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A Little Chat	By : firebat Category: M through R > Matrix, The (All) > Matrix, The (All) Views: 2180 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Matrix movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: Do I have to? You mean� I can�t have Smith? But� I can
still play with him, right? Only if it�s not for profit? YAYNESS!
Just want to send shout outs to my reviewers- thanks for taking a
peek over in the insane sector of the Matrix to check out my ickle fic! Selena-
I hadn�t expected someone with a 20-chapter story under her belt and some
funny-as-hell pic/manips of Smith to be checkin� my little work out! Emperess
of Alvarra- wow! Wasn�t it you being reviewed by famous people�s people or
some such? Come to review my ickle story? * blushies * Alright, alright! Onto
the Smithly fun! * giggles and sings� *Oh what a sarcastic bastard I�m turning
him into! I hope, even for the sake of sexiness, I�ve at least got him loosely
characterized�
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The taxi ride home had been uneventful; though for some odd reason the
driver seemed focused even on guiding her right to the doorway of her own
apartment. Miranda unlocked the grand black doors, letting herself into the
spacious foyer with a sigh. A soft �meow� resonated into her ears; she glanced
down to see her little silver-grey Persian fluff ball rubbing up against her
leg. She tried to move away from the offending feline, but the cat was too
quick, and her leg saw grey furs upon it; she was now a victim of the cat�s
shedding. Smiling down at the animal, Miranda extended a hand to her, stroking
the soft fur atop her head. �Hungry kitty! Come along!� Gently kicking the
shoes off her feet, she beckoned to the small animal, walking to the kitchen.
Dinner, dinner... She honestly didn�t want to go anywhere for dinner... A low growl
emanated from the kitchen doorway. Miranda jumped as a large canine nudged her
knee gruffling and growling. She calmed herself and put her hands on hips to
scold the white Husky, who promptly prostr him himself, whining as he went,
large blue-grey eyes staring pitifully up at her. �Brego! What have you got to
say for yourself?� But the skillfully programmed dog simply continued his act
of submission even as she rolled her eyes, filling up the doggy dish...
...Dinner had been hastily prepared pasta, time spent defending the food
throughout prep and the eating made it less enjoyable. �Down! Sit- no- lay
down! Down...� Miranda could cook, certainly very well. Of course, she�d mused,
perhaps too well... Anytime she prepared her own food, she found herself having
to glare Brego down from his place at her side, licking his chops, blue grey
eyes wide with anticipation. She sighed as she ate, shaking her head at the
dog. He�d been... a rarity of a sort, a gift from the Agents. Why they�d decided
she needed a big loud dog was beyond her, but... over the course of the three
years they�d been together, each learned their role. She smiled at the thought;
Brego had her trained quite well. She was the mistress -as in provider of food
and a warm lap for his head...when the pesky furball wasn�t occupying it. He
enjoyed frightening the maid, Jenny, immensely. It was a game to him when the
girl came in the apartment, to come bounding from the short flight of stairs,
growling and barking. Speaking of the maid, where was she? He hadn�t seen his
favourite target since... quite awhile!
He gazed up at the woman, licking his chops, trying to stare her down.
�No.� She raised an eyebrow, glaring down at the dog unsuccessfully. He stared
steadily up, baring a fang. �Stop that. I know you won�t hurt me.� Brego
blinked sy, sy, straightening his posture. Miranda shook a scolding finger at him,
only to retract her hand suddenly as, with Agent speed, the dog slurped off a
morsel of chicken she�d managed to pick up. �Brego! Bad dog!� Giggling, she got
up. He�d won this match. �Damned dog. I shouldn�t have named you �Quick
One� even if you are! I should have just named you �smith� and be done with
it!� To this Brego gave a short bark, nipping at her heels, as she made for his
dish, emptying the scraps for the calculating canine...
Having fed the occupants of the house, Miranda glanced at the calendar
hanging over a spare bit of counter in the spacious kitchen. Jenny would return
from her vacation tomorrow; she�d kept the place clean in the maid�s absence.
She�d seen others who treated their staff as less than human, but could never
fathom making someone�s work harder than it had to be. Of course, the maid
worked quite hard anyways, and seemed to enjoy it, but...
The sound of a ringing phone snapped Miranda out of her reverie, and she
picked up the cordless nearby. �Miranda Singer here.� Damn. That was more brisk
than she�d intended, but she wasn�t one for a simpering �hello?� over the
phone. �Miranda!� The rich voice of an old friend gave warmth to her as she
moved towards the living room. �Vana! Long time no talk, how�ve you been?� She
grinned as she curled up on the couch, running fingers through her hair. Vana
had the most impeccable timing, for as long as Miranda could remember; she
always called just before she could start getting melancholy.
�Oh my god, �Randa, you will never believe this! I�ve got myself the best
new job! Remember our time at the Academy? Well, it turns out that the man who
gave that speech back in Defense Systems class, works for the government!�
Miranda nodded over the phone, smiling at the memory. Vana and herself
hadn�t stopped talking about Mister White for at least a week. Looking like a
smooth black statue he�d been in his suit, his rich voice reaching their souls
about the importance of � She giggled.
�So what�s he, a special Agent or some such, Vana? Don�t tell me you�ve ah,
hooked up or-�
�MIRI! I never-�
Howling with laughter, the two ladies shared words over their work, their
time of training together, the last time they�d spent the day �just being
girls�, as Vana had put it. And it was how Miranda felt now, just like a girl
again.
�Now really, Vana. Tell me more about Mister White! What was he pouring into
our souls that day in class anyways, back in the day?� She was sure her friend
could hear the grin in her voice, more so when Vana mocked indignant at her
question.
�Oh what now, Miranda, you not got your hands full with those Agents you got
your own? You�re gonna start she-wolfing mine too?� Eyes widening, Miranda
positively cackled, kicking her feet in the air. She could just picture Vana,
eyes wide, lips pursed just so, a balled hand on her hip.
�What, me? Never! Now seriously. Tell me about these positions you say he�s
got you in?�
�MIR-ANDA! Of all the low down dirty, nasty...� She trailed into a diatribe of
Miranda�s filthy-mindedness until she too, dissolved into peals of laughter.
For a moment it was quiet on both ends, they sighed together, sides aching.
It seemed they�d needed that. Perhaps it was part of Vana�s timing herself; she
phoned her friend not just when she was in need, but when they both needed a
laugh, a cry, even just to sit together. �It�s been too long, girl...� Miranda
nodded. �Yeah...hey, I have tomorrow off!� Dead silence reigned for a split
second before Vana just chuckled. �You! A day off? Puh-leeze! I�m too tuckered
out to laugh my ass off at�cha, Miranda!�
...They decided on a full �girl�s day out�, complete with a day-spa visit
and shopping, matinee topped off with coffee and conversation. Almost
regretfully, Miranda put back the phone, nearly tripping over the slumbering
dog lying across the kitchen doorway. She debated rousing him to remind him
that he belonged in the living room or in his big bed-basket, but decided
against it. Programmed with the same stubbornness of Agents, the Husky would no
doubt give her trouble for such foolishness. Settling for simply ruffling his
fur and kissy-kissing the drowsy dog goodnight, Miranda made for bath and bed;
sweet sensation of water and bubbles of soap, slick upon her skin before
slumber in soft covers...
Unclothing herself en route to the bathroom, she glanced briefly over the
tub before settling on a quick shower. Soft sheets seemed the more appealing;
perhaps a read before sleep, she mused as she turned on the water, pulling a
fluffy towel from the small closet near the bathroom door. Steam quickly encapsulated
her as she stepped into the stream of water, sighing with bliss. Hot jets of
water pulsated down rhythmically, relaxing the muscles of her neck and back as
she turned away from the shower, lathering her hair. She closed her eyes, just
enjoying the warmth, soothing pulses of water kneading her shoulders as she
resumed methodically washing herself; bubbles of softly scented soap foaming
upon her skin�
A hand wandered to her breast as she imagined strong fingers titillating her
skin, teasing her, a deep voice rumbling into her ear as he mocked her need of
him, too gentle. �And far too kind...� Ragged gasps escaped her; she
glanced out the now steam-frosted shower door, only to start very suddenly. She
looked about her with cautious eyes, as if sensing something. Far too quiet,
things felt too, too quiet� Placing a hand to the glass, she gazed out at an
imposing dark figure; seemingly crisp lines gave the appearance of a suit away�
�Smith?� She blinked slowly as she moved to open the glass door,
nervousness gnawing at her. Surely he wouldn�t stalk her, watching her most
private moments; a kind of sick retribution for her own bad habits?
Vulnerability. This was vulnerability at its finest- what if it wasn�t
him? Excited breaths changed to fearful tension in her throat, and she
stepped out; the sounds of the water-jets falling like little bullets to the
shower�s floor.
Steam spilled forth into the bathroom, billowing around Miranda as she
peered into the warm mist, carefully stepping onto her mat. �Please be
Smith,� she whispered, heart pounding in her chest. The figure moved just
slightly, its arm wavering, and another cloud of steam surrounded her. Eyes
wide, she stepped forward, leaning, peering into the suffocating clouds. The
figure wavered again, its length shivering as a cloth held out a window to dry,
and suddenly, extended towards her, riding a wave of air. Fear clawing at her
throat, she cried out, reaching towards the cloth as it snapped away from her.
�Jenny!� A thin shriek followed her own; the maid jumped, startled at Miranda�s
scream. �Miss Singer! I�m so sorry! I just- I got this- I got back early and-�
Miranda let out a relieved laugh, cug thg the now-bumbling Jennifer off as she
reached forth and hugged her through the- she saw it was a bathrobe now- and
patted her back.
�Good heavens, Jennifer you startled me! What�s this?� She indicated the
robe in the maid�s hands; she placed it up on the robe holder nearby the stall.
�I got this for you while I was out. You said you saw one at La Senza, and
the only one they had was in navy blue...� As the girl chattered away, she set to
cleaning around the shower, heading for the door. Miranda shook her head
smiling as she stepped back into the shower; relieved that it had just been her
long hours getting to her.
...Having washed and dried herself off, having run a brush several times
through hair made silky in the drying, she walked from ensuite to bed, pulling
back generous covers and crawling in. Only the sheet she wished to have upon
her as she picked up the heavy unopened volume upon her night table. She hadn�t
had, or more accurately, given herself, a chance to really get into the copy of
Stephen Hawking�s Large Scale Structure of Space-Time, rather a
shame, she mused. She liked studying the works of Mr. Hawking; she could
appreciate the cool logic of such a mind. Half an hour found her a wearying
woman; she hadn�t realized how tired she�d become. She glanced at the clock. �Only
ten PM? But why...� she yawned, blinking back sleep as she bookmarked her
spot in the large book, still trying to read the precious few words in the
instant before snapping it shut. As if mocking her, a voice tugged at her
subconscious. What good was trying to stay awake even for good reading, if
she was unable to keep her eyes open? She shook her head, reaching for the
lamp. Eyes fluttering closed; she seemed to fall asleep as soon as her head hit
the pillow...
Why was he here? He was technically off duty, supposedly recharging. But...
he couldn�t. He�d almost hoped she�d break his little �rule� about not touching
her computer, wished she would have given him cause to pay her a visit. For
some reason it almost seemed better this way, catching her nearly unaware. She
rolled away, not to her other side, but nearly flat on her back, pulling the
covers with her feet as she went; thoroughly tangled in bedclothes but for her
now bare breasts, rising and falling softly in deep breaths. So she slept
naked� interesting. Forcing himself to maintain control of his reaction, he
settled for removing the dark glasses, gazing unabashedly as she slept. For an
hour he observed her; she appeared to sleep fitfully, yet she never actually
awoke, even as she pulled covers up or kicked them off herself...
From short distance he gazed upon that sleeping form; innocent in repose...
she stirred, but didn't wake even as he reached out thoughtfully, fis
ts
trailing along bare shoulder... She moved, sighing. One name whispered to him,
even through troublesome dreams. �Smith...� He raised an eyebrow, unseen in the
black of the chamber. Interesting. Her temperature had risen; she forced air
out from her lungs. The same biochemical reaction as... He smiled, caressing
her cheek. "Don't wake..." Breath upon her skin imprinted into her
dream, her mind recalling touch, taste, and sound...even as her body found the
pleasure with which to remember it. He sat nearly weightlessly on the side of
her bed, bending towards her serene face. Lips touched skin still fragrant with
barely scented bath oils; she tasted sweet. His free hand trailed down from her
chest to her stomach, fingers delighting in the smoothness of her body. She
exhaled, shivering slightly, either at his touch or her dreams. It didn�t
matter. She was responding to him, one way or another.
In the paths of human dreams, Miranda wandered half-conscious. Something was
off, she felt altered somehow, as though she were forced asleep. But it didn�t
matter; the why of things, there needed be no cause. Heat crept up her; she
could feel him already in her mind, hands wandering over her body seemingly
without purpose. Oh, but there was always purpose with him, always. �It is
purpose, Miranda, purpose that drives us...� Was that it? Was that what he�d
whispered once to her? She cared not as she leaned into his touch, his fingers
teasing her nipples, a hand cupping her sex as he gently pressed himself into
the small of her back...
�Purpose...� So that was it; she was murmuring in her sleep, doubtlessly
dreaming of him. He raised an eyebrow, leaning back as she turned towards him,
taking the sheets with her, exposing her back as she rolled onto her stomach.
He let her move as she would, gently untangling the covers from her as she
went. He wondered what purpose she was questioning. With a sardonic smile, he
realized that her muttering and murmurings were about the purpose of his hands
on her body... He wondered briefly if she was actually half-awake. It didn�t
matter, the only thing that did was the feeling, at least where the human was
concerned...
As his hands worked their magic, as her heat spread to her limbs, into her
reddening cheeks, weakening her knees, she moaned his name; a woman possessed. �Never
mind your poise, Miranda, forget all your as-humanly-possible perfections, even
your impeccable self control...� Smith�s voice dropped to a gravelly whisper
as he slid two fingers into her moistened heat. Air. She needed air, and she
fought for it, leaning against his strong body. He nipped her neck, tongue
flicking over the sensitive skin. �The truth is, Miranda� you are completely
out� of control...�
She gasped, her mind giving her body sensations not quite present.
Pheromones released from the woman�s prone form, heavy-lidded eyes threatened
to open. But Smith passed a hand over her face, gently willing her eyes closed
again. �Do not wake...� He kissed her forehead softly; her skin was warm,
slightly moist with sheen of sex-rich sweat. His hand wandered down the curve
of her bare back, gently kneading tense muscles. He stopped briefly at the
small of her back, fingers tracing small circles before pulling the sheets away
from her, cupping her bottom in hand. If it could have, his breath would have
caught in his throat, and he would have purred. She was warm, inviting, her
legs spread slightly. With a feather light hand he stroked her backside, round
and firm to the touch. Should he? He leaned over her, head hovering over the
bare back of her neck, trails of breath sensitizing her skin. Softly he pressed
his lips to the nape of her neck, flicking his tongue out to the warm skin,
tasting the sheen of musk. Heady. Intoxicating. Sheer lust was in her smell; he
felt saturated by her need. He smiled to himself, a fine possession she made;
plaything for what little free time he had. But it could not be so; she was the
Faithful, could not be harmed. But what harm could come from the subtle game of
provocation between the two? Sighing, the smile faded from his lips, and he sat
back up, leaning away from the still slumbering woman, just to gaze on her.
Before rising to leave, he softly kissed her mouth once more, a thought
entering his consciousness unbidden. �You are mine...�
�...Mine� His voice filled her, surrounded her being, she could feel
it, rushing, coursing through her. �You are mine.� Where she�d felt
fingers teasing her skin, she now only felt Darkness� embrace, chilling arms
enfolding around her. An azure gaze held her with the power of steel and let
her go suddenly; she was falling...
... Into her pillow. �Miss Singer? It�s seven a.m... you wanted me to wake
you...?� The tentative voice of the maid, as she peered into the room, roused
Miranda; she sat up slightly in her tangle of covers, pulling and tugging this
way and that to keep herself covered. Jennifer gasped slightly at the sight of
her mistress in such a state and slipped back behind the door, closing it
again. �Err, it�s fine Jenny! You can come back in, I�m decent!� But only a
muffled squeak of apology could be heard from the other side of the heavy door.
Miranda sighed, rising from the bed, pulling on a negligee draped over the
nearby lounging chair. Tying the soft belt arouer wer waist, she pulled open
the door to see the meek maid still looking rather disconcerted. �What is it,
Jenny? You seem ... anxious.� She frowned slightly, brows furrowing. The usually
crisp, clean clad girl seemed ruffled, she wore the look of a train having
passed through her, in dreams or otherwise. �Train? Or...� Her heart
dropped a beat, anvil to the floor. A hand went to her chest in a motion of
denial; she fought the heat of blushing. �No...'
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