From: AgentXDoll 
Date: 12 Jul 1998 21:54:23 GMT
Subject: Cinnamon Calling II:  "Mandrake's Message" by Bidie McCucholl (NC-17) 
1/3

Title: Mandrake's Message
Author:  Bidie McCucholl
Category: VR
Rating: NC17 for language and strong sexual situations
Spoilers: None
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance.  Erotica.
Summary: Dana Scully gets an unexpected phone call from a man
named Mandrake, in response to a deceptive phone call made by
Scully several days before.  When Scully finally identifies the
caller, she is plunged headfirst into an erotic conversation about
her fantasies, her desires, including her most secret wishes about 
her very sexy FBI partner.  Sequel to "Cinnamon Calling".
==================================================================
Disclaimer:  I'll say it one more time---the characters of Fox
Mulder and Dana Scully do not belong to me.  They belong to FOX,
Chris Carter, and Ten Thirteen Productions.  I am in no way making
money off this little endeavor.  The only reward I ask is that my
fellow Philes please supply me with feedback regarding this story
and any of my other stories at AgentXDoll@aol.com.  Thanks a lot
and enjoy the story!
==================================================================
     The phone was ringing.  And ringing.
     And at the most inopportune time of her life.
     Dana Scully shivered as she stepped out of the steaming,
bubble-filled bathtub which had so warmly welcomed her only
minutes before.  She had been determined to enjoy this rare
ritual, considering her caseload had been particularly light
during the week.  For several days, Dana had returned to the
sanctity of her humble dwelling without falling into her bed with
exhaustion, and she had madee plans tonight to enjoy a relaxing
bubble bath with no outside distractions.
     That is, until now.
     "Dammit, I'm coming," she yelled absently to the phone,
forgetting that the phone was an inanimate object, incapable of
expression, comprehension, or response.  Wrapping an oversized
terrycloth towel around her torso, she cursed whoever was giving
her the honor of a call at such a late hour.
     Normally Dana would welcome a call---from her mother, her
family, from anybody.  It wasn't as if her phone needed the rest.
In fact, Dana was convinced that her phone received too much rest.
She was also convinced that she needed to put it to good use.  She
needed a social life.  Some kind of life, outside the Bureau.
     Why hadn't she placed the phone in the bathroom before her
bath, like a responsible, well-prepared woman?  Because Dana 
Scully was far from responsible and well-prepared this evening.  
      Dana seethed as she stomped
into the living room, 
     She picked up the phone, taking a deep breath.  "Hello," she
growled into the receiver, sounding none too happy.
     There was no response.  "Hello," Dana repeated, this time
more forcefully, as if a threat.  
     Again, no response.
     "Look," Dana yelled into the phone, "I don't know who the
hell you are or what the hell you're doing calling me so late, but
you'd better have a damn good reason for calling, or else I'll
have the police on your ass in two seconds, you hear me?"
     She could hear a slight breathing sound on the other end of
the phone.  A slow inhale, then an exhale.  Inhale, exhale.
     Dammit, another prank caller.  And *this* is what dragged her
out of the warmth of her claw-foot bathtub?  Somebody was going to
pay for this.  She'd make sure somebody's ass was behind bars
tonight for interrupting her bath, not to mention the exquisitely 
erotic fantasy she'd been having.
     She shivered again, more from the thought of the fantasy than
from the chill of the late evening.  Thoughts she shouldn't be
having.  Thoughts she'd conditioned herself not to think about
during work, during leisure, during rest.  Only in dreams did they
attempt to reassert themselves in the most temptingly erotic ways.
     No.  She was not going to think about it.  About any of it.
It was dangerous, forbidden territory, and conscious fantasy could
only harm, not help, the situation.
     The caller remained silent, the only sound ragged breathing.
     "Who are you?" she yelled.  "Answer me, or you'll only make
it worse on yourself!"
     She heard a whispered voice say, "Sorry, wrong number," and
then a click, followed by a dial tone.  What....?
     A guttural sound escaped from Dana's mouth as she pounded her
fists on the couch.  Damn prank callers.  Probably some oversexed,
prepubescent boy who had nothing better to do on a Friday night
than to get off on calling single women in the area.
     Well, he won't get away with this, she thought to herself
determinedly.  She'd make sure that his parents, his
neighbors...damn, the whole block would find out when the blue
lights of the police would flash in his driveway.  One less caller
to disturb her peace and quiet.
     But she wouldn't have minded if the caller had been someone
else.  More particularly, a certain someone else.  A certain
someone else she had worked with for five years.  Someone whose
simple greeting of "it's me" could wreak such emotional turmoil
within her icy, reserved exterior.  A voice which never failed to
cause her heart to stop, to skip a beat, to jump, to race in
expectation, anticipation, hope.  Hope that maybe, this time, he
wasn't calling her to discuss the latest findings on a case, to
get him out of his usual bind, or to be his scientific gofer.
     Every time, a disappointment.
     Then again, what could one expect from someone such as 
Fox Mulder?
     Dana sighed and sat on the couch, her eyes growing misty from
her unfulfilled wishes of having anything more with Mulder.  Most
likely the man would never consider having anything to do with
someone the likes of her.  He probably thought of her as a
scientist, devoid of feeling, of emotion, of passion.  Worse yet,
he probably considered her emotional detachment downright prudish
and puritanical, the kiss of death for any woman needing the
attentions of a particular man of their choosing.
     The truth was, she was far from prudish or puritanical.  She
was far from reserved or emotionless.  There was depth to Dana
that many would never have the privilege of seeing, only because
she had never deemed them worthy to witness the vulnerability and
sensitivity of her soul.  Mulder had, on occasion, been able to
penetrate the surface of her soul, and she, in her weakness, had
gladly welcomed him inside.  But then some freakish event or
unusual happening would tear him away from her, leaving her heart
open, exposed, vulnerable to hurt, to rejection, to abandonment.
     So she would build the wall again, this time with more
attention to the cracks in the fa‡ade of her surname.  She would
vow, each and every time, never to allow Fox Mulder to gain access
to her heart, yet time and time again, she would allow Fox Mulder
to do just that.
     Finally, in a moment of desperation, Dana had gone shopping,
to buy a suit that was nothing of Scully, and everything of Dana.
Dana the passionate.  Dana the tempestuous.  Dana the temptress,
the seductress.  Everything that was in direct defiance of Scully,
of the Scully that the Bureau knew, the Scully that her partner
knew.  She had worn it to work on Monday as an experiment, to
witness the reactions of those around her.  She'd received several
appreciative glances from fellow colleagues, and an amusing look
from Skinner, but no reaction from Mulder.  She'd even changed her
walk, her talk, her gestures, all in an elaborate show for Mulder,
just to see if he would react with some form of lustful intent.
Nothing.
     In fact, if anything, he was less attentive to her, burying
his head in countless documents and photos for the remainder of
the day.  He'd barely even noticed her.  When she'd suggested
lunch, he'd declined her offer.  She'd suggested an early dinner,
and he'd declined that offer as well.  She'd even offered to pay,
and it wasn't like Mulder at all to turn down a free meal.  Yet
he'd refused.
     And Dana, feeling rejected and vulnerable, had left
Headquarters that evening alone, with even more questions and no
more answers than when she'd begun.
     And so she'd concocted another brilliant plan, a plan to gain
some insight into the mind of Mulder.  A plan to prey on his most
licentious of weaknesses and find the answers to the questions
she'd been seeking.  It would be her revenge for the hurt he'd
caused her by ignoring her obvious change in appearance.
     And she had succeeded, not as Scully, not as Dana, but as a
sultry phone-sex impersonator named Cinnamon, the name a college
boyfriend had affectionately given her.  And Mulder had taken the bait.
     It had almost been too easy, procuring the information from
him.  He had told her everything she'd ever wanted to know about
his desire for her, his longing for her, his admiration and
appreciation of her beauty, all with her assumed name and a very
sensual bedroom voice.  As Mulder confessed his desires to
'Cinnamon', it had become increasingly more difficult for Dana to
continue the ruse, particularly when he'd said he loved her.
Especially when he had lost control and groaned her name
into the phone in the heat of a passionate release from his
physical frustrations.
     She had been sitting in this exact same spot, only four days
ago, when their heated words of passion and desire had inflamed
her to no end of sexual promise, and ever since, she had begun to
allow herself the luxury of indulging in erotic fantasies with
Mulder.  She could not hide it any longer.  She was sure he had
seen the heated looks she'd directed his way in the basement
office they'd shared, the day after the passionate conversation.
     The most difficult part had been the day after.  Although
Dana had been in prime position to approach Mulder with motives of 
a more sexual nature, she'd hesitated to take the final step that
would propel her into the arms of the only man she'd ever loved.
And although Mulder had expressed words of love and desire to her
the night before, suddenly he was again the distant and self-
absorbed FBI partner the next morning.  Nothing had changed to
indicate that he would become the initiator in this age-old
courtship, even though her last words to him as 'Cinnamon' had
been to tell Dana of his feelings.
     The coward.
     Resentment had begun to build within her, hardening her heart
once again in defense of Mulder's indirect rejection of all she
had to offer.  She had become Scully again, to her dismay, and had
come home the last three nights with tears in her eyes and a vain 
hope...more hope than ever that the next call she received would
be a confession of love from Mulder.
     Yet that call had never come.
     Sighing, she rose from the couch and began to make her way 
into the bathroom to finish what was left of her hot bubble bath.
Perhaps that would help to take her mind off the events of the
past week.
      Dana thought with dismay, 
     She had just descended into the water when the phone rang
again.  Goddammit, not again.
     "I'm not answering this time," she yelled to the phone as she
immersed her auburn locks into the warmth of the water.  As if the
phone could hear her.  "You can call some other lonely female.
I'm enjoying my bath, you hear me?"
     She caught herself and stopped speaking.   Oh yes, that was
it.  It was definite.  She was certifiably crazy.  Anyone who
would talk to their own phone had to be suffering from some sort
of psychosis.  Anyone who'd fallen in love with Fox Mulder was 
definitely suffering from a multitude of psychoses.
     Grasping a handful of bubbles, she decided to let the
answering machine take the call.  No one of decent repute would be
calling her at this hour anyway.
     The sound of her pre-recorded greeting welcomed her ears as
she raised her head to hear whatever response would be given by
the caller.  A foreign voice resounded over the speaker of the 
machine, a low, husky baritone timbre that traveled from the 
machine straight to Dana's erogenous zones.
     "Hey, Dana.  Just wanted to call and say hello," the voice
slurred softly.  "I was hoping you'd be in so we could---talk---
for a while."  He chuckled.  "A good friend of mine said you might
need a little---company tonight and gave me your number.  I hope
you don't mind; from what I've heard, I think you're an incredibly
sexy woman."
     Suddenly Dana found herself sitting upright in the tub, her
senses reeling.  Who was this man, anyway?  Who had given him her
number?  And who exactly was this good friend he'd mentioned?
     She yelled to the phone again.  "Mom, if this is another one
of your matchmaking schemes, you can forget about dinner tomorrow
night!  I'm not a charity case!"  She left the comfort of the bathtub 
and wrapped the now-damp towel around her once more to go
to the phone.
     The man was still talking.  "Dana, if you're there, please
pick up.  You won't regret it.  I promise."  His voice lowered to
a deep bass with the last two words, sending tingles down Dana's
body into the soft bud of her arousal.
     Her breath stopped.  Should she take the call?  No.  What if
he was some sick, twisted sex offender who harassed women for
kicks?  What if he was stalking her?  What if...?
     Oh, hell, why not?  It wasn't as if she was going to have any
excitement tonight, or any night in the near future.  If he tried
anything funny, she could always trace the call or pull a few
Bureau tricks on him. 
     Slowly she picked up the phone and spoke into the receiver.  
"Hello," she said.  "I'm sorry I couldn't get to the phone sooner;
I was taking a bath."
     "A bath?" the man said.  "Really?  Was it a good one?  With
hot water and bubbles?"
     Dana frowned quizzically.  "Why, yes it was," she replied.
"How did you know?"
     "My friend said that you loved to soak in a hot bath with
bubbles."  The man's voice was excitingly erotic.
     "I see," Dana said in response, her heart pounding.  "And how
does your 'friend' know so much about my likes and dislikes?"
     "Because my friend is also your friend, Dana," he murmured.
"A very good friend at that."
     Dana rapidly made a mental list of all her friends and
acquaintances that knew such intimate details about her private life.
There weren't many.  But then again, it wasn't difficult to
assume that any female would enjoy a relaxing bubble bath.  Most
women did.
     "So what else has your 'friend' told me about you?" Dana 
wanted to know.
     The man continued in his sexy voice.  "Only that you're a
beautiful woman and that you shouldn't be alone on a Friday night,
if you get my meaning."  His chuckle sent another tingle of pleasure 
into Dana's abdomen.
     Dana sighed as she felt the dormant sensations of arousal
overtake her.  She wasn't sure why she was allowing this man to
continue this aural seduction.  She wasn't sure why her body was
responding in all the right places to the mere sound of his voice.
That had never happened before.
     Well, maybe.  Once.  Okay, twice.  All right, more than once,
when her infinitely sexy partner had been in one of his rare
flirtatious moods.  When she would have gladly taken him up on his
suggestions if she could have assured herself that he wasn't
joking around with her.  Especially when they'd huddled together
in the Florida wilderness in an effort to keep warm.
     She winced as memories flooded her mind from that night.  How
Mulder had done everything short of propositioning her for hot and
heavy sex in the middle of the forest.  How she, in her insecurity
and unwillingness to believe that Mulder would want her, had 
refused him with a witty remark about raining sleeping bags.
     She should have just jumped him right there, damn the consequences.
     Now she was still alone, months later, her only source of
excitement being on the phone with an unknown but very seductive man.
 she thought miserably.
     "Dana?  Are you still there?" the man asked softly, bringing
her out of her reverie.
     She stammered into the phone.  "Yes.  Yes, I'm still here."

     "Good," he replied.  "I was beginning to think you'd hung up
on me."
     Dana inhaled a deep breath before answering him.  She
needed to feel attractive.  She needed to feel sexy.  It had been
so long since she had felt like a woman, like Dana.  She needed
this, even if it was a virtual seduction.
     She spoke softly into the receiver.  "Now why would I want to
do that?"
     A low groan emanated from somewhere on the other end of the
line, filling Dana's ears and flooding her senses with pleasure.
Yes.  She could do this.  She would do this.  She had denied
herself these feelings for far too long, and if she couldn't have 
them with Mulder, she'd settle for what she could get.
    "Dana..." the man whispered, "do you have any idea how your
voice turns me on?"
    Her eyes widened as she felt a dampness between her thighs.
    "God, I bet your body is as sexy as your voice," he sighed
into the phone.  "I wanna see it."
    Dana's breath began to come in rapid heaves as she realized the 
full extent of what was happening to her.  She was definitely
turned on by his voice as well.  She wondered who he was, how he'd
found her.  But she was glad, for now, that he was here, even if
he was a total stranger.
    A total stranger.  
    Dana suddenly remembered what she was doing and gasped.
    "What?" the man responded.  "What is it, Dana?  Am I moving
too fast for you?"
    "No," she said.  "I just remembered---you know my name, but---
but I don't know yours."  She paused for a second.  "I would like
to know your name."
    The man chuckled again.  "Well, I can't tell you my real name,"
he said, "but I'll give you something better.  Something
more sexy than my real name."  There was silence on the other end
of the phone for a few seconds as Dana waited patiently for his
response.
    "Well?" she wanted to know.
    The man spoke again.  "Mandrake," he said.  "Call me
Mandrake."
    "Mandrake, huh?"  Dana was smiling.  She knew very well the
reasons why the man had chosen that particular word, given the
circumstances of their present encounter.  "Interesting that you
should choose the mandrake plant as your alias," she said to him.
    "And why is that?" he asked.
    "Well," she replied, "being a scientist and a doctor by
profession, I know all about the uses of various natural herbs."
    "You do, now?" Mandrake wanted to know.  "Tell me some of these...
uses."
    A slight pause allowed Dana to collect her thoughts.  "Well,
it's been known for years that mandrake has a variety of uses.
Mandrake contains the alkaloids atropine and scopolomine, which in
mild doses acts as a soporific, or a sleep inducer.  In large
quantities, however, these alkaloids can cause death in a person,
therefore direct ingestion of the root is highly toxic."
    "Fascinating."  The low rumble of Mandrake's voice penetrated
Dana to her very core as she continued her speech.
    "Mandrake is also useful as a mild anasthetic," Dana said. 
"It was known to have been used in ancient times, when criminals
were crucified.  It also acts as an emetic, which induces
vomiting."  Well, so much for appearing attractive to a perfect
stranger.  Her clinical side had gotten the best of her for only a
few seconds and here she was, spouting out unnecessary and quite
undesirable information to a man she barely knew.   Particularly
the vomiting part.  What was she thinking?
    "But what does that have to do with the choice of my name?"
Mandrake wanted to know.  "None of these uses have any
significance to me."
    Dana smiled again, unsure how to continue the conversation.
"Well, I'm sure you've heard of the somewhat---erotic properties
associated with mandrake."
    "Erotic properties?" Mandrake asked.  "Why don't you refresh
my memory on some of them."
    The grin on Dana's face began to widen as she stumbled through
the next sentence.  "Um, normally doctors aren't---interested in
pursuing the non-scientific aspects of medicinal herbs," she 
replied, feeling a growing heat on her cheeks.  "But from time to
time we hear of things that others believe to be true."
    "Such as?" Mandrake wanted to know.
    Dana could feel the fire in her cheeks as she briefly
explained the somewhat off-topic uses for mandrake root.  "Well,
for centuries it's been widely held that mandrake was a powerful
aphrodisiac," she said to him.  "Couples would partake of the root
in small quantities to fuel their, um, sexual desire."
    "Mhm..." Mandrake commented.  "And what else?"
    "Well," Dana continued, "others who were interested in
attracting a member of the opposite sex would drink a tea made
from the mandrake root, or entice their beloved to partake of the
root in order to win their desire and eternal love."
    "How interesting," he answered, his voice humming with sexual
promise.  "Ye Olde Love Potion Number Nine."
    "Something like that," Dana said, attempting to rid the 
incredible flush on her face by fanning herself agitatedly.
    Mandrake hummed a response to her statement, then spoke again.
"I always knew that mandrake was an aphrodisiac, but I never knew 
how powerful it was.  Did these little love potions succeed in
capturing the love of a lifetime?"
    "No one knows for certain," Dana told him.  "Clinical results
haven't been substantial enough to prove that story.  But there
have been several instances in history to prove that there was
great love between two people who had ingested the mandrake root
as a love potion.  Whether they are myth or medicine, we'll never
know."
    Mandrake continued to listen with great interest.  "I never
knew there were so many uses for mandrake root," he commented.
"You're a very intelligent woman, Dana."
    Dana found herself blushing, although she was aware that the
man could not see her.  "Well, thank you very much," she murmured
into the phone.  "Although my scientific demeanor tends to be
boring and somewhat asexual to the average layman, I appreciate
your comment."
    "Boring?"  Mandrake said.  "You could never be boring.
Never."
    Dana laughed softly.  "It's easy to say that to someone you've
never met."
    "Perhaps," he said, "but something tells me that if we were to
meet, I would be far from bored."
    That voice...God, did he know what that voice could do to her? 
She was finding herself very warm and very wet in certain places,
not to mention the exquisite ache between her thighs.
    "So..." Mandrake said, his voice becoming huskier, "what do
*you* believe about mandrake's erotic qualities?"
    This time Dana felt the heat of her blush all throughout her
body, to the tips of her toes.  "Um...what was the question
again?"  She hoped he would just drop the matter.
    "I said, what do you believe about mandrake's erotic
qualities?"  There was a lilting yet sexual tone to his voice,
making Dana wonder if his question referred to flora or fauna.
Deciding to play dumb, she opted for the flora of the subject at
hand.
    "Well..." Dana said, taking a deep breath, "Being a scientist,
I would have to be skeptical about mandrake's erotic qualities.
Particularly since I've never sampled its root before."  Damn, that
had come out wrong.  All wrong.  She heard the groan on the other
end of the phone and sighed as she felt the electric current 
between them multiply by infinity.
    Mandrake spoke again.  "And if you had tried it out, and if it
did have this incredible sexual power over you, what would you 
believe then?"
    Dear God, this man named Mandrake knew exactly what to say at
exactly the right time.  Dana moaned as she felt the insides of 
her womb begin to tingle with expectation of erotic fulfillment.
"Ummm..." she interjected, scrambling to come up with an answer,
"...I...would still hold true to my theory that the most potent
aphrodisiac in the world is the human mind."
    Damn.  Even her skepticism was being turned against her, she
realized as Mandrake let out a hearty laugh, obviously reading
much more into her statement than there had actually been.  How
*did* she get herself into these predicaments?
    Mandrake was still laughing moments later.  "All right then,
Dr. Dana," he said, chuckling, "let's see you prove your theory.
Right now."
    Dana gasped.  What exactly was he asking of her?  What did she
have to prove, particularly to a total stranger?  Surely not....
    "Wh-what do you want me to do?" she asked him softly, unsure 
of how to proceed with this conversation.
    Mandrake chuckled again.  "I want you to test out your theory
like any good scientist would.  Tell me your fantasies.  Give them
to me.  Prove to me how excited a person can get from a sexual
fantasy."
    "Ohhhh...."  Dana's voice trailed off as she realized just
what this man was requesting.  Up until now, the conversation had
been harmless.  Fun.  Controllable.  Now, however, they were at a
crossroads, leading to a destination she feared would involve more
than a casual little chat.
    With a perfect stranger.
   
END PART 1

From agentxdoll@aol.com Tue Jul 14 23:24:52 1998
Date: 12 Jul 1998 21:59:14 GMT
From: AgentXDoll 
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Cinnamon Calling II:"Mandrake's Message" by Bidie McCucholl (NC-17) 2/4

Oh, what the hell.  She'd already gone too far as it was.
What more could it hurt to go even farther?
    "Are you there, Dana?" Mandrake asked.
    "I'm here," she replied breathlessly, trying to find some
semblance of logical thought.  
    "Do you still want to do this?" he wanted to know.  "Because 
if you're uncomfortable at all with this---"
    "No," Dana said, a curt reply to Mandrake's very concerned
query.  "No.  I'm fine.  I was just---thinking of where to begin."
    "Well, for starters," Mandrake said, "why don't you start with
something that most turns you on?  Anything you want."
    Dana sighed heavily.  She had never revealed any of her
private fantasies to anyone, including the few lovers she'd had in 
her lifetime.  Slowly, softly, she began.
    "Well, sometimes I like to imagine that I'm an exotic harem
girl," she told him, "and that I have just been bought by the
sultan into his enormous family.  He notices me from the moment he
looks at me and calls me to his private chambers the very first
night in my new home."
    "What does he want with you?" Mandrake asked.
    "I believe the question is, what doesn't he want with me?"
Dana said, hearing a low groan on the other end of the phone.  "We
make love all night long in every position imaginable.  He teaches
me everything he knows about love, and when it's over, I am shown
back to my room, exhausted."
    "What does he do to you, Dana?" Mandrake asked softly, almost
in a whisper.
    "Everything," Dana said breathlessly.  "I am helpless to do
anything but to enjoy his ministrations.  He is a fantastic
lover...so sensual, so tender, and yet so forceful all at the same
time.  Knowing that the same man who is caressing me could kill me 
just as easily makes it even more exciting."
    Mandrake sighed into Dana's ear.  "What else turns you on,
Dana?  Is there someone you like to dream about?  To fantasize 
about?  Someone who might be the object of your ultimate desires?"
    Dana closed her eyes as images of Mulder flashed vividly
through her senses.  Images of him in those godawful ties.  Images
of him half-naked from the waist up.  Still more heated images of
Mulder removing those second-skin blue jeans she loved to see him
wear on his off days, to reveal every part of him.  "Yes," she 
replied, her voice strained from the tension of the moment.
"There is...there is someone."
    "Who is he?" Mandrake asked.
    Dana sighed again.  "Someone I can't have," she murmured.
"Someone who would never want me."
    "What makes you so sure?" Mandrake wanted to know.  "If you're
as beautiful as I think you are, I'm sure you'd have no problem
getting his attention."
    Dana frowned.  "I just don't know if he notices me or not,"
she told him.  "Sometimes he seems to be so absorbed in his own
causes that he loses sight of the other things around him."
    "Things like you," he commented, drawing another smile from 
Dana.
    "Yeah, things like me," she replied in affirmation.
    "Who is he?  What does he do?" Mandrake asked.
    Dana sighed.  She shouldn't be revealing this information to a
stranger.  It just did not feel right.  Besides, what if this
Mandrake guy was a good friend of Mulder's?  What would she do if
Mulder found out about her little confession?  She would be 
laughed at for the rest of her Bureau days.  Worse yet, she would
probably never be able to face Mulder squarely in the eye again.
A prospect Dana was not able to even consider.  He had such
beautiful eyes....
    "Dana?" he said, prompting her out of her fantasy.
    "Oh, sorry," she answered, shaking her head in an attempt to
clear it of Fox Mulder.  But to no avail.  "He---ahm, he---works
for the Justice Department, as do I.  In fact, we're both federal
agents.  And partners."
    Her reply was greeted with silence on the other end of the
line. "Are you there?" she asked.
    Several seconds later, she heard a brief grunt as a
confirmation of her query.
    "Partners, huh."  Mandrake chuckled.  "That makes it awfully
convenient."
    "What do you mean?"  What was he getting at?
    "Well," Mandrake continued, "If you're partners, you're 
constantly working together all the time.  If you wanted to make
a move, it would be easy for you to let him know how you felt and
see which way the chips would fall."
    "Out of the question," Dana refused.  "He'll never know how
much I need to have him in my life."
    "And why is that?" His voice sounded strained all of a sudden.
    "Well, because---because he thinks I don't need anyone in my
personal life.  He thinks I get along just fine without anyone.  
But if he really knew my heart, he would know how much I need him 
as more than a friend and a partner."
    Again, silence for several moments.  "Would that be such a bad
thing for him to see how much you need him?"
    Dana closed her eyes, her breath caught somewhere in her
throat.  "Yes," she whispered, her mind flooding with future
images of Mulder teasing her, joking about her, rejecting her.
She could brave the forces of the universe with Mulder and lay
down her life for him, but she would *never* let him see her need.
Her desire.  Her love.
    Mandrake suggested an alternative possibility.  "Maybe he 
already knows how you feel and is just waiting for you to tell
him.  To admit it to him.  And to yourself."
    Dana expelled the breath she had held for several seconds.
"He'd laugh at me.  He'd tell me I was crazy.  I'd never be able
to work with him again, and I'd rather have a professional 
relationship with him than risk everything to end up with 
nothing."
    "How will you know unless you try?" he said to her.
    When she didn't respond, he continued with his advice.  "You
know, my father always said that life is a gamble.  It's all one
big game of chance.  You play each hand you're dealt to the best
of your ability and hope that your hand's good enough to rake in
the chips.  Sometimes the hands are safe.  Easy win.  Sometimes
they're not and you have to bluff.  You place all your chips on
the table and you cross your fingers, say your prayers, and
hope that Lady Luck is kind to you."
     Dana slowly nodded in agreement.
     "But," he told her, "if you're content to play with the 
crappy hand you're dealt, and you don't take that risk, you
lose.  No chance of getting the big bucks.  You lose from the
moment you're handed the cards."  He paused for a minute.  "Now
which sounds more agreeable to you?  Playing it safe and losing
anyway, or taking the chance and at least having a possibility
of winning the kitty?"
     Dana smiled.  "Something tells me your father was a damn good
poker player."  She heard a slight chuckle on the other end of the 
phone in response to her comment.
     "He was," Mandrake replied.  "He was also damn good at figuring 
out life at an early age."
     "I guess so."
     "He always had some pearl of wisdom for every situation," he
said to her.  "Some little word of advice that totally made sense
for any occasion.  He was a wise man, one of the last in the world."
     "I'm sorry," Dana said with deep sympathy.  "I lost my father
several years ago as well."
     "Then you understand," he said.  "You understand how precious
life is.  How you shouldn't waste a day wondering if you should do
A, B, or C on your eternal To Do list.  Just do it, Dana.  Just
take the chance.  Lay it all out on the line."
     Her heart was racing, her palms sweaty from the moving speech
this stranger had given her.  He wasn't some sex offender or some
stalker, just a genuine man who had taken an interest in her well-
being.  Now that she thought of it, it was probably her mother's
doing that this man had called her.  Another plan in her mother's
schemes and devices to get Dana married off in this lifetime.
     So why hadn't she hung up?
     "Did my mother put you up to this?" she asked Mandrake with
intense curiosity, her eyebrows furrowed in a frown.
     "Your mother...?  What?"
     "Don't play dumb with me, Mandrake.  Did Maggie Scully give
you my number?"
     "Maggie...?"  Mandrake seemed to be confused about the recent
turn in the conversation.  "I don't understand."
     Dana sighed in exasperation.  "Never mind," she said, rolling
her eyes.  "She probably swore you to absolute secrecy anyway."
When he didn't respond, she added, "It would be just like her to
do something like that."
     "Can you blame her?" Mandrake asked her.  
     "What?"
     "Can you blame her for wanting to see you happy and in love?"
he continued, his voice a continual caress in Dana's ear.  "Every
mother wants their child to know real love.  Heart-stopping, knee-
knocking, real love.  And you're willfully denying yourself the
opportunity because of some selfish, stubborn pride that convinces
you that you don't need that kind of love to be fulfilled in 
life."
     Dana gasped.  "How dare you---"
     "Wait a minute; I'm not finished."  The man's voice was 
gradually growing higher and higher in tone as a result of his
heightened emotions.  "What you don't know is that this kind of
love you've rejected all your life is the only kind of love that
CAN make you happy.  The kind of love that most people spend
a lifetime searching for.  Lady Luck has been kind to just put
it in front of you and here you are rejecting the possibility
of being eternally happy, all because of pride.  Well maybe
your mother's right.  Maybe you need someone to talk some
sense into your head."
      Dana said nothing for several seconds, deep in thought over
what this man, this complete stranger, had said to her.  When she
finally responded, her voice was nearly a whisper.  "How do you
know that Lady Luck has put such a kind of love in front of me?"
She frowned as she spoke into the receiver.  "You know nothing
about Mulder.  You know nothing about him, his moods, his 
eccentric little habits, his mannerisms.  If anyone were to know
if Mulder loved me, believe me, I would.  I would've seen it by
now."
     When her response was met by silence, Dana continued.  "A
scientist never throws himself whole-heartedly into a hypothesis
he hasn't fully tested first.  A scientist never believes a 
theory that hasn't had some measure of validity attached to it.
Mulder has never said or done anything to indicate he loves me,
therefore I cannot assume that he loves me or has any sort of
romantic feelings for me."
     There was a long sigh on the other end of the phone.  "Well
maybe he's waiting for you to say something so that he can SHOW 
you how much he feels for you.  Maybe he's just as scared as you
are."
     Dana's heart stopped.  Mulder?  Scared?  Afraid to tell her
he loved her?  Impossible.  But the thought had never occurred to
her before.  What if...?
    "Why don't you say something to him, Dana, anything.  Just be
honest with him."  Mandrake's voice lowered to a low murmur.
    Dana attempted to reply, but the words kept losing themselves
on her tongue.  "I--I wouldn't know what to say," she told him.
"I don't think I could say anything."
    "Well, then, plan it beforehand."
    "No, I'm terrible at planning speeches.  I usually end up
sounding like an idiot."
    "Then plan it now.  Right now," he said.  "Practice on me."
    Dana was certain she'd heard him wrong.  Surely he wasn't that
concerned to get involved between her and Mulder.  She didn't even
know the man, didn't even know his real name, much less anything 
about him.  But if he was willing to help....
    She sighed.  "All right, then."  She took a deep breath before
continuing.  "I would start off by telling him that I'd wanted to
do this for years, but I---"
    "No," Mandrake said.  "That won't work."
    "What, what I just said?"
    "No, not what you just said, but the manner in which you 
said it."
    "Why not?"
    "If you're going to practice what you'll say, you might as 
well pretend you're talking to him right now.  In the room with
you."
    "What?"
    "I mean, talk to HIM.  Talk to Mulder.  Don't talk about him
or around him.  And speak into the phone while you're doing it.
Don't worry, if you say something that doesn't sound right, I'll
let you know.  At least this way you'll be able to take back
anything you don't mean to say to him."
    Dana nodded.  "Okay," she said.  What harm could it do?  The 
man already knew her deepest feelings and fears anyway.  It was
a practical idea to rehearse her confession anyway, and any 
objective opinion would be a great help.
    "Well?" Mandrake said.  "I'm ready when you are."
    Dana took in a quick breath, then released it.  "I can't do
this," she said.  
    "Why not?"
    A long sigh from Dana followed Mandrake's question.  "I just
can't," she said.  "It's very difficult for me to imagine talking
to Mulder about...situations of this nature."  She grimaced.  
"While your idea is a perfectly good solution in theory, I don't
think I can confess my feelings to an imaginary person."
    "Really?" Mandrake said.  "Didn't you have an imaginary 
friend when you were little?"
    "Yeah," she replied, "but you'll have to agree that this...is
somewhat different."
    Mandrake chuckled in response to her comment.
    "So do you have an alternative solution, Dana?" he asked her.
    Dana thought for a minute before answering him.  "Nothing's
coming to mind," she said.  "Unless..."
    "Unless what?"
    A subtle smile slowly made its way across Dana's lips. 
"Unless you would like to pretend along with me."
    "I..." Mandrake's voice was nearly a whisper.  "I...don't
understand..."
    "Well, I'll clarify my request," she replied, her eyes
fixed on the wall.  "If you could pretend to be Mulder, it
might help me get everything out much easier."
    She heard a swift intake of breath on the other end of 
the phone.  "Dana..."
    "Yes?"
    "You...you don't know what you're asking..."
    "What?"  She frowned.  "Why not?  Wasn't this your idea
to begin with?"
    "Well..." His voice diminished to practically nothing.
"It's just...I don't know if I can pretend to be Mulder."
    Dana carefully listened to every word Mandrake had
said before responding.  "Yes you can.  It's easy.  Just
sit back and let me do all the work.  All you have to do
is listen."
    "Are you sure...?"
    "Yes, I'm sure.  It's the only way I can get this out
before I have to do this in real life," she reasoned.
    Dana heard a long sigh on the other end of the line.
"All right, Dana," Mandrake replied.  "I'll be Mulder."
    Dana nodded in acceptance, in spite of the fact that her
gesture could not be seen by the mysterious Mandrake.  
Her lips curved in the slightest hint of a smile, as she began
to ponder the various ways in which she could confess her 
feelings over the phone...to a complete stranger no less, 
pretending to be the object of her secret affections.
    "Hmmm..." she murmured into the receiver.  "If
I wanted to reveal my most secret emotions to someone,
how would I go about it?"
    Mandrake paused before replying.  "Why don't you
start off by imagining your surroundings.  Imagine
a quiet place, somewhere far away from the bustle of
everyday life.  Some place peaceful, relaxing."
    Dana closed her eyes and began to let her 
mind wander into a rare moment of fantasy.  She sighed
and smiled as the familiar images of a family mountain retreat
began to flow into her consciousness.
    "Where are you, Dana?"  Mandrake's voice seemed to be
eternities away.
    "I'm...in my family's old mountain cabin. In Colorado."
She sighed again as the welcoming images began to surface
from the depths of her childhood memories.  Memories of games
played with Bill Junior and Melissa.  Memories of heartwarming
fireside talks with the family, of the endless times
her Ahab read to his Starbuck by the embracing embers of the
fire, while the elements of wind and rain waged war
with one another outside the cabin.  "That's where we are."
   "We?" Mandrake asked.
   "We," Dana mumbled, lost in her fantasy.  "Mulder and myself."
   Suddenly Dana heard her unknown caller begin to 
speak in a strangely familiar tone of voice.  That sexy
baritone timbre she was all too familiar with after five
years.  Was it...could it be...?
    she told herself, sinking
her languid body onto the length of the couch.
   "Why am I here, Dana?" Mandrake asked her, referring to
himself as Mulder.
   Dana opened her eyes and frowned.  Something was not quite
right.  "No," she said.  "Don't call me Dana." 
   A brief silence greeted her request.
   "Scully," she replied, closing her eyes again,
imagining the blazing fire of the warm mountain cabin and
a very handsome FBI partner sitting at her side.  "I want
you to call me Scully."
   "Scully."  The voice was dark, deep, and soft as a
whisper.  It was Mulder, completely Mulder, even if only
in her tempting, tranceful, state of illusion.
   Dana sighed contentedly.  "That'sss more like it..."
she hissed in a half-voice, extending her body to occupy
the full length of the couch.  "Talk to me, Mulder."
   She barely heard the ragged breath on the other end
of the line.
   "Scully..." he said.  "Why...why am I here with you in
your family's cabin?"
   Dana smiled.  "I invited you, silly," she said, in a 
girlish voice.  "To get away for a while.  From Washington,
from work, from that joke of an existence we call life."
   "I see," he murmured in response.  "What room are we in?"
   "The den," she replied lazily.  "We're sitting on the large
couch in front of a huge fireplace.  You've just built the
biggest fire in an effort to prove your manhood to me."
   Mandrake chuckled.  "I have to prove my manhood to you?"
he asked.  "I must really want to impress you with my 
manly prowess."
   Dana giggled in response, imagining the look Mulder would
give her if he had indeed built a blazing fire in her cabin.
No doubt he would have considered it a crowning achievement.
   "And we've just eaten the best dinner, with rich dessert
and an exceptional wine.  We've both stuffed ourselves silly
and are about to fall asleep."  She sighed again.
   "Oh, we can't have that, can we?" Mandrake said with a 
hint of mischief.
   "Well, then, you have to keep me awake...somehow."  She
smiled impishly.
   "I have plenty of ideas," he rumbled into Dana's ear.
   She gasped as she imagined Mulder's voice whispering 
such a sexy comment into her ear.  He seemed so real...
right in front of her...the warmth of the fireplace
melting her inhibitions, the pure pleasure of having him
so close to her...so close...
   "Why don't you...tell me some of your ideas?" she 
suggested, imagining his face only inches from hers.
   Mandrake chuckled again in that sexy voice of his.
"Not until you tell me why you manipulated me into coming
up here," he said.
   "Mmm...." Dana hummed into the phone, her voice suddenly
sultry and sexual.  "Do you really need an answer to that?"
   "Don't beat around the bush, Scully," he said, his voice
lowering as well.  "Tell me."
   Dana inhaled a slow, sustained breath before continuing.
"I brought you here to tell you something...something very
important to me.  To us."
   There was a brief silence before Mandrake answered her.
"You're entering the Iditarod dog race."
   Dana giggled again.  To be a stranger, the man, oddly
enough, had the mouth of her Mulder.
   Her Mulder....
   She smiled.  "No, I'm not entering the Iditarod dog race."
   "You're entering me in the Iditarod dog race."  He said
it flatly, with no trace of intended humor.  Just like Mulder...
   Was it just her imagination, or was this stranger's voice
beginning to sound suspiciously familiar?  Dana frowned
and shook her head vigorously in an attempt to clear 
her mind of these questions.
    she chided
herself.  
   "Scully?  Dana?  Are you there?"
   "Yes, I'm here," she replied, willing herself out of her
private thoughts.  As if in obedience to her command, her body
relaxed again and again she resumed her fantasy.  "Now...where
were we?"
   Mandrake chuckled softly.  "You've forgotten already?"
   She smiled.  "I...just got sidetracked for a minute."  
   His chuckle grew louder in response to Dana's reply.  
"Dana Scully doesn't seem to be the type to get sidetracked
at all.  Must've been a substantial distraction."
   When she did not answer, he continued.  "Does the thought
of Mulder distract you, Dana?"
   Her sharp intake of breath was a reply in itself.  "It's...
a pleasant distraction.  A very...pleasurable distraction,"
she told him, her voice humming with sensuality.
   "I see," he said, his voice lowering as well.
   "So...where were we again?" she queried, her sky blue eyes
veiled dreamily by long auburn lashes.
   "The Iditarod," Mandrake replied with a trace of dry humor
in his voice.
   "Oh yes.  The Iditarod."  A warm smile crept across Dana's
full lips.  "I had something I needed to tell you."
   "So tell me already," he said, with the slightest hint of
impatience in his voice.
   Dana inhaled a long, slow breath, imagining the cabin, the
fire, the satisfaction of a perfect dinner with perfect
company.  Suddenly it wasn't so difficult to imagine herself
revealing her most intimate fantasies and feelings to Mulder.
The stage had been set.  The actors were present, at least in
her fantasy.  The script...well, no script had been written yet,
but she would attend to that matter directly.
   "Mulder..." she began.  "I...I don't know how to put into
words what I want to say...somehow it seems too casual, too
cliche, too trite, to merely verbalize."  She imagined his look of
puzzlement, of wonder, of curiosity, and concern all at once
as she began her confession.
   Expecting to hear something in reply, Dana paused briefly.
Silence was her only response.  
   "And as you know," she continued, "I am far from casual,
clich‚, or trite."  She exhaled the rest of her pent-up breath
in one swift release.
   "So get to it already," she heard him say...she imagined Mulder
saying.  Just like Mulder...blunt, aggressive, annoyingly and
bitingly direct.  Cut to the chase.  No tolerance for sidestepping
or stalling.
   Which was what Dana Scully was doing at that exact moment.
Trying to form a logical, coherent manner in which her feelings
could be revealed, instead of sounding like some gawky adolescent
schoolgirl admitting her crush to her object of adoration.  Truth
be known, she felt like a schoolgirl.  Vulnerable.  Self-conscious.
Afraid.  Afraid of rejection.  Afraid of unrequited affection.
   Just afraid in general.
   "Scully...?" he murmured softly.
   She envisioned Mulder's face, full of curiosity, 
anticipation.  That handsome face drawing nearer to hers,
encouraging her discomfort, prompting her to reveal what 
she most wanted---and feared---to reveal.  Those velvety hazel
eyes, searching and probing her own, for the answers she 
tenuously held on the borders of her soul.
   "Mulder..." she said, choking on her own voice as she fought to
contain the sounds, the words, she was about to form.  "I..."
   "Tell me, Scully," she heard him say.
   "Mulder, I...."  Her heart was pounding, her pulse racing.
It was as if her fantasy had become reality.  As if Mulder was
no longer in her mind, but in the room with her.  Even in 
the comfort of her own apartment, in the safety of an 
anonymous confession, Dana could not bring herself to
purge her heart of its burden of a secret affection.
   "Scully, tell me.  You can trust me."
   "I trust you, Mulder," she said, "You know I trust you.
But this goes beyond trust, beyond anything you or I have
ever known or experienced."
   "What could go beyond trust, Scully?" she heard him ask.
In her mind, she saw Mulder's look of concern as he placed
a hand on her shoulder.  The mere thought of his touch on 
her set her skin afire, ablaze with wanton desire.
   This time, however, Dana knew the fire was too great 
to suppress, to quench with other thoughts, other 
emotions, other distractions.  This fire had to run
its full course, to consume her, to consume everything
in its path, in its quest for changing an ember of fear
to a flame of love.
   "Mulder," she said, taking a deep breath, "the feelings
I have for you transcend trust.  These feelings have
always transcended my trust in you.  I trust you with my
life.  You know that.  I trust you with my soul.  You
know that as well.  But there's something you don't know...
something you've never known that I've wanted to entrust
in you for years."
   "What is it, Scully?" the voice on the other end was
now a mere whisper.
   Somehow finding the courage to speak her next words,
Scully murmured, "I trust you with my heart, Mulder."
   Suddenly a ragged sigh penetrated the receiver, 
entering the delicate shell of Dana's ear, resounding
and reverberating throughout the fragile canal.
   "Scully..." she heard him sigh again.
   She closed her eyes as she imagined Mulder, his eyes
closed, his head bowed in deep contemplation of what she
had just said to him.  What would he be thinking?  What
would possibly run through Mulder's mind if she really
confessed her feelings to him?  How would he respond?
   "I love you, Mulder.  And it is my hope...my
most fervent hope...that you love me in return."  There.
She had said it.  She had finally confessed her most
burning secret to her most cherished friend and partner,
even if in fantasy.
   But in fantasy, all dreams could be fulfilled, all
wishes granted.  Happily ever after, as the childhood
fairy tales suggested.  A real-life confession to Mulder
would not be fantasy.  She could never place her faith
in the outcome of a fantasy.  Still....
     The sound was exquisite.
The four most beautiful words in the realm of her
vernacular, spoken, expressed.  Like the ancients,
who believed in the omnipotence of the spoken word,
newfound courage filled her vitals as the strength 
and might of those words began to conquer her fears.  
   She suddenly heard a response...a soft whisper
in the ear of the receiver.  "Scully...Dana...that
was beautiful."
   "Do you think it...will be acceptable?" she wanted
to know, suddenly filled with the power of the cosmos.
   "I...I was touched.  Moved beyond words.  It was...
it was perfect."  He released a heavy sigh into the
phone.
   Dana closed her eyes as she imagined Mulder being
moved beyond words.  Moved enough to close the distance
between them on the couch and claim her lips in 
ardent, animal passion.  And then....
   "Dana?"
   It took several moments for Dana to realize that
her substitute lover was addressing her.  "Oh, I'm 
sorry," she said.  "I was...I was lost in thought."
   "Really."  Mandrake chuckled.  "What were you
thinking about?"
   She smiled secretively.  "I'm sure you can easily
draw your own conclusions, dear sir."
   His laugh sent another wave of chills up and down Dana's
spine.  Who was he?  What had caused him to take such
an interest in her life?  And why did his voice sound
so excitingly familiar to her?
   "Ah, but I don't *want* to draw my own conclusions,"
he said to her.  "I want you to tell me.  Tell me
what you were thinking.  You started the fantasy; 
complete it."
   "Complete it?"  Dana suddenly felt the heat of the
blood rushing to her face.  "You mean...?"
   "You know what I mean, Dana."  Mandrake's voice was
low, dark, and charged with sexual intent.  "Mulder is
in that room with you, Scully, and he wants to know
how much you love him.  How much you care for him.
I don't think words will satisfy him at this delicate
stage in your confession."
   Dana took several long, slow breaths, fighting to
control the signs of her now-obvious arousal.  Her
body had now begun throbbing in several places she'd
nearly forgotten about...it had been so long.  Too
long.
   "Talk to me, Scully," he rumbled into the phone.
"Tell me what you would want from Mulder...what
you need from him."
END PART TWO

From agentxdoll@aol.com Tue Jul 14 23:24:58 1998
Date: 12 Jul 1998 22:00:18 GMT
From: AgentXDoll 
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Cinnamon Calling II:"Mandrake's Message" by Bidie McCucholl (NC-17) 3/4

Her eyes began to dance underneath the delicate
cover of their lids as she envisioned Mulder's face
nearing her own, his full, pouting lips parted ever
so slightly in anticipation of what she most
wanted him to do.  Then she was aware of her own
mirrored movements and licked her lips hungrily.
   "Mulder..." she pleaded into the phone.  "You're
going to kiss me.  I've been waiting for this..."
   "Yes..." she heard the faint whisper in the
receiver.
   "Closer and closer we come to one another...then,
then finally...our lips touch for the first time."
Dana sighed as she imagined how baby soft Mulder's
lips would be, pressed against her own.
   A muffled groan greeted her ears.
   "Softly...slowly...ever so slowly...your lips
begin to move against mine," she said, her voice
suddenly heavy with desire.  "The feeling is incredible.
I never knew such pleasure could come from something 
so deceptively simple."
   Another muffled groan.
   As if by magic, the towel which had been so snugly
wrapped around Dana's petite body began to slide away
from its owner's torso.  Dana gasped as she watched
the towel gently undo itself, from the fullness of
her breasts, down to the gentle swell of her hips,
yet she did nothing to attempt to cover herself.
   As a matter of fact, she enjoyed the feeling of
the cool air on her satin flesh.  It was a luxury
in which she had rarely indulged herself.  She
remembered times of impetuous youth, exhibiting
herself before young, exuberant lovers who had
never complained of her wanton display.
   Would Mulder complain?
   First, he would have to become her lover.
   As soon as she began to envision delectable
scenarios in which to display herself to Mulder, she was
interrupted from her private thoughts.  "Dana...Dana, please...
please continue."  His statement sounded more like
an imperative plea than a suggestion.
   Closing her eyes, she continued her fantasy.
"Your lips move down to my neck...oh, God, it
feels so good...there is such power in your kiss, such
strength, yet such gentleness."  Involuntarily her hands
trailed upward to her neck, her fingers feathering up
and down in a gentle caress, imagining his lips there.
   "Suddenly you tire of being gentle.  Your lips
begin to invade my neck.  I feel the pressure as you
kiss and suck and nip with your teeth.  I feel the
bruises beginning to form, but I don't mind.  I love
your passion.  I want more of it."
   She was keenly aware of him as he uttered her name, in
a low, guttural groan that nearly sent her over the
edge.
   "You move lower, to my breasts.  Oh..." Dana's voice
trailed off as she imagined the languorous pleasure
of his lips covering her breasts.  "Then my nipples...
your tongue...your teeth...." Her sentences became
garbled phrases as her hand began to caress herself.
   "I want all of you, Dana," he breathed into the phone.
"I can't wait much longer."
   "I can't either," she replied, her hands moving
frantically over her breasts, over her body.  "Oh, God,
Mulder, I want you so bad..."
   "Dana...oh, Dana," she heard him croon into the
receiver.  "Don't deny me this.  Don't ever deny us this."
   "No, no, never," she gasped, her hand finally resting
upon the satin bud of her arousal.  "I want you to make
love to me.  Now."
   "Then make it happen," he growled into her ear.  "Make
it happen, Dana.  Do it."
   Dana began to pant heavily as steamy, sexy images of
a naked Mulder began to come into focus.  A very handsome,
naked, and aroused Mulder, on top of her, in her bed.  
Kissing her all over, murmuring her name, touching her.
"We're in bed," she gasped breathlessly into the receiver.
"You're on top of me, kissing me, touching me, loving me
with every part of you except the one I need the most.  I
want that part of you so badly, but you tease me.  You
tease me until I beg you for it."
   "Beg me, Dana," she heard him groan.
   "Take me, Mulder, all of me...Come inside me.  Fill me.
Complete me in every sense.  Now."  Her 'begging' suddenly
had become a biting command.
   Her reply was met with a series of ragged groans and
breaths.  "Dana....yes...."
   And then she cried out in pleasure as her fingers found 
their destination....inside her most secret place.  Her mind
was filled with images of Mulder entering her, his face
contorted with pleasure as he gently filled her warm, wet
softness with his own heated hardness.
   "You're inside me," she whispered into the phone.  "Oh my
God, you feel so good...."
   "Dana, Dana, Dana..." he sighed, over and over again.
   She continued.  "I wrap my legs around your hips to guide
you in further, more deeply inside of me.  I am amazed at how
well we fit together.  We are perfect...we are one."
   She heard him grunt an unintelligible response.
   "And then...we begin to move with each other...partners
in every sense....working in tandem with each other to 
achieve the heights of passion...desire.  I moan
and groan as you thrust deeply inside of me, as you withdraw
and then fill me, over and over.  There is nothing in the
world that can give me such joy, such pleasure, such 
happiness."
   "Oh, God..."
   She let out a strangled cry as her fingers increased the
tempo of their thrusts.  "You begin to move inside of me
more urgently, more passionately.  Our bodies are slick and
sweating from the heat we are creating, the energy we're 
expending.  I turn my head to lick the salt from your skin...
my God, you smell wonderful in the heat of our lovemaking."
   "Oh, Dana...please don't stop," he chanted, over and over.
   She gasped and let out another cry as she felt the first
spasms overtake her.  "I feel it coming," she groaned into
the receiver.  "I can't hold it back...you feel so wonderful
inside of me....oh GOD...."
   "Dana...Dana Scully, I love you," she heard him say.
   And then she came with a loud cry, with an orgasm so 
violent, that she felt her honeyed insides contract against
each other, sending her entire body into rapid convulsions.
She opened her deep sapphire eyes, darkened by the
exquisite rapture of heavenly fulfillment.  She cried her
beloved's name, over and over into the receiver, as the
spasms slowly subsided.
   "Dear God...oh, Mulder..." she murmured, as the bliss
of sweet release enveloped her.  Cradling the receiver
tenderly against her ear, she sighed contentedly into the
phone.
   Mandrake was the first to speak.  "That...that was...
that was---"
   "Incredible," Dana finished his sentence, sighing again.
"Absolutely incredible."
   And then she remembered.  The phone.  The pretense,
the fantasy.  No Mulder.  Only a stranger named Mandrake.
Suddenly she sat upright on the couch, frantically trying
to cover herself, although she knew no one could see her
nakedness.  
   "Dana...damn, you're beautiful..." the man murmured. 
"I only wish this Mulder guy could know what he has waiting
for him."  
   She frowned, suddenly enraged, indignant, and violated.
The stranger to whom she had so openly revealed herself,
the one who now held the secrets to all her hidden
desires and fantasies, was on the phone with her.  No Mulder.
It had never been Mulder; her mind and this stranger had
openly taken advantage of her vulnerability.  Again she
felt the blood rush to her face, but not from arousal.  
   "I'm hanging up," she hissed.  "Right now, you psycho."
   "What?" he exclaimed incredulously.  "What did I do?"
   "What did you do?!?" Dana yelled into the phone.  "You've
had me on a phone for God knows how long getting me to reveal
things about myself I won't even reveal to my own family, and
you have the balls to ask what you did?!?"  She hit a nearby
table in frustration.  "I'm calling the police so that they
can haul your ass into jail where you belong, you sick fucker."
   "Wait...wait a minute," he said in rebuttal.  "First off,
*YOU* didn't have to say anything.  I never forced you to
give me any answers; you did it out of your own free will."
He paused for a second.  "And before you call the police on
my ass, you should know that they can't arrest me."
   "Why not?" Dana said mockingly.
   "Well, why don't you go check your caller ID and see for 
yourself," the man said, in a voice that was not his own.  
A voice which was not strange to her.  A voice which she had
heard over and over again for five years.  Dear God, could it
be...was it...?
   Dana threw the phone on the couch and ran to the small
LCD screen that sat on the nightstand in her bedroom.  She
looked at the all-too-familiar combination of numbers as the
confirmation of her worst fears...or hopes...
   Dammit.


From agentxdoll@aol.com Tue Jul 14 23:25:03 1998
Date: 12 Jul 1998 22:01:20 GMT
From: AgentXDoll 
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Cinnamon Calling II:"Mandrake's Message" by Bidie McCucholl (NC-17) 4/4

   Slowly she walked back into the living room, her breath
coming in rapid gasps.  Damn him.  Damn him, damn him, DAMN
HIM.  
   It couldn't have been...all that time...and he'd never
said a word...he'd just continued with the pretense.  That 
bastard.  That cowardly bastard.  Too scared to come out
and tell her it was him.  And she'd been gullible enough
to believe him.  She'd been too stupid to go into the
bedroom and check the number before she'd waltzed off
into a dance of fantasy with him.  And now she'd confessed
everything...EVERYTHING....and he had gladly taken it all
in.  Even the heights of her orgasm, with his damned-to-Hell
name on her lips the whole time.  DAMN HIM.
   Slowly, tentatively, she picked up the phone, trying to
restore some measure of composure to her face, her demeanor,
her voice.  "Mulder," she said, her voice devoid of any
emotion.
   "Speaking," Fox Mulder replied, in that annoyingly
sarcastic tone of voice Dana knew too well.
   She scrambled to think of something to say...ANYTHING
to say to get her mind off her embarrassment, her anger,
her utter humiliation.  
   Nothing was coming to mind.
   "You know, Scully," Mulder said, again with dripping
sarcasm, "It's bad telephone protocol to keep silent
while someone is waiting on the other end."
   "Go to hell, Mulder," Dana retorted bitterly,
violently pacing the length of her living room.
   There was silence for several minutes as Dana continued
to think of the many ways she could express her complete
exasperation and frustration to her damnedly intrusive
partner.  The emotions were there, but how would one
express them without sounding vengeful, resentful?
   The bastard was speaking again.  Damn him.
   "Scully, are you going to say anything, or are you
just going to stand there with the phone in your hand
and give me the silent treatment for the next hundred
years?"
   "You deserve more than the silent treatment," Dana
hissed at him.  "How DARE you call me at home and
disturb my bath, violate my privacy, and procure 
extremely sensitive information out of me, information
you were NEVER supposed to know?  And not only that,
Mulder, but under an assumed name?"  Her rapid, enraged
breathing filled the silence between them.  "You 
deserve to be arrested, imprisoned for life...tortured,
beaten...hell, even castrated so you won't do this to
me or anyone else in the future."
   Mulder's swift intake of breath indicated to Dana
that her final remark had hit home.  She held her
head a little higher from her small victory.
   "Scully, do you honestly think that I make a regular
habit of calling lonely women on Friday nights and 
asking them to tell me their fantasies?"
   "I don't know WHAT you get off on, Mulder, and
frankly, I don't think I WANT to know," Dana retorted
insultingly.  "I've seen enough to gather a damn
good opinion about what you do in your free time."
   "Dammit, Scully," Mulder growled into the receiver,
"This doesn't have to get personal."
   "Mulder, this was personal a long time ago."
   "You're damn right, you hypocrite," Mulder bitingly
agreed.
   Dana's quick gasp was loud enough for Mulder to hear.
"I beg your pardon...?!" she hissed into the receiver.
   Mulder's reply was even more bitingly offensive than
his previous comment.  "I've been sitting here for the
last five minutes," he said, "taking your insults, hearing
you badmouth my life, my free time, my character.  Well,
you tell me something, Miss Dana Scully.  If I disturbed,
violated, and cajoled you into confession tonight, and
if your self-righteous, pious little ego can judge my
actions, how do you excuse YOUR actions the other night?"
   Dana found herself frowning in response to Mulder's
question.  What was he talking about?  "If you're going
to accuse me of something, Mulder, you better have a
damn good reason.  Otherwise this conversation is over."
   "I'm not finished," Mulder yelled into the receiver.
"You'd like to think you're so proper and proprietary,
don't you?  You make everyone think you're this reserved,
unemotional, practical, logical woman with no feelings
or emotions whatsoever.  The Ice Queen, isn't that what
they call you at Headquarters?"
   "Dammit, Mulder, get to it, or I'm hanging up right 
now."  She had a premonition that Mulder's point was
something she definitely did not want to hear.
   "And everyone believes your little charade, don't
they?  You created Scully to keep your true nature
from the rest of the world, from anyone who might
actually get too close to find that you're a real
flesh-and-blood woman.  Someone has penetrated
your defenses, Scully.  And you're scared out of your
mind."
   Dana's eyes widened as Mulder's words struck her
to her very core.  For once, she was speechless.
   "So how do you defend YOUR actions on Monday night
when you called me, Dana Scully?"  Mulder growled.
   Dana took a deep breath before answering him as 
calmly as she could.  "I didn't call you Monday night,
Mulder," she said.
   "Oh, really."  The edge in Mulder's voice seemed
to slash Dana to the heart.  "Perhaps you'd answer
to another name, then...Cinnamon."
   Dana was sure she had just gone into cardiac arrest.
Her heart ceased to beat for several seconds.
Pain in her chest...blood pooling in her hands and feet...
labored breath...slow loss of consciousness....
   "So tell me, Cinnamon," Mulder remarked with his
biting sarcasm, "was this just a one-time thing, or is
this your usual night job when you're not performing 
autopsies or drafting reports for your superiors?"
   Ohhhh.....How could he be so damn callous?  
"Damn you to Hell, Mulder.  I'm hanging up."
   "Why?  Another call from some horny man?"
   "Mulder, I won't take your insults."  She couldn't
take them at all.  Her vulnerable state had already
made her feel completely exposed to the man she loved.
His insults were driving the sword even deeper into 
her gut.
   "Well then, why don't you explain why you called
me on Monday night, not as Scully, not as Dana, but
as Cinnamon."  Mulder's voice was matter-of-fact,
businesslike.
   Slowly she sat on the couch, trying to think of some
intelligent response to his request.  Something logical,
rational, something he could accept as being a perfect
reason for her behavior.
   Unfortunately, Dana knew that none of the events from
the night in question had any logical or rational motive
behind them.  But she had to say something, to defend
herself, in the hope of possibly redeeming herself in the
eyes of her partner, her friend, her beloved.  Redemption
was imperative for her to be reconciled to him, to have
a chance for the relationship she most wanted...most
needed above all others....
   "Cinnamon?" Mulder interrupted her thoughts.  "I'm
waiting."
   She sighed.  "Please don't call me that," she said.
   "Why not?" he said.  "You were obviously comfortable
with it a few nights ago."
   "Mulder, I..."  Dana's voice trailed off as she 
realized her arguments would do nothing to sway Mulder
from his intentions.  He wanted the truth.  Well, he 
would have the truth.
   She began again.  "Mulder, do you remember any of the
events on Monday, besides that night?"
   Silence on the other end.  "Mulder?"
   "Yes," he said suddenly, almost hastily.  "Yes, I
remember."
   "Do you recall anything different about the events
during the day?" she wanted to know.  Yes, she'd heard
him say it...he'd noticed her change in attire.  He'd
revealed his desire for her over the phone, but she
needed to hear him say it.  To her, not Cinnamon.
   "Scully, we've been through this---"
   "Not this way, Mulder.  Not as ourselves.  Tell me,
Mulder.  Tell me what you thought about me, and I'll
do the same."
   She heard Mulder mutter something unintelligible 
into the phone, then she heard him sigh.  A very long
sigh.
   "When you walked into the office that morning,"
Mulder began, "wearing that suit...I, uh, I nearly
fell out of my chair onto the floor." She heard his
throat constrict as he forced the last few words out
of his larynx.     
   "Why, Mulder?  What was so shocking about my
attire that day?"  She knew...she needed to hear it
from him.   she pleaded
silently over the phone.
   "Scully...damn, Scully, you looked...well, you..."
Mulder was fumbling for a coherent sentence.  "I mean,
I'd never seen so---so much of you before."
   One auburn eyebrow arched in response.
   "No, that didn't come out right, Scully.  I'm sorry.
I mean, you were just...you were just...so beautiful...
and so damn sexy in that suit...in a way I'd never seen
you before...and I'm a man, Scully, I couldn't help but
notice...."
   A slight smile curved the corners of Dana's lips.
Yes.  He'd noticed, and he'd admitted it to her.  They
were halfway there.
   "I...I mean, I wanted to notice...I wanted to keep
anyone else from noticing.  I just wanted to notice you...
all day."  Mulder's voice suddenly lowered to a deeper,
more sexual timbre.
   Mulder's words sent Dana's entire body into 
pleasurable pins and needles.
   "I didn't know why you'd dressed like that," he said.
"I figured you had something after work, or some reasonable
excuse, but I was glad you'd dressed that way, regardless
of the reason.  Damn, you looked so good...."  His voice
became a husky murmur.
   Dana suddenly found her pulse again.  Rapidly increasing
to clinically dangerous levels.  She exhaled a pent-up 
breath as she heard Mulder's last few words over and over
in her head.
   Mulder continued again.  "Not only was I treated to a
new suit, but a new display of what was underneath.  Damn,
Scully," he said as his voice trailed to nothing but a
whisper, "when you leaned over my desk, I had to fight
the urge to throw you on the desk and take you right there
without asking.  And it took superhuman strength to keep
my hands to myself."
   Dana found herself suddenly breathing heavily...panting
like some female animal in heat.  She had to hold the phone
away from her mouth to keep Mulder from hearing her display
of desire.
   "Five years of sexual frustration, Scully, and then you
do this to me."  He moaned.  "A man can only take so much."
   She sighed, closing her eyes.  He'd wanted her.  He'd
wanted her more than she could've ever imagined.  And he'd 
finally admitted it to her.
   "I guess I was hoping that maybe you'd changed your mind,"
he continued, "that maybe you were open to the possibility 
of... of..."
   "Of us?" Dana was barely able to squeak the words 
out of her mouth.
   "Of us," Mulder repeated in affirmation.
   A sigh escaped Dana's lips.  "Mulder..." she murmured
into the phone.
   "And I had to fight so hard to keep it in, everything
that I'd wanted to say to you, everything I'd wanted to
do to you, for five fucking years, Dana, all because I
was afraid you'd turn me away.  So I kept it all in.
I don't know how, but I did."
   Dana sighed again into the phone.  "I don't know how
you were able to hide it so well," she said.  "I never
even knew you were feeling this way."
   Mulder laughed drily.  "Does the FBI give out awards
at the annual banquet for Most Emotionally and Sexually
Repressed Special Agent?"
   Dana could not repress her surfacing giggle.
   "You know, I should submit that one," he said.  "I
know of at least one candidate, if I can nominate
myself."
   Dana giggled again.  "You might have some competition,"
she said.  "I'd feel a moral responsibility to nominate
myself as well."
   This time it was Mulder's turn to laugh.  "Tough
call," he said.  "It'd be a difficult decision."
   "Yeah." Dana agreed with him.
   Suddenly she had an idea...a fantastic idea.  "Well,"
she murmured huskily, "we could always settle the matter
ourselves."  She crossed her fingers in the hope that
Mulder would take the bait.
   "I'm game if you're game," he replied, his voice 
humming with animal intent.
   Mulder never saw the victory leap Dana made from
the couch to the middle of her living room floor.
   "I dunno," she said flirtatiously, sashaying about
the room, "I'm not sure if you're...*up* to my level
of playing."
   "I'm a fast learner," Mulder murmured into the phone,
his voice sending another shower of chills down Dana's
spine.
   "But first..." he said suddenly, catching her off
guard, "you tell me why you called me Monday night
as Cinnamon."
   Oh.
   Dana froze for a second.  She hadn't told
Mulder her reasons for calling.  He wouldn't be in
her arms until she told him why.  But somehow, after
this little flirtation, suddenly Dana wasn't so 
scared to tell him after all.  He might actually get
a kick out of it.
   "All right, Mulder," she said.  "I hope you're 
prepared."
   "I'm always prepared," Mulder replied, with a strong
hint of innuendo.  
   Dana grinned impishly.  
   "Anyway," she began, "I called you as Cinnamon
because of what happened at work, actually.  I didn't
have plans for anything after work, and I didn't
dress like that for the hell of it.  To be honest,
Mulder, I was tired of playing these little games
with you and I wanted to be as bold and as brazen as I
felt I could be.  So I went out, bought that suit, and
braved the looks, the stares, and the gossip, to 
tempt you into finally doing something about that
incredible tension between us."
   "You...you dressed like that for me?"  Mulder seemed
amazed at the prospect.
   "Only for you, Mulder.  I spent four hundred dollars
on a suit for you, to show you how much I wanted you.
If you had taken me on your desk without asking, I 
wouldn't have minded."  She smiled again.
   "Damn...." Mulder's voice was a whisper.  "Can we hit
rewind on the calendar?"
   Dana giggled again.  "I was doing all I could to get
you out of that chair and into my arms, Mulder.  It was
the only way I knew how, without putting my heart on
the line."
   Mulder said nothing for several seconds.  Apparently
he was lost in thought.  "And so that's why you called
me that night," he concluded.  "To find out if I really
did want you, if I really had reacted to your little
plan that day."
   Dana closed her eyes, nodding, even though she knew
he couldn't see her.  "Yes," she said.  "And...to grant
myself the previously, as-of-yet unknown luxury of hearing
a very desirable Mr. Fox Mulder in sexual pursuit."
   "Ahhhh...." Mulder's voice indicated that he was
enlightened and educated by her admission.  "Well now that
you put it that way..."
   "What way?" she wanted to know.
   "That way," he said.  "Now that I know your reasons, now
that I know you weren't acting out of some cruel joke or
desire to humiliate me, I guess we can forgive each other
our petty grievances."
   "Well...." she said.  "Almost."
   "What do you mean?" he wanted to know.
   A wide grin crept across Dana's classic features.  "I want
to know why you, Fox Mulder, conspired with licentious intent
to telephone a certain Dana Scully tonight, under an
assumed name of Mandrake."
   He laughed.  "Well, I figured, what's good for the
goose is certainly good for the gander."
   Again, Dana could not prevent the loud giggle from
surfacing.
   "I give as good as I get," he stated flatly.  "And
paybacks are a bitch, aren't they?"
   She nodded.  "Most definitely."
   Suddenly she thought of something...something he 
hadn't told her.  "Mulder, I have another question."
   "Shoot."
   "How...how did you find out I was Cinnamon?" she 
asked him.  "I used a different voice; I even used
a different sort of vocabulary.  How did you find out?"
   Mulder laughed incredibly loud, so loudly that Dana
had to hold the phone away from her ear.  "Scully, all
that training at Quantico, all the years you've been
in the field, and you can't even guess?"
   "Well..." Dana frowned.  "No."
   "Easy," he said.  "I did what any intelligent federal
agent would do."
   "And what was that?"
   Mulder chuckled again.  "I had the Bureau trace your
call."
   Dana blushed a vivid red as she fought to contain
a very unladylike sniggle. 
   "So do you think you learned your lesson, little
girl?" Mulder said to her.
   "Oh, I definitely learned my lesson, sir," she
replied ingenuously.
   "Will you do it again?" he wanted to know.
   "Oh yes," she said.  "You can count on my being
an obsessive repeat offender."
   "Good," he said hopefully.  "I look forward to it."
   Dana's smile was enormous in response to Mulder's
statement.
   "But," he said, "if I am to grant you pardon for
every offense, you must reserve these crimes exclusively
for me."
   Dana nodded again.  "I wouldn't dream of it otherwise,
sir."
   Mulder chuckled.
   "But you have to promise me something," she said.  "No
more 900 numbers.  Those things can get you into trouble."
She grinned again.
   "Damned if I don't know," Mulder remarked.
   Judging by his comment, Dana supposed he did understand.
   "But," Mulder interjected, "I can still keep my video
collection, right?"
   "You're incorrigible, Mulder."
   "I know, but you like that in me."
   "I suppose."  Dana's eyes were bright with immeasurable
happiness.  "Mulder, you can keep your videos if you like,
but you should know something first."
   "What's that?"
   "Between work and my attentions, you won't have much
time to watch them anyway."
   "I'm counting on it," he said, his voice again tinged
with the promise of sensual delight.  
   And then silence for seconds.  For moments.  For what
seemed like eternities.
   After a few more uncomfortable seconds, Dana 
attempted to break the ice.  "So...."  
   "So...."
   "So what do we do now?"
   "Well," Mulder said, "it's 10:13 on a Friday night, and
everyone in the world is out pursuing their selfish pleasures.
Everyone except us, that is."
   "Mhm," Dana agreed, running a hand through her nearly-dry
auburn locks.  "And what do you suppose we do about it?"
   She could almost see the grin on Mulder's face as he
replied to her question.  "I say we stay in and pursue our
own selfish pleasures."
   Dana inhaled a sharp breath.  "Oh...." she whispered.
   "But first..." he said.  "But first we play a game."
   "A game?"  What was he getting at?  He had just made
an incredibly overt sexual proposition to her, one she
was ready to accept in a second's notice, and all of a
sudden he wanted to play a game?  What was wrong with 
him?
   "Yeah," Mulder grunted in response.  "Go to your
window and look up at the sky."
   "Why?" she said.
   "You'll find out," he said.  "Just do it."
   "Okay, Mulder," she sighed resignedly, walking over
to the window. 
   "Nah-ah." Mulder chided her as if she were a
delinquent child.  "Spooky didn't say."
   "What!?"  Dana exclaimed, rolling her eyes.  "Mulder,
what are you trying to pull here?"
   "I'm not trying to pull anything, Scully, I just
want to play a game."
   "Mulder, we're not in kindergarten,"  she muttered.
"And I don't know about you, but right now I am
far from having childish thoughts about you."
   "Same here," Mulder said, "which is all the more
reason to play this game."
   "What game?!?" a frustrated Dana yelled into the
phone.
   Her question was met with a sinister chuckle.  A
very sinister chuckle.  And then a very sensual
reply.  "Spooky Says, Dana.  Spooky Says."

    Source: geocities.com/solofbi