The Presidio, Pt. 3: Knock On My Door
Posted on May 27th, 2021 by Scott Ammora

San Francisco, Earth, May 2397
Starfleet Academy Dormitory, The Next Morning

Looking at the clock for the millionth time, Scott rolled over. It was still early… or late… he wasn’t quite sure anymore. He had returned from the viewpoint exhausted, but invigorated at the same time, and couldn’t fathom falling asleep. He tried. And he slept a little. But it wasn’t restful sleep. It was and it wasn’t. He’d close his eyes and wake up thinking minutes had passed only to realize that a full REM cycle had been completed. That had been followed by more adjustments of sheets and pillows for a short time before descending again into a light slumber.

0800 had come too quickly. Scott hadn’t set an alarm – he assumed that most wouldn’t on the Saturday after a night out with his friends. He still remembered the evening before as if sleep had never taken hold. His mind replayed the interactions with his classmates, and the wandering that ended overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. Was that real? Did that happen? That uncertainty had plagued him all while lying in bed, in what dreams he could recall, and was ever-present as he laid aglow in the early-morning sunlight.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night at the club.”

Who did this guy think he was? They had exchanged few words while at the Presidio Nightclub. A casual hello, a simple drink order, and a customary thank you while accepting a beverage was all that Scott remembered of the tall, dark, handsome, mysterious, observant, non-threatening, sensual stranger. Every time Scott recalled those moments he added another adjective to his description of the man. That was either good or bad; Scott didn’t know. So many things he didn’t know.

Tumbling out of bed he made for the sonic shower. He felt refreshed when the cycle had concluded and stepped out into the cooler air of his dorm room. Scott wrapped a towel around his waist as he walked to his dresser, grabbing some lightweight workout pants and a t-shirt. As he put them on the bed he glanced down at his clubbing attire on the floor before him. They had been shed not three meters past the door before he crawled under the sheets and they hadn’t been touched since.

“Damn it.” Club life wasn’t anything he had ever been interested in. He rarely ventured to an establish such as Persidio, but going two nights in a row was even less of an occurrence. What was he to wear when he went out again on consecutive days? If he went again.

Yes, of course Scott was going to go! The night hadn’t ended like he had planned, or wanted, but he didn’t actually comprehend if he had had any goal or intention at all. The guy was attractive, ungodly so, and smooth as a freshly-polished bat’leth. And the kiss… THE KISS. The guy’s lips were supple, they matched Scott’s easily, and there was just the right amount of romance, hesitation, and surprise in it all. And he was smart and observant: he just seemed to know everything. And, truth be told, what mystery man didn’t know he was alluringly coy about bringing it out of Scott no matter the standard flirtatious deflections Scott had employed.

No, no, no, Scott wasn’t going to go. The guy had been a borderline stalker. Following someone on a lamp-lit pathway after midnight wasn’t normal. And the kiss… THE KISS. That could have been construed as an assault! Who does that?! And the assumption that after all of that one could just say ‘Be There’ as if Scott was just someone who would follow orders blindly was infuriating. Insulting! Arrogant! Scott was glad the guy had disappeared into the blackness of the night. He would’ve shown him what for if he hadn’t. Would he have? The dude towered over him by a good amount.

And he hadn’t even gotten the stranger’s name.

There was a twinge of subconscious concern. This was how those ‘Special Reports’ start: Young Academy Cadet Goes Missing Moments from Home, Promising Starfleet Officer Disappears during End-of-Year Revelry, Federation Citizen Victim of Nighttime Clubbing after leaving Night Club, and so many more headlines would follow. After all, if it bleeds it leads.

During his internal monologue Scott found himself down the hallway and around the corner to Pasha’s room. He pressed his fingers repeatedly into the door chime, hearing it go off frantically on the other side over and over again, “Come on, come on, come on.” But there was no answer. Scott leaned onto the wall, placing his hands over his head: what now? Pasha was his sounding board, his Jiminy Cricket, and the person who would know exactly what to say that was exactly right, that would send him on the exact right path. Damn you, Jason Rehn. On the same token, Scott thought, Damn you, Ryan Rehn.

He took a breath. He didn’t know what to do.

“I know why you’re here,” Pasha Pruitt strolled up Scott, clad in workout clothes from what Scott could only guess was her early morning beach trot. “I’m a lucky girl: two handsome men standing at my door in less than 24-hours.”

“Except I don’t plan on trying to sleep with you.”

“Flattery will you get you nowhere.”

Scott chuckled, “You really need to reassess what you think is flattery. How was he? I always wondered.”

Pasha opened her quarters and walked inside, “You know I don’t kiss and tell.”

Scott followed, “I know that, but you fuck and tell-all, so how was he?”

“I do not…”

“Bryan Ducaine, Kevin Tilton, Jeremiah whatever-his-last-name was, Travix, Ian Gaines, his brother Phillip…”

Pasha threw up a hand, “I get it.”

“And that was just year one.” Scott grinned, throwing himself on the couch, exasperated. “Part of year one, I should say.”

Pasha replicated some yogurt and granola and sat down at the table, “I don’t appreciate you calling me a whore just now.”

“Your word, not mine.”

She munched on her breakfast silently while Scott stared at the ceiling. Pasha polished off her food and put the dish in the recycling unit and sat down on the couch next to him, lifting his legs and putting them on her lap, “So, what about you? What’s going on in Ammora-land? You only do this when something is on your mind. Talk, Scotty.”

He then regaled her with the tale of the previous night’s events. The end of the evening at the club, the long walk to the Presidio viewpoint, the encounter with the handsome stranger – all of it. She watched him, hanging on every word, as he recanted the play-by-play. He walked her through the uncertainty, the awkwardness, the excitement, and the culmination as the figure receded into the dark. As he went along Pasha’s smile grew bigger and bigger, punctuated by the occasional squeeze on his legs with a showing of support and excitement. Excitement that Scott wasn’t sure he shared.

“And that’s it.” He said as he concluded the tale.

“So you’re going, you know that, right?” Pasha stated matter-of-factly as she pushed his legs off her lap and stood. “But we’ve got to get you a new outfit. You can’t show up to the same club again after wearing what you wore yesterday. I don’t think anything I have will fit you, but I could make you look cute.”

Scott put his hands to his face, “I don’t think I need a pair of sensible heels and a mini-skirt for this.”

“Well, you know who you could ask – ”

“Don’t say it.”

“Mark has an entire wardrobe for philandering.”

“No, but thanks for calling me a whore just now.”

She dragged him up off the sofa, “Your word, not mine.” She gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “I apologize for sounding trite, but we miss 100% of the opportunities that we don’t take. You told me last night to live a little. So, I’m saying the same thing. Live a little, Scott. This guy sounds dreamy and mysterious to me. And I think he does to you too because you wouldn’t be here looking sullen and unsure if you didn’t agree and weren’t searching for affirmation. Go talk to Mark and get something sexy to wear. I expect to see a ‘Do Not Disturb’ notification on your door tomorrow morning.”

Scott nodded absently, agreeing with her but still not entirely convinced. “If I go missing…”

“The guy works at the most popular place in town: do you think he’d risk abduction or anything knowing full well that you probably talked to people about your meeting late last night? You play too many murder holonovels, my friend.” She punched him playfully in the arm, “And if we can’t find your body, I can guarantee you that they won’t find his either. I’m guessing Valin knows some ways to make someone vanish.”

“Yeah, but assassination isn’t logical.”

Pasha moved Scott slowly towards the doors, “Neither is friendship or romance, sometimes. We got you. Stop throwing up obstacles and go meet the boy! Regardless, if things go south, rest assured – gravely – that I’ll plan an awesome wake.”

“Reassuring. Thanks Pash.”

“Get out and let me know how it goes.”

The doors swished open and he moved into the corridor, gazing back over his shoulder, “I don’t kiss and tell!”

“But you – ” Her retort was cut short as the doors sealed shut. And she laughed.

*****

It was a short walk to Mark’s quarters. But it was probably the longest walk Scott had ever taken. He didn’t want to ask for help, but Pasha was right in that if he was going to go back for a second night to the club he couldn’t be seen wearing the same clothes. It was a necessary evil of social life that one had to look dapper and prepared at every turn. Scott hadn’t gone out two nights in a row in a long time, and he wasn’t ready for it. But, hopefully, Mark would help.

Scott hesitantly tapped the button to the right of the door and waited.

The door opened and a shirtless Mark in only his Starfleet-issue under garments greeted him. “Hey Scott, now isn’t a great time…”

Pushing passed his classmate, Scott moved into the living room. “I need your help.”

“Scott, I really think you should come back later.”

A woman pulled up the sheets in the bed rather fiercely, blushing as she did so, meeting eyes with Scott. “Hi.” It was the woman whom Mark had left with the previous night. No matter what happened, he would always give it to Mark that he knew how to pick them and close the deal. Misogynistic as the playboy was, he would always recognize his friend’s ability to not go to bed alone.

“Hi.” Scott gave a look to Mark, who blew it off, folding his arms across his bare chest. “I need some clothes.”

Mark nodded, “You and me both.”

“There’s this guy, and he wants to see me tonight, and I don’t know what it means or what it entails, and I don’t normally do this. I have one set of clothes when I go out and I wore them yesterday, and Pasha recommended I talk to you. I didn’t want to come here, but I also could only think of Valin to ask for help and that would mean wearing some sort of Vulcan mating garb. And he’s taller than me, by so much, that I’d probably look like I was a ten-year-old boy wearing his dad’s clothes. So it’s you… so that I don’t look like I can’t socialize, and you always looks good and have a different ensemble every night…” Scott realized he was rambling. The discomfort he was feeling with the half-naked woman in the bed, Mark’s half-naked frame (which he found horribly alluring, but was ignoring it), and his own frantic pacing was starting to get the better of him.

“And…? Mark said, unmoving.

“Help?”

Shaking his head, Mark moved to the bed and sat down on the edge. “I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t. But she can. Right Annabel?”

Scott’s eyes moved from Mark to the female. She met his gaze with a smile. “I think I can figure something out. Step into the hall, please, and let me get more presentable. Him too.” She motioned to Mark as she leaned forward and put her head on his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, of course. Sorry.”

The next ninety minutes were a whirlwind. Scott stood in the middle of the room as this girl – Annabel – scanned him with a tricorder, mumbled incoherent notes to herself, and disappeared into Mark’s closet more times than Scott could count. She apparently was a fashion designer from Risa in San Francisco for a conference. It was either luck or a nightmare, but Scott was just going with it. He had accepted the fact that he was, indeed, going to the Presidio Nightclub that night. He had past the point of no return.

There were some uncomfortable moments, to be sure, as she gripped his thighs, scanned his neck, and at one point, pulled his shirt off to examine his torso. All the while Mark was laughing to himself, drinking coffee, and tapping away at a PADD across the room at the dining table. Scott felt exposed, but he steeled himself to the ‘greater good’ as he let the woman work. After all, she was a professional. Right? He hoped that the profession she was proficient in was, truly, fashion.

In the end, he left with a golden-colored collared shirt, underneath a black cardigan, and black slacks. He felt ‘okay’ with the selection, but it wasn’t his forte to decide. He trusted Annabel, though not knowing her, and trusted Mark, though not really at all. Scott didn’t know what he was doing, but felt that this was a better foot forward than trying to come up with something himself.

“Thank you, Annabel, it was a pleasure.” He exaggerated his happiness in the experience.

“I can dress you, but it’s up to you to wow the pants off him, literally… if you know what I’m saying.”

Scott suddenly was uncomfortable again, “Uh, yeah, I get the gist.”

Mark walked Scott to the door. “You look good, man. Glad I could help.” He hadn’t. He’d still attempt to take credit for it. And he’d talk about it a lot. And there would be no end of ribbing Scott about the time he helped his friend get laid, utilizing his one-night companion to dress him. He popped Scott’s collar across the brim of the neckline of the sweater and patted him playfully on the shoulder. “Go get ‘em. And, next time, do me a favor, and call ahead?”

“Thanks and yes.”

“Let me give you some advice: Show him who you are without being too much… you know… you.” Mark smiled. “Funny, it’s always like you to come a day-late to the party.”

Scott rolled his eyes, “Advice that should go down in history. I’ll bring these clothes back.”

“Do me a favor and make sure they look a little worse for the wear, okay?” Mark winked as the doors opened and he gave a gentle shove to his friend out into the hallway. “Wrinkled, disheveled, whatever. Just have a good time and stop thinking so much.”

Protesting, Scott turned abruptly, “I’m not – ” And he was stifled by the hiss of the doors closing.

*****

Staring at the outfit hanging on the hook in the bathroom, Scott was still reticent. He was excited and nervous, anxious and hopeful, but he was also every bit uncertain of what the night would bring. The ensemble that Annabel had created was… okay. It wasn’t him, per se, but it was better than wearing the same thing twice. It was fine. It was handsome. It looked good. Though Scott still had misgivings.

The lingering thought on his mind was that he didn’t want to fly solo. Did that look desperate? Did that look too eager? All of the swirling emotions and questions in his mind were jading him to the overall intention – to figure out who this guy was. The prospect of a ‘blind date’ was enticing. Any date was alluring in Scott’s current state of bachelorhood. All of that aside, he still didn’t know exactly what to say, what to do, or how to act. He was, proverbially, a fish out of water.

Maybe he needed another presence. Someone smart and astute in observation. Maybe someone more logical in assessing his predicament. Logical. Yes, of course! Scott’s mind exploded with possibilities as he headed out in the corridor once again with a new destination in mind.

After a dozen meters or so he signaled his presence by using the door chime for the third time in as many hours. The door whisked open, revealing his Vulcan friend. The quarters behind him were dark, curtains drawn, lit simply with a couple of candles and not anything else to illuminate the surroundings. “Valin.”

“Mr. Ammora – ”

He rolled his eyes, “Scott, please.”

Valin ignored Scott’s correction unlike how he had at the club entrance the evening previous. “How can I assist you?”

Scott resisted the urge to barge in like he had in Mark’s quarters, remembering the uncomfortable moment with Annabel, “I could use your help.”

“Your arrival is without notification, nor do you look in danger. I can only postulate that this encounter is of a personal nature.” Vulcans always had a knack of diagnosing and seeing through generalities. He was right, however, and Scott stared blankly at him. There was a shimmer of uncomfortableness before Valin stepped back and ushered Scott inside. “Computer, lights to 80%.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

Valin blew out the candles and swiveled to meet Scott’s gaze. “I plan on studying the intricacies of a Vulcan tactical master. One, Mr. V’Tek, circa 2289, who derived a defense strategy that inhibited an uprising on one of our Vulcan colonies from a native species that was not enthralled with the idea of a Vulcan Science Embassy on their soil, let alone their research on the indigenous plant, animal, and local population. It was a quite complex utilization of natural resources, intuition, and cultural superstition that allowed my people to non-violently subdue what could have been a devastating revolt with considerable bloodshed.”

There weren’t any words in Scott’s brain to figure that one out. “Riveting way to spend a Saturday.”

“Indeed. Why do you inquire about my night’s festivities?”

“Want to join me at Presidio again tonight?”

Valin perked an eyebrow, “Did we not already complete the celebration of the end of our third year yesterday?”

“We did, but this is different. Long story short, there’s a guy that I want to go see and I could use… company.” Scott said simply, not sure how to elaborate more on his intentions. He just didn’t want to go alone.

Valin nodded, “I am unavailable, as I have recently stated.”

“Come on, an hour or two?” He heard the desperation in his voice, but was unsure why that element laced his dialogue.

“I think you’d be better off to attend the soiree without me. Given that you mean to interact with a potential suitor, my presence would be more of a hindrance than a benefit.” Valin stood unmoving in front of Scott. “When compared to someone like myself that carries a higher intellectual ability, physical prowess, and perceptively better qualities of biological merit, I would only serve as a distraction.”

Scott’s brain processed the words Valin was saying slower than he cared to admit. Did he just dog me? He narrowed his eyes, “I don’t like that you’re exploring the idea of humor. It’s uncomfortably succinct.”

“I apologize if my attempts are more derogatory than humorous.”

Scott laughed, “You’re fine. It’s just… weird. Thanks anyway. Enjoy your research.” And he headed for the door.

Valin took a step forward, unlike his normally-stoic posture had always presented itself. “Mr. Amm – Scott. You don’t need companionship to be at ease in your forthcoming encounter. You need to be true to who you are as a human being. If this gentleman you spoke of is interested in a relationship, then you need to be open to that possibility; however, potential partnership can be daunting. Hesitation will only breed nervousness that could undermine the formation of a bond between the two of you.”

“Humor and relationship advice in the same meeting, Valin? San Francisco is changing you.”

There may have been a tiny smirk… a most-Vulcan smirk that would never be categorized as an actual smirk… as Valin moved back to his table ‘cluttered ‘neatly with PADDs. “As the colloquialism goes, please do not hold your breath that the change is permanent.”

Nodding, Scott walked out the door, calling over his shoulder, “Not quite right in the wording, but I’ll take it!” As the entrance to Valin’s quarters closed, Scott held his head up and puffed out his chest. He was ready to meet his handsome stranger: he had enthusiasm, he had nice clothes, and he had a Vulcan’s advice. That was the Friendship Trifecta. Game on.