"Higher emotions, and table manners."

"Tell me, Deanna, have you ever had really good s.e.x? Or is that just a theory to you?"

She actually laughed at that. "You really can't figure me out, can you, Lieutenant. You think that all you have to do is smile at me, wink devilishly, overpower me with your charm and strength, and I will willingly succ.u.mb to your overwhelming manliness."

"Something like that."

"Commander, welcome to the twenty-fourth century. I don't know what goes on on Earth, or even aboard starships... but on Betazed, a woman wants more from a man than for him to simply be a strong hero figure. Someone who is going to carry the helpless damsel off in his big, muscular arms, causing her to swoon and give herself over to him in hot and sweaty throes of pa.s.sion. Women aren't like that here. I'm not like that."

"No, of course not. You're much too busy doing precisely what Mommy tells you, and being precisely what she wants you to be, to let yourself be influenced by anyone as down-and-dirty as me."

Her expression was not a particularly pleasant one. "Listen, do you want to do this or not?"

"Sure. Sure. You were going to show me how to separate the needs of my mind from the needs of my body."

"All right. It's very simple, really. I want you to get a solid grip on the branch, just like I'm doing." He followed her demonstration and she continued, "Then we're going to just drop off from the branch and hang on for as long as possible."

"This is a test of muscular strength... which seems kind of silly, since obviously I'm stronger than you. So if this is some sort of compet.i.tion..."

"The only one you're going to compete with, Lieutenant, is yourself. And furthermore, it has nothing to do with muscular strength because muscles, and the body, invariably have limits, no matter how well trained they are. You reach a point that can't be surpa.s.sed. But the properly trained mind, on the other hand, has no limits. Ready? And... go."

Deanna dropped down off the branch and hung there, her feet suspended more than a meter above the ground. Riker did likewise.

He stared at her, noticing that her toes were not pointed downward, but rather were straight out. Her eyes were fluttering closed as she said in a low, melodious tone, "Now... sooner or later, your fingers will want to release. Your instinct will be to fight this impulse. Do not fight it. Instead... simply ignore it. Banish it to the inner core of your being, and instead focus on something else."

"Like what?"

"Like anything. Anything that will take your mind away from your body-the sky. The clouds. Birds in flight. The creation of a star. Anything to disa.s.sociate yourself from the demands of the physical. Now do what I'm doing-bring an image to mind, a focal image. Close your eyes. Breathe slowly and steadily. In through your nose, out through your mouth, like this," and she demonstrated. "Slowly, steadily, gradually... that's it."

Riker had closed his eyes, but now he turned and peered again through narrowed lids at Deanna.

She seemed perfectly at ease. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were rising and falling so slowly that the motion was almost imperceptible.

Clear his mind. Think about something else other than the fact that his fingers were starting to ache a bit, and his upper arms were feeling a tad numb.

He thought about Deanna.

He pictured her as he had first seen her at the wedding-naked and smiling.

She stood on a beach, having just come out of the water, her body covered with thin rivulets of moisture. She shook her head in slow motion, water spraying out in all directions from her thick hair. Then she came toward him slowly, smiling, her arms outstretched toward him, her fingers gesturing for him to approach her...

Her fingers waving... her arms outstretched...

He felt an ache growing beyond his ability to ignore it. He opened his eyes and found that his fingers were covered with perspiration and were slipping, losing their grip. He tried desperately to readjust, but now his fingers felt nerveless. He had no idea how long he had been hanging there, for he had lost track of time... but however long it was, it was enough for him to have lost all feeling above the elbows.

With a low, muttered curse, he dropped from the branch and landed with a hard thud.

He sat there, dusting himself off, and looked up.

Deanna was still hanging there. Serenely. Calmly. Looking as if she had all the time in the world. Her eyes were still closed, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s still rising and failing at the exact same pace as before... no. As a matter of fact, they were moving even more slowly.

He sat there and watched her, shaking his arms to try to restore circulation.

Deanna hung there.

As blood began to return to Riker's upper arms, he felt a fierce pain, and he winced as he touched the abraded skin on his palms. He looked back to his teacher.

Deanna hung there.

And hung there.

He had no idea how long it was... ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Maybe longer. Her slim body continued to display no ill effects whatsoever.

After what seemed an interminable length of time, Deanna began to rock back and forth, slowly and gently. Her eyes remained closed. She gained enough momentum to swing upward like a gymnast, wrapping her legs up and around the branch and bringing herself back to sitting.

"What are you doing down there?"

"What are you doing up there?" he countered. "Finally get tired?"

"No. I could have continued that way for quite some time. A shame that you couldn't. Maybe the weight of all those muscles dragged you down. What an inconvenience, being so much stronger than little me."

He stood, brushing himself off, and walked toward the base of the trunk. As he did so, Deanna clambered upward, standing on the branch as if she were a tightrope walker. She looked completely at ease.

"All right, you've proven your point," he said, trying to keep the disgust out of his voice. "You can climb down now."

Deanna took a step toward the trunk so that she could get a grip and descend...

And her foot slipped.

Her arms pinwheeling, and with a startled shriek, Deanna lost her balance and tumbled off.

Riker, still a short distance away, moved like lightning. His arms outstretched, he skidded in and caught Deanna before she hit. But he hadn't had time to brace himself, and the weight of her carried him down. He dropped to his knees, the shock rattling his teeth, but he still held on to her.

Reflexively her arms had gone around his neck. She tried to compose herself, automatically doing the breathing exercise to regain her equilibrium. Riker, meantime, shook his head briskly. Then he looked at her... and grinned ear to ear.

He got to his feet, still holding her in his arms. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. You can put me down-"

Their faces had been mere inches from each other, and Riker now seized the initiative. He kissed her full on the lips.

They held like that for a long time, and he felt her body go limp. And then she just seemed to melt against him, and reflexively her hands squeezed his shoulder blades, as it' afraid he might vanish, or the moment might end.

But ultimately it was she who ended it, breaking off with an audible popping sound. "Put me down," she whispered.

He grinned and said, "But we were just getting-"

Put me down NOW!

He dropped her.

He hadn't intended to do it. But the imperative was so startling and so overwhelming that it caught him completely unaware. She fell at his feet and, quickly scrambling to hers, backed away from him.

"I heard you," he said, "in my head. That must mean I'm getting better at this. Right?"

"You couldn't have heard me in your head."

"I know I-"

"You couldn't have!" she said with an infuriated stomp of her foot.

She turned away from him in an obvious attempt to compose herself. He made no move toward her, stayed as far from her as he could.

She was in pain. My G.o.d, she was in pain over him.

At that moment, he cleared his mind because instinctively, he didn't want to think or even feel anything that she might pick tip on and cause her more distress. Just like that, he was suddenly thinking about nothing at all. And he fell totally relaxed.

"Deanna-"

She said nothing. Her hands were pressed against each other, palm to palm, and she had slowed her breathing down. When she did turn back to face him, all the confusion was gone. Instead she was fit with inner calm.

"Your problem earlier," she said, sounding very clinical, "was that you were once again entertaining erotic thoughts about me. All that did was focus you on the needs of your body. You can't put yourself beyond those needs if you use that as your focal point. You should watch out for that, Lieutenant."

"Really." He took a step toward her. "Well, you know what I think, Miss Troi. I think your body and mind aren't quite as synchronized as you like to think. I think your body wanted to fall into my arms, contrary to what your mind might think of me. And so your ever-so-sure feet deliberately betrayed you."

"I subconsciously threw myself at you, is what you're saying?" She laughed lightly.

"It's possible, yes."

Again she laughed. "No, Lieutenant. It's not possible. For your information, a piece of bark broke off, and that's what caused me to slip. That's all. If you look around on the ground, I'm sure you'll find where it fell. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

She turned and walked off. He called after her, "When is our next lesson?" But she didn't respond.

He spent the next twenty minutes searching every inch of the ground, trying to find the stray piece of bark.

But he never did.

CHAPTER 20.

Dinner that night in the Troi household was subdued. The only sound was a persistent and gentle chiming as Mr. Homn stood at the middle of the table repeatedly striking the small instrument that gave thanks to the G.o.ds of Betazed for the food being eaten.

Lwaxana kept glancing up at Deanna. Her daughter seemed preoccupied this evening, her gaze and thoughts focused entirely toward herself. When, out of habit, Lwaxana sent a gentle and subtle probe into her daughter's mind to find out what was troubling her, she was astounded to find that her mental inquiry was turned aside. She could have, of course, immediately pushed more deeply and with more force, but that would have been utterly out of line. Casual mind brushing was one thing; shoving one's way in after meeting initial resistance was quite another thing entirely.

Deanna...?

There was no response, and with an annoyed air, Lwaxana resorted to the far more inconvenient, since it meant she had to disrupt her eating, verbal "Deanna."

Deanna looked up. "Yes, Mother?"

"What is troubling you, Little One?"

Her daughter smiled gamely. "Nothing, Mother."

"Casual lies?" Lwaxana looked disapproving. "First you thwart a mind brush, and then you resort to telling me that nothing is bothering you when something clearly is. I thought we were more open with each other than that, Deanna. Frankly... I'm a little hurt."

"There's no reason to be hurt, Mother, just because I don't want to share every intimate detail of my life every moment."

Lwaxana raised an eyebrow. "Intimate?"

"Mother, I don't want to get into it."

Lwaxana let a rather crude response float from her mind into Deanna's, and it got the expected reaction. Deanna flushed slightly and said, "Mother, that was uncalled for."

"Perhaps. But how accurate was it?"

"Mo-ther..."

"It's him, isn't it. That Starfleet officer, Striker."

"Riker."

"Him." Lwaxana carefully arranged her napkin in front of her and turned to her manservant. "Mr. Homn, I'll want to send a communiqu? to Starfleet."

Deanna slapped the table impatiently and said, "Don't you dare!"

She might just as easily have spit into Lwaxana's food and gotten the same response as she received. Slowly, with an air of complete and utter shock, Lwaxana turned and openly gaped at her child. "'Don't you dare'?" she repeated incredulously. Deanna looked down, her mouth moving but no sound coming. "You're telling me, "continued Lwaxana, "what I, the keeper of the Sacred Chalice of Riix, should and should not dare? May I ask you, young lady, who in the Great Fire you think you're talking to?"

"Mother, please, I'm sorry-"

"I will not be addressed in that... that cavalier, offhand manner. I am not one of your 'pals,' Deanna. I am not one of your casual acquaintances. I am certainly not one of your Starfleet friends."

"He's not a friend! He's not even... Mother, I don't even like him!"

"Then what is he?" demanded Lwaxana. "What is he to you?"

"A frustration. A big frustration, that's all. He's a... a case study in surface arrogance. He's... he's nothing. Nothing. Not on a personal level."

"Need I remind you," said Lwaxana stiffly, "of your commitment to Wyatt?"

"I know about that, Mother. But frankly, I can't believe that you're really going to hold me to that... that agreement."

"Little One, I'm not holding you to anything! This is tradition and custom we're talking about. I don't just fabricate things to inconvenience you and make your life more difficult. I simply teach you what they are and expect you to abide by them. And you, knowing your place in society and the responsibilities that place entails, are going to abide by them. Aren't you." The last was not a question.