Section Skewed
NC-17

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Nikita returned to her apartment from Michael and Elena’s home and went straight to bed. The frequent Mission schedule had not killed her. The surprise that the Adrian situation was resolved had not caused her demise. The promotion to Center Op under Michael had not induced her to expire. But the beautiful statuesque Nikita was sure that seeing Michael with a wife would cause her to die, just plain die. She had no reason to keep on living, or did she?

Shit, not only was Michael married, he had it worst than she did, so there would be no more whining rights to be claimed by Nikita. The Adam portion of this nightmare was surprisingly not something that bothered Nikita that much, since the War and the cages she had been sure that Michael was the father of a little boy. Furthermore, how could it bother her when he looked so damn hot stroking the kid’s head and sending him upstairs, not to mention talking about playing games with him. She thought about the Angel of Death playing games with his child, and sighed.

But a wife, for Christ sake, too much, just too f**king much. Thank you very much. How was she going to deal with this insurmountable fact? Nikita thought of the worst-case scenario - Michael happily married, in love with his wife. She could not even handle Michael talking to female ops or valentining anyone, imagine this crap. Jealousy plain and simple, yeah so what?

She took her clothes off and discarded them on the floor as she walked across the living room and up to the bedroom. She thought that perhaps they were no longer at risk of cancellation and Michael could declare his love. But no - wait, there was Adam, who was she kidding, the kid was a major stumbling block. No reprise for the weary, no happy endings she thought.

Wait – again - people get divorced, she could be a stepmother, and… more rationalizing. Her thoughts went on, ‘Bull shit like if that was going to happen’ She recited in a loud voice, “Nikita girl, you are f**ked, f**ked, f**ked, Wow is me.”

‘Michael’, she continued as she donned a very short and very sheer robe with a sash she didn’t bother tying, ‘is going to pay, I swear. While he has kept me hanging with those promises and intriguing comments, all the while he was buffing the terrorists daughter”, She yelled to no one, binding her hands into fists, “Ugh.”.

She was lying naked but for the robe, in the bed they’d shared. The robe hung open, coming off her shoulders and she got cold. Deciding to get a hold of some comfort stuff - some hot cocoa, some sad music, some wood in her fireplace and some candles, she went back downstairs sighing and feeling awfully sorry for herself.

Nikita’s wild hair came half-loose from her ponytail because of the car ride from the meeting with Michael. This new ‘do’, gave her a look of total feral simplicity. She screamed frustrated with the sash that kept coming loose, “And he had to wear the freaking leather crap and ride the motorcycle to see me, ahhhh”. She ripped the sash off the belt loops and flung it across the room.

A knock on the door startled her. She paced back and forth in front of the security screen without touching the view button as she bit her nails. Nikita didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know whom it was standing at the other side of her door. She held her breath and silently ordered, “Go away”.

What seemed like hours passed, but it was only fractions of a second and she heard the key open the door so she mumbled, “Shit, shit, its Michael. Shit.” She repeated in a whisper to herself.

She stood now by the stove, without realizing her robe hung open exposing her vulnerability for the audience to see - an audience of one. She turned her face to the door and there in his leather and helmet stood Michael, looking at her bemusedly because of her dressed - or undressed state. To her he looked like an avenging hero of sorts; to him she looked like a doll.

A slight turn of his luscious lips, both eyebrows lifted, that idle finger stroking his lip, a questioning look in his emerald green orbs, a ringlet - a damn curl on his forehead and soft spoken accented words.

“Why did you come to the house you never really said.” He mockingly asked her, of course she had said when she was at the home in that damn living room. However poking fun Michael continued, “You know Kita curiosity killed…”

She interrupted him, stopping the stirring of the hot chocolate and allowing her breasts to show as she, in a futile attempt at modesty, held the waist of her robe closed. “DON’T, you son of a bitch. Adrian and George gave me your address and an order to get you. How was I to know I was going to walk into the happy home? Even they assumed I knew. You deceitful, self-absorbing, womanizing, self indulging, double crossing, French…”

Michael now was by her side, jacket discarded on the counter along with the helmet. It was time to cut short her tirade and he did so first with movement, reaching for her breasts, slowly, softly, and reverently, down to her waist to pull her towards him.

He continued his conversation next with words, “Kita, it is a mission, just that.”

Michael thought those words would quiet her; instead, he added fuel to the fire. The controlled fury the blond displayed terrified even Michael. He was a whisper away and could see ice building up on her and she was furious.

She calmly turned off the stove, moved away from him and asked if he wanted some chocolate, he said “Non”. She served herself a little, closed her robe and walked around the counter to the other side. Placing the mug on the table she turned the music off, turned to Michael and started screaming, tears rolling down her face, her whole body shaking, and the robe becoming dislodged again, exposing her glorious physique.

He quickly came to hold her; she fought him pounding her fists into his chest for quite some time, screaming unintelligibly. Finally able to stop her and holding her tight against his powerful but now bruised chest, he whispered quiet soothing nonsensical sounds in her ear. His French accent devastatingly present, he was shushing her into serenity.

“DON’T. LEAVE. YOU ARE A MARRIED MAN. EVEN IF IT IS A MISSION. YOU HAVE A CHILD. YOU ARE A MARRIED MAN.” On and on, screaming, destroyed.

He knew he had done this to her, perhaps by exclusion, but once again he had offered her nothing but lies. As always Michael was taking all the blame ‘Wait a minute’ he thought, ‘what the f**k…’

She looked into his eyes, greener than ever, anger showing in his face; his control was gone, forgotten. Michael spoke, “You are supposed to love me, you are my lifeline. I don’t want to be married; hell I am not really married. I don’t know this woman, I don’t love this woman, she is a terrorist for God sake, she is a mission. If I don’t perform we die. SIMONE DIED, why do you think she died?” He was enraged with her, at her selfishness and lack of understanding; he was mad at her for being so beautiful and vulnerable that he wanted – no - needed her.

Nikita stood still. Her anger present, how dare he say those things to her - to her, the injured one. Only once before she had seen him like this, “Michael, but I can’t…”

He turned angrier than before. He grabbed the ridiculous robe and ripped it right off her body, picked her up in an incomparable move and like a caveman carried her wiggling kicking body up to her bed. He threw her on it and started stripping out of his own clothes.

Michael growled, “You are mine, I worship you, you will not deny me. Nikita, I don’t make love with her I f**k her like I would a prostitute. I make love with you, the woman of my dreams, the one I adore, the one I own. I can’t live without you, I can’t breath when I am not with you.”

With this and with Nikita too afraid to speak he kissed her, ground his hard cock against her center, entered her and f**ked her hard. There was no foreplay, no sweetness and care, just desperation, lust and a need to show her to whom she belonged. Even this assault he considered making love to Nikita; he loved her that much, and he was terrified by this out-of-control feeling.

“How dare you”, he repeated, his voice, his accent thick, his extreme apprehension to the forefront; long gone was the controlled Ice Spy. His eyes looked like molten lava. Of course with Michael reeking havoc with her body, Nikita acquiesced.

Little by little moans of pleasure could be heard from her, she started repeating his name, asking, “More, Harder, There”.

Michael stopped when her nails dug into his ass with a force that showed she was ready to cum. He looked at her closed eyes; evil smirk in his kiss-swollen lips and stopping all movement he commanded her, shouting, “LOOK AT ME.”

She obeyed whimpering dejectedly when he wouldn’t continue, despondency reflected in her incredibly clear blue eyes as he said, “And don’t you ever reject me again damn it. You are mine, no other man will ever touch you for surely he will die. You are to be here for me every night, every day, and when I am with E-le-na I will think of you, I will pretend she is you, since I can’t be with anyone else but you. I need you, I want you, I possess you.”

He pumped into her wildly, she was laughing telling him in broken passion filled shrieks, “Don’t -f**k -her -like -this -the -mission -will -never -end.” His thighs slapping against the back of her raised bent legs, inflexible in a savage assault to her senses, eyes fixed.

He wasn’t amused, he was out of his patented control, he was surrounded and being milked by his incredible woman, his lioness, his soul. “Nikita, I love you. Is that what you wanted to hear? I love you with a devotion that scares me all the time.”

Michael told her as he came, over and over again how he felt. She could not hear because her head was filled with his sounds, his moans; blood rushed away from every part of her body to her dripping wet and engorged center. This man made her forget to breath, made her mind mush.

His right hand was pulling, tugging at her erect painfully susceptible nipples as his left hand rubbed her clit raw. His dick way in her hammering the walls, slipping in an out with finesse that was only Michael’s. She came screaming his name her nails scratching him, marking him for his wife to see, “Yes Michael yours, and you are mine, say it Michael.”

It wasn’t over, not by any means, he pulled out, she scratched his back some more and he flipped her on her stomach bending her knees so that her ass stood up. He started giving her a tongue bath, kissing every inch of her body and slowly finger f**king her to another incredible climax. They were mad and wild every time they were together, they felt like this, barmy.

He rested on his knees; entered from behind and mercilessly, while rubbing her clit to her out of control moans, screwed her hard. Sweat poured from his hair to her fiery back. His hands never leaving her clit, his teeth, tongue and lips never left her over heated skin.

“Goooooood Mmmiiicccchhaaeellll” she repeated making the sound into one long word.

She was whining, crying, “I can’t…” “I can’t…” she couldn’t finish a sentence; she couldn’t finish a thought; she was too out of her mind.

His eyes still molten lava as he said, “You can and you will, cum for me NOW”. She obeyed him.

She pushed him off and he lay on his back as she grabbed his cock and sucked, “Oh God Kita, suck me baby, suck hard make me cum in your mouth.” She stuck an index finger in his mouth, he sucked and when it was good and wet, she touched herself some more.

Michael acting so out of character, talked and talked, “God Kita, more, God, how could you think I would hurt you purposely, I mean...”

She stopped and looked up at him saying, “For God sake Michael, shut up, let me enjoy.”

For the first time all day he laughed, so did she; but she did it with her mouth full of Michael. He held her head to his dick with one hand and held the base of his shaft with the other. He finger f**ked her, now with two fingers and she used her other hand to pull and stroke his balls. Michael’s moans were like a mantra chanted by a monk.

He was in heaven, an assassin could come and he would die happy, God only knew neither of them would be capable of defending themselves now. His tormenter pulled her mouth from his dick, and bit him on the inner thigh. “Mmm” he mumbled. Nikita covered his prick again with her mouth muttering, “So she knows, I want her to know.”

He laughed out loud, “Don’t you think she knows, hell Kita I scream your name in ecstasy when I cum and then you show up. Do you think I care if she knows? Don’t stop, again”, he was saying this in reference to her hand wrapping around his dick and her mouth concentrating solely on the head. “Aghhhh, I am cuming”, Michael said for the umpteenth time as she tumbled into her own exquisite climax.

She now was quickly moving up to impel herself on him, riding him fast, up down and around, wild, hard. Both his hands kneading her beautiful rump, roughly almost painfully, she was a bad girl, his bad girl, they were out of control. She came again, so did he, together as one. How in heaven’s name this duo reached climax so many times it was beyond comprehension; men especially have a limit, but it was obviously not Michael and Nikita’s problem.

She threw herself on top of his hard smooth body, both drenched in sweat, but satiated. “Say it Michael, say you love me.”

He smiled, “I love you Kita.” They had come down some; he picked up his head, looked at her disheveled body over his, slapped her cute, now very red ass and kissed the top of her head. “I need a shower. I’ve got to go, went out for cigarettes that was about 3 hours ago…I don’t want to fight with you, but I LOVE THE MAKING UP. Are you all right?”

Nikita looked sad, “Michael…”

“Shh Kita, it is almost over, and when it is, you will make a great mother for Adam, I know you will.”

He smiled as the phone rang, “Shit, is it yours or mine”, she asked.

The phones were forgotten downstairs among the strewn clothing. She got off him and he ran down, naked and fished for his ringing phone, “Hello”, he said, a little winded.

“Michael”, a lilting French speaking feminine voice said, “where are you, I was worried, you’ve been gone an awfully long time, were did you go get the cigarettes?”

“I’m sorry, my cousin’s visit brought back a lot of memories, I am really depressed, I went for a long ride, am now buying cigarettes. Perhaps you are right, I should give them up.” He was whispering into the mouthpiece, watching Nikita moving around in her bathroom.

“Michael, so how much longer are you going to be, Adam is sleeping, and I thought we could - you know it has been…” Elena suggested.

“E-le-na, did you not hear me, I am very down, I need to regroup. I am going to be at least another 2 hours, am really far from the house. Don’t wait up, eat without me and go to sleep. I might even go… I need to go see Aunt Reba, spend time with her.” He saw Nikita start down the stairs and he didn’t want her hearing any of this - too late, busted.

“I need you Michael. You’ll sleep there? I have problems too, I just heard from my father again, he wants us to come visit...” Elena babbled on, oblivious as always.

Michael’s insides froze, ‘oh God, not now, please’. He looked at Nikita who was approaching him and he could see she had prepared the bathroom for him; she even picked up his discarded clothing. His eyes telegraphed concern and apologies.

“The three of us?” Michael asked, pulling Nikita towards him and shuttering his eyes.

“When you come we can discuss it.” Elena said her mind focused on sex with him.

“NOW.” He yelled, “All three of us?” Michael’s voice had rose a bit and he now held Nikita by the waist; her head rested on his shoulder. Elena told him that his father-in-law wanted to discuss the merging of the businesses.

“Yes. I was thinking we could bring someone from your family; well there is Aunt…” she said.

Michael interrupted, “Reba, no she is very old.”

She continued. “Well we could bring Nikita then, and maybe we could introduce her to one of my father’s men.” Elena said not so naively. After the beautiful blonde showed up in her house all kinds of suspicion creeped into her mind, of this Michael was sure.

“For heaven’s sake Elena those men are terrorists.” Michael retorted.

“So Michael, does she have someone? I mean she seemed needy. We’ll talk about her later. Get home, hurry.” Elena said blowing Michael a kiss.

He didn’t answer her, instead he just folded the phone and finished the inane annoying and highly explosive conversation. Elena knew what buttons to push to get her husband to do as she asked. When in truth, because of the mission, Michael had no choice but to do as he was told.

“She heard from her father”, Michael said.

Nikita calm as she had ever been said, “You better shower then, go home and deal with that, a break through, right?” Her eyes were teary, but she had decided that attacking him was getting her nowhere.

“I am not going. Are you all right Kita?” Michael asked.

“I wish you could have told me.” She said blue eyes starring into green ones.

“I always wished I could.” He brought her into his fold again, kissed her forehead three times and pulled her by her hand.

She turned on the steaming shower, prepared a scentless soap and a thick robe for him, “Aren’t you coming? He asked.

“I came plenty Michael.” Both laughed.

“She is not expecting me tonight Kita, I told her I would stay with Aunt Reba,” he said pulling Nikita in with him and kissing her hard under the steamy stream of water. They kissed, held each other in silence, sighed a lot and washed each other, hair and all.

He explained “When this mission first started I took her to a nursing home, introduce her to an elderly Op who pretended to be my Aunt…” Michael opened up and told her all.

Nikita’s home phone rang, she picked up the receiver and said from inside the shower “Hello,” annoyed that she hadn’t looked at the caller I.D.

Her heart stopped again for the 4th time that day. Michael was carelessly playing with her nipples and she slapped his hand away, “Well Hello Elena, wait I was just getting out of the shower, thought you were my boyfriend.”

Michael turned off the water, handed her a towel and took one for himself. Mission mask in place, hers mirroring his, both focused. “Oh yes, I have been living with him for three years now. I am glad you called, I was going to call you to apologize for having shown up at your lovely home unannounced.”

Michael could only hear half the conversation so he turned on a speakerphone; Elena told Nikita conspirationally, trying to make friends, however Michael heard something else in his wife’s voice, “Don’t worry. Look I don’t know what you and Michael talked about but he was so shaken, he went to see your Aunt and to stay with her tonight.”

Michael decided that Elena was checking up on Michael, ‘befriend the enemy’.

Nikita continued, “Well, I just moved back into town and hadn’t seen Aunt Reba for a long time, she looked old and frail. I told Michael my concerns and that I didn’t know how long she would live. She is after all our last living relative.” Nikita bull-shitted with the best of them.

Elena confided in her, “To tell you the truth, I didn’t know much about you, but I’ve heard your name before, I assure you we don’t want to go there.” Nikita nervously thought, ‘Shit’.

“I hadn’t seen Michael in years. I want to bring Seymour out to meet Michael, you and Adam. But Elena I am standing here soaking wet and Seymour is about to come back from the store, can we continue this tomorrow? Can we have lunch you, Michael, Adam and us two? Nikita was now reading a ‘script’ Michael was writing as she spoke.

“I’ll have to check with Michael.” Elena added, then said, “Tell you what if Michael cannot make it we’ll make it just you, Adam and me. We’ll go shopping for furniture, I need some chairs.”

Nikita continued reading Michael’s notes, “I love furniture, my hobby. I would love to help you, and the hell with the boys” Elena laughed. “But of course they can come if they want. I need juicy details on Michel.”

“Can’t wait ‘till you meet Seymour, call me tomorrow, good night” Nikita said.

“Good night” Elena answered, a little but not much relieved about the gorgeous blond.

Michael said, “Kita, she was fishing.”

Nikita added, “Perhaps you better go, I didn’t like the remark about knowing my name.”

Michael said, “Non, let me brush your hair and we can go to bed, I am not leaving. I am sleeping with my wife tonight.” Trying to reassure her, he was kissing her neck.

Nikita turned her eyes to him, “Michael?”

He smiled, “We’ll make it official tomorrow, I know a priest. Tonight we have the honeymoon. I still have things I want to try with you. I love you, are you hungry?

She smiled now, “Chinese ok? Let’s try some Oriental moves later.”

“Chinese is great,” he said as he got up from the bed to get the phone he had discarded and went to find a menu and then ordered in perfect Cantonese.

He thought the time was right. Michael and Nikita spent the rest of the night leisurely making love, talking and getting to know one another mind and body. His soul was finally out in the open, and although reluctantly he accepted the situation he found himself in. All in all, Adam was Michael’s only concern, what would come of him when everything was finished.

Around 3:00 am, Michael’s cell phone rang again while neatly placed next to his side of the bed. Nikita stirred from her possessive position wrapped around the naked man. He expected the disembodied voice to say Jacques; he was quite disoriented and replete.

“Oui” Michael answered, too sated to react properly.

“I don’t know what is wrong with Adam, he’s burning up with fever.” Elena calmly said.

“E-le-na, I am two hours away, how high is it.” He was gently pushing the half sleeping Nikita off him so he could sit up. Michael was used to these shenanigans from Elena.

“I don’t know 38°C.” Elena said, her voice sounding quite drunk.

“Elena” Michael asked in French “how much did you drink last night?”

“Michael if you are cheating on me I swear I’ll get my father to…”

“Elena let’s concentrate on Adam, don’t be so ridiculous, how high is the fever?”

“There is no fever Michael, I made it up, I want you home damn it.” With slurred speech she screamed.

“Sorry Elena, I also have needs, I will see you in the afternoon. Goodbye.”

Michael hung up looking apologetically at Nikita who managed to cover herself from her distracting nakedness. “I’m sorry Kita,” he kissed and asked her to hold him.

“Michael,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him, now lying on top of him, head resting on her folded arms “am I the other woman?”

Michael sighed, closed his eyes and shook his head “Nikita you are the only woman.

************

Michael was driving Nikita’s Jaguar; she sat next to him, dressed in a simple white wool suite. He wore black jeans, black tee shirt and black jacket, all he had. He stopped in front of a little church in the country one hour outside of Paris.

It was 7:30 am and the place looked quite busy, people coming in and out of the little vegetable and bread stand the Parish kept on a side building. Michael looked around and spotted Father Henri. They waved at the each other as the Priest called out “Michel.”

Michael walked around the car and opened the door for Nikita, took her hand in his, fingers intertwined and they moved to meet up with the Priest. Exchanging fond hellos, introductions were made and the Father escorted the couple to a small outdoor altar. He gave the bride a rose from the adjoining garden and conducted a simple, emotional and very beautiful ceremony uniting Michael and Nikita in the holiest of unions.

Mr. and Mrs. Samuelle, thanked the Priest, slipped him a generous donation and drove back to the City. After all Michael had to return to his Mission wife. Furthermore, Nikita had to go into Section to set up for Center and pretend, something she did best.

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It was now 9:45 am; Michael’s phone rang as they were arriving at Nikita’s condo. “Oui” a happy Michael answered.

A tiny voice addressed him, “Daddy, when are you coming home”?

Michael’s heart shattered. How duplicitous of him to be leading this double life. How arrogant of him to think he could pull this off. How could he betray his son an innocent with no fault?

“Hi Adam, I am on my way.” Michael lovingly answered.

“Hurry poppa, maman will not wake up and I am here alone.” Of course Michael knew that all Elena had was a hangover, she was a lousy drunk, couldn’t hold her liquor. But his 4-year-old son was alone and Michael was panicked. Where was the S1 nanny?

“Isn’t Mrs. Bandeau there Adam?” Michael tried to steady his voice, flowing French.

“Yes, she is in the kitchen, I am in the bibliotheque.” The young child spoke clearly “but I want to play Nintendo and maman is here snoring.”

Michael laughed; he was truly a beautiful child. “Adam, go play in your room, I will see you in a little bit, Je t’aime ma petite.”

Michael hung up, Nikita had already stepped out of the car inside the garage of her building. “I need to go Kita.”

His wife understood. “I know, I know.”

The so long kiss was short but passionate, he handed her his ring and she put it on her thumb. Unspoken understanding of the secrecy of their union. “I am sorry Kita”, he truly was sorry.

Sorry for the pain he caused her and for the pain it caused him. Sorry for not being able to carry her across the threshold into a beautiful life. Sorry that he had to take off his ring, sorry that he had to continue with the charade.

“I’ll see you later at Section my love.” Michael told her stroking her face with his fingers, she could not speak, afraid that she would break down.

He drove away on his motorcycle; he would at least find solace in Adam, who else did Nikita have. He remembered Walter and called him on a secured line.“Walter, do me a favor, Nikita found out about the Mission. Could you keep an eye on her, she is on her way in.” Michael explained.

“Will do Michael. How did she take it?” Concern on the older man’s voice.

“She’ll be fine.” And Michael believed she would be.

He then called Nikita’s phone, she had changed and was now driving to Section, her Aussie accent charming him, “Hello”.

“Kita, I just wanted to tell you that I love you”, Michael said longingly. “Can we meet tonight for a short while, I don’t want one night to pass that I don’t make love with you.”

Nikita laughed out loud, “Madelyn says that the average newly married couple…”

“Ma-de-Lynn was never average, newly married or a couple Ni-ki-ta, and I can almost assure you that she has gotten laid every day of her adult life.” He said mockingly.

Michael had achieved what he wanted he was playing normal to a distraught situation. He was making small talk, gossiping, talking to her about inane stuff. He thought this type of communication would bode well with the volatile blonde. It did, Nikita was giggling, telling him stories, asking him questions. The 60-minute ride for Michael went quickly. Nikita’s 15-minute ride to Section turned into a stroll through the streets around Section for she couldn’t hang up with her husband as this new life felt too good.

“I am turning into the driveway,” he said suddenly, serious, mask in place. She heard Adam’s little voice; quickly Michael said, “I love you, see you in a bit my soul.”

She answered, putting on her best cheery voice, “Have fun with your son, I love you too.” ‘This’ they both thought each in their own world, ‘is the way it has to be.’ And it was, but no sacrifice was too great to be able to be ‘Mr. and Mrs. Samuelle.’

“Poppa”, the little boy screeched, running over to the motorcycle and dutifully taking the helmet from Michael’s hand. Michael bent down to pick him up and put him on the bike to tie his shoelaces. “You could fall Adam, hold still.”

Adam was wiggling like any 4-year-old would. He was recounting a story about something that happened in a cartoon and about the tree they planted and how it flowered and about Mrs. Bandeau teaching him Polish. Michael was listening with a mystified smile on his face.

“Slow down Adam, ou est Maman?” He loved this child, even if it was the result of a Mission.

“She is inside, she is up now, she says she has a head-ache. Daddy what is a escathlett woman?” Adam rattled on; Michael almost missed that last remark.

“Who is a ‘scarlet’ woman? Michael asked correcting him, “Where did this come from?”

“Maman says that Nikita is a loose, evil, awful woman. She was nice to me, I liked her Poppa and she has that beautiful hair, what is a loose woman Poppa?” Innocent Adam.

“Means she is skinny” he lied, “you are right she is not evil or awful, she is nice, did you like her Adam?” He wanted his son’s approval, even if he was a baby and Elena’s, how could she bring Adam into this.

“Yes Poppa, she is nice.” Adam answered and his father smiled.

“Michael” Elena ran to greet him; she was wearing a magnificent silk robe and matching nightgown, when she ran it opened with a very elegant flair. But all that Michael saw was the cause of his anguish.

“My headache is gone Adam, Poppa is home. Go be with Madame Bandeau, I need to talk to your father.” She said while grabbing Michael while Adam looked despondent, his Poppa just arrived and they were being separated again.

“Non E-le-na, look at him. How many times am I to tell you that children this age have no estimation of time. Whatever you need to say, say now and anyway I am angry at you.”

“Michel” she put on her sultriest, sweetest voice, “what we need to do and discuss cannot be done in front of the child.” She tried desperately to wrap her arm around his waist.

“Didn’t you hear me I am angry, how dare you drink yourself to a stupor when you were alone with Adam, what if something happened.” Adam skipped between his parents, not paying attention to what was being said, happy that his Poppa was finally home.

Elena was a woman in a male dominated society who married Michael and he quickly became her obsession. She had little Adam against Michael’s wishes for she thought this would help win her father’s approval and bring her obsession closer. The opposite occurred, Vacek finally had his heir, a male one and Michael became enthralled with the child forgetting Elena and her needs.

Now, Michael argued with Elena for at least an hour. She continuously pawed at him, trying but failing to seduce him. Michael was ill at what he had to do for Section, but he was even sicker because he had to continue betraying Nikita. Michael knew that the compromises had to continue; this became clearer when Elena recounted her conversation with her father.

His mind reeling, Elena had told him of his father-in-law’s plan to have Michael immerse himself completely in his business. At his daughter’s insistence, Vacek was to prepare Michael to take over until Adam was old enough and could be trained to take over the business. Mr. Vacek wanted a family member as his second in command, and not necessarily Elena.

Armed with this knowledge and desperate to protect her interest, Elena suggested her husband to her father. Vacek assented knowing the power his son-in-law exuded, he would be perfect until his beloved Adam could take over. Also, this was a way to exert control over his daughter, someone Vacek loved but did not trust completely. Vacek was informed of his son-in-law’s activities as a terrorist for hire who was well known and very successful.

The groundwork expertly set by the Section machinery, the bait anchored on the hook and the hook dangled in the murky waters of deceit until Vacek bit. Now patience, the fishing man’s greatest tool would reel in the catch. Michael feared that the Deep Blood Cover Mission was taking a turn for the worse, either it was about to end and thus he would loose Adam or it was about to take him completely away from Nikita. He needed to think fast.

They were now in their room alone, Adam was playing in the family room. “E-le-na” Michael whispered, “I need to go to work…” trying to pry off the naked woman.

She kissed him hard and wet, using her pelvis to try to re-awake her husband’s flaccid member. “ Michel, s’il vous plait.” Being that her seduction wasn’t working she continued “a quickie, that is all I get after being alone all night?”

Michael had assented to f**k the insistent woman out of his husbandly duty, nothing else. He felt repelled, wanted to run, he was finally not able to perform with Elena on queue however, he knew he had to. His mind was always somewhere else, conjuring up all the valentining tricks he was taught at Section to be able to perform for his mission wife.

“I know my sweet”, he lied and stroked her back, eyes shut against the onslaught of nausea. “I think I’m coming down with the flu.” He ran to the bathroom and threw up, almost not making it to the toilet bowl.

He looked himself in the mirror didn’t like what he saw, rinsed his mouth, brushed his teeth, and started back to bed. “Michel, I need to set the meeting with my father, I need you to take over his concern, it is much too lucrative to let go.”

And like a Pavlovian dog, he reacted. Cajoling his wife to screw again, and thus giving her what she wanted, after all she was giving Section what they needed. They lay there intertwined, she satisfied somehow, he nauseous as hell. He had to concentrated not to mention the blondes’ name, had wanted to scream it when the climax took him.

Elena said as Michael rose to begin dressing, “Michael, about your cousin.”

Michael froze, did not know where this was going, or where it had come from. He turned, fly opened, no shirt and quickly, looking excitedly at his Mission Wife, returned to bed. The only way to control Elena seemed to be by appeasing her obsession with the man and sex was always the proof Elena needed to believe in Michael’s devotion.

“Elena, cover yourself,” he interrupted “I do need to get back to work.” He took her face in his hands and started kissing her, trying desperately to quiet the Nikita conversation that was about to take place. “You drive me wild with desire” he lied again.

“Mmm Michael, but wait, did you ever have any feelings for this Nikita”, Michael continued making little grunting sounds and willing his dick to come to life, to no reward. “Stop that and answer damn it. Do you know how many times you’ve called that name?”

He again grabbed his Mission Wife’s face, kissed her hard, got up and finished dressing, “I will not dignify that with an answer, and suffice it to say that I had not seen her in what 5-6 years.” He turned and stormed out.

The cast was set, Michael hoped that Elena forgot about Nikita. Finally the Mission was progressing. Elena and Adam were leaving to visit Vacek and Michael would follow as soon as his ‘business’ allowed it. To Michael’s concern, the Mission was now in full forward mode.

/////

Three hours passed since Michael and Nikita parted ways in the garage of her apartment building. He had gone home, had it out with Elena, spent quality time with Adam, and missed Nikita with all his heart. As always, he couldn’t wait to get back to Nikita’s side even if it was at Section, just the sight of her made the Level 5 Op feel complete.

Michael strutted into the elevator that would take him from Ground Level into the vowels of Section I. Michael first saw the stunning Nikita when he approached Walter’s burrow. Talking non-stop the Munitions Expert had the tall blonde laughing excitedly but quietly. The bandana wearing man was deep into relating a tale of long ago, when Section was focused and the ends and means were just.

Michael couldn’t resist, checked to make sure the camera in Munitions was off, and wrapping his arm around her waist, pulled his adored tight against his body. She was wearing a flared black flounce skirt with a sheer long sleeved and high collared top. If she hadn’t been wearing a jacket one could see a trace of her nipples through the fabric.

Michael could see this magnificent display of flesh from his vantagepoint and moved to remedy the situation. Decorously he brought the lapels of her cropped jacket together, kissed her cheek, raised both eyebrows, and walked away smiling. Nikita and Walter turned to see the reticent Level 5 Op swaggering away; not a word about the demonstration of affection exchanged; Walter continued.

In a lone corridor of Section One Michael stood against the metal wall, worry lines marring his handsome face. Paul and George stood along Michael holding an exceedingly covert debrief, their expression a true reflection of Mr. Samuelles. Vacek was an intricate target, for no innocent surrounded him except for Adam. George spoke first, his calm English deportment shinning through. This meeting started way before Michael made his presence known, the discussions going on for eons.

“This Mission is too important to compromise. As of this moment Michael has total autonomy to run it.” Operations and George looked first at each other and then at the expressionless Michael. “Michael we have made a commitment to Agencies all over the Globe. We will succeed, or we will all die trying.” Michael continued silently looking at the floor, his worrisome expression only becoming sharper.

George went on “Michael you are now Level 15, one Level above Paul and myself. What else do you need, we are at your service. We believe this promotion is the only way to insure the success of this Mission. The order came from Oversight.”

Michael spoke, succinctly and quietly; his green eyes the color of newly cut grass fixed on the wall behind the older men across from him, “I am concerned for Adam’s safety. I will be taking measures to insure that he is out of harm's way. Vacek loves the boy, the boy’s mother is a different story; I believe that if threatened she would harm Adam.”

Michael’s comments were deliberate, he was sure of what he was saying; his Mission wife felt the boy was a tool. “I understand that the marriage has to continue, I understand that I must start working with Vacek, but I need to protect the boy, he is an innocent, the only innocent in Vacek’s world. It would be too easy for Vacek’s people to cancel the boy and end it all.” Michael went on explaining the importance of the boy, the only heir to Vacek’s fortune and organization, he was saving the child.

“I need Walter, Birkoff, Chuck, Mowen and Nikita. I need a level, such as this one, to set up Mission control. I need the necessary support to show Vacek that we are whom we say. I need this autonomy to come with total cooperation from Section, Center and Oversight. I need to set up scenarios that will insure the success of the Mission and bring it to completion.”

“Done” a voice came from behind the group, from the darkness of the corridor.

This was the famed Mr. Jones, but the voice was a feminine one who from the dark appeared. Adrian, Mr. Jones, or the Mother of all Sections continued, “Gentlemen, would you leave us alone, I need to speak with Michael. It’s obvious he needs more than we are offering or giving.”

Ops and George obeyed and Adrian continued, “Michael before you decide what you need listen to me. We know that Mr. Vacek thinks you are a terrorist with your own organization. We know he has been trying to get you to hold a coup d'état and then fuse both organizations. We know that you have been out on a limb, flying by the seat of your pants.”

Adrian continued, “Your incredible sacrifice for Section will not go without reward. We are humbled by you Mr. Samuelle for you have shown full and total allegiance to our Organization and have brought a degree of compassion to a mostly wintriness environment. All at Section should emulate your demeanor and decorum. Your initiative to set up a sham terrorist concern will augur well while integrating into Vacek’s setting.”

Michael was blushing, Mr. Jones was paying him compliments, and he was worried. Adrian went on, “Well enough with the accolades, this is not a praise session, this is a highly precarious situation and it is our believe that it is in the most important stage to date. What do you believe Michael, give us your insider point of view?”

Michael hesitated, Adrian spoke in the royal ‘we’. He trusted Adrian since he had saved her from the Gellman Process and was sure that after all that transpired, finally things were falling into place. But Section could strike again, situations changed in a moment in the covert world they lived in. Michael had to rapidly evaluate the events before trusting anyone of TPTB, failure was not an option, he knew this and there were still too many unsolved plot holes.

“I believe,” he started cautiously, “that separating Madelyn from Paul and her transfer to Section 4 will not bode well. Then to add insult to injury, my ascension to Level 15, this would be catastrophic; I don’t think we could handle attacks from both fronts, Vacek and our enemies within. We need stronger action, more show of confidence, give them something to hold on to.”

Adrian really trusted this young man since before the Gellman Process incident. She and George in the darkness of their abode and with the Committee members at Oversight discussed his total commitment to the Organization and his upstanding ways. Adrian knew that Michael was right, that having a total handle on everything and everyone was of the outmost importance.

His apprehensions were real, so she took the next step. “Then Michael this should allay your concerns. As of now, I am in ‘Restricted Retirement’ and you are ‘Mr. Jones.’ She passed the astounded Michael the Key that hung around her neck continuing, “You’ve got Command.”

Michael, for the first time since he stepped unto the dark hallway, noticed the four people standing in the dark recesses of the space, at the same spot were Adrian had emerged from. “The Committee” Adrian announced and all members exchanged silent acknowledging salutations with the taciturn man. Michael was fighting hard with his emotions as to keep his patented blank stare in place and not reveal his trepidation.

She continued, “I will be the Fifth member of this group and will watch over you as you become the head of Oversight, Center and all Sections, answering to no one, just heeding our concerns.”

A stray thought entered Michael’s mind ‘I answer to Nikita now, I found a way.’ And quickly without hesitation Michael put the chain around his neck and through the comlink on the wall asked George and Paul to return to the hallway. The two men startled at seeing the 5 Committee members and Michael wearing the Command Key, said nothing but understood the scenario before them.

Michael went on without further explanation to the newly returned older men. “I would like George to move up to Oversight, Paul I would like you to move to Center. As for Madelyn, I don’t believe she should work with you anymore Paul. However, I believe that the clandestine personal relationship you two are carrying can continue, in the open. Further she’ll remain in an advisory capacity at Section 4, which is close to Center. You will not discuss Center business with her. Nikita will be heading Section 1. I believe she is ready, and I will be working from here to oversee among everything else her command, after all I am still her mentor. These are the changes to the Organization being made immediately.”

Michael without missing a beat continued with his plans. “To the business at hand, Vacek’s organization with all its intricacies is as successful as we are, why is that? We need to finish his reign of terror swiftly, and I believe that we are coming within reach of that objective. We will meet again when all my dictates have been put into effect. I meet with Vacek within 10 days. Elena and Adam are on their way to see her father. This is the only way to succeed – swiftly and aggressively. I need your cooperation, please.”

This was more than anyone of those present had ever heard the young man say. With this Michael bowed to the Committee, looked at Paul and George, turned and walked out into the area that housed the elevators. Michael’s heart was beating at a staccato rate; he felt euphoric and couldn’t wait to share the news with Nikita. The group he left behind, dispersed, not a word was spoken; Paul and George followed Michael into the common areas of Section One.

Michael went directly to his old office and tapped a code into the device in his drawer and called for Nikita. While he waited for her he stood by the window and before closing the shade looked down on Section and the busy people laboring there. He could see Paul and George walking into Ops’ lair and his eyes drifted to the blonde at the stairs, she was breathtaking; he was a lucky man.

She knocked on his door and he smiled, as she walked in to find him sitting on the corner of his desk facing out, hands folded neatly on his lap. “Hi, you needed to see me.” She was trying hard to abide by his request that in Section they not show their connection.

“Come here,” he commanded and waited until she was in front of him “how would you like to be Operations”? He grabbed her hands and pulled her to him, he was devouring her with his eyes in that all too familiar play of eyes, mouth, face gaze.

She whispered conspirationally, “Is this a sex game?” Grinding her over heated sex against his hard one and kissing his lips, and looking back to insure the door was locked.

“Non, voila le clef de commande,” he showed her the Key around his neck, “Mais, si vous…” he realized he was speaking with her in French, much too aroused to care and he continued, ”want to play sex games with Mr. Jones, I’ll comply with your desires.”

Nikita let a gasp escape her lips; she enveloped him in her arms and whispered “Mr. Jones?”

Michael separated from her to look into those blue eyes he could drown in, “I guess that makes you Mrs. Jones.” Laughed out loud, kissed her hard and quickly debriefed.

He kissed her harder now, his tongue snaking its way into every crevice of her mouth and lips, battling with hers, and then he commanded, “Alons.” and walked across Com with Nikita close behind.

Michael looked back to see a slightly bewildered look on his beloved’s face, “What is it?” He asked her.

She whispered, “Congratulations and wanted to say you are even sexier for you’ve got command Michael.”

He displayed a barely noticeable grin on his face as he entered Ops command center to find both Paul and George hovering over a task indicator which reflected the position of Red Team in the Balkans. As it was in the Organization, the change of command and smoothly, not a hiccup in the fabric of the place was noticed. The older men didn’t even look up when the couple walked into the room for they were busy.

“How are they doing?” Asked Michael in his economical way.

“They have made contact, perhaps I should explain to Nikita our position on this, no need to rehash the situation with you” Paul was almost giddy, his demeanor had improved dramatically.

‘What a difference a promotion makes’, Michael realized the biggest breakdown of the Organization was its lack of recognition of individual achievements. Michael asked Paul and Nikita to excuse George and himself as he continued walking with George by his side. The time was spent explaining what he expected of the man, and at the end thanked him for his support, for his continuing service and for his trust. George left soon thereafter, needing to meet with his wife Adrian, non-Oversight matters to attend to.

Michael watched as George vanished through the street-level access elevator. He felt that George was an ally, had never received any Intel to the contrary and he liked the man. This was the same with his experience with Adrian, the woman truly loved the French man. Michael turned around and watched Paul, ‘There’ Michael thought ‘is another story, how am I to trust this man.’

Paul approached Michael, now standing quietly at the door; he was smiling that Operation smile of his, half amusement half sarcasm and smoking a dark cigarette and spoke in his American way, “Michael, you are probably asking yourself if you can trust me. Well, you have seen with your own eyes that I serve this Organization with the outmost loyalty. My means may not have agreed with yours, I may have been a tough taskmaster, but I have done what I felt was best for all. I sir, am at your service, I give you my word of honor, and honor is the only true thing I have that you can trust me.”

Michael always good at reading people saw honesty in the words being delivered by Paul. Michael after all had given him Center, the only thing Paul ever wanted, to run under Mr. Jones. The younger man’s lips quirked at the corners at the man’s confession, so Michael decided to change his tactic and throw the man off guard.

He embraced the Paul Wolfe and padded him on the back, whispering, “If you betray me I’ll kill you.”

As Birkoff had done in the past, Paul answered, “That is why you can trust me.”

The three Operatives bided each other adieu and Nikita and Michael watched Paul walk out of Section 1, now under the blonde’s command. Michael had asked Paul to fill Madeline in, hopefully the brunette would be as happy as Paul was. With all that Michael had just taken on, he was giddy with pleasure, power and love. Michael sat overlooking Section while sitting on the desk; he had command and had Nikita. What more could he want. He darkened the window of Nikita’s loft with a flick of his wrist.

////

Michael took Nikita’s hand in his and let out a long breath he knew he’d been holding. He kissed her fingers and pulled her towards his opened legs, lodging her close to him. He rested his forehead on her forehead and shuttered his eyes while she just smiled. He was wallowing in the moment, taking in the new life they were about to embark on and he wanted this woman to enjoy the ride also.

“Want to jump into the sack with a slightly overwhelmed, highly aroused Operations?” Nikita asked, playfully, hotly, sexily… her hands resting on his shoulders playing with his lips and raspy chin.

He was quietly undoing the buttons opening the jacket he had so aptly clasped before and discarding the swathing jacket. “Paul is not my type” he joked. He continued, “I don’t trust the windows of this place, let’s go up to the Tower.”

Michael was massaging her perky breasts through the see-through material of her top. “God Kita, what you do to me. I want to f**k you right now, but I don’t want to start a riot, let’s go up to the Tower, it will be more private.”

Nikita was not listening didn’t want to; the only sense she was using now was the sense of touch. “Mmm, Michael, do you have the same fantasy as I do, of doing it up here in Ops lair?” She was already on her hands and knees; her hands fumbling with Michael’s fly, then inside his trousers; her mouth around his engorged member. “Tell me how to do it Michael?” She whimpered unintelligibly, while her mouth was full of cock.

“F**k Kita, I can’t…” he was holding firmly to her head, her soft hair, like spun gold, wrapped around his fingers.

His very stiff cock surrounded by a very wet mouth as he helped her along by pushing it hard unto her mouth. Her lips making an excruciatingly arousing display of tongue at the tip of his dick, all kinds of arousing sounds coming out. He felt himself start to reach the most anticipated climax and pulled her head away from him much to his own chagrin.

Now Michael was taking control, he wanted this done his way and desired to direct their tryst, “Too soon… I’m sorry my love rest on the desk, just your ass,” with this he ripped her thong off and inserted his prick in her very wet channel.

Michael guided Nikita’s legs around his waist, her arms coming to rest on her elbows on the table. He pulled her up, wrapped her arms around his neck; if he could have absorbed her completely he would have, but he couldn’t so this was fine. He had command of this woman, but no control of what she did to him.

“Kita, please do as I say, hold yourself tightly against me. Let me move you my love, let me posses all of you.”

Nikita was like a rag doll, her skin enormously sensitized to Michael’s body. She ached to be deeper in him, to be more surrounded by him, to be inside and feel his soul. Michael as always focused on the task at hand and at a snail's pace, cautiously, taking great care that they both felt every moment of rapture started moving in and out of her.

The old fashion way, in and out, deeper with every new set of movements, but still tenderly. They were leisurely making love, she was holding on tight, as he had requested, and heeded every one of his instructions. He would tell her first in French, just for the purpose of arousing her even more, and they would repeated in accented English, which basically had the same effect on the wanton blonde.

“Kita, please darling, kiss my ear; now my lips softly; move your hips slightly to the front, not so much; again bite my chin” Every instruction exquisitely delivered and performed by the lovers like a ballet by an important dance troupe. “I love you Kita, let go now, we need to finish, trust me.”

With this and quickly Michael finally took off shoes and socks and of course the pants that lay tangled around his ankles. He also discarded his jacket and sweater for he wanted to be undressed to her half dressed condition. He made her lay on the pile of clothing and therefore on the thickly carpeted floor. Her skirt around her neck, her blouse wet from his mouth, her jacket long forgotten was now a pillow.

She was much too gone to speak coherently; small little sounds of pleasure escaped her mouth every now and again. He was also a goner, eyes glazed over, mouth aghast, concentrating on sticking his dick deep in her, this time not so softly, but not so wildly as the previous night. He picked up her legs and draped them around his shoulders; on his bended knees he started pumping into her, guiding their movements by the motion of her hips being directed by his talented hands.

Michael like a puppeteer, or a grand orchestra conductor did his magic; he aligned them into a perfect climax and they both gasped out air from the euphoria they shared. He draped his naked body against her half-naked one and they came down panting like asthmatics. Air was not reaching their lungs and the blood was rushing away from their hearts to their sex organs.

He was still inside her; she was still surrounding him, their bodies intertwined in a most quixotic embrace. He was stroking her eyebrow; she was kissing his lips, softly and tenderly, communing with each other. Michael was still hard, Nikita noticed and as if possessed she started moving her hips, he let out a chuckle and moved along with her; they both came again.

“I love you Michael.” She said, “yesterday when I saw you at home my heart chattered, I thought you couldn’t be mine anymore. The thought of someone else living my dream destroyed me.”

He shifted his weight didn’t want to come out of her, didn’t want the connection to stop, he needed Nikita more each time they mated. He let out a sigh “Kita when I walked into the white room that first day, immediately I wanted to hold you, possess you, this has never happened with any other woman, it didn’t even happened with Simone. You will never be away from me, because you are my soul, I carry you with me always. You are not only my wife in front of God, you are the only wife I recognize.”

Once more, like in a trance she moved her ass, he slapped it softly and laughed, tongue in her ear, “Again?” he whispered.

They were both in a frenzy, bodies moving, slapping skins, tactile affecting, juices flowing and moans erupting, just like Michael’s cum. For Michael and Nikita sex was a way of bonding so deeply that the ties could never be broken. The love these two felt was extraordinary in so many levels that Paul and Madeline were right in fearing the union, for this couple made a very strong ‘one’.

“This time was quicker, was it because I was the one directing this production?” Nikita asked in a deep chuckle.

“That’s ok, the ends are just…” his comment obliterated by a scorching kiss.

After a while of quiet contemplation, their bodies back in check, they disengaged and dressed. Nikita talked a mile a minute, listing her ideas for Section One. This felt good Michael thought; some of his concerns allayed when Nikita suggested new colors for the Ops. This was his Nikita, always seeing the pot at the end of the rainbow.

Michael whispered, “Behave” and kissed her; finally they moved out of the loft to start planning the future, everyone’s future, their future but now with the added attraction of Free Will.

////

The rest of the day passed with incredible ease. Hard work replaced the frantic lust that permeated Operations lair hours before. Michael had kept his eye on Nikita all day, not only to watch her ascension to head of S1, but because when she was around he needed to fill his eyes with her. Michael also heard from his Mission Wife Elena who as always complicated matters; Michael laughed to himself, “Les Femmes” he whispered.

Construction was going on, both in Nikita’s new office and in Michael’s new floor. The heart of Center and Oversight, Mr. Jones’ office was now in Section One’s Sub Level 5. The special area created to assuage Vacek’s inquiries was in-house but in no way connected to the Antiterrorist command center. Michael heard from every Director of every Section and of course from Paul and George. Plans were implemented, problems addressed, necessary changes made.

All in all an extremely productive day, that turned into early evening much too quickly. Michael was well entrenched in his new command already, just like Adrian and the Committee had told him. He was on his way; a new Regime borne this day, one where the means and the ends would live in harmony. Of course not all problems were resolved, there were plenty of those and some insurmountable.

Michael also heeded Nikita’s request to tone down the treatment of the operatives, she added, “I know you’ll keep in mind that they are animals with guns. This is all I will suggest,” she added and he laughed.

Michael answered, “For now I am sure.”

But the worse complication they had was the great problem named Elena. Michael sat in Com looking around; the night shift was in place, just as many operatives as during the day, because after all it was only nighttime in Paris, it was daylight all over the globe. Day was breaking out somewhere in the world and with this new morn new tribulations would arise. He saw everyone working hard, and not only because Michael was present; Birkoff was still at his console and Nikita approached the young man, putting her hand on his shoulder, thanking him.

“Kita, let’s go home.” Economical, concise, Michael.

She nodded, purse in hand, silly hat being placed on her head. “Have to keep up appearances, Operations never had a sense of style.” She retorted at his amusement.

Michael quietly chuckled looking around and quickly kissed her on the lips. “We could make the Tower our home, no need to go so far.”

She smiled now and whispered, “I can hardly walk Michael that is a great idea, but can I keep my apartment?”

/////

“Why don’t you find a bigger apartment, or maybe a house to call your own?” He said while kissing her, holding her tight, biting her bottom lip and stroking her back.

Her hands were around his waist, serene in the knowledge that the cameras, audio and videos were turned off, codes necessary but available if required only. “Can it be ours, not mine Michael, our home?

He looked into those clear big blue eyes, his green ones blaring with a lusty fire, “Our home, Kita I would want nothing more. Maybe we take sometime to look for a house…”

“Michael us, house hunting, God…” she smiled, kissed him hard and noisily as the door of the elevator opened unto The Tower. The long hallway dimly lit, music faintly being heard, Nikita could see the fireplace roaring and could smell the wonderful aroma of Christopher’s cooking. She didn’t care about his Mission Marriage now; she cared only about their marriage everything first-rate was worth fighting for.

Michael smiled at the attendant who had served Paul for a long time, he nodded and bowed, smile plastered on his wrinkled face. “Mr. Michael, Ms. Nikita, it is a pleasure to see you tonight.”

Michael had considered this affable man a loyal servant to Paul. Michael shook his hand, so did Nikita, she held his hand in both of hers. She understood that no matter where at Section you happen to work, you were an indentured servant and that made them all equal. She sighed when the man smiled faintly, sadly, knowingly.

Michael said, “Christopher, I understand that you have been with Paul a long time and if you desire to go with him to Center I will not be offended…”

Christopher interrupted, “I am sorry to interrupt you Michael, but my place is to serve whomever is here at Section.”

Michael added, “I am now Mr. Jones, Nikita is the new Operations here at Section 1.”

“Then Michael it is up to you to let me know who you want me to serve - you, Nikita or Paul; although I would consider it a privilege serving you.” The old man said.

Michael, who always liked this man put an amicable arm around his shoulders and stated, “Only if you promise to speak in French with me.”

“And I’ll have the staff cook bignets for you every morning.” He stated, pointing to the wine and hors d’oeuvre and excusing himself.

“Michael, I can see I am going to like these perks. Look at these tiny little knishes and the incredible fromage pâté with toast points.” Michael always enjoyed Nikita’s eating habits, it was a wonder the woman was so thin with her very healthy appetite.

“The wine is superb, Salute.” Michael leaned forward and kissed her, pulling her bottom lip with his teeth, “Mmm, want to skip dinner?”

“Not on your life bub.” She swaggered towards the stereo wiggling her little ass, looking over her shoulder and winking at her man. “I am eating, drinking and then we are going home. That is the last word on this young man.”

“Non” he said approaching, “I have always had a fantasy of f**king your brains out up here.”

He grabbed her from behind, pulled her into his strong chest and stuck his tongue in her ear. His hands traveling down to her hem and delving up to her legs’ zenith. The sensual assault made her moan and close her eyes in rapture.

He held her tight repeating, “Want to skip dinner?”

This time she nodded and laid her head back on his shoulders, all thought of food forgotten. She wanted Michael, the hell with dinner. Pretty impressive Michael thought, given she was always hungry.

“I just wanted to make sure I was not being rejected.” He kissed her neck, bit her shoulder, continuously rubbing and pulling at her clit.

“Mmm, who can reject you, you are simply irresistible?” She said after cuming.

Usually Nikita was speechless during her climax, except for some unintelligible words or sounds. This was a first rate pinnacle for sure. They sat on the couch now, Michael helping Nikita straighten her clothes. Christopher, with an assistant noisily walked into the opposite side of the room to place the service on the table. Michael advised him that they wanted to be alone.

Dinner consisted of Braised Rack of Lamb with a mint sauce on the side. Garlic mashed potatoes, asparagus a la Biscayne and chickpea frittata, warm endive salad, and berro soup served over French bread. For desert a simple turron flan and of course cappuccino and a Dominican cigar. Warmed Napoleon Brandy followed this scrumptious fare. The wine which accompanied dinner, as well as the dessert wine were chosen by Michael from the extensive wine ‘cellar’ he found where a closet should have been.

They ate, and Michael himself commented how good he felt, “I can’t stop talking, that is not like me.”

They laughed at the obviousness of the statement, spoke of the changes, the decorating, the construction, their needs in a home and when dinner was finished Michael told her about his concerns and Nikita talked about her own. All in all a fruitful first evening, and then Michael’s cell phone rang, it was his Mission Wife.

“Hello E-le-na, how are you and Adam? No, I don’t know where she is, for heaven’s sakes I hardly have a relationship with her, I hadn’t seen her in years, why should I start keeping tabs on her now…” This was all said in rapid French, purposely so Nikita couldn’t understand.

Michael thought he needed to be careful and stop arguing with Elena. Elena explained her father’s position, how he wanted Michael there before the 10 days. There was much to do, a real big deal coming and he wanted Michael’s involvement. It was starting, the nightmare part of this idealic setting.

The conversation lasted about 1 hour and 15 minutes. When Michael hung up the morose introverted Section Op was back. Maybe it was because of Elena, or the Mission, or the incredible day, but Michael was facing reality, his life was anything but crisis free. Nikita looked at him longingly, sad for his precarious situation, and sad for her part in this dilemma.

“Michael you have succeeded in not serving our enemies on your knees.”

A warm small smile broke his luscious lips, his eyes closed momentarily, his breathing slow and deep. He took her hand in his and commenced stroking her fingers. His voice was deep and full of concerned, keeping his seat on the couch; he drew her to his lap.

“Kita” he said and Nikita saw tears outlining his closed luscious lashes, “what are we going to do about this Mission Marriage, I don’t think I can…”

Nikita found strength were she didn’t know she had it; she pulled one hand out of his and draped it around his shoulders. “Michael, we now have each other, you will see this Mission to its conclusion. Look what this marriage to Elena has brought you, the obvious one is Adam, but it has also brought you this incredible position which will allow us to be married, to correct the problems in our Organization and will enable us to bring down Sallah Vacek. Gosh Michael no relationship is without tribulations.”

In spite of the seriousness of the moment, he found himself growing hard, her ass creating friction just by her position on his lap. He was totally concentrating on the conversation, but her perfume and closeness made Michael tight as a top. At this Michael laughed.

“Kita” he whispered longingly. He put his arm around the woman on his lap, “am I the best sex you’ve had in your life? He mumbled this while opening the jacket and the see-through blouse and licking her ear, her neck, her shoulder, where he bit her softly, sighing.

“Michael” that’s all she said.

He chuckled - enough with the serious stuff “You have not answered, am I” she was unconsciously giving him the lap dance of his life.

“Are you what?” she said now intentionally moving her ass and reaching down to lower his zipper. His emerald green eyes included in the smile he wore, his eyes fixed on her lips, his mouth open in an ‘o’.

“Am I the best sex you’ve had in your…oh Kita…life?

His dick was half in her; she had placed it in her wet tight channel and sat hard facing him, impelled in his now achingly hard shaft. She was removing her shirt and pushing his head into her sprightly breasts, nipples rigid, head back in total abandon. She would rise from his lap, drag herself totally out and then letting herself fall back, repeating the process over and over.

He was urgently seeking contact with her, following her lead, desperately and tetchy, “Kita please.”

”Mmm Michael, the answer is yes you are the greatest sex I’ve ever…” She had control; she was intent in driving Michael out of his mind. By the look in his eyes she was succeeding, he was cracked.

When he would try to hold her down with his controlling hands on her waist, she would pull out and hold his head away from the breasts he suckled like a babe. She was now sitting on him, his cock way inside her; she was rubbing her G spot with his dick and he muffled her grown with his mouth.

“There.” Her mouth completely covering, licking and biting his tongue, she had command. “Say I am your wife, now, say it”.

Hardly able Michael answered “Wife.”

He was cuming, hard and fast. His hands now took control and held her down on him. His mouth also carefully commanding hers was savagely on hers. By placing his flat opened hands on her chest, he pushed her back, her legs opened broadly off the couch, their bodies so very close, with one of his index fingers he outlined the contour of her body.

“Michael, I am cuming too, wait for me please.” She had lost all control.

////

The War that was wagered between Oversight and Vacek lasted two years. Michael successfully infiltrated, dismantled and disbanded the terrorist group. Vacek was taken into Section interrogated and then cancelled. His organization completely obliterated. Elena had gone down in a blaze of glory, she had tried to kill the boy, but Paul had stopped her, and she had killed herself by jumping out of the plane that was returning her to S1.

Michael witnessed the suicide and was not able to stop it; she had wanted to punish him, and she had. He would carry this memory with him for the rest of his life. Operation and Michael had decided that their child Adam would never find out his mother’s malevolent side. They would tell him she was killed in a plane accident, together with his grandfather.

The money from Elena’s mother trust, a substantial amount, was put aside for the child. The money that came from Vacek was invested for the benefit of charitable organizations to be managed by Madelyn until Adam could take over. All in all a demandingly intricate period that would establish the life pattern for those involved.

During this time Nikita stayed away from Michael in the private side of their lives. A two-year hiatus set by both lovers to be able to conclude this Mission and begin their lives anew. It was better for Adam’s sake; he wouldn’t be able to blame either of them later in life.

Nikita told Elena and Adam that she was marrying Birkoff and moving back to Australia. Aunt Reba ‘died’ just after the supposed wedding and Michael spent that weekend with Nikita saying their so-longs. He had to supervise her still; this made for uncomfortable moments because for two years they were sexually frustrated. Michael faked an injury and never had sex with Elena again. At least this put Nikita at ease.

The Deep Cover Mission ended as it had begun without a drum roll. The World was a better place with the disappearance of the Vacek group. Section remained under Nikita’s command, Paul remained at Center, George at Oversight, and Michael remained as Mr. Jones.

////

Michael and Nikita sat on the porch overlooking the lake of their summer home. Their hands and legs intertwined. The moon round, hung low shining through the heavy foliage of the oak trees that lined the backyard. Michael was laughing at the memories Nikita was conjuring. It didn’t matter how but she always made him laugh.

He said, “It doesn’t matter how old we get, Mon Coeur, I sill get hard every time you seat on my lap.” Nikita wiggled toughly on his oh so stiff member.

“What a liar, you get hard every time you see me period. Michael honey we are not old.” They were now in their early 50s, had fixed everything that was broken with their relationship. Elena was long gone, her legacy - Michael’s son Adam finished his M.D. degree, was engaged and had absolutely nothing to do with Section; he practiced Geriatrics in the United States.

Madelyn still managed the charitable entities, finding this a better job than Section 4. The Samuelle’s never sired more children. Adam loved Nikita; she had made an excellent stepmother and lovingly and securely brought him up. He called her daily, even if he didn’t get to talk to his father.

Oh Adam knew about the covert organization run by his father, with his step-mom right besides. He was not aware of where it was so he couldn’t be used against the couple if anyone ever found out who he was, which was doubtful. His life was good, his parents adoring examples of love, devotion and matrimony.

Sections/Center/Oversight/ were run like a well-oiled machine. Their ends were just and their means ruthless only if and when it was impossible to avert. Michael was an incredibly righteous, straightforward, steadfast, evenhanded, approachable and honest Mr. Jones. He took a terribly complex organization and turned it into a revered cooperative were all Sections, Center and Oversight worked together, and not apart. It was still multifaceted, just now comprehensive. His wife a loved and perfect Operations.

-----

Nikita beautiful as ever, hair flaxen, skin well toned although a little less downy but just as soft. Her eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea, her mouth supple, her tongue still Michael’s favorite part. She loved him with impressible profundity. She still ran S1. Michael handsome features had only deepened. His hair, a scatter of gray lending him character, but his elegant and overwhelming physique remained the same. His love for her as timeless as love itself, eternal. His eyes the color of precious stones.

They had taken a month of down time, their connections to the Organization just a com-link away. Their well-deserved time off was to be spent modernizing the cottage, Nikita decorating, because her tastes were not toned down; Michael’s woodworking; both gardening. Their Paris home was magnificent, run efficiently by a full staff.

But this was theirs, like the farm that Michael purchased so long ago during Aerial Reconnaisance. This was their escape, their own world. To get to this home one needed to arrive in a seaplane, only way to land, pontoons. Their beach was isolated; they were the only inhabitants of the secluded island, their Paradise.

Michael picked Nikita up with his strong arms, his wife smiling; he carried her inside the cottage. Their fireplace blazing because they both wanted it that way, while the air-conditioning was on due to the warm summer weather. He placed her on the fur rug and quickly lay on her, removing spontaneously her jeans and blouse. Neither spouse wore shoes or underwear.

He found his wife wet and ready and he was hard as a rock. Nikita raised her hands above her head, stretching like a cat while watching her buffed husband remove his clothing. A simple nightly ritual that brought the blonde close to climax, now somehow magnified by the surroundings. Moving quickly and yet purposely Mr. Jones sexily now covered his wife’s body with his own. Through the bay windows the couple could see the lights of the moon and stars reflected on the lake waters outside and on their unclothed bodies inside.

Michael was kissing his wife softly on her forehead, brow, lids, ears, mouth, chin, neck, breast, nipples, chest, waist, navel, curls, and finally her folds. His tongue licking the soft lips screening her hard slippery pebble. He sucked diligently at the clit, paying particular attention to the creases and bringing the hard little nub well between his teeth. She was moaning, trying to get free of his hands, which held hers above her head.

“I want you desperate.” He repeated his craving, the same recurring request he achieved every night.

Their sex life was a very active part of their being. For the past 20 years they had daily fulfilled their fantasies, realize their needs, released their passion and appeased their wants. She pleased him, he gratified her, and they completed each other. Passion ran hot and deep at the Samuelle household and never did they go to sleep angry at one another.

Her knees where laying at either side of her body. Michael was busy digging his tongue into her nether regions. They had tried every position imaginable and somehow every night they came up with new exiting and interesting ones.

“Mmm Michael more please.” She begged, and he smiled a wicked smile while just the tip of his finger rubbed her clit hard.

Michael was now moving up, his finger still rubbing her, he repeated the kissing order just in reverse, and when he reached her waiting mouth he plunged his tongue in. She could taste herself in his mouth, and moaned. With his free hand, the other one now busily pinching her nipples, he directed his hard shaft into her channel and pumped slowly at first and furiously after. He was repeating her name and she was asking for more. When he would feel himself close to coming he would stop and she would cry-out.

This sweet torture went on for quite some time. Nikita was always amazed at Michael’s resistance, he made her climax repeatedly, but he would hold his “petite mort” for long periods of time. She was untamed like he liked her; he was unpredictable and capricious. His legendary dedication a constant and invaluable tool in his talent and gift for making love.

“Michael cum now, I want to milk you baby, please.” She begged shamelessly.

He smiled and garbled, “Desperate.” Pumped three times more and pushed in so deep she swore his tip bent against her G spot. “Ahghh I love you”. He said.

“I-love-you- more-than-you-love-me”, she repeated something Adam used to say before going to sleep. He truly loved this woman, had since that first day in the White Room. They came together.

They now lay sleeping engaged inside one another. Their bodies coming down from their fantastic journey into rapture. He held her tight and when a chill grasped them, he reached for a blanket strewn over the couch and covered them with its soft material. Dreams these days were just that, wonderful reflections of the fruitful life they lead. Long gone were the nightmares, the night sweats, and the fear that engulfed them daily. They had achieved Nirvana, paradise, heaven, illusive dreams and love. Reality didn’t suck; it was as with all other humans, a struggle for diversity, for uniqueness.

Michael held his wife close, fire out, candles snuffed, CD player now silent. He opened his sleepy eyes and watched her sleep. This he did nightly for he couldn’t believe she was there, that this was real. He saw her smile, and without opening her eyes reach for his face.

He closed his eyes and confessed something that would sure make him smile, “I finally like playing by these rules my love, aren’t you glad.”

Sleepily Michael softly stroked Nikita’s eyebrow, whispering almost soundlessly, “Sometimes all we have are our dreams.” And just like that, they slept fulfilled.

The End