A Ticklish Subject
Jul. 28th, 2014 05:02 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rosywonder she planted the idea in my oh so receptive mind.
:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:
"What have you discovered so far, Miss Evangelista? Is he vulnerable to the process we proposed earlier?"
The question came from a man dressed immaculately in a double breasted blue blazer atop grey flannel trousers. His shirt was also grey, a silk confection of such luxury it made him appear slightly foppish to the woman he now addressed.
"Mr. Adair, as far as I was able to ascertain, he is indeed going to succumb to this method of torture. I successfully tested him for this particular form of torment."
He raised an eyebrow at that, knowing the level of intimacy that would have been necessary to test the subject.
"Oh really? And just how did you test Mr. Kuryakin for this, Miss Evangelista?"
She was affronted by the implication. She was, after all, not someone to dally with the enemy, no matter how attractive she found him to be.
"I posed as a shoe saleslady, and when he tried on the shoe I ran my finger across the sole of his foot. I must say, he was a veritable laughing machine from just that one simple stroke."
It was obvious to Mr. Adair that his beautiful protege´was without fault, indeed without an ounce of guile. Miss Evangelista was, in all ways that mattered, perfect.
"Very well, I am happy to hear that you were successful and without compromising yourself to this man in any way."
Miss Evangelista smiled her perfect smile, certain of the the man's devotion to her in spite of his attempt to be her master. THRUSH was her only master and what she had in mind for Kuryakin would surely put her within reach of the ultimate goal: Central.
Meanwhile...
Illya Kuryakin was not exactly languishing, the room he was in was actually very nice. Sumptuous was the word that came to mind, and that alone would have been a pleasant change from the normal THRUSH routine. The disarming part of this was, however, that once again he had been stripped down to underwear and forced to wait for whatever would come next. He was actually a little chilly, and his feet were definitely getting cold. He sighed...
"I wonder what it will be this time..." He mused aloud.
He didn't have to wait long because within a few minutes the doors were thrown wide open and in came the girl from the shoe store. He had wondered about her, she seemed somehow not the retail type.
"Ah, Mr. Kuryakin... I hope you are comfortable." She had a bundle of feathers in her hand, and since they were not attached to the shaft of an arrow, Illya was temporarily relieved.
"I would prefer to be dressed, if you don't mind. It's a little drafty in here." He didn't really expect her to return his clothing, but one could hope.
"Ah, no no no Mr. Kuryakin. Something else for you, my lovely Russian. You, sir, are going to be the first UNCLE agent to be subjected to my newest form of endurable torment. You will not be permanently damaged, but you will tell us what I want to know."
With that speech taken care of, Miss Evangelista motioned for her men, four of them, to take hold of Illya and hold him down while she approached with her feathers aimed directly at him. Not having any idea why she thought feathers would affect him in any way, the blond agent was ready to laugh in her face when suddenly, unmercifully, she began to tickle the soles of his feet with one of the feathers.
"No! You're tickling me... haaaaahaaaaaaaa..." Kuryakin went wild, gyrating his body into various contortions as the four men tried valiantly to hold him down.
"Now Mr. Kuryakin... tell me where you have hidden the microfilm that you stole from Mr. Adair!" Miss Evangeline sounded as though she meant business, and the way she handled that feather, illya knew that sooner or later he would break.
Just as the words were about to break from his quivering lips, a similar tickling sensation brushed his cheek accompanied by a petite meew...
Illya's little Siamese kitten purred in his ear as the slumbering Slav awoke from his sensory inspired dream.
"Oh, you are the one tickling my feet. Very well, I suppose it is time for your breakfast."
With that and a sigh of relief that he hadn't been on the verge of telling all because of a few tickles, the Russian and his feline made their way to the kitchen for the start of another day.
rosywonder she planted the idea in my oh so receptive mind.:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:
"What have you discovered so far, Miss Evangelista? Is he vulnerable to the process we proposed earlier?"
The question came from a man dressed immaculately in a double breasted blue blazer atop grey flannel trousers. His shirt was also grey, a silk confection of such luxury it made him appear slightly foppish to the woman he now addressed.
"Mr. Adair, as far as I was able to ascertain, he is indeed going to succumb to this method of torture. I successfully tested him for this particular form of torment."
He raised an eyebrow at that, knowing the level of intimacy that would have been necessary to test the subject.
"Oh really? And just how did you test Mr. Kuryakin for this, Miss Evangelista?"
She was affronted by the implication. She was, after all, not someone to dally with the enemy, no matter how attractive she found him to be.
"I posed as a shoe saleslady, and when he tried on the shoe I ran my finger across the sole of his foot. I must say, he was a veritable laughing machine from just that one simple stroke."
It was obvious to Mr. Adair that his beautiful protege´was without fault, indeed without an ounce of guile. Miss Evangelista was, in all ways that mattered, perfect.
"Very well, I am happy to hear that you were successful and without compromising yourself to this man in any way."
Miss Evangelista smiled her perfect smile, certain of the the man's devotion to her in spite of his attempt to be her master. THRUSH was her only master and what she had in mind for Kuryakin would surely put her within reach of the ultimate goal: Central.
Meanwhile...
Illya Kuryakin was not exactly languishing, the room he was in was actually very nice. Sumptuous was the word that came to mind, and that alone would have been a pleasant change from the normal THRUSH routine. The disarming part of this was, however, that once again he had been stripped down to underwear and forced to wait for whatever would come next. He was actually a little chilly, and his feet were definitely getting cold. He sighed...
"I wonder what it will be this time..." He mused aloud.
He didn't have to wait long because within a few minutes the doors were thrown wide open and in came the girl from the shoe store. He had wondered about her, she seemed somehow not the retail type.
"Ah, Mr. Kuryakin... I hope you are comfortable." She had a bundle of feathers in her hand, and since they were not attached to the shaft of an arrow, Illya was temporarily relieved.
"I would prefer to be dressed, if you don't mind. It's a little drafty in here." He didn't really expect her to return his clothing, but one could hope.
"Ah, no no no Mr. Kuryakin. Something else for you, my lovely Russian. You, sir, are going to be the first UNCLE agent to be subjected to my newest form of endurable torment. You will not be permanently damaged, but you will tell us what I want to know."
With that speech taken care of, Miss Evangelista motioned for her men, four of them, to take hold of Illya and hold him down while she approached with her feathers aimed directly at him. Not having any idea why she thought feathers would affect him in any way, the blond agent was ready to laugh in her face when suddenly, unmercifully, she began to tickle the soles of his feet with one of the feathers.
"No! You're tickling me... haaaaahaaaaaaaa..." Kuryakin went wild, gyrating his body into various contortions as the four men tried valiantly to hold him down.
"Now Mr. Kuryakin... tell me where you have hidden the microfilm that you stole from Mr. Adair!" Miss Evangeline sounded as though she meant business, and the way she handled that feather, illya knew that sooner or later he would break.
Just as the words were about to break from his quivering lips, a similar tickling sensation brushed his cheek accompanied by a petite meew...
Illya's little Siamese kitten purred in his ear as the slumbering Slav awoke from his sensory inspired dream.
"Oh, you are the one tickling my feet. Very well, I suppose it is time for your breakfast."
With that and a sigh of relief that he hadn't been on the verge of telling all because of a few tickles, the Russian and his feline made their way to the kitchen for the start of another day.
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