TITLE:     INSTRUCTIONS INCLUDED   
AUTHOR:    FOXPROSE
E-MAIL:    FOXPROSE2003@YAHOO.COM
RATING:    NC-17 
WARNING:   Descriptive sex. Smut warning.
CATEGORY:  MSR 
KEYWORDS:  Existing Relationship
DISCLAIMER: Enough problems with real people in my 
life, let alone fictional characters.  They belong to 
Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox 
Broadcasting.
FEEDBACK:   Please!  Send to foxprose2003@yahoo.com
SPOILERS:   Tooms (brief mention)
SUMMARY:   Mulder pries into Scully's most private 
space:  her bookshelves.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  The book referred to in this story 
is real ("How to Be a Great Lover," by Lou Paget), 
and all the techniques so ably demonstrated by Agent 
Scully are described in its pages.  The Investigator 
is the monthly FBI-published magazine for agents and 
employees. 

As always, thanks for Donnilee for fabulous beta and 
encouragement!


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN
SATURDAY, 6 PM
 
I didn't mean to snoop through Scully's stuff, 
honest.  It's only human nature to sneak a peek at 
the forbidden, and a career in law enforcement just 
gives you training in how not to get caught.  The old 
Mulder would have been snooping with a 
purpose...searching for evidence of Scully's hopes, her 
dreams, her underwear.  I used to spend a lot of time 
thinking about her underwear.  I still thought a lot 
about Scully's underwear, though now I got to see it 
up close and personal.  My search did reveal a 
spectacular pair of leopard-print panties I didn't 
recall the pleasure of having seen, but besides that 
and a new bottle of bath oil, no deep Scully secrets 
were revealed.

Scully had called me about two hours ago.  She was at 
Quantico, moderating a forum on autopsy procedures.  
I didn't get any other details.  This is one aspect 
of Scully's job where I'm better off not prying.  
When it comes to autopsies, the phrase 'too much 
information' says it all.

"I'm leaving in 30 minutes or so.  You want to meet 
me at my place?  We'll get dinner or something."  
There was the tiniest trace of innuendo in her voice.  
Anyone else listening wouldn't have noticed it.

Yes!  I hadn't said it  -  even to myself  -  but I'd 
been waiting for her call.  I wanted dinner with her, 
and I was keenly anticipating the 'something' that 
would follow.  I jumped in the shower, got dressed, 
and dashed over as soon as I hung up.

Scully wasn't home yet when I arrived.  Well, no 
great surprise.  Quantico was selected as the site 
for the Bureau's campus because it's supposedly an 
hour from Washington HQ.  But show me anyone who can 
make the Washington-Quantico trip in an hour, and 
I'll show you someone who's on first-name basis with 
a whole lot of Virginia state troopers.  Anyway, I 
had some time to kill, and that's how I gave in to 
the base instinct to paw through my beloved's 
possessions.
  
After making sure to restore her underwear drawer to 
pre-snooping condition, I checked out the CD and 
video collections.  Nothing surprising there.  In 
fact, we'd listened to most of the CDs and watched 
most of the movies together at some point over the 
years.  

I moved on to the bookshelves.  In my opinion, book 
collections tell you more about an individual than 
almost anything else.  I'm always grateful to catch 
cases with a literate suspect or at least a literate 
victim.  I'd seen most of Scully's books before:  
lots of thick medical textbooks, densely-printed 
pathology indexes, the requisite Bureau literature, a 
few espionage thrillers, and  - to my secret 
amusement  - a few upscale romances hidden behind the 
more serious reading.
My eyes were drawn by something new: an opened brown 
shipping box stuffed on the bottom shelf.  I pulled 
it out and balanced it against a higher shelf to 
inspect the contents.  I was thinking Book-of-the-
Month Club, maybe.  I pulled a sleek black book out 
of the top, entitled  'How to be a Great Lover,' by 
somebody named Lou Paget.  Hmmm.  I opened the book 
to leaf through it and my legs quickly turned to 
jelly.  I sank to the floor, still holding the box 
and book.  

My God!  To think Scully teased me about my video 
collection!  This had diagrams!  A whole chapter just 
on lubricants!  I peered into the bottom of the box 
and was not disappointed.  Six tiny bottles with 
flavors like 'passion fruit' and 'cinnamon,' a 
slender vibrator, and a few other toys that were 
barely familiar to me.  Lucky thing I'd been watching 
those videos all these years.  Otherwise I'd have no 
idea what this stuff was for!

In the nick of time, I heard Scully's footsteps and 
the snick of her key in the lock.  I stuffed the book 
back in the box and returned it to its spot on the 
bottom shelf.  I jumped to my feet, trying to look 
innocent as she walked in the door.  I had just 
enough time to notice the postmark on the box.  Five 
days ago.  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN
SATURDAY, 7 PM

"Hi, Mulder.  I was hoping you'd be here."  Scully 
dropped her briefcase and coat on a chair near the 
door and took off her suit jacket.  

"Yeah, um, I was just waiting for you," I stammered.  
She took off her suit jacket, hung it over the back 
of the chair, and took off her high heels.  I was 
still immobile, my heart pounding from my close call.  
She brushed my hands and stretched to kiss me.  That 
broke my trance and I felt myself responding 
enthusiastically, my tongue meeting hers and my hands 
reaching to cup her backside as I pulled her closer 
to me.  I was starting to harden as she pressed 
against me.   Jeez, I thought getting regular sex 
would make me less crazed but I seemed to be worse.  
Let her raise an eyebrow suggestively, let alone 
actually touch me, and I was raring to go.

"Unh uh," she smiled as she backed away.  "You have 
to feed me first.  Remember, I worked all day."

I sighed theatrically.  That was okay.  There was 
plenty of time for dessert.  "Okay.  Where are we 
eating?"

"I don't know.  Something close.  How about that 
little Thai place around the corner?"

"Sold.  One Thai dinner for the lady coming right up.  
You want to change first?" I asked.  I knew Scully 
liked to get out of her work clothes at the earliest 
possible opportunity.

"Yeah.  I think I will."  She disappeared into her 
bedroom, shutting the door.  I was pulling on my 
jacket when it hit me.  Scully had ordered the book 
and the toys *after* we started ...well, after we 
started...you know.  *I'd* thought everything was 
great, but maybe things weren't as great as I 
thought.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
BUSARA THAI RESTAURANT
GEORGETOWN
SATURDAY, 9 PM

Dinner was okay.  I'm not a huge fan of Thai food, 
myself.  Ersatz Chinese is fine with me, but Scully 
liked it.  We talked about the forums she'd attended 
during the day as well as scuttlebutt she'd heard 
around Quantico.  

If you had come to me two months ago and told me that 
I'd soon become a regular occupant in Dana Scully's 
bed, I'd have been the happiest man alive.  But 
tonight I had a sour feeling in my stomach that I 
couldn't blame on the Thai food.  It was the box of 
sexual paraphernalia.  Was I so incompetent that 
Scully was hoping I could be taught a thing or two?  
Or had she given up on me and now planned to develop 
a meaningful relationship with her box of sex toys?  
Maybe going to bed with me had been a huge 
disappointment.  She always seemed pleased enough, 
but how would I know?  The doubts in my head 
multiplied, then twisted, like the Thai noodles 
sitting in front of me.

"Mulder, are you okay?" Scully finally asked.

"Um, yeah.  Why?" I tried to sound surprised.

"I don't know.  You just seem distant.  Preoccupied.  
Is everything okay?"  Her voice was tender.

"No, I'm fine, Scully," my answer was deja vu.

"Okay.  If you're sure?" she responded, unconvinced.

"Hey, I know.  Let's grab a bottle of wine and maybe 
a video or maybe get some ice cream.  I don't think 
the Thais are known for their desserts," I suggested, 
a little too heartily.

"Okay, that sounds good," Scully replied, though she 
was the one who now seemed lost in thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN
SATURDAY, 10:30 PM

Maybe I'm worried for nothing.  I do that sometimes, 
you know?  I start thinking about something and my 
mind just won't let it go.  I decided to try to focus 
on the positive.  Scully was a lot more adventurous 
sexually than I'd ever dreamed.  Maybe the toys and 
instruction manual were just an extension of that.  
Or maybe it was a gag gift from some girlfriend.  She 
still had a group of friends from college and med 
school that she went out with now and then.  There 
were a lot of possibilities that didn't involve 
sexual incompetence on my part.

Maybe after listening to years of my innuendo and 
double-entendre, Scully just assumed I was more 
skilled than I am.  'No, Mulder!  Don't go there.  
Scully loves you,' I repeated to myself as she 
rummaged in the kitchen for two spoons to share the 
pint of coffee Haagen-Dazs we had bought on the way 
home.

Scully came back to the couch, pulled the lid from 
the ice cream.  She slowly and carefully, even 
erotically, peeled off the cellophane skin.  I 
grabbed my spoon from the coffee table, ready to dig 
in, but she removed it from my hand.  She pressed my 
shoulder slightly to move me back in the couch, and 
straddled my legs.  Food and sex together!  I had a 
very good feeling about this.  So good that I forgot 
all about the brown shipping box on the bottom shelf 
that had produced so much anxiety over dinner.

She slowly dipped the spoon into the ice cream, 
scooped what seemed like a very tiny amount, and 
lifted the spoon to feed it to me.  She was 
completely silent, concentrating on her task.  
Surprisingly, it turned me on.  Being fed like this, 
watching Scully lick her lips in concert with mine 
was kind of exciting.  When I started getting greedy, 
opening my mouth in anticipation of the next 
spoonful, she laughed and said, "Nope.  My turn 
now."

The spoon poised for a second over the ice cream 
container before extracting a large mound.  This 
time, Scully put the spoon in her own mouth and 
slowly withdrew the spoon from between her lips.  
Before the ice cream could melt completely, she 
leaned forward and kissed me.  Her tongue, still 
bearing some of the coffee-flavored treat, snaked 
into my mouth.  I licked the ice cream off her tongue 
and probed deeper.  Her mouth was cold and still 
tasted like ice cream.  

She pulled away from me and held the ice cream carton 
between us.   "Again?" she asked.  Her tone was both 
teasing and authoritative at the same time.  Well, 
that was appropriate, I guess.  She was obviously 
having fun with this game, and God knows, I certainly 
wasn't in control.  I nodded and moved my mouth 
toward her.  "Unh uh," she responded, shaking her 
head.  "You have to ask.  Nicely."

"Please, sir, may I have some more?" I answered, 
echoing the famous Oliver Twist line.

"Why yes, Mulder, you may," she smiled pleasantly, 
as if I'd asked to be passed a stapler or paper clip.

But instead of feeding me a spoonful of ice cream or 
making me retrieve it from her mouth, she set the 
small tub on the coffee table along with the spoon.  
She was wearing a long-sleeved tee shirt with the 
sleeves pushed up, the kind of shirt she wore with 
jeans and a jacket.  She pulled it from the bottom, 
removing it and a lacy white bra in a single motion.  
Then, just as gracefully, she picked up the container 
and spoon and scooped out a small amount.  She made 
eye contact with me and allowed her tongue to part 
her lips for just a second while she slid the 
indented side of the spoon over her left nipple, 
leaving a small dollop of ice cream.  Her nipple 
contracted immediately in reaction to the cold and a 
small rivulet began to run around the edge of her 
nipple and down her breast.

I can honestly attest that no woman had ever, in my 
entire life, done anything even remotely as erotic 
and exciting.  I'm not even sure I've seen anything 
like this in my video collection.  I could feel my 
pulse pounding in rhythm to the throbbing of my 
erection.

"Don't let it melt," she said, chastening me.

I lapped up the stray drops and took her nipple, 
along with the remaining ice cream, in my mouth and 
sucked.  The spoon moved again, and this time I took 
her right nipple in my mouth, once more tasting the 
ice cream.  Did the folks at Haagen-Dazs know about 
this serving option?

She repeated the exercise with her right nipple, and 
then again, her left.  Did I mention that I was 
excited?  Okay, I'm underreporting.  I was practicing 
Lamaze breathing  - or at least what I thought was 
Lamaze breathing  - to keep from surrendering to the 
orgasm that was pulsing up from deep inside my body. 

Again she pulled away from me.  My breathing had 
turned ragged.  If Scully's goal had been to reduce 
me to lust-induced incoherence, she was succeeding 
nicely.  However, I suspected in a dim part of my 
brain that this game was going to get worse before it 
got better.

Scully put down the ice cream and spoon once more, 
stood, and peeled off her jeans and panties.  I could 
smell her arousal, and my head swam with the need to 
embed myself deep within her. 

"Scully, I'm...I can't...take much more...of this," I 
said, each word representing the triumph of physical 
discipline.

"Ahh, you want to fuck me, is that it?" she asked 
softly.  I nodded dumbly.  Scully hardly ever used 
the f-word, so when she did, that alone nearly sent 
me over the edge.

"Well, very soon, Mulder.  Very soon."  She stroked 
my hair lightly while I stared fixedly at her crotch.  
I wanted to be charming, but admittedly, sometimes I 
was as subtle and sophisticated as a dog.

"You still have more ice cream coming to you," she 
said in a deeper, sultrier voice.  I could actually 
feel my synapses crackle as I realized what she 
intended to do next.  She spooned out a bit more ice 
cream and leaned back on the coffee table.  She 
spread her legs just slightly, and used a finger to 
slide the spoon's contents directly on top of the 
most sensitive spot.  She put the spoon down and 
smiled at me.  I scooted to the edge of the couch and 
onto my knees.  

Scully spread her legs a bit further so that I could 
reach her easily.  My mouth was between her legs, 
following the taste of the ice cream.  My tongue 
reached inside her, tracing trails of melting ice 
cream.  I silently wondered if there was a principal 
of physics at work.  Was the ice cream racing toward 
her core not just because of gravity, but because its 
molecules, too, were driven to seek the essence of 
existence?  Her salty taste combined with the 
sweetness of the ice cream as I continued to probe 
her with my tongue for several long minutes.  I knew 
this kind of penetration probably wasn't doing all 
that much for her, but I found it so arousing that I 
couldn't let go.

Scully finally drew back and helped pull me to my 
feet.  She pulled my jeans and boxers roughly to my 
feet and pushed me back into the depths of the couch.  
She straddled me once again, this time guiding me 
inside her.  Was it my imagination, or could I still 
feel cold spots where the ice cream had come into 
intimate contact with her?  The unreality of the 
entire episode made me lightheaded.  At least that's 
what I told myself later.  Scully rocked us back and 
forth a few times, grinding her hips into mine.  Four 
times, five times...it didn't matter.  All I remembered 
was squeezing my eyes shut and grabbing her hips as I 
arched into her with one final thrust.

 After a few minutes, Scully eased off me and went 
into the bathroom.  I heard running water, and then 
she called out, "Come take a bath with me before we 
go to bed."  The bath water was nice and warm, and 
she leaned against my chest as the tub filled up.  It 
seemed churlish to have felt anything but gratitude 
for this amazing woman.  'Let's see, Mulder,' I 
thought.  'You're in love with a beautiful, smart 
woman who loves you back, and oh, yeah, she's 
incredible in bed.  Out of bed, too.  Are you sure 
you can't find a reason to be miserable about this?'

We toweled off and crawled into bed.  We both woke in 
the early hours of the morning and made love slowly 
and gently.  As we drifted back to sleep, my thoughts 
strayed to the brown box as I realized neither round 
of sex had produced any identifiable climax for my 
partner.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, DC
MONDAY, 9 AM

To the best of my knowledge, the metal detectors we 
entered each morning didn't scan for evidence of 
having recently 'gotten some.'  But in my case, they 
might as well have sounded alarms.  I smiled at 
guards, I grinned at lab workers, and I exchanged 
hearty greetings with agents I could barely stand.  A 
few years ago the precise nature of our relationship 
was the subject of much speculation and monitoring.  
If I'd shown up in those days with a grin like this 
on my face, the winners of the office pools would 
have stepped forward to demand their money. 

I tried to keep my cool in front of Skinner but I 
suspected I hadn't been entirely successful.  It was 
the grin that gave me away.  Skinner asked me several 
times if everything was okay.  I always said, 'Of 
course, sir.  Everything's fine,' and tried to slink 
away before I was tempted by sheer giddiness to blurt 
out my little secret.

Scully, of course, has been as cool as a cucumber.  
Never a hair out of place, never a suggestive remark 
at the office, never a surreptitious touch when no 
one was looking.  Every once in while, though, in a 
meeting or maybe in the cafeteria, she gave me a 
certain look that said 'later.'  I don't actually 
drool when she does this, but I come close, and more 
than once I've had to stay seated and concentrate on 
memories of Eugene Tooms for a few minutes *after* 
the meeting or lunch had officially ended. 

Scully and I never really talked about sex.  We just 
did it.  I'd been a little worried ever since Sunday 
morning.  I'd never pressed Scully for an answer.  
There were a few occasions where I'd been pretty sure 
she was well satisfied, but now the box had me 
worried.  I realized that she'd provided me with 
mind-bending sex all weekend and gotten nada in 
return.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, DC
TUESDAY, 4:30 PM

"Mulder, we've done enough for one day.  Let's get 
out of here," Scully said, closing files and 
straightening the stacks of paperwork on her desk.

"Okay.  Sounds good to me.  You wanna come over 
tonight?"  I inquired.  We were too new at this 
couple stuff to have a firm routine.  We seemed to 
divide our time about 50/50 between the apartments.  
During the week, we tended to use my apartment but 
weekends were almost always at Scully's.  We'd have 
to think about the future soon, but not just yet.  

This issue wasn't a problem for most of our 
colleagues.  There were plenty of couples within the 
Bureau.  But one rule was firm:  An agent could not 
report directly or indirectly to his or her spouse or 
significant other.  That was no problem in most field 
offices and certainly not in DC.  Couples could even 
serve on the same task forces.  There was plenty of 
bureaucracy to absorb the extra supervision.  But the 
X-Files was too small to have that luxury.  There was 
no one else to report to, and one of us would face 
reassignment if we went public.

"Sure," Scully started to say, but then thought 
better of it.  "Yeah, yeah, okay.  That's okay."  
That faraway look always made me nervous.

 
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT
ALEXANDRIA, VA
TUESDAY, 10:30 PM

"Coming to bed?" she queried, leaning out of my 
bedroom and turning toward the couch.  She was 
wearing a pair of dark, satiny panties and a cropped 
sweatshirt that just skimmed her breasts.  She moved 
slightly, and my suspicion that she wasn't wearing a 
bra was confirmed when the bottom of the shirt raised 
just enough to reveal the soft, rounded flesh 
beneath.  Oh, yeah!  I was going to bed right now.

I switched off the TV and lights and double-checked 
the front door.  The few dishes from dinner I left in 
the sink.  They'd still be there in the morning.

Scully was already in bed, sitting up while reading 
some mass-released Bureau memo.  One leg was bent in 
front of her, allowing me an imperfect but highly 
enticing view between her legs.  I pulled off my 
shirt and tossed it in the general direction of the 
laundry basket, but I didn't want to take off my 
jeans just yet.  It was just too embarrassing to 
demonstrate that her bedtime invitation had rendered 
me fully erect. I sat on the edge of the bed in a 
position designed to make my condition as 
inconspicuous as possible.

She put down the memo on the floor next to the bed.  
"Is the alarm set, Mulder?"  

I quickly clicked the switch into place.  

Then, "Why don't you turn out the light?"  But it 
wasn't really a suggestion.  She sounded pretty firm 
about it. 

Maybe she was planning to roll over and go to sleep.  
I mean, we don't have to have sex every single night.  
Do we?  Before I could pursue this line of thought, I 
felt her hands working my zipper.  Woo hoo!  We 
definitely don't have to have sex every night, but we 
weren't going to test that theory tonight!  To my 
mortification, Scully seemed to have read my mind.

"Did you think I was going to make you go to sleep 
frustrated," she asked coyly.

How to answer this one?  Potential for serious 
trouble.  "Um, well, I thought maybe you were 
tired," I answered lamely.

"Ha," she almost cackled.   "You were barely able 
to walk in here." 

So much for being inconspicuous. I lifted my hips, 
and she slid my remaining clothes to the floor.  I 
reached for her, but she ducked away from my hands.

"Sorry, Mulder.  Tonight, I'm in charge."  She 
placed my arms at my sides, running her hands slowly 
up and down my chest.

"Oh, Scully, you've been in charge since you walked 
through the door your first day on the job," I 
croaked.  Where had *that* come from?   Had I 
received an alien implant that made me say cheesy, 
sentimental things?

She leaned over the side of the bed to reach into a 
large tote bag she used when she came to my 
apartment.  She had something in her hand, but the 
slim beam from the streetlight wasn't enough for me 
to identify it.  She twisted the top off and raised 
the object about eight inches above her free hand.  I 
realized then what it was; one of the small bottles 
from the shipping box!  

A slow liquid stream poured from the bottle into her 
hand.  She quickly screwed on the cap and tossed the 
bottle down on the bed.  As she rubbed her hands 
together, the faint aroma of cinnamon filled the air.  
She traced a slow line from my navel to my groin, the 
liquid leaving a warm path where her fingers had 
been.  She traced lines up my thighs, stopping 
millimeters away from my tightening balls.  Just when 
I thought I couldn't take any more of this teasing, 
she took me in both her hands, and my sexual life was 
quickly divided into Before and After.

The cinnamon scent was more pungent now, but not 
unpleasant.  Oh, hell!  It could have smelled like an 
autopsy bay without seriously cutting into my 
pleasure.  It was exotic, though, and made me feel 
like I was reclining in an Oriental palace rather 
than a musty apartment in a pokey DC suburb.  

What Scully did with her hands was even more exotic.  
The cinnamon-scented liquid allowed her hands to 
glide over me.  The same warmth that I'd felt on my 
thighs and belly was now concentrated more 
intimately.  She moved her hands in a rhythm, doing 
some kind of twisting motion when she reached the 
tip.  I'd never had a woman touch me like this. 
Actually, I'd never even touched myself with such a 
combination of manual skill and heavy eroticism.

"Scu ... stop ... gonna come," I stuttered.  I was 
barely able to articulate.

Her hands slowed, bringing me down from the brink of 
orgasm.  My eyes were closed but I felt her move 
slightly.  She took me in her hands again but this 
time it was different.  I felt something pull my cock 
and balls taut.  The sensation was not painful, but 
just tight enough to make me feel hard and full.  Oh.  
My.  God.  Scully was using a cock ring on me.  Had 
there been one in the box?  I couldn't remember.  I 
didn't care.  She was using her hands again, rubbing 
my cock with that incredible twisting motion.  I 
could die happy.

"Okay?" she asked with concern.  Maybe she thought 
my panting was a bad sign.

"Yeah, Oh, God, yeah, I'm good," I answered back.  I 
could see her smile in the dark.

Her hands slowed again but this time I was beyond 
coherent thought.  She straddled me and guided me 
inside.  She was tight and wet and the cock ring made 
me feel bigger and harder than usual.  She moved her 
legs slightly to allow me to penetrate even deeper.

"Mulder, you want to watch?" she asked in a voice 
that suggested she knew the answer.

"Yeah, yeah, please," I responded, still breathing 
heavily.

She picked up the small bottle from where it had 
fallen on the bed, removed the cap, and poured a thin 
stream of liquid on each nipple.  Her nipples 
glistened as she massaged them until they hardened, 
and then moved her hand lower, seeking the source of 
her arousal.  She gently rubbed the spot, and I felt 
her muscles contract as the sensations intensified.

"Wanna help?" she murmured.

I allowed her to guide my hand to the juncture 
between our bodies.  She guided my finger in a 
circular motion, letting go when I had the rhythm and 
pressure just right.  Her muscles were grabbing me 
now and my cock was throbbing as her body tried to 
force an orgasm from me.  Only the restraint of the 
cock ring prevented it.  I increased the pressure of 
my finger slightly.  I watched as her head dropped 
back, her nipples tightened even further, and I felt 
my cock gripped by her spasms as she surrendered to 
an unmistakable climax.

She quickly lifted off me and I heard the 
unmistakable release of Velcro as she unfastened the 
cock ring.  

"Ready to come, Mulder?" she whispered.

"Yeah.  Please.  Do that...thing you did before.  With 
your hands," I pleaded.

Her hands, still slick with the liquid she had rubbed 
into her nipples, found the unforgettable rhythm and 
motion.  A few strokes, and I came hard, harder and 
longer than I had ever remembered.  I felt more 
satisfied than I recall ever having felt before, too.

Scully retreated to the bathroom and returned with a 
hot, wet washcloth.  She cleaned me up, tossed the 
washcloth back in the bathroom, and pulled the covers 
over us.  I was still trying to regain my power of 
speech.

"Mulder?" her voice sounded surprisingly hesitant 
for a woman who'd just provided the most intense 
sexual experience of my life.  "Was tonight okay with 
you?"

"Okay?  It was a lot better than okay!  It was..." I 
was at a loss for words.

"I mean, I didn't know how you'd feel about...toys and 
stuff," she continued.

"Scully, I'd be perfectly happy if we never did 
anything but have regular old missionary-style 
intercourse.  I'm in love with you, and that's what 
makes it special.  I don't expect you to put on a 
performance in bed.  But I gotta tell you, the stuff 
you do is right out of my wildest fantasies."

"So you're okay with it?" she still seemed 
uncertain.

"Well, I may never walk again.  In fact, I better 
have another stress test before you bring on any more 
toys or 'stuff.'  And you're lucky The Investigator 
doesn't have a letters column like Penthouse, or I'd 
be writing you up!"

She laughed at my little joke.  "Good.  I didn't want 
to make you do anything you didn't like," she said, 
seeming relieved.  As if forcing men into intense 
sexual encounters against their will is a common 
worry for women.

"But I want you to enjoy yourself, too," I said 
pointedly.  "It's not just about me."

"Mmmm," she purred, and I could tell she was 
smiling.  "I could get used to that." 


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, DC
WEDNESDAY, 4:30 PM
  
"My place or your place, baby?" I gave Scully a mock 
leer to match my lounge lizard imitation.

"Oh, I don't care," she answered distractedly, her 
gaze focused on the computer monitor.  "Is there 
anything to eat at your place?"

"Probably not.  Besides, the book is at your place," 
I paused.  Would she take the bait?

"What book?" she responded.  Yup, she took it hook, 
line, and sinker!

"You know, Scully.  The book with all 
the...suggestions."  I lowered my eyes in a meaningful 
look and put extra emphasis on the final word.

It took her a few seconds, but my Scully was always a 
bright one!  "You!  You...you knew all along!" she 
sputtered with embarrassment.  I hadn't thought 
through how she would react.  I needed to make this 
right ... and fast.

"Okay, I admit seeing it by accident last week.  But 
I'm glad I did.  Otherwise, I'd think you learned all 
that stuff from other men," I answered as I moved 
behind her and gently massaged her shoulders.  I 
looked over my shoulder to make sure the office door 
was closed, and then leaned down to let my mouth 
touch her ear.  "Besides, it turns me on to think of 
you reading that book, planning things to do to me," 
I whispered.

Mollified, Scully decided to meet my challenge.  
"Okay," she teased, "but I'm putting you to work.  
You'll have to bookmark pages.  And I'll want a full 
evaluation of each...suggestion."  She was standing 
now, putting on her jacket and gathering her things.

I was already waiting by the office door, hoping I 
could get out of the building before the security 
guards became suspicious of the grin on my face.

THE END