From: Isabel Izenthe 
Date: 2 Dec 1998 06:23:43 -0800
Subject: NEW: The Other Woman (1/1) by Izzy Izenthe

THE OTHER WOMAN

Author: Isabel "Izzy" Izenthe (izzy_izenthe@yahoo.com)
Archive: Anywhere
Rating: NC-17 (MSR)
Classification: VR
Spoilers: "Drive" and "Triangle" 
Disclaimer: Characters from the "X-Files" are the property of
1013 Productions and the Fox Television Network. 

This story is dedicated to my long-time friend and benefactor who
wanted just one thing for Christmas.  

* * *

His lies sounded like poetry when groaned in the meter of sex. 
"No one else.  Only you, Scully.  Only you." 

Everything about the evening had been perfect, meticulously
planned, lit by firelight and candles, scented with wine and
freshly laundered sheets.   Silk flowed over her body like cream
as she led him from front door to dinner table and from there to
her bedroom.  And when the time came to undress her, his inertia
wasn't from lack of desire, but because he feared his clumsy
hands would mar her flawless skin or muss the purposeful tangles
of her hair.  Mulder stood and watched as she pushed one narrow
strap from her shoulder, then he obediently kissed the skin she'd
laid bare for him.  Another strap, another kiss, and he followed
behind the fabric as she slipped it over her right breast, then
her left, her stomach, her hips, her legs and feet.

This was real, not the tease of a familiar dream.  His dreams
didn't know how her taste on his tongue would mix with the waxy
flavor of her lipstick when he brought her back to lucidity with
kisses. He'd pushed himself inside her body in a thousand
fantasies, but he'd never felt her fingers kneading his ass,
didn't know her eyes got bluer with every orgasm, he'd not
imagined the music she could make with gasps and insensate words.

In the euphoria of release, he'd given the beauty in his arms a
promise of fidelity, a sugar candy vow that melted with his
memories of the other woman.

He'd met her in Idaho, this other woman, on the afternoon of
the third brain-numbing day of fertilizer inspections.  The note
on the door informed would-be visitors and thieves that the
farmer and his family were in Montana until Tuesday.  Mulder had
nearly finished his tour of the barn when she appeared, stepping
from the shadows into a stripe of sunlight.  Gorgeous.
Half-naked.  She pressed a finger to his lips, evoking his
promise that there would be no questions.  Fine by him since his
vocabulary had fallen apart like an upset Scrabble board.  She
lifted his hands and pressed them to her breasts, instructing his
fingers with hers to peel her bra down until her nipples were
resting on pillows of wrinkled white satin. Beyond that, there
had been no gentle preliminaries, just bruising kisses and
groping hands.  She stepped out of her panties and knelt on all
fours, pushing her ass toward him like a rutting animal.  He
fucked her from behind while the horses watched.

When he returned to the car, he found Scully carefully mapping
out their route to the next farm, checking and rechecking mileage
figures on a handheld calculator.  He didn't talk about the other
woman, but he did pick a piece of hay out of his partner's hair.

He and Scully spent two more days in Idaho, and though he looked
for her everywhere, the other woman didn't return.  It was just
as well, he figured. Mulder wasn't fool enough to forfeit the
serious, articulate scientist he'd come to love in favor of a
woman who rasped out obscene instructions for exactly how she
wanted to be fucked, no matter how enticing she might have seemed
on the surface. The spontaneous bump and grind in the barn had
been an interesting diversion.  The other woman had cured his
melancholy, sparked his enthusiasm for a mundane assignment by
turning it into a game of hide and seek, but he would have been
content to leave her in Idaho.

She followed him to California.

There weren't words sufficient to describe the horror of his
cross-country road trip with Patrick Crump.  Fortunately, words
had been unnecessary with Scully there to shield him.  With the
authority of a drill sergeant she seized control of the scene,
barked her orders and dared anyone to challenge, dispatched the
merely curious and negotiated for time from those with a
legitimate reason to talk to her partner. With the tender
patience of a lifetime companion, she coaxed Mulder from his
numb, seaside vigil and drove with deliberate slowness to a
comfortable hotel.  She would be nearby, she assured him, but
Scully knew him well enough to sense his need for solitude.

The other woman had no such insight.  She just presumed she would
be welcome in his shower, that he would not fight the hands that
bathed him, that he wouldn't resist her warm, wet body.  She had
the audacity to think her mouth on his cock would so blind him
with pleasure that for a few minutes he would forget the  blood
that splattered color across his consciousness.  So brazen was
she that she seemed to expect it when he picked her up, slammed
her against the tile, and drove into her with his body and his
madness until she'd absorbed all she could of both.  With her
tongue she stole a declaration of love from his mouth, even
though the sentiment wasn't supposed to belong to her.

Afterwards, guilt drove him to Scully's door.  He would have
talked to her then about the other woman, but the noise of her
hair dryer obscured the sound of his knocking.

They'd been home less than a day when an anomalous blip on a
radar screen cried out to him like siren song. He'd been running
away from Scully more than running to anything; the Queen Anne
was a convenient alibi for cowardice.  He'd shut his eyes to the
storm and the saltwater spray and made a silly, childlike wish
that hers would be the face he saw when he opened his eyes again. 
If given the chance, he promised to no one in particular, he
would tell Dana Scully exactly how he felt.

When he kept that promise in a North Carolina hospital room, his
partner seemed wholly unimpressed, but someone else had been
eavesdropping with an open heart.  Scully dutifully adhered to
visiting hour rules and left at nine o'clock.  The other woman
donned a pair of blue scrubs over nothing at all and slipped into
his room at midnight.  She slowed the pace in deference to his
bruises, but sacrificed none of the intensity of their other
encounters.  If anything, she was more desperate for him now and
this time her coarse language was tempered with endearments.  

Mulder's love for Scully had been built on years of shared
experiences, had been reached on stair steps of trust, yet as
much as he'd grown to love his partner, he loved this woman he'd
so recently met.  He shared with her the same words he'd offered
Scully, and this woman returned them with a passion.

Any man would consider himself blessed to have either woman. 
Mulder, selfish bastard that he was, wanted both.  The other
woman had been willing to share him, but he wasn't certain Scully
would be as obliging, especially now that he'd spent the night
making love to her in her bed.  

He was sure something, some tension in his arms, some message in
the aimless patterns he was tracing over her belly, had revealed
the anxiety he'd tried to hide because she sounded worried when
she asked, "Did you like it better before?  The way it was in the
barn?"

He recognized in her troubled expression that this wasn't a new
fear.  All the time he'd been grunting under the weight of his
questions, she'd been carrying the same burden on stronger
shoulders.  And here the answer was, so ridiculously simple it
took him by surprise.  "Scully, I love both the women you are."

She smiled then, the faint upturn of lips that on his partner was
equal to a toothsome grin, and rubbed her body against his like
the wanton he'd met in Idaho.  "Who said there were only two?"

* * *


Special thanks to my editors (names withheld to protect their
delusions of innocence).  This wouldn't be any fun without you
guys.

Your feedback would be very appreciated at
izzy_izenthe@yahoo.com.

Isabel "Izzy" Izenthe
"Please leave your values at the front desk."
                  -In a Paris Hotel Elevator
Text file Source (historic): geocities.com/xfanfic1013/stories/erotica

geocities.com/xfanfic1013/stories
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