The Lesson

The Lesson
Written February 2001
Rated PG-13
Synopsis: Madeline teaches Nikita a lesson for an upcoming mission.

Disclaimer: The characters within are property of LFN Productions, Warner Bros., and USA Network. No infringement is intended.  While it was not explicitly stated, the song I pictured for this scene was “Slow Like Honey” by Fiona Apple off of her album Tidal.

A Youtube version of the song can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WoeIeg_JvoA


As the song came to its climatic end, Nikita bent backwards on the sturdy wooden chair, her feet tangled in its back. She panted slightly, exhausted from her ordeal, and looked at Madeline. The woman stared at her blankly, as if waiting for something. Nikita sat up and unwrapped herself. “Well?”

Madeline stood, arms folded across her chest. “Barely adequate.”

“What?” Nikita scoffed. “I worked hard to perfect that routine.”

“And it wasn’t good enough. If you’re going to seduce al-Qadir with a provocative dance, you’re going to have to be provocative.”

Rolling her eyes, Nikita picked up her dress from the floor. “So what was wrong with it?”

“The mood, the music, the overall feeling of the dance.”

She sighed, sliding the lavender dress over her head. “I have two days. I’ll just try it again.”

“Sit down.”

“What?” She watched Madeline slip a compact disc out of her jacket pocket and into the player. Tentatively, she sat in the metallic chair Madeline had previously occupied. “What are you doing?”

Slow piano notes floated out of the stereo, accompanied by a vibraphone. Madeline set her coat aside for a moment. “If you’re going to learn, Nikita, you have to learn by example. Observe.” She rounded the chair laboriously, her eyes never leaving her trainee. She took a step with every beat of the music. It was painstakingly slow. Her boots clicked on the cement flooring. The hanging lamp on the ceiling illuminated only her, putting her in a crude spotlight. Holding the back of the chair, she lowered herself to the ground, only to rise again in time with the music. She slid her hands along her torso, between her legs, across her breasts, into her hair.

Nikita squirmed uncomfortably. She did not need a lesson in eroticism. She watched as Madeline raised her long black skirt and began to unzip her knee-high boots ever so slowly. Nikita sighed, rolling her head to one side in an attempt to look interested.

“This type of dance is slow…sultry…”

“So that’s what I did wrong,” she muttered sarcastically.

“And silent,” Madeline finished. She kicked off her second boot. “The most important thing is to keep your observer interested. If you avert your gaze, you lose your audience.”

“He won’t be looking at my eyes,” Nikita pointed out.

“The eyes are the most sensual part of your body. By looking into someone’s eyes, you can see if he is truthful or deceptive, emotionless or aroused…” She tugged slightly on the knot around her waist, and the skirt dropped to the floor. “Never lose your focus.”

Nikita did, in fact, lose focus, lowering her eyes to take in what had happened. Madeline wore thigh-high, dark panty hose connected to an ebony garter belt.

Madeline stepped away from the discarded skirt, toward her pupil, and lifted her foot to Nikita’s midsection. “Anything you do to include your audience will increase the tension, especially…” She slid her foot higher, between Nikita’s breasts. “…when you do it…” She tipped Nikita’s chin up to maintain eye contact. “…slowly.” She lowered her foot and retreated leisurely. She lifted a leg and hoisted it over the chair, lowering herself to a seated position.

Nikita let out a breath and swallowed. She could feel herself beginning to grow flush. The air hung heavy around her, and the room was warm, spinning. Her chest tightened. Madeline was very good at what she did.

Still maintaining eye contact, Madeline began to remove her silver blouse, one button at a time. She moistened her lips with her tongue. She drew it back into her mouth languidly, across her top lip, her teeth. When every button had been released from its hold, she lightly ran her fingertips along the exposed skin. She pushed the fabric aside, revealing a lacy black bra, and shrugged the blouse off her shoulders. “Do not allow your subject to touch you. Tease him, entice him. Stay in control.” She stretched her arm out, shirt in hand, and dropped it to the floor. “If he touches you, the game is over.” She continued to dance, uninhibited, swaying to the intimate music. Her hands roamed her body seductively.

Nikita watched silently. Madeline’s skill was unsurpassed. Compared to this dance, her own was lacking in eroticism and talent. Her tutor was graceful and sensual at the same time. Where did she learn to behave with such expertise? She wasn’t sure Madeline had been a Valentine operative because her technique was so natural, full of the kinds of emotions Nikita had never seen displayed before. She wondered how many of these dances Madeline had performed in the past, how many she would perform in the future, and for whom.

As the song wound to a close, Madeline rose, pelvis lightly brushing the chair back. Whe the music stopped, her stoic expression returned once again, as if it had never left. “One last thing, Nikita.”

“Hmm?” She had been lost in her thoughts.

She sat once more, hugging the back of the chair, and tipped it forward. “Practice makes perfect.” She paused and began collecting her clothing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, same time.”

Nikita nodded, standing to leave.

“And, Nikita? Use what you have learned here. I expect an improved routine as well.”

“Yes, Madeline,” she said as she slipped out the door.

The End

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