TITLE: 900 (1/2) AUTHOR: Tokyo Shapiro E-MAIL ADDRESS: c/o the publishers at rsdforty2@aol.com FEEDBACK: Good or Bad, especially Constructive, always welcome DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere-but we appreciate knowing where SPOILER WARNING: End of First Season, Humbug, but nothing critical RATING: NC-17 CLASSIFICATION: S, R KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully: Sex, no romance. DISCLAIMER: Any X Files related characters are the property of Chris Carter and Fox Television, we just borrowed them, played with them, and now we're giving them back. Thank you kindly. SUMMARY: Mulder sublimates his sexual attraction to Scully by calling 900 numbers AUTHOR'S NOTES: Originally published in the fanzine "Red Speedo Diaries #1" by Two Plums and a Gherkin Press 900 (1/2) by Tokyo Shapiro July 1994 Washington D.C. The room in which he worked was dark, lit only by the faint glow outlining the blinds at the windows. If he cared to inspect the illumination, an activity of which he'd tired days ago, he could tell when the traffic light at the corner turned from red to green to yellow and back to red again by the faint color reflected by the window frames. At this hour of the morning, the traffic light had switched to a steady flashing red. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. Red, pause, red, pause, red. "Go to red alert, Mr. Sulu," he mumbled around a lone sunflower seed. Using the tip of his tongue, he pushed the shell to his lips. Drawing a deep breath, he thought, Fire photon torpedoes, and expelled the shell forcefully. It stuck to the ceiling, next to several other successful volleys. You never knew when you would have to perform an act of expectoration and he planned to be in fine form when the time came. The dry-cleaners below had been closed for hours, and now the silence was broken momentarily by the voice-activated tape recorder whirring to life. Fox Mulder leaned forward and pushed aside the paper wrappings of his fast food dinner to find the headphones. He slipped them over his ears. It was Harry. Horny Harry, as Mulder had come to know him. The touch-tones had started. One, two, three... eleven numbers altogether. Given the time of day--night--morning--Mulder guessed that he was making a call to one of the sex lines. This wouldn't be the first, in fact, it would be the third, but with any luck, it would also be the last. Mulder didn't enjoy putting himself in danger, but if he didn't see some action soon, he was going to hang himself with some of magnetic tape he was choking on lately. He had accepted his reassignment after the closing of the X-Files with barely contained frustration and his discontent sat in his stomach like sour milk. Worse, his new work had kept him interested for about three minutes, long enough to get the goods on some low-level clerks with loose lips, and now he felt that he was just spinning his wheels. While he listened in on Harry's schmoozing and whoring, the truth was hopping a freight train for parts unknown. He hated this. It was getting harder to quell his impatience. Harry'd incriminated himself ten times over. After turning the evidence over to Skinner, Mulder assumed that he'd be pulled off the case, but as of yet, the call hadn't come. This was punishment, pure and simple. All they had to do was phone Harry, make an appointment and arrest him. "Hello. You've reached Sin-sational Swingers. If you have a touch tone phone, please press one now..." a woman with a deep, sultry voice requested. "Beep." "Hi Baby," she continued. "If you'd like to charge this call to your Visa, press one, to MasterCard, press two, to Discover , press three, to American Express, press four...If you have an account with Swingers, please stay on the--" "Beep." "Please enter your credit card number, then press pound..." Mulder wondered if Harry was using his company credit card. Some of his strip club visits had been charged to it, leaving a nice clean paper trail. It was a toss-up, Mulder had decided, as to what exactly was motivating Harry to sell information. He seemed to spend more on the pursuit of decadence that he could possibly be benefiting from it. The last two weeks had been dedicated almost totally to wooing his potential contacts. Maybe he was just lonely. Obviously, given the frequently sexual nature of his entertainment, the guy had no wife or girlfriend. He spent all his time trying to get himself and his contacts laid. "Hi. This is Camille. Who's this?" That voice! "Dirk." "Hi, Dirk. What are you in the mood for tonight, Dirk?" As if they can't get your name from the credit card verification, Mulder thought, smirking. The first time it'd been Lance. The second, he'd been Rock. Sheesh, Freud would've loved you, buddy. There's a soap opera somewhere missing a writer. Mulder found Harry entertaining after a long, dull day of taping extraneous evidence. Mulder wondered if Scully would find this amusing, too. Now there's a disturbing, intriguing thought...Scully and sex in the same sentence. He missed Scully, whenever he let himself think about her. Could it have been his ego, or had she actually begun to share in his excitement over exploring the X-Files? She was teaching again. No, teaching probably suits her. It's just your ego, Mulder. "I want you to suck me..." Harry croaked. Shame on you, Harry, sounds like you got a head start... "Mmmm, I love to suck big cocks, Dirk. I'll bet you're really big, too...." Go on, tell her how big... "You know those foot long hot dogs at the ball games...? Twelve inches, that's how big I am." Thanks a lot, Harry, old pal. If I ever needed a reason to give up hot dogs... "Oh, Dirk. I'm gonna make you even bigger. You want to know what I'm doing right now?" "What?" Harry gasped. Camille launched into her monologue. Mulder settled back in his chair to listen, hoping that Harry would keep his mouth shut for a while so that he could just listen to Camille. This was the second time during this surveillance that he had heard her voice and if he put himself in the right frame of mind, Mulder thought that Camille sounded just like Scully, that is, if Scully was a horny exhibitionist who enjoyed getting men off over the phone. An analytical part of his mind noted remarkable similarities between Camille's cotton-covered huskiness and the unique modulation of Scully's precise speech patterns. The analysis was mercifully brief. Instead, he concentrated on the teasing tone in her voice, letting his imagination roam. The ever-intrusive thoughts of his ex-partner mingled with a persistent feeling of loss. Camille was describing her clothing and how she was divesting herself of the same. Suddenly, Mulder was riding a familiar wave of testosterone, fueled by long suppressed urges. He let it all wash over him as he wrapped his mind around Camille's prurient description. He felt a welcome thrill at her vulgar words. Mulder let her voice fill a yearning, primal void and he wantonly imagined Scully at the other end of the line. There was a part of him that held Scully in the highest regard: a trusted partner, a quietly supportive friend, a professional worthy of his unmitigated respect. That part of Mulder sat by, dumbstruck, as the rest of him imagined lapping Canadian beer from her navel. It's okay, we don't work together any more, his libido reassured his conscience. It can be our little secret. She'll never, ever have to know. He got very comfortable with the idea of his partner talking dirty to him. She was wearing black stockings and a garter belt. Her lacy bra was the type that hooked in the front and she undid it, pulling it aside to reveal creamy white breasts and stiff, rosy nipples. "I'm so hot, Dirk. I'm so wet. I'm going to show you now...are you watching, Dirk?" Harry's panting provided an agitated backbeat to her breathy description. Mulder's hands drifted down between his legs and massaged his burgeoning erection. She didn't describe her hair, but Mulder envisioned the soft, copper-colored locks framing her face. The hairs closest to her face were dark with sweat and clung to her forehead and cheeks. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted slightly, her breath coming in time with her heartbeat and she abandoned herself to the stimulation and imminent orgasm. His hands moved to the beat of that imagined meter. "I'm spreading my legs, Dirk, can you see everything? Can you see my--" Suddenly the scene dissolved and he was in a hotel room. She had her back to him and was lowering her robe, exposing the pale skin of her back and a trim waist above silk bikini panties. There were bumps to be examined. She was afraid, nearly panicked. He sank to his knees and embraced her from behind, wanting to comfort, to protect her. He pressed his lips to the mosquito bites. Under his tongue, the bumps melted away, as did her fear. Her warm musky aroma filled his nostrils. In this hotel room, she turned around. She gazed down at him, cupped his face and demanded his attention. "Yes....." She breathed softly. On the phone, Camille panted and Harry groaned. In the dim room above a dry-cleaners, Fox Mulder, his trousers open, ejaculated into a napkin from Subway. March 1995 Gibsonton, Florida Dana Scully glanced over at her partner as the Blockhead and the Enigma drove away. The Future, she thought as a smiled pulled at the corner of her mouth. I don't know whether to be reassured or horrified. "Private joke?" he asked in a voice Scully would have called bland were it not for the giveaway twinkle in his eye. "Location joke," she replied. "Had to be there, huh?" He gave a little snort and shook his head as he headed for their car. She followed, feeling better than another unsolved case should've allowed. It was good to see Mulder's humor returning after the tightrope he'd seemed to be walking this past year. Not that I've been such a pillar of support myself, she admitted, in an oblique acknowledgment of her abduction. But this has been like a...like a trip to the circus. This time her smile couldn't be stopped. Mulder dropped her off at her rented trailer and Scully packed quickly. She used the remaining time to make a few notes in her laptop. In her personal journal, she typed: Mulder's been in relaxed mood lately. Today, I could tell that he was frustrated about not resolving the murders here in Gibsonton but he was able to take it in stride. I am relieved. If I am honest, I have come to depend on him, on his resilience, on his strength. I know that someday I'm going to need it.... She paused, uncomfortable with even that much of her feelings in cold, hard letters on a computer screen. One of these days, I'm going to have to think about it, try and get it straight in my head..... "Didn't you hear me knock?" Mulder was standing in the door, startling her into hastily shutting the computer. He eyed her impassively. "Ready?" he asked. Scully nodded, feeling guilty and defensive. Once they were on the road, Mulder broke the silence. "Technically, I don't think we can call this an X-File, do you?" "No," she agreed. "it's a valid argument for the fact that, in truth, there are no X-Files at all." Mulder glanced at her briefly, before returning his attention to the road. "You have to admit," Scully continued, "that this case forces us to acknowledge that even the most outrageous events, the most implausible scenarios, all have a basis in pure scientific fact." "And the question is whether we know all the scientific facts yet?" Mulder said. "The X-Files are simply events for which we have no scientific explanation. Right?" Scully thought about it and decided it was safe to agree. "And now that you've seen the evidence of a Siamese twin that could detach himself, you'll be able to explain it scientifically." "With some research,,,study... right." "So once you see the evidence of alien abduction, you'll be able to explain that scientifically, as well." Scully's initial inclination was to steer away from the subject, as she had when he'd gently pursued the subject with her before, but now she could hear the smile in his voice. "If that's so, then this was an X-File, Mulder." "Okay, if you insist." She let her head fall back against the head rest. "I can't win with you, can I?" "So what were you putting in your computer back there?" He asked, just a hint of challenge in his tone. Taken by surprise, she realized he'd deliberately gotten her guard down. "Just my thoughts about this case..." "Something you didn't want me to see?" "Mulder, you can read my official report..." He shrugged. "You make others?" Scully felt herself bristle. She had just finished confessing her trust in and dependence on Mulder to her journal and now he was accusing her of betraying him. His guard was down, too, she realized. He didn't often let it slip that he still suspected her motives on some deeper level. "What are you saying?" He shrugged non-chalantly again. "Forget it." They rode on in a thick silence. Words perceived as unsaid were filling up the available space, displacing the air. Finally, Scully couldn't stand it. She felt like she'd just gotten him back and wasn't about to let something as trivial as words in a journal create a rift between them. "I keep a diary, Mulder," she said at last. "If you need to see what I wrote in it, I'll show you, but I'm going to warn you now that it was very personal, that your name was mentioned and that it might obligate you to me in some way that you might not be happy about." Mulder stared at her in slack-jawed wonder. "Watch the road!" Scully urged. She felt the car veer a bit as he turned his attention back to the road, obviously groping for words. "I would never have pried," he said, finally. "Scully, I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from." "S'okay. Just forget it." "Oh yeah, right," he replied sarcastically. Their eyes met quickly. "You said that you made a very personal entry about me in your journal, an entry, which, if I were to read it, would obligate me to you...Well, how am I supposed to forget that?" His irrepressible, irreverent humor surfaced. With a grin, he asked, "I mean, I'm utterly devoted to you now as it is. I didn't get you pregnant, did I?" Scully gave him a look of long suffering. "I've made a very big mistake, haven't I?" "I promise to stand by you." "Mulder, just how tough is your ego?" "Oh no, it's Frohike's? I'll kill him." Mulder was really enjoying this now. "A journal often consists of a person's observations concerning their friends and co-workers...observations which might not be well-taken even though they are born of the deepest affection...get my drift?" Scully asked pointedly. Unfazed, Mulder persisted. "Are you saying that I wouldn't be able to take criticism? What? It wasn't good for you? Then I was right...musta been Frohike then." "No," Scully countered, "but if I was to tell you what it was, you'd be obligated to return the favor...to expose your private thoughts about me to me." "Oooo, Scully, " he replied smoothly, "then you'd be obligated to me in ways you've never dreamed of." Suddenly the playfulness vanished and he changed the subject. For the rest of the drive, he acted just like the "old" Mulder. Almost pointedly so, Scully thought. xxx That evening, back in D.C., Mulder dialed the number that he'd memorized from his wiretap surveillance of Horny Harry. After punching in his credit card number, a woman came on the line. "I want Camille," he told her. Camille was busy, she told him. "I'll wait." He lay back on his couch and listened to the pre-recorded ads for all the different girls and scenarios he could choose from. He reached down and unbuttoned his Levis. He crooked his shoulder up to hold the phone to his ear while he used both hands to unzip them. He wished absently for a way to keep the phone in place while leaving both hands free. Ten minutes passed before that almost familiar voice came on the line. "Hi baby, this is Camille. What can I do for you?" The corner of Mulder's mouth twitched. "For tonight, Camille, you can let me call you--" May 1995 Little Rock, Arkansas Several weeks later, Dana Scully plopped down on the unfamiliar hotel bed and began to rub her damp hair with a towel. She eyed her laptop on the table by the window, but the hot shower had made her sleepy. After running a brush through her hair, she forced herself over to the table. She knew from experience that her notes now would be more accurate than if she waited until morning. Especially since she and Mulder would be checking out of the hotel early to catch a plane back to D.C. She decided to phone the desk and request a wake-up call. She picked up her phone, which was hanging from a control panel set into the wall. The panel also featured a clock radio. Instead of a dial tone, the line crackled with static. She tried to dial 0, and suddenly a voice was yammering in her ear, "...and tomorrow morning we'll be taking the 23rd caller to win season tickets to the Kansas City..." On a hunch, she reached over and turned the volume down on the radio and the voice diminished. Scully hung up and tried again. This time she dialed room service. Again a blast of static, through which she could hear the faint voice of the disc jockey. Suddenly a connection broke and she could hear someone ordering a pizza. "Hello?" she asked tentatively. "Do you hear that?" the pizza orderer asked. "No," the other party replied. "The phones here are all screwed up," Pizza Orderer said, and continued with his order. Another connection broke and Scully could barely hear a recording informing her that due to technical difficulties with the hotel's closed circuit communications network, the televisions, phones and radios would be temporarily out of service. She decided that she could try setting her watch alarm, but whether its tinny little beep would wake her was debatable. She wondered if Mulder had a travel alarm with him. Mulder, who didn't seem to need any sleep at all, was down in the hotel bar hitting on some woman. Scully had considered this in some depth during her shower. In fact, it had tugged at her consciousness with a great deal of persistence. She tried to chalk it up to the fact that, as well as she knew Mulder after working closely with him for a year, she still wasn't privy to the side of him that would pursue a personal relationship. Personal relationship, hell! He was panting like a dog in heat. Her own relationship with him started and ended with the X-Files. Oh, there was the occasional glimpse into his private life--after all, they were friends and how could you not get a feel for that side of someone after working so closely, so intensely with them--but glimpses is all they were, and all that professionalism would allow. Scully brought the computer to the bed and propped her back against the headboard. The headboard was securely attached to the wall that separated her room from Mulder's. From here, she thought as she opened the file for her report, I should be able to hear him come back. She began to type, pausing to think every few lines, or whenever she heard footsteps in the hall. A short time later, she studied the notes, scrolling through the text too quickly. They were sparse, sketchy. But they'll have to do for now, she thought. She clicked on another icon and her journal template appeared. She started typing. We had dinner in the hotel grill tonight. I hadn't eaten since dinner last night; I was starved. Ordered shrimp-no chicken!-It was better than the Mediterranean back home. I ate too much. Mulder had steak, rare. I don't know how he can stand it so undercooked, but then he was probably feeling a little carnivorous tonight. There was a woman alone at the bar. I think Mulder arranged it so that he could sit facing her. He kept looking over my shoulder and losing track of our conversation. I had a glass of wine with my dinner and I was getting sleepy. When I told Mulder I was going to call it a night, I could swear that he did a little tap dance under the table. I wonder if Mulder carries condoms. It was so odd to see him, well, see him on the prowl. I suppose that since he's so obsessed by, so serious about the X Files, I assumed that he'd be equally as serious about everything else--his sense of humor aside--and I never really imagined that he'd be the type to pick up a girl while he's on the road. I have condoms at home, but it never would have occurred to me to bring them along on one of these trips because I'd never even consider sex with someone I'd just met and I'd be even less inclined to play around with my partner looking over my shoulder. But I guess I'm assuming that he intends to have sex with her. Maybe he just wants some female companionship. Female companionship other than me, that is. Who am I kidding? Scully thought as she re-read the last paragraph. The only reason to seek female companionship other than me is because of the potential of having sex. I saw the look in his eyes. I've been the recipient of that carnal intent a couple of times myself, even if it wasn't Mulder's carnal intent. She continued typing: The woman was attractive. She had red hair and I'd guess she was about 30. But what's she really like? Is that Mulder's type? Are they going to have sex or not? And why am I suddenly so interested in Mulder's sex life? Surely I couldn't have deluded myself into thinking of him as celibate? He's a normal red-blooded male. Witness that lurid collection of videos and skin rags he keeps. If he brings her to his room, will I be able to hear them? Scully blinked. Did I really just type that? She moved her cursor over the last sentence, highlighting it. Her finger hovered over the space bar when her next thought slipped in: What would Mulder be like during sex? The door in Mulder's room clicked open and then shut. She quickly exited her program and shut her laptop. The clock radio showed it to be one a.m. He'd been down there for two hours! If she came back to his room after only two hours, she must be a real slut, Scully thought. She turned off the lights and climbed into the bed. She felt giddy as she tried to hear what was going on in the room next door. There was no sound for a few minutes, then she heard water running. After a few more minutes, the water stopped and silence fell. There were no voices. Mulder was alone. With the world settling back into its safe, familiar pattern, Scully relaxed. I shouldn't feel this relieved, she admitted, and resolved to analyze this episode later. She decided to try to set the clock radio's alarm. Scully switched it on and was rewarded with static, and then turned the dial to find a station with appropriate wake-up music. As she turned the dial, a quiet voice coalesced. This would be perfect, she thought. But the voice was Mulder's. "......Camille?" "Is that who you want tonight?" The woman's voice was relaxed, sultry. "Yes." "Then I'm your girl." "I don't want a girl, I want a whore," he instructed succinctly. Mulder! Scully felt her eyes bugging out. He's calling a hooker? This is too much, too personal! She reached out to turn the dial on the radio, but somehow ended up adjusting it for the best reception she could get. He must have dialed out on his room phone. "Mmmm, we're feeling nasty tonight?" "Call it nasty if you want. I'm just tired of all the games that go with trying to start a relationship. Have you ever wanted to hop into the sack and just fuck?" "Can't say that I have. You know us women, we like romance, and lots of foreplay. And you're usually so sensitive about that," she chided playfully. "Sorry. It's been so long, Camille, I'm as horny as hell. Make it good, okay? "For you, anything. I'm wearing a red leather skirt. It's very short. What kind of blouse should I have on?" "White, sheer...no bra" "Mm-hmm. You want to see my tits." Mulder sighed. "I want to be teased. I want the illusion of nudity beneath the filmy white fabric...and yes, I want to see your tits." "Okay. I have on a sheer, white blouse. I've left the top open. You're torn between watching my cleavage or trying to get a look at my nipples. I have white thigh-high stockings on. And those shoes you like..." "You remembered...." Scully forgot to breathe. She had to, eventually, but was staggered by the implications of the conversation. Phone sex...and Mulder is a regular customer. I shouldn't be surprised, but... "I'm standing on the corner--" "No. You're seated at a hotel bar. You're alone." "Where are you?" "I'm having dinner with my business partner." "Does he see me? Does he want me, too?" "My partner is a woman." "Oh, I see. Will we--?" "No." And there was the hint of that smile in Mulder's voice. "Not that I'm averse to discussing that scenario at a later date. I'm having dinner and I see you at the bar. I think that you're beautiful. I can see that you're waiting for someone...a trick, maybe. I want to go up to the bar and talk with you, but I can't because I'm with my partner and she's still eating. I catch your eye. There's something incredibly strong and palpable between us. Can you feel it?" "Yesss...." "I can't take my eyes off you. You can see that I want to be with you, but I can't leave my table...." "I'm turning around on my stool." "There's a light behind you. Your elbow is resting on the bar. I can see the outline of your breast..." "I want to keep you interested. You're much better looking than that john I'm expecting. I uncross my legs, they part just enough to let you know that I'm not wearing any panties, either." "You stole that from 'Basic Instinct.'" "So sue me. I know what you like." "Yes, you do." "What is your partner drinking?" "Wine." "I come to this bar all the time. I know all the waiters and the cooks. I bribe them to slip your partner a mickey--" Mulder choked on his laughter. "--that's funny?" she inquired, surprised, yet amused. "As a matter of fact, she claimed to be tired and she left." Mulder replied. "This really happened, didn't it?" "Well, almost." "What went wrong?" Mulder sighed. "After my partner left for her room, I sat down with this woman at the bar. We talked for a while. I felt I was starting to get somewhere and made some leading suggestions. She shut me down cold." "Oh?" "She'd seen my partner leave and thought that I was either married or that I was looking for some kind of kinky threeway." "Would that appeal to you?" Mulder paused. Scully felt a slight thrill at the implication that Mulder was at that very moment thinking about her in a sexual way. She slid a little closer to the radio. "At first I was pissed off and frustrated about the rejection, but the more I thought about it, the kinky aspect of it, the more I knew I needed to talk to you." "It turned you on then...I'd do kinky for you." "You're going to have to. I had a superb hard-on till we got off the subject." "Superb, eh? Well, put your thesaurus away. To show you how sorry I am that I turned you down, I bribed the desk clerk for your room number and I'm calling to apologize." "Why, that's very nice, but I'm still a little crushed by the incident..." "How can I make it up to you?" "When you get to my door, you take off your blouse." "But someone might see..." "That's part of the thrill, the risk of being caught." "All right. It's off." "What do I see? Describe your breasts to me." "They're not very large. You could cup them in your hand. That white blouse...the sheer fabric was rough and my nipples are sore. I'm rubbing them, caressing them..." "Go on..." Mulder's voice was getting rougher. "...I wish that you could be here. Your tongue would feel warm, your lips would be so gentle. If you were here, I'd wrap my arms around your neck and kiss the top of your head while you sucked my tits. I'd undress you slowly...you're not wearing a shirt now are you?" "No..." "Pants? Socks, shorts?" "Not a stitch." "Are you lying down?" "Yes..." Mulder's breath was coming in slight, audible gasps. "And are your hands free?" "No." "What are they doing?" "One's...one's holding the phone." "No tape?" "Not this time..." "I can see that in my mind, you're holding the phone to your ear with your left hand and stroking your cock with your right. Go slow and easy. I'd run my tongue over your lips and your neck. I'd kiss your nipples, pulling and teasing them with my teeth. Do you want me to play with them?" "Oh God, yes..." "What would you like now?" "I'd like to undress you, take off your shoes and then your stockings. I'd like to kiss your feet and ankles. I'd massage your calves and thighs. I'd slip my hands under your skirt, pull you down on the bed with me...I...I'd explore every inch of your ass." "I'm aching for you!" "I want you on top--straddling me--" "I'd lift up my skirt...you can see how slick I am, how wet from wanting you, how ready for you to fuck me..." "Touch yourself, Camille....please? Please, while I come?" Mulder pleaded hoarsely. "I'd slide down on your cock, taking every pulsing inch. I'd take your hand, and show you exactly where to touch me. I'm moving up and down, up and down...are you ready? We'll come together..." "Ahhh!" Mulder gasped, biting back on whatever he might've blurted to Camille in the midst of his orgasm. Scully felt her face burning; there was a telling wetness between her legs. She flopped back on the bed, her taut muscles going as lax as overcooked pasta. After a minute of silence, broken only by soft breathing on Scully's radio, Camille spoke: "It's always so good to hear from you, George." "You have to know that it's good for me, too, as evidenced by the mess I've just made of the sheets." Mulder told her wryly, though his voice sounded spent. He drew in a breath. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" "Yeah, I've been sublimating. How's the degree coming?" Scully looked back at the radio in disbelief. They're going to chat now? "So slowly. I've had to schedule afternoon classes only in order to work. Gotta pay the rent, you know." "It'll be worth the wait." He paused. "I know that these calls are for my benefit, Camille, but if I can ever repay the favor..." "Don't be silly; you pay the bill." "No, I mean for you personally. That's really arrogant of me, isn't it? It's probably like working in a candy store; I bet you're choking on chocolate by now." Camille laughed. "What could a phone sex operator possibly choke on? No, never mind, if I continue with that, your bill is going to double." "It'd be worth it. You're better than therapy." "We've been over it before...it's strictly against policy. This job pays pretty well and I don't want to lose it. But..." "But what?" Mulder asked eagerly. Scully felt a pang of sympathy at how lonely, how desperate that sounded. "I've got something for you." "You do?" "Got a pencil?" "Don't need one." "Okay. Camille at U Ohio dot Ed U" "You realize, don't you, that this is a step forward in this virtual relationship of ours?" Mulder asked, sounding bemused. "Yeah, I do." "And it's against policy?" "I didn't think that would bother you." "It doesn't." "Besides, it's just an e-mail address." "But...why?" "Sometimes when I, you know, I think about you..." "You do?" "Yeah...I guess it's your voice, the way you like to talk. Remember when you first called me?" "Are you saying I talk too much?" "Well, it was a little unusual for the caller to do all the talking!" She laughed again. "I replay that conversation in my head when my boyfriend and I are in bed together." That appeared to have been the wrong thing to say. Mulder let the silence stretch. "George?" "I know where you go to school now. I could find you, you know." "Well, you could try. Are you some kind of serial killer or something?" "I'm just a sex maniac, but you already know that..." "Does that mean your situation hasn't changed?" "It'll never change. It's...an impossible situation. Help me get over it, Camille." "I guess it couldn't hurt to try. Okay, I've got a pencil..." Scully listened as Mulder gave her his e-mail address. It felt awful to have listened to this. She guiltily moved the radio dial to a station with soft music. Sliding under the covers, she hugged herself and sadly pondered the kind of desperation that had Mulder seeking consolation and fulfillment over the phone with a total stranger. Worse, he was trying to establish some kind of real relationship with this faceless woman. It's going to be hard to look him in the eye tomorrow, she realized. Mulder had told Camille that he wouldn't mind discussing a menage-a-trois that included... ....me, Scully thought. She felt the swelling of her own desire and, reaching down to explore her own dampness, the lightest touch of her fingers sent her rocketing into an orgasm that she would have trouble forgetting. xxx Mulder tapped on Scully's door the following morning. There was no answer so he rapped a bit harder. "Scully? Hey, Scully?" The door opened to reveal his disheveled partner, still in her pajamas. With her eyes glued somewhere in the vicinity of his Adams apple, she mumbled, "Sorry, I musta forgot to set the alarm." "That's okay. We can still make it if you hurry." He couldn't help letting his gaze drop to her breasts swaying beneath the light cotton fabric of her pajama top. "Yeah, I'll be right down." She quickly shut the door on him. "See you in the lobby," he said to the closed door. As he turned to walk away, he realized that fantasizing about his partner was becoming a bad habit. If she had looked up and caught him staring, how could he have explained himself? He was going to have to confront himself on those feelings soon. Maybe he could get her image out of his mind if he could get a look at Camille. xxx Two weeks later, Dana Scully was letting herself into the basement office at 6 a.m. There was no light coming from under the door and she was relieved that she'd beaten her partner to work for a change. She hung her purse on a coat hook and strode over to Mulder's desk. Last night had capped it. As hard as it was not to let the Ramada Incident, as she'd come to think of it, occupy her every waking thought, she had woke from a particularly arousing dream in the late evening, a dream in which Mulder had called her on the phone and asked her to show him her tits. She had caressed her jutting nipples and fantasized about doing as he requested. Just the memory of it was burning her cheeks. He was her partner for God's sake! She turned his computer on and waited impatiently for it to boot up. Once it was running, she began to break into his e-mail. She knew him too well. After typing in, "Trustno1," she was rewarded with his in-box. She scanned it for Camille's address. Nothing. She switched to the out-box. Again, nothing. It wasn't there. She logged out and turned his computer off. To have any peace of mind, she was going to have to sneak into his PC at home. xxx Mulder arrived at 7 a.m. He was surprised to see her there already, but seemed pleased just the same. After getting some coffee, he collected various files dealing with unexplained power outages in Pennsylvania. He spread them on his cluttered desk and began to study them quietly. Scully was reading a missing person report. She paused to glance over at her partner, who quickly lowered his gaze to the papers on his desk. Scully wondered just what he was thinking when he was staring at her like that. Sometimes he was looking right through her and that meant he was heavily into a train of thought on some matter. But occasionally, like now, she'd know that he was actually watching her. Like I watch him? Scully mused. Hearing him masturbate over the phone that night was about the worst thing that could've happened to her concentration. Her image of him kept shifting. He was no longer just Mulder in a suit and tie, or Mulder in sweats and tennis shoes, or even Mulder in a slick red Speedo. He was Mulder, naked, on a hotel bed, head thrown back, eyes closed, thrusting into his fist-- "Scully!" Scully yanked herself out of the fantasy. "Huh?" She felt her face flaming. "Where were you?!" he teased. "Look I think we'll need to postpone that jaunt up to Pennsylvania..." "Uh, tomorrow?" "Right. I have to make a little trip to Ohio." "Oh?" "Can I get you to feed the fish?" Scully's initial impulse to ask what was in Ohio was waylaid by the opportunity being presented. "Of course. Will you be gone long?" 900 (2/2) by Tokyo Shapiro The next day was Friday. Mulder had left early in the morning so Scully spent the day typing and filing. She cleared away the files and paperwork that had been littering her desk and even made an attempt to straighten Mulder's desk, though it was actually a thinly veiled attempt to rummage through his drawers. After work, she drove straight to his apartment to feed his fish. That finished, she practically lunged at his computer. She entered into his e-mail program. She scanned the addresses in his in-box, recognizing some from work, many entries by his friends, the Lone Gunmen, and a few that she didn't know at all. But there was one that jumped out at her. Camille@uohio.edu. With a sudden sinking feeling, Scully realized that it was Camille who had whisked Mulder off to Ohio. She scrolled back to the entry, double-clicked on it and began to read. "Dear George, "I was never convinced that this was the right thing to do, but I sensed that you really needed to talk. I also had a strong feeling that you needed to deal with your "impossible situation" outside of the 900 line. But I think that you'll have to agree that this isn't helping. "It's obvious that you're not interested in exploring your obsession here. You won't tell me anything about yourself, your work or this Camille. Your persistence in meeting me indicates that you don't understand the extent of your problem or even how unhealthy it is. Having me pretend to be someone else on the phone at work, this Camille you are so hung up on, is probably an important, maybe even necessary, outlet for you. But I'm not her. I'm a real person with a life and a boyfriend about whom I am very serious. Therefore, there's no point in us ever meeting face to face. "Yes, I think that we connected in some shadowy kind of way. Your calls were always so different than the typical grunt and wheeze types. You have a very sensual and giving nature. I actually enjoyed them. There were times that they even turned me on and yes, I have thought about you, your voice, your fantasies, while I was making love. But you are also very intense and obsessive in a way that scares me. Why are you so determined to meet me, and yet so hesitant to straighten things out with Camille? "Because these kind of questions keep popping up and I don't have enough information to formulate any answers, I will not be returning any more mail. Frankly, George, your letters are beginning to frighten me. Please take my advice and talk to someone else about this. How about your business partner? From all indications, you are close and she could give you a female perspective. Because she must know you pretty well, her insight is bound to be more astute than mine. "I quit my job today. I just felt it was best.... "Good luck. "The Operator formerly known as Camille" Scully noted that there were no responses in the outbox from Mulder. A heavy sense of gloom settled about her. This wasn't at all like Mulder. Or was it? Who in the hell was this Camille that Mulder was obsessing over? Was if Phoebe? That would certainly explain how the situation would be impossible as far as Mulder was concerned. Could he possibly still be carrying a torch for her? That manipulative bitch? How could I be so...oblivious...to this kind of desperate emotion? With a start, Scully realized that she did want to know more about Mulder and the woman he might be obsessing over. And why doesn't Mulder confide in me? She found the directory for the e-mail and ran a recovery program. Several files came up. One, deleted the night before, was still viable. Scully opened it up. It was an e-mail to Camille. With a trembling finger, she pressed the 'enter' key. "Dear Camille, "I think you may be right. Night after night I lay awake, the tv on because I can't stand the silence. It's like a vacuum, dragging every lonely, self-pitying, useless thought from my mind. In the emptiness they expand and fill this void in my apartment, my life and my heart. When they're bloated and exaggerated like that, these angry phantoms push me into a corner. I feel trapped here, with only them for company. It's like living with mirrors all around me, each one reflecting and intensifying this need that is consuming me. "You're probably thinking that it's just sex, Camille, but it's not. I can masturbate to pictures in a magazine, to videos on tv, or to the fantasies I've manufactured, but with you on the phone, each time was different and we played the kind of games you play with a lover. There was always a chance to talk with you afterward, something I can't do when I'm alone, something I miss about not having a lover, something I wonder if I'll ever have again. I'm not really promiscuous. It suited me to hear your voice every time I called. I've grown very comfortable with you. "And that's why this can't stop yet. Yes, I have been obsessing and I still need to find a conclusion. You can't drop out of the picture and tell me it's over. Please give me just a little more time. I think that we can make this work. Don't be frightened, Camille. My intentions are not to hurt you. You'll go on with your life and, soon, I'll go on with mine. I have to say that I find very little pleasure in the prospect, though, of my life going on without our conversations. I will miss your voice. I will miss the way you talked to me, the intimate, sexy things that you said...if only you knew...if only Camille knew. "I tried to reach you at work...please call me...." And that was all he had written. The e-mail log reported that there had been an unsuccessful attempt to send the morning before but that the letter was unavailable now. Scully logged off of his computer and stood up. She hesitated and wondered exactly what to make of Camille's farewell, of Mulder's response, and most of all, of his sudden departure to Ohio. What should I do? She thought. It had never occurred to her that Mulder might be dangerously preoccupied with this woman and their phone-line relationship. If I were this Camille, Scully thought, I'd be worried after reading that letter. But it's Mulder! He's not dangerous, just...incredibly lonely. And Scully wondered again if she couldn't have helped him. There was knock at the door. Scully pulled herself from her reverie and went to open the door. There she greeted Frohike. "Agent Scully! I wasn't expecting to see you here, but it's always a pleasure," he said, stepping inside the apartment. "Where's Mulder?" "He's out of town," Scully replied. "I..." she gestured to the tank, "I'm here to feed the fish." She noticed he was carrying an envelope. "What is it you needed to see Mulder about?" Without hesitation, Frohike offered her the envelope. "I ran across a program designed by an absolute genius. I know that you guys want to break the firewall of some net site and this'll help if you find that you're dealing with any of the new encryption programs." "Oh." Scully decided to take a calculated risk and go fishing. "How much did Mulder tell you about what we're doing?" "Only that he needed Langley's help to break into a university computer system somewhere. Langley gave him a crash course. Kid's stuff, really." Frohike shrugged. "By now, we know better than to ask why or what for." "Well, what do you get out of it, then?" Scully remembered an incident from the previous year. "Besides my phone number?" "We know that Mulder's on the side of the righteous. That he's out there working on uncovering this massive conspiracy makes helping him its own reward." He looked at Scully sheepishly. "That and maybe the occasional loan from his video collection. Why?" "No reason, actually. I find your loyalty...your faith in Mulder very commendable." "It's no less than my loyalty to you," He professed in bug-eyed sincerity. Scully waved a hand toward the stack of videos by the tv, sighing, "You wanted to borrow a tape?" "Why, since you offered..." He sorted through the stack and picked out two tapes. He paused at the door, holding up the videos, "Would you care to...?" "No!" Scully stated firmly. "I'll be thinking of you..." "Please, Frohike, that's the last thing I needed to hear!" She quickly closed the door before he could say anything else. What is it with guys these days? Can't any of them get a date? Scully sorted through the items on Mulder's desk to see if there might not be an address book, or something with the name "Camille" on it. There was nothing. She wandered through his apartment, ending up in the bedroom. His mail to Camille still had her disturbed. She had never really given any thought to the fact that Mulder might be struggling with loneliness. He did date occasionally, she knew that. But now that she was thinking about it, she realized that neither she nor Mulder had seen anyone steadily in at least a year. After going over the items in plain sight, she sat down on his bed to look through his nightstand. He'd left his gun there. Suddenly Scully realized that this was probably a good thing. I should leave. I'll call him tonight...Scully had a sudden impulse. She laid back in his bed and imagined Mulder, here, naked....And I think he's obsessing? Still, she turned her head on the pillow and inhaled the aroma of Mulder. xxx Mulder sat in the study area of the campus library. He was browsing a behavioral magazine while his laptop computer scrolled through the current users of the university server. He'd programmed it to beep when Camille logged on, so he wasn't concerned about watching it. From his position in the room, he'd be able to see everyone who was using a computer in the library. And this is where Camille usually logged in, he'd discovered after using his credentials to tap into the university system. He felt strangely calm, even resigned. This was the last shot he would have and if it didn't work, he'd have to give up on ever being able to put anyone's but Scully's face on that voice he fantasized about. Xxx When Mulder arrived back at his apartment the following day, it was after midnight. The drive straight through had been long and cheerless. He was glad to be home. He dropped his bag on the floor by the door and headed straight for the bathroom. He sat on the edge of his bed and looked at a slip of paper. On it was a phone number. Should I? If I do she'll know that I hacked into the computer system... Mulder dropped the paper and picked up his phone. After dialling Camille's number, he waited until her answering machine picked up. He wanted to leave his phone number for her. The words would not come. Slowly, he replaced the handset. Her last e-mail to him had sounded wary, maybe even frightened. That hadn't been his intention. He'd typed a response that probably would have had her phoning the cops, but as a catharsis, it had served its purpose for Mulder. Then he hadn't sent it, merely deleted it. He hadn't been able to get a look at her, either. In his mind, she would always be the Dana Scully of his fantasies. So where's my closure going to come from? he thought. I guess it's going to come cold turkey. In a few minutes he was burrowing under the covers. On his desk, his answering machine blinked away unnoticed. Several hours later, the phone ringing dragged him out of a dark, warm, comfortable place. He reached for it blindly and pulled it beneath the blanket to his ear. "Mmmm?" An equally sleepy voice murmured, "Hi. Just checking up on you." "You called...." he smiled. He couldn't open his eyes. There was a slight pause. "It's so late, I hope you don't mind?" "Not at all. In fact, I like the sound of your voice when you're sleepy." Mulder sighed. "It makes you sound just like, well, it makes me want to call you Dana tonight." "That's always been all right with me." "'S so good to hear from you. Keep talking, okay?" "Are...are you all right?" Mulder felt some of his lassitude falling away. "If I'm honest, I'd have to tell you that I'm feeling a bit melancholy." "Oh? Why?" "Because you don't know what I do and I can't tell you. Because I'm a slave to my quest. And my goal, my purpose won't allow me the luxury of love or even the kind of relationship that would let me enjoy sex on a semi-regular basis. It's been that way for quite a while now, and there's no end in sight. I accepted this as the truth tonight, and I feel like a little bit of me died for the knowledge. So I really need you...can we do this? Talk every once in a while? I promise not to push." "Of course. I...want to be there for you..." "Mmmm. I wish you could be here with me now. Have I ever told you how much I'd like to bathe you? How I'd like to towel you dry and brush your hair? I'm laying here, in this bed, alone. I'm not even feeling particularly horny, but I'd still love to stand you in front of my bedroom window in the morning sunlight and watch as it illuminates every soft, sexy curve. I'd take you into my bed and hold you, feel your naked body next to mine. I'd slip my arms around you from behind. I'd take a breast in each hand and rub your nipples with my thumbs. I'd bite your shoulders gently and...wait...wait a second, I am too horny. I'd brush your hair aside and kiss the back of your neck, would you like that? And that's just for starters, then I'd--" xxx In her apartment, Scully's jaw dropped open and she stared at the phone which she had pulled away from her ear. xxx "--and once I've got you nice and wet I'd use my tongue to--" "Mulder!" Sleepiness had given way to arousal, which now crumbled before the bulldozer of cognizance. Mulder's eyes flew open. He sat bolt upright, his erection sagging. "Scully?!" He was greeted by absolute silence, a silence that stretched on and on, an endless concrete wall. Mulder's mouth worked frantically, grasping for words. "Oh Jesus Christ, I--I'm so sorry....Scully? Are you there? Talk to me, Scully?" "Quite frankly, Mulder, I don't know what to say..." she, too, groped for words. "Mulder, I think we need to talk about this--but not now...tomorrow," she sounded as if she were strangling, "--I--I've got to go...bye." The connection broke. Mulder winced, dropped the phone and smacked the heel of his hand against his head. He repeated the smack several times. He groaned. "You schmuck! You dumb fucking schmuck!" Then he got out of bed and began to dress. xxx In her own bed, Scully covered her face with her hands, trying to muffle the explosion she couldn't restrain. Her hands pressed hard against her mouth and still a resounding raspberry escaped, followed by a squeal which rang in her darkened bedroom. She bit her lip and rolled over, burying her face in her pillow, but the laughter wouldn't stop. "Oh my God!" she gasped. "Oh my God!" Then coherence rushed in and the thoughts came a mile a minute. The conversation replayed in her mind. She had obviously woke him from a sound sleep and he'd thought she was Camille. But he asked if he could call me Dana, she remembered, and then his words came back as clear as crystal. "It makes me want to call you Dana..." He still thought I was Camille! He was fantasizing about me and talking to Camille ! Are we going to be able to live with this? Scully wondered, as the seriousness of the situation hit home. She wiped at the uncontrollable tears that ran down her cheeks. Are we going to be able to laugh and put it behind us? She expelled her breath in a gust. Well, I can't forget it! If it wasn't bad enough to have random images of Mulder pumping away interfering with my concentration and my work, now I'll have the image of him pumping away to fantasies of me! She looked at the phone. What was he thinking now? What would he be doing? I can't believe that he's not trying to call me back and apologize... She felt a shock. He's going to come over and do it! Scully grabbed her phone and hit the redial. After three rings she heard the answering machine pick up. After the beep, she blurted, "Mulder? Pick up the phone! Mulder?" She hung up and winced. She smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. She groaned and started to dress knowing that no matter how many layers she put on, she was going to feel quite naked. xxx Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Scully took a deep breath and opened it. Mulder stood on the threshold, disheveled, his hands thrust hard into the pockets of his jacket. The sweatshirt he wore beneath it was inside out. Tentatively, he blinked and said, "Hi. I'm back from my trip to Ohio." Scully stood there, not knowing what to say to that. Mulder continued, "I thought it would be a good idea to stop and let you know before I got home, just in case you've tried to call me, so you'd know that if somebody picked up the phone at my place, well, that it probably wasn't me." Scully felt her eyebrows creeping up her forehead. The hilarity that bubbled beneath her calm exterior threatened to burst forth again. She clenched her jaw. Mulder shrugged. "Well, that's all. Guess I better go. I'm beat." He made no move to leave, however, standing outside the door like a penitent schoolboy, ready to accept castigation if she deemed it necessary. She couldn't laugh at him. She couldn't hate him. What was she to do with him? "Mulder, get in here." Once she had shut the door behind him, Mulder turned around to face her, suddenly serious now that he knew she wasn't going to brush the incident aside and forget it. It was obvious that he was in agony. She wondered how she looked to him. "Do you want a drink?" she asked lamely. "No, an alcohol-induced haze, welcome as it would be, might take away some of the sting and.I deserve to feel every bit of this." "Mulder, I'm not going to hurt you. Sit down, okay?" He backed up and sat down. "You should hurt me, Scully. It was unforgivable, what I said, what I did. What it implied, for Christ's sake...I've never felt at such a loss for words in my life, so the kindest thing you could do right now is take out your gun and shoot me where I sit." She sat down next to him, curling one leg beneath her, trying to ignore the way he stiffened at her proximity. "And what should I shoot you for? Having a healthy libido? I should actually be flattered. It's obvious that I called when you were half asleep, you didn't even know it was me...." "Oh, it's okay then. The earth shouldn't open up and swallow me whole." Mulder frowned. "What makes you think I didn't know it was you?" Dana paused, confused. "Because you called me Camille." "No, I didn't." "And you were honestly surprised when I..." Her cheeks were flaming, there was nothing she could do about it. "...what do you mean, 'you didn't.'" He shifted slightly, looked at her sharply from the corner of his eye. "How on earth would you know about Camille?" Dana's mind raced over the telephone conversation. Had he called her 'Camille?' No, he hadn't! How would I know...? Her face grew even hotter. Oh shit! "Scully...?" Mulder prompted with a new edge to his voice. The uneasiness on his face was no longer just embarrassment. Scully could see that he was mentally ticking off the possibilities and the idea that she was spying on him was rising to the top of the list. "Mulder, I....do you remember our trip to Maryland? The Ramada Inn?" She dropped her gaze to his Adams apple again, and she knew there was no way she was going to be able to look him in the eye for this little confession. He remained stonily silent, giving her no choice but to finish on her own. "My clock radio was picking up your phone..." She paused. With no sound from Mulder, Dana couldn't help herself. Like a lemming, she headed for the cliff. Her gaze went to Mulder's face. "The hotel's closed-circuit network was malfunctioning. It was an accident." The blood had drained completely from his face. She could tell that he was recalling the exact content of that phone call. Lord knew, she could probably recite it word for word. Either that or he wasn't convinced that it was an accident. "How much of that did you hear?" She flinched. He winced. "You should've told me, Scully," he remarked in an oddly quiet, controlled sort of way. Scully knew instantly that the conversation had suddenly taken a hard left turn. The underlying embarrassment and hilarity vanished. A cold foreboding crept up her spine. "I'm not sure what you would've expected me to say. And I have wanted to--to talk with you about....things. Maybe now?" "Well, if you know who Camille is, what did you make of my little speech tonight?" How cold he sounds! And why not? I've intruded on something that should've remained, could've remained very private. But I have to reach him, help him... Dana felt his silent prompt to draw the conclusions he would expect her to and speak them aloud. "It indicates that you've used my...uh...name...in conversations with Camille?" "Proceed with your post-mortem, doctor..." Hit me harder, his resigned expression stated clearly. "Look, Mulder, " she sighed. "I think that we can just put this into perspective and move on. We work well together and I hope that won't change. Can we just--? "Put it into perspective? Scully, are you kidding?" Mulder's sheepishness vanished completely, changing to irritated concern. He lunged from his seat. "It doesn't bother you? It doesn't raise your feminist hackles that I--that I think--thought--about you in carnal terms? That I fantasized about it with a...a...a phone sex operator, for God's sake!? That I might continue to do so?" "Oh c'mon!" she interjected. "It's just fantasy and fantasy by its very nature is seldom politically correct. Besides, I can't believe that you're not going to remember this conversation quite clearly the next time and it ought to have all the effect of a cold shower and then some." "Don't be so sure, humiliation might be a turn on for me!" Mulder's voice was wry. "After all, here I am!" He strode to the far corner of the room. Dana frowned. "Your fantasies sounded very normal to me..." "How can you do that?" he gaped, swinging about to face her again. "How can you just sit there and dissect my sexual fantasies? I'm not jerking off to anonymous girls in some skin rag. I'm jerking off to you--my partner! I can hardly expect you to be impartial about it. I feel like I've totally crossed the line with you. I might as well have thrown you over your desk and had my way with you. There is no way in hell our professional relationship is going to come out of this alive and--" he stopped suddenly, swallowed and turned away, "--and I'll never forgive myself for blowing that." "What are you saying?" Scully rose to cross the room. Her heart was jumping into her throat. She had known it wouldn't be easy to continue working together, but she had assumed that they would. And to hear that naked emotion in Mulder's voice made her feel responsible. "We are two adults here, Mulder! You're not the only person involved." "My point exactly." She placed a hand on his arm to turn him around. He tensed and refused to cooperate. Scully felt a desperation rising. She was beginning to recognize just how heavily she was invested in this relationship. She didn't want to lose it...the professional or the personal...or the potential. She spoke to his back. "Well, as long as we're coming clean here, I might as well finish the job." She took a deep breath and steeled herself. "After the Ramada Inn, I was worried about you. I checked your e-mail at work...and at home." Mulder's head drooped, his forehead resting against the wall. "Jesus fucking Christ," he whispered. "I know why you went to Ohio. I was calling you tonight to...I don't know...try to get you to open up to me." Mulder's shoulders shook. Alarmed, Scully thought he was crying and placed her hands on his back comfortingly. Then she heard him snort and the laughter that escaped him. "Mission accomplished!" Still, he wouldn't turn to face her. He didn't shrug them off, so Scully let her hands rest there. "What you said on the phone tonight really moved me. I never would have guessed how lonely you were, how hard it would be for you to find someone to confide in....I guess I was wishing you would confide in me. After all, I'm with you every day. I know how devoted you are to the X-Files and to finding Samantha. I want to help." She moved her hands in small, reassuring circles, just below his shoulders. "Why won't you let me be there for you?" Then he turned around. He grabbed her hands before she could pull them back. When her surprised eyes met his, she noticed the glint of tears. The corners of his mouth twitched. He squeezed her hands hard. "Do you, Scully? Do you really want to be the one I confide in?" "Y-yes." She met his gaze steadily. "I want to be the one." He smiled a little, tentatively. "Are you saying that if I unburden myself to you, take you out, buy you a drink and pour out my heart and soul to you, that I'll no longer need Camille?" "Yes, I really believe that. I think that you've been able to talk to her because she's not involved and that makes her safe. But you're trying to drag her in, Mulder. I'm already involved. I think that makes me better qualified to help. I also know about Phoebe, and how she might not have given you a chance to end it in a way that...that satisfies you, and perhaps Camille has filled that need for you. That's what I'm saying." Mulder smiled a little more, nodding. "You know, Scully, you're probably right about that. But when we're sitting there, over drinks, and I tell you that I get a raging hard-on each time my partner bends over to get a folder from the bottom drawer of the file cabinets, what great advice are you going to give me then?" Scully felt her mouth open, but no sound issued forth. He must have felt her reticence, because Mulder dropped her hands. "Camille was pretty good at telling me what to do about that. And I was only going to Ohio because I needed to be able to giver her voice a face. A face besides yours, that is. See? Camille is a substitute for you, Scully, not Phoebe." He smiled sadly at her. "Now you know why this isn't going to work." He started to sidestep around her. Impulsively, Scully reached out and grabbed her partner by the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers slipped under the denim and her thumb hooked under the button. The soft skin of his belly felt warm under her knuckles. Mulder looked down at her grip and then back up to her face uncertainly. His eyebrow twitched expectantly. "Give me a moment to think about it?" She asked. She felt a thrill course through her body and settle expectantly in her groin. "You see, I'm not going to dispense any advice until I get a promise from you that the relationship will be completely reciprocal..." "Reciprocal?" "Yes, you see, " she slid her other hand under his waistband. "I might need advice from you on these images that have been plaguing me for a while now." "Images?" "Uh huh. Ever since a certain trip to Maryland, and usually just after I go to bed, I get this mental image of my partner. He's lying naked on a hotel bed and abusing himself quite vigorously." "Oh Jesus, Scully..." Mulder watched helpless as she undid the button on his jeans. "Sometimes, the images are different. Sometimes he's lying on my bed. Sometimes...it's not his right hand, but my hand doing all the work." She bit her lip and plunged. "Sometimes, I'm all alone in my bed and it's still my hand doing all the work. And you know what?" Mulder swallowed hard. "What?" "My hand's getting a little tired." "Mine, too!" Mulder grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close, his mouth finding and covering hers. Scully let her lips part and his tongue pushed into her mouth. His arms tightened around her, pinning her hands between them. She pushed them further into his jeans, sliding along his throbbing erection. He groaned into her mouth. He pulled back, "Touch me again and I'm going to explode." Scully smiled, teasing, and pushed him back against the wall. "Make it the first of many and you've got a deal." She slid his zipper down. He closed his eyes and threw his head back. She hooked her thumbs in his beltloops and pulled his jeans down over his hips. His shorts followed. She was suddenly dizzy with the thought that she had Mulder, her partner, pinned against the wall, his pants around his knees and they were separated only by his impressive, fully erect member. She knelt before him and closed her mouth over the head of his penis, circling it with her tongue. She slid her lips further down the shaft and felt him grow even harder. Above her, Mulder groaned her name and his hands curled tightly in her hair. He spasmed and her mouth filled with his emission. xxx He let go of her hair and pulled her up. He kissed her thoroughly, tasting himself , warm, salty and metallic in the depths of her mouth. Afterward, he held her close, a savage, burning emotion within his breast. "I feel like such an incredible bastard," he whispered into her ear. "You deserve hours of foreplay...." "That's right," she whispered back. "And I plan on getting just that. I seem to recall something about giving me a bath?" Mulder felt his tumescent penis move in anticipation. She stepped away from him, eyeing the exposed parts of his body appreciatively. She smiled at him, turned and beckoned him toward the bathroom. He drew his pants up, leaving them undone, and followed, feeling drained of any will of his own. He was greeted by the sight of her bending over the tub to run the water. "Mulder?" she prompted, looking over her shoulder. "Just a second," he said, admiring her from behind, "it's that damn view from my desk again, the one that keeps me from getting any work done." Scully was blushing again. It occurred to Mulder then that she was feeling quite a bit more self-conscious than she was acting. Mulder knew that she wasn't dating, either, and wondered if it was possible that she was just as desperate for his touch as he was for hers. She had to be, after all, she'd just given him head in the living room! She stood up and faced him. Crossing her arms in front of her and grabbing the hem of her sweater, she began to lift it over her head. Mulder stepped up to her quickly and slid the sweater up off of her arms. Then, holding her shoulders, he guided her to the mirror. He stood behind her and they looked at each other's reflection. Scully still wore a crew neck jersey that was tucked into her jeans. Mulder slid his arms around her, closing about her ribs. He lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing the soft skin. One hand came up to cup her breast, the other tugged the shirt from her waistband. She lifted her arms to accommodate him. He pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside. He was greeted by another top, a camisole type. "I was feeling a little shy," she laughed at his expression. "It's just like Christmas," he answered, his eyes alight. He didn't remove it right away. Instead, he placed his left hand flat on Scully's stomach, pulling her back against him, his growing erection pinned snugly between them. His right hand slid up to knead and explore first one breast, then the other. He rolled her nipples gently between his thumb and forefinger. He watched her face in the mirror. She rested her head back against his chest and closed her eyes. Mulder stopped stimulating her and slid his hands under each breast, supporting them and admiring the way her nipples poked through the thin camisole. He hooked a finger under both the strap of her camisole and her bra. He slid them off her shoulder. Again, he encircled her with his arms and pulled her tightly to him while nuzzling her newly exposed skin. She murmured her pleasure. Mulder felt his pulse quicken. She was so relaxed, so languid. His initiative returned in a rush and he looked forward to exploring every fantasy with her. It seemed so natural, after all his practice with Camille. He let go and turned to the tub. The water was very warm. He shut off the faucets. Mulder turned around to find Scully facing him, leaning back against the vanity. She held a bottle of peach colored bath crystals. He took them from her and dumped a liberal amount into the tub. She was laughing quietly about it. He didn't know why, didn't care either. He capped the bottle and twisted his between his hands. Their eyes met. "Turn around," he instructed. She wasn't laughing now. Her eyes grew smoky and she once again faced the mirror. When she met his reflected gaze, he said, "Take off your shirt." She did as he requested, without any hesitation that he could discern. "Now your bra..." Mulder's mind snapped a photo of his beautiful, cool, seductive partner, standing in confident, bare-breasted splendor underneath the harsh florescent lights. He marveled at the sight. He felt a rush of appreciation, of lust. He suddenly felt like his whole life was turning on its axis. "Scully, you--" "Dana." "Dana. You have absolutely no idea of how much this means to me. I'd like you to turn around and undo your pants." With her eyes never leaving his, Scully unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, then turned to face him. His gazed at her then, taking in the flushed, vulnerable expression on her face and realizing that she was placing herself completely in his care. This wasn't like the faith they kept at work, one partner watching the back of the other; this was fiercely independent Dana Scully offering up her heart and soul and body, even her career. The trust she was exhibiting staggered him. Mulder pulled her to him and kissed her. "I have loved you for so long now, that it's impossible to determine just when I started wanting you." He caressed her naked back, and inhaled the subtle fragrance of her hair. "It's so easy to say that to you now, you know, when it feels like my dick is doing all my thinking and talking for me, but I'm also going to tell you that tomorrow and the day after that. I'm going to tell you a year from now and ten years from now." He pulled back to look down at her, into her smoky eyes. "I will love you forever." "Show me," she whispered. He bent to kiss her, softly pressing his lips to hers, feeling her yield. The kiss deepened, and his tongue met hers. Her hands came up and slid his jacket off. It dropped to the floor and they parted while he pulled off his sweatshirt, which ended up right side out on the floor by his jacket. These were soon joined by his shoes and her jeans. She leaned back against the vanity while he kissed her breasts, taking each nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. Dana's hands roamed over every part of him that she could reach, little hums and sighs telling him when he was doing something right. His kisses landed softly on her stomach as he dropped to his knees. He was transported back to his first fantasy of Dana as he knelt before her and slid her panties off. As in his fantasy, he looked up to her. "Yes," she breathed. Fox Mulder buried his mouth in her crotch, licking and sucking. With one arm encircling her hips, he used his other elbow to urge her thighs further apart. He slid one and then two fingers into her vagina. She began to rock her hips and her natural lubrication coated his hand. He was as considerate as possible, bringing every bit of his expertise to bear. As her grinding became more rhythmic and demanding, his tongue teased her clit one last time before he pulled away. "Mulder," she gasped, "Mulder..." He stood up and removed his jeans. His cock was jutting up between them again and he pulled her toward the tub. Lowering himself into the water, he sat, using his hands on her hips to position her over his swarthy, straining erection. She lowered herself onto his lap, and he exhilarated in the feel of her tight, vaginal muscles enclosing him. Dana slid her fingers into his hair, caressing and pulling his lips to hers. They locked in a passionate kiss. Mulder slipped his hand between them to find her most sensitive spot, slowly, gently. Her mouth left his with a sudden gasp and he felt her muscles contract around him. He watched intently as her eyelids fluttered, and a slight, breathy moan escaped her lips. "Yes, Dana, yes!" He urged. "I've waited so long for this--" And the rest of his statement was choked off as he felt his control vanish, and he bucked beneath her and an orgasmic shudder ran through his body. They embraced, sweat now slick between them, and whispered their intimate declarations. The word, love, which Mulder hadn't been able to use with Camille, was punctuating every sentence. He felt his heart swell with it and with the satisfaction that had eluded him after every phone call. At that moment, it wouldn't have mattered if Scully didn't feel the same way. It was good to have given a name to the persistent longing he felt, the way she could arouse him with a mere glance in his direction. But she took his face between her two hands and, with a smile that he knew would be his and his alone, she said, "Fox Mulder, I love you, and in ten years, I'll be waiting to tell you again." At that moment, Mulder felt poised upon a precipice, knowing that they were about to embark upon a journey. They were going to wash, to talk and to make love again. xxx The early morning hours found them in Dana Scully's bed, warm and naked, wrapped in a down comforter. With his lover nestled between his legs, facing the window that was lightening with the dawn, Mulder brushed her hair. He enjoyed the peace it brought to them both, and the intimacy it represented. Just 24 hours ago, he realized, he had felt like his quest was a yoke, and yet now, now with Dana's warm, supple body next to his, he anticipated the challenges it offered. There was hope. She had given him hope. In the distance, he heard the roll of thunder. Rain started to splatter against the window. Fin, mais peut-etre non!