| Subject: Chapter 4: Back At The Ranch… (Rated ‘R’ for suggestive, adult situations) |
Author:
Sanlin
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Date Posted: 09:44:20 12/05/01 Wed
In reply to:
Sanlin
's message, "Welcome everyone :-D and a repost of "It's Absurd"" on 18:05:34 12/01/01 Sat
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."
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