From: Dani Lane 
Date: Sun, 28 Nov 1999 18:08:29 GMT
Subject: 900 (1/2)(NC-17)

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!

    Source: geocities.com/solofbi