::  The Maiden Tribute   ::

Chapter Seven

Skinner followed Scully as she made her way down the main thoroughfare toward the docks. He hung back as she waited for an omnibus. Even though her hat was pulled down over her eyes, he could see that she was secretly observing passersby, particularly the men. It seemed as though she was taking careful note on how they walked, even practicing a few steps when she thought no one was looking. He hid in a recessed doorway, but realized that even though she kept glancing around, she wasn’t really looking much beyond a short range. It was then that he noticed the heavy, masculine glasses that she wore. He tried to get a closer look and when she stepped directly into the light of the street lamp, he noticed how thick they were. Grinning, he stepped out into the street, where, if she were looking toward him, she couldn’t fail to recognize him – surely he had made some little impression on her.

The omnibus pulled up and Scully tripped getting up the stairs. Skinner almost betrayed himself by rushing to her aid, but instead, forced himself to swing on at the last minute and face away from her.

Dana managed to deposit the ha’penny fare into the small box. She stumbled down the aisle and sat across from a very old woman, whose eyesight was hopefully such that she wouldn’t notice Scully at all. Scully was beginning to have second and third thoughts about her grand scheme. She had thought that by just dressing as a man, she would become one, but it appeared to be a bit harder than she realized. There was that walking thing for instance. On the street several people had looked at her oddly and since the suit fit reasonably well and her hair was covered and her head was down, she felt that the only thing that might give her away was her walk. She had studied both men and women as they strolled by and noticed a huge difference. She had even tried a few halting steps before boarding the omnibus. She could only pray that the darkness at the docks would hide the more obvious signs of her true gender. She longed to adjust her aching, bound breasts, held tight against her chest by the firmly tied bandage. She kept her eyes down and didn’t notice the imposing form of Walter Skinner standing down on the steps. Her eyes hurt from the thick lenses and she wondered if she could manage with them on.

They alighted at the top of a steep brick stairway leading downward toward the dank, smelly Thames. Scully gave up and shoved the glasses into her coat pocket and hurried down the stairs. She felt a sense of liberation when the people around her, some drunk, but others just going about their own business, ignored her; ignored the boy she had become. When a whore walked right by her only to proposition a man a little ways behind, it occurred to her that she probably looked too young to get into the Hellfire Club. But, she figured she could still hang around the entrance and see if there was a way to sneak in.

She turned down a dark alley way marked "Green Street" and slowly made her way until the passage widened into a courtyard. There were several businesses here, as well as several unmarked doorways. She continued on until she came to the end of the street and found a cross street cut off further passage. Back- tracking, she heard scurrying feet. She stopped dead and listened as the footsteps hastily retreated. She gulped and entered the wide courtyard again. She found another alleyway leading off from the courtyard and poked her head into it. It was cluttered with overturned boxes, crates and high piles of trash. The stench was bearable so she propped herself up on one of the boxes and peered out into the courtyard and waited.

She sat there shivering for a long while until the sound of footsteps alerted her to company. She gingerly climbed down from the box and peered into the courtyard. Two men approached the door across the way and rapped, once, twice, thrice and then waited. Even from this distance, Dana could hear several bolts being thrown and then a hinge squeal. One of the men grumbled, "Lord, Hutchins, get some axle grease for that thing." She could not hear the answer but both men were silent for a few beats before one of them blustered, "Bloody hell, Hutchins. Bunch of damn fool rigmarole. Very well, Brimstone!" Scully heard the other man laugh and then it got quite again as the door shut behind them.

Three more men came, knocked and were admitted with the whispered or muttered oath, though she could no longer make out the words. Scully watched intently when a man strolled up accompanied by a young boy, no older than Tommy. Both were admitted upon the man’s uttering the password. Dana watched in sick wonder as the man ran his hand up and down the boy’s back affectionately, before pushing him gently into the club. So engrossed was she in the scene that she didn’t hear the voices coming down the alleyway behind her. She had no time to hide and just as she thought to run across the courtyard for another alleyway another man strolled up to the door and rapped on it. She was trapped and had no idea what she was going to do when suddenly a large hand gripped her upper arm and growled, "there you are. I thought I told you to meet me here an hour ago." Before she could say anything, two men who looked vaguely familiar pushed past them and walked to the door, which now had a line up of several men.

All of the men were impeccably dressed, as was the man firmly gripping her arm. She started to say something about the man being mistaken when she realized whom it was that held her so firmly. "Skinner!" she hissed.

The fury in his eyes cut off any further speech. He pushed her into the courtyard and started to head for the passageway when suddenly two more men walked through and toward them. Skinner recognized one of the men and he whipped around and pushed her into line. In a low growl, he cautioned, "not a word. You got us into this, now let’s see what you’ve discovered!"

Anxiety and out and out fear were replaced by anger. She tried to pull free but his large hand held firm, his blunt fingers bit painfully into the soft flesh of her arm. As they approached the door, she fumed. <<<I got us into this? What the hell are you doing here?>>> She remembered the story that Cassandra had told and fear began to reassert itself. Her palms got sweaty and she began to shake as the dark doorway loomed ahead. When the two men in front of them whispered the password and were admitted she chanced to glance at Skinner and saw panic and confusion in his face. <<<He doesn’t know it. He doesn’t know this place or the password. What the hell is he doing here?>>>

She quickly pulled him down and whispered in his ear. He looked puzzled for a moment but when the door man harumped, he growled out, "Brimstone." The man nodded them through and they stepped up into the foyer. A thin man came to take Skinner’s coat, but the policeman shook his head. The other man shrugged and pointed to the entrance. When they reached the curtain, a muscular man wearing only dress pants, his thick chest oiled and bare, showed them to a small table in the center of the room. Skinner growled, "we would like more privacy. Something in back." He gave the man a gold crown and they were shown to a small booth against the wall a few steps up from the floor. Skinner pushed Scully in and then sat on the bench next to her.

"What the hell do you think…" Her protest was cut short by his hand across her mouth.

His face was within inches of hers. "Not a word," he warned," until I figure out what the hell is going on here."

He held his hand in place until she nodded. She huffed as soon as he removed it but kept her peace. Leaning back, she checked out their surroundings. Everything was covered in red brocade. The chairs, the walls, even the waiter who suddenly appeared before them wore red brocade. Skinner ordered Scotch and then added, "and bring a Madeira for the…for my…just bring the Madeira."

She smiled slightly at his discomfort but went back to checking out the people at the tables below them. All were men. Though that wasn’t really surprising as women seldom ventured out except to dances, afternoon teas and social calls. But she had expected to see at least a few prostitutes. Perhaps Cassandra was pulling a joke on her. This looked like one of the ornate men’s clubs her father had described on Half Moon Street, his "quiet bastion away from the nattering of women," as he had put it. Well there certainly was no nattering here. The noise level was so low as to be non-existent. Men touched heads and whispered. It was difficult to make out any of their faces in the dim light coming from a few gas lamps on the walls. She looked at Skinner who was leaning back in the shadows. He had put on his glasses and his eyes darted back and forth surveying the men around them. The waiter came back with their drinks and waited patiently. Evidently, Skinner had watched several men at other tables and sighing, put another sovereign on the tray. As she reached for her glass of wine and sipped it, he muttered angrily, "sit back in the shadows, damn it." She arched her eyebrow but did as she was told. They sat there, arms touching, neither one daring to look at the other, and waited.

Skinner looked around and spotted several powerful men that he knew and who knew him. He had no idea what this club was about, but he had heard whispers for years of strange clubs all over the city where powerful men met to satisfy some of their darker urges. He prayed that this was a club where they brought cocks to fight or perhaps even bloody fisticuffs. He knew that other clubs existed, but in all his years on the force he had never been to one. He hoped he wasn’t in one now, sitting next to Dana Scully.

Dana Scully. After she and Mulder had left his office, he sent for Byers and had him check her out. Now, he knew her father was dead and her mother was a well-off widow living with her two daughters in Bethany Circle. He knew Dana had been one of the first women at Cambridge. Byers had told him how she ran the clinic almost single-handedly with only the help of one neighborhood boy and a growing circle of poor women who helped out when they could. He knew her sister was involved in both the small Catholic Church near their home and was interested in the occult, like many women of her class. He had learned all these things in less than ten hours, but what he didn’t know was how she had managed to capture his heart with one furious look. And he didn’t know why she was here in this place, dressed up in a second hand boy’s suit, smelling of cigar smoke, her incredible red hair hidden by an oversized cap. He refused to look at her lest those bottomless blue eyes mesmerize him. Finally he managed to rasp out, "what are you doing here, Doctor?"

She trembled at his harsh voice. He scared her. Not because she thought that he would harm her. No. She had gotten over that fear almost immediately. No, his voice touched something deep within her. Something that she thought she had forgotten when Jack Willis had betrayed her. Her stomach clenched at his nearness. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on making some kind of sense as his head lowered to hear her better. She took a deep breath and told him about her visit to Cassandra and what she had learned from the prostitute. She stumbled over the story in several places but was determined to get the whole tale out.

By the time she was done, Skinner could feel the heat of embarrassment rolling off her reddened face. He didn’t need much light to tell how affected she was by the whore’s tale. He reached up and pulled her chin toward him. "So you decided to just dress up like a man and come and invade the place? Where the hell was Mulder? I can’t imagine him letting you do something like this?"

Her look of incredulity and sharp hiss told him all he needed to know about their relationship. "Mulder allow me?" Mimicking the women in the clinic she smirked. "Wha’re ya? Daft, man!" She sobered and emphasized, "Mulder doesn’t tell me what to do. I think that’s why he is such a good…friend." She didn’t know why it was so important, but she wanted him to know that’s all Mulder was. "Mulder is out looking into Georgina Taylor’s disappearance. I think he wanted to see Melissa Ephesian again."

Skinner grunted and leaned back in the booth. "Well, I hope he doesn’t run into Sergeant Doggett. The two of them don’t get along at all."

"Why’s that?" she asked.

"You’d have to ask them, but I think it has something to do with vampires."

"What?"

"Never mind. Is it getting darker in here?" Skinner looked around and nodded towards the dimming gas lamps. God help them all if a fire should break out. He wasn’t sure he could find the door quickly enough to save them if it did.

Suddenly a low beating drum began somewhere and a spotlight illuminated a stage area in the middle of the room. On the stage was a simple iron framed bed, the head and foot boards both at least 2 feet higher than the mattress. Dana tried to figure out what the strange hanging belts were for when suddenly from off to the right a man and a woman stepped up to the stage. Dana’s eyes grew huge as the man began to kiss the pretty blond woman, who, dressed only in a skimpy robe, returned his kisses passionately. Dana glanced back at Skinner when she heard his sharp intake of breath. She leaned back and brought her lips to his ear. "What?"

He turned to answer her and found his lips were inches from hers. He gulped and shook his head. "Later," he whispered.

Dana returned her eyes to the stage and almost gasped out loud. Skinner reacted swiftly, clamping his hand over her mouth. She shook her head free and glared back at him for a second before she realized he probably couldn’t see her look in the dark.

The couple was naked now and the man’s huge penis lay flaccid against his thigh. Scully's face burned with embarrassment, but something else was happening to her too. She became hyper aware of Skinner's nearness and tried to focus instead on the scene playing out before them.

The man on the stage roughly pulled the blond to him and forced her to her knees. She tried to fight him off but he forced her head toward his loins. In the harsh spotlight Scully could see the fear in the blonde’s eyes as she reached out and began to stroke the man’s shaft, finally lowering her mouth to kiss and then lick it. Scully felt Skinner squirm next to her. <<<He’s as embarrassed as I am. I wonder what else he is feeling?>>> She watched in almost analytical fascination as the woman sucked and caressed the man’s burgeoning erection. She had never done that with Jack. They had always made love with him on top, lying between her legs. She remembered the strange fluttering sensation that would begin in her belly but Jack always finished so quickly and then rolled off of her before the feeling ever had a chance to grow.

The only sound in the room was the ever increasingly loud breathing from the audience and the moans and pants coming from the man on stage. The blond was starting to suck harder now, working her lips and mouth up and down the man’s now fully erect member. Suddenly, the man grabbed her by the hair and plunged deep into the woman’s throat shouting out something that Dana couldn’t understand. She saw what she thought at first was spittle running down the woman's chin, until she realized what it really was. She sat back into the seat and buried her head in her hands.

Skinner sat in shock. He prayed fervently that the show was over. He couldn’t believe that he just sat there next to Scully and let her watch that. He wanted nothing more than to throw the table across the room and arrest the whole lot of them. After the man finished rocking into the woman’s mouth he pulled out, yanked her up by the hair and threw her on the bed. The creaking of the bed caught Scully’s attention and she pulled her hands from her face. Skinner leaned over to her and pleaded gently, "please, Dana. Please don’t watch anymore." Dana looked up at him in wonder and saw the tears in his eyes. She placed her hands in her lap and lowered her head. Curiosity eventually won out and she raised her eyes, if not her head to watch in sick fascination as the man tied the blond down to the headboard and began to roughly kiss and bite and lick his way down to her most private place. Scully kept hearing Cassandra’s voice in her head. Suddenly she couldn’t stand it anymore and she turned to Skinner and buried her face in his chest. She felt his huge hand come up and hold her gently, keeping her eyes from the scene on the stage. But nothing could keep the cries and pleas being shouted by the woman from Scully’s ears. The moans were hardly moans of pain, but of intense pleasure that Scully knew no decent woman should ever feel. Sometimes at afternoon teas, married women whispered of such things. They would sigh at each other and make comments about lying there and doing their duty.

Suddenly the woman shouted as if in pain and Scully jerked up in time to see the man plunge his swollen, impossibly long penis deep into the woman’s sex. Skinner tried to gently pull her back but she pushed away from him and sat rigidly next to him. Her eyes unfocused, staring straight-ahead. She heard the applause and then, she heard the coins hit the stage.

She remembered nothing else until the cold February air struck her full on the face, a fat snowflake falling on her cheek. Skinner had somehow gotten her out of the building and onto the street. He dragged her to the alleyway and shoved her against the wall. "Scully! Dana, look at me. Are you all right?"

She tried to push him away, but he stood firm. "I’m fine," she snapped. "What are you going to do about it?" She hit at him. "Do something!" Her fist struck his chest again. "Arrest them, damn you!" She brought both fists up now to strike him, but he grabbed her hands and held her tight.

"Can you walk?" he anxiously demanded.

"What? Can I walk?" She tried to free her hands but he held them tight.

He brought his head down towards hers and she thought he was going to kiss her but before she could scream, his hissed in her ear. "We have to get out of here. I think someone recognized me when we were leaving and I don’t want you to be caught up in this. Can you walk?"

Panic seized her and she tried to pull away from his grasp. "We have to go. I can’t be…"

He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. "I will not let you be discovered! Come on." He seized her hand and hurried her down the unfamiliar alleyway where they had both chosen to hide earlier. They came out onto another narrow passageway, one way leading down to the water’s edge, the other deeper into the slums surrounding the wharf area. There were several noisy public houses on this street, drunks careering off each other. One even tried to shove into Skinner, but it was like trying to move a dray horse. The man blearily stared up into the cold stony fury of the Chief Superintendent and tipped his dilapidated stovepipe hat. "Soarry, gov’ner," he slurred and before stumbling away.

Skinner tried not to keep glancing back, but he had to know who his pursuers were. He found a closed shop and pulled Scully into the doorway and peered around the corner. His eyes searched the crowed until finally he spotted his hunter. "Bloody Hell!" he cursed.

Scully gasped at his profanity and gripped his arm. "Who is it!"

"Owens! What the hell was he doing there?"

"The policeman? The one who you said investigated Georgina’s disappearance? Can’t you just…"

Skinner saw Owens and another man duck into one of the public houses and took his chance and dragged Scully from their hiding place. He pulled her behind him as he made his way up the street. They entered an area with fewer alehouses and therefore fewer people. Skinner normally stood tall amongst his peers, here in the slums, amongst the stooped and drunken, he felt like Nelson’s Monument in Trafalgar Square. He had to get them off the main thoroughfare. He made one last desperate search for a cab or conveyance of any kind before pulling her down another narrow passageway. The alleyway, strewn with the detritus of the slums, ran for nearly a block with no openings or doorways. He could hear Scully panting as she tried to keep up behind him, her arm completely extended.

They just made the next opening and had turned right when they heard a voice from the street call, "do you see anything?"

"No but here’s a cut off they could have taken."

Scully looked around her. She groaned and Skinner tore his eyes off the passageway and stared down at her. "What?"

She pointed at the street before them. Skinner snorted. "You’ve never seen whore houses before?"

There were five houses lining this street that had sprung up no more than a decade ago in what had probably started out as a warehouse holding area. Contractors had come in and erected buildings that began to tumble before the last nail was even set. Families had moved in, privies had filled and poisoned the water table and now the only people here were the dregs of London. Several madams sat on rickety chairs on rotting stoops yelling out to each other. Scully could hear the men advancing and pulled off her cap. "Quick, give me your coat," she hissed at Skinner, who was staring at her wild mop of red hair, now loosely tumbled about her shoulders."

"Why, oh are you cold?" he asked as he pulled it off.

Scully slipped on the huge coat. "Pretend your drunk," she instructed.

"What?" He was thoroughly confused by now, but he could hear the men coming up behind them. Scully took one last look up at him and suddenly plopped the cap down on his head. Now only the rich fringe of brown barely showed between the cap and the high collar of his shirt.

Grabbing his arm and raising her voice she called out, "come on, ducks. I’m quiet shurar that one of these Abbesses will rent us a crib. You’re flush." She checked out each of the buildings and spotted the brothel keeper she wanted. Huge, the woman’s flushed face showed signs of an earlier bout with the pox and open sores marked what would likely be her eventual death from syphilis. The eyes were filmy with cataracts. Scully stopped at the foot of the steps. "Missus, ya got a crib fer me. Me man ‘er is right ready, if ya ge’me drift." She winked broadly at the woman who stared down at her, peering at the dim shadows before her through watery eyes.

"I might. ‘pends don’ h’it?" The woman studied Skinner who finally realized what Scully was trying to do. He stumbled up the stairs, dragging Scully up by the arm, keeping her from falling when she tripped over his coat. He turned and saw that the coat was gapping open and he realized that while that they had been walking and talking she had managed to open the collar of the shirt. He gulped and stared at her creamy white throat before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sovereign. It was far more than the woman would normally get, but he wanted to be out of the way before the men reached the alley entrance. The woman bit into the coin and jerked her head toward the door. "Second floor, first door. H’it’s me best room. And ducks, for this." She held up the bright gold coin, "you cen stay the night." Her cackle rent the night air."

Scully pushed Skinner into the open doorway and turned back to the woman, letting her hair tumble down across her face. "Tanks’ luv. Can’t wait ta get me fingers frew his thick yeller locks."

The woman cackled back. "Big brute of a man like that. Wha’ is ‘e? A bruiser?"

Scully thought quickly and put a definition to the slang. "Ho yeah. ‘e’s been in several bouts, won ‘em all he has. Crowds luv ‘em they does, those blond curls all sweated up."

The woman spotted the two men coming out of the alley. "Garn, now. Got me two lif’ ems comin up." Scully peered back at the two men and grinned evilly. "Oh I don know, ducks, thems looks like Rozzers ta me."

The woman peered down through rheumy eyes. "Ya think, luv. Can’t have no coppers ‘er. I pays me dues." The woman sighed. "Pro’bly lookin for a free in. Well not ta night. Me girls cen make some money ta night, hain’t givin nuffink away."

Scully turned and ran into the building and right into the chest of Skinner who hissed, "What the hell?"

Scully whispered back, "not now, we have to get upstairs to the room before they spot us." She led the way up the rickety stairway to the next floor and found the open door. She pulled him in and sighed. "Oh dear heavens."

Skinner stood in the doorway. He could go no further without running into her. They stared at the small bed with the soiled linen still mussed on it. There was one cast off armchair and a bureau with a large cracked mirror and two large drawers. The smell was a mixture of strong lye and stronger filth. Scully gulped and walked gingerly over to the bed. Skinner closed the door and then pulled the chair, which was surprisingly heavy and pushed it against the door. The hasp had long since been broken, probably the last time some john had begun beating on a whore and the girl’s ponce had to break it down.

Glass, though broken in one corner, still covered the one window overlooking the stoop below. He pressed himself against the wall and peered down. The building was so poorly made that he suspected that even if the glass had been intact he would still be able to hear the men clearly. He watched as they approached first one whore keeper and then the next. Finally they reached ‘their’ house and he saw Owens put his foot on the bottom step. The old woman stared down at him. "Wha’cha wan ‘ere copper?"

Owens chuckled. "Now old woman, what makes you think I’m a copper?"

"Garn wif ya. Got nuffink for ya t’night. All me girls is busy and all me extra rooms is let fer the night."

Owens looked craftily up at the façade of the building. "All your extra rooms are rented huh? To who?"

"What h’it ta you?" the woman snapped.

"You wouldn’t be rentin’ to mandrakes now would ya?"

The woman became indignant. "Me! Rent to queers. Are ye daft? Garn wif ya. Got no time for twat. The only folks ‘ere I don know is a tail wif her yeller-haired bruiser mark for the night."

Owens ground out, "are you sure?"

The woman snorted. "Sure’s rain, ya gob, now get orf wif ya fore I call me man afta ya."

Skinner watched as Owens scanned the building. He felt a movement behind him and suddenly Scully was standing at the window, visible in the pale moonlight. She had shed the suit and stood there in her knickers and chemise, her hair tumbling down around her shoulders. Owens grinned up at her and she wiggled her fingers at him before turning away. Skinner fought to keep his temper but the next words out of the other man’s mouth stopped them both cold. "Hey, Krycek, lets get crackin, the boss’ll want us back soon."

Scully swung around and approached the window again, but Skinner grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward the bed. He noticed the odd lumpy binding around her chest, barely visible through the thin chemise, but pulled his up eyes to focus on her face. The walls in the crib were like paper and they could make out the shouts and groans coming from the room next door. Skinner closed his eyes and gritted. "Krycek? He uses another name? Well, well our Mr. Owens bears more watching than I thought."

Scully wrenched her arm from his. "Krycek is the name of the man that came to Melissa Ephesian’s house to tell her where to find Georgina. And he turns out to be a policeman. Your policeman."

Skinner dropped his eyes to the floor. "Yes," he bit off. He turned away from her, acutely aware of her state of undress and returned to look out at the street below. He heard her rustling behind him, and then the bureau drawers sliding open.

"Well, well. I guess it’s comforting to know they’re there if you want them?"

He turned around and saw her holding up folded sheets. She smiled ruefully. "No maid service."

He shook his head at her feeble attempt to lighten the mood, and turned back to the window. He heard her strip the soiled linens from the bed and bustle around the bed, muttering to herself. Springs sagged and he finally turned away from the window. His heart stopped. She had lit the small oil lamp on the bureau and a wavering smoky light suffused the room, casting almost erotic shadows on the wall behind her. She sat in the middle of the bed, the boy’s jacket over her undergarments, her luxurious red hair a mess around her head. He noted that the sheets, while cleaner than the ones now piled in the corner, were threadbare and spotted with stains he didn’t want to think about. She looked wanton and innocent all at the same time. He closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek trying desperately to remember to breathe.

Scully looked up at the man she had just met yesterday. The man that she didn’t like, didn’t truly trust. The tall broad shouldered… She gulped and forced herself to study the room around her. She had been in rooms like this before, visiting women and children too sick to come to the clinic, many on death's doorstep. Cold barren rooms. She thought of Cassandra, but in doing so, visions of the Hellfire club came unbidden to her. Wild thoughts flitted across her consciousness, unwanted, lustful thoughts. She bit her lip trying to come up with a subject that was safe. In the end she chose to attack. "So he’s one of your policemen. You know all about this, don’t you!"

He took a shuddering gasp of air. "No!" He thundered, then dropped his voice to a whisper. "But I should have. I’ve heard whispers, vague allusions." He jammed his hands into his pockets and closed his eyes. Remembering sly looks, halted conversations, almost invitations. He had recognized several of the men tonight. Powerful men, rich men, untouchable men. Men who could and would never be touched by any scandal that would result from any action on his part.

"What are we going to do?" she asked gently from the bed.

He was unable to meet her eyes. He turned away and returned to the window. "Nothing. There is nothing we can do."

"I see. So more Georginas and Philydias and Cassandras are going to be sacrificed to the Minotaur?"

He turned in anger then and approached the bed. "What do you want me to do, DOCTOR?" He stood there before her, panting in frustration. "Did you see who was there tonight?" He threw back his head and laughed bitterly. "Two judges were sitting there, near the front, salivating while…while…" His voice dropped to a plea. "What do you want from me?"

She stared at him, tears in her eyes. She reached out to touch his sleeve but dropped her hand back to her lap. "I’m sorry. I DO understand. But surely, there is something we can do."

He ran his hand over his forehead, pushing the cap to the floor. "I don’t know," he groaned. "The men I saw tonight were men that I would never have suspected. Who do I go to?" His shoulders sagged and he went to the chair and flopped down into it, his ass hitting the floor when the springs gave out under his bulk.

Scully looked at the ridiculous sight before her and began to giggle. His knees were high above his head level now and he struggled to pull himself up. She moved off the bed and stood before him. Reaching out her arms she laughed. "Here let me help."

He growled out at her and tried to gain purchase on the arms of the chair but it was so rickety that it groaned under his weight. Dana slapped at his hand. "Don’t be a baby, let me help you." She braced her feet against the chair and grabbed his hands. "Come on, let…me…help." She tugged and grunted and giggled. Her laugh was infectious and Skinner, now fighting to control his own laughter, grabbed hold and using her small stance as leverage flung himself up. And forward. And into her, pushing them both careening to the bed. Skinner now found himself laying on top of her small scantily covered body, their legs tangled, lips precious inches away. He gulped and tried to push himself off, but in doing so his hand grazed the soft skin of her abdomen, now exposed, the chemise having ridden up in the course of their awkward struggle. Blushing, he tried again but found now that her small hands gripped his shoulders. He looked into her vibrant blue eyes and drowned.

Scully gazed up and swallowed, trying to reassert her strict upbringing and the nuns’ teaching and found that everything had fled her conscious except the smoldering passion forming in the dark brown eyes of Skinner. She released his shoulder and brought her finger up to trace a tiny scar down the side of his face. The shudder that her touch set in motion skittered through his body and down to hers. When his hand "accidentally?"… touched her she had reveled in the sensation. She felt the hardness of him pressing into her soft belly and a wanton moan escaped her lips.

Skinner tried, he really tried to raise himself off of her but before he did he had to reach out and touch the incredible hair now fanned out around her face. The lamplight sparkled off of the ruby and gold strands. He fingered it reverently and then looked back into her eyes just as she was raising her head to him. He moved his hand under her head to support her and lowered his lips to meet hers.

Tides ebbed and waned, planets shifted and galaxies died and were born in that kiss. A circuit completed as electricity shot through them both. Neither knew how long it lasted but finally Skinner pulled away and gasped for breath. Dana whimpered at the loss of his touch and brought her tongue delicately to trace his lips, still hovering so close over hers. He swallowed painfully and closed his eyes. He brought his hand underneath her and grasping her tightly rolled them over so that she was out from underneath him. She stared down into his half- closed eyes and brought her knees up until she was straddling his abdomen. Bracing her hand on his broad chest she began to sensuously rub him up and down, catching at his vest. Holding her lip in her teeth she suddenly blushed and got up.

He groaned and brought his hand to his head. "Oh God. Dana. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…"

Her soft voice stopped him. "Don’t. I kissed you. I wanted you. It’s just..." She heard the bedsprings wail in protest as he pulled himself up right and then stand to come up behind her.

His hand caressed her bare arm, sending a new wave of tingles up her spine. "I understand, Dana. It’s just good girls don’t…"

Her whisper cut him off. "Don’t. I’m not…I’m not."

Skinner turned her around and gently brushed away the tear tracking down her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She buried her face in his chest. "I’m not a good girl. I’m not what you think I am. I-I-I…I’ve been with someone else."

Skinner's jaw clenched. Jealously claiming him. <<<Mulder>>> He thought. He stood back from her and waited for her to continue.

She stifled a sob. "There was a man in college - one of my professors. We used to talk about everything that I thought was so important. You know, ideas and ideals. He told me he didn’t believe in the institution of marriage and that only the bourgeoisie needed a marriage license to legalize what nature intended to be natural."

He swallowed back the hard lump forming in his throat as he watched her rub her cold arms and suddenly, feeling more ashamed of himself and all men he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her.

"I’m sorry," he whispered softly.

Her bitter laugh cut him to the core. "Don’t be. I believed him. I went to bed with him, gave him everything and would have been happy, until…" Skinner hugged her tighter. "Until I met his wife in the park one day."

Skinner kissed her head and softly murmured. "It doesn’t matter."

She pushed away from him and went and sat on the bed. "It should."

He knelt before her, his head now level with hers. "It doesn’t. I swear it."

She reached out and trailed her fingers down his jaw and around to play in the fringe at his neck. "I don’t even know your Christian name. Do I call you Mr. Skinner?" A small smile returned to her lips. "Perhaps Chief Superintendent?"

"Walter"

"Walter? I like that. Walter Skinner." She ran her hands along his shoulders easing the jacket off and down. He dropped his arms and allowed the coat to fall to the floor. He ran his hands along her legs, causing goose bumps to pop up all over her body. She threw her head back in ecstasy. "Oh my. Oh that feels so very good."

He paused staring at her. She felt him stiffen and she looked back into his eyes. "What? What is it?"

He gulped and then brought his hand to her chest. "What’s wrong. Why do you have a bandage wrapped around you? Are you hurt?"

The blush began some place where he couldn’t see yet but rapidly made it way up her chest and throat, past her jaw and straight into her hairline. "Well you see…uhm…I…" She huffed then and brought her arms around her protecting herself. "Well I was supposed to be a boy, wasn’t I? Boys don’t have the same…the same… the same body parts as girls do, you know."

Walter Skinner threw back his had and roared with laughter. He hugged her to him. Finally, calming down he touched her reverently. "Doesn’t it hurt."

Dana reddened even further. "Horribly," she admitted.

"Do you think we should do something about it?" Skinner asked, a shy smile forming on his face.

Emboldened Dana let her eyebrow arch. "What do you suggest?"

He sat back on his heels. "You do that very well, you know."

"Do what very well, Mr. Skinner?"

He touched her brow. "That thing you do with your eyebrow." His fingers trailed down caressing her cheek, her neck and down further until they rested just above the top of the bandage. "Would you like me to help you…uhm…unwind this."

Dana paused and looked at him, kneeling before her. "Oh, I don’t know, you want me to be naked before you and yet you are rather…Ah…shall we say…modestly attired still."

Walter pushed back and up and before he was fully standing, his tie was already off and flung to the bureau behind her. He could see his reflection in the cracked and tarnished mirror. His vest and his shirt were tossed on the now ruined chair, bracing the door. He toed off his shoes and socks and stood before her in only his slacks. She reached out and touched the button at his waist. Her tongue peeking out from between her lips, she gently released it from the buttonhole. She worked her way down to the next button, her hand now touching the bulge there. She looked up into his eyes and his hands came down and caressed hers before gently pushing them away. He completed the job himself, easing his pants down and off, tossing them away to join the rest of his clothes on the chair. He held out his hand to her and pulled her standing into a tight embrace. "Are you sure you want this, Dana?"

She kissed his chest and ran her fingers up and down his back. "Show me, Walter. Show me what good girls aren’t supposed to feel."

He brought his hands up to the chemise and tugged it over her head. She raised her arms high and let him remove the garment and then stood there while he studied the wrap around her bosom. He found the end, under her arm and began to unwrap her.

It was like every Christmas and birthday gift he had ever imagined opening. Slowly, adoringly he removed each layer until it gently fell from her. He dropped it to the floor and stepped back to admire her. "Oh, God! So beautiful." He dropped to his knees before her and she hugged his head to her belly, caressing his head, running her fingers lightly over his head and tracing his ears. He began his assault on her senses then. Placing tiny, whispering kisses along her belly, teasing and tickling her bellybutton and finally pushing her back to sit on the bed he brought his hands up to squeeze and worry her perfect globes. Sensations she had never experienced before skittered through her body down to her groin, her sex now damp with moisture and he hadn’t even touched her there yet.

Moans and whimpers were the only form of communication left to her. She arched her body into his touch, bracing herself on the edge of the bed and nearly arching off completely when his warm lips captured her nipple. He began a gentle sucking and licking attack that brought a cry of joy to her lips. The burning feeling deep in her stomach had settled in her loins and she longed to have him touch her there. "Show me, Walter. Show me all the things that are supposed to be so very bad."

"Lay back," he groaned. When she complied, he slowly dragged her undergarments down. She raised her hips as he slipped them off. Then he set to work on the laces on her boots and then her stockings. Once she was naked before him, he began a slow northward campaign. Nipping, licking and kissing. When he reached her knee he raised her leg slightly so he could kiss the back of it and she thought she would come off the bed. She raised herself up on her elbows and watched as he worked his way closer to her desire, his fingers leading the charge, his tongue bringing jolts of pleasure. Nature took over and she spread her legs, exposing herself more than she thought she ever could. His lips finally touched her core and a climax, so intense that she thought she would die from the pleasure, rolled over her. He lapped at her as wave after wave of sensation overtook her. He crawled up to her breasts and teased them some more before continuing on until he lay beside her, his hand still resting in her curls, circling, tugging and teasing while he stared into her passion drugged eyes. She brought her hand to his chest and was surprised when he jerked at her touch. He brought his lips to hers and she tasted salt and sweet there, knowing she was tasting herself. He pressed his tongue against her lips, demanding entrance and as she parted them he plunged into her, sharing the taste of her more as he plundered her mouth. He pulled back and gently bit her lower lip pulling it into his mouth.

She felt his fingers playing at her channel, delving, exploring her soul. She arched into his questing fingers as he plunged first one and then a second deep within her, stretching her. An intense wave hit her again and she cried out his name as her spasms shook them both. When she had calmed down he brought his fingers, now sopping with her essence to his lips and slowly licked them clean. She knew then that she was his. That she would do anything that he ever wanted her to as long as he gave her this incredible feeling. She swallowed and whispered. "Can I touch you, now?"

He raised an eyebrow in surprise but scooted around until his back was against the rough headboard, only one thin pillow supporting his back. He rested his hands at his side and his eyes bore into hers, with a smile in his voice he whispered back, "touch all you want, Doctor Scully."

She traced his pecs and studied carefully the fine details of the hair growing so thickly on his chest. She trailed her hand over his own tiny nipples and was surprised and pleased to see that they hardened to erect little pebbles, much like her own. She noticed with an almost clinical detachment that his breathing had increased and his heart rate had definitely risen. She reached down flicked on of the nipples with her tongue, as he had done to her and was pleased with the moan that escaped his lips. She allowed her hands to trace the dark line of hair leading down to the waistband of his long cotton underwear. She tugged and he lifted his hips so she could pull them down and off. She sat back in awe. His erection stood upright only slightly curved. She reached out to touch the tip and felt a small drop of moisture there. Keeping her eyes locked on his she mimicked his actions and brought her finger to her lips.

Walter Skinner had never in his life experienced anything like this. Sex with Sharon had been perfunctory at best. He had never known how to approach her with anything more than what he assumed she felt was normal. He had been with whores after Sharon’s defection, but never had he felt like this. He was torn between his fascination with Dana’s actions and his growing need to possess her. He forced his hands to knead the sheets as he saw what she planned to do next and he growled low in his throat as she brought her lips to his swollen member. Slowly she mimicked what she remembered the blonde doing in the club. Circling the thick head with her tongue she covered as much of his shaft as she could. She wrapped both hands around him and began to explore the rest of his penis and scrotal sac below it. He bucked up into her hands and mouth and she jerked away. "Did I do something wrong?"

He reached up and pulled her to his chest, bringing his lips to hers. "Lord, no. It was just too much. I need you Dana. I need to be in you. Is that all right?"

She gulped and nodded and he lowered her to the bed. He knelt between her glistening thighs and guided himself to her opening. Keeping his eyes locked on hers he lowered himself slowly until he could go no deeper, filling her, joining with her soul and in that one brief second of completion their eyes widened in recognition and memory. Imagines filtered by immeasurable time passed between them in that second. Gladiator and Christian, Druid and Viking, Crusader and Arab Princess melded into their souls once again and for just a brief second they knew they would always be together in this lifetime and all lifetimes to come. One final image burned itself on Dana’s soul as she saw him, long into the future, looking down at her with infinite sadness as she gazed up at the countless stars above them. The here and now reclaimed them and he began to rock and move in her. She had never had the knowledge or the time to move with Jack but now she met Walter thrust for thrust, move for move, neither of them breaking eye contact. She could feel his heavy balls beating against her firm ass and she reveled in that sensation too. The intensity that she had no name for began to seize her again, and again she began her whimpering fevered moan.

He plunged into her repeatedly, brutally, he feared, filling her, needing only her, knowing that she possessed his very being forever. He arched his back filling her completely, sending them both spiraling out of control.

He collapsed, pulling them both to their sides. Panting, like he had just run the length of England he held her to his sweaty chest. They lay there until the chill became uncomfortable. He found the second thin sheet she had left at the foot of the bed and pulled it over them but then got up and padded over to grab his great coat and brought that back to lay over them. Then he hugged her to him and they fell asleep.

Part 8 - 9

Home     ::    X-Files Index     ::    e-mail