“So... why do you need me?” Nikita asked Madeline’s retreating figure.

“A new undercover mission” Madeline supplied with a slight smile over her shoulder. “Follow me.”

Through the gray Section interior they walked together, Nikita following a step behind. The dimly-lit hall lights, seemed to fade as they plunged deeper and deeper into the Section core. A squeaky twelve inch door opened, and Madeline bid Nikita to enter first.

Inside Nikita found Michael with a large pair of scissors standing over a huge porcelain basin. A forbidding metal chair with leather restraints was the only thing between the two of them.

“Michael will brief you further.” Madeline departed, shutting the door behind her with a resounding thud.

“Sit.” Michael ordered, pointing with the metal shears that he gripped like twin daggers.

“What’s going on?” Nikita asked crossing her arms in front of her, defiantly lifting her chin.

“I’m supposed to be a hairdresser.” Michael offered, looking down in apparent shame, “It’s been a while, and I need some practice.”

She succeeded in stifling her smile momentarily, before bursting into a fit of laughter. “SO, you’ve done this kind of thing before?” she chuckled, “A man of many talents.” She mocked with a sultry wink.

The corners of his mouth flashed upward briefly, before he opened and closed the scissors in a threat “Careful, or I’ll start practicing my crew-cut.”

“Go for it.” She challenged, her voice dripping with sarcasm added in amusement, “I’m sure Operations would be thrilled.”

Nonplused, he tilted his head toward the chair, and she reluctantly climbed in.

Time stood still as his hand crept along her scalp, massaging the tightened muscles of her neck. and leaving her body a mass of tingling flesh. She hardly realized the little moans that occasionally escaped..

She opened her eyes to find him inches away from her. She steadfastly resisted the urge to pull him the remaining inches to her lips. Instead she redirected her thoughts. “Michael, customers typically prefer their stylists to be somewhat congenial. Perhaps you should brush-up on your small talk.”

“These clients are different.” He replied , shifting his gaze to stare intently at the wet tangles of hair, dripping sudsy puddles on the floor.

“How different?” She inquired, crinkling her eyebrows.

“They’re dogs.” He dipped his head to hide the smile that threatened to surface.

She sat up nearly colliding her head with his. The angry shaking of her head sent thousands of soapy droplets cascading outward. “Why are you practicing on me?” She demanded.

She slid out of the chair, he grabbed for her arm. They struggled with each other, but the soapy water proved a much more formidable foe. They landed in a heap on the floor.

Nikita landed topside. The warmth of her thighs straddling his waist served to momentarily render Michael senseless. Her Fingers reached for the scissors; and before Michael could react , Nikita snipped a handful of curls, cutting close to his scalp. Letting the handful of brown locks land softly on his face, a triumphant chuckle escaped her lips.

Michael blinked away the hair in shock. Shifting his hips upward, he rolled her, clamping her wrists with his hands.

Prying the shears from her hand, he gloried in his superior positioning momentarily before pulling a long strand of blond hair over her face. He chopped through it, cutting unevenly. Nikita screamed at first, but then dissolved into laughter as she viewed her handiwork on Michael’s hair. Her reaction brought him struggling to his feet and reaching for a mirror. While he surveyed the damage, she crawled to the wall, sliding to the retreat of the doorway.

Hand on the door handle, The young female operative froze as Michael turned with fiery hazel eyes , pinning her against the wall.

“Michael, it’s not that bad,” she started stumbling over the words, piling excuse atop each other as he advanced upon her position. She tugged at the door, but his stalwart arm pushed it firmly closed. She smiled weakly, trying not to laugh at the stubbly new hair line that she had created for him.

Sensing that leaving was not an option, Nikita tried to move past Michael, but he shoved her against the wall, lifting her so she stood on tiptoe. With one blinding movement Nikita found herself in the chair. After a few minutes of useless struggling, she was firmly strapped. The clicking sounds of scissors and the light fall of her hair hitting the floor was all she heard for the next few minutes.

She felt the restraints loosed, and her hand flew immediately to her hair. It was cut shoulder length and layered in soft curls. He held the mirror for her, and she looked approvingly at her new style. It was becoming. He flipped her around, letting her hold one mirror while he held another. Written on the back of her hair “I obey Michael!”

She gasped, making a wild rush for the scissors, but he was quicker. He dragged her out of the chair, pulling her roughly against him.

Both operatives were still wet from their tumble, and they slid more than walked the Section corridors. Passing operatives stopped and stared, as the newly shorn Michael and hair-weaved Nikita made their debut. A few clapped their amusement and approval.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, Michael heard a loud uproar in the Section. It sounded like a hundred dogs had suddenly taken up residence inside Section walls. In shock he surveyed the briefing room, filled with howling dogs barking loudly at each passerby. Operations shouted over the intercom, “Michael what is the meaning of this?”

“I don’t know.” He answered weakly, as truly he had no idea how twenty plus dogs had found their way five hundred feet underground.

“It says here that Bivoue’s grooming delivered these mutts to you, personally.” Operations held the sheet to the window.

Michael shrugged and looked around. He found an amused Nikita, leaning against the wall for support. She blew him a kiss, and walked away.

Send suggestions and comments to Wrigley