Michael lay once again in the arms of the only woman who truly fulfilled him, who cherished him and completed him. Even though he enjoyed the others, she alone satisfied him totally.

He had whisked her away to this five-star hotel, cleverly managing to distract the others with the help of Walter and Birkoff. They had used their high-tech and sophistocated abilities to lure them away so he could be with his Beloved.

"Oh, Michael!" she groaned, as he kissed the velvety skin on her ..... shoulder. "How did you get them away from us?"

He was so clever, so devoted, thought Lorraine.

Michael gasped and breathed the answer in her ear, his breath as hot, sweet, and French as the large loaf of "bread" filling her.. No, she thought. Wait, make that as hard, hot and punishing as his pounding bazooka.. DAMN, writing sex scenes is hard, she mused.

"What did you do to them, Michael?"

His green eyes glittered with desire. "Nikita..." he breathed.

No! Not that name! Lorraine thought to herself.

"Nikita507," he gasped. "Loving2000.." he moaned.

"Oh!" said Lorraine. "The drug she created that turns people into mindless love slaves? The drug I wanted to use on you?"

"Oui," he groaned. "I put it in their cheesy poofs..."

"You left them, all the story board writers, enslaved to Birkoff and Walter?!" she gasped.

"No,no, ma cherie, You should know me better than that by now." He groaned again. "They're slaves to my clones.."

"Oh, Darling, how sweet!" she murmured, feeling slightly less guilty.

"Lorraine," he begged, groaning. "Tell me what else I can do to please you? What will send you over the edge of fulfillment?"

He shuddered. "I want to give you the ultimate pleasure.."

Michael delighted in being with Lorraine. She wasn't as kinky as some of the others. Other than a few scenes with handcuffs, she didn't require him to wear leather, be whipped, spanked, or covered with fishy-poofs. She was an old-fashioned girl. He liked that.

But he read her signals, and he knew she had some deep need that must be satisfied, a fantasy he alone could fulfill.

"What can I give you, ma cherie, to bring you to ..... closure?"

"Oh, Michael!" she moaned. "Just say that word. Say it! Just say it and I'll be lost in ecstacy!"

Michael hesitated. "ssszzJoseFeeeeen..." he cried out.

"No, no, not that! Say it! Say it!" she begged.

Michael doubled his efforts. "I thought I'd lost you!" he groaned. "It wasn't all a lie!"

"No! Say it! In French! SAY IT!" she screamed.

He began reciting lists of vegetables in French. His breathing labored, his muscles straining, he moaned in her ear the list, but none of his words brought her to sweet release.

He expanded his lists to fruits. Then, when that had no effect, he added desserts made with fruit.

"Cherries Jubilee!" he gasped. "Apple sauce! Prune whip!"

"No! Michael, please! PLEEEAASE!!!!" she moaned.

He tried what had inspired Scoo to frenzied lust. "Take your clothes off! Perform! Obey! Sit! Heel! Roll over!" he screamed. "Whip me! I've been a bad boy!"

"No, say what melts us, turns us into your quivering, mindless, blithering, helpless sex slaves! SAY IT! God, just please SAY IT!"

Michael wondered if he should mention laundry carts. That had worked before with women, and quite well. But then he realized what Lorraine needed. This was the LFN story board, after all. It was Michael they wanted. Michael at his sexiest, most adorable, most vunerable...

"Lyons!" he bellowed. "LYONS! LYONS! LYONS!!!"

Their mutual screams of delight intermingled as did their bodies as both felt the fireworks, the flames, the thunder, as his bazooka fired off....

Afterwards, they lay exhausted in each other's arms. Lorraine stroked his hair. Michael contentedly caressed her flannel.

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

"What's wrong, my Love? What do you want to tell me?" she said gently.

Michael looked at her in admiration. "Hopposai was right about you..."

She tensed. "What do you mean? I never wear heels! or leopard skin! or too much jewelry! Well, maybe sometimes..."

"No, not about that. He was right about your being sensitive and psychic." He looked pleadingly into her eyes. I need your help. And I hope you'll forgive me when I tell you that...

"That you were playing a game with us? That you lied to us about the mission?" Lorraine answered.

"Yes, I'm sorry. How did you know?"

"Intuition. Gut feeling." She kissed him. "That guilty expression on your sweet little face..."

He gave her his best "hurt Spyboy" look. The one with the tears glistening in his eyes and his lips almost pouty.

Her heart melted. "O.K.! O.K.! I forgive you! Sheeesh, I can't stand it when you do that..."

"Lorraine, I tricked you and the all the writers. I lied to you. But now I need your help", pleaded Michael.

"Tell Mama all about it," she invited.

Michael sighed and got up from the bed. He paused to pick up his robe.

She sighed, too, at the beautiful sight he presented.

"Hey, man, nice shot!" she told him.

He turned and smiled at her. The robe gaped open in the front, displaying his weapon. She smiled back. (O.K., it's MY fantasy, right?)

He came back and sat next to her on the bed. Looking deeply into her eyes, they communicated without words.

Lorraine sighed. "O.K., this is where I'm supposed to figure out what in the hell you mean by that look. Here goes. It's about the tracker, isn't it?"

"You ARE psychic!" He looked impressed.

"No, Silly, I'm the AUTHOR--- that makes me ONMISCIENT, not PSYCHIC...."

For a smart guy he could be kinda clueless sometimes.

"Oh!" he said. "I finally get it. I finally know.."

"Just explain about the mission," she said.

"Well, I, uh, was wearing this new one-of-a-kind tracker prototype hidden upon my person to test it when I received the assignment to recruit all the story board writers-- Enjoue, Zzoomama, Red, Lady, Catsma, Ursula, Nikita507, Scoo, Ranma, Kate, 'chelle, Norma, T'nt..."

Lorraine touched his cheek. She remembered that night fondly. How he had loved her bunny slippers. How he had taken her into the laundry room and "recruited" her all night long. She sighed.

"You were saying?" she said.

Michael looked embarrassed. "Since I've been with all of you, recruiting you, torturing you, savoring your fishypoofs...." He paused.

"Yes, go on?"

He hung his head. "I lost it. I can't find the tracker. I.... I had to..."

Her eyes widened. "You had to come back and SAVOR us again! To look for the tracker! You never cared about us at all!" She sobbed. "It was all a trick!"

"No! No, my little rutabaga, no..."

Michael groveled at her bunny slippers. "I adore you, please.." he begged. "Let me clean your house, mow your yard, anything! Order me to please you..."

"That's better," she said approvingly. "Let me get this straight. You lost the tracker and if you don't return it, they'll ...... cancel you?"

He nodded.

"Michael, why are you so sure one of your lovely story board ladies has it?"

"Because it was implanted in a certain body part of mine...." He blushed.

"The love tool?" she said. "The jackhammering, high-powered drill? The Uzi? The tree-licious hunk of wood? The dangling participle?" (author's note: this last thrown in for its educational value..)

"Yes, yes, THAT body part. And now it's gone.."

"It's becoming clear now," said Lorraine. "That's why you spent so much time with Zzoomama on your lap! And with that cute lurker, Tina..."

"Between us we cured her her of that.." he smiled.

She smiled back. "We'll help you, Michael. We'd never let anything happen to you..."

She paused, thinking... Lorraine remembered the laundry room again, and the thrill of his drill. That certain electricity.. that spark...

"Oh,no! Oh, no! Oh, no!" she cried.

"What?"

"I know where the tracker is," she said.

"You do? Where?"

She blushed. "I think your implant got implanted in me when you implanted your implant in my...."

"Then do you have it now?" Michael asked. He looked thoughtful. "But I didn't feel it--- and I did a very thourough search, too.."

"Yes, you did," she said, smiling fondly at him.

"Where is it now?" asked Michael.

"In China..."

"China?" said Michael bewildered. "But.. but that's where Ron is... Hey!"

Lorraine lowered her eyes in modesty. "I sent him off with a smile on his face," she said demurely. "It was my wifely duty..."

Michael gave her another "I'm cut to the quick" Spyboy look.

"Michael, don't be hurt.." Lorraine tried to explain. "I love him for all the same reasons I love you. The hair, the eyes, the lips, the butt, the sexy voice.." She sobbed. "Oh, God, I miss him so!"

Michael, still jealous and hurt, wanted to hurt her back. "Well, this means I'll have to search all the eligible women in China now for the tracker..."

Lorraine shook her head. "No, he's not like that. He'll have the tracker, I promise you."

Michael sighed. "All right. There's only one thing to do. Gather all the writers, call in the troops. I'll need all the help I can get. We're all going to see Ron..."

Lorraine smiled and clapped her hands together. Life is good, she thought.

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

On the plane on the way to China, Michael was determined to show his gratitude to all the women of the story board that had come along to help him. He went from aisle to aisle in the plane, kissing each of them on the cheek, murmuring sweet nothings, reciting lists of vegetables...

He even flirted with some lurkers who had stowed away in the back of the plane.

He was being Michael at his most charming.

But it wasn't enough. The crowd grew restless. "Hey, Michael!" piped up Catsma from the back. "We've seen Hard Landing! We've seen Obsessed! Hell, we've seen J'en Suis! Show us some skin, why doncha?"

There was a chorus of voices in agreement. Scoo leapt from her seat, cracking her whip. "Woohoo!! Baby!" she yelled. "Take it off! Perform for me!"

Everyone cheered. Michael realized he owed them. They were here trying to help him. He was fond of them, all these beautiful, intelligent, wise, and slightly kinky women.

He performed for them. For the inflight entertainment, he danced for them, graceful and lithe in his tutu. They cheered.

He continued entertaining them. He did a little Scottish jig in his kilt. He put on a fashion show, modeling G-strings and thongs and spandex, strutting his hard-bodied Spyboy self up and down the aisles.

Scoo particularly like him in the sweat pants with the rear cut out. That was her favorite.

"He's not wearing my favorite outfit," sighed Norma.

"What's that?" asked 'chelle.

They looked at each other. "SOAP!" they yelled in unison. "Nothing but SOAP!" They grinned.

"She's right!" someone yelled from the back. It was Ursula. "We want to see you in the shower wearing nothing but soap!"

"I'm sorry," said Michael contritely. "There's no shower on the plane. But if you give me a moment, I will try to provide you with something just as good.."

He disappeared into the galley area of the plane and they waited impatiently while they heard him opening the refrigerator and rustling a cellophane bag.

Michael returned a few minutes later. As he stepped in front of them, lurkers and writers alike gasped.

He had rolled himself in whipped cream. It covered his hard, muscular body from head to toe. Strategically placed here and there on the whipped cream were rainbow M&M's.

Nikita507 squealed in delight. "Oooohh, Michael's not just the in flight entertainment, he's the snack, too!"

"What are you talking about, Girl?" said Ranma. "That ain't no SNACK. That hunk of beefcake there is a full course MEAl..."

They cheered, and tasted, and licked, and licked some more, until there was no trace of cream or candies remained on his body. No shower was needed.

The plane landed with everyone tired, but definitely not hungry.

"Thanks, Lorraine, that was great," said Nikita507, reaching for her notebook. "Let's see. Clones, trackers, tutus, M&M's...."

"Nikita, damn it, focus on the mission!" said Lorraine. "Let's go find Ron!"

Everyone's eyes lit up. Ron sounded tasty, too.

Ron sat on his bed in his hotel room, all alone. He sighed heavily, looking at Lorraine's picture. God,how he missed her. Her flannel, so soft, her slippers, so fuzzy....

The door burst open and his room was invaded by the lovely story board women. Ron didn't mind. He noticed one particularly beautiful lady who was fluttering her eyelashes at him and licking her lips.

"Norma, is that you?" he asked.

Before she could answer, 'chelle pushed her way to Ron's side. "Hey, remember me? I'm the one who promised you a Buffy tape..."

Kate shoved 'chelle roughly back away from Ron. "Watch it,Sister!" She smiled sweetly at Ron. "I want to know if he has any brothers..."

Ron was enjoying the attention. He smiled. "Ladies, Ladies! There's enough for everybody!"

He looked around. "Where's that really hot blonde babe, what's her name.. Scoo?"

Scoo strode up to him in her black boots and rattled her handcuffs and cracked her whip. "Hey, Baby, you're going to get what you want if you OBEY Mistress Scoo..."

She shoved him on the bed and handcuffed him to the headboard.

The women eyed him. God, he was cute.

"Ron, got any whipped cream?" asked Nikita507, rubbing her hand on Ron's muscular thigh.

Lorraine had had enough. She slapped Nikita's hand away, and looked at all her fellow writers. They were greedily eyeing her husband.

She didn't blame them. She liked all these women. It was just that she was greedy, too, and didn't like to share her playtoys.

"Michael, help!" Lorraine cried.

"Ecoutez moi!" said Michael. The crowd hushed. Michael had spoken French! "He said "moi"!! Ohhhhoooohh..." swooned a lurker in the back of the room.

Michael continued in the silence. "This is an extremely sensitive mission. It requires skills I KNOW you all have. It requires intimate knowledge of certain practices you have all performed with me..."

Several of the ladies blushed and gave each other knowing looks.

"You'll have to be quick and accurate.." Michael continued. "Well, maybe not so quick.." He liked Ron, after all.

"You mean?!!" they squealed, looking at each other.

"Yes," said Michael. "You know what is required. The tracker can only be removed by...."

"I know! I know!" yelled one of the Canadian women who had already seen Mandatory Refusal. She jummped up and down in excitement.

"Emergency Suckage!"

The women's eyes gleamed at Ron, who squirmed in anticipation.

He looked at his wife. "I LIKE this story, Lorraine!" he said.

"Yeah, you would," she replied. "Remember this-- this is MY fantasy. If you want a different ending than mine, write your own, like Hopposai does!"

The crowd was getting eager and antsy. They pressed closer to the bed where Ron was handcuffed.

Lorraine grabbed Michael by the arm. "Michael, please! Distract them again!"

He looked at her tenderly. "Anything for you, ma petite cheezee pouffe.."

"Attention!" said Michael. "The mission parameters have changed. Lorraine will complete the mission on her own. The rest of you, come with me..."

They stared at him raptly as he pulled his hair back from his face and secured a hank of it at the crown of his head. He put on some really dark, really cool, sunglasses. Then Michael removed his long coat to reveal a short leather jacket underneath.

"OMIGAWD! It's Hong Kong Michael!" yelled Zzoomama.

"Yeah," said Caro. "Remember that strut through the hallway, his hair flying as he ran like a hard-bodied gazelle.."

"Oh, Lord," moaned the lurker. "He's sooooo hott..."

All eyes turned to Michael. "Follow me," he said, leaving the room to jump on his waiting motorcycle.

Michael winked at Lorraine before he left. The women raced out of the room, folowing him, swooning and screaming.

Ron and Lorraine were left alone in his bedroom. She smiled.

The mission was accomplished expertly and carefully. The tracker was retrieved to their mutual satisfaction.

Lorraine slipped the small device safely into her bunny slipper. She whipped out her cell phone and dialed Michael's number.

"Sequence completed," she reported.

"Good," said Michael. "I have further orders for you."

"You want me to come in?" she asked, depressed. She didn't want to leave China so soon.

"No," Michael answered. "Stay in Hong Kong and gather intel.."

Lorraine beamed. She had seen Hard Landing 20 times at least. She knew what "gathering intel" meant. Heh, heh.

"Whatever you say, Spyboy.."

She threw the phone down on the bed and picked up the paddle and the whip that Scoo had left behind in her haste to follow Michael.

Lorraine cracked the whip and slapped the paddle against her thigh.

"O.K., Studpuppy, you know what I want."

"O.K.! O.K.! Geez..." Ron relented. "O.K., Michael's jaw isn't deformed ..."

"And?" she said, raising an eyebrow and smacking the paddle again. "What else?"

"Yes, Lovemuffin, You do HAVE A LIFE!!!"

Lorraine smiled happily and released him from the handcuffs.

She sat on the bed next to him. "Well, what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. What do you want to do?"

They had been married for a long time. "Wanna go for chinese?" he asked.

"O.K.," said Lorraine.

Send suggestions and comments to ranma. OR
If you would like to send a comment to Lorraine click HERE!!