With a sharp movement, Madeline leapt off the Medlab bed, inconsiderately disconnecting all of Section's state-of-the-art medical equipment. Operations was so shocked, he just stood there.

She pulled off the EKG leads and threw them at the whining monitors. Few people had Madeline's presence. Even fewer could claim her air of command. In a hospital-issue johnny coat, no less.

Perhaps it was not the ideal dress for seduction. But then, this was no ordinary seduction. In fact, it hardly qualified as seduction at all.

Operations quivered before her. He was a strong man. That much was undeniable. But he was not a man who enjoyed physical confrontation, unless it led to sex.

This did not look promising.

Madeline ordered Operations to climb into the bed she had just vacated. He started to protest, but it was as if Madeline were waving a loaded gun. "I said, move, you writhing pile of camel dung."

She didn't need a loaded gun.

He lay on his back on the bed, wondering what she was going to do. She moved away from the bed for a moment, never taking her eyes off her prey. She pulled off the johnny coat, and for a brief second, she stood there, elegantly clad in nothing more than a pair of sheer lace panties.

It obviously made no difference to Operations that the woman was probably going to kill him. He was transfixed by the sight of her naked breasts. It had been a long, long time. Right after Nikita's attempted coup d'etat. Or was it before? It was hard to think.

It was just plain hard.

She reached for a bag behind her. It looked like an ordinary gym bag, probably filled with socks and sweatpants. But it wasn't.

Within moments, Madeline removed the contents of the bag. In another minute, she was dressed. In black leather. Buttery-soft black leather caressed her breasts, a fine silver chain draped from each, meeting in the middle at her navel, then disappearing into her groin. Her lower body similarly clad in black leather, Madeline looked ready for business.

She withdrew a short, but exquisitely sharp riding crop from her bag. Licking its length, she kissed the butt of the crop with full, pouting lips.

"Now what…do you suggest I do with this?"

Madeline rhythmically thumped the riding crop against her bare hand. Operations was mesmerized by the movement of the leather against her flesh. With each thump, her breasts, barely encased within their black leather harness, quivered enticingly. The silver chain, as fine as could be, caught the light, reflecting it back at erratic intervals to Operations' hypnotized gaze.

"Madeline…are you going to…punish me somehow?"

She considered that. "Don't you think you deserve punishment, Paul?"

"Oh, yes," he said, completely unaware of the pleading tone that entered his voice.

One elegant near-black eyebrow raised skeptically at him. Trailing a hand along the edge of the white-sheeted Medlab bed, Madeline said, "What I'd like to do…is put my booted foot right up your ass, Paul. How dare you treat me the way you have?"

"You're angry." Operations' voice sounded flat, but not resigned. As if he actually thought he might be able to manipulate his way out of this one.

"Angry? No, Paul. Try outraged. Try pissed off. Try—" She struggled to compose herself. Emotional lability was to be expected after the treatment she had received. For long moments, her positive emotions warred merrily with their negative counterparts.

The negative emotions won. Hands down.

She brought the end of the riding crop closer, and for a second, Operations was convinced that she wanted to caress him. He couldn't have been more wrong. Madeline's reaction was mere prelude to what she really wanted to do. She played restlessly with the crop, warming it with her hands.

"Are you going to beat me with that thing?" he couldn't resist asking. He never should have asked. It would have been much better not to know exactly what form his punishment would take.

"I don't suppose there's enough K-Y jelly in the world to shove this thing up your flatulent butt, but I'd like to try. The scientist in me wants to see if it could be done."

"Oh, Madeline…you still care."

"Oh, Paul… You're still full of crap."

She was so coldly angry, she was consumed by it. She did want to screw him, figuratively, of course, the way he always managed to screw her. The trouble was, it looked as if she would be granting him his fondest wish.

"I love it when you get aggressive, Madeline." Operations was distinctly aroused. Madeline curled her lip in disgust.

"Don't make me hurt you, Paul."

Operations knelt down in obeisance to Madeline. "Oh, would you, Madeline? Please?"

"If I do…will you promise to leave Michael and Nikita alone?" This was not an original thought of Madeline's, but a carefully programmed thought, courtesy of Michael, with Walter and Birkoff's magical help.

Operations nodded, looking vaguely like one of those long-necked birds that bobbed up and down in a glass of water. "Anything you say, mistress."

Madeline scowled. Why couldn't she find someone strong enough to take her full-strength and undiluted?

Pleasing Operations was the last thing on her mind. But her body seemed to have a will of its own. Perhaps it was really true. Beggars could not be choosers. There was hardly a line forming around the block for Madeline's favors. Especially since the incident with Michael and Nikita. Everyone moderately interesting thought she would modify them to suit herself.

They were probably justified in thinking that.

Madeline hugged her idiosyncrasies to herself, knowing full well she was the only one who appreciated them. She would sleep with Operations. But she couldn't help but think of the old saying.

If you lie down with dogs, you end up with fleas.

Nikita gazed raptly into Michael's jade green eyes. "Do you think Madeline's punishment fit the crime?"

Michael kissed her, his mouth lingering for a heartbeat, as his fingers touched the side of her face. "Being Operations' dominatrix? The role fits her perfectly, Nikita."

"But you know she'll never be satisfied. Operations is enjoying being her love slave."

"That, my love, was the whole idea." The corners of Michael's mouth twitched, as if he were suppressing a smile or laughter.

"With the proper therapy, they could go on like this…forever."

Michael nodded. His eyes agleam with mischief, Michael looked uncharacteristically playful. "Do you want to know what Operations said to me yesterday, Nikita?"

She waited expectantly, an insouciant grin slowly coming to life on her face.

"He thanked me."

She burst into laughter. "No more threats of cancellation, like the Red Queen running amok?"

Michael shook his head.

"No more venom first thing after breakfast?"

Michael shook his head.

"No more keeping us apart, when we need to be together?" She asked this last question wistfully.

"No one will ever keep us apart again…" Michael said, his eyes gradually darkening to a more somber shade of green.

"No one?"

"Now that I've got you back, I'll never let you go again… I exist for and because of you…" An expected wave of emotion threatened his normally calm exterior, unspent tears creeping into his voice.

Wrapping her arms around Michael, Nikita closed her eyes and waited. His lips trembled against her skin, the unspoken message nevertheless loud and clear.

He loved her. More than life itself.

He would move Heaven and Earth to be with her. Even if it meant taking up residence in Hell.

What else did they have but each other?

End