After several unanswered knocks, Michael cautiously swings the door open and is confronted with one of most disgusting sights he has ever seen.

There is Operations on his hands and knees, his head under the bed with his rear end tilted up and wiggling back and forth.

Michael swallows and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, the appariation is still there, just as bad as he remembers.

"Sir?"

Operations jumps at the sound of Michael's voice and smacks his head on the underside of the bed. "Ouch! Dammit!"

He pulls out from underneath the bed and glares at Michael from his kneeling position, one hand rubbing the top of his head. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" he scowls.

Years of training come to Michael's aid and his lips don't even twitch as he answers, "I did. Several times in fact."

"Oh." Operations does not apologize nor explain his behavior or rudeness and instead stands up.

"Well." Operations pulls his jacket off the bed and onto his trim frame. His hands absently adjust the cuffs and as he touches the left one he frowns again. "Let's go then."

Michael says nothing and merely stands to the side so that Operations can proceed him out of the door.

"Why George has to have this meeting here, I don't know." Operations mumbles as he continues to fiddle with his left cuff.

Michael, who has heard this muttering from the moment of announcement, says nothing and resigns himself to standing guard over another boring meeting which will not make Operations happy with its resolution.

* * * * *

Outside the meeting room, Michael takes his place on one side of the door and his doppelganger, in everything but looks, stands on the other side of the door. They acknowledge each other but that is the extent of their communication.

Michael sighs inwardly and thinks about Nikita. He shouldn't allow himself to miss her, but, of course, he does.

He remembers her reaction to his news.... Scotland? You are going to Scotland? With Operations?!

She had seemed overly surprised, too anxious, too nervous, too astounded.

Yes. Why? Michael had meant why the reaction? Why the anxiety?

She has blushed and stammered and looked away. Oh nothing! I'm just surprised that you can both be out of Section at the same time, I guess.

Michael had not believed her but could discern no reason why the information should alarm her as it did, Madeline will be here.

Oh! Yes, of course! Well that explains that!

'Kita

I'll miss you Michael. Will you be gone long? Then she had looked at him with those blue eyes. Blue Fire had burned into him, had blazed through his soul and he had forgotten the conversation until it was too late to pursue it.

The door next to him opens, yanking Michael back to the present.

Operations exits the room, his scowl even more exaggerated, his hand playing with his left cuff again.

"Lunch." Operations barks.

Michael follows silently behind and listens to Operations mumble and complain about his missing cufflinks.

* * * * *

Scamper Scamper Scamper Snigger Snigger

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

"Well, Michael, how is the conference going?" Madeline asks and even through the modem-com her amusement is plainly audible.

"As you expected," Michael answers. Madeline had not talked to him about the conference, but Michael does not doubt that she is capable of predicting Operations' behavior.

Madeline smiles and says nothing in response to Michael's cryptic answer. "You will need to make contact with Birkoff. Although you are on vacation, you still have several missions you need to keep current on."

Hardly what I would call a vacation, Madeline. Michael simply nods and transfers to Birkoff's channel.

"Michael? ... Um, can you hold on a minute? I have to fix something first. Here, Nikita, you talk to him." Birkoff almost manages to transfer the video-com nonchalantly . . . almost.

"Michael?" Nikita whispers, her loveliness shining through the connection, making Michael tremble with a sudden desire to reach through the screen and pull her into his arms.

"Hello Nikita," he states, his voice slightly breathy as he strives for control.

"How's Scotland?" Nikita asks brightly, too brightly.

Michael frowns slightly as he remembers the strange conversation from earlier. "It's fine."

"Anything happening?"

"Such as?"

Nikita clears her throat and looks away for a moment, "Oh, you know. Anything exciting," she answers in her best air-head imitation.

"'Kita." Michael begins his interrogation.

"Oh, here comes Birkoff." Nikita smiles in relief, "Bye Michael."

Dammit!

* * * * *

Operations wakes up from a dead sleep fully alert, as a man with his training and years of experience should. Without changing his breathing pattern or opening his eyes, he searches the rooms with his other senses.

He can hear nothing that would have woken him, no footsteps, no creaking floorboards, no windows sliding open.

He can smell nothing that would have woken him, no body odor, no cloying or sweetly fragranced perfume or cologne, no alcohol.

He can feel nothing ... wait a minute, there is an unknown weight on the bed. Small subtle differences, his feet are slightly trapped by the blanket.

He continues to wait, to feel the air, the room, and soon he is rewarded by a slight shifting of weight at the foot of the bed.

As he opens his eyes slowly, so that he can get used the darkness, he remembers that he left the desk lamp on. The room is visible, though slightly shadowed.

His hand travels by increments under the pillow for the Glock he keeps with him, like a security blanket, always close.

Once his hand closes securely around the grip, he pounces. Operations sits straight up and points the Glock at the foot of the bed, "Hold it!" he yells.

There sitting on the bed are three distinct fur balls, one on each side and one between his feet. They are smiling, their teeth glittering in the dim light.

TRIBBLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Operations closes his eyes and rubs the lids with his index finger and thumb. Surely this can not be happening he whimpers to himself. Not TRIBBLES!

Opening his eyes slightly, he cautiously peeks down at the foot of his bed. There is nothing there. NOTHING, he reassures himself. That's it! I'm losing it.

With an unadmitted sigh of relief Operations lays back down on the bed and cradles the Glock against his chest.

* * * * *

Scamper Scamper Scamper - Giggle Giggle

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

The next morning Michael hesitates a significant amount of time before opening the door. He holds his breath as he silently prays that he will not be greeted by some horrendous sight this morning. His prayers are not answered.

Operations sits on the bed in his shorts and t-shirt, a mound of socks surrounding his feet as he curses in several different languages and looks at his foot. His big toes wave in the air, unsurrounded by the black cloth which covers the rest of his feet.

"Sir?"

Operations glares at Michael. "Look at that! Look! Every damn one of them. Dammit!" He sticks his foot almost in Michael's face. "Look!" Operations fumes, his voice rising.

Michael steps back instinctively. He prefers not to look at Operations' foot and his naked big toe. "Sir, you are going to be late," Michael answers.

"I can't go like this." Operations is aghast. "All of my socks are ruined." Operations moves his foot out of the air and looks disgustedly at his big toes. "First my favorite tie clasp, then my left cuff links and now this."

He glances up at Michael and his eyes slit as his voice turns crafty. "They are here, you know. I saw them last night. They are haunting me."

Paranoia or dementia? "Sir?"

"Them." Operations slaps his hands down on his thighs. He lowers his voice, "You know ... THEM. Those ... those ... fuzzy things. They're here."

Dementia. The form is a little cramped and Dementia is a smaller word. "Sir, we need to go."

Grumbling and waving his hands for emphasis every time he mentions "them" Operations dresses for his meeting with George and the other Section heads.

Michael silently follows him out of the room, a memory nibbling at his consciousness.

* * * * *

Nikita twirls her hair and chews her gum at a rapid pace, a dark mood settling on her. I hope they are behaving themselves. She chews her gum faster as she contemplates what they would do to Operations if they had him at their mercy. Oh Lord!

Still, she brightens a little no news is good news, isn't it?! Nikita shakes her head knowing she is grasping at straws.

* * * * *

www.uniquescotland.com Michael stiffens as the memory surfaces. He can remember the moment clearly, they were holding a council meeting regarding the Tribbles and Nikita had suggested that she thought the Tribbles were going on vacation. He remembers the Tech's scoffing at Nikita's suggestion and the bright red she had turned. Tribbles! No wonder Operations is going insane.

* * * * *

"Get me Nikita!!! NOW!!!!!" Operations bellows, a cache of ties dangling from his hands, each with a precise hole in the center.

Michael backs out of the room, striving to keep placid in the face of Operations' wrath. His mind starts working furiously on how to circumvent the coming disaster.

Giggle Giggle Giggle

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

Madeline steeples her fingers and looks at Nikita. "It appears that you are needed in Scotland." She waits for a reaction.

SHIT! Nikita nods. "When do I leave?"

"Can you think of any reason why Michael would send for you?" Madeline asks, a trace of admiration in her voice as Nikita betrays nothing by her posture, face or voice.

"I haven't been keeping up with the situation so, no." Nikita answers. Shit, Shit, Shit.

"Very well. You leave in about 30 minutes. I had wardrobe pull some clothes together for you. You will be picked up and taken straight to Operations." Madeline gives her a slight smile in dismissal.

Nikita nods and stands up to leave.

"Oh, Nikita?"

"Yes?"

"I trust you will ... be ... discreet."

????? "Of course."

Madeline watches Nikita leave her office while she thinks over Michael's latest report. Hmmm, maybe it's time for SPOT to make itself known again.

* * * * *

Operations prowls around the room, stopping to glare at Michael who has planted himself behind Nikita's chair. Protecting her again, Operations growls to himself.

"Well Nikita, I assume you know why you are here?"

Nikita stares at him. "No, Sir. Madeline just told me that you sent for me."

Operations sighs and glares at Michael again, who appears unfazed by it all.

"They are here."

"Sir?"

"They are here, I said."

"Who?"

"Them."

"Giant ants?" (obscure B Movie reference =>)

"No!" Operation huffs, "Those things with teeth."

"Piranhas?" This could be fun.

"NO! Those fuzzy things." Operations throws his hands out to his side.

"Furbies?" I wonder how long I can keep this up?

"With the hair." She is going to make me say it! Damn Michael, I should have cancelled her when I first wanted to.

"Trolls?" Look at that vein throb.

"Those fuzzy furry things with teeth!" Operations screams thoroughly exasperated.

"Fuzzy, furry, teeth?" Nikita scratches her head, "Critters?"

************ NT (Naughty Thoughts)

Nikita looks at the bed, looks at Michael and sighs.

Michael stands by the door and looks at Nikita who is sitting on Operations' bed.

Nikita tries, she really does, but seeing Michael just standing there watching her, watching her and not saying anything, just watching is so ... un-nerving. "Well? Are you going to say anything?" I know you know Michael and I know that Operations knows (even if he can't say it) and I know that you know that I know and I know that you know that Operations knows and I know you know that I know that Operations knows and that you know that Operations knows that you know that I know ... == WHOA! I think I pulled something.

What do you want me to say Nikita? That your little buddies have gotten you into hot water again? Hot water. Her skin flushed by the heat. Her naked body shimmering with moisture. Water cascading off her body, leaving behind an errant trail of soap bubbles; wet hair clinging to her skin like strands of golden wire. She squeezes a sponge, to send a sheet of soapy water trickling over her belly. Michael can clearly see Nikita shifting a little, making her breasts jiggle and causing an avalanche of bubbles from one rose pink nipple. Nikita's skin is creamy pink from the steaming bathwater; a frothing foam of soap bubbles glistening on every voluptuous curve. Even the golden thatch at the juncture of Nikita's smooth thighs would be dripping with tiny bubbles. The steam clouding the room, a fine mist settling as she steps out of the tub, like Venus' birth... === WHOA!

Nikita risks a glance at Michael and the goading words formed on her lips fall into a pit of nothingness as she glimpses the dark desires reflecting off of the pools of bottomless green that are Michael's eyes. She swallows. "Michael?" her voice a mere breath of sound.

Michael shudders as she speaks his name. Like a whisper in the dark, her voice throaty and tight. Her body trembling, delicate shivers rippling through her as he surges ... === WHOA!

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

A knock on the door saves either of them from having to explore the thoughts that are tightening Michael's jawline and distracting Nikita's attention lower.

A maid enters the room with a couple of sandwiches, a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses filled with ice. As Michael is signing the room service slip, the maid flirts with him a little.

"Do you like our little isle?" she asks as she twitches her skirt hem at him.

Nikita rolls her eyes.

"It's very nice," Michael replies in his "polite" voice.

"Haven't seen you around at the clubs," the maid tries again.

"No." Michael affirms.

"Will you being seeing some of the night life then? I'd be more than happy to show you around," the maid offers, her hand lightly caressing his arm.

Michael slants a quick glance at Nikita, who is leaning back against the bed, propped up on her hands, her blue eyes lasering the maid through the heart, and smiles very charmingly at the maid. "I don't think so. Not this trip," he emphasizes.

The maid throws a quick glance at Nikita and then smiles a pure the-cat-who-ate-the-canary smile at Michael. "I understand."

* * *

Nikita lays back on the bed, her heart pounding as she covertly watches the man lying next to her. Operations placing them on stakeout duty is a mixed blessing at best. Yes, it's great to spend time with Michael, unobserved by Section. Together in a room where they can say anything they want ... do anything they want; and no, Michael is in mission-mode and is acting as though there is a legitimate concern to be on stakeout duty.

Nikita unintentionally/intentionally sighs.

Michael rolls over on his side and propping his head up on one hand, looks at her. "Why the sigh?"

Nikita rolls her eyes, "Doesn't this strike you as a waste of time Michael?"

He merely looks at her.

"I mean. Here we are. Laying in bed. Waiting for something. Which Operations can not even describe, I might add. He's gone off the deep end you know."

"What are you saying, Nikita?"

Nikita sits up, "I'm saying, Michael, that there is obviously no Section reason for us to be here, in this place, now." Do I dare?

"And?"

Nikita swallows, gathers her courage and places a hand on his shoulder. When she gives him a little push it's like pushing at a rock. He looks at her hand and then in her eyes. Slowly, he allows himself to fall onto the bed, on his back. "I'm saying maybe we should make the best of the situation, Michael."

"How?" Do it Nikita! Show me you want me.

Exasperated by his obtuseness and her own timidity, Nikita places a hand on both of his shoulders and leans over him, her lips just brushing his. "Let's be here for our own reason. Let me love you Michael." She swallows his reply with her mouth, afraid to hear it.

YES!

YES!

Scamper Scamper Scamper

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

"Wait, wait." Michael breaks free from the kiss, turning his head.

Nikita stops, mortified that he is rejecting her and that she dared to chase after him like this.

Michael looks up at her blue eyes, involuntarily glistening in reaction to his seeming rejection. He stops her as she tries to slide away from him, too embarrassed to stay in contact.

"No, 'cher, it's not like that," Michael hastens to reassure her, stroking a hand across her cheek, his heart contracting at the look of uncertainty and pain on her face.

Nikita stills her almost desperate flight and looks into Michael's soft green eyes. She relaxes as she sees the guilt at the unthinking pain he has inflicted and the buried desire, put aside for the moment.

"We need to set the room up for surveillance, just in case," he whispers in her ear.

Nikita involuntarily shudders at the feeling of his breath on her delicate flesh. "Surveillance?" I can't believe he really means to go through with it.

Michael merely looks at her and climbs off of the bed. He moves the dinner tray to the bedside table, clicks the desk light on and turns off the overhead light. "Now get ready for bed," he orders her, his voice a husky whisper as he leans back against the door.

Nikita swallows as she realizes that Michael wants to watch her. She sits up and looks at him for a moment, wondering what would be the best way to react. Slowly she stands up and stretches, closing her eyes. Just ignore him. Just ignore him. She repeats the litany to herself.

She opens her eyes and walks over to the desk, forcing herself to not look at Michael. She pulls out the desk chair and sits down. Since she had already kicked off her shoes before she laid down, she only has to take her socks off.

Michael watches Nikita's cute toes appear and she wiggles them a little as she kneads them into the carpet.

Standing, she reaches for her shirt hem and pulls the knit sweater up over her head. As it naturally does, the t-shirt she is wearing under the sweater pulls up, partially exposing her trim stomach before it untangles and falls back down.

Nikita's belly button plays a quick game of hide and seek, tantalizing Michael. Sigh. How sensitive that little dip is, she squeals when I play with it.

Once the sweater is over her head, Nikita shakes her hair out of her face and pulls the sweater the rest of the way off. Flipping it right side out she drapes it across the top of the chair back.

Next she unbuttons the fly to her jeans and pushes them down her legs. Holding her jeans in one hand she snaps her panties back into place. She folds the jeans and puts them on the chair.

The skimpy satin panties hug Nikita's body, the puff of hair lightly outlined. Michael almost sighs with regret as she straightens the panties out. His fingers clench slightly at the faint sound of elastic snapping against taut skin.

Nikita pulls the t-shirt off and drapes it casually over the sweater. Her hands automatically divide her hair and draping the ends over her chest. I know he's watching. But he's so quiet. Is he enjoying this? Just ignore him. He asked you to do this and he hasn't stopped you yet.

Michael's mouth goes dry as Nikita's breasts and rosy nipples come into view and then are covered with a gossamer veil of her hair. All he can see are glimpses of her smooth skin and a little color now and then.

Clad only in a pair of panties, Nikita goes over to her overnight bag and roots around for a brush. She flips her hair over her head and starts brushing it from the back of her head to the tips of her hair. From under the cover of her hair she peeks at Michael, gratified to see the total entranced look on his face as his eyes follow her arm, sidetrack to her breasts, down her body and back up to her arm. His emerald eyes track her every movement, her every breath.

Finished with her hair, Nikita stands up and throws her head back, her hair flowing out behind her like a blonde ocean wave. Finally, she turns to face him, her face lightly flushed from the position and her hair fluffed out like a mane. Looking him straight in the eyes, she starts to pull down her panties.

Running his tongue across his lips, Michael croaks out, "Wait, wait."

Nikita stops and waits.

Michael moves closer.

Nikita trembles at the look in his eyes.

"Let me," Michael whispers.

Scamper Scam .... Screech

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

"No," Nikita whispers.

Michael stops. No? Is she rejecting me? I can see the desire plainly in her eyes.

"Your turn," Nikita indicates with a little twirling motion of her hand. "Undress for me."

Michael sighs inwardly with relief and glances at the sparkle of deviltry in her blue eyes. So she wants a show, eh? He reaches his hands up to the first button of his shirt and undoes it, never taking his eyes off of her. The second, the third, the fourth. He stops unbuttoning his shirt. The material parts just enough to afford her a glimpse of a hard muscular chest. A flat masculine nipple flirts with her.

Michael moves her pants to the desk and places one foot on the chair seat and bends over to unlace his boots. His shirt gapes open and his pants tighten.

Nikita's breath catches in her throat. Her eyes dart back and forth, restlessly, unable to decide where to stop and ... linger.

Michael's strong thighs are thrown into stark relief as the black material stretches tightly over them, highlighting them with its density. Every ripple and curve is emphasized by the clingy material.

As his hands work the bootlaces the muscles in his arms ripple with a lazy power.

Nikita plops down on the bed as her knees can no longer support her.

Dropping his shoes and socks to the floor, Michael stands back up, his fingers trembling at the look of hot desire burning into him.

He finishes unbuttoning his shirt and pulls it out of his pants. Inspired, he turns around as he pulls it off and flexes his back muscles a little extra as he drapes it across her clothes on the chair back. A soft gasp greets his display.

Turning around he sees Nikita's gaze has glazed over a little and her fingers are clenched into the quilt. Her soft white breasts are moving with an accelerated rhythm and her nipples have hardened to little spikes.

Surpressing a grin, Michael reaches for the button of his waistband and watches Nikita's attention rivet to his hands. Very s l o w l y he undoes the button, mostly for the teasing but also because his own excitement level has increased where he needs to move carefully or do himself injury.

The unzipping of his fly seems to take an eternity.

Finally, Michael is free of clothing and he greets the release of the stifling cloth with a little sigh of relief.

His arousal soars as he watches Nikita unconsciously caress her own breasts.

Michael steps forward, closer to the bed. He stops a foot away and leans over, his eyes capturing Nikita's. As he holds her gaze he reaches out a hand and touches the top of her panties. A tremble races through her body and she draws a deep shaky breath. Michael grabs the lace and with casual strength and blatant disregard rips Nikita's panties off of her.

Whisper Whisper Whisper

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

Michael pushes Nikita back onto the bed, his body pressing down on hers. Nikita cries out at the feeling of his hot, hard flesh lightly crushing her into the down filled quilt and the soft bed.

Michael's mouth captures hers, his tongue demanding and granted entrance. He strokes her tongue with his own, mimicking another act as he rhythmically rocks his hips against her.

Nikita parts her legs and Michael slides deeper between them, his erection burning her stomach as it throbs against her soft flesh.

Nikita whimpers into Michael's mouth and wraps her legs around him, sliding her feet down the sides of his legs.

Michael rocks against her, delighting in the moisture that is slickening the movement, a testament of Nikita's arousal.

Michael adds a roll of his hips to his movements and Nikita stiffens as a brushing sensation skims across her clit. Pleasure cascades through her and her foot kicks the night stand involuntarily. The ice in the pitcher and glasses clinks merrily, momentarily distracting her.

Michael breaks the kiss as he strokes little biting kisses across her jaw and to her ear. Nikita gasps in filling breaths and a glimmer of a wicked idea ripples through her. Taking Michael by surprise, she flips him over in mid-kiss. Smiling, she straddles him, her clit scraping across his erection to their mutual delight. She leans down and kisses him, lingering over the softness of his lips. She pulls back just as Michael reaches for her, to hold her closer. She smiles and shakes her head in admonishment. Michael lets his hands drop to the bed and Nikita leans forward to kiss him again.

Once again Nikita pulls back. Michael's blazing eyes reveal how desperately he wants her to continue but he does not make a move to capture her again. Nikita smiles and reaches into one of the glasses on the night table, grasping a piece of ice. Michael watches it glisten in the dim light. He is transfixed by the sight. The slick cube lightly grazes his skin just below the hollow of his throat, causing Michael to gasp with excitement.

Nikita's tongue follows behind the cool ice, burning a trail. The contrasting temperatures brings every nerve in Michael's body to life. He moans at the incredible sensation. Nikita takes her time, tracing the curves of his chest, moving torturously slow down his torso.

"Easy..." Nikita soothes, her fingers reaching down to carress him. Michael groans and forces his legs to relax.

"We have all ... night... long," Nikita whispers softly. Michael inhales sharply, regretting having taught Nikita patience.

Nikita sits back up and picks up another piece of ice. Michael watches mesmerized as droplets stream down Nikita's fingers, dripping onto his stomach.

Michael feels a wave of dizziness as he realizes that, like the ice, he is melting under Nikita's touch. Nikita slowly circles his erect nipple with the ice. Michael's shoulders snap back, causing his chest to jut forward, his nipples standing up provocatively. Nikita smiles and lovingly circles the hard points several times in succession. Michael shivers more from excitement than cold.

Nikita blows a stream of hot breath across one nipple as she tortures the other with ice and Michael ripples under her ministrations. Her tongue reaches out to encircle his flesh, suckling the now warm water off of his skin.

As Nikita reaches for the third ice cube, Michael trembles with too-long denied arousal and stops her hand. At the look in his eyes, the ice cube drops, forgotten.

Wrapping his strong hands around her waist, Michael pulls Nikita firmly astride his lean hips. Nikita closes her eyes at the feel of his blatant arousal burning into her. Michael raises Nikita up slightly and lowers her onto him, her soft body enclosing his arousal. Nikita gasps, her hands digging into his shoulders as the slow penetration is achieved as Michael surges upward. In one long powerful thrust he invades her clinging warmth.

Although Nikita is on top, it is Michael who sets the rhythm of their passion. Anchoring her at the waist, he moves within her, filling her totally and then withdrawing over and over again until Nikita is a shivering creature of pulsating desire.

"Michael, Michael PLEASE," she begs and nips a little savagely at his chest, her tongue immediately soothing the sting.

His driving passion is swamping her senses, leaving her unable to think. She can only feel, only react to the power in him as he holds her in place for his thrusting body.

Shimmering convulsions sweep up out of nowhere and shake her. Nikita gasps and trembles, her breath coming brokenly from parted lips, her whole body tightening as she is swept into a whirlpool of sensation.

Squirm Squirm Squirm

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

As her orgasm races through her, Michael stops moving and releases Nikita's hips and lets his fingers seek out the source of Nikita's heat. They slid teasingly around her opening, slowly circling the top of her entrance. Nikita cries out. She is wet . . . raw with need. The urge to rock her hips is overwhelming, but it is impossible for her to think clearly enough to push onto his questing finger.

As if in answer to her silent prayer, Michael presses one finger a scant few millimeters past Nikita's full, swollen entrance and pauses, watching Nikita twitch with anticipation.

Michael pushes in a little farther, then pauses again. Nikita shudders. Michael pushes just a bit deeper, wriggling his finger slightly in her clutching heat.

"I want every inch of you," Michael whispers hotly.

Nikita groans and throws her head back, teeth clenched. She manages to keep from crying out by expelling her breath in a deep hiss. She gasps as Michael's other hand reaches up and grazes across her aroused nipples tightening them even further. His hands sent a rush of heat to her very core.

Michael's finger continues it's slow progression inside her, until at last she is more than completely filled. Nikita moans, her pleasure is so acute.

Nikita's eyes cloud in an erotic haze, her lips forming one word, 'please.' Michael is keenly aware of her need and with a final tweak, he removes his hand from her breasts and places two fingers on Nikita's swollen clit, gliding through her wetness. At the same time he begins slowly pumping inside, taking nearly a full breath to push in completely then retreat. He massages Nikita's clit with a slow left and right motion in perfect rhythm with his thrusts.

"Ohhh, god Michael I...I can't..." Nikita hovers eternally on the brink of release.

"Hold back ... be patient."

Nikita takes a long shuddering breath and grits her teeth.

"That's it .... yes... hold back." Michael's voice is like a tender caress and Nikita strains to obey. She tries inching upward to escape the relentless fingers teasing her clit, but Michael moves with her, never ceasing his gentle stroking.

Nikita's breaths came in rapid pants. Despite her attempt to obey, she is going to come.

Michael senses the moment and lifts his fingers from her throbbing clit, yet he never ceases his rhythmic thrusts. They continue, relentlessly, penetrating Nikita's very depths. "You can sustain this arousal for a long time," he teases.

Nikita tries to ignore the friction of her lover plunging inside her slow and steady. It is impossible. Her clit continues to pulse, as if reliving Michael's gentle caress.

When Nikita again thinks she can no longer hold back, Michael changes his tactics, confusing Nikita's senses. His fingers play with her left nipple, firmly pinching it again ... and again ... and again. Nikita moans as she realized this action too, is meant to match her lover's thrusts.

Nikita tries to concentrate on the short bursts of pain assaulting her nipple and the wonderful tingling sensation that radiate through her breast, but the movement of Michael deep inside her refuses to be ignored. The tip of his finger curls slightly, creating an exquisite new pressure.

Nikita's body is awash with sensation. She can't escape it. Nothing can distract her from the release building inside her.

The fingers of Michael's hand once again find Nikita's clit and resume their relentless stroking. Nikita's entire body stiffens in a final attempt to hold back.

"Come for me," Michael commands.

Nikita sobs in relief. She groans and pushes her hips down, forcing Michael's finger deep inside. Michael meet her thrust for thrust as his fingers massage her swollen clit. With every movement, Nikita feels Michael's strength pass into her, accumulating in her core, until the pleasure overwhelmes her.

"Now," Michael urges. "Let go!"

Nikita's hips freeze in ecstasy as she comes in a series of jarring explosions. She shakes helplessly as spasms racks her body and braces against Michael as currents of pleasure course through her. Michael never stops. He draws out the climax with gentle caresses until Nikita cries out, giving in to him completely. Nikita's eyes pop open as she feels Michael's release, his essence joining with her. She is dimly aware of the smell of popcorn and the appearance of three tribbles on the shelf above the bed.

As the spasms subside, Nikita collapses, weakened by the force of her climax. Every few minutes her body trembles, remembering release.

Chew Chew Chew

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

"Well?" Operations paces in front of them.

"Sir?"

"Did anything happen here last night?" he bellows, his patience clearly gone.

Nikita strives not to blush as memories of what did happen last night flash through her mind.

"No," Michael answers, his voice cool and collected.

"No strange noises?"

Other than gasps, screams of passion and whimpers of desire? "No."

"Nothing squirming on the bed?"

Other than Nikita writhing in passion, pleading with her body for release? "No."

"Nothing fuzzy brushing up against you?"

Other than . . . WHOA Michael pauses, then answers, "No."

"Dammit!" Operations glares at them. I know something happened here last night. I can feel it. Why would Michael lie to me? Of course! Nikita! She is the only "thing" that has ever caused Michael to sway from his true path.

Fixing the evil eye on her, Operations turns his full attention to Nikita, "And you, Nikita. Did you notice anything, anything you want to tell me about, anything about last night?" He focuses his full attention on her, hoping to intimidate her into slipping up.

Nikita looks him straight in the eye and answers calmly, "No Sir. There is nothing I want to tell you about last night."

Snorting in disgust, I should have known. Those two together are stronger than any scare tactic I can come up with. Operations stomps out of the door.

Michael stands up, prepared to follow him and perform guard duty as usual.

At the door he turns, "Nikita."

"Yes, Michael."

"Make them stop."

Nikita remembers to close her mouth as the door closes softly behind his retreating figure.

Pace Pace Pace

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

Operations storms out of the conference, catching Nikita off guard, but, of course, not Michael. "Come on," Operations growls as he stomps down the hall.

Nikita waves goodbye to Helmut, Michael's guard mate, and follows behind Michael, who follows Operations at an unhurried pace and still manages to keep up with the muttering, wildly gesturing man.

Helmut watches Nikita until she turns the corner and sighs. What a . . . what do they call it? oh, yes . . . Babe. What a Babe!

* * *

" . . . and then George just looks at us all, after keeping us here for all of this time, away from our Sections, and says, 'Dismissed' and walks out. Can you believe it? What in the hell has this been about, then?" Operations continues to mutter, grouse, complain and generally whine to Michael, totally ignoring the fact that Nikita is in the room with them.

Michael wisely says nothing and lets Operations continue to vent and steam.

Nikita had opened her mouth once to answer a hypothetical question but Michael's quickly compressed lips and shake of the head had stopped her. Apparently Operations does this a lot.

"Go on, get out! You two are no help!" Operations roars.

Michael holds the door open for Nikita when Operations changes his mind. "Nikita. You stay for a moment. That is all Michael," Operations hurriedly says, cutting short any objection Michael might present to Nikita staying behind.

Michael nods and leaves the room with one quick inscrutable glance at Nikita.

Nikita closes the door and clasps her hands in front of her, unconsciously adopting a 'patient Michael' pose.

"Now then, Nikita, I'm just a little curious about last night . . ." Operations' voice trails off as he tries to encourage her to confide in him.

Yeah, right. Nikita just looks at him.

Operations sighs, She's getting pretty good at this. "Yes, last night. I feel that you are not telling me everything that happened."

Pervert.

"Are you sure you didn't encounter anything unusual, anything strange, anything that ... perhaps you've seen before, but it's been awhile?" Operations tries leading her.

Unusual, no. Strange, no. But it has been a while.

"No sir. Everything was . . . just what I expected HOPED last night."

Operations looks into her clear blue eyes and refuses to believe that anyone could look that innocent. I have nothing but a gut feeling to go on and that's good enough for me, but unprovable. It's pretty obvious that neither one of them will slip, and, definitely, neither of them will turn the other over, so . . . "Very well. Dismissed. We have one more night in this hell hole and then it's back to work."

Nikita nods and leaves Operations' room.

Michael just 'happens' to be just around the corner.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes."

"What did he want?"

"He wanted to know what happened in the room last night."

Michael nods as his suspicions are confirmed. He waits for a moment and when it looks like Nikita isn't going to volunteer, "And?"

Nikita smiles brilliantly, "I told him. In glorious detail with full surround-sound reproduction," she answers in a serious tone.

Giggle Giggle Giggle

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

Nikita folds her hands beneath her head and looks at the ceiling. This bed ... if you can call it that ... could possibly be a little wider, but then I guess it would crowd out the brooms being stored in this closet.

She sighs and rolls over ... carefully ... and looks at the door which is also a wall to this closet. Well, at least I got Michael, Nikita giggles to herself remembering the slightly panicked look that had fluttered across Michael's face as Nikita lied to him about Operations' little chat. Haaa! Take that! she gleefully recalls. Still, small consolation for being alone tonight. SIGH

* * *

Michael leans back against the wall, tipping the chair he is sitting on slightly. He is sitting in the hallway outside of Operations' bedroom on 'guard duty.' Wait until I get you alone, Ms. Surround-Sound Reproduction.

Once again he scans the darkened hallway, more out of habit than concern. I know Nikita talked to them, so maybe Operations will have an easy night and allow the rest of us to, also.

Michael smiles slightly as his mind replays last night, then slips into elaborate revenge scenarios which all include Nikita wrapped around him promising to be 'good'. Suddenly he sits bolt upright, the front legs of his chair thudding onto the floor. Oh No! What if Nikita did talk to them?

* * *

Operations jerks in his bed at the sound of a muffled thud. There is nothing there. Nothing. No fuzzy, creepy crawlies just waiting for me to go to sleep to slither over my unconscious body, to approach with fanged teeth nearer and nearer my throat ... he shudders.

Operations mutters and sits up, banging on his pillow, bending it and twisting it, trying to fluff it up. Sighing exasperatedly, he lays back down. I know they are out there, just waiting ... waiting ... waiting. the soft litany lulls him to sleep.

* * *

Operations feels them at his feet, crawling over him, advancing. Groggily he reaches under his crumpled pillow, searching for his Glock. Dead with sleep and with eyes only half-open, he sits up, aiming the Glock right between those fuzzy little eyes. There, just ahead, one of them! It's huge!!

BANG!!

Silence Silence Silence

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

T2ologue

Nikita silently exits the van, looking neither left nor right. Her face is flushed and her eyes are red and glimmering.

Michael watches her walk away and sighs. He knows there is nothing he can do for her and that it's best if she just removes herself from Operations' presence.

Operations walks slowly out of the van, his steps careful. He does not pause to talk to anyone and virtually ignores Madeline who looks at him in surprise.

Madeline glances at Michael but her pupil has learned too well and he reveals nothing in his expression. With a slight smile of success, Madeline hurries after Operations.

* * *

"Hey Sugar."

"Hi Nikita, how was Scotland?"

"Hi Walter, Birkoff. Scotland was . . . fine."

Walter leans forward, closing the space between them. He glances to the left and then the right making sure they won't be overheard. Birkoff leans in to hear. "So what's going on with Operations? What happened?"

"What do you mean, Walter?"

"Oh come on Sugar, you've seen him. What happened?"

"His gout flared up."

Birkoff and Walter glance at each other, puzzled.

"What? When did he get gout?" they ask in tandem.

Nikita attempts to look innocently at Walter but is unable to hide the sparkle in her eyes. "You know, his Glock Gout," she bursts out laughing.

* * *

Meanwhile in Scotland . . .

Giggle Giggle Giggle Snort Giggle Giggle

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