The Man From U.N.C.L.E. - The Sleepy Spy Affair, Ch. 1
by Coyote, coyote4531@hotmail.com

Agent Solo is knocked out and kidnapped by long-legged operatives.

Napolean Solo awoke with a splitting headache, one of the unpleasant after-effects of the sleeping gas Nina had used to subdue him.

Two willowy female guards dressed in tiny black thongs and perched on stiletto heels each took one of his arms and hoisted the groggy agent to his feet.

"You slept well, I trust, Mr. Solo?" the guard on his right inquired mockingly.

Where was he? The cold bright light of the room hurt his eyes and his head throbbed. Slowly, piece by piece, memories reassembled themselves: he remembered following the girl back to her apartment. He had allowed her to push him backward onto the couch as she stripped him, then herself, leaving only her black thong and heels on. She guided him inside her and before long he was coming.

But just as he was spurting inside her she produced a small canister, held it close to his face and pushed the button. The gas engulfed his head in a dense cloud, filling his nostrils and lungs. He tried to rise, but he could already feel his strength being sapped by the gas. Seconds later, he was beginning to pass out. He grabbed her smooth upper thighs and attempted to pull himself up, but she stiff-armed him effortlessly back down deep into the cushions while thrusting the tiny dispenser again into his face with her other hand. The stream of gas hissed as it escaped and Solo knew he was going out.

"Who…are…you?" he managed to gasp.

"Oh, did I mention that I work for SPECTRE?" Nina asked, smiling.

Then the image of the girl straddling him above blurred and he let out a long sigh. He let himself be taken by the blackness, the drug, and the girl in the G-string.

Now he found himself being pulled to his feet by two slender females wearing the same outfit his captor had sported; the black thong and high heels were evidently the uniform of choice worn by the enemy operatives.

A speaker mounted on the wall above came to life, interrupting his reverie. "Girls, bring Mr. Solo to the debriefing room. I am ready to begin the interrogation," announced a sultry voice.

"Yes, Commander," answered one of the guards.

Solo was beginning to regain his wits and he decided this was as good a time as any to make a break for it. The two guards were tugging on his upper arms now, guiding him toward the exit. Suddenly he wrenched himself free of their grasp, flinging them outward to either side as he bolted for the only door in the room.

The two guards cascaded awkwardly to the floor. One of them raised her head and shouted, "Nina, stop him!"

For the first time, Solo noticed a third girl in the room who had been standing at a distance. She looked vaguely familiar. And then he recognized her: it was the girl who had gassed him in her apartment.

As Solo tried to run past her, Nina extended one of her long bare legs, tripping him. He sprawled flat on his stomach and slid a few feet across the floor. Instantly he rolled onto his back and pushed himself up onto his elbows, just in time to see Nina striding quickly toward him. As he began to stand up, he realized it was too late: she was already upon him. She cocked her leg back, then brought it forward and up in a sweeping kick which caught him directly under the chin. The blow sent him flying backward and he lay there dazed, staring at the ceiling. He raised his head to get a view of his attacker, but she was waiting for him, arms bent forward at the elbow, fists clenched in front of her.

Her long leg swept upward a second time, connected solidly and sending Solo sprawling onto his back again. He lay there groaning slightly as Nina stood over him, legs spread apart, shaking her head.

"You've been a bad boy, Napolean," she said in a mocking tone. "I'm going to have to put you out for that." She reached down and grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him up toward her. Then she raised her right hand, flattened it, and released a powerful karate chop, burying the knife edge of her hand into the soft, vulnerable flesh at the base of his neck. Immediately she felt him go limp in her grasp.

"Ungh!" he groaned as the chop connected. His head fell back loosely and he fought to stay awake, but her attack had once again brought him to the brink of unconsciousness.

She released him and he dropped to the floor. She stood above him with her hands on her hips and shook her head. Solo was also shaking his head, trying to bring his vision back into focus. With great effort, he struggled to his feet where he stood swaying like a drunk.

Nina approached, pressed her nearly nude body against him and whispered in his ear, "It's nap time, Mr. Solo. Time to put you down for the afternoon."

Without warning, she thrust her knee up sharply into his abdomen. "Oof!" he gasped. The air rushed from his lungs and he bent forward, gripping his sore stomach with both hands.

He raised his head to look at her. She took the opportunity to place a delicate hand on the back of his head. Then she pulled his head downward and held it there. He found himself staring at her feet, still propped up steadily on her thin stiletto heels. His gaze wandered upward over her well-defined calves, past her rounded knees and up to her soft thighs.

Solo watched in detached fascination as one on those pretty thighs suddenly lifted. At the same time, she thrust his head downward toward her rising leg. Her knee caught him squarely on the forehead and his brain exploded with light.

He was propelled violently up and back, already out cold, before falling against the floor where he lay still.

"Maybe that will teach you to behave, Mr. Solo," Nina murmured. Turning to the guards, who had picked themselves up off the floor and were brushing dirt from their lithe bodies, she said, "You'd better get a gurney. The Commander doesn't like to be kept waiting."

To be continued…