Illya Kuryakin leaned against the floral-papered wall in the third floor corridor of the Excelsior Hotel, checking his wristwatch for the umteenth time.
He looked from the time to the door directly opposite to where he was standing, and to the doorknob from which a 'do not disturb sign' was hung.
"Sigh," he was getting tired of waiting on his partner to finish his nocturnal activities with a woman he'd met in the hotel bar. Illya rolled his eyes just thinking about that.
The Russian, though not a monk, was not one to just pick up a strange woman for sex...well not that he hadn't, he just didn't do it with the same frequency as did his partner. Kuryakin had his share of encounters with beautiful women though they were far and few between.
Napoleon on the other hand would go after a pretty girl if he simply thought she'd looked at him the right way, or even if she hadn't, somehow he'd eventually charm her into changing her mind about him. In a way. It was truly a gift Solo possessed, along with his uncanny luck.
At times there seemed to be no sense of discretion or control when it came to Napoleon's fascination for womankind and their allurement to him. It wasn't ego, it was pure fact. As Solo so often reminded his partner repeatedly... "when you've got it you've got it and I have it."
Bozhe moy was Illya sick of hearing that ad nauseum.
He was also getting sick of being left to fend for himself when there was a perfectly good bed waiting within their room on which he should be fast asleep at the moment. Illya was at least gentleman enough not to be in the same place with his partner while the man was bedding a woman…hence he was forced to wait somewhere else.
All night diners, hotel lobbies and halls had become his tiresome haunts, He could have gone to a bar or tried to find a jazz club but Illya always had a niggling voice in the back of his mind, forcing him to remain close by, just in case of trouble; which sadly was often the case.
He looked at his watch again and huffed...any longer and he would simply open the door with his key and walk into the room; putting an end to Napoleon's nocturnal shenanigans once and for all on this assignment. Just because it had been a reconnaissance mission was no excuse for Napoleon to usurp the use of their hotel room for his own purposes. Illya was getting ready to put his foot down on this one.
The supposed T.H.R.U.S.H. lair in the building across the street which they had been observing from their hotel room had proved to be a bust. The assignment was at an end and they would be returning to New York in the morning.
"Oh don't stop doing that," the woman moaned, "My God you have a talented tongue!" She held onto either side of Napoleon's head with her hands.
He could feel it, the subtle arching of her back, the way she moved her hips, the little squirm...she was just about ready to pop. He wouldn't let that happen, not just quite yet. This one was a tiger in bed, with her chocolate brown hair and deep brown eyes calling him to her and he wanted their coupling to last a little longer.
"All the more to please you with my dear," Solo moved forward, spreading her legs with his before he entered her ever-so-slowly. His hands gently fondled her breasts, teasing and pinching her nipples to attention...his mouth beginning it's exploration of them, giving them equal attention.
That did it and he felt her shudder as she climaxed, accompanied by a long soft moan.
"Did you like that?" He whispered.
"Mmmm-huh."
"Want more? There's plenty where that came from," he whispered seductively. "Tell me what you want?"
"Oh yes please... kiss me again?" She practically begged him.
As he paused his movement, still inside her, Napoleon leaned forward to give her that kiss, but unexpectedly he felt a sharp prick on the back of his neck as she wrapped her arms around him.
His head began to spin as dizziness and nausea quickly overtook him.
The woman shoved him away her, leaving the U.N.C.L.E. agent still in a state of excitement while laying among the tangle of sheets. Opening one eye wide, and using her fingers; she popped out a contact lense revealing a vivid green iris and before speaking, she removed a lense from her other eye...letting them both drop to the floor.
"So Napoleon Solo, I tricked you and you had now idea. You thought I was just some little strumpet in a hotel bar looking for a good time with a man who thinks he's God's gift to women.'
"Mwaaaaaaaa," he moaned, unable to speak coherently, nor was he able to move body.
"Don't try to struggle, it's no use. I injected you with a slow acting paralysis drug," she crinkled her nose at him as she began to dress herself. "I know you want to know why of course. You see, I am Venus Antonescu, and you seduced my sister Artemisia a year ago and got her to give you information. Our employer wasn't pleased and ended my sister's life because of it and you. Now it's my turn at a little revenge.
Venus sneered at the helpless American, running her bright red fingernail along his chin line as she spoke.
Solo rolled his eyes, as he remembered the girl vividly; beautiful, dark hair, limpid green eyes and and a body that just wouldn't quit. He offered her help, telling her the Command would protect her but she refused.
"And now Solo you're going to die an agonizing death...little by little as you suffocate. You see the drug I gave you will work its way through you very slowly, until your lungs shut finally down. Your heart will keep beating for a bit, and you'll be fully aware as you feel your body begin to fail you until you stuggle to breathe your last desperate breath."
Solo's eyes went wide; the only reaction he could give her before she turned and walked out the door.
Once in the corridor she encountered Kuryakin leaning patiently against the wall; his arms crossed in front of his chest while aimlessly staring down at the floor.
"You're his friend right?" She didn't wait for answer. "He said to tell you to stay here for a bit….he wants some private time to himself. Give him about a half-hour."
Illya raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing to her. He thought it odd that Napoleon would make him stay outside, and wondered what the American could possibly be doing that required such privacy now that his evening's paramour had gone.
No doubt he'd sated his sexual urges with the woman...or had he? The thought of Solo jack…no, Illya didn't want to picture that.
He looked at his watch, deciding to give it just a few more minutes, and at last knocked, using is identification code, to which there was no response. Illya opened the door with his key and the sight he was greeted with was completely unexpected.
Napoleon was stark naked laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling and gave no reaction at all when Illya called his name.
Something was wrong. He rushed to his partner's side, seeing Solo was having difficulty breathing, and began to administer mouth to mouth. While concentrating on that, Illya somehow managed to get his communicator open; calling for help between life-saving breaths.
It seemed like an eternity before the medical assistance arrived, and they took over, bagging and intubating the American, forcing air into his lungs as his heart was still beating strong and his eyes showed he was conscious and fully aware.
Three hours later, Illya was nodding off as he sat next to his friend and partner in the a of George Washington University hospital, in D.C. that U.N.C.L.E. was permitted to use. It was manned by physicians and nurses trained specifically to minister to the sometimes bizarre afflictions affecting field personnel. There was even a small research lab for quickly analyzing any chemicals injected into said agents.
Solo finally opened his eyes, blinking to clear them as he spoke in hushed tones. "Hi there. Do I feel like a fool."
"I would imagine so," Illya yawned. The Russian had spend the night in a rather uncomfortable chair next to his partner, nodding off now and then while waiting for the American to awaken.
"Hey no need to agree with me."
"You said it, I did not. I hope you have finally learned a lesson about picking up strange women in hotel bars?"
"Maybe...you know who she was?"
Illya cocked his head to one side. "No, but I am sure you are going to enlighten me."
"She was the sister of Artemisia Antonescu."
Kuryakin snapped his fingers,"I knew there was something familiar about her. When she came out into the hallway, she told me to leave you alone as you wanted privacy. I thought that peculiar and found there was something in her voice that reminded me of someone else...yet I could not put my finger on it. So she was Venus Anonescu?"
"Precisely chum," Solo hiked himself up in bed."I'm glad you didn't listen to her."
"After a few minutes of waiting, my instincts told me something was off as you have never deprived me of finally getting to sleep after one of your trysts."
"That's what she told you...I needed privacy huh? And you waited a few minutes? Just what exactly did you think I was doing?"
"I will leave that to your lecherous imagination," Illya smiled.
"Oh...OH?"
"Precisely."
"Tovarisch, I have never felt the need...well, that's something I just don't need to engage in, really."
"Really," Illya said, straight faced, not batting an eye.
"Oh all right maybe I do sometimes...but rarely."
Napoleon was saved by the bell as Nurse Walsifer walked into the room. She was a shapely blonde with beautiful green eyes.
"The doctor wants to keep you overnight for observation to make sure you're system is free of the paralytic. So handsome, time for a sponge bath."
That made the American grin from ear to ear. "Illya if you'll excuse us? Excuse me nurse, but you don't have any sisters do you?"
"No, why Mr. Solo?"
"Just curious."
"You my friend are incorrigible," Illya snorted.
"Apparently so," Napoleon Solo smiled.