It was not as much of a room as it was a hallway; in fact that is just what it had been, years ago, before the doors that led from one bedroom through to a sitting room and a bath had been plastered over (all except one, which was hidden quite well, as we will find out) and the connecting hallway turned into a sort of hideaway where a husband could sit in and smoke a pipe and reminisce about his salad days, the wife very happy not to think about that room, as she did not approve of smoking or the wild oats he had sown before she met him.

Certainly none of the staff working there knew about it; the door was cleverly disguised, as we mentioned before; there was no bookcase hung on it like nearly all hidden doors have, no telltale curving scores in the hardwood floor to show that section of the wall swung open.

Which was for the best, as the contents of that room… well, let us just say if the American people ever found out what was in that room it would go very badly for the owner of the house, very badly indeed.  There are some things that can be forgiven, some odd kicks to a gallop that with a wink and a nod can be overlooked.  Great men, after all, have to have their releases, being great and all.  It was regrettable, then, that this man was not great, except in his own small little mind and in a few oily sycophants', who erroneously thought they could ride his coattails to some position of perceived power.

But, as we will learn from this story, in the long run, evil plants the seeds of its own destruction, and neither they, nor the morally bankrupt man who was just entering the secret room, his wife asleep, his staff gone, was going anywhere.

~~~~~

The secret room held only one thing, although there were many of them, in many personifications.  They all hung on the wall, in identical frames, one right after the other, reaching almost from the floor to the ceiling. 

A pale, blunt fingered hand ran across certain ones as its owner remembered, smiling at the candid photos that shared the frames.  Margaret Thatcher, years before she became Prime Minister, Golda Meir when she was the Israeli Minister of Labor, Madeline Albright at the reception to celebrate her appointment as Secretary of State.  Further on a young Condolezza Rice chatted intently with her advisor at Notre Dame.

Near the end, the man paused, staring at a collection of three women in their own large frame.  Rose Clowderbock, Joanna O'Neil, and Samantha Carter.  The hand lingered over two objects hanging next to the top pictures: a black lace panty with embroidered blue roses and a gossamer thin, fire red silk thong.  Eventually it came to rest on the empty space next to the last photo. 

"Samantha," the man sighed as he gazed at her.  She was in a Ferris wheel gondola, the mountains of Colorado in the background.  Paul Davis, the man she was smiling at, had ruthlessly been cropped out of the picture.      

Sitting down in an armchair specifically put there for this purpose, the statesman eased his hand down under the waistband of his sleepwear.

"Soon, Samantha…" Robert Kinsey promised her, his eyes locked on her radiant face as he relentlessly stroked himself.   

~~~~~

Clad in her dress blues, Sam walked up the steps to the Senate, behind and slightly to the right of Jack, Daniel bringing up the rear.  She could see the tense set of the Colonel's shoulders under his jacket, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat and his dark sunglasses.  Daniel sighed behind her, and in her mind's eye Sam could see him shifting uncomfortably in the dark gray suit, grumbling once again on the injustice of Teal'c getting to play the D.C. tourist instead of having to coming along to this inquisition.

Silently the trio made their way through a pair of double doors and into the bowels of the building, taking a ride in an elevator with a handful of other people going about on the nation's business, walking down plush carpeted halls, eventually stopping outside conference room 34-B.

Senator Kinsey was there, speaking intently with a serious-faced young intern as Paul Davis waited at a discrete distance.  Paul caught Sam's eye and nodded professionally as she just stood and stared in shock.

Paul had grown a goatee, and thanks to an ancestor's Italian genes it had come in dark and thick.  Frankly, it gave him a rather rakish look, and Sam had a hard time concentrating on anything other than the way it framed his luscious mouth, set off his jaw line, and drove a heady spike of lust through her to settle low in her belly.    

"Colonel!"  Senator Kinsey finally dismissed the intern, turning away from the young woman to smile at Jack.  "Glad you could make it."

"Don't mention it," Jack replied stiffly, his voice trying for casual but still holding a shade of insolence anyone familiar with him would recognize.

"I'm sure you all remember Major Davis," commented the senator as Paul stepped up beside him, Kinsey's eyes flicking to Daniel, then resting on Sam.

Sam flashed an absentminded smile, the usual frisson of unease she got every time she was around Kinsey overridden by the sight of Paul in that goatee.  The familiar scent of her love's aftershave drifted over her and Sam bit back a moan. 

"It's good to see you again, Major," she said, amazingly steady, as Jack and Daniel mumbled hellos. 

"Colonel, Doctor, Major."  Paul's face was neutral and his voice even, although there was soft cast to his smile as he greeted Sam.

With Sam and Paul focused entirely on each other, Jack impatient to get this whole thing over with, and Daniel thinking about the pictograms recently found on P2K-519, no one noticed the hot little gleam in Kinsey's eye as he briefly leered at Sam before the bland political mask dropped over his face.

"Well!"  Kinsey rubbed his hands together.  "The Intelligence Oversight Committee awaits us, gentlemen.  And lady."  With a half smirk at the scent of blood in the air, and knowing it wasn't his, the senator opened the conference room doors with a flourish and stepped through, leaving the others to follow.    

~~~~~  

Sam shivered. She wasn't actually cold, although the temperature in D.C. was just as fickle as she remembered. No, her little shudder had far more to do with delicious images and memories occupying her thoughts as she rode in the taxi. Alone, Sam barely took in her surroundings as she pulled out her wallet fishing for the fare, her thoughts lingering on Paul.

Paul with that lovely, lovely goatee! The frame of dark hair around his mouth made him look confident and leaner and oh dear God sexy as hell to boot. Sam had no idea how she'd managed to get through the Senate hearings with any semblance of intelligence, not with Paul looking that incredible and only an arm's length away most of the time. It had been sheer hell not to be able to do more than shoot him a passing glance now and then despite the colonel and Daniel's occasionally teasing nudges. Finally she'd worked up the courage to talk briefly with him in the hall, still in sight of her teammates but out of anyone's hearing.

God. Paul in Class A's with that goatee—it was a wonder she hadn't launched herself at him right there.

"Paul—" she'd croaked.

"Babe. Wanted to surprise you—looks like it worked," his green eyes had twinkled.

"Uh, yeah, you could say that. So—"

Oh she'd been so dry-mouthed and scared, making that unspoken request! But this was Paul and after all their phone calls and e-mails he'd more than understood. A lovely stern look at her, one that heated her whole spine.

"So. Tonight then, my house, eight o'clock. We both know it's time you learned your place, Gattina mio."

With a barely suppressed moan Sam clutched the bills in her hand; the cab slowed down in front of a familiar duplex, the porch light a welcoming beacon. Sam climbed out and pressed the money into the driver's grip, then turned to look towards the front door. A quick dizzying spin of memories spun around her:

Are you sure? I trust you.

Yes. We've talked about the boundaries and I'm getting hard just thinking about it.

I'm looking forward to making you happy--you don't know how much!

Good, Gattina. And the words?

Verde, giallo, rosso—but I don't think we'll need them.

Shhh—we play safe or we don't play at all. What about your company?

They're making their own entertainment—I heard something about the Smithsonian from D and the C and T are going to see The Magic Flute at the Kennedy Center.

Good. So you'll devote your whole night to pleasing me.

Yes.

And you WILL, won't you, Gattina? Be my perfect little pet, happy to see me, be stroked and corrected by me?

God, Paul, don't tease!

It's what you want, babe. We both know it.

Yes, but I want to be WITH you.

Soon. You'll be here tomorrow. I'll have a surprise for you. And sweetheart?

Yes?

Don't touch yourself tonight.

Paul!  *whimper*  You're serious?

Completely, Gattina. Goodnight.

Now here she stood on the front porch fighting the quivers running through her frame as she reached out and rang the bell. Sam felt tense, hot and achy, a delicious sensation that enveloped her from head to toe. The door opened and she drew in a breath.

Paul stood there, his eyes locked on hers, his slightly stern expression halting her urge to hug him. Slowly he held out his hand; instinctively Sam reached to shake it, but suddenly realized that wasn't what he intended, not at all. He brought his knuckles to her lips and softly she kissed them, tasting clean skin. He looked taller, leaner, and was dressed completely in black: a ribbed turtleneck sweater, black suede pants and a coal-black leather cattleman's duster over that.

"Good girl. First rule—don't speak unless asked a question. Come into the living room," Paul murmured, leading the way, not bothering to see if she followed. Sam trailed behind him quickly after closing the door. She badly wanted to kiss more of him.

Paul himself was having a hard time fighting that same desire as it applied to Sam. He closed his eyes, suppressing the taunting urge to just turn around and pounce. Instead, he strode into the living room, concentrating on his next words and listening to Sam behind him.

"I have a wonderful evening planned IF you're a good girl, tesora. Dinner at the Jasmine followed by a long slow hot fuck here at home," he lightly announced, watching Sam's face flush at his words. He enjoyed seeing her shift uneasily from foot to foot; taking pity on her, he dropped into the recliner and let his steady gaze go from her toes to the top of her head.

Sam wore a soft blue dress with a hemline at the knee. Her hair was lightly gelled and she wore a conservative pair of heels. Paul sighed.

"You outfit isn't right, Gattina. I can't show you off if you're going to wear THAT."

Sam glanced down at herself and blinked, at a loss to react. Paul rubbed his chin and smiled.

"Go in my room and change into the outfit laid out for you on my bed." When she hesitated, Paul added, "Now."

Sam dropped her chin and crossed to the staircase with alacrity, making Paul smile.

Once upstairs and inside the bedroom she drew in a quick excited breath when she saw the scrap of black silk on the quilt. With trembling fingers she picked up the slip dress and under it saw the black thigh highs embroidered with tiny gold stars.

Swiftly Sam changed, savoring the feel, the sleek kiss of the cool fabric on her skin. She slowly pulled the thigh highs up and licked her lips, worried. Her pumps were the wrong color to match, but before she could figure out what to do, she heard Paul's voice calling her and she came down, stocking footed, into the living room.

Paul watched her, the sweet heat of lust coiling low in his stomach like a cobra.

"Come here, Gattina mio. You need a few things—some heels of course, and something more—" Paul rose up. With one booted foot he pushed a shoebox across the rug to Sam. She bent over and swiftly Paul stepped up behind her, grinding against her ass, the silk barely an impediment. Sam gave a surprised gasp, but Paul laughed, his fingers flicking the hem of the dress up. He pinched the cotton of her panties.

"These go. I want you naked under this."

Breathing hard, Sam ground back against him, but Paul pulled away.

"Lose them. And put your shoes on tesora. You're almost ready, aren't you my good little pet—" he crooned. Sam shivered again, fighting back her thwarted lust as she opened the shoebox and fished out the black leather ankle strap heels. Paul waited as she put them on with shaky fingers, strapping them neatly and rising up again. He looked at her patiently and in a flash she remembered. Slowly, Sam eased her panties down and off, letting them pool at her feet as she stepped out of them. Paul nodded approvingly, an intense look in his hot green eyes.

"Damn but you're gorgeous. Now kneel."

Sam sank down, biting her lip, her big blue eyes locked on him. Paul drew in a deep, calming breath trying hard to master his own evident desire and stay in control. Although Sam had been the one wanting to play this game, he was astonished at how quickly, how POWERFULLY he himself was responding to taking charge of her. In the sensible real world part of his mind, Paul chided himself for the egotism of making a brilliant scientist and soldier cater to his every little whim.

It was a very short chide, especially after Sam looked up at him and licked her lips. Paul forced his attention back to the matters at hand, and fished into an inner pocket of his coat, drawing out a single glittering strand.

The heavy necklace was of rough gold, twisted into thick links that caught the light. Sam's eyes riveted to it as Paul drew it through his fingers in a slow caress, making it clink.

"Every good pet needs a collar, Gattina, to show she's owed and cared for. Along with your new shoes you'll wear this tonight. Do you like it?"

Sam nodded, finding her voice finally.

"It's beautiful—sir."

"Kiss it—" Paul told her, extending it towards the kneeling woman. Sam tipped her face down and lightly pressed her mouth to the center of the chain, shivering. Paul made a pleased sound and stepped around her, dragging the cold metal around her throat.

"Such a good girl, wearing her collar," he praised, pulling her to her feet. He let his breath heat the back of her neck as his hands moved to cup her full breasts, fingers gliding over her hard nipples.

Sam moaned, fighting to stay perfectly still; Paul was in charge and she didn't dare do anything without his permission. He dropped his mouth to the side of her neck, nuzzling closer, and suddenly his tongue flicked out, licking her in one long hot wet stroke. Instantly Sam tensed, arching to give him better access to her skin, rocking back against Paul and whimpering.

"Ohhhh---" she gurgled. He slid his hands warm and strong along Sam's shoulders, gripping her sleek muscles.

"Touch your chest—"

Sam's hands rose, sliding along her silk-covered diaphragm and up the slope of her breasts, obediently cupping them. Paul sighed.

"I like the look of that. It feels nice through the silk, doesn't it?"

"—Yes—" Sam sighed, her fingers moving in little circles over the fullness. Paul ruthlessly tightened his grip on her shoulders.

"Yes--?" he prompted in a hiss. Sam stiffened.

"Yes SIR!" came her quick gasp. Paul pushed her shoulders and she dropped to her knees again immediately, her hands still on her chest. A spike of fear flavored with spicy lust shot through her, and Sam felt dizzy; she sensed the liquid inferno building between her thighs. 

"You need to remember just who I AM, tesora. Tonight I am Sir, or Master. Anything else is wrong and will be punished. FORGETING to address me properly will be punished. Are we clear on this, Gattina?"

"Yes Master—" Sam whispered quickly, wanting to shift her thighs. She closed her eyes, her mind racing.

No one would have recognized her now, she knew. Despite her occasional eagerness to follow an order from the colonel, Samantha Carter still had the reputation of being a fierce feminist and outspoken critic of traditional roles for women, and yet, here she was, relishing this hidden core of submission, fueled by a drive for perfection even in THIS role of all roles.

Giving in to Paul was easy because it felt so good. So sweetly powerful. So damned sexy she was about to explode—

"Better. Now, let's go have some dinner."

Chapter Two

The Jasmine was a Chinese restaurant with dim lighting and the best Cantonese food in the tricounty area. As Paul ushered Sam in, she noted the décor with a slightly dazed eye: the ubiquitous lanterns with red tassels, the painted screens and fish tanks of slow moving koi. It was a popular spot, judging by the full tables, but a smiling older woman guided them to horseshoe shaped booth and gently placed menus in front of them. Paul shot a glance at Sam.

"It's a wonderful thing I know your tastes so well, Gattina. I'll order for both of us."

Sam gave a mute nod, trying not to squirm. The seat of the booth was cool through the silk of her dress, and a slight draft hit her legs every time that someone walked by their table. Paul glanced briefly at the menu then closed it, sighing.

"Are you hungry?"

Seeing his permission to speak, she nodded.

"Starving… sir—" she quickly remembered to add. Paul flashed a wolfish grin and patted the spot next to him.

"Sit closer. I want your hip next to mine."

The waitress returned and Paul charmed her, tripping over phonetic pronunciations and asking for chopsticks as she brought them two glasses of wine. Sam tried not to jump when his hand slid along her thigh.

"Drink slowly."

She sipped appreciating the tang of the wine on her tongue. Paul watched her, his fingers lightly rubbing on her leg. Sam held her breath a moment looking up at Paul's face. In the dim light of the Jasmine it was touched with exotic planes and angles, making him look less like a major in the Air Force and more like a dangerous man with a shadowy agenda.

"Tesora, are you any good with chopsticks?"

"Passable, sir."

"Good. You're going to feed me."

She tensed; Paul took ruthless advantage of her surprise to slip his hand down the inner curve of her thighs, fingers pushing them apart.

"Ohhh—" she bit back her surprise quickly.

"No spills—" he warned, just as the steaming platters of food arrived. Giggling, the waitress set them down and smiled, handing Paul a pair of elegant ivory chopsticks. He in turn passed them to Sam.

Concentrating, she gripped the lacquered sticks and fished for a bite of the first dish, a crispy beef platter. Carefully Sam lifted a chunk and brought it to Paul's lips, focusing her entire concentration on it. He nibbled.

"Good. Now your turn. A bite for me, a bite for yourself—"

Sam nodded, and as she did so, her collar flashed in the dim light. Paul brazenly slid his hand deeper between her thighs, his cool fingers insinuating themselves with gentle slow advances past the top band of her stockings.

It was one of the most excruciatingly intense dinners Sam had ever had. Every move she made seemed weighted with tension, permeated by lust. Watching Paul's tongue flick out over the proffered food made her squirm, feeling his hand toying between her thighs left her pulse racing, and when he leaned close to her ear Sam gasped as he growled,

"Lift your skirt up—"

Frozen, she stared at him, but he merely licked his lips and added in a low voice, "Giallo?"

She shook her head, and with a sudden rush of brazen courage, wriggled until the silk skirt of the dress was pooled around her hips and her bare flesh rested against the fabric of the seat. Paul gave a low sigh of pleasure, his dark eyes glittering when he studied Sam's slightly flushed face. His erection throbbed and he gave a slow approving nod.

"I'm pleased. Let's talk about dessert."

Sam managed to hide her shiver and lift her chin, her big blue eyes locked on his; for a moment nothing else existed around the two of them. Paul's fingers raked through the soft thatch between her thighs and Sam proudly drew in a soft quivering breath; Paul leaned closer.

"I was thinking of filling the hollow of your throat with warm caramel and licking it off while I lean over your naked body and slowly sink my hot cock into you." Paul added provocatively, "And if you're a good girl I might let YOU come."

Sam bit her lip, hard.

~~~~~

The closer they got to Paul's the tenser Sam found herself. Over the course of a few hours, her desire had tempered into a restless molten need, a need she wasn't sure she could control for much longer.

Every sense she possessed seemed magnified at the moment, and all of them were focused on the man toying with her. She squirmed a little until Paul pulled to the curb outside the duplex. He slid his hand up the back of her head and pulled her hair hard, tilting her face up. Quickly, fiercely he kissed her, taking her breath away, his tongue tasting of green tea, the scrape of his goatee a soft brush over her face.

"I'm going to have you, tesora, very, very soon—"

He climbed out of the car and was halfway up the sidewalk before Sam managed to follow him on shaky legs, her heels making soft tapping sounds on the concrete. She took the keys he handed her and unlocked the door, waiting until he'd entered before following. The minute they were inside the foyer he grabbed her and pushed her shoulders; she sank to her knees, moaning, reaching for his fly, but Paul smacked her hands.

"Teeth only, Gattina—" came his impudent tone, tinged with hoarse desire.

She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his strong thighs and closed her teeth on the cool metal tab, tugging frantically. The process wasn't made any easier by the hard swell of his cock bulging the fabric up against her face, but Sam persevered and eased his zipper open, sighing as his shaft grazed against her cheek, leaving a pearly streak there. Paul groaned, his hands coming to brace on her shoulders.

"Fuuuuck—" he gasped drinking in the sight of her adoring blue eyes gazing with smoldering lust up at him. Arching his hips, he brought the head of his cock to rest on her lips, smearing it with the coral of her gloss.

"Taste—" he ordered tersely. Sam eagerly opened her mouth. Paul stroked his cock over her tongue, groaning with pleasure at the heat of it along the thick vein on the underside of his shaft. He fought hard to maintain control, but so much of him simply wanted to luxuriate in this wild pleasure and Paul indulged himself for a few long moments before forcing himself away with a low curse.

He swung away from her and without even zipping up, slowly peeled off his coat and dropped it, then moved to the overstuffed sofa in the living room, flicking on a single lamp. Sam stayed on her knees in the foyer, watching him, her slender frame trembling as she did so. Paul narrowed his eyes.

"Over here. NOW—" he barked, male hunger heavy in his voice. Sam scrambled, moving on all fours to him, crawling eagerly. Paul threw himself on the sofa arrogantly, thighs wide, his cock surging forth from his dark slacks. Sam stared as he slid off his belt and draped it over his palm.

"You need a leash to go for a ride, Gattina mio—" he announced with a slightly evil smile.

Dizzy, dry-mouthed, Sam slithered over to him, and Paul looped the belt through her necklace, gathering the ends in on hand. He yanked, pulling her face to his.

"First though, kisses, tesora. Show me you love your master—"

Sam slammed her mouth on his, writhing with an uncontrolled joy when Paul's arms came around her body, pulling her onto him. The thin silk dress held heat, and shifted sensually all over her skin as she slid her tongue deep into Paul's waiting mouth. He tugged the belt a few times just to tease her; Sam dedicated herself to kissing the breath out of them both. She straddled him, cupping his face to play with the goatee, her tongue wetly dueling with his until he shortened the leash and slowly pulled her back from him with it. Sam was breathing hard now, and loving how wild he looked, how his green eyes blazed.

"Hold that dress up and ride me—nice and slow, lover, take me in deep—" Paul ordered. Sam rose to her knees and lifted the black silk to her waist, reaching for the hard hot length of Paul's cock, guiding it between her thighs which were wet with exertion and lust. Paul took her free hand and braced it on his chest where she gripped his shirt. Slowly, slowly she lowered herself onto him, a low delighted cry of pleasure surging out of her throat as his shaft began to push through her velvety folds.

Paul tensed, biting his full lower lip. He chuffed a breath and Sam sank deeper, her fingers clutching his shirt as she did so.

"Oooohhyeah! Luscious baby, ALL mine, such a good pussy you are, Gattina, Mmmmmmm yesss—" Paul groaned, his hips thrusting up. Sam's head lolled back and her breathing had gone fast and shallow; Paul tugged on the belt, making the necklace jingle with a sweet musical tone.

"Pussy on a leash, good baby, ride me slow but don't come, tesora, not yet—See us? See how fucking HOT your pussy looks taking me in?"

Sam whimpered briefly, moving in a sweet bounce as she watched, wide-eyed, building a rhythm as their bodies strained slickly with each other, the creak of the sofa a counterpoint to their groans and sighs.

"Ahhhhh—" Sam pleaded, the fingers of one hand digging into Paul's chest while the other held her dress up. It fluttered with every thrust, and the sweetly lewd sight of Paul's thick cock straining its way deep into her sent shivers through them both.

Taking tender pity on her and barely able to hold back himself, Paul lightly rubbed his thumb over her swollen little bud where it peeped out amid the wet blonde curls between her stocking covered thighs.

"Time to come for me, Sam. Be a good girl and come nice and HARD, sweet baby. I need you pulling my load out of me, come on—" he grunted, using his other hand to tug on the belt. Sam, already teetering on the edge, tensed for an agonizing sweet stroke down and exploded, shuddering, her spine arching as she joyously screamed her orgasm. Paul's head rocked back and his hips thrust hard, powerful jabs that lifted himself and Sam off the couch for a moment as he groaned, coming deep and fluidly within her.

They slumped together on the sofa, numb and speechless, shells of themselves with no energy or will for a long time. Sam lay quietly trembling on Paul, face buried in the hollow of his neck, and Paul wrapped his arms around her protectively.

Timeless moments passed, that odd intensity that made minutes into hours when Paul finally stirred. He drew in a breath and lightly stroked Sam's spine.

"Babe?" he asked, very very softly. She stirred a little, but didn't look at him. He tried again.

"Sam?"

She made a sound into his shirt and he kissed her hair.

"I—that—God, I don't even know HOW to begin—" he offered brokenly, his voice deep and slow. "I'm not LIKE that. You know it. But tonight—I saw you, and what you were ready to do for me, and it was like nothing I've EVER had in my life!"

Sam stirred, very gently shifting her head to face him, her hair damp and sticking out in wild angles, her blue eyes vulnerable and sweet. She smiled, reaching out a tentative hand to his mouth and Paul kissed her fingers.

"I pleased you?" she asked in sleepy awe. Paul shuddered deeply, his gaze looking with hers, then he closed his eyes in sheer content.

They slept, still joined.

~~~

Chapter Three

Glancing at her watch as she bounded through the hotel doors the next afternoon, Sam noticed it was only 1:30.  She had gotten through the errands she need to run with plenty of time to spare, and there was just about two hours before she was to meet Paul.

Just thinking about him sent delicious shivers through her.  Sam had been on cloud nine the entire morning, striding through the streets of Alexandria with her head high and an immense sense of satisfaction and pride.   Fully expecting to still be in somewhat of a subservient mindset, Sam wasn't prepared for the feeling of power that flooded through her when she woke up next to Paul in his bed.

Sure, he had been the one holding the leash last night, but she was the one that had made his body ache for her, her name that he had cried out as she obeyed him, bringing him pleasure over and over again.  

Restless energy ran though Sam again as the memories of last night flashed through her head, forgoing the elevator she started up the stairs to see of she could calm herself down.  

Pushing open the stairwell door, Sam stopped short as she saw the door to her room slowly ease open.  Late afternoon plus no housekeeping cart equaled someone who probably wasn't supposed to be there.  Sam ducked back into the stairwell, leaving the door ajar just enough to see who was coming out of her room. 

She blinked in surprise as a man wearing a striped work shirt and khakis, lugging a carryall emerged; it was one of the hotel's electricians. He was a rather nondescript man, on the short side, slightly balding, looking so much like who he was supposed to be that it was only the furtive way he glanced up and down the corridor as he came out that put Sam on alert. 

She waited until he had passed from her sight and heard the ding of the elevator as it arrived, then sprinted out to make sure the car was going down.  Bolting for the stairwell, Sam took the steps two at a time, barely having time to plant herself behind a marble column before the elevator door opened. 

An elderly man and woman got out, but there was no sign of the electrician.  Sam was cursing to herself for losing him when right as the doors closed she realized the man wearing the dark t-shirt, sports coat, and sunglasses was the 'electrician', the carryall set behind his feet.

Back down the steps to the parking garage Sam ran.  Luckily the man got off on the first level, Sam trailed him enough to see him get into a green Ford sedan.  Weaving her way though the parked cars, Sam jogged up the ramp to the street above, flagging down a cab. 

"I need you to follow someone for me," she said, keeping an eye on the ticket booth for the garage.

"You're kidding me," the cab driver said with a deep Pakistani accent.

"No, really," Sam insisted.  "Him, in the Ford Taurus." 

With a long suffering sigh, the cabbie put the car in drive and followed the fake electrician.  "Is this going to get me shot?" he asked.

"Ahh, I don't think so… "  Sam trailed off as she leaned forward in the seat, keeping her eyes on the car ahead of them.

"He's moving over!"

"Don't worry, ma'am, I won't lose him.  So, who is he?  Cheating husband?  Unfaithful boyfriend?  No, don't tell me-- Russian spy."

San didn't say anything and the cabbie fell silent as they passed over the Potomac and made their way into Northwest D.C.

"Foxhall Road.  Very fancy neighborhood," the driver said half to Sam, half to himself.  Sam peeked furtively from the back seat as the Ford pulled up into the circular driveway of a long, low white house with a deep front porch.

"3224 Foxhall Crescent Drive.  Plate H87-158," Sam whispered. 

"It's a rental," the cabbie tossed over his shoulder.

Sam looked back at the house as they passed it, then to the driver.  "The house?  How do you know?"

"The car," the driver said.  "The H.  It means it's a for hire car, like mine, or a rental."

"Oh, okay, thanks."

"Where to now, lady?" asked the cabbie as he turned the car around in the cul-de-sac.

"Back to the hotel," Sam told him, remembering just in time to duck as they passed the house again.

~~~~~

"Hello, Paul."

Proof of his years working in Washington, Paul didn't show any evidence of surprise as Lily Ibarra fell into step next to him as he made his way down 12th Street.  She was dressed in a tailored suit by some designer Paul was sure he wouldn't recognize, and her hair had been cut, falling slightly past her shoulders.

"Lily," he finally said after a block of winding their way through the sparse afternoon crowd.  "You're looking well."

A ghost of a smile passed over Lily's perfectly made up lips.  "So do you.  You're… more relaxed.  But I thought the Air Force didn't allow beards?"

"They're thinking of changing the regs to go with the new uniforms coming out this fall.  I volunteered to try it out."

"I see.  Well, you look dashing in it."

Paul fell silent as they walked further, waiting for Lily to bring up why she was there, but his ex-fiancée remained mute as they passed the Museum of Natural History.  Finally as they reached the Department of Agriculture and the Freer Gallery, Paul's patience snapped.

"What do you want, Lily?"

Lily sighed.  "Not as relaxed as I thought.  I don't want anything, Paul.  I've come to warn you."

"About what?"  A yellow Frisbee arcing over the Mall caught Paul's eye; he watched as a black and white dog jumped up and snagged it neatly in its mouth, earning cheers from a nearby group of kids.

"Samantha.  And her-- "

His attention fully back to Lily, Paul whipped his head around to face her.  "I swear, Lily, if you—"

"Get over yourself, Paul."  Lily shot him a look loaded with exasperation.  "We were through long before she showed up.  I'm talking about her and Kinsey.  Or more accurately, Kinsey and the other high profile women at that so called 'space telemetry' lab she works at."

"What do mean 'so called'?" Paul lobbed back, stalling as he wondered how much she knew.  "Sam's an astrophysicist.  Where else would she work?" 

Lily sighed again.  "I'm not here to argue.  You, of all people, should know I'm not stupid.  I've picked up enough things here and there and while I might not know everything that's going on I can make a few educated guesses.  Besides being a self-righteous power-monger, which I'm sure you're already well aware, Kinsey is also a sick bastard.

"Religious fanaticism, delusions of grandeur, and a desperate need for control can add up to some pretty twisted notions regarding women, especially those in positions of power.  They don't conform to his misogynistic view of where a woman's place is… mostly under his foot, but for them, he prefers a different part entirely."

She glanced over at Paul, making sure he caught her meaning.  "And he isn't above collecting mementoes of theirs either." 

Paul was silent, not quite believing what she was, or wasn't, saying.

"And you know this positively?"

"I don't know anything for sure.  But Stratton and Kinsey can't stand each other, and soon after one of their clashes we had what we thought was an attempted break-in.  Only one thing was missing, a certain something from my dresser drawer, but how can you be sure, right?  The next night at a reception Kinsey was smugger than I've ever seen him.  It wasn't until I learned more about him that I put two and two together."

A small part of Paul mulled over the interesting fact that Lily called her fiancé by his last name as the rest of him digested what she had just told him.  

Stopping suddenly, Lily waited as Paul backtracked to her.  "Sam needs to watch out for him, Paul.  Yeah, I know," Lily went on as Paul opened his mouth, "She's an astrophysicist.  Although I don't know why an astrophysicist would have a Colonel with black ops training as her commanding officer.  Or why she would be working with a threat assessor.  Ms. MacGyver, I believer her name is?  Didn't know the universe out there was such a big, bad, place."

You have no idea… Paul thought frantically.  Lily always had been sharp as a tack, hiding it well under those lush curves of hers.  He desperately tried to keep a game face as she went on.

"The point is, Paul, not only is Kinsey not to be trusted in general, he's certainly not to be trusted around your girlfriend, so watch out for her.  And tell that Colonel to watch out for his Ms. MacGyver, along with any other women who might have crossed Kinsey."    

Paul nodded, looking at Lily as she brushed a strand of hair away from her face.  "So what do you want?"

A mocking smile twisted her mouth.  "Why Paul, I'm crushed.  Really I am.  Can't an old friend help another out?"

"Lily…" Paul warned.

"I don't want anything, Paul.  Our breakup may have been bad but it doesn't hurt as much anymore, and I still think of you as a friend.  Consider this a favor, which doesn't have to be returned."

"Now."

She shrugged.  "If in the future you find yourself in a position to help me or mine, I would hope that you would.  As a friend."  Lily leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.  "Good bye, Paul.  Take care of her."

Paul watched as Lily turned and walked away, getting into a limo waiting at the corner.  His mind was full of the things she told him, and those that she danced around; with a muffled curse Paul took off for Sam's hotel.    

~~~~~

Standing in the middle of her hotel room, Sam frowned furiously and stared unseeing at the pale walls.  She had spent the last forty-five minutes going over the room with a fine-tooth comb but had found no trace of bugs or hidden cameras.  Everything was as she had left it, and if she hadn't seen the 'electrician' come out Sam would never have known anyone had been in her room.

So why had he been there?

"Sam?"

Jack's sudden voice made her jump; spinning around she saw the rest of her teammates in the doorway, all gazing at her with expressions ranging from concerned to amused.

"Ah, it was open, so we just walked on in… are you okay?" Daniel asked, blinking at her startled look.

"Well—"  Sam took a deep breath to steady herself and quickly explained.

"What was the address again?" Jack demanded, coming further in the room as Daniel chided Sam for following the fake electrician on her own.

"I didn't want him to get away," Sam explained before turning to Jack.  "3224 Foxhall Crescent Drive."  She watched as Jack's mouth pressed into a thin, hard line. 

"You know the place?" she asked, amazed.

"Its Kinsey's house," he answered tersely.

"What about Kinsey?"

With a strange sense of deja vue, Jack, Daniel, and Teal'c turned as Paul came into the room. 

"Sam?"  Coming to stand next to her, Paul laid his hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly.  "What about Kinsey, babe?"

She told her story once more, feeling better now that Paul was there, as Jack began a systematic sweep of the room. 

"I've already done that, sir, I didn't find anything.  And nothing is missing, either."

Paul's thoughts flashed back to the conversation he just had with Lily, and his eyes flicked over to the low dresser.  Sam had said nothing was taken, but she wouldn't have thought to check…

"I need to talk to Sam a minute," he said suddenly.  Jack and Daniel frowned at him while Teal'c merely raised an eyebrow.

"Davis… " warned Jack.  "Now is not the time—"

"Sir," Paul interrupted.  "This might be relevant, but if it isn't I don't want to embarrass Sam.  I'll explain, I promise."

Daniel pulled on Jack's arm.  "Come on."  The three men left the room, Sam turning to Paul, puzzled.

"Paul, what's going on?"  He seemed on edge to her, and a small part worried that he had second thoughts about last night.

"Did you check to see if any clothing was missing?"

"What?"  Sam attempted to shift mental gears.  "Clothes?"

"Just check," Paul asked.  "Start with your lingerie," he said as she moved toward the closet.

Throwing him a look that clearly showed she thought he was nuts, Sam changed directions and opened the top drawer to the dresser, swiftly taking inventory.

Paul watched, waiting, as Sam shook her head and shut the drawer. 

"It's all there," she said, moving to the other drawers.

Frowning, Paul tried to figure out why Kinsey's man would have been in Sam's room.  It might have had nothing to do with Lily's warning, but it was too much of a coincidence…

A sick feeling of dread came over Paul as he realized what the intruder could have taken.

"Sam."  The tight, intense tone of his voice made her look up in surprise.

"Where's your laundry bag?"

Eyes wide, Sam slowly turned to her luggage, sitting on the stand over in the corner.  Just as slowly, she walked over to the innocuous suitcase and lifted the top to show a solitary mesh bag sitting limply inside.

"Oh God…"  Sam's hand fluttered up to cover her mouth as Paul came to stand beside her.  "What's missing, babe?"

"The pink pair you had me take off last night.  You're saying he took them for Kinsey?"  Trailing off, she looked up at Paul, distress clear on her face. 

Gathering her into his arms, Paul held Sam as she tried to work her way through this disturbing piece of news.  A knock on the door interrupted them, Jack's voice coming through the metal.

"Are you done yet?"

Reluctantly pulling away from Paul, Sam crossed the small room to let her teammates in.

Teal'c took one look at her pale face and glared at Paul.  "What has transpired?"

Sam glanced back at Paul before answering.  "We found out why the man was in here."

"And?" Jack demanded, not so patiently.

"He took a pair of my … undergarments, sir," Sam managed to get out, but only by keeping her eyes focused two inches to Jack's left.

"You're kidding me."

"And now Kinsey presumably has them," Daniel concluded wryly.

"Probably not just Sam's."  All eyes swung to Paul.

"Mind elaborating on that, Major?" Jack asked quietly.

Straightening his shoulders at the tone of command, Paul faced Jack.  "I just had an enlightening conversation with an old… friend.  She basically warned me about Kinsey's unhealthy obsession with women who he's run up against."

Paul fell silent as he locked eyes with Jack, understanding passing between them before he looked over at Teal'c.  The Jaffa's laid back manner was gone, and Paul could see why he had risen to the position of Apophis' First Prime.

"Senator Kinsey has too long been a thorn in the side of Stargate Command," Teal'c rumbled, his voice flinty.  "I will not stand by and allow him to sully Joanna's honor."

"I've had about up to here with that son of a bitch!  I don't care who he is, he's going down."  Cursing to blister paint, Jack started for the door, Daniel jumping to get out of his way before Paul called him back.

"Sir!  We can't just go storming over the Senator's residence and demand he hand over… certain items."  Paul held his breath as Jack's hand clenched into a fist before he released it with a shake and turned around.

"I am not going back to Colorado knowing that that sick motherfucker is jacking off with a pair of Rose's panties!"  Each word brought Jack closer to Paul until they were nose to nose.  "And if I find out he has the pair with the blue flowers on them, I'm cutting his dick off myself!"

"Which leaves his liver to me," a satisfied Teal'c intoned.

The four nonplussed humans paused a moment before Daniel spoke.

"Ah, liver?"

"The source of one's masculinity," Teal'c explained.  "It will bring me great pleasure in cutting it from his body as he watches."

"Really," Daniel asked avidly, the latent anthropologist in him perking up.  "That's interesting you consider the liver—"

"Danny!"  Jack reined him in.  "Later."

Paul jumped in before the conversation could get any more bloodthirsty.  "We have no proof.  Nothing concrete."

"Then we'll go in and find proof.  I really don't care about the niceties in dealing with this rat bastard."  Pushing back his sleeve, Jack glanced at his watch. 

"It's gotta be tonight.  We're supposed to be back tomorrow afternoon and I'm not leaving without finding out what the hell Kinsey is doing with Sam's—well, you know," he ended lamely.

Nodding tersely, Paul agreed.  "Kinsey usually goes to his club Saturday nights when he doesn't have a fundraiser to go to, I'll call around and make sure.  He stays rather late, but we need someway of getting in."

"What about Daniel?"  The four men turned to look at the previously quiet Sam.  "He could go to Kinsey's house, say that… he has some information for Kinsey, and let us in the back while he 'waits'."         

Jack shook his head.  "Four's too many."

"You're not leaving me out of this," Sam said incredulously.  "He's got MY underwear!  Sir."

Daniel chewed his lower lip as he thought quickly, and spoke to Paul.  "If Kinsey is this paranoid deviant with irreconcilable esteem problems regarding women like your informant says, then maybe Sam should be the one to go to his house.  Although if she's in uniform she could say she's dropping off something for the senator; she could let Jack and Teal'c into the study and they would search for the… evidence.  Assuming it's even there."

"I'm going in too."  Paul was emphatic. 

Jack stared at both determined majors for a moment, seeing more than they probably would have liked.  "All right.  Daniel, you keep an eye on Kinsey tonight so we don't get caught.  Let's get moving, we've got a lot of things to do."

~~~~~ 

Chapter Four

After all the planning, it was ridiculously easy to get inside, Jack thought.  The perimeter alarm system was quickly dispatched; Mrs. Kinsey had gone to a function of her own, letting most of the staff off for the night and leaving only the housekeeper around to let Sam in, who in return let Jack, Teal'c and Paul slip through the study window.

Daniel had figured with Kinsey being the type of man that he was, he would somehow have the items displayed for his own enjoyment, not jumbled up in a back drawer.  And it would have to be where the senator would have some privacy getting at it.

Once in, therefore, the three men started a systematic search of the study as Sam watched for the housekeeper.  Eventually though, they had to admit defeat, and as one their eyes lifted to the ceiling as if they could stare through the plaster and joists and see what they were searching for.

Her allowed time up, Sam reluctantly let herself out as Jack, Teal'c, and Paul crept upstairs, opening numerous closed doors and peeking into their rooms until finally, one revealed Kinsey's bedroom.

A low whine froze the men in their tracks as they entered; they glanced over to see a large dog lying on the bed, thumping its tail on the counterpane.

"Oscar!" Jack called out to the dog, his voice low.  "Hey, boy, how ya doin'?"

With a soft chuff the animal hopped down from the bed and came over to lick Jack's hand, his body almost wriggling with pleasure.  Scratching him behind the ears, Jack made good-doggy noises to Oscar as Teal'c and Paul waited not so patiently. 

"O'Neill, should we not hasten to complete our mission?" 

Jack gave the dog one last pat and stood up.  "Yeah, all right.  Spread out."  Each man took a wall, his focus entirely in front of him until Oscar gave another low chuff.

"Not now," Jack called over his shoulder.

Paul glanced over to see Oscar sitting, almost expectantly, in front of a paneled section of the room.  "Sir?  I think Oscar knows where it is."

As soon as Jack walked over to him, Oscar began snuffling at a section of the wood molding.  Jack fiddled with it for a moment, the with a dull click the section right in front of him swung in to show a narrow room with small spot lights accentuating the myriad of frames and their contents blanketing the wall.

Stunned at just how many souvenirs Kinsey had collected over the years, Jack, Teal'c, and Paul silently walked the length of the room, stopping at the display containing the three women from SGC.

Jack swore a blue streak to match the embroidery on Rose's panties, nearly tearing the material in his haste to take them and the accompanying picture down.  As Jack folded the pair and stuffed them in a pocket, a furious Teal'c reached up to Joanna's thong and photo, his large hand almost covering the red silk, lifting it free of the pins holding it in place.  Paul did the same, his jaw tight with anger as he retrieved Sam's pink cotton panties and the familiar snap shot.

Leaving the empty frame, the men made their way back to Kinsey's room, Paul pausing in the hidden doorway.

"Sir, I don't feel comfortable leaving the other… items there."

Jack sighed, tuning back toward the major.  "We've done this, Davis.  Frankly, it's not our place, and it gives us leverage over him.  Don't have leverage if there's no… stuff to leverage him with." 

Nodding, Paul moved to close the door.

"Leave it open, won't you?" a refined, feminine voice dropped into the silence.

Caught unaware, the men turned slowly to see Mrs. Kinsey standing in the doorway to the hall.  She walked up to Jack, staring into his face with a look of half recognition. 

"Colonel O'Neill, isn't it?"

"Yes ma'am."

Her eyes flicked past him to rest on Teal'c, then Paul.  "I don't believe I've met your friends."

"No ma'am."  Jack watched her, on edge, as she strolled past him and paused outside the hidden door. 

Paul made a move to stop her, but was checked by Jack's shake of his head.  The trio waited, the moments stretching on as Kinsey's wife walked the secret room.  Oscar came and sat next to Jack, the dog's tongue lolling out, a comic counter point to the tension in the air.

Coming back to the bedroom, a paler, shaken Mrs. Kinsey looked at the men again.  "I assume you emptied the last frame?"

"Yes ma'am."  Jack looked at her with sympathy.  "You're not very surprised."

A smile twisted her mouth.  "I've been married to Robert Kinsey for over twenty years, Colonel."  Her eyes dropped, glancing thoughtfully at Oscar leaning against Jack's leg.  "He seems to like you.  Take him, he's yours."

"Ma'am?"  This wasn't what Jack had been expecting, and it made him nervous.   

"Take the dog.  I insist.  Oh, and use the front door when you leave, I don't want you stepping on the hydrangeas."

Mrs. Kinsey and Jack stared at each other a moment before Jack finally relaxed a touch.  "You heard the lady.  Let's go."

Teal'c bowed as he passed her, Paul muttering an awkward 'Ma'am' as he left.  Halfway out the door Jack looked back over his shoulder to see Mrs. Kinsey enter the hidden room again.  

~~~~~

"You took his dog, sir?"  Sam stared in shock as Oscar scrambled into the back seat to sit between Teal'c and Jack, his doggy breath quickly filling the cramped sedan and fogging up the windows. 

"The missus gave him to us," Jack said casually.

She looked over at Paul who just shrugged and glanced away, fighting a grin. 

Sam turned back to Jack.  "Mrs. Kinsey wasn't supposed to be there."

"Well, she was."

"And?  Sir?" she added belatedly.

"She didn't call the cops if that's what you're asking, Carter.  It's obvious the Kinsey marriage isn't on as solid ground as it used to be, if it ever was.  Now let's go.  I'm getting hungry." 

Sam started the car, pulling smoothly into the light traffic on Foxhall Road.  "Did you call Daniel?" 

"Yes, Carter, I called him on our way here."  Pulling Oscar onto his lap, Jack scratched the large dog behind the ears, sending one of his back legs into spasms against Teal'c's thigh.

Teal'c sighed imperceptibly and pointedly looked out the window.

~~~~~

Coming out of his club, Robert Kinsey jogged down the steps to his waiting limo, pleased with the world and his place in it.  He hadn't had time earlier to do much more than hang the item Jones had retrieved for him, and was looking forward to spending some quality time with a glass of aged scotch and Samantha.

Barely acknowledging his driver with terse instructions to take him home, Kinsey passed through the car's open door and slid across the leather seat.  It took him a few moments before, out of the corner of his eye, he registered the shoe and khaki pant leg, with a start he looked up to see Dr. Jackson smiling coolly at him.

True to form, however, the bland political mask slipped over Kinsey's face even as his mind was churning with a few off-the-mark reasons why Daniel Jackson would be waiting for him like this, late at night and alone.

"I'll make this brief," Jackson said, still wearing the enigmatic smile.  "We know about the room, and we know what's in the room.  Although not as many as before," he added, the smile turning mockingly apologetic.

Kinsey quickly controlled the icy spike of fear that shot through him, the limo rocking slightly.  This overgrown geek and his gung-ho cohorts couldn't possibly know anything.  "I haven't the slightest idea of what you're taking about, Dr. Jackson."

"Of course you don't," the smug bastard replied smoothly. 

Kinsey ground his teeth at the dismissive tone in the other man's voice.  SG-1 and their arrogant, know it all attitude, playing fast and loose with Earth's fate was an affront to him and the American people.  Kinsey took great pleasure in dreaming of the day when he would seize control of the Stargate program, ousting that incompetent Hammond, court-martialing him, O'Neill, and Carter, and throwing Jackson and MacGyver in jail for a very long time.  The alien Jaffa, along with that cloned lover of his, was going straight to the NID labs.  The scientists there had been chomping at the bit to dissect him for years, and they had practically gone into spasms when the other O'Neill had shown up.  Her and Teal'c's very existence was an abomination in Kinsey's eyes, as was their relationship.

"There was talk of castration," Jackson continued offhandedly while Kinsey continued to fume, "and mention of cutting your liver out as you watched, but in the end the petty revenge plans were abandoned.  However," and here Jackson leaned forward to make his point.  "If it happens again, they won't be."

"You piss-ant little man," Kinsey ground out, finally losing his temper.  "You dare to come to come here and threaten me?  Over those harlots?"

The smile was back, and Kinsey longed to wipe it off Jackson's face.  Sitting in impotent frustration, he watched as Jackson reached for the door and hopped out, the limo having come to a stop at a red light.

"I won't forget this, Dr. Jackson!" he called out after him.

The solid thunk of the door closing was his only answer.

*****