From: skeeter@bcinet.net Date: Thu, 20 May 1999 22:19:55 -0400 Subject: xfc: NEW! "Momentum" by Robby Keofe (1 of 2) Source: xfc TITLE: Momentum AUTHOR: Robby Keofe FEEDBACK: C'mon, write me! You know you want to. RATING: PG-13, I guess. ARCHIVE: Sure!! Just tell me where. CATEGORY: SR, a little bit o' A; I hope it's a *little* funny, but if you don't laugh, we'll pretend this 'H' was never here, k? KEYWORDS: MSR SPOILERS: Cancer arc, mentions of "Never Again," some other stuff, though it's set post- "HAD." DISCLAIMER: M & S = not mine. SUMMARY: "If you had to pick a moment, one single moment in time that made you realize that this was real, this was special, that this thing we share is the most magical, beautiful thing in all the world, which would it be?" AUTHOR'S NOTES: I've been churning these stories out like crazy, huh? You'd think I worked in a fanfic sweat shop somewhere. Hope you like it. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ MOMENTUM by robby keofe (Part 1 of 2) "This is the nicest hotel in the whole world," Scully said slowly, with complete reverence as she lay on the bed of their four-star L.A. hotel room. Mulder glanced up from 'Jeopardy' when she spoke. "Shhh, Scully, it's time for Double Jeopardy," he said, shock registering on his features, as though he was truly amazed she'd even *consider* interrupting the Double Jeopardy round. "What?" "Scully, shhh. Mitch from Rhode Island is going for a Daily Double, and if he gets it he'll lead by $16,400." Scully raised her eyebrows at the personal way Mulder discussed Mitch, an oddly hairy man. He looked like one of those dog-people from Mexico, she decided. They sat in silence for a moment, and Scully watched Mulder's excitement as Mitch from Rhode Island got the question correct. "Oh, yeah!" Mulder exclaimed. "Mitch is gonna win!" Scully's eyebrows arched toward her hairline, but she said nothing. He stared at the TV, completely ignoring her. "Mulder, do you want another Coke?" Scully asked, heading for the room's little refrigerator. He'd completely tuned her out. She sighed, got herself another bottle of Evian, and returned to her spot on the bed. In the two seconds since she'd left Mulder had snatched one of the pillows she'd been laying on. It was moments like these when she had to remind herself why she loved him so much. God forbid he make the trek from her bed to his bed in the adjoining room to get one of his own damn pillows. "Yeah, Mulder, you can borrow a pillow," she said sarcastically. He was still ignoring her, instead focusing on the show. "There are aliens outside," she lied, attempting to get his attention. "I was raped by an alien last night," she said, a little louder. Still no response. "I want to have hot monkey sex with you," she announced. Nothing. Three minutes passed. As a commercial break kicked off, he turned to her. "Huh?" he asked, a vacant look on his face. She shook her head slowly. His gaze returned to the TV. "Oh, time for Final Jeopardy," he gleefully muttered to himself. She was learning a lot about him tonight. He talked himself through 'Jeopardy.' Interesting. "Oooh, I know this!" he yelped as Trebek revealed the question. Alex Trebek scared Scully. He was like a robot. "It's law!" Mulder announced, leaping up. "No, it's not!" Scully shrieked. "It's medicine! Chekhov had a degree in medicine!" "No, he didn't! It was law!" "It was medicine, Mulder! Grisham has the degree in law," she said, smiling faintly. She'd meant the last part as a joke, but he stared at her blankly. "Fine, if I'm right and you're wrong, what do you give me?" "I'll be your love slave," he said, mock-seriously, a perverse grin twitching on his face. "Nah, something good," she said. Mulder looked slightly disappointed, and she smiled faintly. "We go roller skating," she announced finally, a huge grin making its way across her face. "I don't roller skate," he said, but quickly added, "Not that it matters, because you're not right. If I'm right, you have to wear the white shirt that's a little bit see-through at least twice next week," he said, as though this were some kind of ordeal. Oh, Mulder, she thought. Don't you realize I bought that for your benefit? She loved the way he stared when she wore that shirt; he was like an eighth-grader. It was kind of endearing to look over and see him ogling her breasts. It was very Mulder. "Fine. C'mon, time's up," she said, and they both stared at the TV. "HA! I'M RIGHT!" Scully shrieked. She stared at him pointedly. "Scully, I haven't skated since I was about 12 -" "Oh, shut up, Mulder. You agreed." "Yes, but that was before I knew I was *wrong,*" he whined, as though saying that would change her mind. "No. C'mon," she tugged on his arm as she stood. "What if I come up with something better?' "Like what?" "Like . . . dinner?" he suggested. She snorted. "I eat dinner every night, Mulder. I don't have too many opportunities to see Mr. Zero Coordination on Wheels." "Shut up, Scully," he groused, hitting her playfully with the Pay-Per-View schedule. He glanced down at it. "Or we could just watch 'Leila Licks -" "I don't want to hear the rest of it," she cut in. "C'mon, get ready." ~*~*~ He really was as horrible on skates as he claimed. He must've been *so* embarrassed. She almost felt bad for him. Almost. She snickered, skating ahead of him. Without her to protect him, it took one accidental brush from a little girl of about five to put him on his ass yet again. He didn't even attempt to get up this time, simply dragged himself off the main part of the skating rink and sat there. He gave her the puppy dog eyes, the ones she couldn't resist, and she sighed and skated effortlessly over. "It's broken," he announced flatly. "What is?" "My ass," he said, without emotion. "Want me to take a look at it?" Scully asked slyly. Mulder stared at her, shocked, and grinned. Scully was as surprised as he was - where *had* that come from? Instinctively, the two glanced to their left to see a young mother tightening her daughter's skates and simultaneously glaring at them. "I don't think Mommy likes where this is going," Mulder snickered as he looked back at Scully, and Soccer Mom left in a huff. "No kidding," Scully grinned, trying to pull him up, but he remained stationary. "Mulder, you're gonna have to get up at some point." "I'm not going to humiliate myself in front of a bunch of grade schoolers any more tonight. Jeez, why aren't these kids at home in bed?" "It's Friday, Mulder! And it's 8:00!! Now get up," she ordered, pulling harder on his arm. He didn't budge. "No," he insisted. She sighed, looking around. "I see Tea Leoni over there!" she yelped, and Mulder was on his feet instantly. "Where??" he asked quickly. "Gotcha," she smirked. "Damn, Scully . . ." he whined. "C'mon, Mulder, what would Tea Leoni be doing here?" "Yeah, she's probably off making out with . . .* Mulder,*" he mumbled disdainfully, referring to the other "Mulder." She grinned. "Garry Shandling has nothing on you, Mulder. And maybe, just maybe, in some alternate universe, you're married to Tea Leoni, and you can make out with her all you want," she said happily, knowing that regardless of who Mulder married in an alternate universe, he was hers in this one. "Yeah, maybe," he said, smiling. "But given a choice . . . I'd pick you." He sounded shy, more so than she was used to hearing from him. "I win out over Tea? Thank you." "Well, you in the see-through white shirt wins out over Tea, but I'm not sure about in general," he teased. She smacked him lightly on the shoulder; it was enough to throw his balance off, and he slammed onto the hardwood rink floor. Some fat, ugly little red-headed kid skated by him and laughed hysterically. "You deserved that," she grinned, and skated away. ~*~*~ "Stop fidgeting," Scully demanded as they rode home. They were an odd sight in the limo, both in jeans and t-shirts, but Scully decided that they deserved to waste the taxpayers' money on limos. It could be worse; they could be riding in the limo to eat at Spago, and they weren't. In her mind, the expense was justified. "I can't," he said. "I'm in horrible, horrible pain." "Mulder, you didn't whine this much when I shot you!" "Yeah, because I was scared of you!! OW!" "What now??" "It hurts to yell." She sighed. "Mulder, you're gonna walk back to the hotel if you don't shut up," she warned, sounding exhausted. He grinned wickedly. "What?" she asked. "I really like it when you push me around." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "You're a pervert, Mulder." "It's part of my charm," he said, his voice low. "You know, Scully, I was thinking - you're the only person I'd feel comfortable complaining to about my ass hurting." "I'm touched, Mulder," she said drily. "And if you didn't fall down so damn much, it wouldn't be a problem." "I know," he admitted. "Skating rink floors are hard." "They are," she agreed blandly, sounding as though she wasn't really listening. He waited a moment. "Wanna feel something else that's hard?" he snickered. "That's it. You're walking home." "Oh, c'mon, you left me open for that one. I had to take it. You were *asking* for it." He paused for a moment, realizing his double entendre. "Ooooh," he growled lewdly, smiling at her. Did he ever smile when he wasn't with her? God, she loved him. She hit him lightly on the side of the head, biting down on the skin of the side of her mouth to refrain from laughing. She wouldn't encourage him. Then, under the guise of looking out the window, she turned her head so he couldn't see her face; so he couldn't see her smile. ~*~*~ "You might feel less achy if you take a bath," she suggested, unlocking the door to her room. She figured he'd follow her in, they'd say goodnight, and he'd wander next door. Maybe they'd even leave the adjoining door open. They always left them unlocked, but completely open was another thing altogether. If they were going to do that, they might as well sleep in the same room, Scully's mind suggested. Practical Scully quickly shushed Evil Sex-Starved Scully, the one who offered to check Mulder's ass, the one who currently seemed quite interested in coming out to play. "You could take a bath with me," Mulder suggested, walking into her bedroom after her. She spun around and looked at him, trying to read him. "Or not," he added, noting her expression. "Um . . . yeah?" she answered. "Is that a question?" She didn't answer. She didn't really know. "Scully?" he pressed. "It'll be fun. I'll wash your hair," he said quietly. "Okay," she whispered, imaging Mulder's large, strong hands massaging her scalp. Maybe his hands would slide lower to rub her shoulders, and then down her back, rubbing with his palms while his fingers teased the sides of her breasts . . . she shivered. She hoped he didn't see it. Carefully entwining their fingers, she lead them to her bathroom. Evil Sex-Starved Scully and Practical Scully were going at it in the boxing ring, and Practical Scully was getting her straight-laced little ass kicked. ~*~*~ "You don't have to do this," Mulder reminded her as she sat on the edge of the tub, dumping an unnecessary amount of pink-colored bubble bath into the steaming water. It smelled like her, though he couldn't identify the smell. It was just Scully. She ignored his statement, dipping her hand into the water, testing the temperature. "You're going to have to turn off the lights," she said quietly. "Huh?" "That vanity has about 15 100-watt bulbs in it. I'm not taking my clothes off with that kind of lighting. It's unforgiving." He smiled faintly, flipping the light switch. "Better?" he asked softly. "Yeah," she answered, plucking absently at her shirt. "Turn around," she said, smiling shyly. His Scully, timid. He wanted to cry. He turned his back to her, squinching his eyelids shut so he wouldn't be tempted to sneak a glance in the mirror. "Okay," she called, and he turned to see her sitting in the tub, knees pulled up to her chest. Some of her hair had been pulled into a messy pony tail on the top of her head, but most of it was hanging loose, too short to make it into the scrunchy. He abandoned self-consciousness and divested of his clothes, his eyes remaining locked on hers the entire time. Until he pulled off his boxers, and her eyes drifted lower, to his swollen, semi-erect cock that was quickly hardening further under her careful gaze. He pushed aside embarrassment over her scrutiny, hoping to show her how much he loved her, to convey his own fears by exposing himself this way. He wanted her to see him like this, he wanted her to look. As he walked over to the tub, her eyes remained fixed on his groin. Okay, despite his earlier intentions, this whole staring thing was getting pretty humiliating. What the hell was so interesting down there?? "Scully?" he said lightly. "Mmm?" she murmured, still not looking up. "My eyes are up here." His tone was soft, but she blushed scarlet anyway. "Sorry," she muttered, staring at her hands. He joined her in the hot water, smiling. As much as he wanted to snuggle up on her chest, he sat across from her, mirroring her position. We could fit four more people in here, he thought idly. The tub was bigger than his entire bathroom at home. Then his mind supplied images of the Gunmen and Skinner. There goes that erection, his mind chided. But Tea Leoni and Scully . . . "Mulder?" Scully questioned nervously, distracting him from his reverie. "Yeah, Scully?" he responded, proud of his fast recovery time. Slowly, so slowly he didn't what she was doing, she leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. She quickly rubbed her nose against his, then settled into her original position. She looked like a scared little kitten. The past ten seconds had been the sweetest he could ever imagine. He wanted to cry again. "What?" she asked nervously. "Nothing," he whispered. He reached for her soapy little hand, enveloping it within his, and brought it to his mouth to kiss it. 'Soap tastes nasty' was his first thought. 'I love Scully' was the second. He'd get it printed on a t-shirt, he decided. Like those New York tourist must-have shirts. He could wear on FBI casual days. Yeah, Skinner would love that. "You promised to wash my hair," she reminded him shyly. With her words, Fox William Mulder began to believe in God. ~*~*~ He loved the feel of her head in his hands, her neck muscles relaxed and her head lolling around. She giggled as his fingers danced across her neck - his Scully was ticklish. He teased her neck again and was awarded with a string of laughter, her slick body wriggling on top of his. He grinned at his discovery, and went back to washing her. Her eyes closed, so trusting; it moved him. Her back, her legs, her arms, he ticked off the body parts, wondering what he was going to do when he got to less socially presentable parts of her anatomy. She wasn't making any move to stop him as his hands washed her inner thighs, and her hips arched instinctively as his hands accidentally brushed further north. He ignored this occurrence and washed her stomach, smooth and soft; he wanted to bury his face in her belly and live there forever. As much as his hands longed to touch her breasts, he decided that he didn't want to be shot; he best option seemed to be to ignore anything was to be covered in underwear. He ran his hand up and down her thigh a few times, and her blue cat's eyes opened slowly. "All finished," he announced quietly. She nodded, sitting up straight, hiding her confusion. The second he wandered toward the place she wanted him most he jerked away, and began caressing her stomach. He'd avoided her breasts. Perhaps it was the confirmation of what she'd come to fear; maybe he didn't find her sexually attractive, and didn't want to give her the impression that he did. What the hell was I expecting, really? she berated herself. It had been seven years, after all. He'd never attempted to have sex with her - it had to mean *something.* Like he didn't find her sexy. "This was a bad idea," she said, eyeing the towel on the edge of the tub. She managed to leap from the tub and get the towel wrapped around her without revealing anything. She instantly felt stupid. What the hell would it matter if he did see anything? He obviously wasn't interested. "What?" There was astonishment in his voice. "Forget it," she called, already out of the bathroom. Yanking his boxers on he chased after her, finding her already changed into sweatpants and her old FBI t-shirt, stained with spaghetti sauce after a kitchen accident about a year ago. She looked over at him as though she'd forgotten he was even in the room. "Scully!" he yelped, unsure of what else to say. "What?" "What the hell just happened?" "I think this is more about what didn't happen," she snapped, flipping on the TV. Jay Leno was interviewing Christina Aguilera. She was sure an interview with a grapefruit would be more intelligent, but she listened anyway, trying to tune Mulder out. "What are you talking about? Dammit, turn off the TV." She ignored him, and after walking over and using unnecessary force on the poor 'power' button, the TV went off. "What, Mulder?" Her tone was sharp. "Everything was fine, and you just jump out and run in here. What's the deal, Scully?" "The deal is that we're partners. Partners don't take baths together," she said. "That's not what you said an hour ago," he countered. "Forget what I said earlier, okay? This was a stupid idea." "What did I do wrong?" he asked quietly, sitting down next to her on the bed. She inched away, and he didn't attempt to chase her. He'd give her her space. He'd violated her enough already. "Nothing," she told him, sighing. "I shouldn't have touched you like that," he said quietly, his voice heavy with regret. "I went way too far, and I am so sorry." She gawked at him, the meaning of his words slowly sinking in. What the hell? Suddenly, it hit her; he thought he'd gone too far, he was afraid of hurting her, of upsetting her. She was pissed because she thought he didn't want her. She'd never felt like more of a psychotic bitch in her life as she did at that moment. "I don't know what I was thinking, Scully . . . I completely took advantage of your trust in me. You were just there, your sweet, tiny little body, and I just wanted to touch you. I am so sorry. God, I'm sorry." The remorse in his voice was almost palpable. "You didn't do anything wrong," she whispered, moving closer to him. His head was down, staring at his hands, which were rhythmically clenching. She imagined her breasts, her hips, her ass in that grasp . . . Oh, God. Not the time, she thought, forcing Evil Scully to shut the hell up. "Yeah, I did," he said, sounding closer to tears every time he spoke. "Mulder," she whispered, trying to convey all the love she kept hidden with simply speaking his name. Her hand ran across his stubbly chin, then up, teasing his hair. He smiled as her hands eased over his neck; they were ticklish in the same spots. "Stop it, Scully," he warned, but the repressed laughter in his voice was hardly threatening. She grinned and slid her hand over to his ribs. He jerked, an explosive laugh erupting from his mouth. "Stop!" he shrieked. He grabbed her hand and pulled it away, pushing it down on the bed. "Oh, Scully," he murmured, holding her down hands down. "I'm sorry," he repeated quietly. "Don't be," she assured him, nuzzling his shoulder with her nose. He laced his fingers through hers, resting their entwined hands on his thigh. "I should probably get dressed," he said embarrassedly. She shrugged, laying back on the bed facedown. "You okay?" he asked, resting a hand lightly between her shoulder blades. "Yeah. Tired," she said, and he began rubbing her back. She groaned, and he could almost *feel* the blood rushing back to his cock. She smiled, noticing that his fingers were tracing patterns on her back. "What are you writing?" Scully asked, smiling into the pillow. He said nothing, but rolled her shirt up to her shoulders so her skin was exposed to him. Over and over he drew an 'I,' then a heart, then a 'Scully.' "Oh," she whispered. I heart Scully. I love Scully. "I do," he said, referring to the words he was writing repeatedly on her back. "You should have that printed on a t-shirt," she joked, and he began to laugh. ~*~*~ End Part 1 ~*~*~ From: skeeter@bcinet.net Date: Thu, 20 May 1999 22:21:48 -0400 Subject: xfc: NEW! "Momentum" by Robby Keofe (2 of 2) Source: xfc ~*~*~ Disclaimer, summary, etc. in part 1 MOMENTUM by robby keofe Part 2 of 2 "Okay, your turn," she told him, sitting up. She forced him onto his stomach. "Okay, guess what I'm writing." She began moving her hands over his back. "Scully, that felt a lot like, 'Scully Wants Oral Sex.'" "NO! It was 'Scully Wants Apple Juice,' you pervert!" "Oh, sorry," he laughed. "Forget it. I'll get it myself," she mumbled, digging through the fridge, but she was smiling. "How the hell did you get 'oral sex' out of 'apple juice?'" she asked, settling back in behind him. "I don't know! The letter formation . . . it just looked like 'oral sex' to me." "Maybe it was subconscious," she said quietly, and Mulder looked at her over his shoulder. "Please tell me you actually said what I thought I heard." "What did you think you heard?" "That you wanted me to go down on you," he said quietly, his feral eyes tearing into hers. She quivered at the look, and she knew he noticed. "I don't know," she said timidly, suddenly afraid. He broke their gaze, not wanting to make her more upset than necessary, and buried his face back in the pillow. He reached back to touch her thigh gently. "Don't be embarrassed." "I'm not," she said defensively, glad he couldn't see her blush. "It's okay. Don't get upset. I figured you were having a Catholic school, nice-girls-don't flashback." His head turned to her, and he stared at her intently, love in his eyes. "I'd do anything for you, you know that. All you have to do is ask." She nodded slowly, fear melting away to a sense of safety. She was loved. Sister Margaret Rose be damned. Please God, don't let me burn in hell for that one, she thought quickly. "Okay. But right now I want to play the word game," she announced. He smiled and relaxed his neck, facing away from her again. 'I,' heart, and 'Mulder,' over and over, just as he'd done for her. "Ummm . . . lemme guess . . . food again, Scully?" he teased. "Damn you!" she shrieked, playfully smacking him on the shoulder. "I love Mulder!" "I'll tell him you said that," he said, grinning. "And Mulder loves you, too." "Good. I would have for my love to be unrequited." "Join the club. Why do you think he waited so long to say anything?" "Oh, Mulder," she sighed, resting her head against his back. They were quiet for a moment, listening to each other breathe. Mulder broke the silence. "If you had to pick a moment, one single moment in time that made you realize that this was real, this was special, that this thing we share is the most magical, beautiful thing in all the world, which would it be?" She inhaled, thinking deeply as she sat up; her mind presented her with millions of images, glances or smiles or secret touches that let her know she was loved without words. To select a single one, to pinpoint the moment that changed everything, was practically impossible. "There were lots of moments," she began haltingly. "That let me know you cared, that maybe you even loved me. But the moment when I knew I'd come full circle, that I'd never meet another man who could move me the way you do, make me laugh the way you do, make me feel beautiful and smart and *loved* the way you do . . . when I had cancer. Mulder, you took care of me when I was sick." Tears welled in her eyes and her voice cracked. He sat up as well, facing her on the bed. "I was so sick," she said, reaching for the box of tissues on the bedside table. He beat her to it and handed her one. "Mulder, I remember how thin I got, and how awful I looked. That wasn't even the worst part. My hair was falling out. I smelled like vomit. God, I could never get rid of that smell. But you stayed with me through the chemo. I remember how you used to sit with me, and stroke my hair. You used to fix me ginger ale and crackers all the time. I felt too horrible to even keep my eyes open, and you would read to me. And you told me I was beautiful. Do you remember that? You saw me looking in the mirror one time, at probably the worst point of the cancer. My hair, what was left of it, was disgusting, because I could barely walk, let alone stand up long enough to take a regular shower. I was a horrible pasty color, and my clothes were hanging off me. My lips were cracked, there were huge, dark circles under my eyes, which were sunken and dead looking. It didn't even look like me. And you saw me, Mulder, and you told me I was beautiful." She stopped, beginning to cry harder. "You have no idea what that meant to me. I knew you were lying, just to make me feel better, but you can't possibly know how much it meant to hear that." She took a few deep breaths, forcing herself to regain control. Her attempts were for nothing, as she began to cry harder when she noticed Mulder's hand tenderly rubbing her back. "I didn't understand why you didn't leave me alone, why you just wouldn't go away. I hated you for seeing me like that. Do you know that, Mulder? I hated you because you were so good to me. I couldn't take it." "But it made you realize I loved you?" he asked quietly, guilt beginning to gnaw at him. She had to nearly die for him to display any real tenderness, to attempt to fully show her how much he loved her. A familiar self-hatred was fast reclaiming him. "Not at the time," she said after a brief, vaguely uncomfortable silence. "I don't know what I thought at the time. That you were just doing what you were supposed to as my partner, I guess. I don't know where in the FBI handbook it says that you'd be responsible for holding my hair back during the rigors of chemo, but I think that's what I thought. But I found out . . . like a year ago, I guess, talking to Skinner, that you'd come to the hospital after I went into anaphylactic shock in that meeting. You were supposed to be dead, you risked your life by coming in there, and you came anyway." "Of course I came, Scully," he said with disbelief, bending to look her in the eyes. "Well, yeah, but it didn't seem that obvious at the time. I just . . . it was really hard to get over the Ed Jerse thing, especially where you were concerned. I remember thinking, over and over, that you only forgave me for him because I was dying. I thought you were only doing it so you wouldn't have to feel bad about hating me for what I did after I was gone. That sounds awful, I know it does . . . but that's what I thought," she finished, wiping at her nose with the tissue. "I didn't forgive you because you got sick. I forgave you because I love you, and I'd forgive you for anything. Scully, I was hurt. I'm not going to lie about that. But you could never do anything so horrible to me that I wouldn't forgive you for it." "You were so angry at me," she whispered. "Yes, Scully but we moved on. We got through it. We always do. I love you, Scully," he said, lifting his hand to her cheek. She tilted her head and rubbed into it, the way a cat might. He smiled. "Love you," she murmured, then grinned. "It feels so weird to say that aloud." "Good weird, though, right?" he asked nervously. She laughed. "Good weird, Mulder," she confirmed. ~*~*~ The strolled down the well-lit street, careful not to venture too far from the hotel. Neither was interested in wandering through gang-ridden L.A. at night because they forgot how to get back. "Whatcha wanna do?" Mulder asked, casually taking her hand in his. He was surprised at how natural it felt, and how completely he enjoyed the sensation of her hand in his. "We could get some food," Scully suggested. "Okay. What do you feel like eating?" "I'm not really hungry," she said after a moment, and he smiled. "Do you want to drive out to the ocean?" "If you want to," she said noncommittally. "Scully? You okay?" "I'm fine, Mulder." She grinned at him. "Really." "Do you want to continue with our walk, then?" he asked. "Do you want to?" "If you do." "Well, the more time we spend out on the town, the less time we have back at the hotel having sex," she said matter-of-factly. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to her. He blinked a few times, thinking he'd imagined the statement. He couldn't speak. "Huh?" he managed, still shocked. She laughed. "Race ya back!" she shrieked. She was off and running. ~*~THE END~*~ ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ I know what you're thinking. "God, I am SO sick of this Robby chick! Who the hell does she think she is, loading my mailbox with this crap?? BITCH." Send some feedback anyway. :-) You know you want to.