"Damn that Jim Kirk," Worthington Van Spock IV muttered to himself; then he blushed in shame. After all, decent chaps don't swear.

Even when they were as provoked as Worthington Van Spock IV was.

And he was mightily provoked. Spock had planned a big cram session for Professor Kor's biology test, and he had invited his two best chums, Bonesy McCoy and Paulibus Chekov. But those two rascals had stood him up! Instead of meeting him on the marble steps of Jefferies Memorial Library as they were supposed to, they had hopped in the back of Jim Kirk's shiny new flivver the second Jim had shouted, "Say, fellas, I know a new speak just down the road! It's the bee's knees! Let's blow this college rodomontade and drink some!"

Worthington despised Jim Kirk. Kirk smelled of earth and labor. Worthington had half a mind to go up over to Prexy's office and demand to know why a son of tillage such as Jim Kirk was permitted to soil the precious swards of Starfleet U. It certainly hadn't been that way when Dads matriculated.

But even Prexy always beamed with pleasure when he saw Jim Kirk strolling over the college lawn with a pretty coed on each arm.

Kirk the quarterback, the pigskin genius!

Kirk the captain of the rowing team, who led Starfleet to its first oarsmen victory in twenty years!

Kirk the ukelele maestro (he'd won Prexy's heart when he played a note-perfect rendition of Missus Prexy's favorite song When You Peeked in My Gazebo)!

And now even his dearest boyhood pals, the boon companions of his heart, had abandoned him for the showier thrills of Jim Kirk's company.

Well, he'd show them. He'd study extra hard and make the best grade and Professor Kor would post his carefully scripted exercise book on the door and wouldn't Bonesy and Paulibus feel ashamed of themselves and rightly so!

Oh, no, Jefferies was a madhouse! All the Starfleet coeds were there studying for their home economics midterm! At one table, a group of girls were frantically deconstructing a dirndl, at another they were hastily sketching the cunningest floor plans for a breakfast nook , and at the biggest table twenty girls were slaving away at memorizing the exact ingredients of a Gold Star Brownie recipe. "How many marshmallows did you say?" one sobbed.

Women, he mentally sneered.

"Oh, Christine, did you see the wrist-warmers I knitted for Jim! I'll give them to him tomorrow after Latin class!" Spock heard one maiden say.

"Jim is so dreamy!" another said and sighed.

Honestly.

Then he heard them giggle and whisper when they spotted him stroll by.

Obviously he couldn't study there.

But, it would be just . . . too . . . too . . . macabre if Spock had to wend his lonely way back to the rooms he shared with Bonesy and Paulibus. After all, this business of Bonesy and Paulibus palling around Jim Kirk had happened before.

Spock sighed.

No, he did not want to return to their rooms, to the limp pennants and cold hearth, to the forlorn precision of the three bunks with their stiff and striped woolen blankets. He supposed he could get their man Montgomery to stir up another fire, but Monty was probably already at the speakeasy too (Monty liked his gin).

Then he remembered the little motto he always recited to himself; it had always brought him a certain . . . clarity of mind.

What Would Edgar Allan Poe Do?

Well, Poe would find a convenient garret and immerse himself in the finer things of the mind.

The Jefferies library had always been famous for its extensive underground tunnels. Why had they been built? No one knew, but upperclassmen had always told the gullible freshmen terrible legends. They said an escaped slave had died in the belly of Jefferies! Or else a Yankee Civil War veteran had starved to death while hiding from marauding belles! Or possibly a heartbroken Indian princess had committed suicide down there with her own obsidian knife!

Spock lifted his head.

Suppose a spook did get him? Who would care? He'd go there and write a poem, a great poem, a poem full of truths that would change the world. He pulled his tribble-skin coat tightly around him and took the stairs to the basement floor of Jefferies.

Finding the entrance was much easier than he thought it would be.

My word, it was . . . spooky. Most spooky. The spookiest.

Cobwebs, nitre dripping down the stone walls like a dungeon.

Still: What Would Edgar Allan Poe Do?

He forged on. There was a dim light at one juncture. There he spread out the old tribble-skin; then he sat down and drew out his big fountain pen and his tablet.

He bit the pen.

Let's see.

The Cave he carefully wrote.

Hmmm.

What golden woodland sprite-y doth invite me hence . . . , no, wrong mood, what, um, golden woodland minx doth caress my . . . no, not right either; wait, wait, what golden being with golden e'e,/be it devil or deity! Oh, good stuff, Worthington!

He sat back. Hmmm. Devil or deity, dum dum dee dee dee. He closed his eyes to concentrate.

My, these . . . tubes were quite comfy, quite a nice place to relax, even if in need of some repair.

He shook himself. What the . . .

There were noises emanating from down the hall. Ghostly ghastly noises, the repetitive thudding footsteps of a horrendous being.

He stood up: what was making that noise?

He peeked around the corner.

My God.

Half a dozen pale forms were standing in a circle. What . . .

He could hardly take in what he was seeing at first, but, yes, he was seeing what he was seeing.

The figures were naked men, and not just naked, but naked and . . .

There was Prexy!

And Professor Kor! Spock blinked. Good Lord, no wonder Kor taught biology. Look at the size of . . .

And there was Montgomery! His jaw slack, his hand working lazily against his prominent . . .

And by the warm illuminating glow of a lantern, they were all watching a unique tableau at the center of the circle.

It was Bonesy! Hanging naked from the pipes that crisscrossed the Jefferies tube!

Kneeling in front of him was Paulibus, also naked. And he had Bonesy's . . . membrum virile in his mouth! One of course had read of such things, but one never expected to see it. My goodness, Paulibus was good at . . .that.

And behind Bonesy was Jim Kirk, naked and making some extravagant gesture that Spock didn't quite grasp at first.

Oh, no.

Surely that was hurting Bonesy. Because clearly Jim Kirk was plunging his fist again and again into Bonesy's very fundament.

But Bonesy did not seem to mind. At all. His eyes were closed, his mouth open and emitting soft growling sighs. He undulated again and again between Kirk's insistent fist and Paulibus' soft and enticing mouth.

Spock was suddenly so stiff his ears rang.

"Jim! Don't stop!" Monty said; his manhood was so rosy, so aroused it was surely a matter of moments before he reached satiation. His hand moved in a very experienced way.

"Then it will be my turn," said Professor Kor; his eyes were gleaming. "Oh, won't I postilion this prize -- and how! My staff is hard as ivory!"

Kirk kept pounding away at Bonesy.

And Spock couldn't help noticing that Kirk naked was even more beautiful than Kirk clad.

So muscular, so beautifully proportioned, with that glorious face that drove the girls wild!

And his engorged manliness was as beautiful a one as Spock had ever seen.

The excitement had entered a new animal-like stage - both Bonesy and Monty was gasping as if they were drowning, and he saw Monty's shoulders began to shudder and white clots of seed spurted from his inflamed organ. And now Bonesy was screaming, "I come, I come, ahhh!" and Paulibus sat up a little straighter to suck in every drop that fell from Bonesy's excitement.

Then Bonesy collapsed. Kirk withdrew his fist (Spock saw he had covered his hand with one of Monty's indiarubber work gloves) and caught Bonesy. Kor rushed over to help him and, as he did, he and Kirk exchanged a wide open-mouthed kiss that left them both breathless as they untied Bonesy.

Spock couldn't help himself; he moved to get a better look. Kirk looked up at the sudden movement. "We've been caught," he whispered.

"Oh, no!" Prexy said. "Let's scurry! Here help me with Bonesy!" and he and Monty and Paulibus and Kor scuttled down the tube with Bonesy' unconscious form.

Only Kirk stood his ground. "Who goes there?" he said.

Spock stepped out of the shadows.

"Spock," Kirk said. He was still quite erect.

Spock had never been in a situation like this, but he was not displeased. Kirk looked very nice that way, very very nice. There was something pleasing, an almost erotic entasis in the broad shoulders, short-legged Priapus that was Kirk.

"Well, Jim, it seems I caught you with your pants down, as it were."

Kirk didn't answer. His soft golden eyes raked Spock's body. Then he said: "You liked what you saw, I can tell." His eyes were focused on the loose front of Spock's white flannels. "I'm right, aren't I, Spock?" he added teasingly.

Spock knew what Kirk wanted. He stuck his black fountain pen between his teeth to free his hands and then unbuttoned his trousers and brought out his engorged manhood. He stroked it, showing it off, making sure Kirk saw every inch.

Kirk's eyes grew soft and wanting. "You're bigger than Kor even."

"Yes, farm boy, now get on your knees to me." And Kirk's beautiful wide mouth was suddenly around Spock's member.

Kirk certainly knew what he was doing; Spock felt an aching tingle all through his body. And, as Kirk sucked him, he was also snaking one hand back behind Spock to pull Spock's trousers down over his firm high buttocks; Spock felt Kirk's hand caressing his backside. Then Kirk's impudent finger began to tease his puckered bottomhole. Spock rocked himself against Kirk; oh, Kirk had a silken throat, he could take all of Spock in. Sooner than he would have thought possible, he was coming, he was gasping and jerking against Kirk's throat and Kirk's finger was inside him making him feel even more thunderously than he had felt before.

Like Bonesy, he was swooning from Kirk's caresses - the ecstasy was almost too much, and he fell backwards again the hard stone of the Jefferies tube.