TITLE: BLOW JOB RED AUTHOR: SHALIMAR E-MAIL: Shalimar@attbi.com Summary: If you made it past the title, I think you'll be okay with the content. RATED: R for naughty stuff. Not really a M/S "romance" . . . although you don't want to read it if you're against the idea. It's supposed to be amusing. It's supposed to be satire. Disclaimer: Chris Carter owns them, not me. As always, send all checks directly to him -- be sure to write "Blow-Job Red" on the little explanation line. This is for Madeleine, thanks for the inspiration. 7/8/96 xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx "What are you wearing?" Mulder asked. Scully paused and readjusted the cordless phone against her ear. She tipped her head forward and eyed herself in the bathroom mirror as she brushed her hair. It would serve him right if she told him. He was always dishing out the sexual innuendo. But he probably couldn't take it back. "Are you sure you can take the 'truth', Mulder?" "You know what I like." Yes. She did. "Well," she scrunched up her nose at her reflection. "When you called, Mulder," she paused. "I was just stepping out of the shower." Silence. "I haven't had a chance to get dressed, yet," she said. More silence. Scully grinned. "You mean you've been talking to me on the phone for twenty minutes dressed only in a towel?" Mulder's voice suddenly sounded slightly higher than normal. "Don't be silly, Mulder. It only takes a minute or so to dry off. I hung the towel back up at least fifteen minutes ago." Pause. "So that means you're wearing . . . .?" His voice was a cross between extremely reluctant and hopelessly curious. Scully leaned closer to the bathroom mirror and carefully outlined her lips with lipstick. "Now? Well, Mulder, I just put on my lipstick." Mulder's voice was a squeak. "Lipstick? That's all? That's all you're wearing?" "Well, yes, now that you mention it, Mulder." "What color is it?" Scully turned the tube and looked at the end. "Blow-Job Red," she read. "Blow-Job Red!" His voice was really just a squeak now. "It's my favorite color. It's the color I wear all the time." "Scully. You're telling me that the lipstick you wear all the time is called Blow-Job Red'? When I see you in the office, in the car, putting it on, you're putting on lipstick called Blow-Job Red'?" "Yup," she said. Pursing her lips and touching it up slightly. Pause. "Where do you buy lipstick with a name like that?" Mulder asked weakly. "I have to buy it when I'm in New York. Remember that case in New York?" "Uh. Yes . . . ?" "Remember Shirley, Mulder? She told me about a place called the Pink Pussy Cat Boutique" She paused. "It's hard to find make-up that works for red-heads you know." "Shirley?" "You know. The red-head? The stripper?" "I'm supposed to remember every woman on every case?" How could he not . . . ? No. In fact, come to think of it. No. "You don't mean that place in Greenwich Village . . . " he went on. "Yeah. That's the one." "The one with all the . . . " "Yeah, the one that's got all that stuff. Two ended -- you know . . . and stuff. You've been there?" "Yes," said Mulder, very weakly. Of course. "Scully. They cater to a pretty crazy crowd." "And red-heads." "And red-heads. . . . " he trailed off. " What other things do you buy there -- for red-heads -- besides lipstick?" "I can't tell you all my little secrets, Mulder." Pause. "What about your cross, Scully. Don't you always wear it?" "It's on, it's on. I wear it to bed." "So you did have something on beside the lipstick," he said softly. "Yeah, I thought -- the cross -- kinda went unsaid." "You're right. It did." Pause. Pause. "What were you doing the rest of the time you were talking to me on the phone?" Mulder asked. "Just now? Well, I was just getting ready for work, I made coffee . . . I washed a couple dishes . . . I ironed my suit for work." "You ironed your suit?" "Yes, I always touch up my suit for work with the iron after I get out of the shower." "You do? Before -- before getting dressed?" "Well, how could I iron it after getting dressed, Mulder?" "Ehhh." Mulder made an unintelligible noise. She perched up on the sink top and leaned toward the mirror to apply a little eye-liner. "What Mulder? I can't hear you. I don't know. My suit always makes me feel so stifled, so confined. It's sort of like a strait jacket that I have to put on every day. If I iron it when I'm not wearing anything, it makes me feel better when I'm wearing it." She rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror. "Oh . . . oh. I didn't know you felt that way about your suits. Did you do anything else?" "No." She leaned in towards the mirror again to brush mascara on the ends of her lashes. "What are you doing this second?" "Mascara. That's it for the make-up, Mulder. Now I'm about to get dressed." She hopped down off the sink. "Bye." "Wait!" Pause. "What are you going to put on first?" he asked. Pause. "Well, if you must know, Mulder . . . ." "I must know." ". . . . I'll probably put on . . . . Geez, Mulder. What's up with you this morning?" "Up? Nothing. . . . So?" "So what, Mulder." "What do you put on first?" She sighed. "Mulder. The next logical thing to put on. My undies." "Your undies?" "Yes." "Would you do me a favor?" "Sure, Mulder. Anything for you." "Put on your pumps first." "My pumps? What about pantyhose?" "Oh, okay. Them first." Sure, why not, she thought. The poor guy doesn't have any life. Give him a thrill. She moved to her underwear drawer. "Okay, I've got sheer black, sheer taupe, nude, sheer black with seams, sheer black thigh-highs with seams--" "Sheer black thigh-highs with seams." "O-kayy. Here we go, Mulder. I'm sitting down on my bed. I'm slipping them on, one at a time." She balanced the phone between her ear and her shoulder and as put them on. "Up, up, over the toes, the heel, the ankle, the shin, the knee, the thigh. The left one is on. Okay, now we're going to do the same thing with the other leg. Up, up, up, up, up, up, up. It's all the way up now. Happy?" "Yes." Pause. "Will they stay up by themselves or do you need garters?" "They stay up by themselves. Sorry, Mulder." She leaned back against the pillows, stuck first one leg in the air and then the other, and meticulously straightened out the seams on the back of her legs. "No garters," his voice sounded wistful, then changed as he considered. "Actually, that sounds good. Very good. Okay, now the pumps." Scully smiled. She glanced into her open closet. The shoes were in a mess on the floor. "Do you have a pair in mind?" "Yeah, the black ones with the little criss-crosses and the ties." "I should have known." She got up, went over to the closet and dug them out, slipping them onto her feet. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the bedroom wall. She had to admit, with the white skin, the black hose and red lipstick, she did look like some poor UFO investigator's wet dream. "Okay, they're on. What next, Mulder?" "Panties." She moved to the dresser and rooted through the top drawer. "White cotton, blue-flowered cotton, white lace, black lace, gold satin, turquoise satin . . ." "Black lace." "Oh, please, Mulder. You're so predictable," she said, pulling the black pair from the drawer. "Wait -- can't have you thinking I'm predictable. The turquoise satin pair. Are they bikinis?" "Of course, Mulder. I'm only 5'2" for heaven's sake. Anything else would be up to my armpits." "Do they have any lace?" "Yeah, black lace trim. And they're lace mesh across the front." "Mesh?" "Netting or something. See-through." "See-through, oo-ooh. The whole front?" "Yeah." "Okay. Them." "My favorite pair." She dropped the black ones back into the drawer and fished out the turquoise pair, balancing on one foot to slip them on. "It makes it a little harder getting them on over the pumps, and balancing this phone at the same time, Mulder. Okay, did it, they're on." "Yeah, it does." "What?" "Nothing. Does the lace tickle?" "If you really want to know, I'll lend them to you and you can see for yourself. What next Mulder?" "A bra. No wait. Braless. I want you to go braless." What, no lipstick on her nipples? "I dunno, Mulder. There's a nice bra that matches the undies." "Really? What's it like?" "Turquoise satin. It's all lace in front. See-through, too." "Oooooooh. Okay." "Okay, going on. Hooks in front. Okay it's on. Next?" "How about a cup of coffee." "You want me to go drink a cup of coffee in my underwear?" "Yeah. Why? Is that weird?" "No, not at all. Okay." She went to the kitchen, and held the phone down next to her cup as she poured, so he could hear. "Have you gotten the paper yet?" "No." "Get it." "Dressed like this?" "Sure, why not." Sure, why not. "Okay, Mulder, I'm opening the door, I'm peeking out, oops, it's across the hall. I don't see anyone. I'm scooting across the hall. I'm getting it. Got it. Safe again, back inside. Mulder? Mulder? You still there?" "Yeah." He sounded slightly breathless. "What are you doing?" "Nothing. Nothing." "What do you want me to put on next?" "The suit." "No slip, no blouse?" "No, just the suit. Which suit did you iron?" "The red one." "Aahhh." "What?" "Uhhhhh . . . . Just . . . just the suit." "Mulder, you're crazy." "Humor me." "You're nuts. I won't be able to lean over all day." "You can lean over MY desk." Scully didn't have anything to say to that. She shrugged into her jacket, leaned over in front of the mirror, checking her cleavage. Whoa. She'd be sure to lean over his desk and give him an eyeful. It would serve him right. She stepped into the skirt. "Mulder? Mulder? Did you say something, are you still there?" "Yeah. Yeah. I'm still here." His voice sounded weak. "Where were we? Oh, yeah. The red suit. Is it on?" "It's on, Mulder. Anything else? Accessories? Jewelry?" "Hhmmm," he made a soft little noise. "Anything else? It's getting late Mulder, I'd better be getting to work. You too." "Perfume. Just a dab." "Oh, okay. The famous peace-offering bottle you gave me when we got back from Comity?" "Yessss, my favorite perfume, the bottle of Shalimar." "Where do you want me to put it?" Pause. "Surprise me." Scully took the stopper and dabbed along the curve of each breast, then lifted her skirt and dabbed a little on the skin of her inner thighs above her thigh-high hose. "You'll never figure it out," she told him. "Bet me." "Okay, Mulder, satisfied?" Pause. "Yeah." "Well, it's been nice talking to you this morning, Mulder, but I've got to get to work. We're late, I'll see you at the office in a little--" "Wait Scully." He cut her off. "What?" "I can't leave for work yet." "Why not?" "I'm not dressed yet." "You're not?" "No." Pause. She gave up. "Then . . . . what ARE you wearing?" "Just a smile." Scully's knees suddenly felt a little wobbly and she sat down quickly on the bed. Pause. "Where are you, Mulder?" "Sitting on my couch. Feet on my coffee table." "You've been sitting there without anything on for the whole time we've been talking on the phone?" "Yup." "Have you -- have you shaved?" "Nope." He rasped his beard across the phone for her to hear. "Are you going to get dressed now?" "Yes." "What were you planning on putting on first?" she asked weakly. "That depends, Scully." "It does?" she asked. Her vocal cords seemed suddenly useless. "Yeah. It depends on what you would like me to put on first." Pause. "Scully? . . . . Scully?? Are you there?" "I'm here. I'm here." She took a big breath and blew it out. "Okay, Mulder. I think first . . . let's go shave . . . ." ............ The end.