From: matthewk@spot.Colorado.EDU (MATTHEWS-SIMMONS KELLIE) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: REPOST "Gemma" 1/6 (NC-17) Date: 23 Mar 95 19:48:38 GMT WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated! WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated! The story you are about to read contains SEX, written in loving detail. If that bothers you, either do NOT read this story, or get someone who doesn't mind erotica to black out all the juicy parts for you before you read it. If you're underage, get your parent's permission to read it. Don't flame me if you're silly enough to go ahead and read it after I warned you, and then get offended by it. --kms This is the first of the 6 files which comprise this story. Let me make a couple of disclaimers. First, this story is, of course, NOT in any way shape or form approved by Fox Television. It simply expresses my appreciation for a quality product. Second, it *is* set in my neck of the woods, but that doesn't mean that Gemma is me, any more than any of my other characters are me. Third; The story is not particularly X-otic, just a touch of psychic ability on Gemma's part. Mostly I was interested in getting them in the sack! :-) Originally the story ended with part two, but after numerous requests for "more!" I wrote a continuation so there are now 6 parts total. This story is copyrighted by the author, 1994. Permission to distribute freely is given, provided you do not attempt to sell it. X-Files is a trademark of Fox Television, characters not used by permission. Kellie Matthews-Simmons//matthewk@ucsu.colorado.edu Member: SFLA&EBS, PSEB, DDEB, X-phile "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." --Fox Mulder, X-Files "Squeeze" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Gemma (part I) An X-Files Erotica Kellie Matthews-Simmons Quarter of two... only fifteen more minutes to go, and it'd be closing time. With a sigh Gemma picked up the heavy tray of dirty glasses and headed for the back room with them, glancing again at the back corner table under the burned out light. He was still there. He'd been in the day before, too, though only for a little while. She'd noticed him then, for several reasons. The style and quality of his clothing told her he must have a good job... or had until recently, anyway. He'd given her good tips, and been nice to her too, always calling her by name once he'd found out what it was, instead of "hey you," or worse, "baby." On top of that, he was one of the best-looking men she'd ever seen. Six foot or more, lean, but well-muscled, his dark hair short but well-cut. He had light-colored, sleepy-lidded eyes, and an incredibly sensual mouth. He looked like something out of a men's fashion magazine. One thing was for sure. He wasn't the kind of guy who normally hung around the Hi-Lo, especially not at quarter of two in the morning. Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one who'd noticed him, and that concerned her. He'd had paid for his drinks from a pretty good-sized roll of cash, and she wasn't sure but that Art & Donny had seen it. She'd tried to stand between him and the pool tables while making change, but wasn't sure she had managed to do it every time, plus while she'd been on her dinner break Darla had taken his table, and it would never have occurred to Darla to be that circumspect. She put the tray down next to the sink and smiled at Miguel, up to his elbows in dirty dishwater. "Almost closing time Miguel! How're you holding up?" He smiled back. "Fine, Gemma, fine." That was all he ever said. She wondered if he knew any other English. Probably not. She felt badly for him, knowing Carl probably was underpaying him because he was an illegal, but there wasn't much she could do about it. She'd once offered to sponsor him if he needed one to get a green card, but he'd just nodded and said "Fine, Gemma, fine." She wished she spoke Spanish. Why hadn't she taken Spanish for her foreign language, instead of useless Russian she didn't remember more than a dozen words of. She wiped her hands on her apron and headed back out to the bar to pick up the drinks for last call. She handed out four beers, reminded the regulars it was time to leave, and took the double Southern Comfort to the table in the back. He paid for it with a ten, and waved away her attempt to make change. "Keep it." His voice was slightly husky, but then, it had been all day. It was not slurred, just husky. As far as she could tell he showed no sign at all of having put away most of a bottle of expensive bourbon over the past several hours. No sign, other than the fact that he'd just given her an eight-dollar tip. She laid the money back on the table and pushed it toward him. "No, that's too much." His hand covered hers before she could lift it, and he shook his head. "Keep it." She stared at his hand for a moment, at the long, lean fingers that covered hers. Beautiful hands... Slowly she slipped her hand out from under his, shaking her head. "I can't. You might need it." He snorted derisively. "Don't need it more than you do." She stiffened, feeling a sudden rush of angry humiliation, and turned wordlessly to go. "Wait..." She stopped, but didn't turn, wondering if he would apologize. "Sorry." He sounded sincere, but then, drunks had a way of always sounding sincere. She turned and looked at him. He even looked sincere, and not drunk at all. Just... devastated. That was the only word she could think of for it. He looked like his best friend had just died. It had taken a lot of bourbon to free that look. Her anger melted away, she could never resist anyone in pain. "It's okay, Don't worry about it." "Just thought you probably could..." he paused, and tried again. "I mean... doesn't look like a place that pays well." "It doesn't, but I get by, thanks. It's closing time... can I call you a cab?" He grinned. "It's better that Spooky." She blinked... he was obviously joking, but she couldn't make the reference. She smiled to let him know she knew he was teasing her, and tried again. "I meant can I get you a taxi?" He looked at her thoughtfully, then shook his head. "Got a rental car..." "Which will be in a ditch if you try to drive it anywhere. You do realize you're certainly over the legal limit, don't you?" She wouldn't have dared say that to most customers, but somehow she knew he wouldn't mind. He nodded, slowly, consideringly, then frowned. "Can't leave it here... be gone by morning. Hell to pay with my E-07." She was amazed he could still speak in nearly complete sentences. But no matter how coherent he seemed, she couldn't let him drive. If he had a rental car, he was obviously from out of town, maybe she could get someone from his hotel to come out and get him. "Where're you staying?" He thought about it for a moment, then dug in a pocket, extracting a key. After looking at it for a moment, he shook his head. "Doesn't say." She reached over and took it from him. He was right. It was a generic hotel key, with no distinguishing features other than a room number... 308. It could belong to any one of a hundred hotels, maybe more. She ran a hand through her hair, fingers catching in the tangles at the nape of her neck. As she sighed she wondered absently why her hair always seemed to be tangled there. "What am I going to do with you?" He smiled. "Take me home?" She lifted an eyebrow at him, prepared to be disgusted, and couldn't do it. He was too ingenuous. She shook her head. "You could be a serial killer for all I know." He looked offended. "Might catch 'em, but not one." "What?" she was totally at a loss, he hadn't made any sense. He dug into his pocket again, and proffered her a small leather wallet. She took it, puzzled. "What's this?" "Open it." She did, and almost dropped it in surprise. The letters FBI were about an inch tall. She looked at the photo on the ID, then at him... yep. That was him alright. 'Might catch them, but not one.' So that's what he'd meant, it made sense now. She read the name, Fox Mulder, odd name, that. She handed it back to him. "So, Mr. Mulder, what brings someone like you to a place like this?" "Questions." He *had* been asking a lot of questions yesterday... but not about any crime. She was pretty sure he'd been asking about the Ken Caryl Ranch UFO sightings that had been all the talk lately. And he'd not asked anyone anything today, other than her for his drinks. "I'd buy that for yesterday, but not today. You can't be on duty now, you're not the type to drink on the job." He stared past her, and shook his head. "How'd you know?" "I'm a good judge of people." "Anniversary," he said softly, almost too low for her to hear. Unaccountably she felt disappointed. She hadn't noticed a ring... "It's your anniversary and you're stuck here in Denver, instead of being at home, right? Would your wife appreciate the way you're celebrating?" He looked up at her and shook his head. "Not that kind of anniversary." Then what, she wondered? Then suddenly she knew. Earlier she'd thought he looked like his best friend had died. Maybe he had... or she... someone had, anyway. On this date. He wasn't celebrating, he was mourning. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and suddenly made up her mind. She wasn't about to leave him alone to get in a car accident, or get taken to the drunk tank, or rolled for his cash in the parking lot by Art and Donny. "You wait right here while I finish up. I'll drive you to a hotel and you can get a room there, you may end up paying for two different rooms for the same night, but that's better than the alternative, right?" He nodded. Feeling relieved, she took her receipts to the bar for Carl to total, watching him like a hawk as he counted out the money she'd given him and compared it to the tabs. He'd managed to short her one too many times for her to trust him, but this time he played it straight. As she turned to go get her coat and purse from the back room, she suddenly realized she'd better say something or he might toss her charity project out in the street. "Don't throw out the guy at table thirteen, okay? I'm driving him back to his hotel." Carl looked surprised, then laughed nastily. "Thought you told me you didn't turn tricks, Gem!" She swung back to face him, fists clenched. "Get your tiny little mind out of the gutter, Carl! I'm just making sure he doesn't get in an accident, he's in no shape to be driving!" Carl grinned widely. "Yeah, right. I gotta hand it to you Gem, you know how to pick 'em. He's pretty, and he's got money. Just remember... get paid *before* you spread 'em." Gemma felt hot color rise in her face, and turned away, trying not to let him get to her. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." "Why? You ain't foolin' nobody." She didn't bother to reply, but had trouble keeping her pace below a run as she headed for the back room, blinking to clear the angry tears that stung her eyes. If she didn't need the job so badly, she'd tell him to go do something anatomically impossible. Miguel looked up as she came in, and seeing her face he started toward her, murmuring something in Spanish. She shook her head and pasted on a shaky smile. "No, Miguel, I'm all right... esta bueno, gracias," she said, dredging up the words from somewhere. Whatever she'd said must have been at least marginally correct, because he stopped, and nodded, turning back to the dishes. She sighed in relief and slipped into the back room, pulled her coat from the coat-tree, then bent down to pick up her purse from the floor where it had fallen. As she did, meaty hand slid between her legs and squeezed. "I'd pay to fuck you too, baby..." She jerked upright with a gasp and turned to find Carl behind her. Without thinking she swung her purse as hard as she could. Weighted with a day's worth of tips, it was quite heavy, and it caught him right in the face. He howled and staggered back, holding his nose as she shoved him aside and ran. She stopped at the table in the back and grabbed Mulder by the arm. "Come on, *now*!" Her urgency must have penetrated the alcohol haze because he was on his feet instantly, if a bit unsteadily. His eyes narrowed as he looked from her, back toward the kitchen from which Carl's cursing could easily be heard. "Whatsa matter?" "Just a little labor relations problem, come *on*" He picked up his coat and followed her, walking with deliberate care. As they reached the front door, Carl roared out of the back, holding a bloody towel to his nose. Gemma realized she wasn't going to be able to get out. Nothing stood between her and Carl's six-foot-six, three-hundred pounds of rage. Her mind seemed to shut down, she froze, time dilating. She was ten years old again, and it wasn't Carl, but her stepfather who stood screaming at her, belt in hand. Despite years of therapy, and even self-defense training, remembered terror overwhelmed her then, and acting on a child's instinct she dropped down and put her arms over her head protectively, waiting for the blows to start. A sharp, metallic click intruded... that sound didn't belong in her nightmare-memory. No blows came. It was oddly quiet. After a moment she dared to look between her fingers, and saw that Carl wasn't even looking at her, but at someone she couldn't see. "Step away from her, now." The husky voice was familiar, but now held an authoritative crispness. Carl moved away, and she saw why he was being so uncharacteristically cooperative. Mulder had a gun, a lethal-looking black steel thing, trained with unbelievable steadiness on Carl. How could he be as drunk as he had to be, and still be able to stand there like that, utterly focused? "You can get up now," he said quietly, not turning his head. She knew he was talking to her, and stood up, realizing she was still clenching her coat and purse. "Hey, man, she *hit* me!" Carl whined. "You got no reason to pull a piece on *me*! She's the problem!" "She's the problem? You got ten inches, two hundred pounds on her, an' she's the problem? What'd y'do to make her hit you?" Gemma knew suddenly that Mulder's steadiness was an act. He'd dropped too many words out of his sentence... he was still drunk. Carl was too mesmerized by the gun to notice, thankfully. "Nothin' man! Nothin'!" "What'd he do?" the words were directed at her. "He touched me, and said... things." she said quietly. "'Figured it was somethin' like that. Okay, go to the table close t' the kitchen," Mulder said quietly. Carl obeyed, eyes never leaving the gun. "Turn th' chair toward the wall, sit down, and start counting. When you get to five hundred, you can get up." Carl turned slowly, obviously not wanting to take his eyes from the man with the weapon, but not seeing a choice. After a moment he started to count, voice shaky, obviously convinced that he was about to be shot in the back. Mulder lowered the gun and rubbed at his forehead for a moment, then nodded toward the door. Instantly she opened it, and they hurried out. He pulled a key from his pants pocket and shoved it into her hand. "Drive." It was obvious which car, it was the only one on the street less than ten years old. She ran to it and unlocked the driver's door, which automatically unlocked the passenger door too. Gemma slid into the driver's seat, put the keys in the ignition, and fumbled for the adjustment, her legs weren't near as long as his and she couldn't reach the gas or brake. He got in on the other side as she found the lever, then started the car and peeled out, leaving tracks half a block long. He leaned back in the seat, eyes closed, breathing in short gasps. She suspected he was trying hard not to get sick. She made a left, and right, then left again onto a one-way that would lead her to Sixth Avenue more quickly, She was pretty sure Carl Coby was still sitting at the table counting, but she didn't want to take any chances. For a moment she thought uncharitable thoughts about her passenger, then felt ashamed of herself for having done so. Even if he had inadvertently been the catalyst, it wasn't his fault, not really. The confrontation with Carl had been inevitable, and if he hadn't been there, she might have ended up in the hospital. One thing was sure, she was never going back to the Hi-Lo again! She wasn't going to give Carl another shot at her. It suddenly hit her. She'd just lost another job. Without it, she couldn't pay her tuition, without that, she'd never get the degree she needed to stop working service industry jobs. Her throat grew tighter and tighter, until it hurt even to breathe, and she didn't dare try to talk. Despite her control a tear slid down her face, then another, blurring the road, making it hard to see. She reached inside herself and located the cold, numb place where nothing hurt, and slid into it, walling herself off. The tears stopped, her throat relaxed. She could breathe again. Better. Gemma realized he'd gotten awfully quiet, and looked over at him in concern. He was out... she could tell by the boneless way he was sitting, kept upright only by the shoulder belt. Well... at least he'd managed to stay conscious long enough to be helpful. He still held his gun, though thankfully his fingers were around the grip but not through the trigger. That would have made her awfully nervous. The fact that it was out at all made her a bit tense, and she glanced at the speedometer. Just to be on the safe side, she slowed to exactly fifty-five. All she needed was to get pulled over and have a cop notice. She was sure he had a permit for it, after all, he was sort of a cop himself, but she was also sure that what he'd just done was against some regulation or other, if not specifically against the law. She drove east on Sixth until she got far enough into a populated area to feel safe, then pulled into the parking lot of a La Quinta Inn. For a moment she sat there, at a loss, she'd never had the opportunity to stay in a hotel herself, though she'd worked in housekeeping at a Holiday Inn for awhile. She wasn't entirely sure to how to go about getting him a room. Did one pay in advance? The only money she had on her was her tips. That wasn't going to do it. She reached over and shook him gently. "Hey... hey, wake up, please?" No response. He was really out of it. She sighed. "I'm sorry, but I have to get to your wallet." she said, feeling a bit silly talking to someone who was obviously unconscious. She gently removed his gun from his lax grip and pushed it under the seat out of sight, then reached underneath him to see which pocket his wallet was in. The right one, of course, that meant she'd practically have to lie in his lap to get to it. As she managed to work her fingers into his pocket she was very aware of the warm, resilience of his skin separated from her fingers by the scant thickness of the pocket lining. Her face was pressed against his chest and he smelled good... surprisingly so, considering how long he'd been sitting in the smoky atmosphere of the Hi-Lo. She was sure she reeked of stale tobacco and liquor. Maybe in the back the smoke didn't get as thick as it did around the pool tables and bar. That was something she wouldn't miss. Finally she managed to get her fingers around his wallet and extract it, with some difficulty, from his pocket. Thank god he'd been wearing a suit, she'd never have gotten it out of a pair of jeans. She looked through the contents of the wallet, noticing that his driver's license had been issued in Virginia, and that he had about eight credit cards along with close to a hundred dollars in cash, and more in travelers checks. She took the keys out of the ignition, dropped them into her coat pocket, and locked him in the car before walking up to the office. The clerk, a big fresh-faced kid who looked like a high-school linebacker, looked up eagerly as she walked in. "Hi, I'm Mark, can I help you?" "I need a room, please." "Certainly, just tonight?" She thought about it for a moment, and shook her head. In all likelihood he wasn't going to be awake before checkout. "Better make it through tomorrow, just in case." "Okay, single or double?" "Ah... single." "Smoking or non-smoking?" "Non-smoking." He hadn't smoked in the bar, and if he hadn't there, he didn't. "Any special needs?" Special needs? Like what, she wondered, then it occurred to her she did have one. She had to be able to get him into without help. "Do you have anything on the first floor? Near an outside door?" His fingers flew on his keyboard. "The only thing I have on the first floor near a door is a double." "I'll take it." "Okay. Cash or credit card?" "Um... credit," she pulled out the first credit card she found. Thankfully it wasn't one of those with a photo on it. She gave it to the kid and he ran it through the machine without comment, then handed it back to her. She waited, as he finished filling out the form, then handed her a key, and a photocopied diagram of the hotel. "Here you are, you're in room 184, I've circled it on the map. You'll have to go through the main entrance here, we lock the other doors at night for the security of our guests." She took the key and headed for the door, then stopped as his meaning sank in. There was no way she could wrestle an unconscious six-foot male from the parking lot, through the lobby, and all the way back to the room. She turned back to the desk. "Ah... I have a little problem." The kid looked up, curious. She smiled, embarrassed. "My friend... out in the car. He's had... well... a little too much to drink and passed out. That's why I wanted a room near an outside door." Mark stared at her for a moment, then he started to grin. "Hey, I've been there... hang on a second..." he picked up the phone. "Jen, could you come out to the desk for a minute? I need to help someone with their stuff. Yeah? Thanks!" He looked back at her and smiled. "Someone will be right here to take the desk for me, why don't you drive around to the west door, and I'll meet you there and let you in." She drove the car around to the back of the hotel as he'd instructed, and found him waiting at the door when she arrived. He propped the door open with a cinderblock and came over to the car. "Need help?" She looked at him, then at her passenger. "Would you mind?" she asked, hopefully. "Nah, like I said, I've been there," he chuckled and leaned in, unfastening the seat-belt. "Why don't you go unlock the room?" She hesitated. "Don't you want me to help?" "Nah... really, it's easier to just do it myself." She nodded and dashed ahead to unlock the room. A moment later Mark appeared, Mulder slung over his shoulder like a garment bag. She couldn't help but hope being carried like that didn't make him sick. Mark eased him down onto one of the beds and straightened. "There ya go, safe and sound." "Thank you so much!" she fumbled in her purse and dug out the twenty dollar bill she'd gotten from the money machine earlier that day. "Here, please, you've been so helpful!" He shook his head. "That's okay, just do someone else a favor sometime." She nodded, and he left the room. It suddenly occurred to her that she'd left the car open, and went back outside to close and lock the doors. Remembering his gun, she fished it out from under the seat and tucked it into her purse, hoping it was safe to do that... she didn't know anything about guns. When she let herself back into the room he hadn't moved, not a centimeter. She looked at him lying there fully clothed, and sighed. She couldn't leave him like that. Plus, he was lying on his back, never a good thing when you'd overindulged. She set her purse down carefully on the dresser, hung up her coat, put out the "do not disturb" sign, and went to work. Shoes first, then socks, then tie. She managed to wrestle him out of his overcoat and suit coat, got his shirt off, and stopped for a moment to catch her breath and decide if that was far enough. Gemma studied him for a moment, and smiled to herself. He was every bit as good looking with most of his clothes off, as he was with them on. That, in her experience, was not typical. She decided to keep going. After all, she deserved *something* for her trouble! She opened the hook, and eased the zipper down far enough to see that he had on something underneath. Good. She hadn't planned to go quite that far. She tugged his pants off, and her smile became a grin. Boxer shorts? She'd never actually seen them on a man before, at least not on a man who wasn't in an advertisement or a movie. She admired the view for a moment, then put a hand beneath his hip and shoulder and rolled him onto his stomach. That done, she pulled the bedspread off the second bed and covered him. Picking up his clothes she stepped into the little wardrobe area next to the bathroom and hung them up, then she started feeling a little shaky. She leaned on the bathroom counter for a moment to let it pass, but it didn't go away. With nothing to occupy her, she couldn't stop thinking about what had happened, about the utter helplessness she'd felt, something she'd sworn she wouldn't ever feel again. The look on Carl's face as he came toward her, the feel of his hand between her legs... She barely got the toilet seat up in time. A few moments later she flushed and was able to straighten and rinse her mouth at the sink, letting the cold water cleanse the taste of bile from her mouth. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw that her face was dead white, her eyes dilated. She felt dirty... handled.... The smell of the place was in her hair, on her skin, in her clothes. Without thought she turned on the shower and kicked off her shoes. There were the usual complimentary toiletries on the counter, she grabbed a bar of soap and unwrapped it, then stepped into the shower, to try to scrub the reek of the bar from herself. After a moment she sank to her knees, crying. As her tears slackened, it suddenly dawned on her that she'd gotten into the shower fully clothed. Looking down at herself, watching the hot water course over the ugly polyester peasant blouse and short black skirt that constituted her cocktail waitress 'uniform,' her tears suddenly became laughter. Shaking her head she peeled off her sodden clothes and finished showering. She dried off, and squeezed as much water as she could from her things before hanging them over the rod to dry. She was stuck now until her clothes dried. Ah well, at least Colorado had a dry climate, so it shouldn't take long for them to be wearable again. She found a pocket comb in his suit jacket, and used it to tug the snarls out of her hair. Checking the mirror, she saw that her color and eyes looked normal again. She felt almost human, though extremely tired. Tired... she realized there was a perfectly good bed that was not being used, and she intended to rectify that. She didn't feel comfortable wandering around without a stitch on, though. She eyed her still-dripping bra and panties with a sigh, not about to put them back on yet. That left her only one choice. She took his shirt off the hanger and sniffed it cautiously. It had a very slightly smoky smell to it, but nothing like the nicotine stench her own clothes had held. It also smelled like... him. There was no other way to describe it. She stood there with her nose in his shirt, breathing in the rich complexity of it, until she realized what she was doing and a blush that started somewhere around her toes washed over her. Quickly she slipped the shirt on, and went to get into bed. As she reached for the light, she noticed he was lying on his back. She pushed him onto his stomach, turned back the covers of the other bed to get in, but by time she'd sat down, he was on his back again. She sighed, rolled out of bed, and flipped him over again, and shook a finger at him in exasperation. "Stay there!" She turned out the light, put a knee on her own bed and heard the telltale sound of sliding covers. Turning, she confirmed it, and shook her head. "Look, if you don't lie on your stomach, you may regret it!" Her scold drew no response, and she stood there looking down at him, knowing that even if she did roll him over again, the minute she turned her back he'd turn over. It was tempting to just let him lie, but she'd had a roommate who'd almost died when she'd passed out drunk and thrown up. She couldn't deal with that. "Okay, let's try this..." she turned him over again, quickly lifted the bedspread and slid in next to him, her body preventing him from turning over again. She waited. He stayed put. She decided to wait a little while longer just to make certain he stayed where he was. ### She was waking up... she didn't want to wake up. She was *sure* she didn't want to wake up, her dreams were just too good to lose, and she was too close to it.. ah yeah, right there, like that... Her dream-lover's fingers moved just exactly the way she wanted them to, his warm body against her back felt wonderful, his lips and teeth grazing the back of her neck as his hand worked magic between her thighs. Oh... just a little more... she moved her hips, arching into his touch, and moaned as ecstasy unleashed itself inside her, leaving her limp and gasping. Both the hand cupped over her from the front, the one on her hip, and the lips against her neck were still as her body shivered itself into peace, and the slow realization dawned that she wasn't dreaming. After a moment's thought she knew exactly where she was and with who, and she felt too incredibly released and relaxed to jump, or scream in surprise, or do any of the things the situation might warrant. "Good morning..." his voice was still husky, velvety, and the sound of it made her shiver as it coaxed a last curl of pleasure from her body. "Yeah..." she sighed, trying to decide whether to be angry with him for taking advantage of her, or pleased that he had. The hand on her hip stroked gently, and he spoke again. "Look, I'm sorry about last night, I honestly don't remember a thing... as plowed as I was, I can't possibly have been any good. But I'd be happy to try to make it up to you now." She stared at the line of sunlight beneath the heavy curtains at the window and wondered what the heck he was talking about. After a moment's thought she suddenly realized he must *really* not remember... about Carl, or the gun, or anything. He must think she'd picked him up to have sex with him! She wondered if he even knew her name. For some reason she found the whole situation incredibly amusing. She was lying in bed with a gorgeous man, who'd just given her one of the best orgasms she'd ever had in her life, and it was all a mistake. She started to giggle, and tried to smother it so he wouldn't be offended. She felt him tense against her, and then he was turning her onto her back so he could see her face. She put her hands over her face to hide behind them. "Gemma... are you crying?" Oh no... that interpretation hadn't occurred to her. She shook her head, desperately trying to control herself. Well, that was one question answered. He did remember her name. "What's wrong? What's the matter?" "N...n...nothing!" she managed to gasp. He pried her hands away from her face, and the look of concern on his face became bewilderment, then slowly he started to smile as he realized what was happening. "You're laughing! Thank god!" She sucked in a deep breath and managed to speak. "Sorry.. sorry. Didn't mean to." "Want to share the joke?" "You wouldn't understand..." "Try me." "No, really... but thank you." "What for?" "For the best wake-up I've ever had." He grinned. "Liked that, did you?" She nodded. "It was great." He looked at her searchingly, and stroked her hair back away from her face. "Really?" "Really." She studied him, he really was amazingly attractive. His dark hair was tousled, his eyes still sleepy, his mouth a sensual invitation... her breathing grew a little ragged and she licked her lips, they were suddenly very dry. His eyes lowered. "Good, at least I did that right. When I woke up and found you here I was so... well... I mean, I'm surprised I could even walk, let alone..." his voice trailed off, and his color heightened. She ran a finger across his cheek where the color was deepest, feeling the heat of his blush. "You couldn't, but don't worry about it." "I couldn't?" "Walk, or anything else for that matter." "How'd I get in here?" She grinned. "The bell-boy." "You're kidding, right?" "Nope, he carried you in like a piece of luggage." He looked horrified, and collapsed back against the pillow, covering his face with his hand. "Oh my god... I am so embarrassed." "Don't be. It was alright. You helped me out of a bad situation, it was only fair for me to help you in return." "Hang on here, I'm getting confused. Would you mind telling me exactly what did happen last night?" "Not at all, just remember, I'm not upset, okay?" He looked puzzled, but nodded. She explained. About halfway through the story he picked up a pillow and put it over his face, but didn't interrupt. When she finished, he was silent for so long she started to get worried. She tried to lift a corner of the pillow, but he held it in place. "You still alive under there, or did you suffocate?" "If I died, it would be of humiliation, not suffocation," came his muffled reply. "I will never, ever be this ashamed again in my entire life." "Never say never. Come out from under there, you've got nothing to be ashamed of." "Ha!" "No, really. I *told* you I wasn't upset." "How can you not be upset?" he demanded, lowering the pillow to stare at her in amazement. "I just... just..." he trailed off, blushing again. She shook her head and pulled the pillow out of his hands, laying it aside. "I like you, I liked what you did. I'm not sorry you did it." "I..." he studied her face for a long moment. "You're sure?" Feeling exceptionally bold, she reached over, took one of his hands in hers, and placed it on her breast. Even through the shirt he had to be able to feel her nipple harden. "I'm sure," she said softly. "In fact, I wouldn't mind if you did it again." Still looking into her eyes, his palm shaped her breast gently, then his fingers skimmed the taut peak, brushing the soft cotton of his shirt over it. She caught her breath and sighed, eyes closing for a moment, then opening again as his eyes dropped to her mouth. He lifted his other hand and trailed a fingertip over her lips until she shivered, then he leaned over and covered her mouth with his. Velvet, just like his voice. She reached up and slid her fingers into his hair, encouraging her to kiss her harder, but he didn't. His lips brushed hers, over and over, then he traced the outline of them with his tongue. She flicked her own out to touch his, hoping to entice him into following it inside, but again he refused to take the hint. He lifted away and pressed a kiss into the curve just below her ear, then moved to repeat the caress on the other side. All the time his fingers kept teasing her breast, just the one, until she was aching for him to turn his attention to the other side. "Gemma..." his voice was a whisper against her ear. "What exactly did you want me to do again?" She turned her head so she could see him. He looked utterly serious, a shadow of uncertainty in his eyes. This close she could finally see that they were mostly green, with brown flecks. Because of that uncertainty she concentrated on his question, trying to read any hidden meaning there, ah... that was it. He wanted to know if she'd been asking him to get her off, or inviting him to join her. She smiled. "I want you to make love with me." There. It couldn't be said any plainer. The uncertainty disappeared instantly, and he took her mouth again, this time with less restraint. She returned his kiss, fiercely hungry for it. She'd never much cared for kissing, but somehow his were different. Something about his mouth made her want to suck it, lick it. She indulged, and after a moment or two he lifted his head, breathing heavily. "Hey, slow down, it's not a race," he laughed softly. She blushed, a little embarrassed. "I guess I'm just a little... eager. It's been a long time." "How long is a long time?" She thought back, and it was a bit of a shock to realize how long ago she'd moved out of the apartment she'd shared with Mike. There had been no one since. "Three years," she admitted. "That *is* a long time, I can see how you might be a little... eager," he imitated her pause perfectly, and smiled. "Let's see what I can do to slow you down." He pushed the tails of his shirt up around her hips and cupped a hand over her mons. She closed her eyes, pushing herself toward him. "No, let me do it, you just relax... there, good..." his fingers moved, stroking, parting. She'd never felt herself so wet... almost embarrassingly so. But oh... it felt good, so good, as his fingers teased. She shifted restlessly, opening her thighs a little wider, giving him better access. He kissed her again, his tongue found the seam of her lips, parted them and slid inside, tasting her. She moaned and closed her eyes, letting him lick at her, licking him back, every movement sending shockwaves of arousal through her. She drew back, gasping for breath, and he followed, his lips grazing her chin, her throat. "Fox... Fox, please..." she couldn't decide whether to tell him to stop, or to keep going. It felt so good it almost hurt. She put her hand up to his face, he caught it and kissed her fingers, then slowly sucked each one before taking her hand and placing it behind his neck as he began to lick her throat. He captured her earlobe in his teeth for a moment, then whispered; "Gemma, I want to taste you." Her whole body shuddered at the thought, and she gasped as his hands were on her inner thighs, opening her wider, and his mouth closed over her sex. His tongue probed inside her, then slid upward to flick over her clitoris. She arched and moaned, clutching at his shoulders. "Goddess that's good!" she gasped, shaking with need. He lifted his head and smiled sensually. "Then come for me, I want to feel you come." She couldn't refuse him... his voice alone could almost make her come. His tongue swirled over her clit again, then his fingers were opening her so he could lick deeper into her vagina. She clenched her fists in the bedspread and panted, reaching for it, reaching for it... As his mouth closed over her clit and he pushed his fingers into her sheath she found it, and went stiff, digging her heels into the bed as her entire body seemed to clench, then release in rhythmic spasms. His hand stilled, fingers buried deep inside her, but he continued to tongue her, coaxing another gasping shudder from her, and another. Finally he let her come down, his head resting on her thigh as he began to gently work his fingers in and out of her sex again. "Oh stop... I can't... no more..." she managed to gasp, trying to catch her breath. He didn't stop. "Yes you can, Gemma, you know you can. I want to fuck you now... will you let me?" She shivered as the gentle obscenity sent ripples of fresh desire through her. His reverent tone removed any harshness from it, and rendered it intensely erotic. She tried for a moment to think rationally, but as she did he rolled to his knees, fingers still moving inside her, as he unbuttoned the shirt that covered her, then braced his weight on his other arm and leaned down to taste her right nipple. All rational thought fled, and a single word shaped itself in her mouth. "Yes." He sat up, and shifted position, leaning down to kiss her mouth very softly, his tongue licking delicately at her parted lips. She sighed, and sucked on his tongue, tasting herself in his mouth. She put her hand behind his neck and held him in place as their kiss went from lazy to urgent, and she pulled him toward her. "Now," she gasped. "I need you, please!" "Just a second, I want to feel all of you..." She felt him tug first one sleeve of the shirt off, then the other, then she was free of it, in seconds his shorts were gone too, and both of them were completely naked. She drew up her knees, her thighs wide to give him easy passage, watching him kneel there. He was so beautiful... long, lean, muscled, everything flowing smoothly from one curve to the next. Even his sex was beautiful, a new concept to her... that a man's sex could be beautiful, but it was. Hard, strong, urgent, perfectly made, flawlessly compatible. She still couldn't believe this was happening. He leaned forward, fingers opening her, then he was entering her for the first time, his body becoming part of hers. She curved herself up to him, helping him forge deeper, loving the way he filled her. She heard herself moaning softly, as he completed the inward stroke, and whimpered as he withdrew. She was going to come again... impossible, but undeniable. She knew the insistent ache that signalled an approaching explosion. He surged into her again, setting a slow, steady rhythm. "This is too good!" she gasped, panting. "There's no... such thing," he whispered back, his movements becoming faster, and harder. She clutched at his hips, ran her hands over the hard curves of his buttocks as he drove his body into hers, lifting her off the bed with each stroke. She thought she was going to die of pleasure. He was wrong, there was such a thing as too good... and this was it. She chanted his name like a spell, to keep her firmly attached to her body as he pushed her past her boundaries. Lightning struck, and she cried out in ecstasy as it pulsed through her, again and again. As the tension left her she felt him go still, buried deep inside her, and felt the sudden heat of his release as he filled her, a soft moan breaking from his lips as he shuddered into her a last time. She pulled him down and held him in the cradle of her body, arms and legs folding him close as his breathing began to slow. She was afraid to speak, afraid it would somehow destroy the utter perfection of the moment, so instead she just dropped a kiss into his hair and held him, hoping he would understand. Apparently he did, as he didn't speak either, but he did find her hand and laced his fingers through hers. Her eyelids began to droop. She fought it off a couple of times wanting to savor the feel of him in her arms, but finally she couldn't fight it any more, and her eyes closed. #### "... you're sure? No complaints or anything? Yeah... no... that's okay, thanks. I appreciate your help." The sound of the handset returning to its cradle alerted her to the fact that he'd been talking to someone on the telephone, not her, which was good because from her point of view it hadn't made much sense. She opened her eyes to find him sitting on the unused bed, writing something on a piece of hotel stationary. He was wearing pants but no shirt, and his feet were bare. She noticed absently that he had long toes. "Hi..." she said, feeling a bit awkward all of the sudden. He looked up and smiled, relaxing her instantly. "Hi yourself. Get enough sleep?" She considered that for a moment, then nodded. "I think so." "Good. Get dressed and we'll go get something to eat." She studied him for a moment, shaking her head. "Don't you have a hangover?" He shook his head. "No, oddly enough. I should, but I don't." "Amazing. Who were you talking to?" He grinned sheepishly. "Local law... I wanted to see if there was an APB out on anyone fitting my description for pulling a gun in a bar. There's not. Apparently your boss didn't see fit to notify the authorities. Oh, and he didn't complain about getting beaten up by any of his waitstaff, either, if it makes you feel any better." She shivered. "Well, since I hadn't even *thought* about that possibility until you mentioned it, no, it doesn't really." She sat up, holding the sheet around her, unaccountably shy now that they weren't actually making love. He watched her, and she saw a dimple appear in his cheek as he tried not to smile. "I know, it's silly. I can't help it." "No, it's not silly, I thought it was kind of cute." "Augh!" she cried, and put her hands over her ears, dropping the sheet in the process. "Don't *ever* call me that! I *hate* that!" A broad grin spread across his face, "Okay." She sighed. "Why do I get the feeling I should *not* have told you that?" "You must be psychic." "Well, sometimes. What do you want to eat?" she said, attempting to change the subject. He chuckled, his eyes moving downward over her in a caress she could almost feel. "That depends..." She blushed and hauled the sheet up again. "Besides that." He looked so disappointed that she almost let it fall again, until she saw the mischief in his eyes. She shook her head, smiling. "I bet that works almost every time, doesn't it?" "What?" he asked innocently. "You know what." "Oh, that. Well... sometimes. He reached behind him and picked up his shirt off the bed. "Here, wear this. I hung up your things when I took my shower, they seem to be dry." The thought of him removing her panties from the shower- curtain rod made her blush again as she put his shirt on. It seemed so... intimate. Fastening the buttons, she stood up and headed for the bathroom. "How'd you get soaked like that? Was it raining last night?" he asked innocently. She stopped, eyes closed as she fought against remembering the way she'd felt, and shook her head. She opened her mouth to tell him, but couldn't find a way to explain it, so she just left it at that and continued into the wardrobe area to get her things. As she was taking her skirt off the hanger, she felt his hand on her shoulder. "Hey... what's wrong?" "Nothing." "Not nothing, what?" She could tell he wasn't going to let it go. "My clothes got wet in the shower, okay?" "In the shower? What were you doing in the shower with your clothes on?" "Trying to feel clean," she whispered, staring unfocused at the hangers. He gently turned her to face him, and searched her face with narrowed eyes. "What did he do to you?" "Nothing really, he just touched me..." she shuddered and swallowed against sudden nausea. "I was just so... scared. I kept thinking about my stepfather..." Somehow he understood, just from those few words. "Gemma..." his voice broke slightly. "God...I'm so sorry!" "No, it's okay. It was a long time ago." "How could you let me..." She put her fingers against his mouth, stopping him. "Don't. There's no comparison at all. Ten years of counseling taught me that." He drew a deep breath and touched her hair gently, smoothing his palm down the thick fall of black curls. "Are you okay now?" "I'm fine, really." He nodded, his jaw tightening. "I almost wish I'd shot the sonofabitch." She shook her head vehemently. "No! Violence is never the answer." He gazed at her for a long moment, and shook his head. "You're wrong. Sometimes it's the only answer." There was a wealth of pain in his voice. She stared at him, wondering what his secret darkness was. Most people had one, but some were darker than others. Why did she think it had something to do with him getting drunk the previous night? "I asked you last night why you were drinking... you said it was an anniversary. What kind of anniversary?" His gaze shadowed, and he closed his eyes for a moment, turning his head. "It was the anniversary of me screwing up and getting someone killed, that's what it was. Two someones." "Oh, goddess, that..." "...hurts." he finished for her. "It hurts." She nodded, and drew him to her. His arms went around her and they stood that way for a while, comforting each other. After a bit Gemma sniffled, and gently disengaged so she could see his face. "So, both of us are kind of a mess, hunh?" He smiled a little and nodded. "Apparently so. What did you mean a minute ago... when I said you were psychic, and you said 'sometimes.'" "Exactly that. Sometimes. Why?" "I was wondering how you knew what I was thinking about." "It didn't take telepathy to see you were hurting, or to equate it with your binge last night. No, my talent is in finding things." "What kind of things?" She shrugged. "Anything. Pens, pencils, jewelry, clothes, software, toys, kids, birth control pills... you name it, I've found it." She expected him to laugh, but he didn't. Instead he nodded. "Does it work on demand, or just erratically?" "Both," she smiled. "Lose anything lately?" He smiled ruefully. "Just my wallet, and my gun." She laughed. "That's easy. On the dresser, in my purse." "Thank god... I was starting to get worried. That was incredibly irresponsible of me. If anything had happened..." "It didn't, so stop worrying about it." He sighed, and nodded. She ducked into the bathroom and got dressed. When she came out he was still standing exactly where she'd left him, looking rather distressed. She handed him his shirt, which he automatically began to put on. "What's wrong now?" she asked as he buttoned it. He looked up, then down again, and even in the awful florescent light she could see he was a little flushed. "I... ah, didn't think about this earlier... speaking of incredibly irresponsible... but when you were talking about finding things, something you mentioned made me think of it. It's too late now, but I thought I should ask..." "Yes," she said, interrupting him, having figured out what he was trying to say. "Yes what?" he looked nonplussed. "Yes, I'm on the pill... otherwise I have very irregular cycles." He looked infinitely relieved. She grinned. "But it was still incredibly irresponsible of us. You'd think neither of us ever heard of s.t.d's." "Well, that you don't have to worry about." "You either. So, now that we've got that settled, let's go eat." #### From: matthewk@spot.Colorado.EDU (MATTHEWS-SIMMONS KELLIE) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: REPOST "Gemma" 2/6 (NC-17) Date: 23 Mar 95 19:49:33 GMT WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated! WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated! The story you are about to read contains SEX, written in loving detail. If that bothers you, either do NOT read this story, or get someone who doesn't mind erotica to black out all the juicy parts for you before you read it. If you're underage, get your parent's permission to read it. Don't flame me if you're silly enough to go ahead and read it after I warned you, and then get offended by it. --kms This story copyright 1994 by the author. Permission to distribute freely is given, provided you do not attempt to sell it. The X-Files is a trademark of Fox Television, characters not used by permission. Kellie Matthews-Simmons//matthewk@ucsu.colorado.edu Member: SFLA&EBS, PSEB, DDEB, X-phile "Ego veno eos in vulcos minos." "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." --Fox Mulder, X-Files "Squeeze" --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gemma (Part II) An X-Files Erotica Kellie Matthews-Simmons "So, what *are* you doing in Colorado, anyway? You're a long way from home," Gemma asked finishing the last of her poblano chili rellenos, having already teased him for not trying them when she'd offered him a bite. Fox rearranged the lettuce shreds around what was left of his burrito with his fork before replying vaguely. "Just investigating a case." "Oh, top secret, hunh?" He laughed. "Hardly. Actually, to be honest, I'm checking out a UFO sighting." She sat forward, intrigued. "The Ken Caryl Ranch sighting?" "How'd you guess that?" "I didn't. I overheard you asking some people about it in the bar on Tuesday. Besides, I'd be surprised if the sightings *didn't* get investigated. Martin Marietta is up there, and they do a lot of defense work. It was a pretty clean sighting, several sherriff's officers saw it too, if I remember that right. There was a MICAP report about it posted on the Net a couple of weeks back by Matt Forest." "Whoa, wait... what report? You know someone who saw it?" "Sort of. I don't know him personally, but I know him electronically," she read his blank look and laughed. "You know, e- mail, bulletin boards, the Internet... the President's infamous 'information superhighway?'" "Actually, no." She stared at him in surprise. "You mean you're not on-line? I'm amazed! I figured the intelligence community would be all over the net... all that free information on the science groups, the conspiracy groups, the paranormal groups, the Star Trek groups..." He grinned. "Sounds right up my alley! I guess I'm behind the times, where do you... how does it work?" "I'm set up for remote access at home... it's all second hand, and it's only a 2400 baud modem so it's kinda slow, but it works. I got it so I could work on my computer courses from home. Why don't you take me home and I'll show you?" "You live nearby?" "Well, near is a relative term, but it's only about twenty-minutes from here." "Hey, where I'm from it takes twenty minutes to go next door! That's close as far as I'm concerned." he picked up the check and stood up. "Come on." She hesitated, and he lifted his eyebrows. "What?" She sighed. "Oh, nothing. I guess really don't need one." "One?" he prompted "They make incredible sopapillas here..." "Incredible what?" She grinned. "Sopapillas. Sit back down. If you've never had one, you've led a deprived life. It won't kill you to wait a few more minutes to be introduced to life in the e-lane." He sat back down. Gemma waved the waitress over and ordered. #### "Okay, you were right. They were incredible," Fox checked his rearview mirror and slowed for a left into the small, neatly-kept trailer park Gemma had indicated. She grinned. "I told you so. Mexican doughnuts. No nutritional value whatsoever." "I like my food that way." She laughed. "Then we have something in common. Okay, turn there, and go all the way to the end of the row. It's the last one" He turned the only way possible and drove slowly, avoiding the occasional squirrel meandering across the road, and rolled to a stop in front of a white trailer with slate trim. He read the name on the mailbox. "G. Birdsong? Is that you?" It dawned on her that until that moment he hadn't known her full name, and felt embarrassed. "Yes, Gemma Birdsong." "Native American?" he guessed. She laughed, shaking her head. "A little bit, along with just about everything else under the sun, though that's not where the name came from. It was Vogelsang when my great-grandparents on my father's side emigrated, and the clerk at Ellis Island translated it." "A common enough event," he reached over and tugged gently on a strand of her hair. "And here I thought I'd found the explanation for the exotic features, not to mention the hair." "Ah, that's a combination of things." "None of which came out of a box, I noticed." It took her a moment, but she got it, and blushed. "Fox!" He grinned. "Sorry, couldn't resist. You were saying?" "My hair... on my mother's side I'm Chinese, Hispanic, Greek and Cheyenne." "Good god! You weren't kidding about everything under the sun, were you?" "Nope. Well, come on, time to go virtual." She opened the car door and got out. As she did a small black woman with beaded braids flew down the steps of the trailer next door and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Gemma! Oh, thank god, you're all right!" Startled, Gemma patted her neighbor on the back reassuringly. "Well of course I am, Beulah! Why wouldn't I be?" Beulah bit her lip. "Oh, hon, your place..." Suddenly afraid, Gemma looked at her door and registered the yellow plastic tape printed with the words "Do Not Enter" across it. She suddenly felt weak-kneed. "Oh no... Goddess, no... what happened?" "Someone broke in last night and tore it up good... I heard the noise and called the police, but by the time they got here he was gone. When you didn't come home last night I was afraid you'd been kidnapped or something! I'm so glad to see you I could cry!" "No, I'm okay, I spent the night with..." she hesitated and glanced at Fox, just getting out of the car. "... a friend." Beulah followed her gaze, and smiled appreciatively. "Nice." "Yeah," Gemma agreed, then turned and took a step toward her stairs. "Is it okay for *me* to go in, or does that sign include me too?" "I don't know, hon. They didn't say." Gemma stared at the door as Fox joined them, looking curiously from her to Beulah. "Is something wrong?" "Beulah says someone broke in last night and wrecked my place!" His eyes narrowed as he looked at the tape that barred entry, then back at Gemma. "Does Carl know where you live?" he asked quietly. She stared at him, feeling herself turn pale as his implication sank in. It was an odd feeling. She nodded slowly. "Yes. My address is on my application." He swore, shaking his head. "He came after you... I don't believe it! He actually came after you!" he turned to Beulah. "Did the investigating officers leave a card? I want to talk to them." Beulah nodded. "They did, I have it on my counter. Come on over, you can use my phone." Gemma resisted. "No, I want to see what he did!" Beulah shook her head, her beads clicking noisily, and took Gemma's arm. "No hon, you don't. Not right now. Come on to my place now." Fox nodded. "She's right, we need to make sure they've completed their investigation before we go in." Gemma shook her head, pulling her arm from Beulah's grasp. "Damnit, it's *my* house! I want to see it!" Fox touched her shoulder lightly, and shook his head. "I know, you do, and you'll get in soon. We just need to be sure it's okay. You wouldn't want to accidently disturb something they might be able to use to convict him, would you?" He made sense, and she knew it. Angrily she wiped her eyes and nodded. "Alright, I'll come." #### An hour later she finally got to enter her house. It was a shambles. Furniture overturned, dishes broken, books thrown all around, the monitor on her computer smashed in... but nothing was missing. It was obvious that the motive had been vandalism, not theft. She picked up a broken statuette, a mother Goddess she'd been given by a friend, and stared at it blindly until Fox came up behind her and put his hands gently over her shoulders. "Gemma, come on, let it go, it's just stuff, and your insurance should cover the broken things, right? You need to let it go." She turned on him angrily. "Don't tell me what I *need*!" He let go instantly and stepped back, holding his hands up, palm out in a gesture of conciliation. "Sorry, bad choice of words. I'm... I just want to help." She bit her lip and sighed, shaking her head. "Oh, Lady... I'm sorry. It's not your fault, but it just makes me so mad! It so... so... damn *male*!" He looked at her silently for a moment and she made a face. "I know, I'm generalizing, and I shouldn't... but what the hell makes him think he has the right to do this to my stuff?" "The same thing that makes him think he has the right to do it to you, which he would have if you'd been here last night. However, try to keep in mind that stupidity has no gender." She was torn between laughing at his observation, and the realization that he was right... if she'd been home Carl would have had her. She shivered. "They said they found fingerprints, right?" "Don't get your hopes up, most of them probably belong to you, or your friends." She nodded, and sighed. "I know," she looked around, feeling helpless. "Goddess, it's such a mess... I don't know where to start." He looked at her curiously. "You use the oddest epithets, you know." She smiled. "I know," she waited a moment, then smiled. "So... you want to know *why*?" He nodded. "I'm Wiccan. You probably don't know what that is, right?" "Wrong. Wicca is an earth-based religion whose primary deity is female, correct?" "Close enough. That's very good, by the way. Most law- enforcement types still think we're Satanists." "Most law-enforcement types never bothered to read up on the subject. I have. When you do psychological profiles of killers for a living, understanding what differentiates a cult from a religion is important. Interesting, I don't think I've ever met a Wiccan in person before." "You probably have, you just don't know it. There are a lot of us, but we tend to stay in the woodwork... too many people just don't, or won't accept us." "Yeah, I can see that it could be a problem." She nodded. With a sigh she picked up three books and put them on the bookshelf, straightened a chair, and put the cushions back on the couch. That took her close to her desk, and she stood staring at her ruined monitor for a moment. "I guess I'm not going to be able to show you how to use the net after all. I'm sorry." "No, don't be. I'm sorry this happened... I feel as if it's my fault." She looked up, surprised. "Why?" "Because I precipitated it... that was pretty obvious." Gemma shook her head. "No, not really. It would have happened sooner or later. Carl's been after me since I started working there, and he's been getting more and more aggressive about it lately. It wasn't your fault any more than it was mine. The only person at fault here is Carl. Are you going to get in trouble?" "What for?" "You told the officers about using your gun to make Carl back off last night, will you get reprimanded or something?" She knelt and began to pick up scattered papers from the floor. "Oh, that. No, they agreed the situation called for intervention." She felt relieved. "Good, I wouldn't want to get you in trouble. Speaking of which... aren't you supposed to be working or something? You don't need to hang around here and watch me clean." When he didn't reply for a moment, she looked up to find him watching her with a troubled expression. "Something wrong?" she prompted. "I don't feel right leaving you alone here. He could come back." She clenched her fists. "You would have to point that out." "I'm sorry... I can't help it. I make my living thinking of possibilities like that." She nodded. "I understand, but I don't have to like it." "Look, you're right, I have things I need to be doing, but I don't feel like I can leave you alone here. Would you be willing to come with me while I work?" She looked at him for a long moment, then shook her head. "Fox, you won't be here forever. Sooner or later you'll have leave." His mouth tightened. "Hopefully by the time I have to leave they'll have arrested him, so I won't have to keep worrying about what he might do to you. Humor me, please?" "I'm just supposed to ride around with you and get in the way, is that it?" "Well, not exactly," he said with obvious amusement. "Maybe you can still help me... I'm used to working with a partner, but she's on vacation right now and I'm on my own." "She?" He grinned. "We're very progressive at the Bureau." "So I see. I'm impressed." "You should be, she's very good." "I don't see how I'm going to be of any use to you, it's not like I know how to do... what you do." "Well, for starters I'd still like to be able to see that report you were talking about, and maybe talk to the person who wrote it. Is there any way to get it without your computer?" "Sure, all I need is a computer equipped with a modem, though a printer would be handy too if you need hard copy." "Can I use your phone? I left mine at my hotel... my first hotel." She looked around. "If I can find it..." she crawled under her desk to find where the phone cord plugged into the outlet, and started pulling on it. Halfway across the room a pile of books moved. "There it is," she backed out from beneath the furniture and sat up to find him regarding her with a broad grin. "What? Have I got something on my face?" "No, but for future reference you probably shouldn't crawl around on your hands and knees in that skirt." She laughed ruefully. "I forgot what I was wearing... sorry." "Oh, don't be... not at all," his expression nearly took her breath away, reminding her forcefully of how he'd felt against her, inside her... She blushed and handed him the phone. "Speaking my clothes, I want to get out of these, I'm going to go and change." He nodded, digging in his pocket for something. She picked her way through the mess to the narrow hallway that led to the bedroom. Thankfully the hall was clear of debris, and when she opened the door to her room she was relieved to see that it hadn't been torn apart like the living room. Quickly she undressed, then lingered a moment over what to wear, finally opting for the dark peach sandwashed-silk shirt she'd splurged on a couple of months earlier, and her black Indian gauze skirt with mirror-spangles embroidered around the hem. She didn't bother with a bra, and the silk felt very sensuous against her skin, reminding her again of that morning. This time, alone, she let herself remember, which soon had her wishing he'd put the phone down and come in. After a minute she laughed at herself, and sat down on the bed to tie the laces of her sandals. As she pushed herself upright, her hand brushed something, and she looked down to see what it was. A patch of some dry, whitish stuff was crusted on her bedspread. She stared at it, trying to figure out what might have caused it, then felt nauseated as she realized what it was. Jumping up she ran to the bathroom and washed her hands repeatedly, shaking with anger and revulsion. To her disgust she realized she was crying again. Fox must have heard her, because he was there suddenly, drawing her against him in an embrace she found immensely comforting. She put her arms around him, getting water all over his suit, and hid her face against his chest, gulping air, trying to calm down. "Hey, come on, it'll be all right. Don't let it get to you." "He..." she started, then her voice broke. She tried again. "He... on the bed..." Fox looked down the hall toward her bedroom, scowling, and pulled away to go and look. A moment later he was back. "Don't be too upset about it, sweetheart. Yes, it's disgusting, but it might also be exactly what we needed because they can run a DNA match on it. I'll call Detective Delano and tell him what we found." For some reason it struck her as funny. Carl, convicted by his own bodily fluids! She laughed, and Fox grinned. "That's better. I've arranged for you to be able to use a computer at the Denver main office, we can go there as soon as you're ready." She nodded. "I'll be out in a minute." She rinsed her face with cold water, debated putting on makeup, and decided against it. Why start now? Closing the door, she used the facility for its intended purpose, washed her hands yet again, and then joined him in the living room. "Do you have an overnight bag?" "Yes, why?" "I'd like you to stay with me tonight." She instinctively started to demur, then stopped. She *wanted* to stay with him, why pretend otherwise? "Okay, I'll just be a minute." The look of surprise on his face almost made her laugh as she braved the bedroom again to throw some clothes into her bag. He'd obviously expected a fight. #### "So, this is the Denver office of the FBI?" Gemma asked, looking around with interest. "Impressive, isn't it?" Fox said, deadpan. She grinned. "If you like government interior decorating." "You think this is good, you should see *my* office." "Oooh, I'll bet it's exciting!" "Absolutely! The best basement in Washington." "Basement, eh? So that's how you keep your lovely pallor?" "Hey, don't get personal!" She laughed. "But I like it, it's so... luminous." "Luminous? Geez, I *glow*? I think I'll buy a membership to a tanning spa." "Don't. You'll ruin your skin." "I know. So, have you got everything you need?" She looked at the computer in front of her and nodded. "I think so. You're sure..." she paused and read the nameplate on the desk. "...Agent Jamison doesn't mind me using his computer?" "I'm sure. I bribed him." "With what?" "I told him you'd try to find a lost file for him." She lifted an eyebrow. "You promised him *I* would do it? You're pretty generous with my favors there, bud." "Hey, I only said you'd try, I didn't say you'd do it!" "Well... okay. This time." Amazingly, Gemma was able to get a line on the first try. Within minutes she had printed out the file containing the sighting report, and contacted the person who had written it requesting an interview. That done, she took Fox on a brief tour of the newsgroups she thought he might find interesting. He did. By the time he'd finished reading all the articles that had caught his attention, almost an hour had passed, and an answer from Matt Forest had arrived on her e-mail. He would be happy to be interviewed, but he lived in Fort Collins. They agreed to meet in Boulder, which was almost equidistant for both parties. After she logged off she managed to find the lost file, which had been saved under a considerably misspelled version of what it's creator *thought* he'd named it. Agent Jamison reclaimed his computer, and she found an empty desk to sit at while she watched Fox talk shop with some of the local agents and wished she'd brought something to do. She was getting bored. She started to daydream, and found herself getting a little flushed. She hadn't intended to continually replay the morning's events, but it was nearly impossible to resist doing so. For distraction she began doodling on a blank notepad, absently sketching trees, a creek, a large rock, something under a tree that looked like a shoebox. The next shape to flow from the pencil disturbed her. It looked almost like a skeletal hand. She shivered, wondering what dark corner of her subconscious that had come from. She tore off the page and was about to throw it in the trash when someone reached over her shoulder and picked it up. "Where did you get this?" She looked up to find a fortyish, dark-haired man staring at the sketch with narrowed eyes. "I drew it, just now, why?" He didn't answer, instead he looked over at the trio of men with Fox. "Hey, Don, come over here." One of the men looked up and nodded, then crossed to where she sat. "Look at this." The first man handed her sketch to the second. He studied it for a moment, and his eyebrows lifted. "Where'd you find it?" "She says she drew it." Both of them looked at her suspiciously. "Why'd you go in the conference room?" "I didn't. I've just been sitting here, waiting for Fox... Agent Mulder, I mean." "Then how did you see the photos?" the first man asked. "What photos?" "And what're these?" the second man asked, pointing at what she'd thought looked like a shoebox, and the skeletal hand. "I don't know! I was just drawi..." she looked at it again, then up at them, and knew, suddenly. "Oh, shit..." "What's the matter here? Is something wrong?" She looked up gratefully as Fox's presence caused them to move away from her a little bit, giving her more space. She bit her lip, and gestured to the drawing. "I.. ah... I think I just 'found' something." "Found something? What?" "I'm not sure yet, maybe a body?" she shuddered. "Ugh, I've never done that before. I didn't mean to... it just happened. Someone must have been thinking about it being lost, and I picked up on it." She saw the two men she didn't know exchange a meaning-filled glance, then one of them turned to Fox. "Can we talk to you for a minute... in private?" "Sure," he touched her shoulder reassuringly and followed them into a room a couple of doors away. She fidgeted nervously until he came out a few minutes later, and walked over to her. "Have you ever consulted on a criminal investigation before?" "No, never, why?" "Because, you may have just started. I think I've managed to convince them you're legit." "What? What are you talking about?" "They've been looking for a box, near the site you sketched. You didn't find a body, they already knew about that. What you may have found was the box. They're going to go up and see if they can find it where you sketched it." She stared at him, "They are? Why would they believe me?" "Because you're with me, and I have kind of a... reputation." "For what?" "You don't want to know. But if we don't get out of here now, we're going to miss our rendezvous with Mr. Forest," he put a hand under her elbow and urged her to her feet, steering her toward the door. "What's the fastest way to get to Boulder from here?" "Speer Boulevard to I-25, to U.S. 36. What do you mean I don't want to know?" she asked as they headed down the stairs toward the parking lot. "Well, let me put it this way. Behind my back, they like to call me Spooky." "Spooky? That's cute." "It's *not* meant to be endearing," he said severely. "Oh. I still think it's cute." "Remember how you told me you hate being called cute?" "Yeah." "So do I." She grinned. "I'll keep that in mind." #### #### "So, what was your favorite part of Boulder?" Gemma asked, much later, after their meeting, and dinner, and a stroll along the downtown pedestrian mall. "I don't know... maybe the beer sampler at the Walnut Brewery? I never had raspberry beer before. But then there was the barefoot electronic violinist in the white tuxedo on the mall, it's hard to say which was better. Um.... do you have to drive this fast?" "Fast?" Gemma glanced over at him, saw he was clutching the armrest and smiled. "Fox, I am not driving fast, I'm barely doing thirty. Don't be such a flatlander." He swallowed heavily. "Thirty is pretty fast when you're going straight up." "This is hardly straight up." "Where exactly are we going again?" "Just up Flagstaff Mountain road to the amphitheater." "Why?" "You can't come to the People's Republic of Boulder and not drive up Flagstaff at night, I think it's against the law or something. Once we're there you'll see why. It's worth it." "Okay. Mind if I just close my eyes 'til we get there?" "Go right ahead, just don't fall asleep." "Not a chance." he said through gritted teeth. She turned on the radio and fiddled with it for a moment, looking for a station she liked. "I don't suppose you could keep both hands on the wheel..." Fox asked plaintively. She laughed and finished tuning the radio, then placed both hands conspicuously on the wheel. He relaxed a little, but not completely until she pulled into a parking spot and set the brake. "Have we landed?" "Safe and sound. Come on, it's a bit of a walk from here." "You didn't say anything about hiking in the dark," he said dubiously. "It's not a hike, it's a walk, down a gravel road. Come on. You're not getting out of this." He sighed loudly, but followed gamely along after her. He stopped suddenly when they reached the amphitheater itself and stood at the top of the irregular flagstone steps that led down to the platform-like stage area. "Wow..." She stopped, eyes serious in the dim light. "Wait, just wait. Close your eyes, I'll lead you." She put an arm around his waist and guided him the rest of the way with great care, warning him of every bump and dip along the way. They descended, crossed a flat space, then ascended again before she finally stopped. She turned him carefully, standing behind him with her hands on his shoulders. "You can open your eyes now." He did, and gasped. "Incredible!" For answer she slid her arms around his waist and hugged him from behind. From their vantage point, the lights of nearly every city along the front range spread out like glowing jewels on a necklace as far as the eye could see to the east, north, and south. Behind them the mountains loomed, blocking the view west. A ribbon of moving lights to the south marked the highway they'd driven in on. "What's that?" he asked, pointing toward a peculiar patch of orangey-pink light glowing in the sky west of the road. "That? That's the Rocky Flats Nuclear Weapons Facility. Probably what your aliens were here checking out." Fox chuckled. "Not if they're smart," he peeled her hands from around his waist and drew her around in front of him. "Thanks for bringing me up here, even if I did have to suffer through the drive up to see it. From the highest point in D.C. you can see all of about three blocks in any given direction... this is staggering." Gemma found her eyes stinging suspiciously, and smiled. "I hoped you would like it." He pulled her close, one hand spread across the small of her back, the other slid beneath her hair and tilted her head so he could kiss her. She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back eagerly, letting him sway her body into his, feeling his sudden response against her stomach. She rubbed against him, enjoying the feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him. Somewhere inside a part of her was warning her not to get involved, that there was no future in it, but she ruthlessly ignored it. It didn't matter. Sometimes all that mattered was *now*. He lifted his mouth from hers and took a deep breath, a shiver rippling through him. His hands gently massaged her hips as he brushed his lips across her hair and sighed. "Right now I really wish we didn't have a forty-five minute drive ahead of us." She slid her hands down his chest and hooked her fingers in his belt, leaning into him. "Me too." "I suppose it's too much to hope that this place stays deserted all night..." She looked up at him, eyes wide. Could he possibly mean what she thought he meant? The intensity of his gaze told her he did. She shivered and blushed. "A lot of people come up here at night..." "Here, precisely?" "The best view is from the stage." "How about there?" he nodded toward the stone benches at the very back of the amphitheater where the shadows were lush. Her heart started to beat a little faster. "Well, no, not there." He took her hand and drew her into the eclipse, leading her to the where the darkness was thickest before he picked her up and lay her back on one of the benches. She let her feet rest on the ground on either side of the bench, open, as he lifted her skirt in handfuls to bare her legs. He pressed a line of kisses along her inner thigh, then lifted his head. "Your skirt is full of stars..." he murmured. She touched one of the mirror spangles and smiled. "So it is." He moved forward and kissed her again, his tongue sliding over the sensitive inner surfaces of her mouth, tasting her unrestrained response. His hands slid beneath her skirt again, traced the right leg opening of her panties from between her thighs to her hip, until his hands closed around the fabric on either side of the seam. He made a quick, powerful movement and she felt and heard the seam give way. She shuddered and grabbed his head, pulling him down so she could kiss him wildly, tongues twining, teeth clashing. A moment later she felt him tear the seam on the other side and lifted her hips so he could remove them. His fingers were shaking as he touched the moist warmth of her sex, coaxing a soft cry from her lips. She arched up into his touch, her own hands searching, finding, opening. She slid her hands beneath the soft cotton of his boxers to find the silky heat of his hard male flesh. She took a moment to touch him, delighting in his gasp of excitement as she caressed him. Lifting one knee she braced her foot against the bench to try to bring him down to her, and suddenly realized the bench was too narrow to really function as it needed to. A moment's thought presented an alternative. She sat up and patted the bench. "Fox, sit down." "Why?" "Just do it." He grinned, but sat. Gemma stood up, and straddled his knees, lifting her skirt. She took his hands and put them on her hips to hold the fabric out of the way and used her own hands to free him from his clothing, then eased herself down, her fingers guiding him. His head fell back as she took him into her, a soft moan breaking from his lips, his fingers digging into her hips. She leaned down to kiss him, licking softly at his lips and tongue as she rocked above him, making little sounds of pleasure. He let her skirt fall once he was fully contained within her, and the breeze ruffled it around their legs, concealing them even from the night. She lifted her mouth from his and leaned back, hooking her fingers over his shoulders as an anchor, riding him. "Gemma... god, you feel so good..." he whispered, his fingers slipping the buttons on her blouse from their buttonholes so he could spread it open. His lips were warm and the night air cool, the contrast made her shiver. When he lifted his head the moisture his tongue had left on her skin became cold as the wind touched it. He repeated the caress on her other breast, drew back a moment, waiting. then touched his tongue to one taut nipple again. This time his mouth felt hot in contrast to her chilled skin. She whimpered, grinding her hips down against him as a wave of pleasure spread outward from where their bodies joined. He put his arms around her and drew her close, his mouth just below her ear. "Shhh... I think we have company..." he whispered. Still dizzy with release, it took her a moment to understand what he'd said. It wasn't until she heard voices that it sank in. She stiffened, listening intently. Several voices... both male and female. She didn't move, frozen in place, as the newcomers navigated the steps only a hundred feet away. She could make out five people . They walked up to the stage and stood looking out over the valley, exclaiming over the view. A hot blush suffused her and she trembled, trying to remain still despite his strong, insistent presence within her, terrified of discovery. "Don't make a sound and they won't even know we're here," Fox whispered against her ear. She nodded silently. Suddenly she felt his fingers slide beneath the crumpled fabric of her skirt and move across her thigh, into the damp curls, then into the crease between her legs, over slick, heated flesh; touching the supersensitive bud of her clitoris. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as he moved his hand slowly, gently, stimulating her unbearably. She moved reflexively, then froze again, but couldn't keep still for long. As he continued to torment her she started to shift against him in tiny undulations. Afraid of giving away their presence, she couldn't protest, or moan, or make any of the sounds she wanted to make... needed to make. She clenched her teeth as his other hand slipped into her shirt to caress her breasts, and his lips moved softly against her neck, his tongue tracing fiery patterns on her skin. The tension inside her kept building, and building... only to be short-circuited time and again by the fear of discovery. It was the most intense sexual experience she'd ever had, taking her light-years past where she'd normally have given in to the need and found release, yet somehow she couldn't. She started to shake uncontrollably as the dark figures on the stage began to walk back up toward the parking area. They would notice, surely they would notice... they didn't. Laughing and joking among themselves they passed the entwined couple, oblivious. Soon all that remained of them was the muted sounds they made. "Now," Fox said softly, urgently. "Now, Gemma." She gasped, pushing hard against him, clutching at his hips as she took him deep. "Now!" Pleasure exploded through her, pulsing; fire licking along every nerve, overwhelmingly ecstatic. She keened softly, feeling his hands on her hips again as he moved her on him, extending the stimulus, extending her response as he reached for his own. A moment later he shuddered and sighed, and she knew he'd reached his own fulfillment as well. She leaned against him, panting, and lifted a hand to brush away the tears she hadn't realized were there until that moment. They sat there in total silence for a long time, until finally Fox broke the quiet. "That was..." he began; she interrupted. "Evil... mean, nasty, cruel, heartless, beastly... inhuman!" she finished for him. He leaned back until he could see her face, and relaxed as he saw her smile. "You scared me for a minute there." "I meant to. It's little enough revenge," she shook him slightly. "How could you do that to me?" "Well I could show you if you want me to..." She sighed and leaned her forehead against his. "Never mind, it was fantastic. But if you ever do that to me again I'll murder you." He grinned, his teeth gleaming faintly in the darkness. "Y'know, things described as 'fantastic' aren't usually punishable by death." "No jury would convict me! I was terrified they'd see us!" "But they didn't..." "No thanks to you! I still don't know how I kept quiet!" "By channeling all that energy into sensation instead." "I find things, I don't channel," she said drily. He laughed. "Hey, that's good! It's nice to find someone with a sense of humor." "Yeah, it is," she tilted her head and kissed him softly on the mouth. He returned it just as softly, a kiss of tender fulfillment instead of desperate passion. Lifting her head a moment later, she sighed. "I need to move, I'm getting a cramp in my leg." He nodded, and steadied her as she stood up, and made a face as the inevitable result of lovemaking manifested messily. "Damn, now I wish I had my panties back," she sighed. He reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out what she thought at first was a handkerchief, but as he dangled it from his fingers she saw what it was and started to laugh. Her panties... or rather what was left of them. "Planning on keeping them as a souvenir?" she inquired. "Thought I'd have 'em bronzed," he returned smoothly. She giggled and reached for them, putting a foot on the bench. He refused to relinquish them, pulling them out of reach. "Allow me..." he put his hand beneath her skirt and gently removed the excess moisture, exactly as she'd planned to do. She turned her face away, blushing hotly. None of her lovers had ever done anything so astonishingly intimate for her before. "Better?" he queried softly. She whispered her thanks, unable to muster a normal voice, and busied herself buttoning her blouse as he straightened his own clothes. "Did that embarrass you?" he asked shrewdly after a moment. "I... yes." "Why?" "I... don't know." "Fair enough, I guess. Ready to go back?" She nodded. He found her hand and threaded his fingers through hers as they walked. #### It was late when they got back to his hotel. Gemma was a bit surprised to find it was considerably less plush than the La Quinta they'd occupied the night before. She'd somehow expected him to be staying someplace expensive. Fox laughed when she told him, and reminded her he was on a government expense account. The message light on his phone was glaring redly. He picked up the handset, dialed the desk, and started scribbling notes. She used the bathroom and got ready for bed, feeling oddly nervous. Despite their having made love, it felt peculiar to be getting ready to sleep with him... more familiar than she was completely comfortable with. But this room had only one bed, so there was no question about sharing a bed. It was a given. Taking a deep breath she opened the bathroom door and spent a moment hanging up her clothes before she turned toward him. He was sitting at the table now, still writing. He looked up as she walked toward the bed and smiled welcomingly. Something was different about him... glasses! He was wearing glasses. On him they were sexy. What a peculiar concept. "Guess what?" "What?" "You were dead-on. They found the box buried about six inches down, exactly where you sketched it. They're impressed. Oh, and Agent Jamison said you saved him a month's work by finding that file, and he wants to have your baby." He said it so deadpan she didn't even realize what he'd said for several seconds. When it finally sank in she started to laugh helplessly and had to sit down on the bed because she couldn't breathe. He grinned, waiting for her to control herself. She finally managed it and shook her head. "Tell him thanks, but no thanks. The last thing I need right now is another mouth to feed." He gazed at her searchingly, the smile gone, the instant changeability of his emotions taking her by surprise. "You're really in financial difficulties?" She sighed, not really wanting to get into it, but knowing he wouldn't let it go. He was as tenacious as a terrier! "Not yet, but I'm certainly not going to go back to work at the Hi-Lo, so it's back to looking for a job. Not my favorite thing. I have a little in savings, but that goes pretty quick when there's nothing coming in." He looked at her thoughtfully, tapping his pen against his lips. "Their receptionist is moving to Texas." "Hunh?" she blinked at his non-sequitur. "Agent Chavez mentioned that their receptionist is moving to Texas in two weeks. They haven't hired a replacement. Ever do any clerical work?" "Are you serious?" "Of course I am. It's partly my fault you're out of work. If you hadn't tried to help me you'd probably be fine. You haven't answered my question." "I've done everything from flipping burgers at McDonalds to the front desk of a law office. You could say I've done clerical work, yes." "Ever take the GS test?" "What's that?" her question effectively answered his. "The Government Service exam. Tomorrow I'll find out for you when the next one is scheduled. Until then, maybe they can hire you as a temp." "Why would they want to hire me? They don't know anything about me!" He grinned. "They'd want to hire you because Agent Jamison is their agent-in-charge, that's why. Plus you just gave them invaluable assistance on a stalled investigation. They might occasionally ask you to 'find' things, though. Would that be a problem?" "I... don't know, I never thought of it as a job skill before," she shook her head, confused and tired. The past two days had been rough... emotions running at unaccustomed levels, and her routines shot to hell. She sighed, shaking her head. "It's too late for this, I need sleep." He didn't argue with her, letting the subject drop. "Can you sleep if this light is on? I have some work to do before I turn in." "I think so," she yawned widely. "In fact, I'm sure of it." Gemma turned back the covers and slipped into the bed, running her bare feet over the sheets, relishing the feel of their clean crispness against her skin. With a sigh she relaxed back, letting the bed take her weight, trying to decide how she wanted to sleep. After a moment she turned onto her side facing away from the light, and slid an arm beneath her pillow. Before she could reach for the covers to pull them up, he was there doing it for her. She smiled as he covered her, making sure she was comfortably tucked beneath them. "You're awfully sweet, Fox. How come you're not taken?" He leaned down and kissed her forehead, then stood up with a sigh, his face oddly shadowed. "I am." Instinctively she knew he wasn't talking about a woman. Something else possessed him, something infinitely more complex. She wanted to comfort him, but knew he wouldn't let her. "Maybe someday it'll let you go." "Maybe," he didn't sound as if he thought it was much of a possibility. "...someday." She reached out and touched his fingers with hers, just to let him know he wasn't alone. He smiled. "Go to sleep now." She nodded and drew her hand back under the covers, content. #### She'd been wrong the night before, Gemma thought, curled around Fox's warmth like a cat. She could get used to sleeping with him, it was seductively comfortable. She wondered what time he'd finally come to bed. It must have been late, because she'd been awake for at least half an hour, just savoring the presence of him, and he'd shown no signs at all of waking. She lifted her head and looked over his shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. Nine-thirty. She wasn't sure, but she suspected he was normally up much earlier than this. She remembered waking up the previous morning with his hand between her thighs... just thinking about it roused an insistent warmth low in her belly. He was a damned good lover, almost too good. He made her forget everything but what she was feeling. She had been almost passive each time, letting him pleasure her, and doing next to nothing to return the favor. Once he got started, her ability to think rationally seemed to disappear. She smiled wickedly. Well... this time, she'd get started first, and see who stayed rational. Easing away, Gemma carefully lifted the covers off him and folded them to the bottom of the bed, exposing the entire splendid length of him as he lay on his side, knees drawn up slightly. He frowned a little in his sleep as his body registered the change in temperature, but didn't wake. She nuzzled the back of his neck, and licked the delectable spot behind his ear that somehow cried out for attention. He shivered, and curled up a bit tighter. Grinning, she let her fingers play up and down his long, muscular thighs; over the firm, shallow curves of his buttocks; over the little indentations below his hips. He was sparsely furred, she could actually feel the warm satin of his skin beneath her fingers, rather than a mat of wiry hair. Turning, she rubbed her lips over his hip, then her teeth, then her tongue, loving the way he tasted, the way he smelled. He shifted restlessly, turning onto his back, which was just as well, since it made it easier for her to reach him. She knelt beside him and leaned down to kiss the hollow of his throat, then the ridge of his collarbone, then the flat, coin-like circle of one nipple. Though his head moved on the pillow, his breathing was still deep, and even. She circled his other nipple with a dampened fingertip while she kissed the first again, openmouthed. He made a sound, almost a purr. She trailed her tongue across to the base of his sternum, then down an imaginary longitude line running the length of his torso; past the dip of his navel, over the flat plane of his stomach, into the silky curls that surrounded his half-erect penis. His mind might not be awake, but his body was well on the way to being so. For the time being she bypassed his sex and moved to the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, using her teeth lightly. His muscles tensed slightly... he was definitely waking up now, she could hear the change in his breathing too. Determined to wake him as pleasurably as he had woken her the day before, she nudged his thighs apart and lay between them, lowering her head to brush hot, soft kisses all over his thighs and belly, easing ever closer to her goal. She could feel the tempo of his heartbeat against her lips, not so slow now. He moaned faintly, half-waking, half-sleeping, completely hers. Her fingers found the heavy fullness below his sex, petting, stroking. He shifted, curving up into her touch, asking for more... She gave it. Brushing her lips down the hot, rigid length of his shaft, she traced her tongue along the slight indentation that ran the length of him on the way back up, then took him into the moist warmth of her mouth. He moaned, suddenly fully awake, in every sense of the word. His hands lifted toward her, as if uncertain whether to pull her away or urge her closer, then fell limp to the bed as she suckled him, causing him to lift instinctively into the pleasure she gave. His fingers clutched and released the sheet beneath him as he fought for control, and lost. "Gem... Gemma... ah god, woman you're killing me..." She lifted her head for a breath, smiling, her fingers taking over the rhythm instead. "Only a little." She lowered her head again, fingers, lips, tongue all working to reduce him to a shuddering heap of sensation. His breath caught on a sob as her teeth grazed him lightly. "Yeah, oh... yeah." This was fun! She could feel herself growing slick with passion as his pleasure stirred hers. She wanted him. Oh goddess, she wanted him, deep inside, easing the burgeoning ache there... but that would be giving in to her own greed, She resisted, and set up a strong cadence, her own body moving against the bed in the same tempo. His hands lifted, fingers sliding into the thick softness of her hair, caressing, following, but not shoving her down onto him like some men had in the past. She felt the tension in him growing, felt the distinctive response that heralded a man's release, he was almost there, right at the edge. "Gemma..." he rasped. "I want to be inside you." She lifted her head. "You'd rather that, than this?" she asked, swirling her tongue around the blunt tip, down the side of him, back up again. He gasped, panting, unable to answer for a moment before he found his voice. "Want to... please you too." "You are," she whispered, and lowered her head again. Before she could take him in again, he moved suddenly, his hands beneath her arms as he pulled her roughly up his length. She gasped in surprise, and his mouth closed over hers, tongue driving in, licking, caressing. He turned with her in his arms, so she was below him, his knee between her legs. For a moment she yielded, rubbing herself on his thigh, opening to let him in, then she remembered that wasn't what she'd been planning and her stubborn streak manifested. She managed to squirm away and grabbed his hips, laughing as she pushed him over and bent toward him again. He laughed too, low, and sensual, as he twined his legs around hers and flipped her onto her stomach. She got to her knees to turn over again, but he slid one arm around her waist and the other across her chest just below her breasts, and drew her tight against him instead. She stilled suddenly as a wave of pure desire swept her. What did it matter who was where, as long as they were both satisfied? She leaned back against him, signalling her surrender. His arms loosened around her, moved, his hands cupping her breasts, teasing her aching nipples. He began to kiss her neck and shoulders, his hips moving against hers, the hard length of his erection pressed against the soft curves of her rear. She wanted him so badly she could almost feel him opening her, sliding inside... she leaned forward, bracing her hands against the wall, and shifted her thighs wider apart. He didn't need asking. His fingers moved between her thighs, parting her, stroking, teasing, until she thought she might die of wanting him, then finally he was entering her. She sighed in pleasure as he started to move, slow, languid strokes that filled her to perfection. She shook her head, he'd done it to her again. She was taking, not giving. Before she could really dwell on it he shifted one knee forward slightly and his hands moved down to hold her, pulling her back against him as his tempo changed, hardened. His urgency was contagious. She pushed against him, taking him deep, rolling her hips, arching as she felt the heat rising, intensifying... then it was there, flooding over her in surging breakers. It wasn't until he eased them down to the welcome support of the bed she that realized they'd finished together. His breathing was gradually slowing, like her own, their bodies slick with sweat where they were pressed tight together, still one. He nuzzled her hair out of the way and rubbed his cheek against the back of her neck, sighing. She heard him take a breath to speak, but before he could do so a shrill beeping sound startled them both into tense awareness. He gently drew away and kissed her on the shoulder as he rolled to his feet and grabbed something out of his briefcase on the table. "Mulder... yeah," she realized it was a cellular phone and relaxed. Eyes closed, body slowly cooling, she half-listened as he spoke to someone on the other end, just letting the rough velvet texture of his voice flow over her. "No, damn it! Where? About what time? No, that's alright. Yes, I will. You have? Give me the flight information..." he grabbed a legal pad off the table and scribbled something on it. "Okay, I'll be there. Thanks, Scully." She tensed, knowing what was coming. It was obvious. He thumbed the phone off and ran a hand through his hair, then lifted shadowed eyes to her. "I have to go back to D.C. right away." She nodded and sat up. It had only been a matter of time. For some reason it was easier to deal with the actuality of his leaving than with the anticipation of it. "I'll get dressed. I can take the bus home." "No, I don't want you going back there alone. He could still..." The room phone rang, interrupting him. With a look of intense frustration he grabbed it. "Mulder," he said, his voice crisper this time, more authoritative. There was a moment's quiet as he listened to the caller, when he spoke again he sounded shocked. "You're kidding! Last night? How? That's unbelievable... thanks. I really appreciate the call." He set the phone down and turned to her again. "You're never going to believe this..." "What?" "Carl Coby's not going to be bothering you any more." "Did they catch him?" "Not exactly.... He got drunk last night and plowed his car into a median barrier. He's dead." It took a moment to sink in. When it did she felt the blood drain from her face, and was glad she was sitting down. "Dead?" He nodded and moved to sit beside her. "You okay?" "I... I... yeah, but... dead? I never wanted him dead... I just wanted him to leave me alone!" her eyes filled with tears despite the fact that Carl had tried to hurt her. He'd been alive, and now he wasn't. Fox put his arms around her and held her gently "I know you didn't. It just happened, Gemma, don't blame yourself. It had nothing to do with you." "I know, I know, but somehow it feels like it must have..." "Just think of it as karma." She was silent for a moment, considering, then she nodded. "The law of threefold returns. Whatever you do will return to you threefold, whether for good, or ill." "Hey, I like that... that's better than the golden rule." "I always thought so." His hand stroked her hair softly, comfortingly, and they sat there for awhile in silence. Finally he drew back. "Why don't you shower first? I have a couple of phone calls to make." "Sure, thanks," she picked up her overnight bag as he retrieved his cell-phone and started to dial. She watched him a moment, smiling at the incongruity of him conducting business utterly naked, and slipped into the bathroom to shower and change. #### Gemma looked at the clock and sighed, turning off the television. Ten minutes after midnight, and like Cinderella, she was missing a certain handsome prince. Silly girl. She'd known what kind of a relationship it would be right from the start, she'd harbored no illusions, but still, she missed him. Missed his dry humor, his chameleon emotions, the hard warmth of his body.... She took a last sip of the burgundy she'd poured an hour earlier, and stood to put the empty glass in the sink, looking around the room. She almost couldn't tell it had been ransacked a day earlier. Only her broken monitor remained mutely accusing. If not for that she could almost believe she'd dreamed it all. That, and the agreeable ache low in her body that reminded her she'd been well pleasured more times in the past two days than she had in her life. She was definitely going to miss him. They hadn't spent enough time together to see if they were really compatible any way but sexually, but that had been spectacular. She yawned and headed back toward her room, unbuttoning her blouse, tugging it out of her jeans. She still couldn't quite believe it. No more waiting tables in a dingy redneck bar and going home black and blue with pinch-marks. She was starting temp work for the very grateful Agent Jamison on Monday, and was scheduled to take the government service exam in three weeks. Those were the phone calls he'd made while she showered that morning. She still felt vaguely as if she'd gotten the job a bit nepotistically... but then, there was no guarantee that she'd pass the test or get hired permanently. And it wasn't like she couldn't do the work. She'd also found out that they'd pay part of her tuition if she got on full-time, which was beyond anything she could have expected. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and pulled on an old oversized tee-shirt to sleep in. As she turned back the brand new comforter she'd bought earlier in the day the phone rang, startling her badly. Who would be calling her after midnight? The only calls people ever got after midnight were pranks and emergencies. Gingerly she picked up the handset. "Hello?" There was a tiny pause, then; "Hi," even the cheap phone couldn't disguise rough silk of that voice. For a moment she couldn't speak, she was too surprised. "Fox?" she finally managed. He sounded tired. "Congratulations, you got it on the first try. Did I wake you?" "No, no I was just getting ready to go to bed." "Good." "Where are you?" "Um... jus' a sec..." there was a rustling noise, then he was back. "The Hide-Inn-Seek, someplace in upstate New York... I'm afraid I've forgotten the name of the town." She laughed. Leave it to him to take her literally. "Fox, it's after two in the morning there!" He sighed. "Tell me about it, I just got in." "Poor baby, long day, hunh" "Very." "Is... is everything okay?" "Yeah, I just..." he paused, and laughed softly. "I just wanted to say goodnight." She smiled mistily. "Goodnight?" "Yeah, I was thinking about you." "I was thinking about you. But you should be in bed." "I am. I plan on dreaming of this morning, myself." Her fingers itched to touch him. "Me too." "Good, see you there. Sweet dreams." There was a soft click, then dial tone. She stared at the phone for a moment, then put it down, still smiling, and turned out the light. #### -- Kellie Matthews-Simmons matthewk@spot.colorado.edu