DRESSING ROOM NUMBER FOUR
(sequel to "Broom Closet")
By Jacquie LaVa
Rating/Category:  NC-17, MSR, Humor
Spoilers?  No!

This story is a fast little sequel to my "Broom Closet" - and would
probably make more sense to you if you have read that one first!


Summary:  "... I think I've found a way to pay her back..."


"Dressing Room Number Four"



It's just pure luck that has me walking by Taynor's, and luck that
makes me stop in front of their huge display window to gawk at a very
sexy tunic and matching pants, worn by a haughty-looking mannequin
that vaguely resembles Skinner's secretary Kimberly.  Deep burgundy
leather, soft and smooth, slashed in front to the navel and laced
between the breasts with silver cording; skintight slightly flared
pants, also laced up the side of each outer leg.  Long, tight
sleeves.  The mannequin hasn't any breasts to speak of but then
neither does Kimberly.  Not that I notice.

Well, okay - I notice.  I'm a healthy human male, after all.  And
Kimberly is a cutie, no doubt about it.  Sweet, too.

But she's no Dana Scully... whom I happen to see through the window
of Taynor's, as I stand there and check out the leather outfit
decorating the acorn-chested mannequin.  I move a tad to the side and
stare through the glass - sure enough, it's Scully.  Wandering around
inside, flipping through racks of... I squint, move closer to the
glass...

Panties.  

Oooo... I can feel a huge smile break over my face.  And she told me
she was running errands at lunch for her mother... my partner lied to
me.  Here in Taynor's, her favorite store in DC, nosing through lacy
fripperies.  At least my lunchtime store-trekking is legit; I have a
cousin's wedding gift to buy.  I'd asked Scully to help me out, and
her look of absolute horror was not lost on me.  I know she hates to
shop for wedding gifts.  So I didn't push it, and besides, she had
all these errands to run for her mother... the little devil lied to
me.  So naughty...

I think I like it.  Hell, I KNOW I like it - and I know what my
evening is going to include, after the dinner I offered to cook for
her and the movie she promised to pick up.  Looks like I won't have
to worry about making dessert.

Without even thinking, I move to the door and push it open, careful
to dart out of eyesight when she moves away from one rack and heads
toward another.  In her hand she clutches some colorful scraps of
lace, and when she stops in front of a wall display full of equally-
scanty bras, it's all I can do not to whimper out loud.

Dessert with whipped cream on top... I am one damned lucky guy.  And
as I stand just out of her eyesight, watching her holding up one
pretty piece of lingerie after another, then collect a few and head
toward a dressing room... the most evil idea crosses my mind, and I
have to bite my lip to keep from chuckling out loud and alerting the
attention of the salesclerk, or worse yet Scully herself.

It's only been a week.  I haven't forgotten my mid-morning ambush by
one Dana Scully, as I walked through a second-floor corridor in the
Hoover building with my morning Coke and doughnut.  Dragging me into
a tiny closet with no goddamn lock on the door - just about sucking
my lips off, her sweet little rounded ass laid bare and her skirt
hiked up around her waist - Jesus.  Outside our unsafe little
cubbyhole the entire second floor bullpen stomped right on by, going
to lunch, to various other offices - no idea in hell what was
happening behind that closet door.  I barely survived the mammoth
assault on my senses, by my sexy partner - 

But I turned the tables on her.  Man, did I ever...

Now, watching her find an empty room about four doors down and open
it, slip inside... I think I've found a way to pay her back, for what
has to be the most memorable - and harrowing - caffeine break of my
weekday morning.

I quietly move toward the dressing room area, which thankfully looks
deserted - and I tiptoe past three doors, stopping at Dressing Room
Number Four. I pause there, hardly daring to breathe, and look around
quickly, assuring myself that no one sees me. Reaching out for the
door handle, I twist it slowly, carefully.  And hear her call out in
a firm, no-nonsense voice.

"This one's occupied."

It sure is... I smile to myself as I keep turning the knob,
realizing that she forgot to lock the door.  Must be Fate... 

When I step into the dressing room Scully whirls around, a lavender
satin and lace bra clutched to her bare breasts.  Her eyes widen in
shock, her mouth drops open as I shut the door behind me, and throw
the lock.  And before she can utter a word, I have her in my arms and
pressed into the lapels of my suit - and have swallowed her entire
mouth and her tongue, reaching for her tonsils.

Rule Number One concerning ambushes:  always take your prey by
surprise. My partner accomplished it last week by reaching out from
behind a narrow gap in the doorway and yanking me inside.  Scully is
deceptively strong, especially in her upper arms and wrists.  Once
she had me in those small but determined hands the havoc she wrought
on me still gets me shaky just thinking about it, days later.  I feel
the need to return the favor; it's the right thing to do.  

Kissing Scully is always a delicious event, but there's something
definitely tasty when the imminent danger of being discovered is
near.  And here we are again, just behind a closed door in a small
confined space, one of us mostly undressed and the other of us fully
aroused.  I'll leave it to the imagination, which is which. I only
care about the twin handfuls of warm, scantily-clad woman I hold and
the full lips dusted with sweet-tasting lip gloss, clinging to mine;
the fingers that have dropped that bit of lavender sin on the floor
and are now gripping my biceps hard enough to leave bruises behind. 
Bare breasts pushing into me, silk-covered legs brushing my thighs. 
Rumpled red hair bleeding over my cheek... lots of exposed skin -
fragrant and baby-soft  - and every inch is mine, all mine.

Damn, I love it when Scully goes shopping...

She breaks off the scorching kiss to breathe into my ear, "And I
thought I was certifiable.  Mulder, you're even crazier than I am. 
Did anyone see you come in here?"  

I grin down at her, stretch out my tongue and trace her lips in a
lazy circle, before deigning to answer.  "Of course not.  The coast
was clear, I swear it." I nod at the door latch, adding, "And this
one even has a lock, unlike the treacherous situation you created
last week in that ridiculously insecure broom closet."  With another
tongue-sweep of her soft mouth, I bury my lips into her neck and
sniff with enthusiasm, exclaiming, "Ooo, baby - you've been to visit
the scent counter..."

Scully emits one loud snort in my ear and pushes at my forehead,
dislodging my nose.  She fixes me with a stern glint and warns,
"Mulder, we are NOT going to fuck in a dressing room.  I happen to
adore shopping here.  I don't want to get the permanent boot just
because you're feeling frisky and think you need to pay me back for
last week's bit of impulse."  That said (and firmly, I might add),
Scully starts to wriggle out of my arms.  Which causes her naked
breasts to rub and press against me even more - and those sweet
little nipples of hers can't help but join in, boring into me as
well.  

And she thinks I'm going to let her loose without protest?  Think
again, Scully.  

I have frequent lengthy and vivid dreams about her firm, rosy
nipples - the ones that always seem to look so perky even with a
layer of bra and sweater holding them back from the world.  I swear
when she's settled over me, straddling me, pinning me to the mattress
(or the floor - or the kitchen table - I'm not choosy) those pretty
tips of hers seem to wink at me, daring me to make a choice between
them.

Maybe I should make them happy, and select both at once... so I let
her squirm once more, holding her easily (something tells me she
doesn't really want to get away that badly) - and I slip my hands up
her sides, cup both breasts in my palms, push them together and bend 
into them, using my mouth and then my tongue, toying with them. 
A hard shudder wracks Scully's ribcage and I can feel five fingers
clench into my scalp; I glance up in time to see her head fall back,
spilling her hair over one shoulder.  Her lips part and her breath
hitches and her voice comes out on a high squeak.

"Ooohh... you don't play fair, Mulder..."

No I don't - not at all - not when it comes to loving Scully,
especially when she's mostly naked in my arms and smelling like
heaven.

There are two mirrors in the dressing room.  I can only assume
they've been placed on opposite walls so that I may better view my
woman's delectable body from every vantage point, as I back her into
the corner. She retreats willingly enough, as I advance.  Her eyes
are locked on mine, the expression on her face a blatant dare.  She
extends a hand and grasps my wrist, brings my palm to her breast,
sighing deep in her throat when I cup the sweet weight and gently
thumb her damp nipple.

"That feels so good, Mulder."  The whisper of want in her words
curls over me.  I nod as I cover her lips, kiss her eagerly.  Her
body melts into mine, her hands push my jacket off my shoulders, her
thigh pushes between mine, her tongue plays 'Follow the Leader'
inside my mouth.  And there's nothing better in the world than the
feel of Scully melting into me, kissing me.  Lips that scorch my
soul, full and wet - a body that's been fashioned just for the
express purpose of molding itself to mine.  Hands that drive me half-
crazed with the want of her, eyes that flash all sorts of naughty
promises at me and words that pour from her lips right into my
waiting ear, making good on every one of those sensuous vows.

She's also willing to take chances, outrageous ones... and not back
down when I return those chances with situations even more
outrageous.  Like sex in a ladies' dressing room - the possibility of
not only discovery but hidden cameras recording our every move.  Ask
me if I care.  Ask me, when her tongue is twining all around mine and
her hands are pressing, rubbing, undressing me, until I'm as naked as
she is... if I care.

I don't care.  Only that she never stops touching me, loving me. 
Only that.

As Scully eases me out of my jeans and I kick them aside, my eyes
fall on the lavender bra, discarded on the floor.  Such a pretty
shade - like most redheads Scully looks great in lavender.  I bend
over and pick it up, hold it out to her.  She eyes the bra, then
smiles slowly, takes it from my fingers and slips it on.  It fits her
the way my hands fit her... pushing her breasts up, cupping them
lovingly, clinging bits of lace and satin covered wire that makes her
skin glow.  I can't help but stare at her, have to fight to keep
myself from drooling, as Scully strikes an exaggerated and completely
sexy pose against the corner of the dressing room, mirrored on both
sides - scantily-clad in lavender from the waist up and stark naked
from the waist down, except for a pair of lace topped stockings.

So beautiful she just about makes my heart stop...

I want to drop to my knees and bury my face in several choice
places... and that's exactly what I plan on doing.  But before I can
even start to bend, Scully wraps a hand around my neck, stilling my
movement, shaking her head at me. Taking advantage of my momentary
bewilderment, she pushes away from the corner, both hands now on my
shoulders.  She lets her breasts rub along one arm, teasing me, then
turns me toward the corner and positions me dead center of the
mirrors.  When I look straight ahead I get a great peripheral of her,
behind me, now pressed up against my back, hands snaking around my
body to grasp at me, at my balls, my cock - and I see me, in her 
hands, in the mirror.

Jesus.  When her face peeks around my shoulder and those hot eyes of
hers meet mine, I know I am really in for it.  This is the revenge
she spoke of, last week - this is the 'watching my back' she warned
me about.  Her impish whisper of, "My turn, 'Baby'..." steams over my
skin and that whimper I managed to fight down earlier pops out of my
mouth in a strangled rush.  And Scully chuckles, a low, thick sound.

Oh, hell... I am doomed.  I am going DOWN... and when I do I'll have
the largest shit-eating grin in the world on my face.  I meet her
eyes again, feel yet another groan working its way out of my throat
as her thumb traces over the head of my cock and her breasts push
into my back.  Her warning shush is accompanied by a free hand
pressing on my mouth; I promptly lick her palm and force another low
chuckle out of her as she admonishes in a whisper, "You can't make
any noise, Mulder.  You don't want to get bounced out of here before
you can pay me back for last week - do you?"

Hmmm.  I can't help but wonder who's paying whom back, at the
moment.  Scully's got me pushed in front of dueling mirrors with one
hand torturing my groin area and two lavender-coated breasts from
heaven burrowing into my spine.  Her warm breath puffs unevenly
against my shoulder blade and her other hand - the one damp from my
tongue - is busy trying to count the number of short hairs between
the cheeks of my ass.  I'm doing my best to take in all of the
action, all at once - her hand on me, the way both Scullys look in
both mirrors as she stands behind me and presses her sweet body into
me.  And on top of all of this, she's decreed that I can't make any
noise.

And here I thought I was going to be the one to storm her
'Bastille', so to speak...

"Spread your legs a little, Mulder.  I'm missing some prime real
estate down here, with you all clenched up."  The words are soft and
demanding, and if I were wearing shoes at the moment my toes would be
curling right inside them.  I obligingly open up my stance a little,
and Scully's talented little fingers make a beeline for my sphincter.
And find it.  And dance on it, just enough that it feels fantastic. 
And I'm trying not to wonder where she learned that little trick;
most women don't understand just how sensitive a man is right there. 

Then again, Scully is not 'most women'.

The combination of delights my body is currently enjoying has my
eyes almost rolling back in their sockets.  Her hands, Jesus... and
her mouth and tongue, trailing all over my back - another sensitive
area of me that responds to the slightest touch.  Her breasts,
rubbing in the wake of her kisses and the incomparable feel of each
hard little nipple.  And are those her... eyelashes?  Fluttering over
my skin, Christ... she really IS trying to kill me.  I bite back
groan after groan, watching her hand pull and stroke me, her fingers
doing amazing things to the underside of my cock while a few dainty
digits on her other hand trace mysterious hieroglyphics between my
cheeks.

Palms flat against each mirror, I tremble, harder and harder,
feeling it come up inside me, fast.  My knees are threatening to
buckle and I force out one gasping breath of, "Scully... stop...
gonna -"  

That's all I am able to wheeze out, before she releases me, both
hands pulling away - and in the mirror I can see my twin Scullys drop
gracefully to their knees behind me, then twist around and sit right
on the carpeted floor, bringing their shiny red heads front and
center, between my shaky knees.  Up against the corner - hands now
steadying my hips - the twins morph into one beautiful face, one set
of hot blue eyes, one luscious mouth and one plump tongue, reaching
for me.  

Her barely-audible caution of, "Keep quiet," swirls around the head
of my cock a millisecond before her mouth engulfs me. I am helpless
to do anything at this point but prop myself against the walls of
Dressing Room Number Four and ride out the most incredible blow job I
have ever in my life received.  This gift, so close on the heels of
the hand job I just endured - mind-bending in its own right - has me
swelling, tightening, and every muscle in my body feels the explosion
when my release rocks me almost off my feet.  It doesn't take long -
I think I hold on for maybe ten seconds tops - and I am so undone
that I have to grasp onto the clothing hooks attached to the walls,
just to keep my sagging self from falling down on Scully...

Who has let me go and has wriggled to her feet and has somehow
snaked herself into my limp embrace and is rubbing at my back,
soothing my neck - smoothing my hair.  Taking care of me - as always.

I manage to gather enough strength to kiss her and I taste myself in
her saliva.  The kiss we share is tender and gentle, the calm after
the storm.  And while a part of me mourns the way Scully thwarted my
devious plan, that impulsive ambush of my own... the more selfish
Mulder is so damned glad she is a master thwart-er.

"Scully, my God... you've left me speechless."  My voice is rough
and low in her ear and my unsteady breaths cause her to shiver in my
arms. Scully raises up on her toes and another kiss steals what
little air I have collected in my lungs, before she pulls away and
looks up into my face.  Her smile is wide and happy; her eyes
sparkle.  Her hands slip gently over my cheeks and my entire
satisfied being is just so saturated with adoration, for her.

Scully reaches up to nuzzle my chin, murmuring, "That was fun,
Partner... and you owe me, big-time.  But not here.  Let's go home...
I think I'm all shopped out.  I'll let you give me a bath... with
your tongue..."

Oh, yeah...

I crack a hugely delighted grin and nod with enthusiasm, give my
woman one last hard squeeze, then release her so that we can retrieve
our clothes and get dressed.  In between pulling on slacks and
buttoning buttons, we share tender kisses and caresses.  I help
Scully on with her shoes and collect the bits of colorful lace and
satin strewn over the floor.  When I pick up the lavender bra - and
find myself overjoyed to see a matching thong draped over the
doorknob - Scully emits a very exaggerated sigh and lifts the tiny
garments off my hands.  "Okay, Mulder - you can buy them for me..."

I smile all the way to the checkout stand.

As I pull out my wallet and hand over my credit card, I snag another
bra and panties set out of Scully's hands before she can hang them
back on the racks, causing the salesclerk to giggle and Scully to
blush furiously.  "These as well, baby - you know how much I like
lace..."

It's not until we've collected the bag containing Scully's purchases
that either of us breathes a true sign of relief. Nobody saw me go in
the dressing room area and no one saw us come out together.  The
possibility of being caught on a security camera is disconcerting but
I refuse to say anything to Scully and worry her even a tiny bit. 
It's fun to be crazy and spontaneous and a little whacked out; it's
exciting to live a tad on the dangerous side - if boinking in a broom
closet or oral sex in a dressing room can be considered dangerous,
beyond the possibility of discovery.  I think we're home free...

"Sir?  Sir!"  At the salesclerk's urgent call, we both turn around,
to see a very red-faced yet grinning young woman hurrying toward us,
holding a familiar-looking piece of apparel in her hands.  I look
down as if in slow motion, stare at the garment, recognizing the deep
blue cotton with its spattering of silver stars, golden moons - and
bright green spaceships. 

Oh, fuck...  Scully visibly stiffens, I can see her deep freeze
posture out of the corner of my eye, which means I spoke the curse
aloud - and several female shoppers standing nearby start to titter,
as the now-giggling salesclerk reaches us and places her 'discovery'
in my hands.  It's all I can do to smile at her and pretend polite
gratitude - just give the damn things to me, Lady, and let us get the
hell outta here... 

Then the giggles become 'helpful' words that cause outright
laughter, coming at us from several different directions - as the
salesclerk states the goddamn obvious.

"You forgot your, um, shorts... Sir..."

end