Michael Samuelle picked up a pointy rock and scraped the heel of his foot, making it bleed; from there he yanked a two-way transmitter the size of a grain of rice. “Birkoff are you receiving this?” Operations asked inconspicuously from his ‘retreat’ in Red Cell’s compound. Two years had passed since Vacek’s death and Michael’s take over of his ‘terrorist’ organization and his ascent to Operations.

This was perhaps the most important part of this Long Assed Mission as his wife Nikita had taken to calling it. He had managed to gather the leaders of every recognized global terrorist organization in an effort, as he announced it, to reconfigure their work. A united front, words used by Michael to drive the idea across to the planet’s most feared people.

Michael and Nikita had been working from the Belly of the Dragon and had eradicated a large portion of the huge organizations by merging with then weeding out. They had further replaced their directories and operatives worldwide. Things had gone well, the Samuelles held bloodless surgical extractions leaving the world a better place. Their son Adam completely sheltered from both sides of this Mission was at the moment with his Grandpa Walter in a secured undisclosed location.

Into the room now being monitored walked the last terrorist leader, Jurgen Fiorg newly enthroned head of Red Cell. His organization had remained as the second most important and recognized; second only to Vacek’s, which was known as the “Think Tank”. Jurgen considered himself a Ladies Man and high tailed it straight for the beautiful Nikita.

“Mrs. Samuelle” the blonde would have sworn he hissed, “Enchente”. It was well known Nikita was Vacek’s daughter, the one heir to the throne. Michael was the force, the leader, but she held the rights. “I have been looking forward to meeting you, the rumors of your beauty do you no justice.” Bent at the waist and kissed her hand leaving it wet.

She politely smiled “The pleasure is mine” a flirty wink. She was wearing a Dolce and Gabanna suit; tight black skirt to just above her knees with two small slits on either lap, long sleeved jacket its hem touching the slits, no other top, a cuff necklace of black onyx adorned her delicate neck. Her hair swept up in a chignon, understated makeup. The only other jewelry she wore; tiny onyx earrings dangling saucily and her wedding rings.

As he kissed her hand, which made Nikita’s skin crawl, he took a peek unto her décolletage. Her perky breast peeked out of her jacket and Jurgen salivated. He had no trepidation of the feared Michael; he vowed to have this woman begging him to take her in some lascivious act. Holding on to her hands he conversed with the blonde showing off by giving her information she filed in the banks of her memory for later use.

Michael in his signature Gautier suit and his patented blank stare looked menacing, dangerous and in charge. He stayed by the table pretending to be immersed in whatever task before him, when in fact he was focused on the Jurgen/Nikita exchange.

They had profiled it this way; she was to fawn all over “That Snake” as she dubbed Jurgen, Michael had laughed, patted her on the ass and reminded her to “Focus.”

Michael let his mind wonder, it was early he could afford to disengage and his wife was in play. That morning when Nikita had padded in his favorite state of undress – sans bra, just thong – over to her husband bedroom desk, she had overtly shoved her perky breasts unto his face. She was a distraction all right, and she was his completely.

He’d been reading and had not answered her calls, so she had once more showed him who was really the boss of him. “Don’t you ever ignore me again. Here...” Knelt before him and proceeded through his draw string silk pajama pants to give him head. The friction of her mouth against his aroused member made her task quick. She had smiled at her husband posture of submission and had said “Hahh Operations I got Command.” The woman was a joy and an enchantress and the feared man was mush in her hands.

“Nikita” Michael called his wife, putting two of his fingers up and flipping his hand towards his face, thus ordering her to his side. She timidly lowered her eyes and sauntered over to Michael who in an exaggerated possessive display surrounded the beauty with his arms, one around her shoulders, one around her waist. He glared at Jurgen as if saying ‘Mine’ and kissed the woman hard and full of tongue.

Michael then cleared his throat “Let us start this little gathering shall we?” And so it went on for 12 hours; arguments, resolutions, backbiting, estimations, motions, decisions, a slue of opinions and one pronouncement – the organizations would all merge under one roof “The Collective” with Michael as its Leader – the tribe had spoken.

At the Center, monitoring the meeting through Michael’s Com link, a cheer erupted. The ends were just, now it was time to justify the means. And so it began, the final episode of this ‘Long Assed Mission.’ It always daunted Michael how polite and civilized terrorists were, every one of them had walked by Michael in appreciation, recognition and affirming camaraderie. “Go figure” he’d thought.

Nikita sat by her husband’s side, like some First Lady, smiling, nodding and receiving elegant kisses on her cheeks from every terrorist leader in attendance. She had moved to the balcony to allow her husband his ‘moment’. The throng of men around him, including his bodyguards, otherwise distracted Michael.

Then it was Jurgen’s turn, the man had waited to the end of the ‘receiving line’ to make his move. Every one was laughing, joking, celebrating what they thought would anchor them further in power. And Michael was in the middle of the mille of terrorists sidetracked. Jurgen approached Nikita, who smiled as had been designed and again extended her hand to the lecherous man.

They stood outside in the balcony, away from the group there gathered. In a blink of an eye Jurgen made his move, a costly one. He pulled her to him and in a misguided shift kissed the woman in the mouth, grinding his filthy tongue against her lips, commanding entrance, which was denied. His erection being exaggerated by the chafing being realized against the blonde’s retreating hipbone, her skirt lifted in the back exposing her thong-clad ass. Jurgen looked half crazed with desire and ignoring all the potential danger surrounding the averse couple grunted with each movement of his pelvis.

His hands had quickly gone into her jacket and manhandled her breasts while guiding her trembling hand towards his hardened cock. She whispered “Please Jurgen don’t” and he laughed, “You want it too” and then he heard a gun cock. He immediately understood it was Michael he had to think fast. He turned, holding Nikita in front of him, hand around her neck and licked her ear so Michael could see. His grin and eyes pointing out how he ground his dick unto her now half exposed ass. Jurgen looked confused for Michael only smiled, bowed his head and extended his hand as if he was showing Door No.1 in the Price is Right. Nikita stepped with her sharp heels unto Jurgen’s foot, she then back kicked his nuts sending him reeling, not before she forcefully released his hands from her neck with some very cool move. Rolling unto the floor as Jurgen rolled on his back going for his weapon, Nikita pulled a gun from her garter belt between her legs and shot the terrorist square on the forehead. The man fell dead in a heap and the group now gathered gasped and applauded the blonde.

Michael looked at his wife, nodded and turned walking in. Her guards aided Nikita and she dusted herself up thinking ‘One down.’ When she walked back in Michael was bidding his guests good-bye, it had been a long fruitful night and the performance of minutes before had left them exhausted. With shaky hands, the show continuing, she served herself a cognac from a cut crystal decanter, and woofed it down in one gulp.

“Your wife knows how to defend herself well.” The head of ‘Night Terrors’, the Number 3 Organization was telling Michael looking at the obviously distraught blonde.

“She is Vacek’s daughter after all.” Michael retorted, always keeping the dead terrorist leader’s name in the fore front.

“She has been trained well by her husband. Jurgen had it coming, you should respect a man’s wife.” The terrorist finished. Madelyn had profiled this, had told them these men would not tolerate behavior such as this, and she’d been correct as usual.

When they were all gone Michael turned to Nikita, before the Organization came rushing in, “Are you ok my love?” His hands delicately placed at her hips, his green eyes fixed on her blue ones, kissing her lightly on the forehead, three times.

“Yes Michael, I can’t wait for this Mission to be finished.” She told him, angry.

“Is it so bad being with me every night?” He asked now releasing her, giving her space.

“No, you know that is not it” She grabbed his hands and placed them back on her waist, moving forward she kissed him lightly. “I just want to be normal, is that a lot to ask?”

“We’ll be…I’ll find a way.” He said as all kinds of Techs, Ops and Housekeeping came into the room. Again Mission masks plastered on, they walked towards the perimeter to be taken to Section and the darker side of their existence.

***

Michael and Nikita had decided to keep Adam away for the time being. Vacation time at a ‘camp’ away from his parents was a problem for little Adam. The news the month would be spent at the Disney Institute in Disney World – Orlando Florida, made every concern disappear.

This was one of the best rules Michael’s team had been taught – hide in plain site. The 8 year old child was thrilled, to spend time with other children in Disney World and with his beloved Poppy Walter and Grandma Belinda. The Samuelles were there to see their son off to ‘camp’.

Nikita teary eyed laughed as Walter and Adam sang “Hullo Moda, Hullo Fada” a parody Walter explained from the “Glorious 60s, Kiddo I remember a little girl…”

“Walter” Michael mocked angrily; Nikita and Adam repeated “Focus” and everyone laughed.

Seymour and Carla’s son was accompanying the group. Although younger than Adam by one year, the boys were bests buds. Nikita from day one had formed a bond with Birkoff and Walter that was best described as ‘family’, and in this world they lived in, ‘family’ was good.

“Listen to Grandma Linda and Poppy - Adam, have a ball and be safe.” Michael held his son tightly to his chest. Even though they would be well protected, the line of work they were in always left tenuous scenarios looming overhead. Michael again, this time in French, told his son how much he loved him and gave him a blessing, like parents in old countries did, like his parents had long before.

When the helicopter lifted with the Disney bound group Michael turned to his wife who sobbed softly, raised his eyebrows, smiled a rare smile and whispered, “Let the Sex games begin.” The children had a short ride to the Section Airport and a long one to America. The Samuelle’s had a short walk from the heliport behind the mansion to their private quarters and Michael planned to make love to a Nikita that was not crying for Adam.

She laughed that husky laugh he loved so much, grabbed his hand and pulled him in mock desperation towards the waiting bedroom. Michael had to stop first, make last minute decisions, arrangements, and give his approval before retiring, hopefully for the weekend. She frustratedly tapped her foot, after all she had finished her Section tasks an hours before and Michael had aroused her with his whispered promises.

While Michael waited for some report through a link, he jokingly said to the always-anxious Nikita “Didn’t I tell you many years ago to have patience?” She punched his shoulder half in humor half in disgust and from the other side of the room two guards moved towards her. Michael raised his hand stopping them, rare smile present, raised eyebrows again, other hand stroking his chin, “I am going to pay for this one, am I not?”

“You betcha bub.” Strolling purposely out of the room, she passed the guards and sneered at them. The two men didn’t even blink. Michael’s link came in and his very brief conference ended with the handsome Operations following his wife’s steps towards their room.

“Good going boys” Chuck admonished the guards “if he doesn’t get laid because you two, Abeyance would be preferable.” And laughed.

Michael walked into their “apartment” within the Mansion. It really was obscene how sumptuously they lived. If it weren’t for the crappy ways justifying the means the blonde beauty would think their life was perfect. Her husband always reminded her no one’s life was, and everyone in one way or another puts up with crap.

Michael looked at the ocean breaking against the rocks adorning the cliff. The view was spectacular and the soft breeze that always festooned their patio at this time couldn’t cool the desire building in this man. He always became aroused when he contemplated his life with Nikita; the woman was his essence. He took a glass from the outdoor bar and poured himself a Perrier, no ice.

He walked to the edge and inwardly smiled, he could always determine where the guards were. He turned and saw his beautiful wife standing by the doorway light gauzy fabric stirring in the wind, giving her a wraithlike air. She called to him, without talking, like a siren to an ancient mariner. Michael let out a sigh and just stood there, too moved to walk, watching her, studying her, digesting her.

She laughed, turned and walked back in, disappearing from his view. Quick steps transported him inside the house where he called her name, husky, deep, “Kita, ou est vous mon couer? No answer just the sound of water filling a tub; a jazz piano wailing in the background, heavy drapes being drawn.

Michael again, “Nikita?”

Laughter, “You better come in here, I don’t want your goons to do me harm.” He hurried to the master bathroom, dropping clothing as he went along. Aroused member free to bob in the wind, he appeared before his wife as naked as the day he was born. “Mmm, don’t you feel a bit…exposed…after all you need protection from me.”

He smiled a wicked leer and approached the woman who held a bottle of oil in her hand. “Hold on” he said picking up the phone “I am ordering the two guards to be sent to containment”.

Nikita yelp and quickly grabbed the phone from her smart assed husband throwing it across the room. She stroked her hand down his taught tan chest and let out a grunt. “I think I’m overdressed, here let me perform for you.” The sentence uttered within centimeters of the naked aroused man, his member reaching for his beloved.

“Mmm” from Michael as she lightly touched the felonious member for an instant. She handed him the scented oil and pushed him to sit on the rim of the tub. The stupendous vessel looked more like a swimming pool. Surrounded by a wall of black marble, the spa tub contrasted superbly with the handsome naked man now resting on it. His wife had poured the rose petals, cranked up the bubbles and lighted all the candles.

She started slowly swaying to the music, the robe she’d been wearing made of sheer sheer fabric with just a hint of color, allowed her breasts to peek through. Nikita rubbed her breasts, as the first ribbon was untied. Michael sat as still as stone and licked his lower lip. Her nipples stiffened by the ministration and his stiffened by osmosis.

Her pink tongue peaked out as the half clad Nikita, robe hanging haphazardly from her body, enjoyed her arousal. She moved then to her legs bending her behind and exposing it to the mirror surrounding her. She rested a bent long leg on a stool and Michael shuttered his eyes as the gaping robe gave him another glance unto his wife’s wet thong.

She let out a sigh as she stroked her leg, the come fuck me pumps dangling off the raised foot, the other one planted solidly on the carpeted floor. She repeated the moves with exaggerated movements, which allowed the robe to shift, dislodge, and eventually fall.

He was calling on every method of control he was so famous for, his dick moving as if it had free will.

She then turned to him, standing on the pooled robe on the floor, CMF pumps and black thong only adorning her body, stiff nipples, hair wild. In an embroidered move she bent at the waist, ass towards Michael, legs parted, feet apart. “Lick me Michael.” She said.

Hardly being able to finish her statement the naked Op was kneeling beneath her raised ass. He pushed her upper body so her hands would rest at the counter and ripped the aberrant thong in one move. She let out a breath when Michael’s oh so talented tongue lapped at the snatch, which dripped with sweet juice.

He snapped, “Mon Dieu” he screamed, “I have to fuck you, can’t hold on…” and quickly threw his body to hers, taking her from behind. It was short, but very intense. Nikita making little pleading sounds, Michael grunting like a wild man. Hard, the sound of both bodies slapping together overheard above the sex sounds, the music and the running bubbles in the spa.

He came colliding into his beloved while she pushed herself into him with all the strengh she had. He held her tight to his body, both arms around her waist, head resting on her shoulder, hair damp against his gorgeous face. Her blond hair draping her bent head, eyes tightly closed, being held up by Michael, for her legs had lost their strength.

He picked up her face by her chin, still impelled in her and forced her to look at him through the mirror. “I love you Kita” he kissed her shoulder, her ear, and her cheek.

“I love you too Michael, let’s take a bath.” She saucily said, moving her rump, making him moan as a bit more cum spurted out.

The couple disconnected and walked hand in hand the short distance to the tub. Michael reached for the oil as he entered the bathtub, she had walked in and kneeling by a jet was gratifying herself, head back, eyes closed. Michael poured the smooth warm oil into his hands, rubbed and started applying it to his enthralled wife, first her shoulders, then her breast, stomach, ass. She was having multiple orgasms and he was, between jet pulses, sucking her very engorged clit completely into his mouth.

She separated from the jet, turned him so his ass was facing it now and he let out a grunt, dick extended like a flagpole. She lay between his legs and started sucking on his balls; he grabbed onto his dick and flogged it with both strong hands. The friction was making Michael drool, he was out of control, out of his mind, somehow managed “Kita sit on me please”.

She smiled, taking the oil and applying it to her ass hole said, “Mmm pay back is a bitch. Who has command now?” And enveloping her very tight ass around his very hard dick, she carefully rode Michael with ease. “God Kita…yo…” he was making no sense, she didn’t care, she wasn’t listening.

The lovers came together, they came independently, and they came over and over again. He now lay completely extended in the warm sudsy water, his wife laying over him, body to body. “Michael” Nikita asked her very relaxed husband “am I your one and only love.”

He smiled, twicked her pebbled clit and said, “Let’s be real Ni-ki-ta, do you leave me energy to love anyone else?” Then kissing her ear, then her other one, “I love you so much I live my life in fear. Fear that somehow I’ll loose you; fear that you’ll tell me that you never loved me, that you’ll confess this was just a mission. I love you Kita.”

With this profession the blonde turned and now facing her husband, still body to body, she smiled “I love you Michael, you are the hottest man on earth.” And then she kissed him soft wet tongue filled kisses that lasted an eternity. They had to come up for air and didn’t and their tired sex, aroused again, drove them to make love, missionary style and slowly this time.

Now in bed, half asleep the couple spooned. “Michael I don’t regret killing Jurgen.” Nikita confessed.

“Kita, sshhh, he was a terrorist. He had killed so many people, children.” The tall dark and handsome Team Leader replied.

Nikita smiled “Michael, worse yet, he was a lothario with illusions of Roy Dupuis, plleueze”. And laughing they both went to sleep, per chance to dream. They may not have a normal life, but they had a wonderful existence under the circumstances. The End