"Part Two"
Alternate Universe
NC-17

Walter and Adrian had gone home half-hour before; it was now 12:15am. Madelyn and Paul sat in the parlor playing Scrabble and chatting, their voices soft and intimate. Crystal warmed Cognac snifters sat on the ornate ebonized oak fireplace mantle while Paul enjoyed a dark cigarette. His hand caressing the woman’s hand with true attention created ripples of pleasure on her body.

Madelyn was wearing a pearl color silk peignoir set and satin slippers in the same shade. Paul wearing gray pajamas and robe and leather slippers; both ready for bed. Elegant looking people in an elegant environment completing elegant decadent tasks.

In contrast the younger couple looked totally complacent as they entered the room. Nikita had rolled the waistband of the white tap pants she wore letting her bellybutton show through. Her top was one of Michael’s black tees that she had chopped, cutting the neckline and shortening its length. Michael wore white cotton string pants and muscle tee shirt. Neither wore shoes, although she wore sox.

Nikita, with her robin egg blue eyes was laughing her husky laugh at a Steven story Michael was telling her. Their fingers intertwined as they walked hand in hand. His sea-foam gaze filled with a laughter that surprised the older couple. He had been a bear, moping around before the blonde had arrived.

He told them Nikita was jet-lagged and hungry, and asked if the gathering could be moved to the kitchen were he would make his famous Quiche. The recipe was Michael’s mother and the thought brought a smile to Paul’s lips. Nikita made some remark about Michael being proof positive that ‘real men do eat Quiche.”

Michael busied himself gathering the ingredients for his patisserie and starting the baking process. Paul prepared the coffee and tea, starting with grinding the coffee beans. Nikita and Madelyn went about setting the china and silver and bringing the accoutrements and other baked goods to the table. Their conversation animated and familial, Paul and Madelyn entering the butler’s pantry looking for Adrian’s home made boysenberry jam.

Michael stole a kiss and bending licked the exposed skin above her low slung pants. He had made sure the elder pair could not see them and commented softly in her ear “I feel like a teenager hiding from my parents.” Then bit her ear lobe, sucking it noisily.

“Can we play seventeen year olds in our parents ‘rec room’.” She asked winking; he raised an eyebrow in delight.

He grabbed her from behind, holding a bud vase with a single red rose in one hand and hugging her flush against his body with the other, “You are beautiful, sexy and kinky.” Laughing throaty in her ear and nipping at her neck.

The group sat to eat in the country kitchen table, big heavy and antiqued. Manipulated by Paul the conversation turned to Nikita’s childhood and adolescence. She spoke about her mother, Paul didn’t have a clue who Nikita’s mother had been. She spoke about her father, Nikita showed such strong resentment against the man she sarcastically called Mr. Jones that Paul winced. Michael caught the reaction and decided it was time to put a stop to the conversation.

“So what do you guys think of my culinary skills?” He asked.

Madelyn catching on to the silence and sadness followed Michael’s lead and answered. “Well, I for one have decided that when you are in London - you can cook; the food was fabulous.”

“Yes it was.” Paul added, having made the decision that until he was one hundred percent sure the DNA results were indeed his and Nikita’s, he would not even touch the subject of Nikita’s life again.

Nikita got up and started clearing the table, making a tremendous effort to quickly leave the funk behind. “Michael…Madelyn’s decision applies in France. You can cook…I am not too good in the kitchen, although I am willing to learn.”

He brought plates to the sink and put an arm around her shoulders “I’ll teach you.”

“Michael has a wonderful chef at the vineyard Nikita.” Paul said.

“Well I wouldn’t call her a chef…she wouldn’t call herself a chef either. Kita, she is…how old Dad, about 75?” Michael skillfully was improving the ambiance.

“At least Michael.” Paul added, “She used to work for Michael’s mom, but didn’t want to leave France, so she remained with Michael.” Paul added.

“And she also loves me Kita.” Michael added laughing, “She is going to give you a run for your money.”

“Why, you don’t think she’ll like me?” Nikita said, her old self-steem issues floating to the surface.

“No, she’ll love you; she’ll just try to fatten you up.” He kissed the blonde, she needed kissing, he thought.

“You two should retire for the night. Nikita has to be exhausted.” Madelyn said.

“Good night then.” Nikita said kissing Madelyn and Paul, grabbing Michael’s hand after he had kissed his father and Madelyn also. The couple walked silently in a deep embrace to their room.

//////

Madelyn breathed a sigh of relief when Nikita left for their bedroom. She turned to Paul and caught a glimpse of the man leaving the room with his head lowered. Madelyn followed. She entered the parlor and found him leaning by the fireplace - flames reflected in his face along with his anguish.

“Paul, what is wrong?” Madelyn asked.

“Why does Nikita call her father Mr. Jones?” Paul asked, instead of answering Madelyn.

“Her mother was a drunk and a whore. When the girl would question her about her father, she would tell the girl that Mr. Jones was her father. Roberta never knew who Nikita’s father was. I met Nikita’s mother just before she died of colon cancer. I was responsible for putting the girl in foster care - never forgave myself.” The beautiful brunette answered, sorrowful frown marring her face.

“Come with me to my office, let me show you something. Please tell me about the woman who is about to marry my son.” Paul said holding her hand.

Angrily she slapped his hand away and almost hissing told him, “Michael could not be luckier, do you hear me? Nikita is a wonderful woman….”

Paul interrupted, “No Madelyn, please don’t misinterpret what I just said. I’ll show you what I have and you’ll understand. Michael is indeed a lucky man to have found her.”

He chastely kissed Madelyn’s soft cheek and asked her to continue. “I was a social worker and Roberta was brought in with colon cancer to basically die. I had the girl put in foster care, Nikita was 10.” Madelyn continued.

Michael had arrived and was leaning on the door-jam to the library. His athletic body and muscular arms tensing when he heard the conversation that was going on between the older couple. He had left Nikita sleeping and had come down to do exactly what Madelyn had done, question his stepfather about his insistent interrogation of Nikita. The couple turned and saw Michael.

“Please continue Madelyn. That is exactly what I am here to learn.” He sat on an ottoman while Paul opened the safe on the floor by the fireplace. Madelyn sat next to Michael, exchanged a glance with the obviously affected man and padded his knee.

“My plan, the one I discussed with Roberta, was to process Nikita through the system and then adopt her. This did not happen, first the courts would not giveme the girl, I was single woman at that point. Then I tried to take her in as my foster child; the system would not allow one of its employees to become a foster parent, so I quit my job. “ Madelyn was softly crying, the men riveted to her every word.

“Then they ‘misplaced her’ this not only because the system stunk, or ‘sucked’ as she said, but because she had finally run away. One day I was on call in the ER, as an intern and she strolled in asking to do volunteer work for a place to hide from the cold. It was 9 years to the date that her mother had died and with her my promise to take care of Nikita.” Madelyn walked to the bar and served herself a glass of water.

“Tell me about her mother.” Michael said.

“Roberta was a remarkable woman but as I said, a drunk and a whore. She did not prostitute herself, as she would say, ‘she loved sex.’ Sometimes I think that perhaps she was a nymphomaniac, couldn’t help herself. She was beautiful, long brown hair, brown eyes - big expressive, a contagious laughter, perfect teeth. Tall, slender, a real looker.”

Paul stood, holding a manila envelope, served himself a shot of whiskey and drank it in one gulp. Michael looked surprised, his father never drank hard liquor, unless it was a social occasion. “Was she Australian?” Paul almost whispered.

“No she was from Chicago, however, she had lived in Australia, even had Nik there and lived in Australia until her dauther was 9 or 10.” Madelyn answered looking out the window into the night.

“I am Nikita’s father.” Paul blurted out “I am Mr. Jones.”

“What?” Michael screamed.

“Paul, Roberta didn’t know who Nik’s father was, how can you…” Madelyn said.

Paul pulled the documents out of the envelope. “I got these from the hospital when Nikita was shot by my wife.”

Michael moved to take them. Madelyn reached them first. Both reading in unison, reaching the end of the documents ‘Conclusive Results’, some figure and some scientific language that in essence said “99.8%” confirmed that Subject 1 (Paul) is the father of Subject 2 (Nikita).

Michael sat on the leather couch with a large thud. Madelyn let out a gasp and asked Paul if he remembered the incident, had he been in Australia, did he remember Roberta, did he know she had been pregnant, on and on…

“Hold on Madelyn” Paul said. “I was in Australia stationed for over 2 months. I had just come out of the Vietnamese prison camps and the Air Force decided that I deserved a cushy assignment. I suspected that it had to do with keeping me out of CIA reach. So I was assigned to this Australian beach town and I had nothing better to do than party. Soon after I got there I met this magnificent looking woman - you described her perfectly. She said her name was Bobbie, I always thought it stood for Barbara, never knew her last name. She told me she was on the pill. We spent every waking hour in my hotel room. I had been a prisoner for five years and she said she should help me make up for it - she did.” The two people sitting on the couch looked on in astonishment.

“I was young, inexperienced and desperately lonely. Couldn’t go home until the Air Force let me. She was an American, that made her even more attractive. I swear I never knew she was pregnant. When the time arrived for me to leave, the Air Force came and got me, took me away for a month of interrogation.” Paul was facing the fireplace, hands resting on the wall, elegant body leaning.

“When I was released I took the first plane back to Australia, she was gone from the country without a trace. I looked for her…not to marry, just to say proper good-byes. I was tired of leaving things hanging, unresolved. I swear…” Paul was now facing the door pity in his blue eyes. Michael and Madelyn turned to find Nikita’s pain edged face, tears streaming down her face standing by the door.

She angrily looked at Paul and ran. Out the front door, down the driveway, so fast that Michael had trouble catching up with her. He kept on yelling for her to stop, but she wouldn’t. She would not listen, she could not listen, her crying obscuring her reasoning.

He threw himself on her, his weight forcing her on the soft grass beneath them. He was making soothing shushing noises, kissing her hair and pleading with her to calm down. Nikita could not understand how Michael could be so calm. Her father had basically confessed that she was a mistake, a fluke, the result of a sexual fling with no meaning, no purpose, no reason.

“Get off me Michael.” Her voice suddenly calm - extremely void of feeling.

Michael moved and helped her up, she pulled his arm away. “Kita…” Michael said.

“It’s over Michael.” Very matter of factly returning his ring and turning she walked away from him.

He looked at her retreating body and sighed. Then looking at the ring he followed slowly. What had he done?

////

Madelyn and Paul watched astonished as Nikita walked in, the front of her body wet from her contact with the grass. “Nikita, I…” Paul started moving towards her.

She stopped, menacingly turned around, stared him down, making him stop on his tracks. Michael hurriedly walking in and stopping himself. “Save it Paul - my mother is dead, I have berated her enough - you…you are not worth even my wrath.”

Nikita moved up the stairs two steps at a time. She approached the bedroom door, inhaled deeply and braced herself, walking into the room and purposely finding her suitcase, which some maid had emptied, and started to pack. Michael tried the door, to his relief it was unlocked, so he entered.

“Kita…” He said softly.

“Michael, you heard what I said to Paul. The same goes for you.” Holding up her hand as to quiet his comment. “I don’t know why…perhaps because you are here, you are his son, you had the life I should have had with him…I don’t know why, all I know is that I can’t go on living here…”

Now he interrupted her tongue-lashing. “Why is this my fault? I am also incensed. I don’t live here. We won’t be living here. If you want to go now, we’ll go home…”

“You didn’t let me finish. I can’t go on being here or with you.” She said sitting on the bed, hands covering her face; she had stopped crying.

“Enough Kita. I understand how you are feeling. Believe me I do. I lost my father when I was tiny, I know pain…my mother married another man…I was confused. You can be angry with Paul, never speak with him again…I don’t care, but you will not turn away from me. Damn it Kita, you love me don’t you?” He said.

Silence from the blonde beauty, whose hands continued on her face. He knelt before her, took her hands away from her face. She defiantly looked into his deep emerald eyes. Anger displayed like a mask covering her face.

“I don’t care about your pain…” And slapped him.

She tried one more time to slap Michael, but he grabbed her hand hard. The anger was now reflected on his face. She cringed unnoticeably and tried to disengage her hands from his. He moved forward and kissed her, her mouth closed, he insisted she opened up and then he separated, left her wanting more.

“You don’t care about my pain? You don’t love me? You are willing to leave me…damn it Kita…you are not who your mother or father make you…you are your own woman.” Michael said, pushing her back on the bed and attacking her with all the passion his anger mustered.

He kissed her hard, long, tongues at war deeply entrenched in each others’ mouths. Her eyes watching him, she was making noises of anger, turning him away with her sounds, holding him to her with her lips. His left hand holding her hands above her head; his right hand pushing her dirty shirt off her body, fumbling while he moved his hips, grinding them against hers, encouraging her body to betray her ire.

Nikita slowly allowed the onslaught, endured the passion, betrayed her anger. Her noises were becoming sounds of ecstasy and she was now angry with herself as well. Michael consciously released her hand, risking being rejected again. She didn’t move. He used both hands now to undress her, to undress himself.

His passion and drive did not waiver for a minute. He plowed forward, a nibble here, a lick there, softly, firmly, slowly, desperately. He thought of asking her to open her eyes, to watch the fire smolder to life, but thought better. Perhaps she could not see pass her anger and he wanted her, needed her and was going to enjoy her back to life.

When both perfect bodies were denuded, not only their flesh was bare. Michael had with his unrelenting calenture stripped the fury…at least for now. And Nikita…well the angry enchantress was reaping the fruit of his carefully laid plans. Enjoy now!!!

Michael slipped slowly down her body, separating her legs, propping her bare feet on the edge and moving her butt to hang off the bed. He held the tender cheeks with his strong hands, like if he was holding a baby’s bottom. He slowly pushed her knees enough to allow his now kneeling body to comfortably pleasure her.

She raised her upper torso and held it with her elbows. He had trailed a path of kisses and her skin glistened with his saliva were his lips had been. Her eyes now open showed loads of passion - long gone the hostility of before - or at least hidden in a pool of lust. She closed her knees a bit to hold his head perfectly still; she was guiding him with subtle moves, but basically trusting him to pleasure her.

Nikita and Michael had mated a hundred times or more since they had met. Their bodies were in tuned, like if they had been partners for a lifetime. He knew her body perfectly; she knew his passion points. He could draw her curves by memory, those places that made her swoon. She could spring his dick to life with a look, a sigh, a laugh and not necessarily a touch.

Michael was now sucking the hard little nub that turned her climax on and off. She spoke - not a moan, but words. “Michael please, I…” she took a deep breath, he misunderstood her plea and he stopped, moved up, pain in his eyes.

“Why are you stopping?” She said grabbing his face, confused.

“You said…” He turned his face and kissed the palm of her left hand.

“I was going to ask you to hurry…Now you have to start all over again.” She smiled and pushed his face down. He started and she grabbed his hair in a fist and pulled it up so their eyes would meet…”Nooky has nothing to do with how I feel.” Michael nodded and went back to work. She pulled him up again, “I am sorry Michael of course I care about your pain.” He nodded again, eyes full of passion…

Michael finished pleasuring Nikita. First he used his talented mouth, teasing her into thinking he was going to allow her to cum, just to distract his mouth until she came back down…and started again. Then he used his fingers, stroking her clit, her walls, her lips while he kissed and bit her tender inner thighs and pubic area. Then finally, moving up, he fondled her breasts with his mouth as he entered, riding her to a climax that made his heart stop. He saw angels, she saw heaven and together they saw love.

When they’d come down she asked him to just hold her; she couldn’t discuss her pain after having been thoroughly loved. He agreed and held her close, spooning with her, his leg over her own, his arms enveloping her whole. She was also exhausted, still jet-lagged; perhaps when tomorrow came she could see the light. After all, Michael loved Paul and would hate to have this rift between these two people he cared so much about. And quoting Scarlet O’Hara - after all tomorrow was another day…

////

Nikita’s eyes were closed; her voice full of sleep. 15 minutes had passed since their bodies relaxed. Michael held her comfortably, as if their bodies had been created to fit each other’s. She could hear his restful breathing, his breath unsettling her fine hairline and agitating her lower body. She was facing away from him and smiled, somehow he felt the subtle movement of her arrantly kissed lips.

“What is it Kita?” He kissed her ear and further repositioned his body and hers.

“Where’s my ring?” She asked.

“In my jeans’ pocket.” Michael answered his lip quirking.

“I need to wear it.” She now smiled broadly and faced him.

“Ok… it is on the floor on your side of the bed…get it.” He smiled and closed his eyes again.

“Michael…” She whined.

“Shh, aren’t you tired?” He asked eyes still closed. “Let me sleep or let me love you.” Showing her the immediate need that was ‘arising.’

“I am exhausted, but I need my ring.” She whined some more.

“Get it Kita, if I cross over you…you are getting fucked.” He laughed and turned his back to her.

She giggled “Ok, if you must…” She kissed the spot between his shoulder blades and moved to retrieve her ring. He looked over his shoulder; her bare butt facing him and smiled, this woman was truly an enchantress and he was glad she had calmed down.

She sat with her back to the headboard, tapping him on his shoulder. “What now?” He said.

“What now? Didn’t you say I was getting fucked?” She asked, total myrrh in her voice.

“Alright if you must…” Michael said, turning and pulling her to him. She straddled the handsome smiling man and laughed at finding his flagpole with the flag at full mast. He caressed her face and mouthed ‘I love you.’

She let out a sigh; a sad little smile and she impelled herself unto him. She moved slowly at first while he positioned his left hand on her waist, his right hand caressing her breasts. She then became desperate, so did he and she rode him faster, pulling in and out, going round in little circles, then in big ones. His eyes affixed with hers and she interlaced her fingers with his and held them away from their bodies, so she could be close to his mouth - kissing him soundly. And like this they came, she threw herself on him and said, “I want to sleep like this.”

“I love you Ni-ki-ta.” The man meaningfully told her.

“I love you Michael. I am sorry. Perhaps you are right…I may be part of my parents…but I am not them.” She said sleepily.

“I hope you can get pass this…your life is too precious and impressive to allow other’s mistakes, whomever they might be, to destroy your happiness; our rapture.” He told her, kissing her mouth.

“I know…you are right; but I don’t want him to ‘daddy’ me.” She said.

“So tell him that…I am not defending him, don’t get me wrong; he should have told you the moment he found out…I don’t know what he should have done, but he should have acted…Kita he is a good man - I can guarantee he is destroyed.” He added.

“Should I go say something to him?” Nikita asked.

“Not tonight Kita. Go to sleep. Good night my love - don’t ever leave me.” He said.

“I love you too Michael.” She reposted.

“Don’t ever go Kita, because I know I cannot live without you.” And they slept - Nikita’s dream spy finally had a face.

/////

Around 8:30 am Michael and Nikita awoke, the morning was sunny, the weather quite warm, the birds were singing, the world at peace…all was good. Nikita kissed Michael while he read the newspaper. She knew this day was going to be full of trying experiences, but Michael had been right…she had to get a grip, get a hold of her emotions which were at this point running amuck - not as bad as the night before though.

The handsome wine maker looked at his Nikita while she prepared for the day. Her face flashed a bit of anguish and apprehension and he knew this had to do with Paul and the debacle of the previous evening. He smiled, stood and walked into the bathroom after her; the news he had to share would bring her repose.

“Kita, the Clinic is closed today, remember - they have to attend that conference in Manchester. They won’t be back until tomorrow; I told them to leave Steven with us, tomorrow he starts school and we’ll leave after, so…” He said, turning the water on and entering the shower, she followed.

“Who will pick Steven up after school tomorrow?” She asked.

“Madelyn will be back. You were sleeping this morning when they left. Didn’t want to wake you up, but Madelyn…” He said and she interrupted.

“No problem Michael…I understand…it might be better; when we return to London I’ll be capable of facing Paul and my problems.” She said and kissed his neck, his chest and his mouth.

They finished the shower, ate breakfast, walked around the grounds and spent time with Steven at his new school. Madelyn, Paul, Walter and Adrian had already left Section One for the Psychiatry convention that would take them outside of London for a couple of days. The handsome duo would be going home the next day; they needed to get closure on many open emotional wounds in the days to come.

-----------

For now, the couple and Steven flew to Paris in Michael’s jet to go to Euro Disney. They arrived shortly before noon and spent a fun filled day…Michael and Steven ganging up on Nikita - who held her own. She rode all the rides, ate all the junk food, bought all the goodies and the three travelers returned to London, late and exhausted.

After dropping off the navy blazer, khaki shorts wearing 7 year old at school and Steven bravely waving goodbye; Michael and Nikita went to the private airport and boarded Michael’s jet. The couple, as passengers, enjoyed the luxurious interior of the Lear Jet. An hour and a bit later they arrived in France. Nikita watched, absorbed, paid attention and learned as she embarked on her new life and surroundings. A short helicopter ride later, they landed on the helipad in Michael’s property.

Michael was getting reports from the people around him. They acknowledged the blonde, but barely, because they were rapidly trying to advise the handsome owner of all and everything that had gone on in his absence. Michael held unto Nikita’s hands and tried hard to include her in the conversations.

Her French was not that fluent yet, so she told him. “It’s ok Michael. Do what you have to do…I’ll be immersed soon enough.” She turned to Michael’s majordomo and asked…”Could you take me to my room.”

The older man looked at Michael, who nodded and smiled at Nikita. “This way miss.” And Nikita kissing Michael proceeded to charm the man…”So tell me everything about Michael you think I need to know.”

The stodgy man, started to laugh…”Oh my goodness Lady Nikita, I don’t want to scare you…”

Michael walking away yelled over his shoulder, “Both of you, behave.”

----

Nikita was studying an encyclopedia of wines learning about Michael's region - Bordeaux. Michael walked into the library behind her and saw what she was doing, smiled and put a hand on her shoulder, startling her.

"Kita come seat here" he pulled her to her feet while he sat, pulling her to his lap. "Anything you need to know, I'll teach you...it'll be fun." He kissed her mouth soulfully.

"School starts right now, go..." she said closing the book and smiling.

"Let's see… the area" his wonderful lilt somehow exaggerated on the word ‘area’, "is famous for the Haut-Medoc wines of the 'Big 6' wineries."

"I know those names already, Hmm... Chateau Margaux, Chateau Lafite Rothschild,

Chateau Lafite, Chateau Latour, Chateau Haut-Brion and of course one whose owner I know intimately Chateau St. Mishel." She saucily said.

He looked at her suppressing a smile when he saw the serious attention she was paying him. "All 6 are very famous and world recognized. But our Chateau..." Nikita interrupted.

"Our Chateau?" She asked, surprised.

"Yes yours, mine and..." He said.

She quieted him with a resounding kiss, "you consider me..."

"Shh Kita, of course it is also yours...Now listen...Chateau St Mishel is at the vanguard of world recognition since it involves several thousand other Chateaux in the region." He said.

"Bordeaux right?" She asked, confused.

"Yeah Bordeaux -there is so much wine that it accounts for 34% of all French wine exports. Kita, we employ - in some capacity, 1 out of 6 people in the area." He was playing with her neckline - a low cut pink stretchy top, belly showing, low hung jeans.

"Excuse me professor...you are distracting the student...it is probably illegal or immoral to sexually engage your charges...but lot's of fun." She said as he kissed her and she kissed his neck and biting his chin.

Here she continued distracting him...her butt grinding to the rhythm of the music playing on the CD. A Salsa beat that invited her to dance, but he would not allow her to stand, he was enjoying her magic too much.

"Kita...back to the lessons." He smiled, holding her waist and pushing down and increasing the friction being created.

"Michael, is anyone going to walk in here?" She whispered, licking his ear.

"Doubt it...they are afraid of their boss..." Moaning and trying to catch her tongue with his.

"Who is..." she laughed for his tongue was now traveling to her chest.

"Me of course..." continuing his assault.

"Professor, cut it out, tell me more about the...hmmm...grapes." She said, stumbling through the words.

"Mmm, let's see...The red wine grape that is almost always used for the base of the wine is the Cabernet Sauvignon, mostly blended with Merlot and to degrees with Cabernet Franc, Malbec and Petite Verdot. We are the most famous Sub Region -The Haut Medoc which is further divided into South to North and it is mainly Cabernet Sauvignon based wines with some Merlot.

Michael lay now on the couch, Nikita above him - hip to hip, toe to toe, head to head. Her arms were folded on his chest and her face rested on her plait hands. She listened attentively and nodded appropriately. She was enjoying Michael’s explanations.

“Let’s go for a ride.” Michael said, kissing the tip of her nose and walking out. They got on a Jeep and went for a personal tour of the area.

After driving along the famous Quai des Chartrons, where that area’s wine making was born, Michael gave Nikita a tour of the Médoc driving north on Route D2. This road known as the Médoc wine road went north on Blanquefort between the Gironde Estuary and the Landes Forest. Nikita was overwhelmed, everywhere she looked she saw the magnificent views of vine-covered gravelly rises.

“Michael this is majestic…and all yours?” She asked her cerulean eyes about to pop out of their sockets.

“Ours.” He corrected. “Not all, most of it though…wherever you see a fanatically orderly and well-kept vineyard it is ours.”

“Michael, this Guide says that this region’s communes with its world-famous châteaux produce legendary wines.” She read of a pamphlet she had picked up at a road-side kiosk where Michael had stopped to say hello.

“Give me that?” He said laughing.

“No…” She slapped his hand, a sexy little slap that brought the most astonishingly sensual grin to Michael’s mouth.

“I wrote that Kita, you don’t need to read it, hell…I’ll recite it. Soon enough we’ll see the photographs that you possed for on the cover of that publication.” Michael said.

“Michael, Hillinger said he needed to take more.” Nikita leaned over and kissed him hard.

“I know baby…if you want…” He shifted and then padded her lap and stopped the Jeep next to a hilly slope. The got off the car, he walked around to where she now stood.

Nikita’s sandal covered feet felt a mix of gravel, pebbles and sand underneath her feet. She kicked the soil and looked at Michael quizzically, asking “How can this ground give such incredible grapes?”

“Poor soil makes for great wealth Kita.” He said, walking away from the car and playing with her enormous ring, as to illustrate his point.

“Where is there water?” Nikita asked “Don’t you need water to grow a plant?”

“Vines sometimes need to dig their roots more than 50 ft. to find water.” He told her bending down and grabbing some dirt, holding her hands and passing it to her. Around the bend Nikita and Michael faced a wooden edifice, the cool, dark cellar contained recent vintages of Médoc and they stood by a table, while an obvious local served them a sample.

The man chatted amicably with Michael who translated the man’s conversation to Nikita. “This wine cellar is called a chais. The Cabernet Sauvignon grape gives the tannin and aging to the wine; the other two grapes add the fruity, spicy aroma and softness. All these neat rows of oak barrels berth the wine while it develops exceptionally smooth tannin and aromatic complexities. And because only great wines requires extensive aging - extensively age the wine.” At that remark Nikita laughed.

Kissing the weathered cheek of the man, Nikita and Michael went back to the car. She was happy perhaps, Michael thought, his life’s blood - the magnificent red wine may have been the cause. After a stop at the Maison du Vin in Saint-Estèphe so Michael could speak with its Director, they continued to the Pointe de Grave along a wine road studded with crus, bourgeois and cooperative cellars. Michael was greeted with reverence, friendship and respect at every stop on the way.

To say Michael’s large estate of the grand châteaux was impressive, majestic and royal would be simplifying the obvious. If the Bordeaux region's main attraction is the vineyards that surround the city, then Michael’s home - the actual building is a wet dream to anyone who longs for wealth and elegance. Nikita had vocally marveled at the beauty of the varied landscapes, from the gravelly rises to the low-lying hills, to the slopes. Michael and his family lived in a true wine peninsula.

Now Nikita stood at yet another chais and with a glass of the red wine in his hand another local explained, in broken English, how the Châteaux Saint-Mishel’s wine is a delicate and elegant, refined bouquet wine with a magnificent ruby color “Shust laik ure rrring madame.” Nikita smiled.

Again in the car the blonde stood up while Michael drove. She was free, wild and her magnificent hair blew in the wind like wings on an angel. The region was lovely full of green hills, winding country roads, valleys and small river ports, she could see in the distance. “What a wonderful place to have grown-up”.

“I didn’t grow-up here Kita…remember my mother moved to London and married Paul. I came here after University, when my father’s parents died and I inherited it all.” He sadly said.

They stopped in a slope vineyard with clay soil, a lot of sunlight soaked the area. “I am sorry Michael…forgive me.”

Michael smiled, “Ah Kita, I wish life could be pain free for you…your light does not allow you see this side of reality. They had moved and were now on the banks of the Garonne River, Nikita’s golden tresses matching the sun's rays.

She smiled, and proving his point “Michael what is that?”

“A historic monuments - the Château de Cadillac long ago the home of the powerful Dukes of Epernon.” He said skipping a pebble on the river water.

“More powerful than you?” She asked holding him to her.

He laughed, “I Ni-ki-ta am Superman.” Kissing her long, wet and hard as they started back to their Château and the sun started down.

//////

Michael had never discussed with Nikita his previous love life. She didn’t want to know; the past was past she would tell him. She didn’t want to know - yet. Michael was a bit nervous as they dressed for the party. Their first night in Bordeaux and already the tests of Michael’s patience had started.

She wore a strapless black taffeta dress that had an overlay of Chantilly antique lace. The shoulders and forearms wore a wisp of the lacey material; the chemise’s skirt finished mid-knee, the lace continuing for about an inch. She wore a ruby choker that Michael had taken out of a vault imbedded in their room’s wardrobe and a pair of matching ruby dangly earrings. He had told her the jewelry belonged to his mother, now it was hers.

Michael wore Georgio Armani black - head to toe, magnificent in its understated elegance. Nikita looked positively ravishing and she turned to smile at Michael who matched her perfectly - two figurines from a Lladro porcelain sculpture.

Michael and Nikita decked out in their most elegant finery were now being driven to a Château in Côtes de Vacek appellation. A small enclave of structures that used to be a citadel and which guarded over ‘Little Switzerland’ as the area was known because of its many hills. It laid near the River Garonne and the River Dordogne as it did during the reign of Richard the Lionharted one of the vineyard’s original owners.

Michael shifted uneasy in the automobile as they traveled the short distance down the entrance to the Château. He let out a long breath and turned to the woman who was quizzically looking at him. “Kita,” holding her hands in both of his. “This is the home of the woman…I was engaged to married - E-le-na Vacek.”

“Elena?” Nikita said, looked down, smiled evilly and continued, “would you describe her as a feather weight a welter weight?”

Michael looked at her confused…”Kita, our engagement was…”

“Michael, I don’t care, don’t tell me. You are with me now…someday we’ll talk about your ‘women’. Right now, I am wearing the rock, sleeping with the rod and enjoying your love…and unless she can beat me up, I have nothing to fear. I love you.” The blonde calmly stated.

“I love you Kita.” He again breathed hard and kissed her. “Watch out for her right.” And smiled as the car came to a halt.

One could tell the appellation was undergoing a renaissance; the walled compound included a Romanesque church and rock cellars dating from the English period. Sallah Vacek, a widow, stood in the reception line alongside his daughter and someone that made Michael chuckled softly - Ivan Petrocian. Nikita, even though she didn’t know these people could certainly appreciate the personalities, diversity and conviviality of the three characters cordially offering salutations to their guests.

As the couple moved closer to the trio Nikita looked around at the magnificent, obviously ancient stone building carved out of solid rock. This region, Michael had told her, was rich in history. The summer solstice was celebrated annually and included hundred of floating lights on the River Dordogne which could be seen across the opened floor-to-ceiling windows and doors on the other side of the room.

Michael looked at his fiancé and smiled, the woman would do just fine in his world. Even though Michael was respected and loved, this was obviously a difficult situation to be in. Not only was this his business rival’s home, but the 13th century walls and surrounding moat dug out of solid rock belonged to Elena, a woman Michael had left at the proverbial ‘altar. The woman was outstandingly beautiful with an insatiable sexual appetite - and yet Michael thought Nikita was even more beautiful and her sexual appetite was more to Michael’s liking. Nikita made Michael cum by nothing more involved than shimming in and out of panty hose.

Nikita examined the beautiful woman and the strong bald Russian beside her and whispered, “Michael, did she get a ring from you?”

“Yes, a diamond, I got it back why?” He softly answered waiting his turn to greet his hosts.

“She is wearing a large ruby in her left ring finger. I think she married Mr. Clean over there." Nikita continued.

Michael let out loud laughs that surprised even him. He kissed her head and said, “That would be grand.”

“You are going to have to tell me why that would be grand.” She answered softly.

“Later” he said as they finally arrived at their hosts’ side.

“Michael” Vacek greeted the handsome man with a bear hug and a back slap. Before Michael could speak Elena rushed him by hugging him fiercely and boldly kissing his mouth. “I married Ivan, we eloped last week.” She told him, blushing and showing her ring.

“Mazeltov” Michael told her, knowing how Hebrew grated on his former father-in-law’s nerves. “Ivan you are indeed a lucky man.” Shaking his hand and offering her another hug, which she again followed by a deep kiss that Michael broke abruptly. The entire room had stopped and was watching the exchange.

“Sallah, Elena, Ivan this is Nikita…” Before Michael could finish Elena grabbed the blonde’s ring finger and looking at the ruby stated.

“My my…Nikita is it?… Well, the famed ‘mommy’ ring - this one must be keeper Michael.” Total disconcerting hatred pouring out of her well-painted lips.

Michael ignoring her, Nikita amused smile on her face, “Nikita is my wife…we will be taking our vows again as soon as Lady Adrian can plan the ceremony, you know her…”

Nikita saccharine sweet, so much so she was sure the entire room of about 300 got instantaneous cavities, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Congratulations on your marriage. I hope you are as happy as we are.”

Michael stated, kissing Elena’s hand before she finally released his, “We’ll talk later. Again congratulations.”

If Nikita had been surprised by Michael’s lie about their marriage, she did not let on. She understood Michael had to deal with this situation as he saw fit. And honestly she could care less what Elena thought…the bitch was obviously jealous, she was the color of her world-famous Merlot. The couple moved on to let the rest of the reception line follow.

“Michael?” Nikita questioned him as he kissed her lips, let out a breath and guided her into the room while grabbing a glass of the rich wine and downing it in one gulp.

“Didn’t want to hear the remarks to follow Kita. A wife gets more respect…you would have heard about all the women, all the broken promises…but you saw - none ever got the ‘ring’.

“I did get the ring though - and the guy. I guess you love me, hah? Who cares Michael, let the fun continue.”

---

There was a thousand years of wine growing in this area - Vacek had been around a relatively short while. Acquiring the property in some sort of ‘foreclosure’ two years before; the man had a shady past and a shadier lifestyle. The ruins of the ancient castle on his property had started to be demolished by the foolish man before the international community had taken legal action to stop him

Because wine growing here indeed went back a thousand years, the area’s history was as important as the wines themselves. Whatever level of wine knowledge, tastes or whims, one had - tearing down a historical monument such as the castle was a foupa no one would want to take credit for.

Michael was standing with a group of Bordeaux vintners heatedly discussing the process of selecting and vinifying the different grape varieties that eventually get blended into the final wine. Vacek who had now joined the group with his new son-in-law, was jokingly trying to learn the different vintner's secret recipe by offering indecent amounts of money to them. They all politely declined, for they knew that Michael would not allow anymore of their vineyards to fall into Vacek’s little claws. The man slowly turned excellent wine into rut gut swill.

Elena had cornered Nikita, who Michael watched intensely from afar and was questioning her about her relationship with Michael and filling her head with lies. Were had they met, how they had met, when they had become intimate, married, etc. etc. But most importantly when had the blonde gotten the ring. Elena further asked Nikita if she was a true blonde, for the man usually liked brunettes.

“Look at me, Lisa over there, Andrea on that side, on and on my dear. And of course, let us not forget Simone.” Elena witch that she was, spewed.

“Let’s not…” Nikita said, not showing her ignorance on the subject, or her desire to pummel the petite brunette.

Then Andrea joined the conversation, as well as Lisa, David Fanning’s wife. Mr. Muscular David Fanning held on to his wife with a deathly grip. Michael across the room rolled his eyes at Nikita, willing her to be strong. He knew the punishment she was about to endure was more painful than being shocked by a live wire while dangling from a hoist and being wetted by a hose. He could hear her laughing, telling their incredible story while adding over and over - “you guys know Michael -isn’t he great - can you believe this ring.”

Lisa, who surprisingly turned out to be the most pleasant of the Macbeth witches finally said and signaled Michael over, wanting for the poor blonde to find repose. “After Michael takes you to visit the other vineyards tell him to take you to the colorful gardens, the medieval museums, the casinos, the beaches and riverboat excursions. The truth - you’ll never be bored among us, and if you wish I’d take you around, we could go to the music festival. Michael is always so busy.”

Michael joined the group. “I am never busy for Kita, thanks Lisa great suggestions - Ladies, excuse us.” Loudly he told Nikita, passionately kissing her for all to see, come, have I told you about the castle ruins…you won’t believe what some idiot did, poor Sallah had to pay the price of some underlings stupidity.” Thick sarcastic voice.

/////

The handsome couple strolled in the gardens of the Château in Côtes de Vacek. The party in all its splendor had been going on for hours. The dinner had been served an hour after Michael and Nikita had arrived. Although Nikita had not minded the rough beginning, Michael had stayed by her side - closer than David to Lisa.

The blonde now held Michael’s hand as they walked in the garden’s directly adjacent to the River were thousands of lit candles floated. She was resting her head on his shoulder and his other hand had snaked around her waist and held her tightly to his hip.

“Michael, tell me about the…” Michael interrupted and thinking she wanted to hear about his relationship with Elena said.

“Kita if you don’t mind, can we talk about this at home?”

She stopped, pulled him to a stone bench and sat. Michael preferred to stand and folding his hands in front of his body he did so next to the sitting woman, who was taking a pebble out of her sling back red and black pumps. He patiently waited for her to finish.

“You didn’t let me finish, did you?” She said - he nodded. “I wanted to know about the process of getting the juice out of the grapes. I picture an ‘I Love Lucy’ episode.

Michael laughed and said “I see - they use that system only in Italy. Here at harvest time the grape clusters are handpicked, destemed by machine that gently crushes the grapes releasing the juice or must. Then the skins and the must are transferred to fermentation bats. I’m sorry Kita, sometimes I think that you and I share a brain, so that you are thinking what I am thinking.”

She smiled, stood and bit his lower lip, “Can you tell what I am thinking?”

“Yeah but we’ll have to wait ‘till we get home.” Michael said, laughed and took her hand walking her back into the ballroom.

“Michael, when do they add the alcohol?” She asked, pulling him to the dance floor, a slow ballad being played by the band.

“The grape skins have natural yeast which convert the grape sugar into alcohol. This 5 to 10 days of fermentation takes place until there is no sugar remaining and the wine is to complete dryness.” He said as they engulfed each other in their arms.

“Tell me more.” She said.

“Not now. Let’s dance.” She moved her arms around his neck, bodies flushed against each others’. He had his arms around her waist. They moved in unison and in perfect tune with the sexy music playing.

Michael was saying, “You have got to be the sexiest woman I know. A big group of women I’ve dated are in this room. I have known must of them for a very long time. None of them were able to make me commit, make me love them, make me want them…”

She smiled “Make you stop breathing?” She kissed him hard. The tongues stroking each other with devotion and grace. Nikita immediately felt Michael harden, felt her privates get wet.

Their eyes were shuddered, their breathing labored, their mouths touching, as well as their hips. Michael had taken to scratching her waist, her thigh, while kissing her bare shoulders. She was moaning and Michael smiled.

“No other woman ever made me so hot that I want to commit a social indiscretion by taking her in public. I think we should…go.” Michael said.

“Michael, do you mind if I dance with your lovely wife?” Vacek asked.

Michael actually wanted to say ’Fuck off’ to the man, but politely looked at the sexed up Nikita and bowed. Vacek started dancing with the blonde, who was pissed at Michael…he would pay she thought.

When Michael turned to move out of the dance floor, he stood face to face with Andrea. A woman Michael had dated a couple of times, bedded once and almost had to remove her from his life with the use of a restraining order. Obsessed, even now, she asked Michael to dance. He agreed, and instantly regretted his decision when she licked his ear as they started to dance.

“What are you doing Andrea?” He asked.

“Have you missed me?” She asked.

“Andrea I am a married man, my wife is over there, what are you doing?” He asked again.

“I will be your shadow Michael. I know you still love me, this ruse with the blonde is so you could break up with Lisa without arousing her suspicion about our relationship.”

“Enough Andrea, get some help.” He left the woman standing and walked over to Nikita as the song ended.

“Sallah it has been a pleasure, but we must get back home. I am waiting for a call from my stepfather who is out of London in a convention…Will call you tomorrow.” And he shook his hand.

Sallah kissed Nikita on both cheeks and said “You are a beauty, Michael is a lucky man.”

The couple walked hand in hand, thanking people and saying their good-byes. They got in the car that would take them home and Nikita immediately began her questions.

“So what is Sallah doing here, who is he, who is this son-in-law, what is up with your engagement to this woman, who is Andrea, why is their wine bad. Now Michael spill it.”

Michael laughed kissed her and took a deep breath, braising himself “We suspect that Vacek is the head of a Russian Mafia family…”

“Who is we?” She asked.

“La Securite de l’etat.” He answered.

“Who are they? She asked.

“I am part of them Kita; I am … a secret agent.” He said, very seriously.

She started to laugh. Knee slapping side splitting, mad giggling laughter. Tears rolling down her face. And Michael watched, serious like a heart attack, not saying a word, just waiting for her to stop her tittering.

“Are you finished?” He asked her, holding her shoulder and looking her straight in the eyes.

“Michael?” She raised both eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

“Yes Kita…please listen. Wine is France’s most important export, we will do whatever it takes to protect our wine. About 4 years ago I was approached. Very dramatic, the government people kidnapped me, kept me incommunicado…you can never repeat any of this. Do I have your word?”

“God Michael, you are serious aren’t you.” She said.

“Do I have your word?” His mask securely in place, not a trace of love or devotion, scaring her to death and she told him so.

“Michael you are scaring me…Yes I swear I will never repeat any of this.” She answered.

“Kita…don’t be afraid. I told you I would never let anything hurt you.” His mask became detached and he kissed her, continuing. “The Russian criminal elements started exporting their organized crime families. And to this Country they sent Sallah Vacek. I allowed him to buy a property, too complicated to explain now, the vineyard we were just at. I got engaged to Elena, I was going to marry her if necessary, all to get near the family. Ivan Petrosian is my Russian counterpart. It’s even better that he married her, he was sent in…the Russians feeling he would be better as her husband…thank God.” He said.

“Wow…my dreams…Oh God no, are you with me so Elena…” She cried.

He again kissed her and sat her on his lap, stroking her eyebrow with his thumb he continued. “Kita no, I told them to find another way - I was in love. It is very dangerous. I must make all kinds of sacrifices and I am afraid, now so will you.”

“Me Michael? What do I…” He interrupted.

“Kita, remember Rene Dion? Well Rene is our man in the US, he checked you out.”

She was angry, “He what?” Enraged was more the word.

“I had nothing to do with this. When he saw how quickly I fell for you, he suspected foul play, after all your name is Russian. So he checked you out and…Kita how much do you know about Madelyn?”

/////

Nikita was anxious, in shock, lost in a vacuum of cluelessnes. She looked at Michael and took a deep-deep breath, and quickly let it out…shook her head and said, “Ok, so - ehh - are you really Lord Michael?

“Yes Kita, the title comes from Lady Adrian’s side of the family - The George family.”

“God, George is the head of the bordello in my recurring dream.” She said.

Michael laughed, “Bordello? One of these days you are going to have to tell me about this dream.” He kissed her and sighed.

“For all of my adult life.” She said.

“Pardon? He questioned.

“That is how long I have known Madelyn, for all of my adult life. Please, don’t tell me she is also a spy.” Nikita replied.

“I am not a spy Kita. I am more like…James Bond. ‘Stirred not shaken’.” He told her smiling.

“Is she like - whatever you are?” She asked again.

“No, but she was a Playboy centerfold in 1982. Completely exposed.” He said smiling.

“Oh God, no…” Nikita laughed hard. “Any more surprises Michael?”

“Many more, but I don’t think I’ll hit you with much more tonight.”

“Oh no you don’t…you don’t weave this incredible mental picture and leave me hanging…”

“Do you always mix your metaphors?”

“Michael - I want the information now!” she asked tickling him, trying to make light of a potential conflict. “Does Paul know?”

“No to both. Neither about my conflicted life, nor about Madelyn. And in operative lingo it is call ‘Intel”.”

“Why?”

“Because it is intelligence…”

She interrupted, “And you are who France is putting their hopes on?” Laughing, “I meant why haven’t you told your father - err my father - about any of this.

“Because if I tell him about my life, he will want to get involved. Same with Walter. And I believe that Madelyn should be the one to tell him about her youthful indiscretions.”

“How were the photos?”

“I never saw them, Rene told me about them…supposedly beautiful. The thought of my father’s wife looking beautiful to me, kinda…”

She interrupted “Icchy?”

“Well put Kita.” He kissed her and got a forlornned look and added. “My father had been in Vietnam even after the French left and the Americans’ arrived. He was there as an advisor. He was really an Operative of the Securite. Many years later, they used the argument that I should take over where my father left off…and I agreed with them. He died when I was very young Kita, he left no memories, so this…and serving my country.”

“Michael, I love you…Your father would be proud.” And kissed his hands.

“When we get home we’ll make love and then we’ll walk in the garden and I’ll tell you as much as you want to know.”

She interrupted again singing “Secret Agent Man…” They both laughed and kissed again.

///

The conversation in the car had gone back and forth; the couple had plenty of issues to deal with; plenty of problems to resolve; plenty of conversations to be had. Michael was apprehensive for his confession had changed Nikita’s life forever. He had been advised by his superiors to recruit the blonde, or loose her forever. And loosing her was not an option he was going to accept.

Life had been tough for the beauty that now thoughtfully rested her head on his shoulder. And then when life was looking up, destiny knocked on the door. So she had accepted without much hoopla Michael’s secret life. She had not balked at Rene’s incursion on her privacy. She had basically allowed Paul’s paternity claims.

Heck she’d even understood Michael’s engagement to Elena. Michael wondered how much more she would be able to take. And there was so much more she needed to endure. Michael’s famous control was unraveling and he knew he had to get a grip.

“There is more, isn’t it?” The blonde said without picking up her head.

“Why do you say that?” Michael asked holding her hand and playing with her fingers.

“I feel it…in your stance; Michael are you going to leave me?” Calmly.

“Kita, why would you think that?” Concerned.

“Because if you are planning to leave me I don’t think I could go on; otherwise…” She picked up her head, held Michael’s chin, eyes interlocked, hers navy blue. “I can accept anything that comes my way…as long as I have you…”

“I love you Kita.” Michael said kissing her deeply, long, wet, tongue caressing tongue. They disengaged when they felt the car come to a halt.

---

Michael entered his incredible home and dragged Nikita along with him. She was numb. The fact that she was not sure who knew about Michael or who was part of this secret world mortified her. And worse yet, what was her role in this bizarre situation.

She allowed herself to be dragged down a corridor to a lanai she had not seen before, her shoes in her hands as she walked on the stone floor in her stocking feet. She instinctively stopped as Michael pushed a wall sconce and a door opened to another colonnade. She was spellbound by the cloak and dagger routine of the room within a room.

“Where are Robin and Batgirl?” She softly asked and he let out a loud laugh, not saying a word.

The hallway opened unto a room containing an elevator. The contrast of the ancient stone walls of the Chateau and the modern contraption amused Nikita. She wondered who had put this here and as if by magic Michael said.

“The Chateau has been here for hundreds of years, this addition was put in by my father and then modernized by me.” They entered a very large room with reinforced metal walls and communication devices displayed throughout. There were a few Agents at the different stations, all polite, respectful and friendly towards Michael.

Michael approached the agents, discussed whatever in hushed tones and moved on to a staircase that took them up to a glass walled room above the room they’d occupied earlier. He took a remote control and darkened the windows.

“Ni-ki-ta come here” All of a sudden a chill took over Nikita’s body, Michael’s face was blank, no feelings, no emotions - Nikita didn’t even see his soul.

She moved slowly, sad face, looking for a flicker of love in his now steel gray eyes.

“Before Russia came out from behind the Iron Curtain, the ability to gain personal wealth and privilege - including food and clothing, came from stealing from the State. So the control of goods and services unlawfully redirected from the government actualized an expansive conglomerate of bribery and corruption within the Politburo. Remember in Communism there was no private industry so these enterprises were formed in the underground. Coercion and violence were the cost of doing business and the dividing line between the East and West.”

She was listening intently, her hips resting on his desk. Michael standing or walking around the room, his eyes not meeting hers. She wondered what term was used for this ‘lesson’.

“Underground millionaires existed even during the Communist regime, but usually the members of the ruling elite were the underground businessmen, or their praetorian associates. In Minsk there was a Minister of Industry by the name of Sallah Vacek, ruthless, feared and very connected. He bribed and blackmailed his way into becoming the king of the newly-rich entrepreneurial class. All of a sudden this criminal was a legitimate businessman.”

Michael was stroking his lip and deep in thought continued. “The newly elected Russian government was loosing control and asked their resent allays to help them with a situation that threatened their already weak economic system. And then these entrepreneurs, under Vacek’s rule, exported their terror-laden businesses; France and the wine trade got Vacek. He needs to destabilize the French currency and our wine industry is the perfect tool.”

Nikita simply stated, “You have to stop him Michael.”

Michael smiled, pulled her to him and said. “Kita, you are going to be asked to help me. The powers that be have advised me that you are to be recruited just because I fell in love with you. Do you understand what I have done? I have dragged you into this…it is my duty to my country and to my father’s memory, but you…”

“Michael part of loving someone is to support them, to stand by them…oh and shall I forget to have sex with them…so do not under any circumstance underestimate my love for you. You are a part of me now and the spy of my dreams never let me down.”

“Kita” he said holding her, the mask melting…”let’s go home.”

///

The handsome couple sat in the hot tub. The stone wall surrounding the pool area blocked out the rest of the compound from the naked lovers. The warm aroma of the night jasmine imbibed their senses and soothed their dented souls. Nikita was nestled in Michael’s legs and arms, her back resting on his taut chest. There were candles providing the only light and the CD played cello music Michael had recorded at Nikita’s request. They were relaxing, a glass of Michael’s California Red resting on the cedar shelf enclosing the whirlpool.

The water temperature was hot and Michael decided to make it cooler, earning a reprimand from Nikita, who asked him to instead open more of the air vents and increase the bubbles. He did as she asked and returned to the comfort of Nikita’s body.

She turned facing him, her legs floating behind her and said, “Tell me about Simone?”

Michael pulled her back to the sitting position, he preferred not to have to see Nikita’s castigating gaze when he told her of the most painful period of his life. Michael had never forgiven his part in the tragic demise of the Vietnamese beauty.

“What do you want to know?” He asked, absent mindlessly stroking her head.

“Who was she Michael…Elena mentioned her tonight.”

“Simone was my wife.” Michael answered so softly Nikita almost didn’t hear him.

“You’ve been married before?” Nikita questioned.

“Well…I loved Simone, she was my first ‘love’. Simone and I were never really married, it was a ‘mission marriage’...”

“You mean Simone was an…agent?”

“Yes, Simone was my partner, she helped train me.” Michael continued stroking Nikita’s hair. “She was assigned to ‘marry’ me right after I finished training and just before the Vacek’s finished acquiring the vineyard. She seduced me, made me trust her, fall in love with her and then…I found out she had done all this as part of a mission.”

“What mission?” Nikita asked.

“It seemed that their Psyche profile on me showed that I needed someone to protect, someone to align myself to and someone to owe total loyalty to - so they put together a sym and the results gave them Simone. It wasn’t until after she died, that I found out about the mission.”

“How did she die?”

Michael let out a strangled cry, the pain clearly visible. “They made me think she was dead for 2 years, she had been reassigned though. Then she contacted my Grandfather Walter as he was opening another office of the Jones Clinic in San Francisco California - Section 3. She sent me a message explaining what the Mission had been, apologizing. I demanded to know where she was…by then Vacek’s men in the US had killed her. I would have done anything they wanted, forgiven anything she did.”

“Perhaps they lied to you again, maybe she…”

“No Kita, they allowed me to bury her on the grounds, next to my parents and the rest of my family.” Michael then wept openly.

“I am sorry Michael.” She softly told him, got out of the whirlpool pulling him along.

The lovers moved to the pool, with its beautiful waterfall. They stood underneath the cascading water holding each other - kissing. Their lips touching incessantly, his tongue licking the drops covering her skin. They continued kissing - lips against lips, tongues against tongues and lips; interminable pleasure gladly shared.

Nikita didn’t know how to react, how to sooth Michael’s grief. She could feel his agony; she was walking the gauntlet that was his pain. So she decided right there, in the protection of Michael’s arms that she would lessen his pain somehow…and that they would live happily ever after.

“What are you thinking” he asked stroking her eyebrow with his thumb. “You are far…”

“Michael, I am sorry you have been hurt. I am here now…” The blonde said, tears edging her eyes.

“Kita” kissing her lips softly, “I loved Simone and mourned her loss. And then, when I met you I understood that more than love, my feelings for her were confused, were obviously contrived, manipulated and …perhaps it was not even love. At least not the love I feel for you.”

She didn’t say a word, his eyes verifying his obvious remorse - for the pain he caused Simone, for the pain he caused Nikita and for the pain he even caused himself. Mossy green gaze lingering on her candy pink lips. He smiled a melancholy one and finally made his move.

Their wet naked bodies moved from the pool to the patio floor next to the open fireplace. He laid her on a bath sheet softly; her head nestled in his folded arms. Her sky blue eyes reflecting the need and the want she felt. The blanket of stars watching their union.

He whispered “Whatever will happen, we’ll be able to handle together. I love you Nikita…let’s take what we can…”

He quickly entered her, no foreplay other than the promise of his words. His movements steady, deep, moving as one. He flipped them over so he would be beneath her; she sat on his rigidity and with the same focus she rode him. He moved one hand to her breasts, wetting his fingers in her gasping mouth and then stroking her hardened nipples with his moist fingers.

His other hand busy seeking her rigid pistil flowering before him. He was half out of his mind with desire for this woman; half out of his mind with carnality that seeked pleasure in this woman’s caress. And as they did every time they made love, the paramours came simultaneously with a pleasure only known to those who truly love. Michael carried his spent Nikita to their bed … for sure Nikita’s dream spy had a face and a name.

///

The sun streamed relentlessly through the open floor-to-ceiling windows and balcony doors. The ornate carved wood glistened, the ancient artisan opus demonstrated and the perfection of the scenery displayed. The room’s stone walls dramatically evinced formidable priceless object d’art. The obvious splendor of wealth evident throughout this room and the rest of the chateau and the blonde beauty slowly came out of her slumber.

The billowy sheer drapes danced in the refreshing summer breeze. Nikita stretched in bed, her legs haphazardly wrapped around the top sheet and her naked torso revealing goose bumps from the very cold temperature of the air conditioning. Her eyes perfectly matching the summer sky outside the bedroom window. Her sensuous arms stretching and mouth forming a perfect yawn.

Nikita sat up with her back to the plush headboard and rested on it looking around for Michael. She passed her hand through the wild mane of hair that gloriously topped her head. She pulled the sheet to cover her breasts and called out his name. She missed the warmth of his embrace and wanted to kiss him ‘good morning.’

Michael appeared with his exquisite bare-chest exposed. The draw string silk navy blue pajama bottoms he wore not even trying to cover his perfectly muscled legs. His emerald green eyes reflecting the joie de vie he always felt when looking at the woman who warmed his heart and gratefully his bed.

He held a cell phone to his ear attentively listening to the party on the other end, but his eyes were on Nikita. He walked designedly towards the blonde woman whose bright smile drew him to her and knelt a leg to the mattress. He bent and kissed her softly, his cell phone still to his ear and mouth.

He was obviously listening to someone on the other end of the conversation; he looked at Nikita, smiled and mouthed “Good Morning my love.”

Now he continued with his phone conversation in French, as he walked away, pointing to a table with a silver tea service for two. “Qui sont-elles? Ahh, un groupe d'éclat de Cellule Rouge, ce qui sont là exige?

The caller answered and Michael repeated, “Ils veulent que nous nous rendiez?”

He nodded responded ‘Oui’ a couple of times more and bid his caller good-bye. Turning to Nikita said, “This is our breakfast, I took the liberty of ordering it, given your history of eating lightly in the morning. I love you, good morning.”

“Good morning, love you too. What did you order?” She took a pink silk robe from a chair and walked to the table. “Mmm croissants and home made jam. What is this fruit Michael?” Turning to him and kissing him hard.

“Mamey” he answered, “A tropical fruit I have growing in a nursery in the back of the house, I’ll show you later. It comes from the Caribbean, you’ll love it…” He answered sitting across from the blonde and serving himself more coffee in the dainty china cup he held in his strong hands.

“Do you want to work out with me?” He asked her putting down the newspaper he had obviously been reading before starting his phone conversation.

“That would be fun. But after I want to go for a jog, would you join me?” She said and not waiting for a response, put down the spoon she was using to eat the ripe coral fleshy fruit with its patent leather pit and commented, “Delicious.” And carrying her cup to the balcony, he followed.

Michael stood behind Nikita drawing her to him with one strong arm around her waist. From their position they could see the vineyards, the horse stables and the river and Nikita remarked how spectacular the view was.

“It is more spectacular since you became part of it” Michael stated kissing her ear and sliding his tongue down to her neck.

“Michael,” she said turning to face him, bodies flushed against each other, both his arms now encircled her and he rested his forehead on hers. “I didn’t dream last night, do you know what that means?”

“No” he kissed her thoroughly again.

“That I feel secure with you. No matter what the problems are, you palliate my fears…” She said smiling and playing with the bottom lip that always fascinated her so and wiggling her cute behind while moving his hands to her butt.

“Hmm, Kita I can’t get distracted I have a call to make…you can listen if you want.” He said.

“A call - is it…” lowering her voice but not leaving the cocoon of his arms “spy stuff?”

“Agency stuff Kita I am not a spy…” He smiled, and squeezed her even closer, “and I had that call already this morning; the one I am talking about is to Paul.”

“Sorry…I don’t want to talk to him, but if Maddy is around - I want to ask her about her Playboy days, that should be interesting.” The blonde cupped his hands on her butt and moved them to her breasts.

“Mmm Kita can we ‘play’ first?” He raised both his eyebrows and gave her a wicked smile, his eyes dancing with the joy this woman brought; and his manhood at the ready.

“I thought…” she didn’t finished her thought Michael had lifted her in his arms and carried her inside ripping the silk robe off the body he was savoring as he walked. He threw her on the bed and quickly moved to her awaiting apex, his mouth zealous to create havoc to her overly drenched femininity. And to Nikita there was no time like the present.

“I read”, she was telling him in gasps, “that if you want your…” she swallowed her words, forgetting her train of thought as the master of her universe drove home his silent point…licking her sensuality, she tumbled magically down the rabbit hole.

Michael then moved to her mouth. He wanted her to enjoy the taste of amber that gave them both so much passion filled moments. Then he flipped her and laid her on her side; then lying next to her entered her from behind. He was loving her with the same devotion as he had used when bringing her fulfillment a few minutes before. And then he smiled as he felt her shudder a release as monumental as the one he had brought with his mouth.

He then flipped her over again and she stopped him when he went to enter her one more time. “It is my turn Michael…” as she rapidly pushed him to a lying position and grabbed his sex and commenced her worshiping with her mouth.

She had total control of the desperate man and his eyes were fixed on her form. She deftly gave him head and he tumbled down the passion filled moment, dragging her along by the sheer power of his ‘cum’. He finally closed his eyes, held her cum filled mouth to his member and thanked her in French, Spanish, English and some Arabic language she couldn’t identify.

And finally as the moments passed and the lovers came down from the pinnacle of ecstasy she said, “Now…Good Morning my love, let us start the day right.” And they did.

/////

The morning ablutions finished. Ahhh their morning ablutions made a grown-up weep with envy. It went like this: have sex while Michael is still asleep; then wake up in each others’ arms; have sex; talk a bit-preferably about sex; have breakfast; have sex; exercise; have sex; shower while having sex. And if it doesn’t happen that way, well….it should - the blonde laughed.

Nikita decided Michael could be wearing a sac and he would look impeccable. She was concentrating on his poured-on blue jeans - faded around his manhood and thighs, and let out an audible sigh. He was fervent, scalding, piquant and made her oh so hot. Nikita was having all kinds of nutty thoughts when he turned his bottle green orbs in her direction.

Giving a quirky smile he asked “Oui?” While tucking in his soft worn navy blue tee shirt. His perfectly developed pecks clearly outlined through the comfortable knit.

“I was just thinking that you are an elegant dude, that you would probably look good wearing mostly anything. But then I changed my mind - you probably are at your best while wearing nothing.” She winked at him as she finished putting her hair in a ponytail.

He held her hand and kissed it as he tried to walk out of the room. “I will wait for you in the library. Going to make that call to Paul.”

“Wait, I am almost ready…” She hurried and put on her hiking boots. “Could you show me the cemetery Michael…I mean…” Shyly.

“If you want.” He said sitting his wonderful butt on the arm of a plush chair. “Are you trying to stop the call to Paul? You know if you don’t want me to call I won’t.”

“Nonsense, go make the call, I’ll be right there.” She said, “But I am not talking with him.”

“I’ll wait for you.” He said picking up the abandoned newspaper.

-------

Walking up the little hill holding hands with Michael, Nikita could see a small white building, a white picket fence and headstones. Michael was telling her the reason his ancestors had chosen this particular hill to use as a family burial plot. Nikita, who was always fascinated by Michael’s accented soft tone, listened intently.

The view from the hilltop was an absolutely breathtaking sight. The soft wind made the visit enjoyable. The history, Michael’s history, mesmerizing and awe-inspiring to anyone, but especially to Nikita. He was one tombstone at a time making her part of his story, of his roots.

Michael’s mother was buried in a plot next to his father. The beautiful white marble headstone and angel statue stood guard over the memory of his parents. Michael was of the believe that their earthly bodies were long gone and their soul had risen… His Catholic upbringing was filling him with the comforting hoopla of the religious experience. They next moved to Simone’s grave.

All of a sudden Michael felt uncomfortable. His mask in place, his now steely gray eyes darting around, trying to see what made his short hairs rise. He came close to the blonde and inconspicuously put an arm around her, whispering “Kita trust me, just do what I say…”

Nikita’s mind still in the gutter, she debated how she was going to follow Michael’s urges while in front of his dead ‘wife’ grave. Ugh, just too kinky - even for her. When she turned to look at him, he was completely in robot mode - his eyes almost the color of ashes, including the red specs of fire.

Approaching from nowhere four black clad men wore sunglasses - walking among them a slightly chubby elderly man wearing a trench coat and dark glasses. The blonde, her hand over her eyebrows to cover the glaring sun, smiled at the sight - Colombo meets the women on that video…”

“Hello Michael.” The man called out approaching the pair, the blonde held on for dear life.

“Hello George.” That’s all it took, Nikita let out a laugh and covered her mouth.

The men turned to the beauty, Michael with his anger reigned in; George bemused. “This is George?

“Well hello George, you look nothing…” Nikita chatted.

“Nikita….” To anyone listening, the man was introducing the two; to anyone who really knew Michael - heck like Nikita - the man’s demeanor spelled a warning.

“Nikita, it is finally a pleasure to meet you. Tell me, how to you like France?” George very friendly.

“It is beautiful. I think I’ll be staying.” She said, adding “If Michael will have me.”

“Oh he’ll have you. He loves you Nikita.” George told her.

“Is this a social call George?” Michael sarcastically said.

“Well, actually, I need to speak with Nikita.” George obviously in charge said, “You can not stay, go about your business, go check on the vineyard…do as you must.”

“George…” Michael was going to say.

“What is good for the goose; I mean - you didn’t have anyone with you when I brought you in.” George said.

“Fine.” Michael said, serious and more than that Nikita could see trust; he truly expected her to hold her own. He held had been warned.

Michael walked away, his gait sure, even though inside the man was dying - Nikita the love of his life - inside the wolf’s den. But then, there was poor George -not a fair situation by far for either of them.

-----

George was a very interesting character. The man’s English or perhaps American accent, sharply contradictory with his high-ranking French government job. Conceivably because he admired Michael, or because Nikita was so charming, or even because he somehow felt mortified by what he had to do to these young people’s life, George warmed up to the blonde beauty fast.

She wore a pair of polka dotted red and white shorts, white off the shoulder peasant blouse and her hiking boots. The woman towered over the older man. He offered his bent elbow and she intertwined her arm through his. He smiled and padded her hand as they strolled out of the Samuelle family cemetery and unto the path taking them and the burly guards, down to the riverbed.

“Nikita my parents were important underground officials during the War and I followed suit serving my country - France. I grew up and was educated in Canada. Have you ever been to Canada?” He amiably chatted.

“Yes, of course, I lived in America for a while and travel over there…wait a minute, from what I know about you, you know everything about me…so you tell me, where in Canada have I been?” She flirted innocently with the man.

“All right, you are sharp. But I wouldn’t expect less from Paul’s daughter.” He said stopping his walk and looking at her.

“Yes, I hear he is quite smart. So…you are sure, he is my father?” She asked confidently.

“Yes Nikita, we keep tabs on Michael’s family. He is very important to us you know.”

“He is very important to me also.” She smiled.

“Michael was recruited because of his father and he is so scrupulous, intelligent and ‘anal’ - in a good way, that he has become our top Operative. I’ll explain further…” George went on to delight Nikita with wonderful stories of Michael’s unprecedented heroism, total devotion to his Homeland, to the safety of people everywhere. The facts being thrown at her were absolutely what she expected from the Deity she’d fallen heads-over-heel for.

“You seem to care for Michael, don’t you?” She frankly asked.

“Yes, but that boy. Let me tell you Nikita he is obstinate, headstrong and absolutely without a doubt the most stubborn…” George said and Nikita laughed.

“Yeah, but he gets the job done…I want to make a deal with you George.” She said.

It was George’s turn to laugh, the woman had nerve and it was something she had been born with. Perhaps Roberta Wirth had been willful like the blonde. Perhaps it was something she had learned while living on the streets.

“That is not the way it works Nikita. I have a proposition…I make the deals.” He answered. “But thank you, it has been a while since anyone dared…”

She interrupted, she seemed to do a lot of that “Dared? Come on George, this is the 21st Century, not the Dark Ages…”

“Ah, but there lays the crook of the problem…every place else it is the 21st Century - our ‘business’ is smack in the middle of the Dark Ages.” The man pointed to a stone bench and signaled for her to sit, she did.

George folded his hands and paced in front of the young woman. He removed his dark glasses for they were under the canopy of a tremendous and old tree. He hesitated, cleared his throat and began.

“You don’t mind if we now bring Michael in and fill him in also?” George asked.

“No of course not. He should have been here the whole time. George before he comes back” she said as one of the guards fetch ‘Jacques’. “I will do what I must for Michael, please don’t take anyone else away from him. I don’t think his heart would take loosing…”

“Nikita, I promise, I will do my best to make this Michael’s final mission.” George told her.

They remained quiet. The handsome young man was approaching them, his lean body moving so gracefully the young woman thought her heart would explode with the sheer joy of watching him ‘promenade.’