Sex is not the answer. Sex is the question. "Yes" is the answer. ~Swami X

Jim Kirk squinted through the unfamiliar windshield at the unfamiliar road signs. Surely this city wasn't so big that he couldn't find his way back to the hotel. And why did the GPS that came as standard equipment seem to think he was in Las Vegas? Were the satellites on the blink all at once?

Sighing in defeat, he pulled to the side of the road, reaching for his cell phone to call for directions. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and lowered the tinted passenger side window.

"You are lost," a Vulcan informed him. Jim studied the Vulcan as he did the same to Jim.

"Good guess," Jim agreed. The Vulcan was probably not quite as young as he appeared, his long black hair caught in a braid. The points of his ears were barely visible through his thick black hair, his distinctive eyebrows hidden by his unusually long bangs. "Can you tell me how to get to the Beverly Hills Wiltshire?"

"I will for 30 credits," the Vulcan responded, his arms resting on the opening of the window.

"You can't charge for directions," Jim replied, half amused, half annoyed.

"I may when you are the one who is incapable of returning to your desired location without my assistance," the Vulcan said. The Vulcan stood, eyeing the car Jim was driving. "As you can afford to drive a Ferrari, even a rented one, you can afford 30 credits for the information you require."

"Fine," Jim agreed, reaching into the pocket of his tailored pants. "Fine."

"I will guide you," the Vulcan said, slipping into the car and settling on the leather seat. "It is state law that you engage your seat belt."

Jim stared at him wide-eyed for a few seconds before reaching back for his mostly ignored seat belt. Buying directions. A safety lecture. An unexpected passenger. This night was getting weirder by the second. "All right. Directions?"

"Credits?" the Vulcan said, his long-fingered hand outstretched.

Jim dropped the credit chip in his hand, staring at him as he waited.

"Proceed to the third stoplight and turn east."

"East?" Jim repeated.

"Left."

Jim nodded, putting the car into gear and driving quickly and smoothly down to the third light. When it turned green, he turned left onto the one-way street lined with a single row of towering palm trees. Trees that looked slightly ridiculous and far too unnatural for his tastes.

"You are aware that the local speed limit is 35," the Vulcan informed him, his voice calm despite the death grip he had on the door handle.

Jim glanced at the speedometer that read 53 and eased off the gas. "No cops around."

"That is no excuse to exceed the posted limits," the Vulcan said.

"Fine," Jim agreed, looking over at the more relaxed Vulcan. "Do you have a name?"

"Spock," he replied. "Do you?"

"Jim."

Spock nodded once, pointing ahead. "At the second light, you will turn north. Right."

Jim did it, periodically glancing over at his unexpected passenger. He couldn't fail to notice the sculpted cheekbones, the long neck, and the sleek body that would be even more sensuous if there were a few more pounds on him. The very tight black jeans and even tighter nearly-sleeveless black tee shirt left nothing to the imagination. Which was clearly the intent. "I don't think I've ever met a Vulcan hooker before."

Spock shrugged, staring straight ahead.

"You been in the business long?"

"Long enough to know how to take care of myself. How to avoid answering impertinent questions."

Jim laughed at his response, causing to Spock to look over at him. "You always so honest?"

"It is a Vulcan trait," Spock admitted. "As you are not a sexual client, I see no reason to avoid answering your questions truthfully."

"I see," Jim said. "Do you accept male and female clients?"

"Yes. And those with no distinguishable gender characteristics."

"If they aren't any particular gender, what do you do?"

"What they ask of me. It is quite…fascinating," Spock said, pointing to the next stoplight. "Turn left here."

Jim did it, following the next three rapidly delivered directions until they pulled up in front of the hotel. They left the low-slung car, Jim tossing the keys to the waiting valet. "How will you get back?"

"Public transportation remains available," Spock informed him, turning to walk toward the main thoroughfare as the Ferrari roared down the drive.

"It'll take you an hour to get back," Jim said, wondering why he cared.

"53 minutes," Spock responded, Jim laughing at his precision. Jim closed the distance between them, guiding Spock into the deeper shadows. Spock simply watched Jim as the Human considered his next words.

"How much for you to stay the night?" Jim asked quietly, not breaking eye contact.

"50 credits," Spock said.

"You charge 30 credits for directions and 50 credits for the night?" Jim asked, clearly skeptical.

"The time in which it took me to guide you here and to return may have taken away an opportunity to be hired. I did not charge you for the entire amount I might have missed," Spock explained reasonably.

"Then if you stay the night, I only owe you 20 credits," Jim pointed out.

Spock shook his head at that. "Sexual relations cost 50 credits."

Jim sighed, looking Spock up and down once more. There was something tempting and alluring about this Vulcan. Jim couldn't explain it and he was frankly tired of spending the nights alone except for reruns of bad TV shows he never would watch except for the company they provided. "All right. 50 credits," Jim agreed, turning toward the front door, certain Spock would follow.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder to where Spock remained unmoving. "What?"

"You do not intend for me to enter through the front door," Spock said, an implied question in his tone.

"I do. No one will say anything to either of us."

"It is…unseemly," Spock said stubbornly.

"Are you worried about their reaction to me? Or to you?" Jim asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Both," Spock said. "Even this hotel must have a less-traveled entrance."

Jim shook his head but turned and went in the direction opposite of the front door. Rounding the side of the elegant building brought them to a heavy wooden door with a key reader next to it. After swiping his electronic key, Jim pulled open the unlatched door, waving Spock inside.

Jim went left to the two discreet elevators, punching the up button, aware of Spock's eyes on him the entire time. When the elevator doors were closed, Jim swiped his card again before pressing the button that read 'penthouse.'

"You are occupying the penthouse," Spock said, the barest hint of awe in his tone.

Jim shrugged it off, watching the numbers count up. When the elevator came to a stop, they exited into a plush hallway, low lights illuminating the thick carpeting and rich wallpaper. Spock waited as Jim swiped his key, pushing the door open and allowing Spock to enter first.

The penthouse was even larger and more luxurious than Spock had ever thought possible. They entered the marble-floored foyer, two steps leading down to the huge living room. It was furnished with at least three couches, several high back arm chairs, numerous ottomans, and an assortment of square tables, some of which held glass vases filled with deep red roses and pale pink orchids. Other tables held sculptures and lamps and objects Spock could not readily identify.

Jim went down the steps, unbuttoning his jacket and loosening his tie. He glanced back at Spock who was still standing at the top of the steps. "It's just us," Jim laughed. "No one is going to tell you to wipe your feet or don't sit on the furniture."

Spock descended the steps, still mesmerized by the luxury of the room. There were two open doorways, one which revealed a dining room, and one that seemed to be a smaller sitting room. He assumed the bedrooms were down the hallway past the dining room.

"Do you want something to drink?" Jim asked. He was standing behind a fully loaded bar situated against one wall.

"Water," Spock requested, moving closer. His attention was drawn to the windows he could see through a small opening in the silk curtains.

"There's a button on the far wall," Jim said as he poured water into one glass, Pepsi into another. "It opens the curtains."

Spock easily found the button, watching the curtains part to reveal a wide balcony with a spectacular view of the skyline of the city, the twinkling lights looking peaceful and enchanting.

"Can you see Vulcan from here?" Jim asked when he stood beside Spock.

Spock shook his head at the question. "It is too distance. It is possible to see it using the Tycho telescope."

"Have you? Seen it?"

"I have not."

Jim nodded as he looked back out over the skyline. "I have some business I need to deal with. Would you mind waiting in the sitting room?"

"I have no objections," Spock said. "As you are purchasing my time, I will do what is required."

"Thanks," Jim laughed softly, leading Spock to the sitting room. "I doubt you watch TV but here's the remote just in case."

Spock accepted it, studying it but not as though he was trying to understand it. He seemed familiar with its purpose and its operation.

"Do you want something to eat?" Jim asked, watching Spock with a slight smile.

"Thank you, no," Spock said, sitting gracefully on the floor, his long legs folded in front of him. He looked up at Jim, waiting. As he had nothing else to add, Jim nodded and left the sitting room.

~o0o~

It was approximately 20 minutes later that Jim joined Spock in the sitting room. Spock was mesmerized by the program on the TV, barely glancing at Jim as he entered. Jim sat in one of the comfortable chairs, watching Spock watch the program. It was a Masterpiece Theater bio-pic of T'Pral, the Vulcan composer known for her magnificent operas - soaring, sweeping depictions of life's most common dramas.

When the show ended, Spock switched off the TV and swiveled to face Jim, looking up at him. "What sort of business are you in?"

"Why?" Jim asked, silently amused by the question. Amused and not especially surprised.

"You have the demeanor of someone accustom to being listened to, obeyed. Yet you also appear… aloof and indifferent."

"I do?" Jim asked with a secret smile.

"Indeed. You are not a lawyer. You are not a celebrity in the traditional sense." Spock studied him momentarily, his head slightly tilted to one side. "Who are you?"

Jim shrugged, sipping his Pepsi. "It makes no real difference."

"I suppose not," Spock agreed, moving closer to Jim until he was kneeling between his knees. "What do you desire?"

Jim shrugged again, looking down Spock. "What do you do?"

"Anything you wish. The only exception being kissing."

"That's fine. I don't kiss either," Jim said, slightly breathless from the sensation of Spock's warm hand strategically placed over his hardening cock.

Spock did not break eye contact as he reached for Jim's belt, opening it and his pants. Skilled, knowledgeable hands bared Jim's erection, Spock stroking it in all the right ways. When he leaned ever closer and licked the moisture off the tip, Jim had to close his eyes against the growing sensations. Spock definitely knew what he was doing, of that Jim was certain.