TITLE: Shimmy AUTHOR: Skylarking EMAIL: kirstenpatrick@hotmail.com DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, and archiving is okay, too RATING: NC-17 SPOILERS: No SUMMARY: Skinner sends Mulder undercover, though not very much of it... DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. So do Skinner, Byers, Langly, and Frohike. No copyright infringement is intended. Ed, Treat, Rachel Conroy, Anna, and the rest are mine, for better or worse. Hugs and Kisses to my beta readers: Trick (who wears my ring and has to put up with my madness), Corey (who can shimmy with the best of them), and Vince (who has way too much time on his hands). ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Mulder was irritated. "Scully, don't you dare say a word. I mean it! Just hold your tongue." Scully bit her lower lip and shook with silent laughter. They had just left Skinner's office after being briefed on a new case, and Scully was so amused she couldn't contain herself. "Mulder, this could open up a whole new world of possibilities for you - a career that would take you beyond the dank basement of the FBI. Just think of the opportunities..." "Scully, really, I don't want to hear it. I don't want to talk about it, and Skinner can't make me do it!" He was never going to live this down. He and Scully weren't the only agents on this case, but he had been selected to be the bait. A suspected serial killer, possibly of the rare, elusive, female type, was preying on amateur exotic male dancers, and Mulder fit the physical profile. Hell, Skinner could barely keep a professional demeanor when presenting the facts to them. He was sure every FBI branch office on the east coast was joking about it - "Spooky" Mulder was going to gyrate in a cage for a prize of a $50 bar tab, and hopefully lure a psycho into the open. ******************************************************************** "Now, what are we doing here?" Langly looked bemusedly at the disco ball above the dance floor. "I told you already - research." Mulder sighed, exasperated. He had few clues as to what was expected of him. Ed, the owner of The Shimmy Hut, advised him to get out to some nightclubs and watch the crowds for moves he could use, and make sure he was convincing. Treat, the lead dancer from the house troupe, had been more helpful, offering an hourlong lesson for $60. Mulder had opted for the clubs and enlisted to Lone Gunmen to go with him, since he couldn't take any more of Scully's smirks, chuckles, and all-out guffaws. As much as he enjoyed seeing Scully smile, it was grating on his nerves. "Should we watch the girls or the guys?" Frohike was concerned. "'cause I know which I'd rather investigate." He wiggled his eyebrows. Byers scanned the crowd. "It seems your fashion sense is more important than your I.D. here. These people seem awfully young." Mulder sighed again. It was going to be a long night. ******************************************************************** 11 a.m. on a Monday morning, and Mulder hadn't arrived at the office yet. Scully glanced at the clock, then went back to some minor paperwork. She wondered if Mulder had reconsidered meeting with Treat the dancer. Dana knew the Lone Gunmen's version of their club-hopping exploits, and she wanted more dirt. When the door swung open, she practically jumped at him with question. "Soooooo, how was your weekend, Mulder?" "Quiet. I was just a homebody. Rented some movies, ordered in Chinese, that sort of thing." Mulder gave her a hopeful stare, seeing if she bought the line. "Nice try. Quiet wasn't how Frohike tells it. He's e-mailed me three times this morning already. You hit two different dance clubs Friday and a few more on Saturday without your freaky entourage." "The posse boys were NOT helpful. I had to ditch them. After Byers got a date with a 19-year-old, and Langly started a fight over old Atari games and got us thrown out, I had no choice. I wasn't about to hang out with just Frohike AND watch guys dance. I did see some good moves, only I had no idea how to recreate them." He stopped talking when he noticed Scully's mirthful expression. "You know, you are not helping either. At least Treat was kind to me." "Oh, so you did get professional help?" Scully couldn't resist egging him on. "Well, I'm ready for tonight, if that's what you mean. As ready as I'll ever be. I even have a costume." Scully's eyebrows nearly shot off her head they went up so fast. "Really? One of those g-string thingies with velcro sides for quick removal?" Now it was Mulder's turn to be surprised. "How much do you know about those? I do have, uh, um, g-string undies, but hopefully it won't come to that. The competitors only have to stay up as long as audience reaction is positive. Having never done anything remotely like this before, I doubt I'll stay very long. At least, that would coincide with the victim's profiles as well." "Mulder, are you waffling on telling me what you're wearing? Remember, I'll be there." "Probably with a camera, too." "The Lone Gunmen are loaning me a digital. Come on Mulder, what kind of fantasy are you dressing to fill?" ********************************************************************* Mulder studied the lighted, full-length backstage mirror. He did think he looked hot, but would anyone else? And would he be able to dance? He had decided on a bullfighters costume, since it conveyed a macho image, yet was shiny and caught the light well. The black and gold satin breechers hugged his legs and ass closer than any pair of jeans he had ever worn. The decorative buttons that ran down the side seams also hid the velcro that allow for quick removal, if he lasted on stage that long. The short jacket was beaded and embroidered, embellished with green and gold stones against the black background. His shirt was merely a false front, destined to be removed in his opening moves, vanishing to leave his abs and chest exposed. Mulder was glad for his athletic physique now. He wasn't quite as defined as the regulars here, but he had checked out the competition and knew he rated high on the ripped scale in comparison. The final touch was his hat, a black low circle crown with little hanging balls from the outer rim. Very Hollywood western, but Treat had assured him it was necessary for the image. Monday night had been the slowest for Ed's Shimmy Hut before it instituted amateur men's dance night and started giving away office parties. Now Mondays drew a crowd. Mulder peeked across the stage at the number of women there already. Lots of power suits and briefcases, attesting to the draw of the office parties, but there was plenty of casual clothing, too. He spied what looked like a softball team at the table near the front. "We draw all kinds." Treat was beside him. "On any given night, the crowd is a good mix, but Mondays do seem the best for variety. I bet we'll even get a bachelorette party or two tonight, if you're into horny bridesmaids..." Mulder winced. "I think I'll pass. I am under the watchful eyes of my coworkers." That, and he knew Scully and several other female agents were posing as such in order to mingle with the crowd. Agent Rachel Conroy, who had a good field record and actually was engaged, was posing as the bride. Scully and six others were circulating with her. A few agents were in the crowd, some looked like employees, and most were strategically positioned outside. None of this helped Mulder's ego. He wondered how he had fallen so low on Skinner's shit list. This had to be revenge for something. The light dimmed, the spotlights began sweeping the stage, and the disco electronica music began thumping away. "Ladies and more ladies, Ed's Shimmy Hut is proud to present..." Mulder retreated backstage and assumed his place in line. He was third from last in a group of eleven. Treat and his professionals would warm up the crowd, then the hopefuls would parade on as a group and strike a pose while being introduced. Surrounding Mulder was a fireman and a Zoot-suited hipster. A quick scan of the line revealed a cowboy, a samurai, and one guy in a kilt. The rest weren't dressed "costumey" like he was, just normally, like they had lost a bet or something. After introductions, they would slip backstage to enter one at a time and last as long as audience reaction dictated. Treat would signal the next, and he and Ed would pass final judgement. Mulder felt his stomach drop, at least halfway to Hong Kong from the length of the sensation. His nerves were failing him. If he hadn't already lost his stomach, he would have Gila monsters in it instead of butterflies. Abruptly he was jolted from behind. It was time to go on, and the fireman was antsy. Mulder managed to make it onstage, then froze. His senses were in overload, and he couldn't focus on his surroundings. Ed's voice came through the din, busking like a carnival barker selling wares to a very receptive customer base. Mulder tried to focus his eyes and realized to his delight the spots and stagelamps made it impossible for him to see the audience. Thank someone, somewhere for small favors. He looked at the others on stage with him and observed a mixed lot: some were striking poses with a bodybuilder's flair and eliciting audience favor already; some were attempting small dance moves and hip swivels; one misguided chump was moving slowly and deliberately, like he was doing Tai Chi or recreating a Jackie Chan movie in super slow motion. Mulder decided to strike a pose in keeping with his outfit. He strutted forward a bit like a peacock, held his head high, thrust his chest out, and tightened his butt-muscles, hoping for definition in his second skin trousers. "Good work," hissed the dancer next to him, one of Treat's friends. "You've got to show confidence. Project confidence and you'll do well." That was it! Mulder recognized that advice from his high school drama coach and his college public speaking course. It would come in handy here, too. Mulder hoped it was enough to get him through the evening. ********************************************************************** Scully was having fun. True, she was on assignment, and she, Rachel, and the others were alert to the crowd and the environment, but she hadn't been on a girl's night out like this in years. And part of being undercover was blending in, right? It's not like they were pounding shots or chugging beers or wearing condoms on their heads. They were professionals, their job just happened to involve a huge amount of fun. Scully scanned the crowd regularly to assuage the small nagging guilt she had remaining over enjoying herself so much. She vaguely wondered what Skinner's motivation was in insisting on having an undercover dancer. Mulder must have crossed him once too often and he felt the need to reassert his power. Whatever the reason, she was glad to be part of the case. She and the other agents had kept a lively conversation going at the table, but Scully noticed the others scanning the patrons intently, too. With a twinge of jealousy, she also realized she wasn't the only one who had brought a personal camera. The lights decreased, the music increased, and the show began. The Shimmy Hut's dancers were good, athletic, toned, and glistening. Scully was again glad and very thankful to be part of this stakeout. She could tell as the amateurs entered which ones the audience like at first glance. The cowboy went over well, as did the guy in the kilt. One frat boy type, with baggy jeans, a tee shirt, and a logger flannel shirt was popular once he started gyrating his hips. Scully suspected he was a ringer, then her mind froze as Mulder hesitantly walked onstage. She hadn't been able to get out of him what he was going to wear and the sight dazzled her. She was stunned. She'd always been a fan of men's legs, and Mulder's looked scrumptious. The black satin hugged his lean, muscular, runner's build with precision, and the gold trim down the length accentuated the package. His little black patent ankle boots had cuban heels, pointy toes, and two shiny buckles crossing in front. She couldn't see his butt yet, but hoped she wouldn't lose it when he turned around. "Would you look at that!" Anna, the agent to her left let out a low wolf whistle. "Those are abs you could bounce a quarter off of." Scully realized Anna was watching Mulder, too. "I hadn't made it that far up yet," Scully mumbled. It struck her then that Mulder wasn't really moving and she glanced at his face. He looked like a poor cute little fluffy bunny rabbit in the halogen headlights of a fat-tired Landrover. "Oh, he looks scared." Rachel reminded them of their higher purpose, and when Scully looked back at the stage, Mulder had changed positions, but without much verve yet. He was warming up slowly, prancing a bit, and trying to look noble. Then the dancers were ushered offstage so the fun could begin. ********************************************************************* Mulder nearly collapsed backstage. He kept telling himself that it wasn't that bad, he'd be able to do this. His nerves were calming down, which is more than he could say for some of the others. They were a group of ten now, the fireman having run offstage and out the backdoor to hurl in the alley. Treat was giving them a pep talk, then all of a sudden he was on deck to perform. Talk about missing time! Mulder felt like he'd just lost 40 minutes of it. He had hoped to study the others and steady his stomach even more, but for the last seven contestants, his mind was a blank. Finally something in him clicked, and he realized if he had to do this, he may as well go all out. Mulder's entrance was spectacular. He bounded onstage front and center, and raised his arms above his head while slowly, methodically circling his hips. He knew this raised his short jacket even more, offering a great view of his midsection. He spun around, showcasing his butt in the same way, twitching like a music video extra. With his back still turned, he ripped away the faux shirt front, twirled it around his finger, and faced the audience again. The cheering and applause was really stroking his ego. He stretched his arms to the sides and shimmied his shoulders so his chest thrust out of the green, gold, and black garmet, and basked in the catcalls. Coyly, he closed his jacket across his chest and walked teasingly back towards the curtain. Cries of frustration came from the audience. Did he recognize the voice screaming "Shake that groovy body, Dreamboy!"? He launched himself at the audience, going down on his knees and sliding to the edge while removing his jacket. He swung it in large circles above his head while thrusting his pelvis and grinning like a maniac. He never expected to enjoy this so much. It was such a rush! ********************************************************************* When Mulder finally left the stage, he found Skinner waiting for him backstage. "Agent Mulder, is the FBI in danger of losing you to your adoring fans?" he quipped. "I think I'll withhold my resignation until after I find out if I won. Um, what are you doing back here anyway? Aren't you supposed to be tracking a suspect or something?" "We got him an hour ago. He attacked the guy who went into the alley, the fireman. We intervened, and when he spied a badge, he cracked. Started confessing to everything. His prints matched, too." "Sir, if you knew this before I started performing, why didn't you let me know?" "And upset the betting pool? I've got twenty bucks riding on you. It looks like you're being called back to the stage for awards. I look forward to reading your report." ********************************************************************* It was over. Mulder still felt the euphoric rush of performance, not at all disappointed over his consolation prize. All the others had left, but he hung back, not wanting to run into his FBI coworkers, if any were still hanging around. A knock on the dressing room door broke him out of his reverie. As he looked up, Scully entered. "Hey Mulder. You...ahh...you were great!" She grinned at him with a look in her eyes he couldn't decipher. "Thanks. Skinner already told me they got the guy. And it was a guy, too, not a woman like some people suspected." "Yep, just another disturbed, frustrated male. I'm sorry the guy in the kilt beat you, Mulder." "Hey, that's okay. Although you'd thing not wearing any skivvies would be some sort of rule violation or disqualifiying measure." He paused and watched Scully studying him. "Mulder, you have great legs. And abs. And a cute, perky butt. And, oh heck, everything about your physique should be celebrated." "Uh...Thanks Scully." Mulder was suddenly very aware that he was dressed only in his satin trousers. He also realized that Scully had closed and locked the door behind her. He stood up. "Scully are you..." Scully's lips closed over his, so he wasn't able to finish that question. One of her hands snaked around his head and tangled its fingers in his hair. The other was stroking his chest with a quick, soft, light touch, sending shivers through to his spine. Her tongue was pressing into his mouth and when he tried to break free, her teeth closed gently on his lower lip and she sucked it lustily. "Scully, what are you doing?" he managed to gasp. "Something I would have done a long time ago, if you didn't wear those boring business suits all the time." The enormity of what she said sank into his brain. His inner demons began a struggle between trying to maintain a professional demeanor or succumbing to all the pent-up desire and attraction he held for his partner. "Geez Mulder, sometimes you really think too much." Scully was staring directly in his eyes like she was reading his mind. She shoved him back with one hand while holding the wristband of his trousers, causing him to fall onto the tattered loveseat and the velcro sideseams to release. Mulder was astonished. With almost no effort, Scully had left him wearing only his black g-string, which was rapidly becoming too small. "Now let's see what we can do about this," Scully said with a wink. Her hand reached down for his undies. "No, Scully, they're not the quick release kind!" But it was too late. A little tug and the string sides snapped, and she threw them across the room. His cock was standing at attention and his mind was agreeing with it. He made one last attempt at stalling her, trying to make her think rationally. "But Scully, don't you want our first time to be special? Filled with love and tenderness and, well, maybe in a not-so-public place?" She had removed her jeans and green floral panties, and knelt on the sofa above him. He could feel the heat from between her thighs and knew resistance was useless. "Mulder...Fox...what's not special about this? And isn't memorable better anyway?" She let herself down slowly, teasing him with skin-on-skin contact between her snatch and his turgid manhood. He surrendered utterly. Grabbing her narrow waist, he pulled her down, easing himself inside her dripping wet tunnel of love. He heard her gasp, then she began covering his neck with small, skillful kisses. His hands travelled all over her back, finding her brassiere and releasing it so he could feel her breasts swing against his chest. This was way better than any $50 bar tab. "Mulder...ohh...this...is...going...to be...quick..." Scully was riding him with determination, twisting and writhing above him. It was a vision of ecstasy to him, and he knew she was right. Her expression held nothing back and her body went rigid in him arms, her thighs clamping his legs together and a growl of pleasure coming from her throat. He met her growl and raised her a breathless scream. All the rigidness left his body, and she collapsed on him with a satisfied smile. After a moment of silence, Mulder kissed her eyelids. "Scully...Dana...would you like to come back to my place and have breakfast with me?" "Mulder, it's midnight." Scully eyed him quizzically. "I can think of some ways to pass the time until then." He smiled at her, his eyes filled with hope and wonder. Scully kissed the side of his nose and just beamed. Mulder tossed his unsalvagable g-string in the trash and dressed in his regular clothes, sans undies. As they made their way to the exit, they passed Treat. "I told you bridesmaids were the way to go," he said with a smirk.