"The Seducer"
By Dawson E. Rambo

Archivists Please Note : This version REPLACES any existing version of
a story called "The Seducer," by me. I request that you delete any
preexisting copies of this story and use this one instead.

Semi-Standard Disclaimer : Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and
any other tangentially mentioned characters created by Christ Carter
remain his copyrighted property and the property of 1013 Productions
and of Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All Rights
Reserved, and no infringement is intended. Characters created by
the author remain his property.


Original Posting:  September 17, 1997
Classification  :  MSR
Feedback        :  Please. Address is drambo@sonic.net
Missing Chapters:  http://www.sonic.net/~drambo/index.html 
Historical Note :  This is a rewrite of a story that was variously
                   posted as "The XXX-Files" on alt.sex.stories
                   under another name, and as "The Seducer" to
                   alt.tv.x-files.creative in 1994. This is a
                   complete rewrite of that story. The basic outline
                   of the story has been maintained.
Rating          :  NC-17 (No kidding, folks)
Timeline        :  This takes place shortly after "Small Potatoes" in
                   a universe where US4 "Momento Mori" and all
                   associated issues never occurred. Also, the US4
                   episode "Never Again", in the context of this
                   story should be renamed "Never Happened," as
                   the events depicted in that story, in the context
                   of this story, did not happen.
                   (As Mel Brooks said, "It's nice to be the king.")
Spoilers        :  Terma, Pusher, Irresistible, Small Potatoes
                   EBE, End Game, War of the Corphrages & Tooms
                   (Otherwise known as the Shipper Perfecta)
                   Fallen Angel (One measly line)
                   Pilot (Again, one measly line)

El Mucho Grande Content Warning : Those of you that have read the
previous version of this story (written in 1994,) may remember the
basic outline of this story; the two key plot elements have not
changed. Much of the rest, however, has changed. This story deals with
adult sexual and sexual-legal matters in a frank, explicit manner.
Reader discretion is HIGHLY recommended.

*** WARNING
*** WARNING
*** WARNING
*** Did you read the El Mucho Grande Content Warning above? If not,
*** READ IT!


-1-

	"The difference between rape and ecstasy is salesmanship."
		- Lord Thompson of the Fleet 		
		  Canadian Publisher


J. Edgar Hoover Building,
Washington, DC

        Dammit.
        He was doing it again, Scully thought.
        She fought the urge to spin on him and forcibly push him back.
Two hands, planted directly in the center of his chest and a hard
shove might get her message across, but the fact of the matter was
that Special Agent Dana Scully didn't know exactly which message she
wanted to send. If she did spin on her partner, if she did plant both
her hands in the middle of his broad, tightly muscled chest, she
wasn't sure she'd be able to push. Indeed, she wasn't sure that once
she did touch his chest like that, in a way she'd only wondered about,
that instead of pushing she would curl her fingers in the fabric of
his shirt and draw Mulder closer.
        And that was what was so damn annoying.
        Having Mulder in her space like that was <the> single most
annoying, confounding, exciting, arousing, distracting feeling Scully
could ever imagine. He was close enough to touch, to feel, to smell.
She could detect him, like some kind of perfume, just below the
surface of the everyday. His unique scene, his Mulderessance, as she
privately called it, was tickling her nose and driving her nuts.
        Mulder, she reminded herself, had long ago been filed under
"Partner: Do Not Touch." It had been a difficult struggle at first, and
there had been a few times over the years when she had been tempted to
go to that private filing cabinet in her mind and move the Mulder
folder from the Do Not Touch drawer straight to the Screw It, Let's Do
It folder without a glance back.
        Pfaster had been one time. Modell another. After leaving the
hospital, hand in hand, Scully was convinced that this was going to be
It. That finally, they would cross that invisible line between
friends, partners...and something more. Part of her welcomed it. Part
of her was scared shitless.
        But they hadn't. She had taken him home, put him to bed (as
much as you could for someone that slept on a couch every night,) and
the next day they had both forgotten the tense, bowstring-tight
emotions that had been running between them like an electric
current the day before.
        And recently, after Mulder's return from Russia, Scully had
again been sure that he was going to take her home and make made,
sweet, passionate love to her for the night and every night
thereafter. She had wanted it. She had welcomed it. And when he hadn't
made a move towards her except that incredibly arousing public hug in
front of the Senate Foreign Intelligence Oversight Board, she had
chalked it up to professionalism.
        Scully knew that Mulder found her attractive. She had only to
look into his eyes during one of his trademark leers to see that. She
had only to feel the way he touched her when he managed to do so
without ripping her clothes off. She had only to see how he ached to
do is just as much as she did. So it was something else, then,
something that they had both agreed on many years ago, an agreement
that had been sealed without a single word being spoken.
        An agreement she had been ready to break when that
shape-shifting GEEK had appeared on her doorstep, a bottle of wine in
one hand and that goofy, disarming smile in the other. She should have
known, she chastised herself. He may have looked like Mulder, walked
and talked and sounded like Mulder, but wasn't Mulder, and she should
have known. He'd been attentive, interested. He'd listened to her, not
just about work things, but about life. He'd asked pointed,
intelligent questions that showed he'd been listening. And that was
just not Mulder, no matter how much she wished it were.
        And God, Scully thought, I am so thankful to You that You
managed to get Mulder to me before anything happened. I couldn't face
him, I couldn't deal with it if Mulder had arrived two seconds later.
        "Scully?"
        "Hmm?"
        "What are you thinking?"
        "Hmm?"
        "Scully!"
        She started. "What?"
        "I asked you a question, and you gave me this dreamy 'Hmmm'
answer that makes no sense in the context of this discussion. I asked
you what you were thinking about."
        About how much I would like to-
        "Well, the protein sequences are similar to things we've seen
before, but there are differences subtle enough to differentiate it
from the sample that we used to have. So, to answer your question,
Mulder, I don't think that what we're seeing is an example of the
retrovirus you contracted up on the ice, but it is similar enough to
warrant further investigation."
        Mulder closed the folder he was holding and nodded. "My
thoughts exactly. I agree completely."
        WHAT?!
        "But," he said, reopening the folder, "I do think..."
        That's better, Scully thought. For a moment there I was going
to have to re-arrest Eddie VanBlundHt.
        "What, Mulder? What do you think?"
        He paused and looked over the top of the folder at her. "I
think...that you look especially lovely today, Scully."
        Scully blinked and cocked her head. Had he just said-?
        "Excuse me?"
        His eyes darkened and he snapped the file closed again,
retreating behind his desk, putting the familiar and comfortable
wooden bulk between them again. "Nothing. Forget it."
        Scully sat behind her "desk," nothing more than a cleared
worktable really, and wondered how to handle this latest development.
A compliment, out in the open, not filtered through the electrostatic
hiss of a cellphone, ("What are you wearing, Scully?") not tossed
off as a counter-remark to something someone else said ("I think it's
remotely plausible that someone might think you're hot,"), not a ice-
breaking, nerves-soothing little ditty in the middle of a stakeout
("If it's iced tea, it could be love, Scully,") but an actual naked,
full-frontal compliment about her as a woman.
        Well, Scully mused, several avenues of reply here. First, I
could thank him warmly and let him know that his compliment just sent
a shiver of pleasure and surprise down to my toes and back. B, I could
be gently reproachful and remind him that partners don't do and say
such things. Three, I could just remain silent and enigmatic. D, I
could return the compliment. Or, I could say something pithy and
innocent to defuse the situation. Something like "You like it? I just
bought it."
        Which was, of course, a bold-faced lie.
        In the end, Scully was saved by the bell.
        Literally.
        Her phone rang.
        Lifting it, she answered, "Scully."
        "Agent Scully, I trust your day is going well." Skinner.
        "Yes, sir."
        "Would you and Agent Mulder be available to join me in my
office?"
        "Right away, sir."
        She hung up. "Skinner," she explained. "Requesting a Royal
Audience."
        "Ooooh, Princess Scully," Mulder teased, reaching for his
jacket.
        That's two, Scully thought. In two minutes.
        They exited the office and headed for the elevator, close
enough to brush arms every few steps.
        Neither moved away.
        In the elevator on the way up, Mulder leaned down, close
enough to tickle her ear with his breath and whispered, "You're gonna
knock him dead, looking like that."
        Three, Scully thought.
        "Mulder, what is going on?"
        He straightened. "Sorry. Forget I said anything."
        Crossing her arms, she turned to face her partner. "No,
Mulder, I'm not going to forget it. I want to know why you've paid me
three compliments about my appearance in the last five minutes."
        "Well, technically, the princess comment wasn't about how you
look today."
        He could tell by the sudden set of her jaw that it was the
wrong thing to say. He backpedaled. "Scully, just forget it, ok?
I'm... in a strange mood."
        "That much is obvious."
        "Are you angry?"
        He had the good grace not to trot out the whipped-puppy
expression at this point, probably the only thing that saved him. "No,
Mulder, I'm not angry. Just curious."
        "Me, too," he said, waggling his eyebrows, his intention
unmistakable.
        "Mulder..." Scully warned. "After this meeting with Skinner,
you and I are going to have a few words together."
        He mumbled something, as the doors opened, and it took four or
five steps for Scully's natural audio filters to process it. "As long
as they're dirty," was what he had said. She faltered, clenching her
jaw. Something was going on.
        Skinner was waiting for them, several case folders on his
desk. Scully tried to hide the groan she felt welling up inside her.
Something big was coming down.
        "Scully, Mulder, please...have a seat."
        The two agents took their accustomed positions, both of them
glancing around to see if anyone else was in the room.
        "This is a strange set of circumstances," Skinner began.
"These cases originally came to the Bureau's attention as reports of
kidnapping. Six cases in the last two months, all in the same basic
geographic area. What makes them X-Files is the fact that in all six
cases the victims were returned...basically unharmed, and that each
victim has declined to cooperate with our investigations."
        "Stockholm Syndrome?" Scully proposed.
        Skinner shook his head. "No, Agent Scully, I don't think so,
although that is a good hypothesis. Something else is going on here,
which I think will be clear once you read the case files." Skinner
held out two folders. Each agent took one. Opening them, they began
reading.
        Scully figured it out first. "Were all the women sexually
abused?"
        "That's our term for it, Agent Scully. You will notice that
each victim, although showing signs of sexual intercourse, refused to
categorize it as rape or abuse."
        Scully nodded. "That is odd."
        Mulder was reading deeper into the case file. "It says here,"
he said, pointing at a specific line on the page, "that each women met
a man in a bar, and that within minutes the man had 'seduced' them and
taken them to a motel or hotel nearby for sexual intercourse."
        Skinner nodded.
        "Ruhipnol Rape?" Scully said, and then twitched. Memories of
that case came flooding back, and none of them were welcome.
        Mulder glanced at her and knew in an instant what she was
thinking.
        Very quietly, Skinner said, "I checked. That particular...
person is still behind bars."
        There was a long moment of silence.
        "No," Mulder said after a moment, "two of the victims hadn't
even ordered a drink yet, so there would be no delivery method. They
claim that the man...just touched them."
        Scully raised her eyebrows. "That's one hell of a touch."
        Skinner's expression darkened. The flippant remark was totally
unlike his favorite agent. "Scully-"
        "I'm sorry, sir. This case is...very strange."
        "I'm aware of that. That's why you and Agent Mulder will be
flying to White Plains, New York for this assignment."
        Mulder flipped to the last page of his folder. An artist's
sketch peered back at him. Kinda plain looking, Mulder thought. Not
what I'd expect.
        "There is additional information that you need to be made
aware of," Skinner said, reaching for another folder. "The New York
press has gotten wind of this case, and I have been informed that they
will be running a page 1 story tomorrow regarding the case." He
paused. "They have nicknamed our suspect 'The Seducer.'"
        "Oh, great," Scully mumbled.
        "Yes, Agent Scully, exactly. Since there will be so much press
attention, I want you two to proceed publicly as if this were a
straightforward kidnapping/sexual assault investigation. You are to
refrain from any and all press contact. When unavoidable, you will
state to the press the official Bureau policy on this matter. At no
time are you to delve into the...paranormal aspects of this case. Is
that clear?"
        "Yes, sir," both agents said.
        "You are dismissed. You leave in the morning. Abby has your
tickets."

-2-

		"Sex, unlike justice, should not be seen
		 to be done."
- Evelyn Laye
British actress, singer


The Next Morning

	

        After crossing the Whitestone Bridge in their rental car,
Mulder took the Hutchinson River Parkway north into Westchester
County, passing by Pelham, New Rochelle, Mamaroneck, Larchmont,
Eastchester until finally exiting into White Plains proper.
        "The good part is, " he said quietly, "no fleabag motel. This
is the big city, Scully. Hilton Hotel."
        "Mmm," Scully said, lost in the case file.
        "What's so interesting in the case folder, Scully?"
        She closed it, disbelief written over her face. "You have to
ask? Mulder, a man that can seduce with a single touch? You don't find
that...interesting?"
        He glanced at her, wry humor etched across his features. "You
honestly believe that a man can seduce a woman with a single touch?
You, Scully? That sounds like something more suited to my set of
beliefs."
        Depends on the man, Scully thought, and then pushed that
thought aside.
        "Well, what do you think happened?"
        "The New York City metropolitan area, of which Westchester
County is sometimes included, consists of over twelve million people,
Scully. I think that six cases of wives going off for a couple of days
of pleasure with some stranger doesn't constitute an X-file. I think
it's just business as normal in the big city."
        Scully frowned. "Let me get this straight, just so I
understand. On this one, I'm the believer and you're the skeptic?"
        He shrugged. "Looks that way."
        Scully sat back against the window. "Again, just so I'm clear.
You believe in aliens, in alien abductions, in shape-shifting morphing
bounty hunters, that the government, in fact, all the world's
governments are engaged in a conspiracy to hide that fact from the
people, and you can't believe that there exists a ... creature that
can seduce with a touch?"
        Mulder considered her teasing tone. "Scully, I will admit that
the idea is possible. Just not plausible."
        Scully shook her head. "This is going to be an interesting
case."
        Mulder smiled. "Besides, although we have been assigned to
this, I don't believe that this is an X-file. I think there is a
perfectly rational, scientific explanation for this entire affair, if
you'll pardon the expression."
        Scully laughed. "Oh, this should be good. Lay it on me, Dr.
Wizard."
        "Pheromones."
        "Excuse me?"
        "You do know what they are?"
        "Yes, of course, Mulder. Are you telling me that this man
gives off pheromones in such huge quantities that the women have no
choice but to become sexually aroused?"
        Mulder shrugged. "It's a possibility."
        Scully nodded. "Possible," she mumbled. "But not probable."
        "Touche, Scully."

-3-

	
		"If men knew all that women think,
		 they'd be twenty times more daring."
			- Alphonse Karr
			  French Novelist, journalist


Home of Iris & Walter Smith

        Mulder glanced at the address written in the case folder one
last time. "This is the place," he said.
        Scully nodded and released her seatbelt, opened the door and
climbed out. Mulder walked around the front of the car and together,
they ascended the short cement staircase leading to the front door.
        They rang the bell.
        A moment later, a thirty-ish woman answered the door wearing
an apron. She had flour in her hair, and a small white smudge on her
cheek.
        "Yes?"
        "I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI," Mulder said, flashing his
credentials in her face. "This is my partner, Special Agent Scully.
Are you Iris Smith?"
        "Yes," she nodded.
        "We'd like to ask you a few questions about your recent...
experience."
        "You mean The Seducer," Iris said, resignedly.
        Mulder nodded. "Can we come in?"
        Iris sighed and held the door open. Mulder and Scully entered
the house, glancing around, taking everything in. The house looked
like a television set, so perfect was the design of "White, Suburban
America." A sunken living room, complete with a stone-hearth
fireplace, a big-screen Sony XBR Trinitron, and a sectional L-shaped
couch. There were several golf trophies on a bookshelf, right beneath
two awards from the Betty Crocker Bake-off. Mulder squinted and saw
that they were for something called "Mango-Kiwi Swirl Brownies." He
shuddered.
        Scully took lead on the interview.
        "Mrs. Smith, I'm sure this is difficult to talk about," she
said, turning to face Iris.
        "No," she said. "Not at all. Please, have a seat. I'll be back
in a moment."
        Scully turned back to her partner and shrugged. They moved to
the sectional couch and sat.
        "Did you see her bracelet?" Mulder whispered. Scully shook her
head. At that moment, Iris Smith returned carrying a tray on which
were perched a coffee urn, three mugs, and small sugar and milk
decanters.
        "Coffee?" she asked brightly. As she put the tray down, Scully
took the opportunity to glance at her wrists. Around her left wrist
was a sterling silver bracelet with some kind of design that Scully
couldn't make out. The importance of the bracelet was lost on her, and
she shot a combination of arched eyebrow and shrug at Mulder.
        'Later,' he mouthed and she nodded.
        Scully took her notebook from her inside jacket pocket. "Mrs.
Smith, I know that you gave your statement to the police after your
return, and shortly after that to the FBI agents investigating your
kidnapping, but I'd appreciate it-"
        "I wasn't kidnapped," Iris said quickly. "I went willingly. I
wish you people would understand that."
        Scully nodded. "I understand that your statement was that this
man seduced you by his touch?"
        Iris nodded. "That's correct. I work two days a week as a
volunteer at the St. Agnes library. I decided to stop after work and
have a drink. He came up to me five minutes after I'd sat down, before
my drink had even arrived. We started talking. He told a joke. I laughed.
He touched my arm." She paused, her eyes cloudy with memory. "And that
was it, Miss Scully. I was as sexually aroused as I have ever been in
my entire life."
        Reaching down to the coffee table, Iris grabbed the urn and
held it aloft. "Coffee?"
        "Please," Scully said slowly, glancing at her partner.
        Iris poured three cups. Replacing the urn, she grabbed the
sugar and looked a question at Scully. "Cream only, please."
        "Mr. Mulder?"
        "Black," Mulder said, reaching for his mug. Iris splashed a
dollop of cream into Scully's mug and handed it to her.
        "Thank you," Scully said after taking a sip. It was a rich,
dark blend of Kona and Colombian, she thought. Extremely good.
Extremely expensive.
        "If I may ask, what does your husband do for a living?" Mulder
asked.
        "He's a scientist. A researcher."
        "In what, if I may ask?"
        Iris shook her head. "I'm sorry, most of what Walter does is
above my head. I'm just a simple homemaker."
        "Chemistry? Biology? Plastics?" Mulder prodded.
        Iris sighed, visibly annoyed. "He's a research fellow at IBM.
In Peekskill."
        "Computers," Mulder finished.
        "No. Something else. Something...confidential."
        Mulder nodded and glanced at Scully.
        "So," Scully said, picking up the interrogation. "What
happened after that?"
        Iris sipped her coffee and thought. "We went to a motel
downtown. He already had a room. Once we were inside, we proceeded to
make love."
        She took another sip, apparently finished with recounting the
story.
        "For how long?" Scully asked.
        "That time?"
        "Er, no. In total."
        Iris thought about it. "Four days and nights, Agent Scully."
        "Continuously?" Scully asked.
        Iris tittered. "No, of course not. He's not a superman. We
made love...oh, I'd say...six or seven times a day for those four days
and nights."
        "Thirty times?" Scully asked, disbelief all over her face.
        "Well, yes, but..."
        Scully waited for the woman to finish, leaning forward to show
her interest.
        "...you see, not all of that time was spent...actually having
intercourse. Sometimes we...did other things."
        Neither partner said a word.
        "You know...sex things."
        Yes, Mulder thought, I know what you mean. Sex things.
        "I'm sure this is uncomfortable, Mrs. Smith, but if you could
be more specific, it might help our investigation."
        Iris nodded. "It's not embarrassing, Agent Scully. Truth be
told, it's kind of arousing."
        Scully had no answer for this. She sat back, crossing her
legs, waiting for Iris to continue.
        "Sometimes we had oral sex. Sometimes we just...played with
each other. But most of the time we had intercourse. He had incredible
staying power. He could go for hours."
        "Hours?" Scully asked again.
        "Yes," Iris nodded. "hours."
        Scully leaned forward. "Weren't you sore?"
        Mulder's eyebrows popped up. He bit his tongue.
        Iris regarded Scully calmly across the coffee table. "No,
Agent Scully, I was not sore. I was incredibly wet."
        "I see," Scully said softly, nodding to herself.
        "How long have you had that bracelet?" Mulder suddenly asked.
        Iris glanced at him, her eyes flicking to his face. "Do you
like it?"
        Mulder nodded.
        "Are you aware of it's significance?"
        Mulder nodded again. "That's why I asked. Did you get it
before...or after the incident?"
        Iris pursed her lips, and Mulder was sure she wasn't going to
answer. "Four years, Agent Mulder."
        Mulder nodded. Scully glanced a silent question at him and he
shook his head slightly. Not now, his eyes said.
        Turning her attention back to Iris, Scully continued. "Mrs.
Smith, we got the impression from your statement to the police that
not only do you not consider this case kidnapping, but that you also
do not consider this...situation to be rape."
        "That's correct, Agent Scully. I went willingly. How can it be
rape if I wanted it to happen?"
        Scully smiled. "Mrs. Smith, if the...man somehow decreased
your ability to give consent, then, legally, it is rape."
        "I don't understand."
        "The legal principal of rape is based on the concept of
consent. In order for rape to have occurred, you had to either be
unable or unwilling to give your consent. Unable to give consent can
also translate to not capable of giving legal consent because of
intoxication, altered mental state, or being underage."
        Iris nodded. "I see. Because this man touched me, you think
that he somehow removed my ability to give legal consent?"
        Scully nodded. "That is exactly what I'm saying, Ma'am."
        Iris shook her head. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully, but I disagree
with you. Only in that I was unable to give my consent. I didn't feel
drugged, I was in full possession of my mental faculties. I was fully
aware of what I was doing. I wanted to do it."
        Scully probed deeper. "If I may ask, Mrs. Smith, have you ever
done anything like this before?"
        Iris' eyes flicked back to Mulder. "Perhaps you should ask
your partner."
        Scully's jaw dropped. "Did you know my partner before this
morning?" she asked.
        "No, but your partner said that he understands the
significance of my bracelet."
        Scully turned to Mulder.
        "It's a slave bracelet," he said softly. Iris nodded.
        "Slave?" Scully asked.
        "Sexual slave. The wearer of the bracelet is considered a
submissive sexual slave to the person...the owner...that gave it to
her. Normally, it's worn on the ankle so that the...slave can go
through day-to-day life without having to explain it to other people.
It's welded on; she can't remove it."
        Scully glanced back at Iris, her eyes zooming in on the
bracelet.
        "If I may ask, who-"
        "My husband."
        "So you are-"
        "His slave."
        Mulder spoke. "It's not as horrible as it sounds, Scully. Most
of the time, it's just play-acting. It's a way for one partner to give
control to the other, a way of expressing trust."
        Iris nodded. "You <do> understand."
        "I understand about trust," Mulder said simply.
        "That doesn't answer my question," Scully pointed out.
        "Many wife-swappers and swingers use the bracelets as
ornamental shorthand."
        "What's the difference? Between a wife-swapper and a swinger?"
        Mulder continued his lecture, seemingly unaffected by the
subject matter. "Not much, but generally, wife-swapping scenes are
limited to one or two women. Swinging can be...a bit more involved.
They're both terms for the same thing; an open relationship."
        Scully didn't want to know why Mulder was so "up" on this
particular sexual lifestyle.
        "So, you've had affairs," Scully asked Iris.
        Iris shook her head. "You don't understand, Agent Scully. It's
only an affair if my husband doesn't know about it, or there's an
emotional connection aside from the physical one."
        "Was there an emotional connection in this case?"
        "Oh, my, yes," Iris said, blushing. "I would love to see him
again."
        "Why on Earth-?" Scully asked, her eyes wide.
        "Miss Scully, have you ever been completely sexually satisfied
in every single way for four days straight?"
        "Excuse me, where's the bathroom?" Mulder asked.
        "Through the kitchen. Last door on the left."
        Mulder stood and excused himself, leaving Scully and Iris
alone. This, he told himself, was not something he needed to hear.
Especially about Scully.
        "Well?" Iris asked, after Mulder had left.
        "My...sex life is not at issue here," Scully started.
        "Miss Scully, please answer the question."
        Scully laughed, a short little bark of exasperation. "Mrs.
Smith, don't you understand what has happened here? This man somehow
managed to alter your biochemistry, and reduced your capacity to
control inhibitions."
        "Miss Scully, my inhibitions were already quite lowered. I let
my husband offer me to other men for sex."
        Scully sat back, fighting for control of the interview.
        "Outside the scope of this investigation, what you do is your
business. There is nothing...illegal about...open marriages."
        Iris nodded. "I get it. It may not be illegal, but you
consider it immoral. You think I'm a slut."
        Scully shook her head. "No, I don't. It's not my job to make
moral judgements, Mrs. Smith." I'll leave that to God, she thought.
        Iris leaned forward. "Miss Scully...you seem like a very nice
woman. A bit of a prude, but that's your right. Just as it is my right
to sit here now and tell you that rape did <not> occur in this case,
nor did kidnapping. Yes, I should have called my husband, and yes, he
did worry and did report me missing. But after I returned and
explained to him what had happened, he elected to withdraw the
charges."
        Scully nodded, writing in her notebook. "If I may ask, what
effect has your...experience had on your marriage?"
        Iris thought about it. "It's made it better, I think. You have
to understand, Agent Scully...my husband gets very sexually aroused,
as I do, at the thought of me having sex with other men. So this was
nothing new to him. It was just...that I was so overcome with pleasure
that I forgot to call him."
        Iris paused. "You never answered my question."
        Scully sighed. "I have no intention of answering that
question, Mrs. Smith."
        Iris smiled. "So that would be a no, then?"
        Scully felt her face flaming. Damn her!
        "No, Mrs. Smith. It is neither a yes nor a no."
        Iris nodded smugly, and leaned forward a little more. "Let me
tell you something, Agent Scully. I know that you don't think very
highly of my lifestyle choices, and that is your right. I won't hold
it against you. But until you've done what I have, you'll never
understand the freedom or the pleasure that comes from totally giving
yourself to another human being. The release of responsibility is
perhaps the single most arousing thing I can imagine. And that's all I
have to say."
        Scully stood, looking around for Mulder.
        He chose that moment to return to the living room.
        "Ready?" he asked.
        Scully nodded stiffly, not speaking.
        Mulder turned to Iris. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Smith."
His voice was kind, gentle, understanding. Iris smiled back at Mulder,
getting his message. I understand. I may not agree, but I understand.
        The partners left the Smith household and tromped down to the
car. Scully belted herself in and waited for Mulder to climb inside.
        The moment Mulder's door clicked shut, she started. "Can you
believe her?"
        Mulder shrugged, twisting the key in the ignition. "Different
strokes for different folks, Scully."
        Scully twisted in the seat, staring at her partner. "Don't
tell me you agree with her!"
        Mulder pursed his lips, thinking. "I think that something
abnormal, but not necessarily paranormal happened her. I think that in
her mind, Mrs. Smith does not believe she was raped, and since she'd
not underage, we can't legally speak for her."
        "Mulder, she was abducted!"
        "Kidnapped," Mulder corrected.
        Scully smirked. "Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe, Mulder. Remember
that?"
        He nodded, smiling, and pulled into traffic. "Ok, Scully, look
at it this way. Hypothetical situation. Legally, rape occurs when
consent is absent. Legally, consent is absent when the victim either
does not give it, or is legally incapable of giving it because of age
or diminished capacity. Agree so far?"
        Scully nodded.
        "Ok, if the victim does grant consent at the time of the act,
but later changes her mind for whatever reason, can she legally claim
rape?"
        "No, not really," Scully said. "Although it happens."
        "Of course it does. We won't go into the underlying social
reasons for that particular phenomenon, but look at the question this
way: If, in the middle of being 'raped,' the victim changes her mind
and decides that she <did> want it, is it still rape? Can you grant
consent after the fact?"
        "What, you mean being overtaken by passion? A bad romance
novel? 'No, no, you brute...oh, yes!'" Scully mocked.
        "Do that again, Scully. Just the last part."
        "In your dreams, Mulder."
        "Answer the question, then. Can you give consent after the
act? Absent diminished capacity."
        Scully shook her head. "I never could."
        "We're not talking about you specifically, Scully. We're
talking about Iris Smith and the general concept. Can you give consent
after the act?"
        "By her own admission, she gave consent."
        "But you're claiming diminished capacity, right?"
        Scully nodded. "I suppose."
        "Ok, putting aside Stockholm Syndrome, then, do you know of
any substance, drug, or liquid that could maintain diminished capacity
for four days?"
        "If he was constantly giving it to her," Scully said, and
then flushed, realizing how her words sounded.
        "Be that as it may," Mulder said dryly, "did you check her tox
results?"
        Scully reached for her briefcase. Opening it, shuffled through
the case files, locating Iris Smith's and extracting it. She flipped
to the medical records section and began reading.
        "Clean. No alcohol, no controlled substances."
        "Did they run a rape kit?"
        "Of course, Mulder. You know that, and you also know what they
found. So tell me."
        "Evidence of intercourse, but no evidence of rape. No vaginal
bruising, no defensive marks on the patient, nothing."
        "So what are you saying, Mulder?"
        "I'm saying that no rape or abduction occurred here. I'm saying
that a woman with a free and open lifestyle met a man that she
fancied, and she went to a motel for four days of making the
eight-legged naked aardvark with the aforementioned cute guy, that's
all."
        Eight-legged naked aardvarking? Scully thought. "So, what
you're saying is that nothing of any Bureau interest occurred in this
case."
        "That's correct, Scully."
        "What about the other five?"
        He shrugged. "Won't know until we talk to them, Scully."
        She nodded. At least he wasn't dismissing the possibility out
of hand. "Mulder, can I ask you a really personal question?"
        "Sure."
        "What is your opinion of date rape?'
        Mulder frowned. "Well, I think it's a bad thing, Scully. What
do you expect me to say?"
        "Well, that's not what I meant. Do you think that it occurs as
often as we're led to believe?"
        "I see where you're going. That whole 'no means yes'
argument?"
        Scully nodded.
        Mulder drove as he thought about it. "Honestly, Scully, I
think the question isn't that simple. I mean, in some cases it is.
There are some women that have been raised to believe that only sluts
or easy girls take pleasure in sex, and to say yes brands them as such
a girl. So they say no to preserve their 'reputation,' but inside,
they want the contact just as much as the man. And so, in that case,
sometimes, no means yes.
        "But as a man, the minute I hear no, I would stop."
        Scully considered his words. "Would stop. Are you telling me
that no woman has ever said no to you?"
        Mulder shifted in the driver's seat. He said nothing.
        "No one? Ever?" Scully prodded.
        Mulder said nothing.
        "Mulder. Ask me to make love with you."
        Mulder's head snapped around so quickly the car swerved with
the motion. "What?"
        "Just do it, Mulder. Ask me to make love with you."
        Mulder sighed. "Scully, would you like to make love with me?"
        Yes, she thought. "No thank you, Mulder. There. Someone has
said no to you."
        He smiled. "Didn't count, Scully."
        An arched eyebrow was followed by, "Why not?"
        "You didn't mean it."
        She smiled her best enigmatic smile. "Says who?"
        The car swerved slightly again. "Ok, then. Did that no mean
yes?"
        Scully said nothing.
        "So," Mulder finally sighed. "Where's our next...victim?"
        Scully flipped open her notebook and read off the address and
then reached for the map.
        Neither noticed the car that had been following them since
Iris Smith's house.

-4-

			"The little rift between the sexes is
			 atonishingly widened by simply teaching
			 one set of catchwords to the girls and
			 another to the boys."
				Robert Louis Stevenson


White Plains, New York
1750 Hours

        Mulder slammed the car door shut and sighed. Scully, in the
seat beside him, buckled herself in and crossed the last name off.
        "Six interviews, six non-victims," she said quietly. "What the
hell is going on here?"
        Mulder shrugged. "Aside from Iris Smith," Scully continued,
"none of the women seemed to...pursue alternate lifestyles."
        "The fourth, Alice Stern? She had a slave tattoo on her left
ankle."
        Scully twisted to look at her partner. "You know, when it came
up at the Smiths, I dismissed it. But now I'm beginning to wonder. How
the hell do you know about that lifestyle, Mulder?"
        He shrugged. "I read."
        "Apparently not the same things I am."
        Mulder said nothing.
        "Well, I think we can wrap this case up in one day. Skinner
will like that. All of our...victims, for lack of a better word,
refuse to cooperate and the suspect fits six different descriptions.
He's been variously described as being between five foot ten and six
foot two,"
        "Lifts," Mulder said.
        "...blonde or brunette-"
        "Dye or wigs,"
        "...with blue eyes, brown eyes, even green eyes-"
        "Contacts or naturally hazel, like mine,"
        Scully chose, for the moment, to ignore that. "with a beard,
mustache, and clean shaven-"
        "Could have grown it or shaved it,"
        "And four different accents."
        "Accents are easy to fake, Scully."
        "So you think it's the same man?"
        Mulder nodded. "Don't you?"
        Mulder pulled the rental car into the hotel parking lot and
slid it into an empty space in front of their rooms. "Yeah," Scully
said as Mulder killed the engine. "I do. God knows why, but I do. The
only thing that I can find that links it all together is the modus
operandi."
        Mulder nodded, getting out of the car.
        "And, with six different descriptions, the only hope we're
ever going to have of catching this guy-"
        "Mulder," Scully said, getting out on her side, "we haven't
been to the motels yet."
        Mulder shook his head. "All the rooms were paid for with cash,
six different names that come up blank in NCIC, FINEST and NYSPIN. The
guy's invisible, Scully. Forensics went over three of the six scenes.
We have less than nothing to go on. He's a shadow, a ghost. The only
we chance of getting this guy is to have a husband report a missing
wife and the local field office starts a sweep of all the motel
rooms."
        "What to do we tell them to look for?"
        Mulder considered a moment. "Any rooms paid for in cash that
were booked the day before the 'abduction,' to start. That should
narrow it down since most people use credit cards for hotel rooms."
        Scully nodded. "I'll put that in the report." She glanced at
the closed door of her room. "I'm not in the mood for room service.
Dinner?"
        Mulder considered. An intimate dinner with a beautiful woman?
Twist my arm, Scully. "Sure, just let me change."
        "Knock on my door when you're ready," Scully said, letting
herself in.
        Knock on your door? he thought. Please.
        Letting himself in, Mulder quickly lost his work clothes and
changed into a casual pair of jeans, gray T-shirt and a nice warm
sweater. Realizing that the burning in his eyes was becoming annoying,
Mulder quickly removed his contacts and switched to glasses.
Tucking his pistol into the small of his back, Mulder exited
his room and walked four steps next door and knocked.
        "Come in," Scully called.
        Mulder opened the door and stepped inside. Scully was walking
out of the bathroom, buttoning her shirt. For just a second, Mulder
caught a glance of the edge of Scully's bra. He also noticed that the
button of her jeans was undone. When she lifted her arms to button the
last button, Mulder glimpsed Scully's bellybutton.
        That simple sight, a plain, white cotton garment, worn more
for support and comfort than titillation, locked Mulder's breath in
his throat. Scully looked up and caught Mulder looking, saw where his
stare was focused and blushed.
        "Ready?" she asked.
        "Uh...yeah," Mulder stammered, looking away. "Hungry?"
        "Famished," Scully said, looking directly at him, and Mulder
had the sudden suspicion that Scully wasn't talking about food.
        "Hotel restaurant?" he asked.
        "Sure, why not. That way we can have a glass of wine or
something," Scully mumbled as she buttoned her jeans. How odd, she
thought. I've seen him naked a half a dozen times, and he's seen me at
less than my best about as many, and yet...
        And yet, catching a forbidden glance of secret skin makes him
blush like a schoolboy on his first date. It was endearing, especially
from a man who had told her only that day that he'd never been turned
down for sex.
        Reaching for her pistol and tucking it into the small of her
back, Scully considered her thought. It wasn't that hard to understand
why he hadn't been turned down. He had charm to spare, and his eyes
could seduce a nun. For perhaps the thousandth time since being
partnered with him, Scully wondered what kind of lover Mulder was.
        Was he aggressive, hungry, possessive? Taking without question,
doing what he wanted, when he wanted...where he wanted? Or was he
soft, gentle, patient, giving as much pleasure as he took? Was he a
moaner or a screamer? Scully blushed at the typical "male" question.
        Or was he some delicious mixture of the both?
        Her thoughts flashed back to Jack Willis, the last lover she'd
had. He'd been so much older than her, so much more experienced, both
a human being and as an agent. She'd looked up to him for guidance,
for something she just couldn't name. And he'd disappointed her,
disappointed her in more ways than she'd ever be able to express.
        The sex, she thought as they walked to dinner, had been ok.
Not great, not wonderful. Just ok. And that, in and of itself, was
disappointing. They all had been, as a matter of fact.
        She smiled ruefully. All four of them, she reminded herself.
Not exactly a huge sampling of the adult male population. There was
Marcus, the twelfth-grade love of her life. Then Benny, the
irrepressible physics teaching assistant. Clint, he of the Improbable
Name as Scully liked to think of him, and finally Jack. All of them
nice, sweet men...to a point. None of them exactly potential athletes
in the Sexual Olympics.
        As they were seated in the restaurant, Scully continued her
train of thought. Maybe that's how it's supposed to be, she thought.
None of the fireworks you read about, none of the sexual gymnastics
that magazines like Cosmo made it seem were the norm. She'd taken one
of their quizzes...once.
        "Are You A Sexual Being?" the cover had proclaimed from the
rack at the checkout stand in the supermarket. Idly curious, Scully
had purchased the magazine, lugged it home, taken the quiz, and then
promptly thrown it away.
        She'd scored a 32.
        Out of 200.
        Stupid magazine.
        "Mulder," she suddenly said. "Do you think I'm sexy?"
        Mulder lowered the menu he'd been studying. "Excuse me?"
        "You heard me. Do you think I'm sexy? As a woman."
        "I'm a man, Scully."
        "You know what I mean, Mulder. Don't duck the question."
        He cleared his throat. "Is this a question you should be
asking me?" he queried. "I mean, I'm your partner. If I say yes, it
could cause us problems. If I say no, it will definitely cause us
problems."
        "You're also my friend, Mulder. Someone's whose opinion I
value."
        He sighed. "Why are you asking, Scully?"
        She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "Those women," she
finally said, very quietly. "Iris Smith. Talking about her sex life
like it was a topic at the PTA meeting. Like it was nothing. Talking
to easily about having four days of physical bliss with a man she'd
never met before. The fact that she and her husband...you know."
        "Swing?" Mulder provided.
        "Yes," Scully hissed through gritted teeth. "Swing. I've never
even heard about something like that, Mulder! Not until today!"
        "Nice Catholic girl like you? Doesn't surprise me, Scully."
        She smirked at him. "Very funny, Mulder. I'm not a virgin."
        Mulder sat back, dropping his menu. "In a lot of ways, you
are, Scully." Seeing her expression, he reached for her hands. "That's
not a bad thing. It's just the truth."
        "Mulder, I'm an FBI Special Agent and a medical doctor, a
forensic pathologist. Working with you these last five years has shown
me more things than I ever could have hoped to see in 20 years of
medical practice. Seeing the things we've seen, doing the things we've
done, how you can you say that about me?"
        He smiled at her, a warm, friendly smile. "Because that's
work, Scully. That's not..." He drifted off and then silently tapped
his fingers against his chest directly over his heart.
        He released her hands and sat back, still smiling. "This case
has really made you think, hasn't it?"
        She nodded. "Yeah. About a lot of things."
        He didn't reply. Picking up his menu, he began reading again.
        "Mulder, you never answered my question."
        He peeked over the top of his menu. "Yes," he said softly.
"Very. Completely. Utterly. Mind-bendingly." His face vanished behind
the menu again.
        Oddly pleased, Scully began reviewing her own menu.

***
        He moved through the kitchen and found what he was looking
for; the changing room for the staff. It was easy to find a uniform
that fit; most of them did.
        He changed quickly.

***
"Burger, fries, iced tea," Mulder ordered. Scully rolled her
eyes. Would he ever order anything else?
        "Salad, house dressing, root beer." Mulder rolled his eyes.
        "Watching your figure, Scully?" he teased. No need to, he
thought. I'm doing a great job watching it for you.
        As if reading his mind, Scully replied, "No. I'll leave that
to you."
        Mulder licked his lips. This was getting interesting. "If I
wasn't wearing my pistol, I'd take my sweater off," Mulder said. "It's
getting hot in here."
        A busboy appeared with a basket of bread and a saucer filled
with butter patties. He placed them on the table and then stepped
back, placing a hand on Scully's shoulder.
        She felt his fingers settle on her skin and frowned.
Something, something in his touch was...different. His fingers, she
thought, turning her head towards him; his fingers are melting into my
skin. Warm, so warm. So deliciously warm and comfortable.
        With a start, Scully realized she was aroused.
        The busboy spoke. "Is everything all right?"
        "It will be, just as soon as you get your hand off my date,"
Mulder growled, looking at him. The bellboy flinched, withdrawing his
hand.
        "I'm sorry, sir. I meant nothing by it."
        "Scram," Mulder said. The busboy bowed slightly and vanished.
"Can you believe him?" Mulder asked. "The nerve."
        "It's fine, Mulder. He was just being friendly," Scully said
softly, losing herself in Mulder's face. His gaze found hers and
locked, and Scully sighed in a way Mulder had never heard before. No,
he corrected himself, I've heard that sigh before.
        Just never from Scully.
        That was the sigh Phoebe used to use just before...
        Before...
        "Shit!" Mulder said, standing and drawing his pistol. "Scully,
stay here! Don't go anywhere!"
        "Whatever you say, Mulder," Scully said, sighing again. He was
just so sexy, she thought. Look at him standing there, his gun in his
hands, a white knight about to mount his horse and go charging off to
do battle to defend her, his lady in waiting. Oh, so romantic, she
thought, sighing a third time. So deliciously romantic. Mulder.
        Mulder looked at her, saw the way her pupils were dilating,
saw her become flushed, saw the sweat beading on her brow. It wouldn't
stand up in a court of law, but Mulder knew he had his man.
        He took off after the busboy.
        Dashing into the kitchen, he swept left and right with his
pistol, looking for the face that he had seen at the table a moment
ago. Doesn't look anything like the pictures, his mind screamed.
Shorter, heavier. Blonde hair, green eyes, little wussy blonde
mustache.
        "Looking for me?" a voice to Mulder's left said.
        He turned, the gun coming around and-
        Stopped.
        The hand was on his arm, on his wrist. The fingers were warm,
soft, oh..so soft, Mulder thought. So incredibly soft. And hot. His
touch didn't burn, not quite, but it was hot, so hot. Mulder sighed,
feeling the blood leaving his head for more southern regions.
        "Go to her," the man said. "Go to the woman you love and show
her a night she'll never remember."
        "N-no," Mulder said. "S-scully. Partner. N-no."
        "Trust me, my friend. She feels the same way about you. I felt
it when I touched her. She wants you more than she's ever wanted
anyone in her life. She's the one for you, pal. Trust me. Go. Go to
her now. Take her to your room. Make love to her. Go. I gave you each
enough for one night. After that...you're on your own. Go in love, my
friend."
        With that, the man released Mulder's hand. He looked at it,
wondering stupidly why he was holding his gun. After all, Scully was
waiting for him.
        He saftied the pistol out of habit and tucked it back under
his sweater, the suspect forgotten. There was one thing on Mulder's
mind, one single thing.
        Scully.
        Stumbling out of the kitchen, he made his way back to the
table. She was still there, one leg drawn up against the bench of the
booth, nibbling on a breadstick.
        "Hiya, Mulder," she said. Mulder looked down at her, heard the
tone in her voice, felt the meaning in her words.
        "Let's go," he said softly, holding out his hand.
        "Thought you'd never ask," she said, giggling, taking his hand
and standing.

-5-

		" `Tis strange what a man may do
		  and a woman yet think him an angel."
			W.M. Thackeray
			English Author

        They made it back to the room quickly, running at the end.
Mulder fumbled with his key; his room was closer, though not by much.
His hand shook as he tried to fit the key in the lock. Scully's arms
came around his waist from behind; he could feel her front against his
back, moving up and down, rubbing the heavy, soft weight of her
breasts against his back.
        "Hurry," she whined.
        Steadying the key with two hands, Mulder finally managed to
insert it into the lock. He twisted the handle and the door flew open,
almost causing them to tumble onto the carpet. He turned to shut the
door behind them and felt a hand in the middle of his back, shoving
him against the closed door. He hit the wood with a grunt and felt her
hands go around his waist again, one of them snaking up under the hem
of his T-shirt, nails scratching the soft skin of his stomach, rising
higher, looking for something else.
        And the other hand, curling low, ascending and then descending
the meat of his thigh, heading towards the straining stiffness in his
pants. Her hands retreated, and Mulder moaned, missing her touch
already. Her hands found his waist and she spun him, using strength
neither of them knew she possessed.
        Mulder's back hit the door. Scully was looking at him much the
same way a lion views a zebra. There was a strange, unfamiliar light
in her eyes, and Mulder gulped. He had never been so aroused in his
entire life. There was no motel room, no case, no FBI, nothing but
this woman in front of him, with the hungry look on her face and
white-hot spark of desire burning in her eyes.
        Of the two of them, Mulder was more experienced with altered
mental states, and something was tugging at the back of his brain. He
wanted this. He could see that Scully wanted this. Still, something
bothered him. There was something not right about this situation.
        "Kiss me," Scully said, leaning up, her mouth aiming for his.
Despite every single instinct thrumming through his body, Mulder
ducked under her arm and walked away.
        Scully spun on him, her hand reaching for his. "What? Mulder?
What?"
        Her fingers on his arm, the touch of skin against skin, was
electric; it stopped Mulder in his tracks. He turned back to face her.
"Are you sure?"
        "As sure as I've ever been, Mulder..."
        They moved together, he towards her and she towards him. They
met with a soft, wet touching of lips, a kiss that was gentle, sweet,
tentative, exploring. A kiss that had been waiting over five years to
happen, a kiss that had been dreamed about, thought about, fantasized
about by each of them countless times, a kiss that was as destined as
the eventual explosion of the sun, a kiss that packed as much energy
as that explosion...
        A kiss that rocked both of them to their heels.
        And then it got better. Impossibly, it became wetter, deeper,
tongues reaching out to touch, stroke, slide moistly against each
other, the gentle duel gaining heat and passion. Scully made a noise,
a little animal sound deep in her throat and she pushed against him,
wanting more contact, more heat, more skin touching his skin.
        "Clothes," she mumbled against his mouth. "Too many clothes-"
        He nodded against the kiss, his hands reaching for her
sweater, lifting it off of her, Scully's arms rising to make it
easier. His fingers found the buttons on her blouse and thumbed them
clear, one after the other, the little snick! snick! sounds loud in
both their ears. Open, the blouse revealed her skin, the hot tautness,
the silky smoothness. Mulder's hands slid around her waist, his
fingers gliding across her skin, leaving trails of fire and heat.
        "Ooooh my God," Scully whispered.
        Her fingers moved to him, lifting the sweater and T-shirt as a
single unit, leaving him bare to the waist. Her fingers traced the
outline of his chest, her nails scratching lightly against his skin.
Mulder groaned, his mouth dropping open. He couldn't breath, couldn't
get enough air.
        Their hands sped up, and in moments they were naked. They
staggered to the bed, still kissing, and collapsed on top of it,
Scully ending up straddling his hips.
        She felt him, hot, hard, throbbing against the cheeks of her
bum, and she pushed back, rubbing the silky skin against herself.
Mulder moaned, clutching the bedcovers in his hands, wanting to
touch her so badly but wanting the delicious tease, wanting it so bad
he ached.
        Scully reached a hand around and grasped him, stroking him
softly, gently. He was close, she knew, so close. As was she herself.
        "We have all night," she whispered. "All night."
        Repositioning herself, she lined him up and slowly sank down,
taking him, accepting him, groaning with the fullness she felt, the
stuffed, glutted feeling. And then he was inside her completely,
stretching her, filling her. Mulder shifted on the bed, grabbing
Scully around the hips and pulling her to him as he moved. They ended
up with Mulder sitting against the headboard, Scully in his lap, still
joined, face to face. She began rocking slowly, unsheathing him a few
inches, and then reseating him. The wet, hot friction was intense, and
with this angle, this delicious, hot angle, Mulder stiffness was
rubbing her exactly the right way.
        They kissed.
        And kissed again, losing themselves in it, dropping down a
deep well of wet passion. The room was filled with the moist sounds
of their joining, their kissing. Scully leaned back as Mulder's mouth
found her throat, his lips hungry and hot against her skin as he
tasted her, sucked her, his mouth trailing kisses along her shoulders,
his lips descending to capture first one gently bobbing breast and
then the other. Her fingers found his head, nails scratching his
scalp, gathering his hair into her fists, using it to guide him.
        Scully urged herself against Mulder harder, reaching for the
release she felt coming. It was a bright, white spot in the center of
her being and she ached to be there with it, with him, in the center
of that heat, that incredible nexus of passion and pleasure.
        Mulder felt her going there and hurried to join her. Scully
fell back on the bed, using her calves and heels to urge Mulder with
her. His strokes became longer, harder, more urgent, more needy.
Scully raised her arms above her head on the bed, fingers curling over
the trailing edge, urging her body against Mulder, using the leverage
to lift herself towards him, her legs spreading impossibly wide, begging
him without words to go deeper, harder, faster.
        Mulder's arms slid up the bed, his hands finding Scully's;
they twined their fingers together and Mulder pulled her against him
harder, slamming them together.
        Scully pushed him away, disconnecting them. She flipped over,
showing her back to him, wiggling her tush. "In me," she whined.
Mulder grasped her ass in his hands, fingers digging into the tender
flesh.
        "Oh, that's nice," Scully purred. They joined again a single,
long, wet slide. "Oh, Lord," she gasped. "You're in me so deep!"
        Mulder began moving again as Scully reached a hand underneath
to touch herself, fingers stroking, pinching, squeezing, bringing her
higher and higher to the point of release.
        "I'm so close," she groaned.
        Me too, Mulder thought. At this point he was incapable of
speech.
        Scully reared up, thrusting herself back at Mulder, her
fingers curled into the sheets for leverage and traction.
        And then they were there, together, as a single pulsating
entity. Mulder felt his entire world narrow into the pleasure center
of his brain. The room vanished and all that was left was Scully's
clinging, stroking softness.
        "Muldeeeer," Scully screamed, dissolving into release. Mulder
joined her a heartbeat later, burying himself inside her and emptying
his essence into her center.
        Gasping, Mulder collapsed against her, jarring her into
another small spark of release. She clutched at him, milking him,
making sure got every last bit of him.
        "Oh my god," she whispered. He moved off her and she rolled
into his arms, throwing a leg over his hip. They kissed again, losing
themselves in it once more.
        Slowly, their breathing returned to normal.
        They slept.

***
Two Hours Later

        Scully woke first, stirring against her partner. She opened
her eyes slowly. She was asleep in Mulder's arms, naked. The memory of
what had just happened flooded back into her mind with a shudder of
remembered pleasure.
        What had just happened? Scully thought, and then dismissed the
question as idiotic. It was obvious what had happened. The busboy.
The Seducer. He had touched her, and she had...
        What?
        Scully fought the confusion welling up inside her. Her body,
her heart, was sure that what had just happened was supposed to.
That it was right.  Perfect. She had never felt so close to another
human being in her entire life. Her entire world had been Mulder,
taking his pleasure, giving her own back.
        But her mind was confused, on two separate issues. How could
she feel confused when the rest of her was moaning softly with
satisfaction and release?
        Had she been raped?
        The thought, on the surface, was insane. Mulder would never-
        But that wasn't it. That wasn't the essence of the question.
Scully's intellect wrestled with the question, hearing Mulder's words
in the car earlier that day. Absent consent, sex was rape. And consent
couldn't be given in cases of diminished capacity, no matter how good
if felt. No matter how right it was. No matter how satisfied she felt,
how totally loved and cherished.
        Consent had been absent.
        Therefore, technically....
        She had been unable to give legal consent because that...
thing, the Seducer, had removed her capacity to do so. Then another
voice came to her, a voice from her Academy days. An instructor in
Legal Ethics, discussing the concept of the letter of the law versus
the spirit of the law. The letter of the law, Scully knew, indicated
that she had been raped. The spirit of the law was another matter. She
didn't feel violated, dirty, used, attacked. She felt wonderful,
satisfied, more in love with Mulder than she had been before. It had
been perfect, just as she'd imagined, just as she'd hoped.
        And then there was the other question, of course. Had Mulder
been raped? After all, he was unable to give consent; true, the penal
code had been written at a time when the female rape of a man was
considered ludicrous. But times had changed, and the law had
reflected that. Non-consensual sex was non-consensual sex, end of
argument. And since Mulder hadn't been in a state of mind to give his
consent either, technically...
        She had raped him at the same moment he was raping her.
        Technically.
        Mulder woke, sensing something wrong. He turned to her, saw
her creased brow and felt the blood drain from his face.
        "I'm sorry," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
        "Don't be," she said simply. "I'm not."
        "Doesn't look that way."
        "I'm just trying to understand...how-"
        "Scully, we've just crossed a line, a line I particularly have
little desire to cross back again." He paused. "Am I alone in that?"
        She gave him a mixture of a smile and a frown. "No," she said.
"But...it's not that easy. The Bureau-"
        "Fuck the Bureau," Mulder said softly. "We'll drive off that
bridge when we come to it. I'm talking about you and me and how we
feel about each other."
        She nodded, understanding. "No, I don't want to go back to
what was. I want to...explore this, see what it means, see what it can
be, for the both of us."
        He smiled. "I agree. So why the frowny face?"
        "The sexual-legal aspects of the entire case, Mulder."
        He laughed. "Only you, Scully. Only you could sit there after
the most mind blowing sex of my entire life and wonder about the
intricate legal technicalities of it."
        "Mind-blowing?" she asked.
        "Oh, yeah," he nodded. "Mind bending, Scully. Never that good.
Ever."
        She remembered something she'd said to him shortly after
meeting him, way back on their very first case together. "Better than
you expected...or better than you hoped?"
        He considered. "Better than I hoped for, but just as I
expected."
        "Mulder! That makes no sense!"
        "And we do?" he asked, leaning down to tease her lips with his
own.
        She giggled. It was a nice, warm, feminine sound and he
smiled.
        "This is going to be one <hell> of a report," she mused.

-6-

			"True love is like ghosts, which
			 everyone talks about but few have ever seen."
				Francois Duc De La Rochefoucauld
				French writer, moralist


J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington, DC
The Next Day

        "Your conclusions are...interesting, Agent Scully."
        "I'm sorry if you feel that way, sir. There is no other
conclusion that can be applied. None of the women are willing to press
rape, sexual assault or kidnapping charges. After conducting the six
interviews, myself and Agent Mulder are of the opinion that any
further investigation would be a waste of the Bureau's time and
resources."
        Skinner nodded. "I see. Where you able to find any paranormal
explanation for the events?"
        Scully exchanged a glance with a furiously blushing Mulder.
They'd decided to omit any reference to the busboy in their report.
They both felt bad about the innate lie that the omission created, but
the truth was that nothing would be served by airing that particular
laundry (clean or not) inside Bureau paperwork.
        "No, sir. As I indicated in the report, two of the women had
external signs that they participated in...alternate lifestyle
choices."
        "What about the other four, Agent Scully?"
        Scully shifted in her chair. "The first response that comes to
mind is that perhaps the four other women were either actively
participating in such a lifestyle or predisposed to it. But that
smacks of stereotyping, and is also just a personal observation cum
opinion, and so was not included in the report. Honestly, sir, I have
no explanation as to what actually transpired, as the majority of the
women have very little specific recollection of the events aside from
the sexual elements."
        "Well," Skinner said, closing the folder, "I suppose that ends
it."
        "Sir," Mulder said, reaching for the folder, "If I may, I'd
like to keep this case in a semi-open status. If any other reports of
multiple sexually-related...er, abductions occur that fit this
pattern, I'd like to have the opportunity to perhaps reinvestigate."
        Skinner considered for a moment. "Very well, Agent Mulder.
Please make this a low priority, though. I agree with Agent Scully
that barring any new evidence, this investigation would be a waste of
the Bureau's time."
        "Understood, sir."
        "Dismissed, Mulder, Scully."

***
        In the elevator on the way down, Scully turned to her partner.
"Don't think me forward, Agent Mulder, but would you like to come over
to my apartment tonight for dinner?"
        Mulder nodded. "So we can discuss the case, Agent Scully?"
        "But of course, Agent Mulder. Or," she added, winking, "at
least certain...aspects of it. I have a feeling that those... aspects
will require...frequent revisitation."
        "I'm glad to hear that, Scully."
        "As am I, Mulder. I just have to make one stop on the way
home."
        Mulder cocked an eyebrow and Scully blushed. "The drugstore!"
she hissed.
        "What? You don't have a supply waiting for me?"
        She shook her head, her face flaming.
        "Didn't seem to be a problem last night," Mulder pointed out.
        She turned to him, hands on hips. "If you think for one minute
that I'm going to let you get me..." she trailed off, thinking about
it. She stepped closer, tapping her palm against his chest, smoothing
his tie. "I'm not ruling it out, Mulder. Not any of it. But just not
now, ok?"
        He nodded. "As long as the option remains open."
        "Always, Mulder. Always."
-------
THE END