NC-17

Non Section Love Story between Michael and Nikita

Michael Samuelle had become a thespian by sheer providence. Like in the old Hollywood legend of people discovered at the Woolworth luncheonette Michael’s fate was just as colorful. His incredible career so far had been nothing but good work, good fortune and a remarkable recognition by the fans and peers. The exquisite looks of the man were extreme even by Hollywood standards. His soft auburn curls with gold and copper highlights were usually worn loosely and longish. His remarkable sea green eyes danced full of expression and echoed his obvious joie de vivre. Michael was tall but not gigantic, powerfully built but not burly, perfect but not obvious.

His sexuality and sensuality apparent but not overt, even his remarkable habit of touching his chin and lips displayed a captivating je ne sais quoi. On looks alone the man could have succeeded in his chosen trade, but appearances had not played any part in his rise to the top; only his art and gift had created the achievements.

He said, in his thick French Canadian cadence, “Kita look at us, look were we are, amazing how fortunate can we be?” Inside the black stretch limousine he shared with his wife Nikita, the couple tried nervously to relax, hard task given the wild ride this night promised. They laughed and spoke about the road that carried them to this night.

“You are so beautiful, how did I get so lucky.” All of a sudden he commented. “After I had to bid so high for a date with you in that MIRA charity event, I don’t think luck had anything to do with it.” She laughed.

“You don’t think the date was worth your investment.” He retorted smiling. “MIRA got a well deserved $20,000. I was planning on contributing at least that much.” She giggled as her husband kissed her bare shoulder. When he tried to kiss her mouth she swatted him away, “Stop you’ll get lipstick on those luscious lips, they are worth what… $5,000.”

He answered “At least.” And finally connected with her mouth.

She made quick little satisfied sounds bringing another warm smile to her husband's lips “Have I told you lately that I love you”? He said between kisses.

“Actually not since we left the hotel 15 minutes ago” she retorted, “You know you are the one, the only…oh hell I’ll have to send MIRA another check, I think I got a bargain” she softly bit his cheek, then his chin and finally his lower lip. “Now stop this or we will be criticized for looking rumpled.”

“Is that an English term for sexually discouraged?” he joked, “Look how you leave me Ni-ki-ta how can I concentrate when you frustrate me so…” raising his eyebrows with wounded derision. “Ust a liddle bid.” His accent thick, his voice low, he grabbed her hand to guide it, but she slapped it off. A sexy little slap that made him grunt.

They had arrived at their destination, the line of limos a quarter mile long. Theirs the same as a hundred other limos full of overdressed people for such an early hour. Nikita took out a mirror from her jeweled handbag and handed it to Michael. “Wipe your mouth.” She ordered and then took the mirror to fix her own face.

He helped his wife straighten the Christian Dior gown designed especially for her and she removed invisible lint off his Gautier tuxedo. He smiled before leaving the limo when Nikita said, “Break a leg my sweet”, remark that always caused great laughter from the pair because Nikita had broken a leg on her first catwalk-modeling assignment.

He walked unto the long red carpet outside of the Convention Center Auditorium in Hollywood. The incredible looking French Canadian actor’s thoughts rushing like a run-on sentence as he strutted and approached the stage to be interviewed by Army Archer. But the thrill for Michael and Nikita came when they approached itute who kills his lover in a night of great perfect passion. The film was yet to be titled, but promised to be a poignant recount of the preservation of a perfect moment in time. Of course was asked and graciously discussed the advantages of being married to the Super Model Nikita - "I couldn't live without her" he simple stated.

Michael repeated the stories he had told the International Press to 'Entertainment Tonight' and 'Extra', etc. With Barbara Walters, Michael relaxed somewhat and regaled the journalist with charming stories of his first encounter with her. Ms. Walters said she remembered. Michael added it had been 3 years since that interview.

Barbara said she had tried to get another interview, especially when the movie was first released to no avail. She then asked why weren't the Samuelle's more approachable, and added quickly, how she had tried sending messages through friends they had in common.

"This is exactly the reason, do you know I have told this story at least six times tonight. I would prefer to…no I invite you to visit my wife Nikita and myself at our home in Montreal, I assure you'll get a better story."

Michael's wife then was brought unto the set. The producers believed an angle, which included La Belle Nikita, would even sell better. The couple sat side by side, Michael wrapped his hands on Nikita's and placed them on his lap. He was playing with her fingers to alleviate her nerves for the blonde's nerves were already shot.

Barbara Walters had kissed the beautiful woman as she approached the set. Nikita's scarlet raw silk gown, strapless and form fitting, enhanced her blonde good looks and her marvelous blue eyes. Her hair down around her shoulders complimented the 4-carat diamond earrings and showed off the $2,000,000 Winston pin. An heirloom belonging to the famed jeweler's family loaned to the woman because of her grace and splendor.

"Tell me Nikita are those diamonds yours?" Barbara asked.

The beauty smiled, looked at Michael who now played with the platinum and 8 carat diamond bracelet and retorted, "No…these are loaners." All three laughed at the absurd comparison to some broken down automobile. The bracelet was indeed the blonde's, a present from her husband for this night, "Michael gave me this bracelet tonight."

The obvious thread of questions now diverging from Michael's work and the couple would have none of that, for they controlled the interviews they gave. So the journalist and the Samuelle's decided in an inconspicuous manner to end the interview with Nikita's remarks. All three needed to make the rounds of Oscar Parties, Michael invited Barbara on camera, to join them and of course she acquiesced.

The trio marched their elegantly clad bodies first to the Vanity Fair party. The famed magazine hosted one of the glitziest bashes with the room all done in gold and white. Both Michael and Nikita had graced its covers more than once. There they drank champagne, nibbled on perfect hors d'oeuvre and chatted with industry types.

Then unto Elton John's as customary his parties were the cheesiest and most fun. The music as to be expected was exceptional. Michael smiled and kibitzed with Celine Dion and Roy Dupuis, finally exchanging quips in Quebecois. More ridiculously expensive champagne and sinfully mouthwatering canapés with Michael reminding Nikita she needed to save room for dinner.

"I know, I know..." the awestruck blonde remarked.

Then finally unto the Academy's party by Wolfgang Puck. Nikita by then was starved and the fame Chef and Restaurateur boasted and as promised delivered, a scrumptious meal. The delicious fare caped off with white chocolate truffle centered two-inch reproductions of the statues. The blonde and her husband danced, laughed, and truly enjoyed themselves.

"Thank you Kita" Michael kissed the blonde's ear as he eddied her around the room. His hands resting comfortably on her hips, hers clasped around his neck, playing with the curls resting there. "I love you and this night will be capped with wild unbridled passion, the kind we read about in books."

"Mmm, pornographic novels or your run of the mill literature?" The blonde flirted with her husband, devilishly sensual smile on her ignored mouth.

"Oh…" he mumbled as she pressed her hips even closer, if possible, to her husband's versatile manhood, "the Khama Sutra, literature is literature."

Finally his soft lips, eyes closed, tongues dancing, wetly kissed her. The kiss lasting for eons while the cameras flashed the photograph that would circle the globe the next morning. He added, "The headlines will be reading -Samuelle wins Oscar statues and loves Statuesque Wife."

"Michael…it's time to go take a lesson in Literature." Nikita answered as she broke the next kiss.

The former French Literature professor smiled at his wife, a simple lift of the lips that made her fussy inside, "Can we play our favorite game, teacher and student?"

"Baby, I wanted to play director and actor…" she played with his bottom lip. "You mean actress?" He sucked the dutiful digit.

"No, I direct…mmm…have some really sinful scenes in mind." She now sucked the captivating lip.

"I love when you yell Action." He laughed and moved his hands down to her behind, raising his wonderful eyebrows in an exaggerated expression.

Now hand in hand the couple walked to the table and bid everyone good night. They rushed to the limo were Michael had a couple of scenes to run through before getting back to the Beverly Hills Hotel. Nikita already knew she was in for a hell of a night…success IT was all it was cracked up to be!

***

Michael sat on the far left-hand corner of the limousine, his hand idly playing with his chin. He had been literary shoved into the awaiting vehicle by a security guard who was afraid for his safety. In the melee he had been separated from his wife who was now herself tossed into the car by the cellos guard and quickly landed face down on Michael’s crotch.

Trying to appease the blonde, who breathed heavily from the effort, he stroked her hair and said, “Stay there…grunt…why more exertion…grunt…is that heavy breathing because of me…grunt”. Michael was grunting because the blonde, herself trying to appease him, was arousing him through the expensive cloth of his pants.

She reached up and touched his lips, mumbling between playful bites, still same position “Are the windows tinted?”

Michael let out a laugh and pulled her up into his waiting arms “No I think they fogged up.” He groped expertly and finding the zipper left her mouth and swiftly moved to her exposed shoulders. Slowly by unzipping the gown he exposed the rest of her full breasts.

“You know you are perfect…suck…you didn’t need to get yourself butchered up with implants…suck, stroke…doing this…long suck…after implants would be like sucking on Barbie…suck, stroke, lap…plastic.” The French accent thick with emotion joking.

“Mmm…” all the blonde could manage, that and holding his head to her for dear life.

“Lay down, get comfortable, and let me love you…” He picked up the phone and called the chauffer “How long to our first appointment with NBC?” all the while helping her remove the remaining clothing.

Michael gasped as the blonde exposed lacey black thong underwear and seamed thigh high stockings to his bewildered eyes. Repeating, “…about an hour, I am sorry I am still in another time zone, what time is it here now?”

The man, eyes on the road, dark screened window between him and his passengers (good thing) answered, “It is 4:05 am, you need to be there by 6 am for make-up and then to CBS and lastly ABC. Thank goodness you get to do CNN and The Tonight Show later today after you rest. There is clothing in a bag back there your agent game me. You’re ok time wise.”

“Then we are going to sleep, drive slow.” Michael lied and the chauffeur knew it. His erection and Nikita’s mouth and hands were proving to be too much of a distraction to think about business. He was removing his clothing himself.

“Kita you drive me insane, I want…” Michael said after hanging up the ‘intercom’.

“I want you now Michael, take off your pants…” fumbling with the zipper of his fly.

Chuckling Michael again, “You are anything but patient ma belle.”

“Wasted virtue Michael shut up and love me please.”

“Will do.” He said, Michael when he wanted to be sweet, he could be and somehow he wanted it now.

She was so turned on by her husband’s naked body and remarked, “Those Oscars watching us, it is like we are getting it on in public.”

“Turn on…let’s do it with gold men watching.” He was being a total erotic pig, he knew it, but they were both enjoying it a lot.

Methodically Michael started kissing his wife’s naked body. She was sighing and he was concentrating in the pleasure he received by her mere presence. But most of all, he was intent in giving her all the mind boggling releases her multiple orgasmic being could mustard.

He sucked her toenails, her red painted sinful nails somehow tasting sweet. He paid particular attention to the top of her toes where he concentrated on the space between her toes. The silk skin of the stockings had long been forgotten, the moment of removal being almost religious, he had taken his time and made her shiver with each fraction of an inch the encasement traveled.

He now sucked on her ankles, after traveling up her legs, her knees got his attention. The back of each knee enchanting the man and compelling his undivided commitment. She was not lying on the car seat, she was sure she was hovering over them. How charming a position to be in, she thought, as long as her companion was Michael.

Her skin felt smooth, warm, at the same time cool and perfect. Her convenient position easing Michael access to any place he wanted to explore. Nikita was so relaxed by his ministrations and the champagne that she was gasping and humming.

Michael next attacked her hands. Fingers being sucked, placed where he wanted them, holding his private parts, stroking his nipples, stroking his beautiful curls. He moved her head so she could lick the base of his hair and the shell of his ear - plunging her exquisite tongue and swirling sending sheer ecstasy to the man.

Michael looked at his watch, he realized there was but 20 minutes left and anyway he was more than desperate for his own release by now. “Kita, sweetheart, I have to…”

“So do I Michael, please love me…” she didn’t have to finish. He held her hands; fingers intertwined and entered her slowly while he whispered nonsensical French words to her totally relaxed and wanton body. He was deep within his wife and they were both so aroused their skins tingled with just their breath disturbing it.

They reached orgasm together their breath’s erratic, their hearts pounding and their mouths busy worshiping each other. “Let’s finish the business rapidly, I want to live another NC 17 chapter.”

***

The early hours found the Samuelle’s hitting every early show in every major network from the West Coast. They rested in their beautiful suite overlooking the Pacific Ocean and later that day Michael did the Tonight Show. Nikita was pulled from backstage, joined her husband on camera, and met Jay Leno.

Then they returned to their hotel to sleep; they had to leave early next morning for the East Coast. Michael was to do David Letterman and the other late shows. Montreal was next so Michael could return to his movie and Nikita to the Vogue shoot.

Nikita said, “Michael when can we have a baby?” As they were eating a light meal and wearing matching terry clothe robes. The blonde asked the poignant question while Michael served them both orange juice.

“Right now… want to go try for one?” He joked, kissing her mouth, “You really want to get pregnant?” he sweetly asked.

“Yes Michael, I have been thinking about it.” They were holding hands.

“Well, there is nothing else to discuss, let’s get pregnant.” Michael answered. While taking a shower after a long passion filled couple of hours, the handsome man started thinking about the path that brought him to this moment. The beautiful woman entered the shower and kissed her husband between his shoulder blades. His eyes bright and clear, hers the color of the deepest ocean. “I love you Nikita, if it was not for you none of this would have happened, my life would have no meaning…” he was talking while the water poured over their bodies, she was concentrating solely on his erection, which was growing with her ministrations.

She interrupted while getting on her knees in front of her hard husband, “Michael…suck…can we talk about this…rub up and down…after we try for the baby again…suck-suck-bite.”

“Get up here Kita.” He pulled her up, her hungry mouth suckling his nipple as she traveled against his body. His desperation manifested in his devotion to her mouth, neck and finally breasts. His long strong tongue swirling around her breasts first the left, then the right. He was biting softly and touching, tickling the rosé tips.

They pulled each other out of the shower and Michael wrapped them in exquisitely thick towels. Their hair dripping wet, Michael lapping the water that sloshed off her body, sojourning her progress towards the bed. “Right here” he growled, “I can’t move any further.”

He laid her carefully on the lush carpet and turned her dissolved body so she would rest on her knees. Himself on his knees he entered her swiftly and started with one hand rubbing her magnificent soft and wet back. His other hand busy looking for her female sex and expertly rubbing her creamy center forcing the blonde to support her body with extreme effort.

He was calling her name in a mantra that was deep, husky and oh so sensual. She was attaining orgasm with commitment and nonsensical sounds. He behind her proudly displaying his need pushing into her backside; his entire being concentrating on bringing her even more ecstasy than he was already receiving. He was straining with his unbinding need.

“Kita” he started but was quickly interrupted by the blonde who picked up her head and growled “Damn Michael, please baby come, I can’t take it anymore, please come…” and she let out a shriek. He followed just as potently.

After their bodies cooled off, their shuddering subsided, Michael moved them to the king size linen clad bed. The feather pillows, covers and mattress enveloping their bodies with posh comfort - so quickly wrapped around each other they slept. Michael’s mind traveling down the road of remembrance.

***

Michael Samuelle was a 15-year-old green-eyed hottie. All the girls in the school would cozy up to his 8-year-old twin brothers Seymour and Jason in order to get Michael’s attention. Usually to no avail. The handsome teenager was focused in his science, writing and of course his sport - ice hockey. Girls apparently didn’t worry him none.

His mother, Madelyn taught music off-season at the local YMCA and her three boys and one girl all played an instrument. Michael had chosen the cello for his sister Josephine had suggested the talented boy would not be able to master the difficult instrument like she had mastered the violin. And a challenge was a challenge.

Because Madelyn was Canadian they had returned to her country and settled in Mont Trenblanc, north of Montreal. A quiet winter tourist area were Paul, Michael’s American father, had bought a hotel. He had been released from a Vietnamese camp after being held a prisoner of war for 7 years and joined his wife to run the hotel and raise a family.

Michael’s household and family included all sorts of strays. There was Cat, the tabby aptly named for the feline in Breakfast at Tiffany. The pure bread German Shepard dogs which Michael had saved from the Pound. Flopsy and Mopsy rabbits that had to be kept apart; the fish, white mice, and assorted other animals. And of course the otters in the lake they had named, but were not sure of the quantity.

The horses the children and the adults rode dutifully every day were a mixture of Pintos, Thoroughbred and Paso Finos. Paul and Michael kept motorcycles behind the main house the father and son enjoyed riding together. The pair was also restoring a 1959 ruby red Thunderbird, kept in a carpeted garage.

But the most compelling ‘strays’ who had wandered into the Samuelle’s life were the children. Three Jones children, Mick 15, Carla 10 and Nikita 12 and the beautiful Simone 15, who Paul had brought from Vietnam. These 4 foster kids had been accepted into the family without hesitation.

The Jones’ children were Australian imports. Mick’s hockey team had played an exhibition match against Michael’s and the boy had stayed in the Samuelle’s house while the tour spent time in Canada. The families had become fast friends and the Jones took a little trip to Canada to retrieve their son. While there, Mick’s parents had gotten killed in a car accident and left the three children orphaned.

Paul and Madelyn had been determined and succeeded in not allowing these three children to be separated. They had traveled to Australia immediately to rescue the little girls. And through incredible red tape were given temporary custody until other family members could be found.

Simone had been the daughter of one of Colonel Samuelle’s underlings who had returned to Vietnam after the war. The American father had died, the Vietnamese mother had abandoned her and Paul gained custody of the little girl within weeks of the father’s death. Paul’s sense of honor like always prevailed.

Now at 16 Michael and Simone were experimenting with sex and getting quite close. The young couple would sneak around and all the children knew they were sleeping together. Risking nothing, for Simone was barren due to a deficiency created by mal nutrition and low birth weight, the teen-agers cognizant of this enjoyed their explorations. With abandon and wanton disregard to the set norms the young woman was luring Michael into dangerous territory.

When Paul and Madelyn walked into their son’s room one night, they received the lesson of their lives - always knock before you enter and found the kids in the throngs of passion. Paul, a bit hysterical and Madelyn calm as ever decided to study the problem and enlisted Aunt Adrian and Uncle George to help solve the problem.

Simone that same night ran away, something she had been trying desperately to convince the young man to do with her. She didn’t leave a forwarding address and took the money her father had left her out of the bank the next morning. When Paul and Madelyn called the institution they advised the girl had been there, cleaned out her account and confessed she was going to California to her aunts.

Michael was sent to Marseilles and before he left he gave Nikita his Moliere novel and asked her to read it for him. The novel was Michael’s obsession; he worked on it day and night and showed it no one, that is, except for the exquisite blonde beauty. She sat in the corner of her horse’s stall, cried and read until she was finished.

Nikita was Michael’s confidant, for some reason the two children had clicked and trusted each other with secrets, dreams and aspirations. Simone always told Michael that Nikita was more of a girlfriend to him than she was. The little girl was truly in awe of the handsome young man.

Nikita adored reading Michael’s work and critiquing it. The striking boy loved to discuss Nikita’s findings with her. Michael’s parents always enjoyed the children’s franc debate and how the stoic Michael’s acquiesced to the very young blonde.

Simone seethed; he would tell the Vietnamese beauty the green-eyed monster did not suit her well. Michael felt Nikita was a little girl who he loved like a sister. The beautiful Simone didn’t buy this and pointed to the way Michael looked at the blonde, always intensely without even knowing he was doing it. Perhaps Simone was not so off the track, her relationship with Michael was purely physical, sex being the thing they shared. When the Vietnamese beauty would ask Michael about this, he would point out that Simone was just not interested in any of the same things Michael loved.

But it was Nikita though that Michael took to his hockey practices and cello lessons and huddled with laughing, swimming, skiing and riding the horses to exhaustion. It was Nikita he wanted next to him when his hand had to be stitched after an ice skating accident and Nikita who he wanted next to him after the family incident and his expulsion to Marseilles.

***

The same year of the Incident, as the family referred to the Michael and Simone debacle, the Samuelle gang dispersed. The Jones’ paternal grandfather Walter had finally tracked down his grandchildren and had taken custody back. The kids promising to keep in touch with the Samuelle’s moved back to Australia with their Grandpa who they loved so much.

The man had been a former intelligence agent, and had been undercover and now retired, thus his mysterious re appearance. Simone was still missing and Michael still in France. The other children remained with Paul and Madelyn in Canada, but all their lives had been changed forever.

The Moliere novel had gone back and forth between Quebec and France. The final draft had been copied and returned to Michael just before Nikita went back with Walter. She had written a poignant declaration of her little girl feelings for the young man and had told him she would treasure her copy of ET TU MONSIEUR. The blonde wrote she was sure someday this book would be published and would be grand.

But like it is with long distances and friendships, the letters and calls between Canada and Australia as time passed became the Christmas and birthday cards exchanged eagerly between all. And then in later years messages exchanged only between Josephine and Nikita, and finally snail mail and phone calls disappeared to be replaced by electronic mail. Thus is the price of modern life.

*****

Nikita, Mick and Carla got down to the business of adjusting all over again when Walter moved them to the Washington DC area a year after their return to Australia. The United States Capital City exuded Power and Leadership. Wherever you turned in the beautiful town you were exposed to culture through the wonderful museums the District offered.

The Jones children and Grandpa Walter moved into the suburb of Georgetown. Walter was working in Pentagon City as a consultant. The children’s parents had left the kids very well off so it had been the children’s choice to move to the beautiful historical house overlooking the University grounds. Mick already 19 was on his second year of studying pre-law at the prestigious university.

Walter commuted the 10 minutes late everyday to avoid the traffic, his office in a building right across from the Pentagon City Shopping Center. He made sure he was at home everyday when the children got home from school. Catholic education in private school as willed by the children’s parents, lots of extra curricular activities for all.

Carla had been born with the gift of ‘construction.’ The 14-year-old girl could use a router, strip wood flooring, build wainscoting and lay tile. Her favorite pastime, rewiring the house and changing the old plumbing fixtures. Her ability to draw plans amazed all, but Walter would yell “School work first missy.”

The beautiful Nikita was volunteering in the Museum of Natural History and her tour always included loads of repeat customers, mostly teen-age boys. The blonde girl never missed work and always kept herself in the honor roll so her Grandpa would not make her quit. He had done just that with Mick and his trip to Cancun over Spring Break - one “C” and you are out - Walter’s rules.

The children were happy; school, volunteer work and social engagements filled their lives. The house remodeling, with Carla as its construction foreman was progressing tremendously. The children had just added a porch with panoramic windows surrounding the room. Because of Nikita, Mick’s friends seem to volunteer enthusiastically.

Walter was content and his love life had improved when he met and started dating the beautiful ambassador from England to the United States. The Embassy one block away from their home on embassy row visited daily by the ‘throw back to the sixties’ as Adrian Wolfe would call Walter when they navigated through the Potomac in his schooner.

The woman had accepted the ambassadorship to the United States after her husband died during their stint in France. The Wolfe’s never had children and their life was quite exiting and sophisticated. Walter had never married due to his ‘business’ and had adopted the children’s mother while on assignment in Germany at the end of World War II.

Adrian and Walter had met during a flight back from England. Walter over there for business, Adrian visiting family and friends, the transatlantic flight had been a new beginning for both. The couple had immediately formed a friendship and soon it blossomed into love…eight months had passed and Christmas was quickly arriving.

The Jones had now been living in DC for 10 years; after graduating college Mick had started a computer company, which was making money hand over fist. Carla had graduated college in the fall; she was going to finally put her God given gift to work after receiving a degree in Architecture.

As a 24-year-old woman Nikita knew she had the world at her feet. A well-known model in her own right, she was in the mist of the Haute Couture Fashion Week in New York City, her first major tour and she was thrilled. She had reservations to go to DC for Christmas.

Her grandfather Walter had said, “Sugar, you want to model, get a degree or no modeling until you are of age.” So Nikita was the proud owner of a BA from Harvard were she had enjoyed the college experience to the hilt. At present she was seriously thinking of moving to Europe.

Her amazing good looks where a lethal combination with her brilliant mind. Her brother Mick would still call her for her input and would laugh at how easy Nikita made her effort sound. The last 5 years had been quite a ride for the blonde. She had dated Jurgen Smore, Mick’s partner, much older than her, but totally devoted to the blonde.

The Nikita - Jurgen relationship had come to blows when the blonde finished college. She had told him she needed to concentrate on her career. Jurgen had patiently waited for the blonde, going to Harvard every weekend to see his girl. The couple had only been intimate once during the four years and the older man was quite frustrated.

He had cornered the blonde on the phone one evening, as she busily unpacked. She had just moved to New York and he had wanted her to move in with him instead. California, he reminded her had plenty of modeling agencies. They had fought, she had hung up and he had showed up the next morning.

Nikita was furious, how dared him railroad her into a commitment she was not ready for. Jurgen confessed “Nikita I love you but that is not the only reason I want to marry you, I am dying, Bone Cancer, I …” The man had not finished, she had acquiesced instantly and a wedding was planned and executed with the precision of a military tribunal.

Nikita had lived for 5 months with Jurgen, his deterioration evident. They had traveled, enjoyed their kinship and the end had sadly come as Nikita was bathing her husband…his last words…Thank You Nikita. Almost a year had passed since Jurgen’s demise and Nikita was now ready to get back among the living. She had signed up with an agency and thus the preparation for the Haute Couture extravaganza.

Her family not able to join her for her first show because it was strictly for the trade. But as Walter had told a teary Nikita on the phone, “Sugar, this is your first, not your last, we’ll be seeing you in a week, break a leg.”

The blonde beauty had done just that, broken a leg. At the end of the show, when all the models walked the pazarela for the last time Nikita had arrived behind the curtain almost skipping with joy. The designer, who shall remain nameless, tripped bringing the blonde down when his entire rotund body landed on the model’s femur, thus the clean break.

The beautiful blonde had been a perfect example of decorum…she had wanted, but refused to sock the designer who had been warned against snorting coke before the show. Nikita was taken to the nearest Fifth Avenue emergency clinic, which surprisingly enough was full.

One of the patients waiting with a broken hand for the Orthopedist was the Editor in Chief of a major publishing house, Terri O’Brien. The women became fast friends and Terri decided to spend Christmas with the Jones family in DC. Mick had been quite taken with the beautiful “bird” but Terri proved to be a handful…Mick was bewitched.

The new friends had shopped for Christmas presents, visited museums and gone to the Kennedy Center for a special concert by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. After Terri had returned from dinner at The Capitol Grill with a smitten Mick the girls, including Carla had spoken until all hours of the night.

While in Nikita’s bedroom, the blonde had given Terri Michael Samuelle’s novel after finding it in her closet. She had not thought of it in years, but Josephine’s annual email had brought it all back. The editor promised to read it when she returned to New York. Nikita told her how good she thought the story really was.

Terry and Mick had gone back together, their blossoming affair growing determinedly. Walter decided to accompany Adrian to England to see her family. Carla had joined a prestigious Architectural firm and had been assigned the restoration of a public building.

Nikita went home to New York to find a certified letter from the attorney’s handling Jurgen’s affairs. She needed to set up a meeting as soon as possible to discuss his last will and testament. Nikita wondered what this was about, since she thought all of this had been taken care of upon his death.

***

Michael stood by his Uncle George’s gravesite. The six months after the Incident he’d spent in Marseilles had created a bond between young man and old man carrying George through the rest of his life. George’s widow Adrian held on to Michael for dear life - the young man would always be like the child the Wolfe couple never had and Michael had gone back to the beautiful French city after graduating college.

Michael was now a college professor teaching Drama. He had just accepted a visiting fellowship in a University in the States. With Aunt Adrian going to Washington Michael felt he needed to return to America and be closer to home. So after seeing Adrian off, he took a one way cruise back home…he needed to relax and plan his life.

The now tanned young man arrived in the City that never sleeps, New York, rested and ready to tackle real life. He was to report to NYU at the end of the week. Michael grabbed a cab and started off for the apartment his Uncle George had left on Central Park West and 54th.

The Concierge and Doorman who were tackling the dismantling of a Christmas tree when he arrived greeted Michael. “Professor Samuelle” the Concierge said “Welcome to New York, your Aunt left this letter and the keys to the automobile in your parking spot. Please call me in the house phone when you are ready to see the car.”

“Thank You, I assume it is not a good idea to do much driving in this City.” Michael responded.

“Yes Sir, but Mrs. Wolfe insisted in leaving you this car. She took the Rolls with her to DC.” The Doorman added.

“Very well, could you please point me to the apartment.” Michael added.

“Yes of course - 7C” the Elevator Operator added when Michael reached the ornate wood and brass antique.

Michael walked into 7C a beautiful 5-room apartment with floor to ceiling bookshelves; deep jeweled toned carpets and creamed color upholstered walls. Very masculine and new, for Adrian had re decorated as a ‘thank you’ to her nephew, all the way down to the food in the refrigerator. The note brief, but full of English gentility, welcomed Michael to his new home and listed every phone number the newbie New Yorker would need.

Michael stood by the full-length window, sipping a Coca Cola and listening to a Cello Concerto on the CD. There was a nock on the door and he opened to find the building staff bringing his suitcases the cruise ship company had just delivered. Now Michael had something to busy himself with, so he unpacked his winter clothing.

At 6:00 Michael turned on the nightly news, started dinner for himself and went back to looking out the window to the famous park across the way. People coming and going, traffic heavy, snow lightly falling and blanketing the scenery. Michael felt…empty. Here he was in a profession he didn’t like, in a City he didn’t know, in a life he didn’t plan.

Money was not a problem, Uncle George had left enough money for everyone of Michael siblings equally and not one of them needed to work for the rest of their lives. Of course everyone of the Samuelle’s were doing well due to the chain of hotels Paul now owned. The twins were married to twin sisters, had no children yet, Josephine was married with two boys Michael adored and Paul and Madelyn were busy running their empire the way they did everything, with gusto. Aunt Adrian had take the Ambassadorship in the United States because she wanted to continue Uncle George’s work. She had met, and was quite taken, with an American man she’d encountered on her flight over from England. Michael had laughed at Adrian’s description of Walter, what a contrast and proof positive that opposites did attract. The young man was happy his Aunt had found laughter and love again after loosing her beloved George.

***

Michael couldn’t believe how easily he had gotten into the rhythm of the job, the City and his new life. The University was close enough that it made more sense to take a cab than to drive, so Michael had arranged for a driver to pick him up every day he had to teach. The nightlife in New York was amazing, Michael would eat out at least twice a week and catch a theatrical performance every couple of weeks.

There was Broadway and off Broadway and school productions and on and on. Dating was a full time job for the handsome but hard to reach individual. He didn’t want commitments and thus he ‘played.’ He still was not happy with the life he had but as he always said ‘you have to just do the job’.

Wednesdays were always mind boggling to Michael. The reserved, quiet, man didn’t work on Wednesday and he would spend the entire day writing. Like every day, he would wake up at 6:00 am run in the Central Park course closest to his home, work out at the building’s gym, shower, breakfast and write.

Wednesday was Michael’s day - he wore silk pajama bottoms (he liked the feel), no shirt and didn’t shave. He ate junk food to his family’s amazement, drank too much coffee, smoked too much and vegged out but for his writing. He answered the phone only because both Madelyn and Adrian had yelled at him “What if something should happen” so he started using his caller ID.

“The Americanization of Michael” Josephine was saying this Wednesday morning as she spoke with her brother. “You work 4 days a week, spend Wednesdays writing, go out on the week-ends. You say you are in a rut, but don’t want to deviate from your routine.” His sister was scolding in a loud French soliloquy.

“What do you want from me Jozzepheene - he was talking in English now - “I don’t want to call Nikita. We haven’t spoken in what… 10 years…what do I have in common with her. I don’t want to take care of anyone; I don’t want to have family here. I have plenty of family who manages my life already. La response est NON.”

She was just as furious as he was. Her stubborn brother wouldn’t do her the favor of calling her dear childhood friend, HIS dear childhood friend. “Michael you are so G** Da** stubborn. I swear if you don’t do me this favor…I’ll…”

Michael interrupted, “You’ll what…tell mamman.”

“No, I’ll give her your number have her call you.” She triumphantly stated.

“I won’t answer the f***ing phone. Enough Josephine, leave me alone. Tell me how is Jacques, is he home, or are you bored and that is why you are picking on me.” Michael calmed down.

“My husband Jacques is in the park with the children…I worry about you Michael and Nikita she needs a favor, pleasseee.” She continued.

“OK, I give up, give her my number…I’ll see what I can do for her.” He sigh “Women.”

“Yeah and your life would be complete if you didn’t play so much and became serious…” she went on.

Michael interrupting, “Like always Josie, you don’t know when to quit do you, we’ll talk later this week. A kiss to all, I love ‘ya. Oh and you are welcome.”

“I love you too Michel. Thank You.” His sister laughed and hung up.

***

Michael got to his office first thing Thursday morning before he had to start his lecture. He found a note from the Dean to meet him after his first class, which let out at 10:50 am. Michael busied himself in his work and gave a thrilling lecture to a full auditorium class. Michael was a very popular professor, especially with the women students - and he wondered why. The Dean asked Michael point blank, “Michael my wife is the Chair for a fund raising Bachelor Auction for MIRA, and she has asked me to ask you, one of our most popular professors, to help out, would you do it?”

Of course Michael was not about to shoot himself in the foot and gladly acquiesced. He did make some comment about feeling like a Valentine Operative of sorts. The men laughed and the Dean gave Michael the particulars. Two week from this Friday at Windows in the Park, he was to wear a tux; Michael assured the Dean he owned a couple.

Nikita and Michael kept missing each other, messages in message machines to no result; a perfect game of telephone tag. Friday of the party arrived in earnest, Michael only had 1 mid morning class on Fridays and he smoothed through it. He needed to rest for what he was to endure this night.

A good cause though, he had been put through an obstacle course by MIRA and found the whole thing extremely worthwhile. Michael dressed in his Tux and laughed when he took off his pants to resolve the commando fashion statement he liked to sport.

Re-trousering himself Michael went to the garage and took out his black Mercedes sedan and proceeded to the Restaurant and the party. He looked divine and drew quite a lot of looks from the women at a quiosk he stopped at to purchase cigarettes. Quips from the Hispanic owner at the cash register, sending fear through Michael who thought ‘What is this evening going to be like.”

He was surprised to see all the glitz, glamour and cameras when he arrived. The media there just to cover the entrance. The Dean and his wife served as hosts and quickly took Michael ‘backstage’ to prepare with the other poor souls, mostly celebrities, who had gathered there.

And then the moment of his entrance came, Celine Dion who was serving as MC, while 8 months pregnant said. “OK ladies we have raised a lot of money so far, but this specimen” laughter from the audience “is really, really worth the big bucks.”

Before Michael came out she said, “He is a Professor of Drama at NYU, handsome, young, tall, handsome, dark, did I say handsome” audience laughing, jeering, “French lilting accent” exaggerated accent even for her “and he works out…. MERCY - I give you one of my compatriots Monsieur Michel Samuelle.”

Michael stood at the back of the stage like a deer caught in the headlights. His rugged good looks receiving a gasp from the audience and then the wild women of this night burst out into applause, cheers, yells, catcalls, whistles, and the likes. He relaxed and strutted his stuff.

At the same time, Nikita Jones was returning from a visit to the little girls room. She was wearing a red knee high sheath made of light wool for it was early March and a simple 9” pearl necklace and earrings; her jaw dropped when she caught the very end of Ms. Dion’s introduction and heard his name. The incredible looking man on the stage was Michael.

“OK ladies I start the bidding at $1,000, and yes you heard it right…I start the bidding, I don’t think my husband would deny me.” Celine said this holding her protruding stomach with one hand and Michael’s hand with the other. The gorgeous man kissed her on the cheek and raised his eyebrows for the audience, who cheered.

“$20,000.00” a voice came from the back of the room, the figure could not be identified because of the lights.

A hushed came over the audience. All of Michael’s fears against not getting bids [as if] dissipated. No one else tonight, including Tom Cruise - $5,000, had bought more money.

Celine was whopping like if she was in Arsenio’s show. Do I hear $20,500? Silence, “Non… $20,000 to the lady in back”. The room turned to look at Nikita stride to the front looking like an angel. Michael recognized the face; it was her…his little Nikita.

***

Nikita walked the red carpet towards the stage; she concentrated in walking her model walk. It was difficult since all she could see was Michael’s green hot gaze and she was transported momentarily to the little 12 year old girl she had been. It took a mammoth effort not to break down into a mad dash and rush the stage.

His lips broke into a devastatingly spectacular smile that filled his eyes with a mischievous sprite. He mouthed ‘Ni-ki-ta’, like he used to call her when she shadowed his 15-year-old actions. His inferno filled gaze nailed to her soft firmament blue orbs.

She started to walk towards the step-case and he pulled her up unto the stage with one graceful sweeping move. She let out a loud sigh, the audience mimicked her and he kissed her hand, taking a bow. “Mademoiselle Jones, I am under orders to please you.” The audience broke out in a loud applause.

Celine Dion broke into a little song and said “Lucky, lucky girl. She is Nikita Jones the model. Cher have a great time;”

The couple moved towards the table were Nikita had to arrange for payment. While waiting for the Dean who had signaled Michael across the room Nikita quietly and looking flirtingly impishly at him whispered. “If I had known that $20,000 was all it took to talk to you, I would have written the check quicker.”

He smiled pulled her close to him by a an arm he wrapped around her waist and awfully close to her ear answered “If I had know you filled out so well, I would have called you back sooner.” He finished kissing her ear gently.

Cough, “Michael, I am sorry to interrupt. I wanted to thank you for your contribution, of course Ms. Jones, you as well.” The Dean continued “I wanted to ask you this morning, and I am sorry to bring this up at this point, if you would take over Monsieur Christian’s French Literature classes next week. He called me tonight to advise me he is not coming back, so I am stuck without someone covering his classes as soon as Monday.”

Michael was a little put out, this was not the place or the time, but the man was obviously a senseless fool. As always the ends justified the means…and Michael wanted the position desperately. So he cleared his throat, let go of Nikita and answered.

“Is this a temporary position, or…” The evidently jammed Dean interrupted Michael.

“Of course it is a permanent position Michael. We would have to talk about the other less sensitive issues, like pay. But as of now, if you accept, you will be a full Professor of French Literature and Drama.”

“Michael, patented straight face, lacking humor dead panned. “Just call me Professor Samuelle.” And shook the Dean’s hand.

Nikita had been busy writing the check, making a statement about the contribution, and about her incredibly broad knowledge of MIRA. She had been a supporter of the worthwhile cause for quite some time. Her attention had been elsewhere and had not heard the discussion between the two men.

She had however sensed the change in Michael. All of a sudden he pinched the base of his magnificent nose. She smiled moving next to him again. “I remember when you broke your nose right there” touching his nose softly “French Canadian hockey, always a challenge your mom always said.” They both laughed.

“Let’s get out of here.” He said and she nodded in agreement. Definitely the blonde had a secret desire to get him alone to find out what he had been doing for all these years. Michael felt he had just taken yet another step into franchising himself into this life.

They stood by the front door awaiting the Mercedes, he wasn’t talking, he was holding her hand, playing distractedly with her palm, smoothly circling her skin with his nails. He let out a sigh when the car appeared, the doorman opened the door and helped Nikita enter, he came into the car and without hesitation proceeded to help her with the seat belt.

“Michael, are you alright?” she asked.

“Sorry” coming back to reality “I just got what should be good news, but yet…never mind. How have you been? Josephine has kept us abreast of your family’s comings and goings. She told us about your loss, I am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, “Jurgen was a wonderful man who lived his short life to the fullest. He accepted his death with grace and taught me so much about acceptance for ones existence.”

“So, do you want to go eat something…what do you have planned for this $20,000 date?” He asked, back to his charming self.

“Oh…” she reddened, “It doesn’t start tonight.”

“When then?”

“Tomorrow, this week-end we are going to meet up with my brother Mick and his fiancé Terri.” She answered.

“A two day one night date. Long, comprehensive…I like it. How is old Mick?” Nikita was recounting her family’s history. How they had moved to DC to go to school. How everyone had his or her careers. How little Carla was a famous architect. Michael knew this for he had read about her in a magazine.

Michael then told Nikita about his family, how the twins had married twins. How precious Josephine’s children were to him. And then Michael started talking about his life in New York. She was mesmerized by his deep voice, how he made her feel as though she was the only woman on earth…and she was thrilled to hear him say his sister’s name.

Michael was not feeling anything but an incredible amount of lust right now. The beautiful blonde crossed and uncrossed her long legs giving him a glance of her lace-topped stockings. He kept on sneaking a peek unto her beautiful pert breasts that raised and fell with her deep breathing.

He was casually stroking her body with his eyes. She felt the infectious heat of his gaze and could see he was becoming more and more aroused. He was again playing his devastating game with his hand, entwining his fingers with hers and holding the left one with uncharacteristically emotion.

“Let’s go to my apartment, it is kind of late to go to a restaurant and …” she was stuttering with nervous laughter.

“Alright, where do you live?” he asked.

“Central Park West and 58th” she answered.

“You are kidding…I am four blocks from there.” He answered.

The car was turning unto Central Park West and Nikita pointed to her building. Smaller than Michael’s it was still impressive even by New York standards. She glanced at him when she felt his heated gaze on her again; he smiled and squeezed her hand. Michael brought the car to a stop and the doorman opened the door, a young man took the car after bowing to Nikita in recognition.

***

“Cat” Nikita called and a tabby came slinking gracefully across the foyer floor. Michael lips quirked and he let go of the blonde’s hand. She picked the cat up as Michael took off his coat and jacket and helped her off with her own. His grin broadened as he saw the enthralling sight of the blonde beauty going about mundane tasks. His smile was in itself intoxicating.

Remaining close to the blonde by petting the cat, Michael was breathing her enigmatic perfume and aura, “I see you have overcome your aversion to kitties.” He whispered standing behind her, reaching over her shoulder to continue petting the cat.

“This one doesn’t bite me like your cat did.” She saucily answered.

Her eyes shuttered and when they opened again she saw their reflection on the hall tree by the door. He was a mere inch taller than she in those CFM heels that had enthralled him during the car ride. His nose was nestled in her hair, his eyes themselves closed. She was afraid of breathing as not to loose his feel.

The house phone announcing a visitor interrupted the sexually charged moment. The Chinese food deliveryman had arrived with the food they’d ordered from the car. He grinned for the whole conversation with the Concierge was had with her arm stretched depressing the intercom button, her body had not moved a fraction of an inch away from his.

Nikita cleared her throat for he had not released his nearness to her either. “Will you… do me a favor” she stuttered not really waiting for a reply, “would you get the door…I want to go get…the table ready.” She had released the cat, which ran off to some corner.

Michael had kept his hand on her shoulder and now kissed the top of her head, stroked her arm and let out an audible sigh. She, reluctantly, moved into the apartment and towards the kitchen saying over her shoulder “The check has been taken care of.”

He smiled and thought ‘She wants control.’

Michael tipped the deliveryman and turned to enter the living/dining room, where he encountered another heart tugging incredibly arousing scene. The blonde was bending over the small round table lighting candles, her stockings lacy tops again making an appearance and she was wearing a white French-Upstairs-Maid apron over her skirt.

He called on his control to squelch his overwhelming need. Approaching the kitchen, purposely allowing her the dining room as her stage, he now called over his shoulder “Mind if I make myself at home?”

She turned to see he was not waiting for her answer, closed her eyes, looked up to the ceiling and felt her moistness increase. The man, even at a distance, was creating havoc with her senses, they seemed to be all connected. Her usually clear blue eyes were cloudy with want…big time. She entered the kitchen, he ignored her purposely, he was rifling through cabinets and drawers looking for serving utensils and such.

“Do you have any pets”? She asked.

“No.” Approaching her, grabbing her by the waist, pulling her into his very aroused member, as if saying ‘here, see - I don’t want chitchat.’

“Mmm,” she stumbled when trying to move back, he tightened his grip to prevent a fall.

“M-m-Mykewl” she stuttered some more and moved back again, being stopped by the refrigerator this time.

She now was wedged between the major appliance and the major bod-gawd. “Yes.” Monosyllabic, but incredibly lilting and full of meaning; slowly taking back control.

“Are…Mmm…we…Mmm…m…oving too f…ast?” She somehow managed to utter as his nearness, just that, was rendering her wordless.

“No…” he whispered, now kissing her mouth ever so gently, “do you want me to stop?”

“No.” She uttered, loud, proud, and needy. She opened her mouth and gently allowed his tongue to join hers. A subtle dance matched stroke for stoke; their juices were flowing, both his and hers, and they were so very close they melded into one.

“Well…”he mumbled between kisses, his hands guiding her waist to invite her hips to dance with his “we could”…grind, continue kiss, grind, “eat…now.” He ended the kiss with a lick and a bite.

She actually was not sure whether she was breathing or not, a bit discomfited she shyly smiled “Perhaps we should” she reposted. He thought she had taken control again; she didn’t even know her name right now.

He kissed her again, took her face in his hands (the hips were still dancing) and kissed the tip of her nose. “Were the Golden Threads and Silver Noodles yours or mine?”

She moved now to get a bottle of Sake, then turned to show him the bottle, he took it from her hand kissing it and proceeded opening the wine. “Have you ever heard from Simone again”? She asked, she didn’t know what made her think of her, she had not thought of Simone in eons, immediately she was sorry she had asked.

His demeanor changed, it was a subtle change, but it was definitely there, in his stance. “We heard from her aunt in California a couple of years ago. Simone had become an FBI agent and was killed in the line of duty. My father and I attended the funeral, we were surprised none of you were there.” He answered.

“We had not heard, I am sorry, I know what she had meant to you.” She added.

“Like with your Jurgen, Simone was an extraordinary child and became a remarkable woman. I kept in touch with her during the years and realized she was blossoming into a noteworthy individual. She never married, never had children, just her indescribable quest.” Michael was now a bit more animated, they were in unison serving the food, serving the Sake and taking their place on the table.

***

The conversation over dinner was very interesting; they spoke of course of their lives, their education, their loves and their families. They discussed New York, Marseilles, DC and Montreal. They laughed, they teared up, they joked and even sang…’Here’s a little…two American kids growing up…’ laughing again some more. They sat, side by side, holding hands, stroking fingers, kissing lightly like two very old friends. The couple of hours that passed were relaxed and haunting. They lingered as much they could and she decided it was time for the next move. He had obviously left it up to her comfort.

“Want to dance? You still do dance? Remember when you thought you were John Travolta?” She smiled walking towards the stereo.

He quickly joined her, looking through her cd collection. He had to move his cummerbund and tie, which he had discarded over the cds. “Let’s find a slow one…and I wanted to be Patrick Swayzee”. So he chose the sound track to ‘Dirty Dancing.’

She shook her head in the negative and put on ‘Crazy’ saying, “This is slower.”

Michael smiled “Slower it is.” And took her by her waist, repeating the position from before. Hip to hip. Chest to chest. Cheek to cheek. Eyes closed. Mouths sporting beaming smiles. Timber to velvet nest.

They were both dissolving in a myriad of sensations. He wanted it like this slow, earth shattering, mind-boggling, unlike anything he had felt. She was sauce, a compilation of liquid ingredients that had rendered her sappy. The control they had been crusading for forgotten. Right now, at this point they were in agreement, they were of one thought - pleasure.

He started a hand dance that was so powerful he needed his other hand to keep her from collapsing. His fingers mapping each of her fingers and her palms. His mouth a whisper away from hers until her pink tongue darted out and captured his. Their mouth sensually devastating each other, sweetly, softly, like a religious experience. Their hands still dancing, their feet hardly moving, and just keeping a beat to the subtle wails of Patsy Cline.

And then he started raking his nails against her legs, first the front, then the back. Gently lifting her skirt with the caress, then letting it down with such devotion and diligence you’d think he was creating a masterpiece. Like if she was a fine porcelain piece that would break if manhandled he was assiduously cuddling her. She was about to ask him for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation for she was sure she was having an apoplectic attack.

He had command and she was aware he had taken control; for a second she cared, but then submitted, who gave a damn. This was shear liquid ecstasy; she was a puddle of sexual hormones, a virtual virulence stricken sack of sensations. And he was loving every nano second of torturous bequest; he was relishing endowing her with this archetypal seduction. He had never tried this process before; this woman was defining this technique, a muse to his new developing methodology. Seduction 101 was emerging before their eyes into an advance degree course in rapture and gratification.

She was rewarded for her cooperation with his gifted tongue flitting in and out of her demure mouth. He was indulging his imagination with tactual fascinating reflection in the mirrored wall. The ends of her enthralling garter belt, now making an appearance next to her lacey stocking tops. If his manhood got any bigger, any harder, he would have ripped the crotch of his tuxedo pants. She could feel all of him and worried if he could stand so much pain.

Pushing her nest ever so close to his precious jewels, she separated their chest to look intently unto her lover. The music, playing on loop mode, repeated its alluring melody ‘Crazy…crazy for being so lonely…I’m crazy…crazy for being so blue…’ He looked perturbed that she had abandoned his mouth, his chest and started to pull her back to him, intense green eyes, now a dark hazel looking back, inquisitively, annoyed.

“Michael…” and she started methodically herself, removing the silver and onyx buttons from his shirt, at an agonizing one at a time rhythm that made her smile and him shutter his eyes.

“Kita” he called her what he would call her when she particularly understood him as a girl. When she would listen to his problems, sooth his wounds, dry his tears and be his never-ending source of comfort. “When I left for Marseilles, I didn’t want anything else with me but you. I thought of taking you in my trunk, you always placated my worries, assuaged my pain, you were always part of my soul. I wondered how I would survive the turmoil without you to bring me back to the realities of life.”

She had stopped for a second undressing the man, but continued her task while listening to the little boy. “It was never in a sexual way. I always though of you as an imp to my inspiration…never sexually, always fondly and with love.”

She was now walking around him, taking off his shirt…stroking his taught, hard and perfect back and torso. When she circled him and ended up before him, she looked into his eyes, hers no longer clouded and now full of want. She bent slightly to kiss his male nipples, which hardened the moment her warm breath, her artistic tongue and her indiscernible lips encircled first one, then the other, with equal quality of care.

***

Nikita was full of a passion she wanted to share with Michael. It was not a matter of love or relationship, or commitment. It was a matter of pure hunger, pure need, and pure desire. There was no predicament here, no impossible quandary - there was lust to be fulfilled and shared by two gorgeous young people.

His turn now, proceeding to divest her of her sexy apron, which Michael filed its image for further use in his fantasy life. The dress was next, the long zipper lowered inch by inch by Michael’s deft fingers. His tongue slowly lapping at her entire hairline. She was rolling her head, her magnificent hair curtaining her erotic looking face. Her nether regions were soaping wet with the result of Michael’s handiwork.

While Michael worked his magic on Nikita’s head region his Colombian emerald green eyes shined with unbridled ardor. She was letting out tiny little whimpering sounds that sounded a lot like ‘Oh God’. He would push his gifted tongue into her dainty ears, first one then the other. His fingers pinching her hardened nipples while she grabbed handfuls of his impressive butt.

Michael was also receiving loads of licentious attention. Her hands were rubbing his hard member through his tuxedo pants, he was breathing hard like a scuba diver with a bad regulator. Her dress finally unzipped, falling to the floor to Michael’s illuminated glare. His manhood so very noticeable Nikita was exhilarated just by the knowledge of it.

“Jesu Ni-ki-ta” She was standing before him wearing the most barely credible black thong panties, bra and thigh high stockings he had ever seen. The silk red rose bud, which decorated the lacey center of each piece, had a tiny little rhinestone that twinkled at Michael with naughty politesse. The mesh fabric shadowed her hardened nipples and he moved his talented tongue to eagerly lick the buds that tempted him so.

With attention to detail she started the torture by unbuttoning his trousers, lowering the zipper agonizingly slow and releasing his manhood, which sprang to life instantly. He was making a Herculean effort not to stop the seduction and cut to the chase. She was standing up due to Michael’s incredible strength. He was devouring her with his eyes, dividing his attention between watching her before him and reflected in the mirror.

A feral animal with an amazing presence controlling his layered desire, this was Michael at this time. He had a romantic layer, which wanted to give Nikita an unforgettable first time. He had a passionate layer that wanted to make this woman fall in love with him right now. And he had a wild component wanting to be in her now, pounding his manhood into her sex.

But the balanced more tamed side of Michael was going to win. He was allowing Nikita to be in control. The blonde was setting the pace, to Michael’s grateful relief, she was open to new and creative wonderful acts. She said “Bedroom…now”.

He was wearing only his black satin boxer shorts that he had put on as a second thought.

Michael usually went sans underwear, she commented when she saw them “Mmm Michael, I thing those are sexy.” His shoes and socks long forgotten. Michael smelled incredibly and was tremendously aroused by her soft perfume.

He was…embarrassed and actually blushed. The blonde was pulling him to her bedroom and he screeched to a halt, pulled her hard and whispered “Payback is a b***ch my sweet.” And plunged his tongue into her mouth while popping her bra - off.

She smiled, the CFM heels making her just a tad shorter, so she approached the bare chested man with her arousing display of the softest, perkiest, prettiest breasts Michael had ever felt rubbed against his body. So she, adding to the bonding moment, grabbed his member hard and whispered as he winced fearing climaxing, “Promise?”

“Promise…?” He pushed her to her knees. Not in an act of submission, in an act of lust.

****

Nikita was worshiping at the altar of the BodGodSamuelle. Her cushy mouth was with content adulation sucking the pleasure from him into her. He was resting his back on the hallway wall and his hands were digging into her magnificent soft hair. She was scraping her fire red painted nails up and down his taught strong calves and the thighs that strained to keep him physically erect. For erect he was everywhere.

Michael’s head was resting against the same wall. His usually restrained demeanor way out of undemonstrative mode. He was grunting and gasping, making silent deals with the pleasure deity du jour. His ears were humming while her mouth, wet, hot and strong vacuumed the indescribable sweet juices that come before completion.

His green eyes the color of a hyacinth bloom, his sweet mouth opened like a chick not quite out of the egg, his talented tongue darting in an out in an effort to moisten the velvet lips that encased it. Michael was a portrait of unbridled passion and uninhibited hunger and he was giving as well as receiving for the blonde beauty under him was herself in a place were the world is moving and one is standing still.

Nikita could feel his syrup start is final approach. His sugary taste overwhelming her senses and mixing with her saliva to enthrall her taste buds. She disengaged with a resounding suck and she smiled kissing softly the engorge tip with a reverence allowed to other worldly beings. “Want to move to the room?” Then Nikita finally licked the crease of distended capitulation, sending Michael into an uncontrollable quest against a stellar finale before he was ready.

He couldn’t talk, never mind think of a response, make a decision or answer a question. He quickly said “Hmm”, which the pool of passion princess before him took as a ‘yes’. Nikita got up to her own wobbly limbs and kissing his hard nipples preceded to lead him to the bedroom.

Michael would have none of this. He was way too far-gone to travel the 15 feet to the bedroom. His eyes shuttered, his mouth pleaded “Kita please…I can’t…” so the blonde, still in control capitulated and wrapping her arms around Michael’s neck she said, “Right here, right now…take me Michael.” She wrapped first one leg around his waste, then the other. This was done with dexterity, she was light and to Michael’s enjoyment her sex was more than ready for him.

He turned them and now the beautiful woman’s back was to the wall, helping sustain her surrounding action packed honey. His wonderful eyes reflected an awe-inspiring contentment and vast devotion to his partner. He laughed saying while holding her soft muscular butt in his sensual hands, “Thank you Ni-ki-ta…is it good for you too?”

***

The blonde was panting, digging her nails into his longish curls at the back of his head. Her legs imitating her arms wrapped around his sculpted hip and her feet dug into his butt like spurs on a stallion. And he was, for all practical purposes, a thoroughbred, proud, strong, spirited, and beautiful. His lap a bit exposed as the blonde semi sat on his knees encasing his aroused invaluable stirrup.

Michael was weaving in and out, a motion that left him spent and desperate. He would move like a magnificent wave towards shore, just to run back again to gain momentum. He was digging his hands on her narrow waist and he’d lead her movements in perfect synchronization with his own. In, out, around, a bit deeper, slow, in, out, around, and deeper yet…on and on.

She was beyond words; his manhood hitting her well aroused folds with expert intent. She wanted to scream but no sound was coming. Their sweat encrusted skin shimmering in the shadowed hallway, which would now be her favorite place in her home.

He mumbled, couldn’t remember if he said it in French or in English. “I can’t hold on Kita…I need to…” Didn’t finish the thought, he speeded up the pace. Silently castigated himself, for he wanted her to reach paradise before him and if she didn’t hurry his good intentions would be for not.

The beautiful woman repeated cries that bounced in her throat like his movements below. “Ah, Ah, Ah.” Somehow the friction provided by Michael’s swift moves were aligning Nikita’s focused way and calling his name she arrived at the gates of heaven itself. “Michael.” Her eyes the color of the firmament in a cloudless spring afternoon, a blue more clear than the waters off some uncharted island. Michael bit his lower lip, commanded her to look up at him and planted his heels on the floor. Straining to bury himself as deep as she possibly could take, he let out a perfect oh and a sweet resplendent “Ahh Kita, mon Dieu, je adore c’est moment.”

And together in perfect synchronicity they exploded. Their vibrations causing riot less havoc with their senses. They felt the earth come to a total stop when her inner muscles massaged the man buried there. He was desperately kissing her mouth, his tongue lapping lips, teeth, roof and tongue with equal dedication and grateful response.

Like in a séance where the psychic receives messages from the unknown these two beings had found total harmony in this impromptu blending. Their awareness a bit richer for this encounter had proven to be life altering. Even if the players were still not aware that the gods of fate had met in their beings and were negotiating with cupid a respite of magnum proportions in their previous state of singlehood.

She wanted to speak up but was afraid if she moved an inch the rapture would end. She was sure if this moment did conclude, so would her life. The woman, as women will do, reflected right there imbedded in this incredible man, that this had been the most erotically perfect moment of her time.

Michael thinking, like men tend to do, how incredibly hot this woman was and how much more he wanted to do with her, for her and to her. He also didn’t want to move, the after shocks of their explosion still causing small tremors. The Richter scale would have probably broken, for earthquakes were not as potent and powerful as their lovemaking had been so far.

“Now Kita where is that bedroom of yours?” He asked her reverently at the sight of the joyous tears rolling down her fabulous face. He kissed the tears off tasting their salty liquid completely awestruck. Never had any woman cried for Michael as such.

He finally let her down, her heels unclasping at their joining and moving swiftly to the floor. He held her close still for the tears were moving him to arousal again. She took his hand and brought it to her mouth and then to his. She pulled him with her to her bedroom and there she crawled unto the bed, he followed close behind, pulling her legs apart and crawling between them.

All the while Michael kissed her feet, then the back of her calves, her thighs and finally a bite to each cheek collecting a moan from the blonde and an attempt to flip to her back. The man above her would not allow the move, so she meekly remained on her stomach and subjected herself, with great delight, to his careful ministrations.

***

Michael finally arrived at his intended destination. He was completely covering Nikita with his taught athletic body. His very alive manhood nestled between the blonde beauty’s well-rounded enviable buttocks. His taught chest softly encasing her perfect back. The ladies head resting on her feather pillows for her arms were stretch above her head and tenderly being caressed by the talented hands of the divine being above her.

Her baby blue eyes closed tightly for she was afraid that if they were a tad opened the dream she was living would escape through the crack. His clever tongue drinking greedily her indescribably taste. He was massaging her hands, her neck, her arms, and her back. Chaotically using his mouth to kiss a path bordering her hair, her ears, and her face - first one side then the other. They were both moaning and making satisfied noises.

He was stretching this sweet torture by repeating some of the steps he had followed out in the hallway. Surprisingly Nikita requested in a whisper of a groan “Michael, now please I want you in me hard and fast…hmm…please.”

He smiled, she could hear the intake of air between his panting; he realized she was puzzled and questioning the sound so he enlightened her, “You are incredible, giving me what I need, needing what I crave.”

Michael picked her bottom up by wrapping his right arm around her waist, then biting again those tempting cheeks he placed her on her knees and knelt behind her. He entered with one agonizingly careful and slow stroke, which inveigled a satisfied murmur from both lovers riveting mouths. And then whispering for her to get ready, Michael stroked rapidly, deeply and careful to reach and caress every wall of her house. And the lovers, again in perfect unison reached a mind-boggling high.

The man, feeling a bit embarrassed for not having touched her, as he already knew she enjoyed, disengaged from the blonde and lay face to face with her. He moved his talented fingers between her legs; a sweet mixture of juices saturated her, and very gently in a perfect one more time, brought her to a shuddering liberating release. She let out a silent “oh.”

They lay face to face; legs intertwined arms wrapped warmly around their sweat-drenched bodies. He smiled again, stroked her left eyebrow, which elicited an equal devastating smile from Nikita and said “Hungry?”

“For food?” She cracked back.

They continued smiling and observing each other in spent silence. They halted their performance for a moment to eat ice cream and slather whipped cream on each other laughing as they played. Then after loving each other one more time they continued softly discussing life and perpetually keeping erotic contact with each other.

After they had come down, a quick shower and a game that came close to the sexual act, the lover slept wrapped in each others embrace, in each others caress and in each others physical side. For this moment they were absolutely one. For this moment they were exactly were they wanted to be.

Michael woke up about 9 hours later, around 10:30 on Saturday morning. The aroma of coffee fresh ground French blend was the cause of his waking up. She had carefully laid out for the man a razor, a toothbrush and a set of ‘surgical scrubs’ all still in little plastic wraps. He smiled “She must have been a Scout - always prepared.”

She felt him way before she saw him, as he moved from her bedroom to her bathroom and finally through her apartment to the kitchen were she stood, dressed in a pair of white cotton shorts and a white muscle shirt, no underwear he noticed from where he stood. “Good morning, I don’t remember you being a girl scout?” he asked wrapping an arm around her and kissing her ear, then her mouth.

She could taste toothpaste and mouthwash - he could taste orange juice. “Mmm, good morning…why do you ask? She asked turning around, now flush against Michael, Nikita continued the kiss he had started.

Michael’s hands were resting on either side of the blonde who was herself leaning on the counter next to the stove. “See what I mean,” he said between kisses “you have fresh croissants and vignettes, and this…” he continued raising his brows “have you been dating a surgeon?”

She let out a deep laugh, “No I have those scrubs from when Carla stayed here with her boyfriend about a year ago. I sent them to be laundered and then kept them just as they came back. I thought you would like to change from the tux.” She kissed him again and he shoved a piece of donut in her mouth.

“I love your being prepared, very impressive, what do you want to do today?”

“Well I think we could get some of your clothes,” kiss “and then go join Mick and Terri. They are driving to Atlantic City, I thought…”

He interrupted and said “Of course.” Pulled her away from the counter and took her back to the bedroom where a quickie drew ecstatic cries from the beautiful pair, before eliciting another short nap.

*****

After a nap, a snack and more good conversation - with a heavy doze of cuddling, Michael and Nikita were finally on the way to meet Mick and his new fiancé.

Michael had not seen Nikita’s brother in a very long time. But first they had to stop by Michael’s for clothing.

Michael’s apartment was pure masculinity, a deep contrast to Nikita’s frilly one. He had added his touch to his home and the blonde now roamed around the living room with total curiosity. This was a good way of learning about the man, right where he lived.

He yelled (as much as you could call his loud talk yelling) to make herself at home and go put on some coffee. His kitchen was better stocked than the blonde’s. It was obvious that Michael could cook, for he had herbs growing on the window sill, spices she had never heard of, fancy vinegar and oil and a little mill to grind the coffee beans he kept in magnificent pottery canisters.

She looked confused at the gadget and at the three different beans that lined the countertop and heard a laugh from behind her. Michael stood by the kitchen door wearing no shirt, a pair of painted-on jeans, waistband unbuttoned and was proceeding to put on a moss green sweater, she silently gasped at the sight.

She was wearing a pair of tight soft blue wool pants and matching sweater. Around her neck a delicate blue stone chocker. He came to stand next to her and said “Here Kita, let me…”

She turned and wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her face on the chest that now wore the soft sweater, ”How am I to learn if you don’t teach me how to make the coffee - don’t make fun of me.”

He smiled “I am in awe of you, not making fun…here, he dragged her to the counter were the beans and paraphernalia lay. Placing her taught against his very aroused front with arms around her, he started mixing the beans, grinding them and pouring them into the Italian coffeemaker - all shiny and copper. He was playing with her ear in his mouth, biting the lobe and sneaking his tongue ever so slightly into the delicate shell.

“Mmm” he heard her say.

“The coffee does smell good.” He joked.

“Mmm…you smell better.” She tried to turn around, but he wouldn’t allow it. He kept her before him and rubbed his hard body against her soft behind. Sugar procured, bone china mugs obtained and finally coffee poured to be savored both.

“I know you prefer tea, but I thought you would like to try this blend.” He whispered into her most sensitized ear.

“No…cream?” She wondered how she was making conversation.

“No, you should enjoy this pure- no additives. Na - Na, no sugar either.” He continued.

Nikita started savoring the coffee, its rich aroma a pre-emptive strike against the pungent taste that filled her mouth. “Mmm this is almost as good as your lips”. And she turned and kissed his subtle mouth.

Michael smiled, picked her up and walked purposely to his bedroom “We have not done it here yet.”

She giggled and broke into a run dumping her ceremoniously unto the soft feather mattress that covered Michael’s firm Sealy. He started to touch her through the tight feel of her wool slacks, her moistness apparent even at this early stage. He whispered again, “This is going to be quick, we don’t want to be late.” She hurried like a child, wild eyed with anticipation, to remove her clothes as he mirrored her actions.

After a most erotic satisfying coupling, the beautiful pair dressed in silence, picked up the dirty coffee cups and washed them along with the coffee maker. Leaving everything as neatly as when they found it Michael and Nikita holding hands walked out into the very cold but fresh and clean morning air.

***

Michael and Nikita drove into Atlantic City in his black Mercedes; they were both newbies to the gambling east coast Mecca. The huge advertisement displays announced the fantastic entertainment that awaited them. The signs announcing hotels, casinos, shows, entertainers and of course drinking and eating.

Nikita was sitting on the edge of the seat taking in her surroundings like a child at Disney World. He smiled and sneaked peeks at the beautiful blonde, the radio blaring some oldies station with Pattie Labelle singing “…Voulez vous couche avec moi ce soir…” the blonde joined in and then commented. “I like this version better than the new one.”

“I like that I didn’t have to ask you that question.” He retorted saucily.

“Oh I get it…very clever Monsieur Michel.” She reached over and kissed his eyebrow, he let out a sigh of delight.

They pulled, through the tight entrance, in contrast, into a very wide grand driveway. The Trump Hotel and Casino was a garish and bawdy as any other in the famed Boardwalk. “Good afternoon” the three uniformed men said in unison “are you checking in?” The shortest man asked closing the driver’s door as the passenger one was opened.

“Yes - Samuelle is the name.” Michael answered as he approached the blonde and took her hand again.

“Yes sir, I see your reservation…please this way…” As the bags were being removed, the doorman opened the door for Nikita and Michael and they entered the huge and very bright casino, to the side Registration were Michael just signed and moved on, everything was ready for them, compliments of Mick and Terry.

The Suite was huge, just as showy as the rest of the hotel, but comfortable and offering everything they could need. She laughed reaching their bed, “Look Michael, they thought of everything”, there in a basket they found condoms and oils.

“Michael called out from the other room, out here they have everything an alcoholic could need.” Laughing, “I can imagine what is in there.”

She joined him next to the bar as he opened a bottle of expensive Chardonnay and picked up a canapé and popped it into his mouth. Pouring the wine he popped a small aioli covered mushroom into the blonde’s lips, “Taste these.” He said.

“Incredible…” she added, clinking her glass with his.

“Salut” they wished and drank, kissing right after and tasting each other’s sinful mouths.

***

The phone rang out and startled the couple that was necking on the couch. They were both sitting, her legs lying over his lap. He closed his eyes annoyed and gave the blonde a chaste kiss on her lips and a light pad on her legs, which she removed. She slowly moved to the phone and said, “Oui? Bringing a bright smile to Michael’s lips.

“Hey Pupsicle. Are you settled?” It was Mick with Terri saying in the background that she wanted to speak to Nikita.

“Hey Mick, always perfect timing, yes of course we are settled…put Terri on, I hear her.”

“Hey Nikita I have great news for Michael.” Terry said. “Do you want me to bring it up later or when I see you guys in a few minutes.”

“Hey Terr, the first…” Nikita responded.

“I understand” Terry said, “come down, we are waiting by the main entrance to go to a Restaurant in town.”

Nikita turned to Michael who had moved to the balcony. “They are waiting for us to eat.”

“OK we’ll be right down.” Michael said closing the balcony door.

Nikita put back the receiver hanging up the phone and moved to retrieve her black leather coat and her purse. They were still wearing the same clothing. “Do you think we should change?” He said.

“Don’t go changing to try to please me…” She retorted.

“I’ll take that as a No. You know I just read Billy Joel is in one of the Hotel’s performing.” Michael again.

She ran to him, put her arms, and thus her purse around his neck and kissed him saying, “I love Billy”.

They left the 28th floor Suite and walked to the elevator, his arm around her shoulders and the other hand in his pocket. She seemed to be bouncing. When they arrived at the lobby they walked over to the Casino, one step lower than the lobby floor and with brass posts and ropes dividing the area. “There is Mick” Michael, surprisingly, said, “no hair.”

To Michael, Mick had not changed one bit except for the hair. He was the same incredibly annoying individual Michael remembered, and somehow…missed.

“Hell Michael, you could have grown up less pretty.” Mick.

“Mick behave.” Nikita.

“OK Kita, some things never change.” And with this he embraced his friend in a bear hug. “How the hell have you been Mick?”

His contagious smile capturing once more his friends warm hug. Terry smiling broader because she could see the contentment her friend Nikita felt. Michael looked at the brunette over Mick’s shoulder and winked at her. “Michael,” releasing him. “Explain what you just said.”

“Little fellow…” Michael deadpanned.

“Oh yeah…Terri the girls in the school would call me Little Fellow, little did they know heyh?” Mick joins Michael and Nikita laughing.

“We were remembering this morning…I’ve read so much about you Mick, you are in every computer magazine I pick up.” Michael.

“And don’t forget the finance periodicals, although I would love to do a Playboy shoot, you know before I get married and …” Mick joked.

Terry interrupted, teasingly slapping the laughing man “I’ll be surgically removing your most valuable asset before you go to that shoot…not so Little fellow!”

Everyone laughed and proceeded to the restaurant for dinner while catching up some more. Terry and Mick were a nice couple Michael thought as he looked at the pair laughing and kibitzing. Nikita and Michael holding hands, fingers intertwined, contact uninterrupted.

***

The handsome couple returned to their suite after eating at a 5 star restaurant. They’d ordered escargot, lobster thermidol and some luscious chocolate desert. They drank expensive wine, including a desert wine to die for. They were Mick’s guests and he insisted in paying for everything. Michael elicited a promise from Mick that Sunday’s fare would be his treat.

Gambling at the slot machines followed, the blonde telling the handsome French Canadian that she had a system…laughing and enjoying themselves, the couple lost. The blonde feigning an apologetic stance.

“Kita it is nothing, a meager $100.00. Stop feeling bad…I’ll collect…” He had said.

The blonde grabbed his hard a$$ and kissed him slowly whispering, “Promise?”

Their next stop had been to see Billy Joel. Nikita’s celebrity afforded them a backstage visit with the Piano man. He had been charming and Nikita and Terry had shrilled when they finally left the songster, proceeding to sing while in the elevator “Sing us a song you’re the piano man, sing us a song tonight…”

All in all the night was fun with a capital F. After bidding Mick and Terry farewell, Michael had walked Nikita the short distance down the hallway to their suite, walking backwards trying to convince the blonde, “Please Kita, only once, let’s go do it in the steam room, please.

“Michael the room is for everyone in this floor.” She said.

“It is private, no one will come in.” He retorted.

“Michael how do you know it is private?” She asked.

“I asked the Concierge. I made a reservation already.” He added sheepishly.

“I am going to have to stop being so predictable.” She said flirting.

“Not predictable, you are someone that can be trusted…” He smiled.

“Did you read my number in a men’s bathroom - For a good time 1-800-CALLNIK?” She joked now inside their suite.

“No my love, you told me you aimed to please.” Michael kissed her, a kiss that went on for a minute or two, “I am the easy one…you ‘rented me’, but have been pleasing me ever since.” He continued kissing her.

The couple was getting carried away, Michael trying to dominate the situation, but kowtowing to the magnificent Nikita after she fondled just the right spots. The clothing had been long forgotten and they stood naked and in lust.

“Let’s go to the steam room.” She pushed him by his buttocks towards the bathroom, while breaking the kiss, “get the robes.”

“If you insist my pet.” He bowed sporting the cutest look Nikita had seen, she was getting quite comfortable with this man, realized this and immediately got a bit bi***y.

Snapping at the naked man, “I am not a pest.”

He laughed donning his robe and helping her with hers, “I didn’t say pest…pet…I am going to have to improve mon Anglais.” He kissed her soft pouting lips and said, “Are you ok?”

“Yes I am sorry, your Anglais is fine.” She apologized thinking she needed to get a grip.

They held each other while walking across the hallway to the Steam Room. An attendant gave the couple a key and they proceeded to the second room where they found big thick towel sheets, comfortable plush terry robes and other accoutrements. Michael set the music to soft jazz and the thermostat on the medium setting. He put water on the ‘coals’ and sat in the wooden benches in the wooden room. Nikita sat on his lap.

The couple’s exquisite lovemaking was complimented by the ambiance created by the Steam Room. Sensuality the order of the moment; loads of sweating, groping and sex. Michael had been right, Nikita thought, this particular setting was creating a most unforgettable moment.

His thoughts were straight on the pleasure portion of this particular session of lovemaking. He was concentrating in giving the woman with him the most incredible feelings of fulfillment. And of course his ultimate objective to achieve paradise numerous times.

After going at it for about an hour, spent and exhausted the couple went back to their suite. They drank lots of water, massaged each other with oils and they went to sleep. He held her close from behind, his legs over hers and his arms around her upper body. They dreamt about each other and didn’t wake up until Mick and Terry rang them up around 10:30 Sunday morning.

***

Michael hung up the phone and looked at the woman besides him. Her beautiful eyes closed, but her mouth smiled perhaps with remembrance, perhaps in a dream. “Kita?” he whispered.

She didn’t answer; she asleep and Michael could see the REM and smiled. Quietly remained sitting while watching the sleeping beauty now draped on his thighs. He could see the contour of her breast lying against his hard lap and sighed. This was a magnificent woman and Michael didn’t want to hurt her. But somehow he knew someone was going to get hurt, he could feel this and so he felt himself pull back.

Her perfectly rounded forehead, the pink of her lips and the shell of her ear he enjoyed so much. Her lashes how they fanned out on her cheeks, the blue eyes that were now shuttered by the most amazing lids. The way her shoulders sloped unto those wonderful arms. The raise and fall of her wonderful breasts as she calmly inhaled and exhaled. The flare of her nostrils, barely detectable.

The way she smelled, the color of her hair, her porcelain skin, the blonde curls that crowned her sex. The amazing way her legs went on forever, the nails that raked his back and the hands that caressed his soul. He was worried, someone would get hurt…and that someone could be him.

His heart was tugging a warning to pull back, to separate need from want. His intelligence calculating an exit, creating a barrier, setting invisible parameters, and in his mind’s eye, they kept on crumbling - badly built, start again you fool, he rebuked his lack of smarts. The blonde was the kind you brought home to Madelyn, the kind that Paul warned his son about…’Play with toys Michael, not with women.”

His alter ego battling with his present self - ‘what does it matter, she is just a friend.’ He noticed he was stroking her arm with his thumb, kissing the top of her head without being aware of this. Comfortable, as though he had done this forever, as though he could do it from now on. ‘Michael she is just a f**k’ he told himself, and then immediately felt guilty for having wronged her even in her mind.