| Subject: Chapters 4-6 |
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Sanlin
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Date Posted: 11:37:43 03/28/01 Wed
In reply to:
Sanlin
's message, "It's Absurd (crosspost from Leigh's AU/HR Board)" on 11:24:57 03/28/01 Wed
Chapter 4: Back At The Ranch… (Rated ‘R’ for suggestive, adult situations)
Nikita sat on her couch, sipping a glass of red wine. The sweet, aromatic vintage always left her palate with a smooth, slightly wooden aftertaste. It was one of the habits she’d acquired from her former mentor and habitual, sensual tormentor, Michael. She was still coming down from her heady telephone exchange with the very naughty and very creative Elmo. If only Michael would talk to her like that.
The sound of someone knocking softly on her front door startled her out of her reverie. She set down her wineglass. Because she was dressed only in panties and a sports bra, she pulled on a long, white silk blouse, low-cut with flowing sleeves, before walking over to her security panel.
When she pressed the button to see who was at her door, however, the screen remained black.
Alarmed, Nikita retrieved her handgun and loaded a clip. She stood away from the door, tense and alert, in case potential hostiles tried to force entry.
"Who is it?" she asked cautiously.
"Nikita. It’s me. Let me in."
Only one man had a voice like that; soft, sexy, and French. "Michael? Is everything all right? My security camera’s not working."
"I know. I disabled it."
Nikita’s eyes widened. "You…? What do you want, Michael? It’s late."
"Please, Nikita…" His voice sounded different, softer. More… vulnerable?
Nikita was intensely worried, at this point. What evil, insane criminal or ruthless terrorist had captured Michael and forced him to come here? Who was with Michael on the other side of that door?
"I… I want… a…. cookie!" Even through the closed door, Nikita could hear the need, the thick, sensual desire, in Michael’s voice.
What was going on? Cautiously, Nikita opened the door.
He was standing there, all alone, as she’d never seen him before. Cute, vulnerable, warm… fuzzy…
"Ni-ki-ta. Please… Give me a cookie! Num… num…num" The 5’ 11" ‘Cookie Monster’ leaned against Nikita’s doorjamb looking suave and self-possessed. His head was uncovered but the rest of him was concealed in a fuzzy blue costume and he munched comically on one of Birkoff’s purloined goodies. He reached into the bag of Oreo cookies and deftly divided another cookie in two. Skillfully, he licked the white cream center. Slowly and erotically, he devoured it with his long, sensual tongue.
"Would you like a cookie, little girl?" Michael asked seductively. He split another cookie in half, and then placed the part with the filling partway between his lips. Leaning forward, he offered the treat to Nikita.
Moaning softly, she leaned forward and took the cookie into her mouth. Michael’s hot tongue followed sweetly, exploring the exotic mixture of Nikita’s mouth and cookie crumbs. One of his furry ‘hands’ strayed up under Nikita’s blouse and tickled her stomach. His other hand prudently disarmed her, taking control of her handgun.
Michael embraced Nikita. He stroked his fingertips along her back. Her skin felt as soft as an angel’s wing beneath his concealed, sensitive hands. Groaning appreciatively, he nuzzled her delicious, exposed neck. Kissing the hollow of her throat, he nipped possessively at the sensitive area concealing her pulse, which she naively exposed to him. Feeling her heartbeat growing erratic under the dutiful attention of his lips and teeth, he redoubled his efforts, licking the long, graceful curve of her neck.
Nikita tilted her head back permissively and sighed at the sensations Michael’s amorous attentions were creating in her. His tongue burnt trails of fire along her skin. His body pressed closely against her, making her feel as though butterfly wings were brushing against her stomach.
He moved his kisses carefully downward, until his lips brushed the tops of her partially exposed breasts, exquisitely nestled in their bed of soft, white silk.
Nikita moaned heatedly, then giggled, returning to her senses as Michael’s ‘fur’ tickled her face, neck, and chest. Grabbing ‘Cookie Monster’ by his furry chest, she began pulling him into the apartment.
Michael stopped her momentarily, freezing her in place with his hypnotic, beryl-and-sapphire eyes. "One moment, Nikita. I have some material to carry in. Then we can continue this conversation… inside."
Something about the way he stressed that last word, his accent thick with the promise of intense, luscious, soul-burning passion, made Nikita shiver slightly in anticipation.
Only then did she notice the bags and boxes lining the hallway. "Michael, what is all this stuff?" She stared at the costume, made the connection, and asked, "How did you know? Does Section have me under surveillance again?"
"No, ‘Kita. I plead guilty to the lesser charge of eavesdropping. I’m sorry. I came to invite you for coffee, and overheard…"
"Elmo!"
"Yes." The ‘Cookie Monster’ did his best to look sorrowful and contrite.
Nikita had to laugh at the result. His face, nestled above the tangled blue fur of his costume, twisted into a rather comical pout.
Michael held out both his wrists in front of him and said; "You can slap the cuffs on me, if you like."
"Ohhh." Nikita thought about that one, for a moment. "Maybe later. Let’s get this stuff inside. I want to see what’s under all that… fur."
************
Chapter 5: Set-Up
Inside Nikita’s apartment, after placing Nikita’s handgun on the kitchen counter, Michael quickly began removing his Cookie Monster costume.
Nikita was almost disappointed, until she saw what he was wearing underneath.
Michael sported a black pair of silk boxer shorts decorated with tiny versions of the wide-eyed, orange-furred monster Elmo. Over top of the boxers he wore a black T-shirt with white lettering that read, "Tickle THIS, Elmo!" A large white arrow pointed downwards, towards a part of Michael’s anatomy Nikita would definitely like to get reacquainted with…
Michael went out into the apartment hallway and returned with some bags and packages.
He handed Nikita a bag containing three videotapes. She read the titles: ‘Trading Places,’ ‘A Fish Called Wanda,’ and ‘Nine ˝ Weeks’.
"Movies?" she asked curiously. She had only recently acquired her TV set and VCR. Not for the first time, she wondered where Michael obtained some of his Intel.
"Don’t rewind these, just watch them," Michael instructed. "When you’re done, put on the outfit in this bag. I have some… preparations… to make."
"Don’t be long," Nikita admonished. She grabbed Michael by the front of his T-shirt and pulled him to her for a searing kiss that extended into a slow, deep interrogation of his lips and mouth, seeking out the truth behind his mysterious words and actions.
He swallowed audibly and licked his lips, the sweet taste of her lingering inside his mouth. "I won’t,” he promised.
Nikita sighed and put the first tape, ‘Trading Places,’ in the VCR. She pushed play and settled back to watch.
An actress, Nikita recognized her as Jamie Lee Curtis, was on a train, dressed in an outlandish costume. She looked like a European hiker, or an overgrown Girl Scout. The actress spoke in a false Swedish accent, saying, "Hello! My name is Ing-gah! Please to be helping me with my rook-sack…?"
Nikita watched the rest of the scene and then switched to ‘A Fish Called Wanda’. Jamie Lee Curtis—again!! This time, sharing a scene with John Cleese. Nikita began to harbor a secret suspicion Michael might just have a thing for Jamie Lee…
Nikita watched the scene where Jamie Lee’s character became incredibly turned on by Cleese’s character speaking different languages; Italian and Russian. Nikita thought of Michael’s irresistible French accent and grinned in spite of herself. ‘That devil,’ she thought. ‘He knows. He realizes what that soft, purring accent of his does to me!’
Lastly, Nikita turned to ‘Nine ˝ Weeks.’ Joe Cocker’s song, "You Can Leave Your Hat On," played in the background of the scene as Kim Basinger’s character did a striptease for a very interested Mickey Rourke.
‘Oh, really!’ Nikita thought. Perhaps she could give Michael a little strip and a tease later on.
When the scene was finished, Nikita looked in the other bag and pulled out her costume. It was a replica of the Swedish hiker’s outfit worn by Jamie Lee Curtis in ‘Trading Places,’ complete with a rucksack. A CD of Joe Cocker’s "You Can Leave Your Hat On" rested at the bottom of the bag.
Nikita braided her hair into ponytails, tying them with colored ribbons, and slipped into the costume, rucksack and all. She placed the CD in her disc player, but didn’t start the music yet.
"Oh, Miii-chaael!" Nikita called sweetly. "It’s time for a little break…"
************
Chapter 6: Leave Your Rucksack On (NC-17)
Michael stuck his head around the corner. "I’m just…" He saw Nikita in the Swedish hiker’s outfit and froze in place, motionless, breathless; a statue commissioned in honor of Nikita, the Goddess of Beauty.
His eyes shimmered like emerald pools of light. He blinked a few times, slowly regaining the power of speech, and stuttered, "It can…wait."
Michael entered the living room and, rather shakily, took his place on the couch as Nikita rose, went over to the CD player and started the music.
She gazed at Michael enticingly, her startling blue eyes sparkling and seductive. In a mock-Swedish accent, she said, "Please to be helping me with my rook-sack?"
Nikita started removing the rucksack, quickly, but Michael grinned, his gaze moving from her eyes, to her lips, and back again, saying, "No. Slowly. Perform for me."
Michael’s words echoed ones he’d once spoken under much different circumstances. This time, however, there was only Michael to perform for and Nikita was happy to oblige. She locked eyes with Michael in a burning, sensual stare and began a slow, erotic striptease.
In the background, although it was difficult to concentrate on anything but Nikita, Michael heard the music, "You Can Leave Your Hat On,” playing:
Baby, take off your coat—real slow.
And take off your shoes—I’ll take off your shoes.
Baby, take off your dress—yes, yes, yes.
Nikita kept time to the music as she slowly peeled off pieces and layers of her costume, tossing each garment at Michael in increasingly suggestive and seductive ways. She licked her lips; moved her hands up and down her body, sensually; and then turned around and offered Michael a nice view of her… ‘rucksack.’ After that display, Michael’s mind automatically altered the song lyrics from ‘hat’ to ‘rucksack’ as the music continued.
You can leave your rucksack on.
You can leave your rucksack on. You can leave your rucksack on.
Go over there. Turn on the light. Hey, all right.
Come over here. Stand on that chair. Yeah, that’s right.
Raise your arms in the air. Now, shake them.
You give me reason to live. You give me reason to live.
You give me reason to live. You give me reason to live.
By the time Nikita got down to wearing only her panties, sports bra, rucksack, and a smile, a tiny sound escaped unwillingly from the back of Michael’s throat.
Nikita’s smile widened. She’d heard that sound before. It was a small whine, a famished whimper. The sound a lovable mutt makes when begging for a bone.
She released the clips on her bra and tossed it to Michael, playfully.
His whimper deepened to a moan. He held the clothing, still warm from being next to Nikita’s flushed and flexible body, against his nostrils and inhaled Nikita’s intoxicating, primal scent. A deep growl rumbled low in his chest and his green eyes took on the feral aspect of a hunting panther.
Nikita, oblivious to the danger, danced closer to Michael. She took his trembling hands in hers and invited him to touch her.
This nasty talking: they try to tear us apart.
They don’t believe in this love of mine.
They don’t know what love is.
They don’t know what love is. They don’t know what love is.
They don’t know what love is. Well, I know what love is.
Michael groaned, his body quivering in anticipation. He ran his fingers, his touch as light as silk, up and down Nikita’s warm, yielding body and stroked his fingertips over her hips, thighs, and stomach. He moved his questing lips gently over Nikita’s delicately swaying belly, covering her body with a cascade of kisses, each one increasing in length and passionate intensity. Abruptly, he darted his hot tongue into her navel, startling her. She cried out as Michael licked slow, lingering circles around her bellybutton then lightly bit into her sensitive flesh.
"Michael!" It was Nikita’s turn to moan and feel weak in the knees. She pulled Michael’s head, with its soft, curly auburn hair, against her firm stomach. Nikita laughed as Michael struggled weakly and his hair tickled her exposed flesh.
She gasped as Michael moved suddenly upwards, taking one of her breasts between his teeth and tugging it, playfully. He teased her nipple with his tongue until it ached with hardness. Simultaneously, he caressed her other bud, brushing it softly with his long, sensitive fingers.
As Nikita’s brain struggled to sort out the conflicting impulses of soft and hard, Michael skillfully moved his searing tongue downwards, like a ribbon of liquid flame over her eager flesh. She moaned her approval, arching her body against his efforts as he licked her navel fondly in passing. He slid his fingers under the edges of her panties, pulling until they pooled around her feet and she stepped out of them. Her voice caught in her throat as Michael’s lips descended further still, until his tongue found her warm, wet entrance and teased inside of her.
He stroked into her deeply, reaching out with one of his fingers to sweetly torture her pearl as his tongue delved hotly into her, stroking against her walls and sensitive flesh. She resisted the siren’s call of his sharp, finishing strokes as long as she could, loving the feel of him inside of her, then wrapped her fingers into his silken locks and cried out his name, shuddering and trembling against his mouth. Pulsating waves of pleasure radiated from her inner core, overtaking her senses and she leaned against his hard, warm body to keep from falling.
Nikita let Michael continue his ministrations a few moments longer. She groaned in pleasure and received answering moans from her devoted lover. Delicious warmth and pleasurable aftershocks spread through her body.
When she felt steady enough to move, again, she laughed and danced away from him; retrieving her panties, slipping them on and cheekily flashing him her backside, which peeked out at all the right angles.
Please tell me:
You can leave your rucksack on.
You can leave your rucksack on.
Baby, you can leave your rucksack on…
She twirled the rucksack off her bare, creamy shoulders, tossed it to Michael and bowed theatrically. Her long, blond hair swept forward, concealing her laughing face and hiding her hard, peaked breasts from his sight for a moment.
Michael closed his eyes and sighed. The private performance, as deeply moving as it had been, was over.
As soon as he could speak again, Michael said, "Wait here, Nikita. I’m going to program some CD’s on the disc player. Watch the movies until I call for you. Then start the CD’s and come for me."
"Don’t be long or I’ll start without you," Nikita teased, calling after Michael’s retreating form, which was already, Nikita noted with some amusement, moving rather hastily.
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