna ragged voice then asked.

"You're always hearing stuff. Just the horses."

"Right. Horses."

* "Umph!" *

Miss Susan and Miss Jenny's eyes went bolt wide, and their mouth dropped into two little "O's." Suddenly they thought maybe they really should moesy a bit father down.

"Nah," they both whispered and stayed put.

The Hayride (Part Two) itching on PG-14
D'Alaire — 15 Sep 1998, 10:07 PM

Tom pushed his hand into B'Elanna's dark, thick hair as he deepened their kiss, pressing her fully back onto the stack of hay. Her hands were everywhere, under his vest, over his chest, around his waist and soon finding the openings in his chaps. He growled into their kiss then, hiking up her knee to his waist. Then she found something to hold to, and she grabbed with full force, wrapped her leg around his thigh. He gasped.

"Heaven's sake, B'Elanna--"

"My spurs hurtin' you?"

He caught two fast breaths. "What spurs?" he managed and devoured her mouth again, lifting her up more so he wouldn't have to bend.

B'Elanna giggled and hung on with her legs, continuing to trace his firm, lean body with her small, strong hands. She could feel his hand groping past her knee, his other hand exploring willfully, every inch of her in his reach. He soon bent to taste the soft, sweet skin of her neck, then her collar, then, with a few adjustments, her shoulder. Turning her head a little, she did the same to him after pulling off his bandanna. But in his securing her position in the hay once more, hopping her up with a little push, and a gentle bite upon her skin, it was her turn to gasp. "Oh Tom!"

He pulled back a little, still holding her in place. "You okay?"

Nodding, she tried to steady hear breath a little, staring into his darkened eyes. "Oh yes, Tom, I'm just fine."

He studied her for another moment, breathing hard himself. "Maybe...maybe this isn't the right thing to do right now B'Elanna."

"What in the world are you talking about? If we stop--again--I'll go nuts." Then she considered the meaning of his words. "Look, I know you're not the man you used to be, Tom. I really believe that. But...You the honorable thing, wouldn't you?"

Another couple breaths. "Of course I would, B'Elanna. I'd never disgrace you. I know you've had you share of pain and hurt. I have too, though I brought it all on myself. I messed up, and all I've ever wanted to do was make things right again."

He paused. momentarily turning his eyes away, but when he brought them to hers again, he was sure to look at her so she'd know his heart. "But what I did wrong's in the past -- it should be, I hope it is, I'm trying for it to be, and...well, honestly B'Elanna, you're the best dang thing that's happened to me, so you'd better believe I'd never do wrong by you. I know I don't even deserve a fine woman like you. But--"

"Tom," she said, pressing her fingers to his soft cheek, smiling gently as she gazed into his beautiful blue-grey eyes,

"Yes, B'Elanna?"

"Be quiet."

A rare smile grew across his mouth as her arms wrapped around him again. "Yes ma'am," he whispered.

Outside the stable door, Vorik snored loudly, then hiccuped.

The Hayride (part three)
D'Alaire — 15 Sep 1998, 10:18 PM

Madame D'Alaireux moved her hands slowly around the forman's shoulders, easing out the tension there. His eyes were closed, and he was smiling slightly. The croud watched, at least a couple women within it looking as if they'd *drink* the snake oil -- right off his body. Madame D'Alaireux smiled.

"How does that feel, Mister Torres?"

Chakotay couldn't help it. She'd been right about that oil. It was doing wonders. "I could have a backrub like this every night."

Suddenly a group of women thrust up into the croud. "I'll take a bottle!" One cried. "I'll take two!" said another.

Madame D'Alaireux winked at Timmy and gave him a nod. He in turn grinned back and pulled out a fresh case with a wide smile and a story about the jungles it came from -- extracted from the snakes themselves, by himself.

Ah yes, it was a seller's day, the Madame knew. She did not, however, stop the massage. It was not time...

She felt then a rustling in the air, and she cut her eyes towards the stable in the distance. A short sound echoed among the other many noises. Was that the cry of a horse or a child? And just then a thrush of sparrows darted from the corners and overhangs of that building she spied.

A wise grin crossed her lips. A few more minutes, she thought.


Madame D'Alaireux followed, not too closely, on the pretense of retrieving her Arabian. She saw two young ladies pass Chakotay by, then start to giggle. As they passed her, she could easily make out--

"Oh yes, they did it -- no doubt about that. Better call the preacher."

"Or Mister Suder the mortician."

Looking ahead again, she saw Chakotay had stopped. Madame D'Alaireux moved steadily towards the troth. From the stable appeared the young lady, straightly dressed -- though her hair was hastily set and marked with hay, as was the rest of her clothing. Swiftly, though, the lady moved off, away from her father, slipping into an alleyway.

Chakotay had mot moved.

Ironically, Madame D'Alaireux smiled.

Ropes of pleasure and ropes of pain -- the future and the past. Intertwined.

Drawing the bridle from the post, Madame D'Alaireux slowly led her horse down the mainway, patient to arrive where she was destined to go.

She saw in the corner of her eye Chakotay Torres go into the stable. But she did not deviate. Upon arriving at the alley, she cast an understanding look upon the girl desperately trying to straighten herself up and in short order.

"Pardon," she said quietly and the young woman spun around. "Don't be frightened. I will help you." She held a gentle hand toward the lady. "Madame D'Alaireux, and I believe I am at your service, Madamoiselle. Come, and I will help you recompose yourself."

"Thanks," B'Elanna said, not a little suspicious as she regarded the unusual woman and her boldly displayed weaponry. "That's nice of you, but I really think I should--"

"Madamoiselle," the lady said quietly, "I believe..." and she turned her eyes to the sun for a moment, " is time for refreshments, yes? Please allow me to assist you. Your lover might require it soon."

B'Elanna straightened and stared at her.

"There is trouble to come, a dark cloud on your lover's head hangs, and your father carries it there. There is misconception and bitterness, and yet nobility in those men who love you. You will need to be strong, B'Elanna, for both of them and for yourself today. Let me help you."

There was an odd truth about her expression and in her tone, B'Elanna thought. She did not trust her still, but somehow felt she should listen.

Finally, B'Elanna sighed and gave a nod. "Okay."

Madame D'Alaireux smiled and pulled a hairbrush from her pocket. "I had a little feeling you might need it," she said, and handed it to her.