Michael Samuelle walked down the long hallway of Section’s Sublevel 2 turned into hallway H3 arrived in his office and entered. The patented blank stare the Level 5 Operative was famous for firmly in place. Section One’s top operative was very dangerous to the antiterrorists the Organization fought, this was indeed of great benefit for all concerned. Michael was also dangerous to the powers that be within the Organization, and thus feared and respected by all.

He had accumulated much loyalty, admiration and allegiances in his 9 years of service along all levels but most of all among the powerful Collective running the antiterrorist group. His voice was heard, his suggestions heeded and his performances applauded. Always aware of Section’s constant scrutiny made the young Operative’s work ethics magnify, his tolerance for assignments unending, and his performance superlative.

Mr. Samuelle had lost his wife Simone 14 days before; had started his Deep Blood Cover with his Mission wife Elena 6 months before; had found out he had to train a new recruit Nikita 10 minutes before. He was emotionally exhausted having dealt with none of these live altering situations head on as far as his personal quarter was concerned; putting them away in his psyche unresolved. No absolution for the somnolent.

Michael sat at his desk in his stark office, closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his stippled fingers letting out the longest sigh. Right now the only thing he didn’t want to deal with was another woman and Madelyn had just called him to her office. “Merde” the unlikely comment resounded in the room before Michael stood up to go see Operations’ number 2 man…err…second in command.

At least he didn’t have to go meet the Recruit yet; rumor had it she had been screaming for hours. He propelled himself to his feet by pushing off from the desk, looked up to the heavens and resigned himself before walking out to meet Madelyn. The woman most of the times made him feel like he was meat in a butcher shop. Michael pinched the crown of his nose with his thumb and index fingers.

Michael’s Gautier clad body moved with the grace of a jungle cat. His incredible good looks worn comfortably along with his sensuality, sexuality and power made the man a perfect specimen. But oh the eyes and accent those were at the vanguard of his appeal. A female Operative had been even heard commenting about his incredible fingertips, that is how strong his sex appeal was.

Because of these traits Michael should have been a number one Valentine Op, but he was rarely chosen, usually these types of missions blocked by Madelyn herself. Walter, the bandana pony tailed 60s hippie running Munitions told Michael during his early training, “Watch out for her my boy, she’s got her claws out for you.”

Michael had quirked the corner of his mouth and listened to the warning. Madelyn had advised the handsome op he was too much of a distraction, too good a Cold Op, and thus no short-term Valentine missions for him. And yet his life lately revolved around pleasing females of all types and walks of life.

He typed the code unto the numeric pad outside the Head Strategist’s door and found the beautiful mature brunette and Sections’ Operation Paul Wolfe laughing conspirationally and in the middle of some sexually charged discussion. The ambiance was compromising to say the least. Michael decided to file this scene in his memory for future use.

“You needed to see me?” Michael said.

Economy of words and movements made the lethal man impeccable. Operations admired Michael and somehow saw himself in the younger man. Madelyn, like always, felt a certain coquettish angst when the young man addressed her in his whisper soft French accented tone.

“Michael” Operations spoke “glad you could join us. Regretfully we have to cut short your leave, we are sorry about Simone my boy, you’ve got to remember sometimes our desperation for an outside life is impossible to justify in Section. She was a great Operative.”

“Of course.” He was in no mood to hear ‘them’ speak about his dead wife.

“We’ll miss Simone. How is the marriage to Elena Vacek going? Have you convinced her on the pregnancy?” Operations continued chitchatting.

“She is refusing to discuss it.” Michael’s short response.

Operations again, “Michael we know her mother died in child birth as well as her sisters; this is the reason why her husband needs to convince her, the only way we will get Vacek…”

Madelyn interrupted Operations now, what power a little sexual prowess had Michael thought “Operations and I have come up with the perfect solution to this fear Elena has. She loves you and will not want to loose you.” She said, hand on Michael’s shoulder.

“I have told her I will leave.” Michael answered, fixed stare over their heads, straight back, feet planted firmly and a bit apart and arms extended with hands clasped. Let us say Michael had coined the term ‘Military chic’.

“We have decided, Center approved of course,” Operations sarcastically added “to add a third party to your…err…equation…” with a click of the remote the face of a beautiful blonde woman appeared on Madelyn’s screen. “You will insist on having this woman carry your baby, a surrogate mother; your wife Elena will decline, you will continue….”

“Nikita Wirth Jones” Madelyn again interrupted, “her name may sound familiar, of course, she is Mr. Jones’ daughter. The man wants the woman trained. Simple. He wants you to do it Michael. Simple. He wants her out of harms way. Simple. He wants a grandson from you two. Complicated with the Vacek mission at hand, but doable…you do the math…think about it, come back when you’ve met her…” Madelyn’s dismissal plain, so Michael turned to exit and was again stopped.

“She does not know who she is, she thinks she is here because she killed a cop, her ‘file’ has been uploaded to the panel in White Room 3…Don’t screw up Michael, failure is not an option for us or you.” Operations warned.

“Is that all?” Michael again, succinct and to the point.

“Good luck, we hear you are going to need it. Go see her now.” Operations dismissed the younger man.

The door swooshed closed, Michael again looked to the heavens, sighed and did his famous ¾ hip drop turn and strutted to WR3 where the young woman awaited not patiently by any account. Michael thought, I have degenerated into the Section’s breeding stud.

***

Michael entered the white room containing a bed to which Nikita was strapped and a chair for Michael to observe the blonde and await her return from the drug-induced sleep she now was under. The Operatives guarding her had to sedate her to quiet her down and had wished Michael well – this didn’t sound like fun, even by Section’s standards.

Michael sat his 5’11” body down on the metal chair and peeked at the sleeping woman. She really was beautiful and Michael immediately wondered whom she looked like, for Jones was anything but handsome or tall. Her vitals showed she was 5’10” and weigh 123 lbs. She had not bathed and reeked of urine, tobacco and alcohol, her life on the streets clinging to her model like stature.

She was a natural blonde, her tangled, mangy, dirty hair still allowing the magnificent shade of wheat to shine through. She had dirt on her face, filthy hands, dirt under fingernails and torn clothing. Because of the dirt the tear streaked face made it hard to discern the alabaster perfect skin lying beneath.

He continued reading, her eyes were blue…

“Who are you, why am I here? Is this hell? No can’t be, hell was that other jail cell. Think Nikita – Sir, I didn’t kill anyone, I didn’t kill anyone. PLEASE…” The blonde half crazed repeated at a machine gun rhythm.

Without answering he grabbed the hose from the wall behind him and sluiced her down, this immediately quieted the woman who gasped desperately “Close your mouth.” Michael instructed and continued until the water started coming out soapy and then clear water again. He ripped her tattered clothing to the woman’s silent pleas. She lay before him completely nude and wet, obviously disturbed by her state, she was finally utterly speechless.

Michael was mesmerized, her eyes were not blue - they were the color of a perfect summer morning sky. Her hair was long, her body slim, her struggle against her bonds showed strength. Her voice sounded like the wail of a bag pipe, like the rumble of thunder…”Please, what do you want I’ll give myself to you, please let me leave. I’ll give you…”

Michael interrupted and spoke, moving in to release the bonds holding her down. “Don’t grovel ever!” The blonde girl stopped and looked to the powerful man who continued “This is Section One, the most covert antiterrorist group on the planet, here you will train, you will learn…”

“But I don’t want to, I didn’t kill anyone. I want to be free.” Nikita begged approaching the tall man.

“Ni-ki-ta that option is no longer available to you…” Michael stopped, her wailing continued so he turned on the hose once more. She stood defeated watching the water circling its exit through a drain on the polished concrete floor and made a terrible decision…she attacked the man whose back was turned to her.

Michael flipped the startled Nikita over his hip with the ease he had used on the offending hose. He lay above her naked body, both bodies stretch, toe-to-toe, hip-to-hip. The blonde felt a strange sensation as her back lay on the cold wet concrete and her front was hot with the friction the fine wool material of his suit created on her agitated skin.

“When you attack, go for the kidneys…” Michael couldn’t finish his prepared speech; this time it was Nikita’s lips attacking Michael. Crushing her pouty lips to his meaty ones, tongue gaining entrance and swirling with commitment, teeth grating lips, biting tongue and lower lips, muffle sounds of need and want from her…not him.

The impromptu kiss went on for minutes; he held her hands above her head, she squirmed beneath him causing rasping to forbidden parts, all other sensations lost. She came bucking under him, his raging erection the weapon of choice. She was droning petulantly.

“Don’t be so needy, so easy, lesson No. 2” He kissed her shuttered eyes, her neck, her nipples and lastly her mouth and stood up bringing her up with him like a rag doll. His infallible control present but faltering and calling on his training as to not take the wanton beauty and thus realize his desperate immediate need.

The young woman was panting kicking her bare feet sending water flying in frustration. “Follow me”, he said adjusting his very wet suit and his very erect member; opening a side door, she had not even noticed before. He pulled her along angrily; demeanor not changing but the man beneath the cool façade was raging. She was whimpering and cursing softly now.

Michael entered a posh bedroom; beyond a bathroom with a marble shower stall the color of onyx. The gold faucet and showerhead stood out like jewels. He walked her around the room as he shed his wet clothes and Nikita studied her surroundings as well as the silent gorgeous hunk.

“Ni-ki-ta” Michael whispered approaching a desk, both young people were naked, he couldn’t help himself, he was aroused still. “This is your funeral”, handing her a photo.

“I am not dead”, realization dawning, “no one came? Not even my mother?” The beauty whispered crumpling in his waiting arms sobbing. Something stirred inside the man, he clamped down on it quickly.

“In here there is no free will, you were a street urchin, prostitute and addict, living on the sidewalks, eating out of garbage cans, your ass” patting her on her soft one and to his chagrin enjoying it “belongs to me and Section. Here you will train, you will learn, you will do the job without questions.” They had approached the bathroom, the steamy water was already flowing he guided her inside the stall.

Nikita from that moment on commenced her training. The grueling two-year period tested her stubborn streak and she held on to it for dear life. His patience, the corner stone of his emotion questioned and challenged over and over by the blonde. She felt sentiments for Michael ranging from hate and lust to need and love. His feelings were absolute devotion and a desperate need to protect her.

His mission with wife Elena had finally given him an Invitro baby, a little boy Adam. Nikita’s eggs had been harvested without her knowledge and fertilized by Michael, then implanted back in Nikita as a surrogate mother for Elena who refused to carry or deliver the child. A convoluted scheme dreamed up by Michael to save everyone involved and thus Michael’s fierce necessity increased ten fold - to guard the natural mother Nikita and their child.

***

Two years had passed, Adam was a little over a year old. Michael hated the constant lies he had to tell Nikita, but he had to go through this to ensure she was not harmed, emotionally or physically by anyone. The powers that be had told Michael he was to ‘graduate’ Nikita and he was there now for the last day of her life within Section walls.

So the black clad operative brought his material back to the room where her servitude at Section had begun so long before. The overwhelming desire to divulge every secret to her ravenously held down. Their son would not survive if the impulsive beauty learned his identity and Michael was not sure how Elena would react if she found out who Adam really was.

Michael explained, “Today you have been granted Level 2 status, you will be going on your first mission. But starting now I must ensure your ability to act as a Valentine Op, the only subject you’ve never been tested on. Take your clothes off…slowly…perform for me.”

And so she did, leisurely as requested her white scrubs were removed; she then stripped the Level 5 operative just as unhurriedly and with convincing loving kisses to his impassive veneer. She remembered the bathroom and pulled him in to continue her test, “Will there be an essay part? The blonde mocked.

Nikita’s beautiful and anguished face dissolved into one of innocent hope, she smiled a beaming grin and surrounded his neck with her arms, rubbed her body against his and whispered in his ear, first licking its perfect shell. “I never killed anyone, I never slept with anyone, I never used drugs. Mr. Jones is my father, you are now working for Oversight as of now you are a Level 12 Op.“ And biting Michael’s perfect earlobe the blonde took the soap bar, fell to her knees and with devotion started bathing the operative’s extremely aroused form.

He pushed her against the shower wall thus taking control again for the camera’s to see. If Nikita’s confession had startled Michael he was not letting on. She had divulged her knowledge inside the shower showing Michael this woman knew what she was doing for in here no audio monitoring devices could work. Then who was she - he had to play along.

“Get me out of here, we need to talk.” She again whispered.

Michael finished bathing Nikita, the desperation they’d shown replaced by utter devotion. He picked her up and carried her towel encased body to the bedroom, where he dried her, brushed her hair and covered her in soothing perfumed oils before entering her, hips off the bed, legs around his kneeling body, eyes closed. Both Operatives enjoyed the coupling; it was Nirvana, Utopia, and perfection. Michael’s soul cried within, finally saying goodbye to Simone; Nikita felt fear and a feeling she never felt before.

He covered her sated body and sadly smiled reminding her of 2 years before and said “Lesson 5, never release control.” Clamped handcuffs on, kissed her nose and told her to sleep, he would be back. His eyes transmitting his understanding of what he had to do, he dressed and left, she slept.

Michael walked briskly to his office, needed to think without anyone around. Upon reaching his desk he started punching the code rendering the surveillance inoperable and stroked his lip. Operations entered with Madelyn in tow.

“How was it my boy? Enjoyed yourself?” The leader of Section One had taken to bleaching his gray hair white, giving his pointy head the appearance of a snowy mountain top.

“I need to get her out of here, she is not doing well under the parameters set by Section. I agree she needs to become totally enamored of me. Nikita is obviously a dependant personality, highly susceptible but not stupid in the least.” Michael went on with his observations and proposals watching the pair before him cautiously.

“I agree Michael, here she will not do well. We are under close scrutiny by her…Daddy. There are too many intrusions, this woman is much too passionate” Looking for a reaction from Michael who thought - passionate, she defines the term. Madelyn went on. “Michael you have to convince this woman by helping her ‘escape’ Set her up in the house we used for the Lisa Fanning’s mission, let her think this is your home and now her home.”

“Not in the city, too easy, too normal.” Operations continued “We brought her into this ultra modern environment and now need to continue dazzling her. Michael the farm you bought last year…is it habitable?” The white haired man sneered, so did Madelyn.

This was another day to test the strong Operatives resolve. “Of course” He answered, no emotion, although inside he was quite distraught.

“I think it needs some work, not much. C’est vrai Michel?” Madelyn added. “Perhaps the latch on the window by the kitchen could be changed and the heating could be upgraded some.” Sinisterly advising the younger man they really knew about his home.

“There is no electricity, the fireplaces and stoves give adequate heat. Don’t change the authenticity of the place Madelyn. The latch will give them both something to do.” Operations added both intensely focused on the stoic young man.

“They’ll have plenty to do Paul.” Rare use of Operations given name, forced laughter Michael noted. Madelyn continued, “What are we going to tell the little woman Elena after all you’ll be gone for a couple of weeks, your son will miss you I am sure.”

“I have taken care of communicating about the accident of my superior at the excavation site.” Michael said. He was pretending to be an Archeologist for Elena’s sake.

“Good” Operation added, grabbing Madelyn by her elbow and ushering her out of Michael’s office, saying over his shoulder laughing. “Michael make your escape from Section a memorable one or at least as memorable as your first meeting two years ago.”

Michael abandoned his idea to further review the blonde’s file, removed the disk from the hard drive and left the room to return to the sleeping woman. His short walk back to the holding room gave him time to castigate himself for loosing control with Nikita here in Section.

The need he had felt since Simone death was greatly alleviated by the blonde, never by Elena. The blonde woman was a magnificent object for Michael to give flight to his imagination. When Michael returned the blonde was waking she stretched on her bed and his hard-on returned. He saw her limber body now smelling like gardenias, her beautiful face relaxed, her magnificent eyes reflecting the satiation by the sexual acts they’d shared.

She said saucily “Hi Michael, I need to go to the bathroom.” She was pulling on the handcuffs and making a racket against the metal headboard.

He approached the bed and softly said “Ni-ki-ta, I am going to help you escape, do as I say.”

The blonde following his lead answered also in a soft tone and still rattling the cuffs, “Why would you want to help me?”

Michael softly again, “Because I have studied your file, I have seen you are not guilty, you are not who they say you are…when I take off the cuffs go to the bathroom, get dressed and wait until I call you.” He handed her clothing Madelyn had given Michael.

The room of course was being monitored and Ops and Maddie watched from the perch while Paul enjoyed the display of flesh by the blonde. “What a waste” he mumbled.

“Perhaps you would like a turn with her before they escape.” Maddie said, pissed off.

“Madelyn don’t tell me you are jealous” Paul said rubbing his arousal against Maddie’s Dior clad hip.

“Don’t be ridiculous Paul, jealousy is a wasted emotion, even if you bed the woman, you will not fall in love with her and run away like some lovesick puppy. If you relieve this desire perhaps we can move on without further disruptions.” Madelyn said as she left the room.

“That is cold even for you Madelyn.” Operations added and laughed turning to watch Michael and Nikita slinking their way through some obscure Section passageway and out into the cold night and a car Michael had supposedly stolen for the escape.

***

Michael called Section from the car an hour outside of Paris. He informed Birkoff Nikita and him were on Mandatory Refusal, for the meet for the Valentine Mission was compromised. He would be in contact as soon as possible. Birkoff informed Operations who continued the stratagem so Michael could conclude the mission at hand.

Nikita took out of her back tooth a spec of a silver disk; she attached it to the dashboard and took her seat belt off turning on the radio looking for a particular station. She turned to Michael who not once had taken his eyes off the road, a male voice spoke, “Michael the woman to your right is indeed Nikita Jones, Mr. Jones’ one and only daughter.”

Michael knew the voice; it was Hillinger - George Jones lackey. The man continued, “We need to stop the incredible carnage, for lack of a better word, happening in Section One. Paul is out of control and totally…static, static, static…” The blonde picked up a cell phone and dialed – “We lost you, yes I will finish. Later.”

“Pussy-whipped by Madelyn” Nikita said hanging up.

“Pardon me?” Michael asked.

“Paul is pussy-whipped by Madelyn and he has been acting like a total fool.” Nikita smiling said. Michael nodded, she continued. “We need your help in stopping them, they are killing operatives at whim and this blood cover mission they’ve put you into is doomed to fail if it wasn’t for you…” she added matter of factly, “what has happened to them. What has Paul turned into, the absurd greed…”

Michael now looked at the woman and she smiled thinking he was finally relaxing, but Michael’s Section mask was strapped on tighter than his jeans. “Put your seat belt back on, we are going to hit rough terrain.”

Nikita groaned as a particularly deep pothole was hit, “I think we hit rough terrain about 2 years ago…” She was wearing a black leather jacket, which zipped on the front, now opened. A simple knit black long dress, which buttoned on the front, the three top buttons undone and flat ankle boots.

Michael ignored the sarcasm, this woman was wreaking havoc on his psyche and he truly didn’t need this constant arousal on top of everything else. The blonde looking openly at the extremely handsome man thought what a waste! And continued with her very erotic memories while admiring the passing scenery.

“Michael” Nikita interrupted the deafening silence. “Tell me about Elena Vacek.” Michael didn’t answer, just shifted to a lower gear.

“Michael that was not a request for curiosity sake, I am your team leader here, tell me about Ms. Vacek.” The blonde, sugary sweet, said to the exasperating gorgeous man.

“She is 29 years old, has never seen her father, he had left her mother six months before she was born. Her mother died in childbirth. She is Oxford educated with a degree in Far Eastern Art. She is…” Michael recited the mundane Intel, no expression.

The blonde interrupted, “I know this Intel. Do you suspect her of being…pause…too perfect?

“What do you mean?” Michael said a bit amused.

The blonde amazed for she thought she heard hilarity in his response. “Well…pause…I can see what the attraction to you is, I can see why she would be devoted, but she never questions your absences, she never questions your bullet wounds, she accepts everything without anger or suspicion?”

Michael not amused anymore reposted upon hearing her continued irony and stopped the car, “Are you…pause…umh? He had turned and could see the blonde’s unforgettable nipple peaking through the cleavage. The painful tugging in his crotch hit a crescendo and he was pissed now for sure.

Turning away from the window, “Michael why did you stop?” she asked still not noticing where his eyes were fixed.

“We are here.” He added, “Remove the block we want them to know where we are.” He was a bit angry with himself, but of course she thought he was angry with her, and in a way he was.

“What have I done?” She asked fingers hovering over the block.

“What do you mean?” He spat out.

“You are barking at me.” She retorted.

“Cover yourself, I will not have you try to distract me.” With this he stepped out of the car and walked towards the house. The most controlled individual she had ever known existed vacillating, she thought. The infamous edge diverted, she concluded.

She followed furiously, slipped in the snow and fell on her ass with a loud thump. “Ouch”.

He ran to her side, concern obvious on his face and when he tried to help her up, he slipped in the patch of ice and fell on the blonde. Their bodies although clad in winter coats touched again and Nikita could detect Michael’s raging sex. She smiled and he attacked, kissing hungrily the mouth that had tormented him for hours.

“I believe” she said when they stopped to catch a breath, “we should do something about our rampant hormones if we want to be able to succeed in this Mission.” She went back to kissing him with an intensity only matched by his. “Mmm can we do this inside?” He added, “Section approved.” He smiled.

In a way Michael was not following either set parameters. He was not sure what Operations wanted of him and of course there was Mr. Jones. Why send this woman and expect the operative to blindly obey, too many variables that could quickly turn to anomalies and he was not comfortable at all. He also had the added distraction of his feelings for the creature that slowly had grown to be his distraction.

“I don’t care about Section’s approval Michael, I am a woman first and I care about your approval.” She added playing with his fascinating lower lip and in a castigating tone.

Michael’s smile continued, he helped her up, kissed her virtuously in her mouth, whipped her arm, her ass, her back with swift careful strokes getting rid of the snow, ice and water clinging to her coat. He now kissed her forehead three times “Kita, patience.” Turned and proceeded to open the window shutters and massive door.

The hormones were not the only things out of kilter for the two handsome operatives. Their minds, their feelings, their emotions all in turmoil. The usually controlled Michael was out of control and dithering to boot. The habitually impetuous but responsible Nikita was more impulsive than usual without caring what consequences would be there to pay.

Both were acting uncharacteristically, but were enjoying this sensual dance of seduction being played both physically and mentally. And at the same time, they were acting like petulant elementary school children pulling petals of a flower chanting, “She loves me, He loves me not.”

The inside of the rustic old house was as charming as a storybook cottage. The blonde and Michael shed their respective coats and hung them on the hat tree by the door. It was a bit chilly but Michael covered the beauty with a soft plush champagne colored wrap lingering to smell her beautiful hair.

He busied himself explaining when he had bought the property, how he had found it and how surprised he was Section knew about it. He went on talking while going about doing chores, bringing in wood from the shed, checking the water supply, the food supply, starting fires in the three fire places, and so on.

Michael was giving her loads of personal information, atypically Michael.

The blonde just plainly, and to Michael’s enjoyment, busied herself with exploring. “Oh Michael, an antique Victrola, you just crank this succer and you have music, no electricity necessary. She fussed with the antique, admiring its beautiful horn which was hand painted with flowers and vines. She searched through the record collection.

Michael approached her putting a hand on her lower back and instructed how to use the old record player. “Do you want electricity?” He asked kissing her cheek with a familiarity that felt good to both and handing her a cup of tea he’d taken a sip out of a moment before.

“Michael, you are full of surprises,” she said not only about the offer of electricity, which the cottage obviously didn’t have, but for the kiss, the shared tea and the ease he was exhibiting. “Were are you going to get electricity?”

“I have a gasoline powered in the car port.” He pulled her by the hand he had greedily absconded and showed her to the shed attached to the cottage serving as the garage. Also housing a black SUV he kept at the farm. Michael’s fingers intertwined with hers played an erotic caressing game.

“Michael, you have all kinds of toys here.” She said animatedly pulling him now to every corner; Michael let go of her hand and reclined against the car, arms and legs crossed totally relaxed and blissfully watching the blonde beauty touch, feel and examine every gadget, nook and cranny of the area.

“Don’t turn on the power plant yet, I love the primitive feeling of this place.” She added walking purposely back to the bemused man. “Are you hungry”, she said this opening his folded arms and snuggling into them.

“For you or food?” He asked kissing softly her waiting lips.

Deepening the kiss, tongues waging a sensuous war, an obviously aroused Michael enveloped the wanting blonde when she said, “I cannot be hungry for you, you’ve captivated me Michael.” He carried her into the house and unto the soft worn leather couch.

“Am I under orders to please you?” He asked whispering his question into her lips.

“Mmm” was all she answered, for her stimulated being was beyond reason or thought. She stopped and for the first time remembered the mission. “I should be the one mad at you, you’ve distracted me”, and now whispering “are we being monitored?”

“No, just tracked”. He slowly knelt next to her laying body and tenuously started opening the buttons and removing clothing in an invasive way. He touched the spance of skin as it became exposed to his sea green eyes. His touch was controlled, soft and decisive, he wanted, no needed to possess this woman who had stolen his focus.

“Kita” he whispered, saying it as a prayer. He was so aroused his sex hurt, he was going to seize and own this woman…perhaps even trust in her. He had now joined the half dressed magnificence on the couch and was drowning in the feel of her body under his meandering hands.

“Michael please don’t let this be just a mission.” She managed to put forth. He sadly smiled “Kita, we need to talk” he was worried “part of the mission I have been told is that your father wants a child from our union.” He wanted desperately to tell her about Adam, their son.

“What?” She jumped up, pushing the man off her body and watching him, cerulean eyes full of anger, as he licked his kiss-swollen lips with his strong demanding tongue.

“Kita, can we discuss this after…I need…” He almost supplicated.

“In a minute…here,” as she started removing his sweater, then undoing his pants, “how can my father be such an ogre, what is the matter with these people? I am capable of finding a…”

He interrupted her diatribe with a resounding kiss as his sculptural chest revealed itself, “I think what he is trying…”

She interrupted, “Bull shit Michael, you cannot excuse him. First he makes me be a surrogate mother…you don’t know the pain of loosing a child you have carried in your womb…I don’t know what happened to the baby’s body Michael…I just know he was stillborn…” She was furious and angrily recounted her quasi-sequestered life under the hands of Mr. Jones. This mission, it turned out, was her first venture on her own. This horrific installment continuing her oh so controlled existence.

Michael remembered Jones was using their son as a pawn with no regrets. This was the reason Michael submitted and performed for the puppeteers holding the strings. He didn’t think this seemingly controlled woman would survive the awareness of their offspring’s existence and of Michael’s perfidy to her.

“Kita I am sorry…” She interrupted his reverie this time smiling. “No wonder they call you the Angel of Death.” She giggled and attacked his pecks with her very talented tongue; she worked her way to the hair dewily surrounding his very hard erection. Stopping for a fraction of a second she added, “Let’s do this now, we are going to talk...but later.”

Michael let out a breath as her very wet warm mouth enclosed his maleness and her hand encircled his sac. He was breathing shallowly and had his intense eyes affixed on the beautiful woman’s form. He could not remember ever, in all the sex acts he had performed during his life, when he enjoyed a coupling as much as he was enjoying her caresses.

She was humming. Attacking his extraordinarily beautiful hard member like a condemn man would enjoy a stay of execution. She was slowly pulling down all his walls with an honest display of wanton need and with exquisite finesse. She was obviously not a pro, Michael felt she was a novice; hell even he was like a neophyte in this game he knew so well.

“Kita, let me” he said, not really moving, “I want you to get some pleasure…” She interrupted, sucked hard once before letting go “You don’t think I am enjoying this? Michael…”

Michael held her face and pulled her to sit on him; with his thumb he whipped the tear rolling down her spectacular face, a sad grin on her luscious mouth. He kissed her, asked her to tell him about her life and held her fiercely saying before she shared her tale of wow with him. “Kita, how can you have borough yourself into my being? I am conflicted, I need to think…I can’t…”

Now it was Michael who looked forlorn, the freaking Angel of Death converted into a pot of pudding, she laughed, hiccupping “We need to stop don’t we? We need to talk, let’s get dressed and go for a walk. We don’t want our physical needs to interfere with our emotional ones.”

When Nikita tried to disengage from Michael, her body refused, his held on. She rode the man inside her with abandon and ecstasy. He allowed his very hard mast to pummel her insides and her walls reacted by milking his serum greedily to her joined release. Their private parts shuddered, their lips met, their tongues warred, their arms held, they rejoiced.

And then walk they did, hand in hand through the forest surrounding the property while the sunset illuminated the sky. They were discovering their own back yard while Michael shared stories of the beautiful boy back home with Elena. She was thinking she should stop thinking, he was wondering how this mission could end well.

***

Michael said holding her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Ni-ki-ta Adam was an Invitro baby, as you must know Elena refused to carry a child, they believed a baby would ensure Vacek’s capture and this was the only way it could be done…” “A clone?” Nikita asked confused.

“No, it is my sperm however, Elena was not the vessel that carried the baby, she simply refused, afraid of her mortality. But I have no regrets Kita, I do love my son with desperation.”

“Oh Michael…you protect him…” She kissed him again and he held on for dear life. Now trying to move the conversation along, before he betrayed his better judgment and told her the whole truth, he said “I believe our biggest concern right now is the Mission. I know you said…”

She interrupted “But of course Michael, I have to conclude the Mission, my father would not stand for it, hell I don’t think you would stand for it either. Perhaps we should put a cork in this display of lust” he was again kissing each finger and sucking the tips, “however, you said my father ordered a grandbaby…”

She smiled and took off running, their laughter spontaneous and loud.

Michael followed catching her precisely as they passed a sail boat he kept by the lake behind the property. It was sheltered with a tarp now covered with snow. She stopped suddenly, her attempt to get loose from Michael thwarted by her curiosity and intent perusal of the vessel. “A catamaran, how fun! Can we take it out?”

He was holding her close to his body, playing havoc with her sculptured mid section. “Now? You want to go sailing in the late hours of an early fall evening?” He was mumbling while kissing, she was wiggling and giggling and letting out little incoherent sounds of joy.

Michael felt free and told her, surprised not only by his feeling of elation but also by his ability to share them with her. Nikita stopped her celebrating and smiled, “Make love to me in the boat.”

He looked at her, nodded and pulled the boat out to the lake, she helped enthusiastically asking all kinds of questions and he answered each and every one of them. The sails rigged, the boat floating and the couple maneuvered the vessel through the marsh and unto the slightly choppy waters of the large lake.

She sat between his legs, they both wanting closeness, even more than sexual release.

And finally when they were well off shore, he took her in his arms and loved her with commitment, fervor and initiation. No emotion ignored, no feelings spared, no inch of being overlooked. They came as one, repeatedly and Nikita felt she could trust him with information she had avowed to safeguard.

While Michael rubbed her nugget and sucked on her breasts for the umpteenth time, her broken speech recited the real parameters of the mission at hand.

Michael had been promoted for Mr. Jones wanted him to take over the Sections, and eventually Center and Oversight. Nikita would be his second in command, if he so chose.

Her father wanted a man, not her, to lead. This old fashion non-contemporary thought process didn’t sit well with Nikita, except she didn’t want the job; she wanted desperately to be a wife and a mother. She wanted to follow in the footsteps of the imaginary women she wanted to emulate, but had never met in real life.

She wanted to continue to serve the planet as an operative. Her father’s goal, with the approval of the committee who helped him run the Organization, was to bring it back to the path originally designed by them. Somehow the Sections had lost their way with ruthless means, a perfect example was the Vacek mission.

Nikita continued, Elena Vacek Samuelle was suspected of being a Red Cell Operative of high rank, something Michael already supposed and he filled Nikita in on his observations of his wife. Nikita smiled and hugged him he asked what that had been for, she just reposted, “I am growing quite fond of you.”

The Operatives had formed an alliance the likes of which the Organization had never seen. He told her they would find loads of opposition for no one would appreciate this show of strength. Nikita explained the powers that be really admired and trusted Michael. So Michael gathered the mission was two fold; flush out Elena and flush out the unwanted elements of their own Organization.

Nikita added, “Let’s not forget a little Nikita running around, a little sister for Adam…”

He interrupted her with a soft kiss, grabbing her face in both his hands he said, “Let’s make a pack, whatever happens, we will not lie to each other…” But Michael knew the only truth he could not share was the most important one – Adam.

And that cool fall evening the most powerful alliance was formed; before everything was over, the Sections, Center and even Oversight would never be the same. For now, and for the next couple of weeks the couple communed with each other at home, on their walks they planned, plotted and prepared for the future.

Nikita and Michael had to work within those parameters set for them, but still succeed with the Collective’s goals and forge forward with their own objectives.

So a delicate balance and dance was put in motion, their future uncertain, but at least not to be traveled alone. For they were more than occasional lovers, fervent friends, inseparable allies; the couple somehow had become and was to remain one.

The End