- Vitruvian Steele
Date: Thursday, November 29, 2007
- From: "lpoynornew" <lpoynor@comcast.net>
-
- Hello all. I hope the spacing turns
out correctly. If it's not right,
do the story and yourself a favor and go to the my fanfic website
link here http://andrea11.t35.com/VitruvianSteele.html
where you'll
also find something extra that helps to illustrate the story.
-
- Vitruvian Steele
-
- by Lauryn Poynor
-
- Thanks to Anne, my
editor, for having an eye for this sort of thing,
and thanks to Ace for the brilliant title, and for encouraging
me to
take it further.
-
- Rated: NC-17. The story is complete and may
be archived.
-
- @-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@
-
- The intruder's soft-soled shoes
found easy purchase on the window
ledge. It was close to midnight and the evening was quiet and
still.
With a sure hand she jimmied open the casement windows, parting
them
with fairly noiseless efficiency. Still clinging to a knotted
length
of silk rope, she swung through the window opening to the carpet
below.
-
- A slight breeze now began stirring,
but not enough to chill the air.
The black-clad woman drew back the curtains, bathing the room
in soft
moonlight. She pulled in the free end of the dangling rope, slowly
unknotting and unraveling it until she had removed four equal
lengths
of fabric, letting them run smoothly through her hands. She smiled,
and on a playful impulse, lifted one square to veil her face,
undulating her body beneath it like a dark-eyed dancer from a
sultan's palace of delights.
- Not bothering with any other object
in the room, she moved swiftly to
the bed, her eyes fixed on the supine male form that lay under
the
covers, tousled head against the soft down of the pillow. The
woman
lay down the lengths of silk and unzipped her jacket pocket.
She
removed a small torch, its beam barely brighter than a pen-light.
With infinite care she slowly drew back the bed covers, shining
the
pale glow on the figure beneath.
-
- He was entirely naked, which pleased
her -- and in the depths of
sleep, which pleased her more. She placed the torch on the
nightstand, pointing it toward the bed and removed a dark stocking
cap, the action spilling her blonde hair in soft waves across
her
shoulders.
-
- The man shifted his limbs underneath
him and she was afraid he would
awaken, but he merely turned over and settled into the mattress,
and
now, face to face, was exposed even more completely to her view.
-
- Her eyes roamed over each secret
line and angle of his form, the
persistence of memory being half the diversion. He was just as
perfect, perhaps even more maturely so, as when they had met,
though
his skin was a bit pale. A week on the beaches of the Costa del
Sol
would do him good.
-
- "Michael, how I've missed you,
"she murmured. "All of you. Little
Lisa does keep you up past bedtime doesn't she?"
-
- She'd rather counted on that, though
she hated to admit the girl had
done her a favor. The man had to be fairly exhausted after stealing
a
painting that was decidedly unlucky and being trussed up in a
warehouse for his pains. It was strange how, in the aftermath,
certain fantasies had leapt to mind. That was the problem with
being
cursed with an imagination. On the other hand, perhaps it was
kismet.
-
- The man who now called himself Remington
Steele rolled over, turning
to rest momentarily on his back. After a long, lean stretch his
arms
and legs were spread almost equidistantly apart.
-
- Felicia arched an eyebrow at him.
"Why aren't you always this
accommodating, my love?" She began to wind the first length
of silk
around his left wrist, knotting it, but not too tightly. When
he
didn't protest, she carefully moved to the other side of the
bed to
perform the identical operation on his right hand. That part
of the
preparations finished, she did the same to both feet with the
other
lengths of fabric she'd retrieved from the rope. She'd never
been
religious, but she sent up a prayer to whatever deity might be
listening that her quarry should remain blissfully unaware of
the
proceedings. It seemed to take an eternity to secure the four
loose
ends to the bed frame and leave some play in each line of silk,
but
finally the job was done.
-
- Her heart beat uncommonly quickly.
It was a rather delicious irony
that this man, whom she had no doubt could escape the finest
jails in
Europe, was now in this state of rather close confinement, and
hers
to do with absolutely as she wished. She'd never been shy about
anything she wanted from him, no matter how daring or unconventional,
and having made it quite obvious in this case, would hardly stop
now.
-
- After all, she calmly reasoned,
he owed her. She'd saved his skin
from that nasty Gutman character and his trigger happy henchman.
And
despite his protestations, life as Remington Steele could hardly
suit
him. Soon the novelty of being a famous sleuth would wear off
and who
better than she to remind him of all the fun he'd been missing?
She
would be there to pluck him from clutches of conformity, out
of the
limelight into the shadows, and their world would soon return
to its
proper, more elliptical orbit.
-
- Her hands were slightly cool so
she slipped them under the covers,
then back again outside them as, with rounded motions, she gently
began to massage her captive's exposed left thigh. Luxuriating
in the
exercise, inch by inch she circled inward, moving squarely between
his legs, covering, and then coaxing his manhood with her warm
avid
palms. She concentrated her efforts in that vicinity, hoping
the
stimulation, though it might prove to wake him, would distract
him
from immediately discovering his bonds.
-
- She felt like gloating at the speed
of the result. He'd come erect in
mere seconds. She gazed upon him in the half-light, wanting to
prolong her forbidden enjoyment. She feared his eyes would open
in a
sea of startling blue, but he merely shifted his hips and exhaled
contentedly.
-
- Poor Michael, she nearly exclaimed.
His body was so frightfully
eager. No matter what she had believed about his associate, he
must
be living like a monk. Or perhaps Linda was just hopeless in
the
bedroom. This last thought gave her comfort as she admired and
refined her work.
-
- The memory of his flesh never failed
to stir her blood. She stroked
the upright length of him with the same sense of discovery she
had
felt on their first time together. His cock was well-shaped and
elegant, hard and smooth to the touch, and divinely thick. That
she
knew intimately what Michael could do with it only spurred her
appetite.
-
- She wondered if he thought of her,
dreamed of her. It had stung, how
clearly she had been rebuffed, how distant Michael had been at
his
flat and how he'd slapped her hands away when she tried to undress
him. In their history together he'd only done this at times when
he
was all business, when they were on a job, or planning one, or
when
she had made him angry or jealous. Even then it had never had
an air
of finality, as if his life was something she could no longer
be a
part of. If these days he thought of her as expendable then perhaps
she could give him cause to regret it. Or more happily, rekindle
the
flame.
-
- Felicia brushed the tip of his erection
with her tongue, finding a
succession of secret places where she knew he was highly responsive.
She wasn't wrong, as he gave a moan in his throat and then
instinctively began to thrust in reaction. Pressing this advantage,
she took him tightly in her mouth, her movements expert and precise,
the sense of mastery building, knowing he had no power to resist,
drawing him fast into her web.
-
- The moan became a single word -
"Laura" -- and Felicia eyes flashed
with sudden enmity. She stopped, still bent over him, posture
rigid
with anger, her breath coming in hard gasps. Felicia examined
the
object of her ire and lust as he thrashed against the pillow
and in
confusion, cried out once more. Michael was a fool, she thought
coldly. Throwing away his happiness and the life he was made
for -
all for a chit of a girl who would never know him and would never
understand him.
-
- His face and body tensed as he stirred
again, dark lashes under his
brows, cheeks warm and flushed. She lowered her eyes to his cock,
watching it quicken as a ripple of desire moved under the velvet
skin. Felicia thought of Michael's present state and her teeth
showed
in a predatory smile. It would serve him right if she were to
go,
leave him like this, in the throes of a passion she refused to
fulfill. But she soon realized, what better than her original
plan?
To take him, from unawareness to a final capitulation, would
be the
greatest and sweetest reward. It was time to put thought into
action,
while jealousy and need still flared, bright and diamond hard
in her
chest. When she was finished the man she called Michael O'Leary
would
have no doubt of the identity of his phantom lover. From this
moment
he was hers, no matter whom he called to in the night.
-
- Felicia unzipped her leather jacket
and slipped it off shoulders that
were richly tanned from the sun. Underneath the jacket a black
camisole clung tightly to her breasts and she removed it, pulling
the
thin fabric free from her body and discarding it on the floor.
Shoes,
socks, and dark trousers soon followed, until she was as naked
as her
prey.
-
- Without her nearness and touch Michael
had grown more restive, though
he was still asleep and aroused and dreaming. Felicia went back
to
the bed, checking each fastening of silk to make sure each still
held
him. Refreshing his erection briefly with one hand, she leaned
over
and started to kiss him, her tongue darting out against skin.
Reacquainting herself with his body she began a long, slow, intimate
progress from groin to thigh to navel to chest to shoulders until
her
lips clashed warmly with his.
-
- As she nipped with her teeth his
eyes blinked open and his lips
parted in surprise. She kissed his mouth with a fire no dream
could
match and his thoughts began a long unwinding, as if she'd pulled
at
them like a skein of thread. Perceptions eventually become real,
though the details were more than a bit fuzzy around the edges.
-
- The first thing he became clearly
aware of was her perfume. She'd
always liked to wear it for him, a scent of her very own. It
was
quite Parisian and expensive, made for her by a long discarded
lover,
the heir of a perfume house with a tradition of rather baroque
luxury
and opulence. For a disconcerting moment he wondered where he
was. A
silvery voice, bright with merriment, but in native English instead
of French, chimed in his ear.
-
- "Aren't you going to kiss me
back? Or are you swearing off that these
days?"
-
- "Felicia!" His eyes were
fully open now, if not entirely accustomed
to the semi-darkness, and they opened even further when he realized
she wasn't wearing a stitch. It took him a beat to recover his
usual
sang froid. "You haven't exactly taken the veil, yourself."
-
- Felicia smiled, thinking of her
silken squares of rope. "That's where
you're wrong, Michael. Though apparently, you're the last to
know."
-
- Steele's brow furrowed. If there
was anything that made even less
sense to him than Felicia it was the way he was feeling now.
His
limbs seemed weirdly disconnected. There was a tingling sensation
in
his hands and feet - and in other parts as well.
-
- Impossible. He hadn't gone to bed
like this. His eyes traveled warily
below his waist. Felicia's hands were busy doing some sort of
calisthenics. Or maybe a form of Tibetan massage because he was
mysteriously sporting an erection that rivaled Mount Everest.
Steele
moved to push her hand away because something told him this was
a
time he needed to think clearly. But he couldn't. Move, just
yet,
and, though awareness had dawned too slowly, an inventory of
his
tingling extremities finally showed him the reason why.
-
- Felicia stopped her stroking of
him to savor the moment, a serene
smile playing across her lips.
-
- Steele struggled, testing each of
his bonds in turn, but it soon grew
apparent that resistance was virtually useless. His expression
grew
annoyed, then murderous. "Alright, Felicia. What are you
playing
at?"
-
- She gazed down at him indulgently.
"Oh, Michael, this brings back
memories."
-
- Steele eyed her quizzically. "It
does?"
-
- "The skylight. The harness.
The Metropolitan Museum."
-
- "I didn't know you were such
a sentimentalist."
-
- She arched an eyebrow. "You
know me. Anything for old times' sake."
-
- "I don't think this qualifies,"
Steele opined dubiously. "You seem to
have picked up some interesting hobbies since we last met."
-
- "Well, darling. One would hardly
expect me to stay home and knit."
-
- "I think you must mean knot."
-
- "How charming of you to notice.
Do you think I did a good job?"
-
- "Astoundingly good. Would you
mind doing it in reverse?"
-
- Felicia waved a hand airily. "Oh,
I probably will. Eventually."
-
- "I didn't know you went in
for this sort of thing."
-
- "I think it's quite artistic."
-
- "That's not the word that leaps
to mind."
-
- She regarded her own composition
-- his form, naked, arms and legs
stretched out at all points. "You look rather like that
famous Da
Vinci sketch. The male figure, extremities apart, inscribed in
both a
circle and a square -"
-
- "Vitruvian Man."
-
- "Very anatomically correct."
-
- "Normally I'd love to discuss
art history with you, Felicia, but I
seem to be rather distracted. Can't imagine why."
-
- "You disappoint me, Michael.
I always thought you did your best
thinking lying down. But if you're not in the market for
conversation…" Felicia returned her attention to other
things.
Sadly, his erection had waned, but that was easily fixed. Without
preamble, she took his length firmly in hand.
-
- "Felicia, I'm in no mood -"
Steele protested.
-
- "I wouldn't go banco on that,
darling. Just moments ago you were
saluting me rather smartly." Almost magically, she stroked
him to
readiness again. "There we are. You can't tell me you haven't
missed
this."
-
- "I hate to spoil your enthusiasm,
but there are times when a slight
breeze can do the trick."
-
- Felicia laughed. "But not half
so well."
-
- "I don't suppose it would occur
to you to ask first."
-
- "Darling, I always know best.
And you exhibit all the signs of a man
who needs a good, hard, shag. And from someone who knows how.
That
drab little secretary of yours will be the ruin of you."
-
- Steele's temper flared. "Miss
Holt is my associate. And she has
nothing to do with my sex life!"
-
- "Things are that bad, are they?"
-
- "That's not what I meant!"
-
- Felicia slowly began to wonder if
there was less to that relationship
than met the eye. "You can't seriously be suggesting that
your Miss
Bolt is as virginal as she looks." Felicia sighed. "If
so, how
wretched for the both of you."
-
- "I'll trouble you to leave
Laura out of this -"
-
- "Are you sure?" teased
Felicia, looking down at the bed. "My hopes
aren't high, but if she could be persuaded, three isn't always
a
crowd."
-
- Steele looked daggers in her direction.
-
- "I'm only trying to help, my
sweet."
-
- "And Machiavelli was only trying
to give innocent advice." Her hands
were getting quite busy again. "Would you stop!"
-
- "Why should I when I'm getting
such interesting results?"
-
- He tried to avert his gaze from
the body lying next to him, a body
that was as lushly proportioned as he remembered. He knew as
well as
she its effect on him and he began to feel slightly desperate.
"Look,
Felicia. You've had your fun. If you'd be so good as to untie
me, put
your kit back on, and pop back through the window we can forget
this
ever happened -"
-
- "But, Michael, be honest. You
really don't want to forget, do you?
Not everything."
-
- Perhaps it was another trick, but
her plea seemed almost in earnest.
Steele blew out his breath in a sigh. "Perhaps you're not
the only
sentimentalist."
-
- "Careful, my love," she
said. "You're sounding terribly sincere."
-
- "The gods broke the mold when
they made you, Felicia, and I admit,
we've had our moments. Actually, more than most. And if it all
comes
down to this - a wild finish on a moonlit night, the two of us,
a bit
of knot tying, and a bed frame - well I'm not entirely sure
I'd
regret it."
-
- She smiled fondly down at him. "That
was a very pretty speech,
Michael."
-
- Steele winced. "Tell me you
didn't believe a word of it."
-
- "Whatever you say, darling."
Her face, in the shadows, was enigmatic.
They had lived careless, glittering lives on the surface, with
hearts
that neither had wanted to be touched, yet he had made her feel
more
than any other man, though she could never put a name to the
emotion.
Not a satisfactory one, at any rate. Love, she highly suspected,
was
far too conventional, but she had grown irresistibly fond of
him, and
she knew he was fond of her, too. Hers were the arms he always
came
back to, when he needed a friend, a refuge, or a lover. "We
haven't
had much use for regrets, have we?"
-
- "No, I suppose we haven't."
-
- Felicia slid close to him and ran
a finger down his chest. "Do you
remember when we rescued the Vermeer from that pile of Roman
ruins
along the Cap D'Antibes?"
-
- Steele gazed meditatively up at
the ceiling. "It was the height of
criminality --"
-
- Felicia looked puzzled. That was
rather true of all of their
exploits.
-
- "--Leaving that painting out
in the elements," Steele continued.
-
- "Ah, but the men involved were
frightful amateurs."
-
- "But good enough to chase us
halfway to Nice."
-
- "Lucky that cigarette boat
was handy," remarked Felicia.
-
- "The salt spray didn't do the
Vermeer any good."
-
- "Well, at least we got it into
the hands of an owner who was, shall
we say, dedicated to its restoration."
-
- Steele gave a half-smile. "That
we did."
-
- Felicia stroked a round scar on
the curve of his shoulder. "Our
pursuers may not have known much about painting but they were
very
good shots."
-
- Steele's brow furrowed. "Why
is it that my life with you has been one
hair-raising escape after another?"
-
- Felicia glanced up at his bonds
and flashed him a gleaming
smile. "But not this time, darling. Not this time."
She lowered her
body onto his.
-
- "So it appears," Steele
said warily.
-
- "I suspect every woman who's
ever known you has wished she could tie
you down." In the moonlight her skin had a bewitching amber
glow. "But I'm the only one to manage it."
-
- "I imagine my luck had to run
out sometime."
-
- Felicia replied philosophically,
"Well, Michael, I suspect it's your
own grievous fault. Remember, you've now brought the curse of
`The
Five Nudes of Cairo' down upon your head."
-
- She watched the light in his eyes
grow distant and she roundly cursed
her own folly. Felicia knew Michael was thinking of the girl
Lisa -
the one he'd stolen the painting with, the one who had so
unaccountably supplanted her rightful place at his side. Well,
Felicia thought fiercely, that would be true no longer. Her lithe
nude form rose over him and she pressed him hard against the
bed. She
kissed him as if by right of possession, a cold fire going through
her as she forced him to respond.
-
- When they broke apart they were
staggered and gasping. Steele
collapsed on the pillow, trying to stop, trying to think, to
follow
this chain of events to some apparent consequence, but the world
of
his recent past, so new, seemed to drift away.
-
- Felicia leveraged herself from his
body, offering up her breasts,
dying for him to touch them with his lips and tongue. Her nearness
was too much. Steele tasted her, suckled her, breathing in her
scent,
feeling an urge that was achingly familiar, yet strangely compelling.
Their association had always been illicit, like a secret pact,
with
both stealing every pleasure where they could. There would be
other
horizons, other times apart, but it seemed certain that the pattern
would never change.
-
- His mouth soon tasted other parts
of her as well but he was taking
her to the brink so far, so fast, that she had to pull away,
to
prolong this night, to find herself again. "You're mine,
Michael. You
always come back." Felicia slid down his form, feeling his
erection
press against her belly. She closed her eyes and straddled him,
wanting him the way she had from the beginning, mixing both memory
and desire. He filled her and she exhaled in contentment, deep
and
sighing, cradling him inside her, rocking him.
-
- This was their only physical connection
and Steele aided her rhythm
as she glided from root to tip. Though the concentrated sensation
overwhelmed him he longed to touch her skin, to taste her again,
to
bury his head against her shoulder. Felicia's neck arched and
on her
descending stroke he felt a rush of heat and he knew it would
be
surprisingly quick. She shuddered, squeezing him fitfully, crying
out
in pleasure as she came.
-
- They parted and she fell against
him, cheek on his chest, and he
could feel her hard breath and the wild beat of her heart. She
began
to recover and kissed him, trailing warmly from mouth to earlobe,
her
fingers tangling in his hair.
-
- "You've been too long away
from me, my love. I got there before you
did."
-
- "Don't apologize. You think
I don't enjoy driving you insane with
lust? But if you insist on making it up to me…"
-
- "You're certainly ready. I'll
see what I can do to make the wait
worthwhile."
-
- Steele started to urge her to turn
him loose from his bonds, but
there was an odd exhilaration to seeing her naked form inching
down
his body, slowly and inevitably, taking him in hand while he
was
utterly unable to resist. He shut his eyes, waiting, and her
mouth
surrounded him, and despite readying himself for the moment his
hips
jerked forward in surprise.
-
- Tasting herself on his skin, with
light tongue strokes Felicia
explored the head of his shaft, delighting in the almost intuitive
way she could drive him to near bliss. She found one spot that
elicited an especially potent reaction and stopped and said
playfully, "You know, I think you've become even more sensitive.
Or
perhaps my absence has made this part of you grow fonder."
She
sighed. "You're so perfect in the ways that matter, my love."
-
- Still insinuating with her tongue
she stroked and massaged the rest
of his length with her palm and fingers, her cadence leisurely
at
first, then more urgent, taking him deep in her throat as he
found
his final release. She reveled in the sight and sound as he gave
himself up to this new rite of sensuality, his dark head thrown
back,
limbs taut and shaking, tensing and flexing against his bonds.
-
- Felicia pulled herself up to the
head of the bed, feeling heavy, but
sated, from his consummation and her own. Steele's arms and legs
had
now relaxed, but his breathing was still ragged in his chest.
She
stroked his ribs and held herself against him while his body
began to
come down from its peak. Nerves still leapt under his skin, sending
out rogue sparks of sensation as she soothed and calmed him.
-
- After what seemed like a suitable
interval had passed she turned to
him and said, "Aren't you glad I didn't release you, darling?
We
should try this more often."
-
- "Well, you did say we should
brush up on our Bacchanalian whirl. But
I never expected your plan to take quite this form."
-
- "Did I impress you?"
-
- "In every possible way. But
then, you always do." He gestured to his
bonds, shifting his body a bit uncomfortably. "Being in
this form of
traction may have its rewards -- I expect I'll be taller in the
morning."
-
- "Your tailor may not be pleased.
Certainly not as pleased as I am at
the moment." If she had sensed one thing from Michael's
body it was
that, no matter what she had feared before, her rival hadn't
possessed him yet, though she couldn't imagine what she was waiting
for. "I'll bet your little Lisa won't give you opportunities
like
this. Perhaps I should give her a few suggestions."
-
- "I shudder to think."
-
- "I'm not so bad at sorting
things out. Perhaps I could write an agony
column."
-
- Steele began to roar.
-
- "What are you laughing at?"
-
- "At you. Giving advice to the
lovelorn and lonely pensioners with
cats."
-
- Felicia leapt to her feet in a passion.
"I should leave you just as
you are -- and let you explain to your lovely associate how you
just
happened to end up tied hand and foot and naked right in the
middle
of your own bed." She crossed her chest with her arms in
satisfaction. "Is that a fair summation?"
-
- "Fair to whom?" said Steele,
wrinkling his nose in annoyance.
-
- "I'd do it, you know,"
she said emphatically. "Just to see how you'd
manage to talk your way out of it."
-
- "Well, it's nice to see you
have faith in me."
-