NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: SRA

RATING: NC-17, and I mean it. WARNING! THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC SEXUAL SITUATIONS AND VIOLENCE. There are several Slash scenes, one of which is a rape. There is also plenty of consensual sex between the characters. Forewarned is forearmed. If you don't care for the physical, graphic stuff, STOP HERE!

SUMMARY: This is a direct sequel to my stories "Innigkeit". and "Allegro dans Adagio" It is the conclusion of the trilogy. You must read the other two stories first or this one won't make any sense. Now, on with the summary: We all have to pay for the consequences of our actions. Skinner, Scully and Mulder find out the truth of that statement. Oh yes, the truth is out there and a painful truth it can be. FEEDBACK? LOVE IT - FEEL FREE TO E-MAIL ME. Comments, suggestions and healthy debate are always welcome. Flames? Flames are for roasting 'weenies' with a marshmallow chaser.

TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: The events take place after my other two stories other than that I guess it's sometime after this season. Please note: I have messed with the mytharc a bit in this story. We have to assume that Marita did not get the black cancer etc. and that some of the events in the fifth season didn't occur. Which actually might not be such a bad idea! HA!

KEYWORDS: story romance angst Skinner Scully Mulder NC-17

DISCLAIMER: Walter Skinner, Dana Scully, and Fox Mulder, and Marita Covarrubias belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use.

Fortissimo into Crescendo
by frogdoggie

Fortissimo - 1: very loud - used spe. as a direction in music 2: a very loud passage, sound or tone.
INTO:
Crescendo - 1: a gradual increase specif: a gradual increase in volume of a musical passage 2: the peak of a gradual increase: CLIMAX
--Webster's Dictionary

PROLOGUE:

"Are you using the relaxation exercises I gave you, Walter?"

"Yes."

"Successfully?"

"Yes."

"So, you...you feel more in control of your anger now?"

"More in control, yes. I'm even off the ulcer meds."

"Excellent. I'm very glad to hear that Walter."

"Thank you."

"Now, how are you eating? Any more episodes of nausea, or vomiting?"

"No. I'm eating like a horse and it's all staying down."

"Good."

"Fine."

"Good."

"You have gained some weight back. You look better I must say."

"Thanks, yes. I'm even back in the weight room again. I'll have to be now that my appetite's normal."

"That's fine. I think the exercise is a good channel for your anger and the anxiety as well. Eat well balanced meals regularly, exercise regularly, remember the relaxation techniques, get plenty of sleep..."

"Does the sleep part pose a problem, Walter?"

"What?"

"I said the word sleep and you flinched."

"Oh, Sorry. I had a cramp in my leg."

"All right."

"You've said you're not having any more nightmares, is that correct, Walter?"

"Yes."

"So you're not having trouble sleeping then?"

"Not at all."

"Walter, do you realize what you're doing with your body right now? I mean the way you're sitting?"

"Walter, you have your arms crossed tightly across your chest. Your legs are crossed as well. Plus you've moved back away from me in the chair."

"Walter..."

"What?"

"That posture means you're retreating from me, trying to shut me out. When I asked you about the nightmares you automatically went into that defensive posture."

"So..."

"So, I can only assume you're trying to avoid the subject of your nightmares."

"I'm not avoiding anything. I don't avoid."

"Walter, you're avoiding my questions right now."

"I'm not avoiding them Doctor, I just haven't answered them."

"That's a counterproductive attitude, Walter."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be counterproductive."

"Well, if you don't mean to be counterproductive then you'll answer my question about the nightmares. Are you still having bad dreams?"

"I think I'm having more good dreams then bad dreams."

"Then you ARE having nightmares?"

"All right, damn it. Yes, I AM having nightmares."

"Every night?"

"No."

"Once a week?"

"On average."

"Are they Vietnam nightmares or are you still having the nightmares about Agents Scully and Mulder?"

"No, I seem to have narrowed down the subject matter to just Vietnam now."

"Yes."

"The nightmares are a classic symptom of PTSD. I'd still like you to see Pete Marovitch, Walter, over at the VA. I think his group would help you..."

"I know we've talked about this before. I'll consider it. Right now I can handle things. The...the dreams are getting fewer and farther between. I don't think I'm suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I had trouble once just before and then after that incident with the prostitute. But I haven't had any more of those type of nightmares. I think the sleep clinic cured me of those. I think with getting back to my routine, the relaxation techniques, regular meals - well, I think all of that is helping me to control my anger. I feel much better about myself in general."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Walter. But I want you to know that if the nightmares continue I'll have to make treatment at the VA mandatory and it will go into your file as such."

"But..."

"Walter, I know you're seeing me voluntarily now mostly because you know by doing so nothing...career impacting can be put in your file. I'd hate to see that happen Walter."

"Fine. I'll call Dr. Marovitch this afternoon."

"I think that's a very good decision, Walter."

"You're welcome, Walter. I'll see you next week."

xXx

It was a cold winter day early in February. Dana Scully was warm and snug in bed underneath her thick down comforter. She was awake early on Saturday morning. Awake but she wasn't ready to get up. She was just too darn comfortable. She snuggled up close to the warm, hard, body sleeping next to her. It certainly was nice to wake up and cuddle next to the warmth of someone else's mini-blast furnace. She smiled slightly as she contemplated just how much more nice it was then her old electric blanket.

She snaked an arm up and over his athletic chest and hugged her human foot warmer. She looked up into his face and then her smile grew very gentle and her eyes filled with love. He'd fallen asleep with his glasses on she thought. Bless his heart. God, she did love him almost beyond words. He looked so handsome and very sweet, younger and boyish in his glasses. He was sound asleep and the specs wiggled slightly with each exhalation of his breath.

At least he hadn't brought home work, a file or a report that needed completion. Nope, he'd curled up with a good book after they'd made love last night. She'd fallen asleep in his arms. He must have gotten restless (or maybe a nightmare? God, she hoped that wasn't the reason), and extricated himself at some point. The bedside lamp shade was angled way down out of consideration for her. The book he was reading had fallen down on his opposite side sometime after he'd drifted off. It had slipped to the floor. He lay on his back now, his mouth slightly open and his brow unlined in sleep.

Scully reached up gently and started to remove his specs. It wouldn't do for him to roll over on them and wake up. He looked too relaxed and peaceful for once. As her fingers gently lifted the glasses off his nose, a graceful hand came up and over hers.

"Gottcha," Fox Mulder said sleepily, and then he opened his eyes and blinked, smiling over at her, "I just knew you'd try to have your way with me again this morning, you insatiable wench. You're undressing me all ready."

She lifted the glasses the rest of the way off and reaching over Mulder's face deposited them on the night stand.

Mulder had what was now for him one of the world's most sublime vistas - a view of Dana Scully's undressed tit, up close and personal. He reached up and sucked her taut nipple into his mouth.

"God, Mulder!" Scully laughed, "Watch out. I almost dropped your glasses!"

He released her nipple and turned to face her as she dropped back beside him.

"Just thought I'd play alarm clock, Agent Scully," he grinned wickedly as he stroked her naked hip.

"Well watch out - I might have to hit the snooze button," Scully quipped in return and then she ran her hand down under the covers to find his penis.

"You can smack that button anytime you like, Doc," Mulder chuckled as she trailed her fingers over him.

It had taken Scully and Mulder five months from the day since they had almost severed their commitment to each other to get to Friday night - their first night as lovers. It had taken them that long to get over the turmoil of their experiences with Walter Skinner, the Fairfax County Home for Wayward Boys and an incident in a garbage strewn alleyway in back of Casey's bar.

When Mulder had returned to Scully's apartment after his fight with her and then his drunken altercation with Skinner in the alley - both of them had been determined to salvage their friendship, partnership and then to begin a real relationship.

Mulder's confrontation with Skinner had been painful both physically and mentally but it had made him realize that he did indeed love Dana Scully, and he had been a total clueless jerk to think otherwise. He also knew that Scully couldn't possibly be in love with Walter Skinner. What had happened between Scully and the A.D. was the result of Scully and Mulder's reluctance to admit their love for each other, Mulder's years of inattention, Scully and Skinner's desperate loneliness and the heat of the moment. It hadn't been serious and it was most definitely over now. Oh yes, most definitely.

Scully had realized she'd made a horrible error in having sex with Skinner the second time. The first time had been a matter of life or death. The second time had been a matter of lust. She had finally reconciled most of the emotions and reasons for her decision to act on her sexual needs with the help of a counselor, Mary Conrad, Karen Kosseff's associate. She felt much better about herself, Mulder, Skinner and the entire situation. She wasn't completely healed but she was a far cry from the confused, anxiety ridden woman she had been five months earlier.

Mulder hadn't sought counseling. He probably never would. He was that stubborn and as a psychologist the worst of patients anyway. But he had talked to Scully, endlessly it seemed, about his feelings regarding the incident. It helped a lot just for him to talk to her. It went a long way towards relieving his mental anguish. At this point, he seemed to have reconciled most of the issues as well. Certainly they still had their moments but for the most part things had gone back to normal regarding their friendship and work partnership.

They had waited to become lovers. This was a decision by mutual consent. After the pain of the revelations about Skinner and the months of healing they just weren't quite ready for that final physical connection. They decided to wait for the right magical moment.

Friday night had been the *Magical Mystery Tour*. Mulder had asked Scully out after work and they'd gone to dinner at a quiet little Japanese restaurant. The meal had been wonderful. They had talked about things, really talked for once. Scully thought Mulder had looked more relaxed then she'd seen him in a long time. Mulder thought Scully looked radiant.

Scully actually got tickled when Mulder starting regaling her with the names of all the Japanese monsters from Godzilla to Rodan and the names of the films they had appeared in. Trust Mulder to talk about the destruction of Tokyo while they dined on sushi in a Japanese restaurant.

They'd driven back to her apartment and parked the car several blocks down just so they could stretch their legs a bit after the meal. This proved to be a mixed blessing as it soon became apparent it was cold enough that night to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. Or as Mulder had put it - the brash balls off a Fox Mulder.

They had ended up running the last half block to her apartment door and then laughing as she fumbled with cold hands to get her keys in the lock. Scully figured it had been the cold that caused what happened next. Mulder joked that maybe it was the remark about the brash balls and Scully's natural scientific curiosity.

In any event they had fallen into each other's embrace almost as soon as they were inside the door and from that point on it had been pandemonium.

Well, they'd never been together of course so they had to adjust. They needed to learn where the parts fit best. Mulder's nose getting in the way. Scully's height difference. But they soon managed to cope. By the time they got naked and were in Scully's bed, things were moving along quite a bit more smoothly. Oh yes indeed. Lots of body talk. They were more than hot, wet and ready. No illegal entry this time and once everyone was in rhythm the song remained the same - She shook me all night long, and God it was a long time coming.

5 years, 5 months, 12 hours 32 minutes and 16 seconds and Dana Katherine Scully and Fox William Mulder finally came together screaming each others names in ecstasy.

Now on Saturday morning it looked like they were heading for a repeat performance. A very pleasurable encore, oh yes.

"Do you like the way this feels?" Scully was asking as she fingered Mulder's testicles. She rolled them between her fingers and then stroked the sensitive skin just behind his balls with her fingernails.

"Uh, Oh yeah. You could say that's right up near the top on the old enjoyment meter, yes ma'am," he gasped slightly as she switched over to stroking his cock. He was rapidly stiffening under her hands. He pinned her eyes. Scully raised an eyebrow. He raised his in return and then closed his eyes. He was grinning with his eyes tightly shut savoring the sensations of her hands on his entire length.

"God that does feel SO good," he thought. He could still hardly believe someone else was doing this for him. Could hardly realize he didn't have to resort to pulling his own pud. The fact that it was Dana Scully was almost an X-File in itself. But Lord, he loved her, and making love with her was beyond the most marvelous thing in the world.

Scully wanted to give Mulder what he had given her last night. The most earth shattering orgasm she had ever had in her life. Mulder as a lover far surpassed anyone she had been with before. Even Walter Skinner hadn't been as fulfilling although the A.D. had been no slouch. It was just that with Mulder the total package was there: love, trust, respect and one hell of a talented mouth, tongue and hands. And Good Lord let's not forget his dick.

And he'd told her he was worried he wouldn't measure up. Scully still laughed over that remark. No worries there she'd told him. No Sir! She had ample firsthand evidence of that fact. In fact she was examining the evidence right now and the facts were insurmountable. Well, maybe insurmountable wasn't quite the right word. She laughed to herself as she shifted and threw back the covers so she could get a better look at the evidence and make her final findings known.

"Jesus, Scully, it's cold," Mulder opened his eyes and laughed as the covers flew down and half off the bed. He rolled over onto his back again and Scully followed him, shifting over his torso to straddle his thighs in back of his erection.

"Not for very much longer," she smiled and then she began to pump his erection with a slow erotic movement of her hand.

"Oh God," Mulder moaned. He shut his eyes again and tilted his head back. "Oh yeah, that's...good." His hips began to buck on their own. One hand wound around the edge of the comforter that still remained on the bed.

Mulder brought his other hand up and stroked Scully's right nipple lightly. Scully pushed his hand down.

"Relax, lover, this is for you this morning. I can wait. Just let me do the work."

Mulder opened his eyes and looked into hers. She had such a look of devilment in them he gave her a really wide smile, showing a lot of teeth.

"I'm putty in your hands, Doctor," he said, his breath shuddering with his arousal. He closed his eyes again as she continued her erotic massage of his cock.

Some fluid appeared at the tip. Scully swirled the pre-cum around the head. Mulder was really breathing hard by that point. Scully came to a decision. What the heck she thought. I might as well go along for the ride. She shifted up and forward and then down onto his length.

"Whoa!" Mulder yelped in pleased surprise. He grinned as Scully moved up and then back down. When she repeated the motion he groaned, "I love...Oh...the way you feel...it's...oh..." He lost his thought as he gripped Scully's hips to help her find her rhythm. He arched up his hips, thrusting to meet her pumping ass.

Mulder moved his hands up and down her torso teasing her ass and then her tits, each nipple in turn and finally he let his hands trail down between her thighs. He began to stroke her above where his cock entered her body.

"Ohohoh," she whispered as he rubbed and tugged at her clit, "Yes, that, that's...right there, yes."

Mulder was finding it hard to concentrate on what his hands were doing. He wanted to be gentle with Scully at all costs and to bring her off first because he enjoyed it so much when she came for him. The view at the moment would be really spectacular but he was a little worried his lose of concentration was causing her some pain or delaying her pleasure.

"Is this too hard?" he just managed to gasp out as his fingers stroked her clit.

"No, no, s'fine. OHGOD I'm so close," She was panting heavily and then Mulder felt her entire body stiffen. She arched her head back and moaned loudly as her orgasm convulsed through her entire body.

"Oh God, you're so beautiful," he whispered as she rode him towards the height of her pleasure.

Mulder felt her vice-like spasms along the length of his cock. Damn she was tight. It felt fantastic. He desperately wanted to take advantage of her inner embrace. He wanted to come along with her. He gently maneuvered himself so that he could roll her over onto her back. She was laughing and shaking as he did it. Scully had all ready found out he had really powerful legs, runner's legs, and it had tickled her Friday night as well.

Her knees came up automatically and Mulder grasped her legs as well, positioning them over either shoulder so he could began to drive into her really hard and deep. He groaned with each thrust and Scully grabbed for his ass to urge him on. Her arms didn't quite reach put she ended up holding one of his hands as he went over the edge into a roaring orgasm. "OGODSCULLY!" He howled her name as he came and then they both collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs and heavy breathless laughter.

"Oh Lord, Mulder you feel SO good," Scully was giggling like hell as Mulder embraced her. He was still inside and she trailed a hand down to give his balls a gentle caress.

"Tickles," Mulder chuckled and then he was tickling her breasts with his eyelashes and then kissing them, and her neck and face.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Oh God, I love you too," she replied kissing him on both cheeks.

Later, after Mulder had gently pulled out, they lay touching and talking. The clock said 6 AM.

"Can't tell with the blinds and curtains closed, Agent Scully," Mulder replied drowsily.

"Do you want to sleep a little longer?" she asked, "you probably need it," she teased rubbing his stomach.

"Maybe another hour," Mulder replied placing his hand over hers. He caressed her fingers, "then I want to go for a run."

"Great, I'll go with you. Go back to sleep. I'll reset the alarm."

Mulder smiled and drifted off again as Scully reached for the clock.

It had been a rough week Scully thought. Their last case had wrapped up fine, well as fine as an X-File ever did, but they had been through the wringer. Friday night had been a blessed relief in more ways then one. The only thing that hadn't been tense was their meeting with Skinner. He had been polite, firm but fair and deemed their work first rate and the report A-1. And he hadn't been just stroking their egos. Both Scully and Mulder knew it was a job well done.

Skinner had asked Scully to stay a moment afterwards. By this time Mulder was confident that nothing was going down between the two of them and he had made some little joke for Skinner's benefit to let him know he thought things were ok. Scully still wanted Mulder to talk to the A.D. face to face about what had happened in the alley as well as between her and Skinner. He wasn't quite ready but he was close. In the meantime he tried to be civil and careful in his dealings with Walter Skinner.

After Mulder left his office, Skinner had gotten up and sat down on the edge of his desk. Scully stood by his door. She was a little nervous still about talking to him on a personal level and the distance helped her to cope with her trepidation.

"So, are you doing all right?" he asked her.

"Fine, sir. I've been seeing Mary Conrad. I'm...working out some issues."

"Good. Great. Uh, I just wanted to let you know I'm...I'm in counseling with Karen Kosseff, Scully. Also I'm participating in some group sessions at the VA. I really want to get over those damn nightmares. It's a pretty good bunch of guys. Top notch psychologist as well."

"Oh, I am glad to hear that, really, sir. I know you'll feel a lot better after talking it out." Scully had been worried about Skinner. He'd lost weight in recent weeks and seemed more tired than usual. She still cared about his welfare. The lust part would always be there but she had learned to deal with that emotion. She knew she didn't love him but she still respected him as her friend and superior, and wished the best for him. If only he could find someone to care for, and to care for him.

"I do feel better. So, at any rate, I just wanted you to know what was going on. I thought you deserved to know that uh, I was getting some help," he ended, clearing his throat.

"I appreciate your telling me, sir. I hope you realize I'm not angry for what happened and I only wish the best for you." She said quietly looking down at the floor.

"I know that Scully, thank you," Skinner said.

Scully looked back up. Skinner was staring off out his window at nothing. He had a wistful look on his face but no anger. He did look more relaxed Scully thought. Just a bit more at peace then usual.

"Will that be all?" she asked.

"Yes, that's all Scully. You're dismissed."

Scully said a silent prayer for Walter Skinner. She devoutly hoped that he would find a good and decent woman with which to share his life and love. He had a lot to offer Scully thought. And speaking of a lot to offer...all thoughts of Skinner left her mind as she cuddled up close to Mulder's sleeping form and hugged him tight.

xXx

It had taken Walter S. Skinner four months to get up the guts to ask Marita Covarrubias out. Four months since that night in the yuppie bar near his apartment. He had run into her unexpectedly that night while getting shit-faced drunk in an attempt to drown his sorrows over his recent disastrous experiences with Dana Scully and Fox Mulder. Walter pretty much figured he'd destroyed three people's lives and he really only cared about two of them. Scully and Mulder didn't deserve what he had done to them. He just deserved to die.

He had come close to dying that night. At least he wanted to believe Mulder could have pulled the trigger and sent him into blissful, non-caring oblivion. But of course, logically he knew Mulder would never send that bullet into his guts. He knew he would have had to pull the trigger himself and at the last instant he thought that wouldn't have been fair either. Mulder would have ultimately been charged with murder and how was that going to help matters? So, suicide was out. At least suicide by gun. He had decided to take the second best way out that night. Slow death through cirrhosis of the liver. He had been working on that plan when Marita had found him.

He hadn't been glad to see her at all at first. In fact he'd gone out of his way to be really rude to her. What he didn't want that night was more feminine company - no sir. He'd had enough of that earlier when he'd banged Dana Scully up against her apartment wall in what had been the best fuck he'd had in ages. Well, the second best. The first had been when he'd screwed Scully in the Fairfax County Home for Wayward Boys. Jesus. He just wanted it all to go away. He wanted Marita to go away too. He'd downed the last bourbon in the hopes that he'd start thinking she was a hallucination brought on by a roaring case of the DTs and she would just disappear when he sobered up. If he ever sobered up he thought with bitterness.

But Marita had just sat impassively on the bar stool next to him and talked of inconsequential things. She started out telling him what she thought about the bar. She laughed and said she hoped he wouldn't judge her by the fact that she was drinking in such a trendy place. She had only come there with some of the people from her DC office. Marita was based at the UN in New York of course, but she was in DC frequently enough that she had a base of operations downtown as well. She said this bar was supposed to be all the rage but she thought it was highly overrated, tacky and as boring as hell. Just another shallow yuppie watering hole she said with a sigh and a little self-depreciating smile.

Skinner had laughed ruefully and said well it was shallow, but as long as his glass was bottomless he didn't give a shit and bartender please pass that bottle again. Marita had actually guffawed at his rude joke. Skinner had laughed again in a more friendly manner and some ice was broken.

Marita moved on to other topics.

Gradually Skinner had stopped being so rude and started to make small talk. Well, his version of small talk. He wasn't good at idle conversation at all. But Marita seemed to enjoy what he was saying so he kept up his end of the conversation. He started to realize that she was intelligent, warm and witty and he didn't mind as much that she was sitting next to him on the other barstool.

Finally after a time his head had started to fall forward and then snap up quickly. All the stress and strain of the day and evening were catching up with him at last. He was embarrassed now because he was indeed almost falling down drunk and nearly asleep on his feet to boot. It was nearly dawn and he needed to get home and he wasn't sure he could even stand much less walk.

Marita had smiled at his discomfort and embarrassment. She'd touched his arm lightly and told him she'd help him get home. It was only 2 blocks after all. She thought if he held her arm to steady himself she could help him get to his apartment building. So he did. And she did. Marita wasn't much shorter than Skinner and she seemed to have a grip of iron as she held his arm. It was lucky she was strong because Skinner WAS stumbling a bit. But, they made it to the high rise without any trouble. She had left him at the glass entrance asking if he'd be all right going the rest of the way. He'd said "Yes," he could certainly manage from there. He remembered to thank her and she had said, "Don't mention it, Walter," and patting him on the arm had gone to hail a cab.

That had been over four months ago. During that time, Skinner had been in therapy three times a week with the Bureau Employee Assistance Officer - read shrink - Karen Kosseff and had begun to attend group therapy for Vietnam Veterans at the VA hospital with Dr. Peter Marovitch. Of the two he preferred the group. At least he had something in common with all of them. Karen Kosseff was almost like one of Mulder's UFO aliens as far as he was concerned - gray, big eyed and intent on probing him in a most unpleasant way. Yes, Kosseff could be a royal pain in the ass. But she did seem to be helping him as much as he didn't like to admit it. So between the group mind grope and Karen Kosseff's brain drain, Walter Skinner was starting to come to terms with what had happened in The Fairfax County Home for Wayward Boys.

Besides, Skinner had an even more powerful reason for going to all that therapy voluntarily. He was avoiding something all right - he WAS avoiding the destruction of his career and as such the removal of one more impediment to the conspiracy's plans - Walter Skinner. And that made even Karen Kosseff's weekly grillings a walk in the park.

So, four months elapsed and Skinner was feeling marginally better and more self confident about himself then he had felt in a long time.

The next time Marita was in town she had extended business. One of her stops had been at the Hoover Building. Skinner knew it had been business with Fox Mulder despite her clever cover story involving international drug trafficking. Skinner also knew of course, that Marita Covarrubias was Mulder's contact at the UN. She was a mysterious figure at best. Perhaps something more as well if she had some kind of hidden agenda. Skinner's knowledge of Marita's dubious credentials coupled with his emotional turmoil had kept him from talking to her again before that day. But on that afternoon, the fact that he was feeling better, and that Mulder seemed to trust Marita tipped him over the edge into asking her out. His new found confidence not withstanding, he was certain that Mulder's trust was not something to dismiss lightly.

However, Walter Skinner did have another reason for seeing Marita again as well. In the back of his mind, nagging and threatening to really drag him dangerously close to depression, (something that would keep him in Kosseff's clutches even longer), was the fact that he knew a video tape of him and Scully balling their brains out and screaming for more, was sitting around somewhere. The tape was lying in some godforsaken safe, or safety deposit box or wherever, temporarily hidden from the world until it was provident to drag it out and obliterate them both. If there was even a remote possibility that Marita could help him track down that piece of evidence from the night in the Boys Home he would be more than happy to squire her around town until hell froze over.

So he had run into her in the Hoover building and had asked her to lunch. Lunch had turned into an afternoon at the National Gallery and then a light dinner. That had been their first *date*. On the second they had an early dinner and then went to see *Titanic* (God what an insipid piece of...). When he had driven her home, Marita had asked him upstairs for coffee in the rented apartment that he hadn't been too surprised to discover she kept in Annapolis. He had declined. He remembered only too well what had happened the last time a woman had invited him into her apartment. Dana Scully probably still had the bruises on her ass to mark the moment. He wasn't ready to go there yet. Not for a while. Fuck me, Skinner had thought. Nope - wrong choice of words - shoot me was more like it.

Now, this was the beginning of month number 5 of therapy and a month since he had first asked Marita out. Skinner was seated across the table from Marita Covarrubias in a quiet little Italian restaurant and he had to admit it - OK - he liked her company. He could really think of a hell of a lot worse places to be on a Saturday night. Yeah like a garbage strewn alley with a gun shoved in his guts. He shook his head to get rid of that image, and turned back to his dinner companion, a slight smile on his face.

"Well, if they could get a solid defensive line they might have a better chance."

"Decent offense wouldn't hurt either," Marita joked, "I don't suppose there's any danger seeing the Skins in the SuperBowl anytime soon, unfortunately."

"Right. I wonder if we'll even see the Packers there again this season," Skinner mused taking a sip of his wine.

"After that lackluster Bowl game last year they'll have to work at it. They need to get some youth on that defensive line too, I think. Reggie White should have stayed retired and made some room."

Skinner laughed, "Room for two guys if *The Minister of Defense* took a permanent seat on the bench."

Marita laughed as well, "Well, Mike Holmgren is a talented coach..."

"Yeah, Lombardi would have been proud, I guess," Skinner nodded placing his glass back down on the table. He noticed Marita's glass was empty, "More wine?" he asked.

"Thanks, just half a glass," she answered. Skinner poured the red wine.

"Walter, did you ever play football?"

"Football - no. Not even in high school. Why?"

"Well, with your build I just thought..."

Skinner smiled in amusement. "Yeah, well...I didn't play football. I was on the wrestling team in high school actually. And I did play a little basketball as well."

"Wrestling? My older brother Randall wrestled in high school. He was a fantastic wrestler. All conference his senior year. I used to beg my folks to take me to his matches when I was a little girl. He'd tell me he was going to win for me and he usually did..." she let her voice trail off. She looked down into her plate and pushed at a bit of veal. Her mind seemed to drift for a moment.

"What weight?" Skinner asked studying the top of her bent head.

"Hmmmm?" Marita asked coming back to reality.

"At what weight did he wrestle?" Skinner asked. He'd always been a heavy weight. Never had to sweat to make his weight either. And he'd been good. All-state all 4 years. But he wasn't going to tell Marita. It smacked of ego and he didn't like displays like that in front of anyone.

"Oh. Light weight. Small but wiry," she chuckled, "That was Randy." She had a far away look in her eyes. Skinner studied her. Yes, Marita was a very pleasant, smart, attractive woman. Not bad company at all. He took another sip of his wine and then decided he'd better finish the remainder of his manicotti before it got cold. Marita picked at what was left of her veal again.

"You went to Vietnam right after high school didn't you Walter?" Marita suddenly asked very quietly.

"What?"

"You enlisted right after high school right?"

"Uh, Yes. I was in Nam." Skinner answered raising an eyebrow.

"I knew you were a vet..." she mumbled.

"Class of '73?" Marita asked puzzled.

"Well, why your arrival? I mean why not a graduation date - I would think they'd want to know..."

Skinner shook his head and Marita stopped talking.

"No one cares about your graduation date, Marita. You might - but the rest of the world gives a shit. The old-timers figure fresh meat - the new arrivals - are unlikely to make it to the graduation party. So, I was class of 1973 - 13 month tour of duty to start, and welcome to the war, Walter."

"Oh."

"Oh, I just...Randy was MIA that's all, and...I knew you...I..." Incredibly Marita was tearing up and Skinner stared at her open mouthed for a second. <Oh crap.>

"Jesus, what the hell?" he thought, "Hey, hey, what's this now..." he stammered, flustered. He grabbed for his table napkin and then thought, "Christ, I've been using the God damned thing to wipe..."

"Oh, God, Walter, I'm sorry, how stupid of me...I can't believe I'd get emotional over such an old memory. Ignore me, please...Oh, how embarrassing..." Marita dithered.

Skinner frowned. The dithering blonde really didn't become her he thought with momentary suspicion. But then he thought, "Oh fuck that, stupid! So what - she's hurting! Do something to comfort her you big dick. Christ - this was her brother for God's sake."

"No, no, it's OK, Marita. God, there's no shame in getting upset over losing someone that way. No shame at all."

"The worst part is not knowing what ever happened to him, Walter...not knowing," she reached for the napkin in her lap.

Walter sat staring. He was at a total lose. He never knew what to do around a crying woman. He felt like a complete buffoon.

"I'm sorry..." was all he could whisper.

Marita sniffed and used her own napkin to wipe her eyes. She turned to the side as she delicately blotted her nose with the cloth square. "I appreciate you saying that, really. And excuse me - I hate crying. I end up looking like a chili pepper or something. My sinuses certainly feel like they've taken a dose of capsicum that's for sure," she snuffled her laughter.

"I know what you mean," Skinner chuckled trying to change the subject, "I bet this guy down in Tijauna once that I could eat more chili peppers then he could in one minute."

Marita started to laugh harder, "I don't think I want to hear the rest, Walter."

"Yeah, I know you don't" he laughed with her too.

"But I am sorry - really, I feel like I've ruined the evening," she said quietly.

"Ruined the evening? Don't be silly, Marita. No chance. I've...this is fine. No ruins on the horizon at all." Skinner replied. "Bull shit, can I make another lame joke?" he cringed silently, "Bull? Yeah, smack this dumb piece of meat with the hammer now and put me out of my misery."

"Ruins! Speaking of ruins? God. I imagine my face is a mess! Can you excuse me for a minute I...I just want to go freshen up," Marita smiled weakly.

"Oh, yes. Fine," Skinner replied. He stood up as Marita left the table.

"God, she's anything BUT fat," he thought. Point of fact, she was gorgeous. Well, with the raging libido he'd had going on for the last several months that observation was no surprise. Walter Skinner was gun shy now though. Sure he noticed Marita's physical attributes. God, she was just his type. Tall, blonde, leggy, nice tits etc. etc. But hell, he wasn't sure he was ready to get involved with anyone right now. The word *Rebound* jumped into his head. And the word had nothing to do with their earlier mention of basketball.

He was still getting over Dana Scully. Well, in truth he would never be over her. But he had to squash his feelings for her and move on. Scully was with Mulder now. She had been since the night Mulder had gone back to her apartment after Skinner had rocked and rolled his ass in back of Casey's bar. They were happy. He'd seen it for himself. And he was happy for them as well.

But, the memory of Scully in his arms and his lingering thoughts of love for her made him too emotionally exhausted to pursue a serious relationship right now he thought. Marita was fun and he did enjoy being with her but for the long term? No, not yet. Maybe not ever.

Skinner sighed as he waited for Marita to return. Presently she came back and started to sit down. Skinner stood again and reaching over pulled her chair out slightly.

"Listen, uh, would you like me to take you home?" Skinner asked quietly, "I can..."

"Take me home? Well...if you'd like. But only if you come up for a night cap this time, Walter. The bar owes you at least a night cap for making you sit here while I blubber into my veal scaloppini," she insisted.

Skinner smiled slightly, "I'll consider it if *your bar* serves bourbon."

"One bourbon, one scotch, one beer," Marita quipped.

Skinner blinked at her for a moment, and then laughter began to bubble out of somewhere deep inside his chest. He snorted loudly and then he tipped his head back and roared his first genuine belly laugh in months.

Skinner steered his car through traffic towards Annapolis. Marita sat next to him in the passenger seat gazing out the window. She was miles away he observed with a hint of sadness. She must be thinking of her brother again he thought. Shit. How many guys did he know that were MIA? None. All the guys he had known really well were dead. Including John *Cracker* Rand, his best friend. As the pundits said - War is Hell. Hell yeah - it sucked.

"Take a right up ahead," Marita said quietly.

Skinner remembered the route. He silently made the turn. Marita's apartment building loomed ahead of them. He pulled up a half block down when he saw a convenient parking spot.

He cut the engine and turned towards his passenger.

"Are you sure you want me to come up, Marita?" he asked glancing at his watch, "It's getting late."

"No, really, Walter. I'd like a night cap myself. And I hate to drink alone."

Skinner smiled ruefully. Been there, done that, he thought with self-condemnation, "All right," was all he said.

"It's not a school night, after all," Marita added with a chuckle.

"Right," Skinner nodded as Marita got out of the car. Skinner hastened to pull his door open. He walked over to the passenger side door and caught it for Marita as she climbed out.

Marita glanced up into his lenses, raising an eyebrow, "Walter, did anyone ever tell you, you have old fashioned manners?"

"Skinner felt his face getting slightly red. "Old fashioned manners? No," he mumbled as he shut the car door behind her. He activated the locks and alarm with his key chain attachment.

"Yes...you're a gentleman, Mr. Skinner. Someone must have raised you up right, as they say in the South," Marita grinned as she turned to walk towards the building.

He remembered his Mother kissing him on the cheek with tears in her eyes.

"Now, Walter, please remember what your Father and I taught you, Honey. Always conduct yourself like a gentleman. Be polite to everyone you meet. You're representing your country, son. You want to make a good impression."

"And son - always be a gentlemen to the women you meet. I mean all the women - whether they're white, black, red or yellow, do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Skinner had blushed to his black roots then. He'd had a full head of hair in 1973, and he was just still innocent enough to be terribly embarrassed at what his Mother was saying.

"Yes ma'am," he answered quietly. His mothers veiled references to that type of politeness had all ready been reinforced by his Uncle Jim, the WWII vet.

"Walter, my boy," he'd said handing him a box of condoms. "This ought to get you started. And for God's sake, be a gentlemen. Use the damn rubbers. Even those Saigon whore's will appreciate it if they don't have Skinner babies running around later. And hell, you don't know what you're liable to catch anyway. You don't want your dick dropping off."

His uncle's advice coupled with his Mother's admonishments about being a gentleman had insured that Walter Skinner never touched a woman during his entire tour of duty. Nope, he'd left the whores and Mash unit nurses to Cracker Rand. He'd even left his own sexual gratification up to Cracker one night in a Saigon hotel. Jesus. But mostly he'd beat his own meat with one hand while holding a back issue of Playboy or his favorite photo of Raquel Welch with the other.

If you could consider that being raised and taught to be a gentleman, then yup, Walter Skinner was a Miss Manners School graduate. But, in truth his mother had done her best with her son after the death of her husband. Walter Skinner had loved her. He had just wished she'd been a little more forthright and capable of coping instead of leaving much of his education up to Uncle Jim.

"I guess my Mother was to blame there," Skinner replied as he followed Marita to the apartment's main entrance.

"Blame? I don't think you should blame her Walter. I think she did womankind a service. I like the courtliness. It, it's refreshing," she said, tossing him a smile as she worked her key in the door's lock.

"I'll take that as a compliment then," Skinner replied in a low voice. He stood close to Marita. She had some kind of musky perfume on. It smelled very exotic, very...heady, really fine. He thought he recognized it. Yeah, it was Opium. His Executive Assistant Kimberly had worn that a couple of times. He had asked her what it was once because he thought he might get some for Sharon as a gift. Ha! Like perfume would have helped that lost cause. He sighed. He really didn't want to start thinking about his Ex-wife right now. Hell no.

Marita unlocked the door and Skinner pushed it open and held it for her as they both moved inside the building.

The inside of Marita's apartment was comfortable but anonymous. A home away from her real home in NYC. A place to lay her head down when she was in town on business. She explained to Walter that it was better than a hotel. They were usually too noisy and even more impersonal. So she had rented the apartment instead.

"Yeah, and hotels are a hell of a lot more public too," Skinner thought with suspicion as he looked around the living room, <Can it Mr. A.D. Let's just forget the office and the JOB for a minute. If this woman is Mata Hari who the hell cares anyway. She hasn't said one word about business and neither have I over 3 *dates*. Who gives a shit anyway. I'll just have my nightcap and be on my way.>

Marita was busying herself at the apartment's small wet bar. She had a fresh bottle of top shelf bourbon as promised Skinner noticed from his spot on the couch. He had watched her walk around the apartment with authority, hanging up her winter coat. Taking his coat for him and hanging it up as well. She didn't so much move as flowed in her domain. It was quite the sight to behold and Walter Skinner was beginning to realize that he could get a serious jones on for this woman if he wasn't careful. He really couldn't afford another disastrous affair. And getting involved with Marita Covarrubias could be disastrous. But of course in the back of his mind he thought he didn't want careful to enter into it and he didn't give a shit about whether he was flirting with disaster with a capital *D*. However, his logical mind warned him otherwise and he took his eyes away from her flowing ass in it's tight, black skirt.

He had taken his jacket off as well and thrown it across the back of the couch. It had been a cold February night in DC. He was glad snow had come late and been sporadic this winter. The delay had allowed him to take his '61 Chevy Corvette out a couple of times in November before he stored it for the winter. But now it was safely resting at Luttrells' car storage facility until the salt and winter road grime disappeared in spring. He thought idly that it was too bad the Vette wasn't a winter car. He would have liked Marita too have seen it.

"Walter, here's your drink," Marita was saying. She stood next to him by the couch.

"Oh, thanks," he replied breaking his reverie. He took the glass from her hand. Their fingers brushed as she passed him the glass. He felt a pleasant tingling sensation with her touch.

Marita had her own bourbon as well. She walked to the opposite end of the large sectional couch and sat down. She sat back against the arm and the cushions. She kicked her shoes off and drew her legs up under her.

Skinner couldn't help but notice the fact that her skirt slid up to show a nice amount of thigh. Yup, long legs for sure, he thought looking away. He'd caught a glimpse of stockings and black panties as well. Christ! He didn't know anyone wore garters and hose anymore. Marita quickly smoothed her skirt down to cover her legs.

He felt a second tingling. This time the sensation flooded his nether regions. He took a healthy swig of the bourbon to stamp it down.

Skinner looked at Marita. He didn't know what else to say. Well, that wasn't strictly true. He did want to ask her if she was part of the global conspiracy that was out to destroy Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, the X-Files and beyond that maybe the entire world. Barring that he wanted to ask her if she knew anything at all about the God damned amateur videotape. The tape that starred Walter Skinner and Dana Scully and which could sit on the shelf of any adult video store right between those fuck tape classics *Red Hot and Ready* and *Teenage Sluts from Sin City*. Christ on a crutch. And last but not least if he got negative answers to those two questions he half thought about asking to kiss her but as soon as that thought formed he pushed it away. No, no NO, Don't go there. Not ready, not ready buster. His little voice of no confidence reared it's shaking head.

But he didn't ask her any of those questions. Instead he asked her...

"Marita, have you ever seen a '61 Chevy Corvette convertible?"

"A Chevy Corvette? Like the car in Route 66, that classic TV show?

"Yes, a rag top Chevy. Have you ever seen one?"

"No, why do you ask?" she replied with real interest on her face.

"Because I own one. I restored it, and I just thought...I thought maybe you'd like to see it sometime."

"Walter, I'd love too, could we see it tomorrow? I don't have any plans. Seriously. If it would be convenient I'd love to see your car. And God - you're never going to believe this! My uncle used to restore old cars too. He'd been trying to find a '61 Chevy Corvette Convertible for years and finally gave up because he could never find the right one to restore. He settled for a Ford Mustang instead. He passed away last year. I'd love to see your car just so I can tell Uncle Roy I finally found his Corvette the next time I talk to him," she replied pinning his eyes and smiling gently.

"It's red," Skinner said softly. He was suddenly very touched and he didn't want to really think about why.

"Red? Well, my uncle wanted a white one but at this point I'm not going to quibble," she laughed. "He should have been less picky. I always thought he could have changed the paint job. But no, it had to be authentic - same color as the original etc. He was such a stickler for detail."

Skinner chuckled. He looked into her eyes. She'd looked damned lovely earlier he thought. She looked even better now when she was laughing.

"I'll be happy to show you the car tomorrow. Unfortunately, we can't take her out - she's in storage for the winter, but I can take the wraps off and you can look at her all you'd like," Skinner offered grinning just a bit.

"Great. I'd love to look under the hood too," she added. "My uncle let me help him with repairs all the time. I'd love to get a look at the engine."

"Fine with me," Skinner replied taking another sip from his glass.

"I've seen re-runs of that show, Route 66. I can see why my Uncle was entranced with that car. The mystique alone would have made him want to have one," she smiled to herself.

"Sorry he never got his Vette," Skinner nodded sympathetically.

"What?" Skinner asked raising an eyebrow in return.

"God, that Mustang," she replied cryptically taking a sip of her own bourbon.

"Mustangs are a classic car too, I knew this guy..."

"Oh this one was classic all right," she giggled further.

"OK, spill it, Marita...cough it up..." Skinner smiled even as he tried to fathom the joke. He took one more swig of his drink and set it down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Oh God, I shouldn't even be telling you this, Walter! But...oh what the hell...I lost my virginity in the back of that Ford Mustang...to...to Dan Webster...they used to call him Mr. Dictionary," she blurted out and then she started to shake with laughter.

Skinner's mouth dropped open and he stopped smiling. He turned beet red in fact, and started to choke on his bourbon.

"Oh no, see I knew I shouldn't have said anything. Are you all right?" Marita sat her own drink down and slipped over across the couch cushions. She began to pat Skinner on the back.

"No, I'm fine," he husked out and then his choking finally did subside. Marita rubbed his back in a slow circular motion. "God, that feels good," Skinner thought distantly.

"I'm so sorry, Walter - but you did insist I tell you." Marita was still chuckling.

"Yes, I did. Hoisted on my own petard I guess." Skinner shook his head in amusement. "Jesus, you'd think I'd be able to hold my liquor by now."

"Under normal circumstances, I'm sure you can," Marita said giggling a bit. She took her hand from his back, "but it was unfair of me to spring that little revelation on you. I'm surprised I'm not doing the Heimleich maneuver on you right now."

Skinner smiled, "Yeah, well I hope you don't think I shock that easily anyway, Marita."

"I wouldn't think that would be the case either," Marita replied as her giggling calmed. She shifted back slightly into the couch cushions. She didn't go back to the other end of the couch but instead pulled her legs up and sat close to Skinner. She seemed to be studying him as he rubbed one large hand over his mouth. He had caught his breath at last. Skinner looked up and pinned her eyes. She was still tickled and it made him chuckle some more as well.

Skinner shook his head in bemusement, "And this kid was really named Daniel Webster? God, what were his parent's thinking?"

"No kidding," Marita wiped her tears of laughter from her face with the back of one hand, "And Lord - he really hated that nickname too."

"I can imagine," Skinner replied arching an eyebrow.

"Oh, listen, I am really sorry, Walter. I shouldn't have made this like a scene from *Truth or Dare*, it was rude of me."

"*Truth or Dare*?" Skinner asked confused.

"Yes, the Madonna Documentary."

"Never saw it."

"Oh, well...Madonna plays this game during the movie in which she asks members of her dance company a question and they either have to tell the truth or agree to pay by doing whatever she dares them to do." Marita explained.

There was dead silence for a moment.

"On the beach in Maine," Skinner said.

"What?"

"Where I lost my virginity - On a beach in Maine," Skinner repeated quietly. Oh Crap. Why the hell did I tell her that little tidbit? Skinner lamented to himself. Wonderful Walter. But he had thought of it instantly when Marita had mentioned her revelation. He remembered a night by a fire on a beach in Maine and his first love Maggie Flynn that summer before he had left to go to war. He sighed wistfully at the beautiful memory and at the sadness of Maggie's death so many years later.

Marita must have noticed his wistful look because she reached over and touched his knee, "She must have been very special Walter."

"Yeah, she was...she was definitely special. I met her the summer before I left for Nam..." he whispered. His voice trailed off and he didn't say anything else. There was an awkward silence. Marita's hand began to gently stroke his knee and Skinner shifted around to look down at it. He looked back up into her eyes. He turned sideways and lifting his hand touched her cheek. He took her head into his hand. He bent forward and kissed her gently on the lips. Marita brought her hand up off his knee and placed it behind his neck. She pulled his head forward just a bit to deepen the kiss. She opened her mouth and accepted his questing tongue. Their mouths played over each other for a moment and then Skinner pulled away. Marita was breathing heavily and so was Walter Skinner. She removed her hand from his neck and placed it in her lap. He released her and looked into her face again.

"Marita, I...I'm sorry. I'm not sure that was the thing to do...I..."

She touched his knee again. "No, it's...that's all right," she smiled getting her breath under control. "I would have slapped you silly if I hadn't wanted that..." she whispered.

Skinner nodded and turned away from her slightly. He'd wanted to kiss her all evening and now that he'd done it he was almost too paralyzed to think. What had he been thinking about no involvement? Yeah right, you mammoth dickwad. Get real.

Marita must have once again noticed how uncomfortable her guest had become. She smiled her gentle smile and pulled back from him just a little.

"Would you like some coffee now instead of another bourbon? I think I could use some coffee," she said kindly.

Skinner turned and refocused on her face. He cleared his throat, "Sure, coffee sounds fine. And oh, Marita - could I use your facilities?"

"Oh, yes - just go down the hall, it's the first door on the right. The light switch is on the wall to the right as well.

Skinner had gone down to Marita's bathroom, turned on the lights and shut the door. He walked to the sink, ran some cold water and splashed it into his face. He took off his glasses and cleaned them on the hand towel hanging nearby.

He went over to the toilet, flipped up the lid and the seat and then unzipped. As he was holding his dick and pissing he looked into the mirror on the medicine cabinet that hung above the toilet.

"For God's sake get a grip, Walter. You just got done telling yourself you weren't ready to get involved with a woman and now you're contemplating what it must have been like when Marita lost her virginity. Telling her that brilliant bon mot regarding losing yours and then groping her on the sofa was really bright too. Get a life you loser.

Well hell, she'd brought up the damn subject. And she certainly didn't slap me after the kiss. But did I really need to tell her about when I got my cherry busted for God's sake? How subtle. Jesus H. Christ. Like she cared to know. Oh come on.

"I should leave," he told himself. It was late. I need to get some sleep and I don't need coffee to keep me awake. "So why the hell did I agree to have it? I agreed because I don't really want to leave. And why not? Oh shit I think you know why not." Skinner sighed. Ok, so you want her. Big surprise. But God damn it - you hardly know her and what you do know about her isn't very good and could prove to be down right dangerous. But Mulder trusts her. She can't be totally corrupt or dirty. Mulder is so paranoid he wouldn't touch her with in ten foot poll if he thought she was too dirty.

But I'm still not sure it's advisable to pursue any kind of relationship with her. Besides the possibility that she may be some kind of operative for the shadow government she's also at least 10 years younger than you and let's face it Walter you're balding, over forty and as blind as a bat without your glasses. What's wrong with that picture?

A tiny voice in the back of his mind piped up and said, "But that didn't stop you with Dana Scully." <Oh cut the shit,> he tried to silence the voice but didn't quite succeed.

Oh sure you're still in reasonable physical shape but what makes you think she'd even find you desirable much less interesting enough to have a relationship with? Well damnation - she was French kissing you and it's not like she didn't enjoy it. Oh Christ. I give up trying to figure this out. Maybe I am getting too old, fat and forty to step up to the plate again. It's taxing the few brain cells I have left after the bourbon has blasted the rest.

He got done taking his leak, shook off, readjusted himself, and zipped up. He washed his hands and just before leaving the can, Walter Skinner, gentleman, lowered the toilet seat into the down position.

Marita was in the kitchen. Walter could hear her bustling around in there making the coffee.

"Can I give you a hand?" he called towards the kitchen door.

"No, that's all right. You're my guest. Go sit back down. I'll be there in a minute this won't take long to brew. I'm going to go freshen up a little and I'll bring the coffee out when I get done."

Skinner went back into the living room and sat down on the couch. He began to practice some of those much vaunted relaxation exercises Karen Kosseff had given him. They really did help and in a few minutes he felt much more calm and in control. Marita returned to his side carrying a tray with two cups, a small coffee pot, cream and sugar, and spoons.

"Let me help you with that," Skinner said hastening to rise and take the tray.

"You waitressed in college?" he asked with a tone of amusement in his voice.

"Yes, why does that amuse you? A girl has to earn tuition. Scholarships and grants only stretch so far. I considered working in the college library but somehow the waitressing just seemed more fun. I liked meeting so many people and the tips were
great," she added.

"I can understand that. I got lucky that way. Being a vet took care of my tuition - when I finally got around to college," Skinner replied. "Yeah, after I spent three months in a VA hospital stateside recovering from my wounds and another three months getting over the worst of my nightmares," Skinner thought bitterly.

"I had a good scholarship but it just wasn't enough I guess," Marita said, "it just seemed like incidental costs went up every year. So I learned to balance a tray."

"I just didn't see you as a waitress I guess," Skinner answered. <Oh crap brilliant come back.> "But I don't see you as a librarian either." <Equally as sagacious.> "Oh put a cork in it Walter," he thought. <Your brains are running out your ears here.>

Skinner stared at her profile as she reached forward and began to pour coffee into the two cups.

"A mechanic," he smiled. After her enthusiasm over the car and mentioning wanting to get under the hood he could almost see her in coveralls running her own garage. Oh wouldn't that be interesting. Sort of an upscale *Tool Time* girl. "Slap me now, please I'm really overdo," he thought again. He mentally kicked himself for being such a shit.

Marita gave him a strange look. She finished filling the cups.

"I guess you could call me a mechanic," she replied cryptically. And then she sighed a bit. "But I don't really want to go there tonight. Can we just avoid this talk about jobs for now, Walter. I'm...I'm enjoying our evening too much to want to even stray near that topic."

Skinner glanced at her hands as they filled the cups. She had elegant hands. Long tapering fingers. They were muscular but delicate at the same time. Hands made for any number of things or jobs. Mechanic, surgeon, thief, trained killer...His mind stuttered slightly at that idea. But most of all he thought her hands looked like they'd feel really good if they...

"Cream or sugar, Walter," Marita broke into his train of thought.

"What?"

"Do you take cream or sugar with your coffee?"

"Oh. I take it black, thanks," he answered.

Marita handed him the cup of hot coffee. Skinner took it gladly and began to sip at it. The brew was very robust and smooth. An interesting flavor.

"What kind of coffee is this?" he asked, "It's very good, not acidic at all."

"Oh, that's a Sumatran blend. A friend of mine at the UN gave me some. I think it's very flavorful. And you're right about the acidity. It has a very low acid content."

Marita put a bit of cream in her cup and picking it up took a sip of the coffee as well. She stared up over the rim at Skinner as she drank the Sumatran blend. Skinner watched her lips on the cup and her larynx as she swallowed. God she has a graceful neck as well he thought. His hand holding his cup started to tremble slightly. He took the cup and sat it back down on the tray. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch. Great, just what I need a jolt from Mr. Johnson he thought with dismay.

"Marita, I...I should be getting home. It's late and if we're going to see the car tomorrow I should get some sleep so I can remember where the heck the garage is in the morning," he barked a short laugh to cover his discomfort.

The air in the room was dead silent again for a moment. Marita put her coffee cup down as well. She touched his arm.

"Walter, you...you don't have to go home tonight, not if you don't want to." Marita whispered.

"OHBLOODYHELL," Skinner cursed inwardly. "How the hell do I get myself into these situations? Crap! That's a monumentally stupid question. Try to stop thinking with Mr. Johnson for a second and maybe you'd know why." He knew his face was an open book at that moment - scared, flustered and probably starting to blush, and aroused as well on top of it all. He started in on the relaxation breathing again to cover his emotions as quickly as possible. Apparently it wasn't quickly enough.

"Walter, I'm sorry, maybe...maybe I misinterpreted that kiss earlier. Maybe it was a little more casual then...." she removed her hand from where it had been stroking his bicep.

"Marita, look, it's me that should be sorry - I shouldn't have done that earlier, I..oh hell. I wanted to kiss you - of course I did. You're a beautiful, brilliant woman. I've enjoyed being with you a lot over the last month or so. It's just that...I'm coming off a bad relationship right now and I...I'm just not sure I need to - I don't think it would be fair to you under the circumstances," he sighed as he rushed through his hastily thought out speech. What he was really thinking was "Let's dispense with the excuses and get to the fuckin'," but the crudeness of that thought almost made him ill and he squashed it into a small corner of his mind as he studied Marita's face for her reaction.

"I thought that might be the case. I've thought that since the night I ran into you in that bar, Walter," Marita nodded in sympathy, "There are only a few reasons why someone drinks themselves into a stupor. I just took a lucky guess," she added.

"Marita...no offense, but have you looked over here closely. I mean, I'm..."

"Fine," Skinner rumbled in his chest. He was annoyed at her suddenly and at himself as well. He wanted her now and his need was starting to grow between his legs. Damn it from here to eternity - why the hell can't I just...LEAVE! But he knew he didn't want to go now. And he knew he was going to sleep with her as well whether it was ill advised or not. He sighed as she continued to explain.

"But I'm not proposing a heavy relationship, nothing long term. I find that hard myself most of the time - especially in this business. I was just proposing...well I was just proposing a little fun diversion that's all. A little...mutual pleasure. For tonight only if that's what you'd be more comfortable with, Walter. Or we can see where the night takes us. But I really would like to see your car tomorrow. I meant that. And if you stay here tonight we can get an earlier start in the morning."

"Nothing like a little practicality with your passion, right?" Skinner answered a touch of annoyance in his voice. Oh shit that isn't fair at all he thought, "Hey, I'm sorry, that wasn't fair. I guess I'm just a little hesitant - you know - once bitten...but I'd still enjoy taking you to see the Corvette."

"I can understand that, Walter. If you'd rather go home I'd more than understand. No problem. You can just call me in the morning and let me know what time you'd like to go see the Vette."

"I'll stay," he replied in a low voice. Then he sighed. "Marita, look, I should be honest with you too. I can't lie and say I'm not attracted to you. I'd have to be blind and dead below the waist not to be. I...you're...Christ. Yeah, I'd like to stay."

"All right, good." Marita smiled. "Would you like some more coffee or maybe another bourbon?" she asked.

"Uh, no more bourbon. If your looking for a little entertainment here more booze is going to pull my act right off the stage I'm afraid." Skinner ran his hand over his mouth. He could feel himself tensing up again despite the fact that he was getting more aroused by the minute.

Marita felt his shoulder muscles, "God, Walter you are so tense."

"Me, tense? No, really?" he allowed himself to grin slightly as she massaged his arm.

"Tight as a drum, Walter. Let me give you a back massage. The least I can do for you is work the knots out," she said.

Skinner raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, you know what I mean," Marita laughed.

"Sure, I'd appreciate the massage," he grinned a bit more widely. "It has been a rough week," he added moving his head back and forth. He snapped it quickly and his neck cracked loudly.

"Ouch! See, you need it. Why don't you...strip from the waist up and then sit down in front of me on the floor. I can start with your neck and shoulders that way."

"Fine." Skinner replied. He loosened and unknotted his tie He pulled it off and placed it over the arm of the couch.

His shirt and t-shirt followed the tie. He rose up slightly and then scooted down to sit on the floor.

Marita shifted over and pushed on his shoulder signaling that she wanted him to move forward a bit so she could position herself behind him. She stopped a moment and reached over his head. She began to lift off his glasses.

"Let's just take these off. They'll only get in the way. I'll put them on the coffee table."

"OK, but I'm warning you - I'm as blind as a bat without them."

"Oh. Well, don't worry. I'll give them back to you if it's important for you to see what you're doing. Just sit back and relax. She pulled back on his shoulders to let him know he should shift towards her. Skinner moved back and felt her spread her knees.

He felt rather then saw her skirt move up almost to her waist as she straddled his back. Her legs were on either side of his biceps. Jesus, he thought. He swallowed hard. He could feel the heat of her crotch against his back. She wasn't wearing her panties any longer. "Freshen up my ass," Skinner thought. Right. This was going to be one hell of a massage he thought as Marita began to knead his neck muscles. Skinner had been right about her hands though - elegant, but she had a fucking grip of steel.

"You clench your jaw muscles a lot, don't you Walter?" she said as she worked her hands over the sides of his face and back down onto his neck.

"Famous for it. Terrifies my agents. When they see my jaw twitch they run for the fucking hi...OUCH!"

"Oh sorry, is that spot on the back of your neck tender?"

"Yeah, it shouldn't be though. It's been months since I injured that area."

Skinner closed his eyes. He could feel her moving her sex over his back and it was sending him into orbit. Christ she...she's using me to...God damn, he almost groaned. He was becoming rock hard as Marita used her body leverage to really work his shoulder muscles. She continued to massage herself as well and Skinner could feel every fold and wet centimeter of her cunt as it slid against him.

She bent forward and ran her hands down either side of his spine. With each push and rub of her hands all his muscles seemed to relax. All except one and it was getting more tense by the second.

Marita bent over and her blonde hair fell forward next to Skinner's cheek. She placed her mouth close to his ear. Her breath came in short gasps. "Would you like to help me with this, Mr. Skinner?" she asked seductively, "Do you think it's important to have your glasses back, Walter?"

Skinner's head was bent slightly forward as well and his breathing was ragged as he answered her, "Not unless you're afraid for me to find out you're not a natural blonde," he replied huskily.

Marita lapped at his ear like a cat and then she said, "You can get as close as you need to in order to find out."

Skinner groaned low in his throat and turned in her legs. He pulled her hips forward and she fell back onto the cushions. He pushed Marita's skirt all the rest of the way up around her waist and then he found out she was a natural blonde after all.

"Oh, that's good...yes, right there, ohGod," she moaned as he found her folds and then her clit with his lips and tongue. He went to work on her in earnest and soon she was bucking and writhing under his ministrations. He barely got two fingers into her before she was clenching around them in a powerful orgasm. She had been close evidently during her version of the massage. Skinner brought her off harder and she rolled through a smaller second climax groaning and grabbing at his hand to urge him on.

He withdrew from her and rising sat down next to her on the couch. She was lying back against the cushions. Her eyes were closed, and her head was thrown back. Her mouth was open. Skinner bent forward and captured her mouth. She grabbed his head and drew him down sharply so that his mouth was crushed against hers. She sent her tongue rocketing between his teeth and it danced with his as she moaned.

They broke apart, breathing heavily.

"You certainly know how to give head, Walter. That was very well done," Marita purred stretching against him. Her nipples were erect and jutting up through her bra and blouse.

"Yeah well it helps when your partner is half way home doesn't it?" he rumbled under his breath.

"I heard that! Half way home is no where near all the way, Walter and it takes a special talent to get me there anyway," she replied with a knowing smile.

"God!" Skinner thought. This woman IS blunt. She's also as hot as hell. He was incredibly aroused now and his erection was really straining to get out. He reached down and stroked her between the legs again. His cock twitched. Oh yeah - that felt good he thought. But he needed to get loose now for sure. He glanced down and shifted a bit. Marita followed his eyes down.

"Uncomfortable are we?" she chuckled.

"Well, why don't we get more comfortable," she suggested. She shifted slightly and unbuttoned her skirt. Wiggling down she got it off and kicked it onto the floor. The garters and stockings went next.

Skinner watched her for a moment and then he stood up and took a step back.

"Oh, yes, that would be nice, Walter. Just step back a little more so I can have a really nice show."

"Yeah you'll get a show all right," he thought. Most of the time he forgot about his scar. The scar from the Vietnam war wound. It was only at times like these that he remembered it with crystal clarity and it pissed the hell out of him when he did.

But it couldn't be helped. She'd see it and if she didn't like it Walter Skinner was certain Marita Covarrubias wouldn't hesitate to tell him.

He pulled his shoes off one at a time, and then his socks, bending down to do so. He placed them aside under the coffee table, socks in the shoes so he could find them easily later. He stood back up and watched Marita's eyes as he unbuckled his belt. It seemed like she was staring at all of him at once as he lowered his pants. As he revealed his briefs, she licked her lips slightly and zeroed in on his crotch and his erection pressing against the fabric there. Skinner grasped the waist band of his briefs and pulled them down. He had to work a bit to get them past his swollen cock. He gritted his teeth with the sensation. He felt a hell of a lot better with Mr. Johnson catching the breeze. Oh yes.

Marita looked up into his face, "I'm glad I had an orchestra seat Walter, although I think I could have seen this show from the balcony."

Skinner felt his face reddening. Well at least she hadn't said a word about the scar he thought.

"So, are we going to do this here or would you prefer a private box at the show?" Skinner asked huskily.

"I think a private box might be nice. Let's go in the bedroom," Marita replied.

She stood up and took his hand. She lead him away from the couch and started to walk towards the hallway that lead to the back of the apartment. As she walked, she unbuttoned her blouse with the other hand. She did it slowly and erotically and Skinner felt his dick throb which each button she undid. She suddenly had all the buttons undone and she let go of his hand for a moment to take off one sleeve. She took his hand again as the other sleeve fell. She did it all with a fluid, graceful movement and her entire blouse fell onto the floor. She stepped over it and holding his hand continued down the hallway.

All she had left on was her bra and for some reason the sight of her scapula playing against it's straps almost made Skinner lose it right there in the hall way. She continued to walk, holding his hand. Finally she removed her bra just as she reached the bedroom door. She threw it to the floor. The door was open and she turned revealing her full breasts to Skinner. She picked up his other hand and led him into the room.

"Now see. I told you, you wouldn't need your glasses," she pulled him close.

"I don't need a seeing eye dog," Skinner growled as he pulled her into his arms and began to run his mouth down her neck.

"I'll be whatever you want me to be tonight, Walter, anything you want, lover," Marita purred seductively as Skinner's mouth reached her tits and went to work over them both.

She began to stroke his head with her hands as he laved both her nipples in turn. He hefted her right breast into one large hand and took even more of it into his mouth. His other hand trailed down between her legs and began to stroke her folds again.

"Hmmm, that's gggood," she stuttered slightly as he left that breast and gave the other one the same treatment. He rose back up and wrapped one strong arm around her waist. His other hand never left it's position between her legs. Marita arched her head back and shut her eyes savoring the sensations.

"Marita, this is a duet here," Skinner whispered into her ear, "I want you to tell me everything YOU want. Let me give you what you need," he added pushing two fingers into her body.

"Oh I will, Walter, don't worry," she smiled, "ohoh...that's it..."

He began to pump his fingers in and out slowly and seductively. He moved his other hand from her waist to her ass. He stroked and kneaded her ass in time with his pumping fingers.

"Is this good?" he asked.

"Oh yes. You have very educated hands, Walter. Very...strong. Uhhhhh," she groaned. Skinner felt her tense around his fingers. He sank to his knees before her and went down on her with his mouth again until she bucked into him and then crashed through another hard orgasm.

"God! Walter, if you're this good with your mouth and hands I can hardly wait to feel that weapon between your legs," she breathed out raggedly, shuddering through the last trembling waves of her climax.

Skinner stood back up and pinned her eyes, "Baby, a good Marine never takes his weapon under fire without his helmet on. I didn't bring mine. So, unless you have one, my gun and I are taking this show on the road."

"Night stand drawer," Marita said gesturing with her head towards the night stand to the right.

Skinner sauntered over and opened the drawer. He took out the box of condoms and opened it. "O-K," he thought. So I'm probably not the first guy that's been in here. So what. But under those circumstances I'm glad she's got the rubbers here, he thought. He pulled out one of the foil packets and started to tear it open. As he did so he felt Marita's hands on his shoulders.

He allowed her to turn him around. He was trying to rip the package as she lowered one hand to his cock. She began to stroke him slowly. Her nails scraped along his length. She swirled the drop of pre-ejaculate that appeared at the tip around the head of his penis. Skinner was really fumbling with the package.

"Lady, cease and desist - all right?" This damn rubber's going to be unnecessary in a minute," he hissed between clenched teeth.

"Here, let me help you *Mr. Blind as a Bat*," Marita answered with a brief laugh. She took the foil packet out of his hands.

"Hey, I can do this by touch alone."

"I imagine - it's a big enough target,"

"Yeah, well if you're going to take a shot at it just make sure you hit the fucking bullseye."

She pulled out the condom and helped him to roll it down his length.

"How's that, Mr. Assistant Director?"

"Satisfactory, Ms. Covarrubias. You'd qualify on any firing range."

Marita placed an arm over his shoulder, and her hand snaked around his neck. She kissed him lightly on the mouth and then trailed her lips over to his ear. She spoke into it.

"Walter, what happens in here stays here. No one will know. It's no one else's business but yours and mine. I want you now. I want to feel your huge, hard cock inside and I don't want you to hold back. Just fuck me. I like it rough. Don't worry about hurting me. I'm not fragile. I'll love it and I won't break."

Skinner's eyes narrowed as she nuzzled his ear and then ran her tongue around it. "Fuck this shit. I don't like this kind of thing," he thought with disgust. <God damn it! What the hell?>

"Hey, uh, that's really not my scene, Marita, I..." Skinner began.

Marita bit his ear. She bit it hard.

"You bitch!" Skinner hissed, "JesusHChrist, woman..."

"I said, fuck me hard you bastard. I meant it."

"I don't think..."

"That's right, don't think. Just feel. Do it. Do me now," she breathed into his ear.

Skinner still didn't respond. Marita pushed away from him and before he realized what was happening she had pulled her hand back and slapped him hard across the face.

His head snapped to the side. He brought it around very quickly, and as she raised her hand to deliver a second blow he caught it in a crushing grip.

"You cunt," he hissed angrily, "I should walk out of here right now."

Marita glanced at his hand where it was painfully squeezing hers, "But you won't," she hissed, "unless you're only half the man I think you are, Mr. Skinner."

"Half the man? I SHOULD show you just how much of a man I really am, Ms. Covarrubias."

"Then shut up and show me, Walter," she snapped.

"My pleasure, Marita," Skinner growled and then he reached forward with one powerful hand. He gripped the back of her neck and turned her around towards the bed. When he removed his hand he used it and his other hand to pick her up from the waist. He lifted her, throwing her up and over onto the bed. She landed on all fours. He was right behind her and grabbed her by the hips as she crawled away from him.

"I've found a little struggling feels really good, Walter. Do you want me to struggle? Maybe I should scream a little."

"Just shut the fuck up," he barked. He slapped her hard on the ass.

"OhGod! Yes, that's more like it," she moaned loudly.

Something in the back of Walter Skinner's mind told him this was way beyond what he had expected this evening and that was an understatement. This was way wrong. It was way beyond what he would ever want. Not what he desired at all. It was sick and he should be sickened by the experience.

But another part of his mind, a part he didn't even hear consciously was basking in the giving of pain mixed with pleasure. A part that to this day still remembered the feeling of sexual release when he shot his first VC soldier. In truth, that moment had been a mixture of guilt, fear and orgasmic rush that had given him nightmares for years. Still gave him nightmares today. It was a feeling he never thought he'd have again, didn't really want. But nonetheless it was lurking there in his subconscious mind. It was lurking and making the feeling of pleasure strong and undeniable. It translated the pleasure into his conscious mind as permission. He took it.

"Hold still, bitch," he grated. As Marita struggled against him he grabbed her tightly around the hips and pushed up close to her cunt. He took a deep breath and then he rammed his cock into her without any further warning.

"OHFUCK!" Marita shrieked.

"Yeah, fuck you!" Skinner yelled releasing his breath in a rush. He pulled back and thrust into her as hard as he could. Again and again and again. He was glad he had on the rubber he thought idly. It would make it really hard for him to come. He could fuck her until she bled if that's what Marita wanted from him. Yes sir. There was nothing gentle or subtle about his movements. It was just raw power, drive and hard pistoning of his hips. His balls were slapping up hard against her cunt with each pump and Marita started to gasp and moan.

"YessssfuckmeohGod, do it," she groaned.

Skinner was completely silent then except for his heavy rasping breath. He had begun to push Marita forward with the force of his body until she was against the brass headboard. She grasped the bars as he continued to pound into her. With each thrust her arms shook.

"Is this hard enough, baby?" he asked sarcastically. He gasped as he twisted and rammed into her again, hard.

Skinner reached up over her body with one strong arm and grasped the top of the brass head board railing for extra leverage. He picked up the speed and soon all that could be heard was the loud slapping of his thighs against her ass and the thudding of the headboard against the wall. "God damn," he thought, "I can't fuck her any harder. I'm going to dislocate my motherfucking hips and crack my spine."

Marita started to whine softly in her throat.

"Come on! Come for me, for God's sake," Skinner sobbed. He needed to come soon himself or he was going to die he thought. The latex was making it really difficult. What he'd thought earlier was an advantage was now rapidly becoming the worst disadvantage he could think of. A case of prophylactically painful blue balls. No fuck should be this difficult he thought. He was practically ramming into her up to her tonsils for crying out loud.

Marita started to laugh, "Why should I? This feels too good the longer it goes! It's too gggood, you bastard. Keep it up, keep...oh God, YESSSSS!"

"NO! Marita yelled, "I'll....just keep going," she moaned. Skinner grabbed the headboard again and Marita took her own hand off the brass rail and snaked it down between her legs.

"What will you give me if I bring myself off Walter?" she gasped.

"Just do it! Jesus, I can't come if you don't do it. I'm gonna die here," Skinner's voice shuddered out of his mouth. He was laughing slightly now though. It didn't make any sense. He was on sensory overload and the pain and pleasure were becoming too much.

"I know, life's a bitch isn't it?"

"You're the bitch, you slut," he panted as he continued to ram into her.

"I know that too. But I won't make you beg," she purred, "I respect you too much now to make you beg," she moaned, "you've been such a good boy so far." Marita reached back and squeezed his balls.

"OHCHRIST." Skinner yelped. He could feel his body tensing then. He knew he was close. OHPLEASE his mind screamed. This was torture - but God, it was exquisite torture.

"Get ready," she said in a low voice.

Skinner felt the waves of Marita's orgasm start from somewhere deep inside her. Her entire body started to convulse. It was like an explosion ripping through her. Her inner muscles clamped down on his cock so tightly that Skinner had a momentary vision of castration. The vice grip on his dick was all it took at last to send him into orgasmic oblivion. Skinner threw his head back and opened his mouth in what was at first a silent scream. But as Marita's body milked him, and he threw himself against her for two final violent thrusts, the silence was broken by his animal howl of ecstasy.

Later as Skinner slept the sleep of the sexually satiated Marita Covarrubias lay beside him. He lay on his back, one arm outstretched. Marita had her head on that arm and his bicep. She admired his hard masculinity. He had held his hand lightly across her shoulder before falling asleep.

Walter Skinner really had been the best fuck she'd had in a long time she thought. A man between her legs instead of the boys she'd been balling recently she thought. Men her own age that just didn't have the experience, proclivities, talent or guts to give Marita what she wanted in bed.

She had known Skinner would be good. She'd suspected it for some time. She began to stroke her clit as she replayed the violence of their sex act. She pleasured herself again, biting her lip to cut off her moan as she came. Finally after her spasms stopped she quietly extricated herself from Skinner's arm and left the bedroom. She walked naked through the door, retrieving her bra. She walked down the hall way, picking up her blouse on the way to the living room.

When she reached the end table near the couch she picked up the cordless phone, the kind that scanned through the channels so no one could trace your signal or scan your conversation. She walked around to the couch front and sat down on the cushions. She threw her bra and blouse on top of Skinner's tie and shirt on the couch arm.

She punched in the well remembered number on the cordless phone. A voice answered at the other end.

"It's me," she said. The voice bleated forth instantly, words coming in a rush of anger and excitement. Marita listened for a moment as the voice spoke rapidly with no hint of stopping it's tirade. It went on a second longer than she thought necessary and she rolled her eyes.

"Will you shut the fuck up and listen," she hissed into the receiver.

xXx

Walter Skinner was on his hands and knees in a huge Victorian style bed with a brass headboard. Somebody had one hand on his shoulder and their other hand around his cock and he was humping it like hell, and Oh God, did it ever feel good.

"OH Gawd damn Waltuh. Oh SweetJesus! You're one tight-assed fuck. Oh Lord!" John *Cracker* Rand was groaning into his ear, as he rocked against him. It occurred to Skinner through his mammoth pot buzz and alcoholic haze that Cracker had his cock up his ass and was thrusting as hard as hell, and even though he knew it should hurt it felt incredibly fantastic.

"JesusGod Cracker, ohfuck, that's...Oh man," he growled. Then all he could do was moan as John Rand thrust in harder slapping against him and moaning in perfect counterpoint.

Skinner began to rock his hips in time with Rand's thrusts and the other man increased his pumping of Skinner's cock.

"Sinnuh, is this good? Tell me buddy, come on...come for me Waltuh...I wanna feel you come for me."

"Yeah, just...ohfuck, please...harder. Yeah, ohGod..."

Skinner felt the combination of John's hand on his swollen flesh and the pistoning of his rock hard dick into him, and then he felt the most exquisite sensation he had ever experienced in his entire life. The word prostate barely made it into his conscious mind as he roared out his pleasure almost blacking out under the wonderful rush of feeling.

He ejaculated all over Rand's hand and the mattress beneath and then John was screaming his name and pumping violently twice more as his own orgasm exploded through his body.

"JESUS! JESUSGAWD Waltuh, that's it, that's it," he yelled. He rocked back on his knees and Skinner could just glance behind him to see Cracker's head flung back, his eyes shut and his arms thrown out to the side as he still threw his hips forward against his ass. Walter wasn't sure which he looked more like. Some dark surfer riding a mammoth climactic wave or Christ crucified. Either one was just fine with him, and Skinner collapsed sideways taking Rand along with him. They fell together in a tangle of arms and legs. Both of them were laughing and shaking and it was tremendously warm and sweet.

"Oh big dawg! Have mercy brother - that was good," Rand was cackling his crazy hillbilly laugh.

"Christ, Cracker where did you learn to ride like that buddy? God damn it," Skinner was breathless.

"I had me a big, old mule back home, boy. I learned to ride on that suckuh. But that ass was no where near as good a ride!" Cracker howled with laughter and then he reached forward and kissed Skinner on the neck.

"Hey, cut that shit out..." Skinner rumbled.

"Oh now, Waltuh! I've got my pecker up your ass and you're gonna complain about a little peck on the neck? Come on, Sinnuh - chill out." Cracker chuckled. His breathing was returning to normal. He reached down and grasping the condom on his cock pulled carefully out of Skinner and then rolled over into a sitting position. He peeled the condom off his dick, tied it off and dropped it over the side of the bed.

"Sinnuh, come here buddy," he whispered. Skinner sat up and scooted over towards Cracker. They were seated in the center of the bed now and Rand placed a gentle, elegant hand on Skinner's back. He began to rub it lazily in a circle. Skinner shut his eyes and savored the massaging motion.

"Sinnuh, I didn't mean anything by that kiss. I...it was just something...I thought...hey, nevuh mind," he said huskily.

"It's ok, John. I...I didn't mind. Not really." Skinner replied quietly.

"Waltuh, look at me," John Rand said, his voice suddenly very serious.

Skinner opened his eyes and turning, stared into his friend's face. Rand's hazel eyes were sad and he was biting his lower lip suddenly. The soft sensuous lower lip that had kissed him a moment ago. Skinner reached over and ran his hand down Cracker's face. He rested it against his cheek and the side of his neck to comfort him. Rand trembled slightly under his touch.

"Waltuh, I want to warn you, buddy. I got a bad feeling about this one."

"About going back on patrol tomorrow? Why?"

"Not patrol, Sinnuh. I got a bad feeling about her."

"Who?"

"That blonde bitch, Waltuh. The one you were fucking doggie style. She's trouble, my man. Mark my words. There's a bad moon on the rise. Bad times comin'. Are you listening Waltuh? Do you get my drift?"

Skinner had absolutely no idea what Cracker was talking about. He had never been with a blonde woman and the only one he had ever fucked doggie style had been John Rand and he'd been on the receiving end anyway.

"Sure, John I get your meaning. I'll watch my step." he lied.

Skinner lay down on his back and Cracker Rand moved over close to him. He placed his head down on Skinner's chest and Skinner wrapped an arm protectively around his shoulder. Rand seemed so fragile suddenly, despite his athletic body. His skinhead Marine haircut made him look younger than his 19 years. Skinner knew that if he had a full head of hair it would be brown and tousled. He'd seen photos back in the barracks of Cracker and the rest of his family standing in front of their house in Georgia. John, his Mother, Father and sister Samantha. They all looked like peas in a pod.

"John, you ok?" Skinner asked as he gently rubbed his best friend's arm.

"Ah am now, Waltuh, Ah am now."

xXx

Fox Mulder was late. He'd left Scully's apartment early Monday morning to go home for a fresh suit, a shower and shave and some case files he'd left there. But it HAD finally snowed with a vengeance and the combined shock of DCs residents at driving in their first significant snowfall combined with Mulder's cold car engine were going to make him get into the office much later then usual.

He was pissed that he was going to be late. He and Scully had a lot to do this morning. Lots of paperwork. Boring but necessary and the sooner started the sooner it would be done. Also he had finally decided to try to get Skinner alone somehow so that they could talk. He had a lot to say to him starting with an apology. He was hoping to meet with him somewhere pleasant and quiet but as a last resort he'd make an appointment to see him in his office. Whatever and wherever. He just wanted to get it over with now.

He finally pulled into the garage and into his assigned spot. Throwing the car into park and cutting the ignition, he grabbed the files lying on the seat, and opening the car door barely remembered to lock it. He loped for the entrance that lead into the Hoover Building's lobby.

As he approached the entrance he glanced over to his left and spotted Assistant Director Walter Skinner standing between his bu-car and a white Ford Taurus. He wasn't alone. Mulder slowed his long easy strides for the metal garage door. He stepped more quietly but it wouldn't have made much difference. Skinner wasn't going to notice him. He was standing next to the Taurus with a statuesque blonde. Her back was to Mulder. One of Skinner's hands rested lightly on the blonde's hip. The other held her chin up and he was kissing her good-bye. Mulder's mouth dropped open slightly. Jesus.

The blonde pulled back and then reached over to adjust the A. D.'s tie. She patted his cheek and then turned to walk back around the car's trunk.

"Son of a bitch," Mulder exclaimed in a whisper. It was Marita Covarrubias. "O-K," Mulder thought, "he's late and I guess he has a good reason too," Mulder pondered. He smiled a bit when he thought of his reason for staying so late at Scully's apartment. Yeah, it had been one stellar weekend, hell yes. Must have been for Skinner as well. He wasn't sure that was good though. Despite the fact that Mulder felt a certain amount of happiness for the A.D. he was also worried. Marita was a cipher even to him. He had to trust her because she was a conduit for valuable information. She had never double crossed him as yet but he still wasn't sure about her allegiances. Marita was a mystery woman for sure and Mulder thought she just might be one more topic he needed to bring up with Skinner when he finally got to meet with him today.

Marita opened her car door and climbed in. Skinner stepped back and walked away from the Taurus and his bu-car as Marita started her car, pulled out of the parking space and drove away. Mulder hastened to turn around and continue walking towards the door leading into the lobby. As he did so he almost ran into Kimberly, the A.D.'s Executive Assistant coming from the opposite direction.

"Good morning, Kimberly," he said pulling the door quickly open for her.

"Agent Mulder," she replied her voice somewhat strained.

They were both through the door and well on their way to their respective offices before Walter Skinner could catch up with them.

xXx

"Oh yeah, right. Hey, he's not going to drill is he?" Mulder pulled a Mr. Yuck face.

"Good heavens I hope not, it's just a check-up. But, if he does please - no remarks about drooling when I get back," she quipped.

"Ok, Ok. I'll bring you back some take-out Chinese."

"Thanks, Scully," Mulder smiled at her, "watch your step, it's a jungle out there."

"Will do. I'll see you around 1:30 or so."

Scully left the basement and headed for the elevator to the lobby. She smiled to herself. She and Mulder had developed one new rule for the office. No relationship allowed. They had decided to attempt to divorce what they did at home from the job as much as possible. That included no overt displays of affection in the office or in public. Both of them had been so good in denying their feelings up till now that this was actually more easy to do then they thought it would be. They did keep up their teasing and jokes however because to not do so would have also looked strange and drawn suspicion. They were hoping by taking these precautions they would avoid trouble over the issue of fraternization. It would also keep their minds off each other's bodies and on the X-Files which was paramount.

Scully walked through the hallway upstairs on her way to the lobby. She decided to stop by the ladies room before she went into the parking garage. There was a small lounge just inside the bathroom. Scully noticed Kimberly Cook, Walter Skinner's Executive Assistant sitting in the lounge as she came in. "That's odd," she thought. "Why isn't she up on her own floor?" Then she noticed Kimberly's red eyes and thought, "Oh no, she's crying."

"Kimberly, what's wrong?" Scully said walking over to face the blonde woman.

"Agent Scully. Oh, nothing really, I'm...nothing. I should go back to my desk."

"Well, if there's something wrong maybe I can help," Scully replied sympathetically taking a seat on the chair next to the distraught woman.

"Oh, I don't think you can help with this situation, Agent Scully. Really I don't."

"Look, Kimberly, if this is about the A. D., if he's been difficult this morning just stand up to him. He shouldn't be doing this to..."

"Oh, it's about Assistant Director Skinner all right, just not the way you think," Kimberly whispered. She took the Kleenex she had been twisting in her hands and wiped at her nose.

Alarm bells went off in Scully's head, "Oh oh," she thought. She recalled a previous conversation under a tree in September. A discussion with Walter Skinner in which she had advised him that his Executive Assistant was attracted to him. Might care about him just a little bit. "Little bit my ass," Scully thought suddenly. This woman is in love with him and now something is really horribly wrong. It's all over her face. Oh Lord.

"Kimberly, are you on your lunch hour?"

"Well, come on I'll buy you lunch. I think we need to talk." "I'll call the damn dentist on the cell and cancel," Scully thought. This woman needs another woman to talk to right now. That's more important.

Kimberly looked up into Scully's eyes and smiled tentatively, "All right, I'd like that, Dana."

xXx

"You mean you've worked for him for almost 5 years and not said a thing about this to anyone?" Scully said from across the table at the little deli down the street from the Hoover Building.

"That's right. I couldn't tell anyone. I certainly couldn't tell HIM for God's sake. He's my boss. And he WAS married don't forget. But even after his divorce...I mean the rules on fraternization are pretty clear."

"Lord, no kidding." Scully sighed inwardly. Walter Skinner was THE BOSS for sure. He could be the boss from hell too and as scary as every inhabitant of the underworld when he was really on an anger bender. But Scully had seen Kimberly handle him easily even when he was at his worst. In hindsight it was obvious why. She'd spent a lot of time studying him and catering to his moods and whims because she was in love with him. It was the only way she could be close to him. God what an awful situation.

The fraternization part was a very ambiguous point as far as Scully was concerned now. That issue had taken on a different dimension for her. "And Good grief - I certainly am glad Kimberly doesn't suspect what went on between Walter and me," she thought. Kim would probably be throwing that coffee in my face right now instead of drowning her sorrows in the caffeine.

"Have you considered talking to Karen Kosseff about this?"

"I did once but I hesitated to do it because she's Bureau. I was paranoid it would get back to Mr. Skinner. I'd die if that happened. No, I did see a private psychologist for a time but I stopped seeing him since I went back to school. No time.

"Oh, I didn't know you'd gone back to school."

"Yes, I'm studying law, Dana. I want to become a lawyer. My grandfather was a lawyer - a public defender God bless him. He did that for his entire life too. That appeals to me, Dana - defending the less fortunate. I'd like to do that someday. But God, it's hard. I'm going to have to decide soon whether I should leave the Bureau and go back to school full time. Maybe that would be for the best now."

"For the best now?"

"Well, I know this is totally pointless and unrealistic. I mean Mr. Skinner has no clue how I feel about him. He...he barely notices I'm a woman. Oh, I know he appreciates my work. My reviews have been excellent. But, it's just...oh damn. The reason I was in the ladies room blubbering like and idiot was because I saw him with someone in the parking garage this morning."

"Someone?"

"Yes, he's seeing someone, Dana. He was kissing her."

"Yes, it was that UN representative, Marita Covarrubias."

"Marita Covarrubias?" Scully asked in amazement. "Oh hell," she thought, "that's not good. Good Lord, I have to talk to Mulder."

"Yes, is anything wrong?" Kimberly asked with worry on her face.

"Wrong? Oh, no, I was just surprised to hear he was seeing ANYONE that's all. And Marita is based in New York."

"Yes, I know that. But she's been in town a lot lately. I suspected he might have been taking her out because she called for him a couple of times. I...I guess he's doing more then just taking her out. He was late getting in this morning. I guess it wasn't the storm either," Kimberly replied in a very quiet voice.

Scully stretched her hand across the table and touched Kimberly's hand.

"Kim, I know this is difficult for you. Maybe you should consider seeing your counselor again. Talking to someone else about your feelings can only help you to heal. And maybe it is time for you to move on and make a change. I don't want to influence your decision in that area but maybe it is a good idea to resign. If it's economically feasible maybe you can go back to school full time and get that law degree. It would be a hell of a lot more fulfilling than sitting at that desk outside Skinner's office and suffering, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Kimberly answered quietly. I should call the counselor. I'll try to do it soon."

"I think that's a good idea, Kim."

"God, I made such a fool of myself this afternoon in the ladies lounge. Boy, that's two strikes today, I'm really batting a 1000, as my Ex-boyfriend used to say."

"Two strikes?"

"Yes, I bumped into Agent Mulder in the parking garage after I saw Mr. Skinner with Ms. Covarrubias. I was just such a space cadet when he said good morning I hardly reacted at all. It was rude. I'm sure he thought I was a total airhead. Tell him I'm sorry I was so out of it."

"Mulder was in the parking garage too?"

"Yes, he was just coming in, I guess he was running late. I was - that storm just made the roads really terrible."

"Did Mulder see Skinner with Marita?"

"Oh. Well, he must have, Dana. He was standing right there by the door. They were standing next to the A.D.'s car in plain site. I hadn't thought of that but I guess he must have seen them."

xXx

"I'm breaking THE rule, Mulder," Scully said shutting the door to the office and walking over to Mulder's desk.

Mulder looked up over his glasses and smiled as she placed the bag of Chinese take-out in the middle of his desk.

"THE rule? Oh, the RULE. Hey, great!" he replied mischievously as he loosened his tie. Just lock the door and I'll get rid of this bag and the paperwork. Or would you prefer your place rather than mine?" he grinned gesturing towards her desk across the room.

"Mulder!"

He took a look at the frown line between her eyes and his grin faded, "OK, not THAT part of the rule. What's up?"

"Did you see Skinner and Marita Covarrubias in the parking garage this morning?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Scully, I..."

"I would have thought you'd have enough confidence now to..."

"Dana, hang on, all right. Listen."

Scully stopped at the use of her first name and stared at Mulder.

Scully's face softened and she walked around Mulder's desk. He pulled his legs out from under it and rolled his chair over to meet her.

"Rules were meant to be broken, Scully," he whispered. She stepped close and he hugged her to him, placing his head on her stomach. They stayed like that for a moment. Scully stroked his hair.

"Mulder I hope you realize that I'm not interested in Walter Skinner any longer. That's old news now. I don't want you to worry about it anymore."

"Logically, I know that Scully - but emotionally..."

"Well, if you're having trouble with it we can talk some more tonight. Or maybe you should see someone...I can go with you if you'd like..."

"I'll consider it. But not right now, OK. I'd rather talk to you about it anyway."

Scully sighed slightly. Well at least he'd consider it. That was more than he'd said before now.

"Mulder, I know it really isn't our business either but Marita? I mean isn't that just a tad dangerous?"

Mulder released Scully's waist and she moved back and sat on the edge of his desk. Mulder looked up at her and then he removed his glasses and put them down on his desk. He rubbed between his eyes.

"Yeah, I don't like the idea either. But, Skinner's a big boy. He can handle himself. Ha! Boy can he ever. I have firsthand experience on just how well."

"Well, I suppose you're right, but..."

"Yeah, I know. Look, I want to get together with him today anyway. I...I've decided I can talk to him now about what happened in the alley and with you..."

"Oh, Mulder..."

"Hell if nothing else I really need to apologize to him for what happened in that bar. Christ I was such a sack of shit that night. I'm surprised he didn't beat the crap OUT of me."

"I'm glad you want to talk to him, Mulder. Are you going to make an appointment to see him in his office?"

"I would have liked to do that but Kimberly says he doesn't have a spare moment today. So, I'm going to try to catch him later. She said he works out in the gym Mondays after work so maybe I can catch him there."

"Oh my God."

"What?"

"Do I have something to tell you about Kimberly Cook."

xXx

He counted off the reps in his head.

Lift the curl bar, slowly, slowly, tilt it back towards his chest...

1

Extend the bar out slowly...slowly...to full forearm extension.

Lift the curl bar, slowly, slowly, tilt it back towards his chest...

2

Extend the bar - and on through ten reps. It was rep number nine and Walter Skinner stood in the weight room, breathing hard. He'd added weight to the bar this week. Now he was going for the burn. Rep number 10 was going to be the ass breaker. He prepared himself mentally for the strain. No pain no gain he told himself.

Slow... "UhhhhhhhGod!" he groaned with the effort. Tilt it back towards his chest

10

Extend it down. He dropped the bar onto the mat with a noisy clank. Skinner stood still for a moment. His breath came in gasps but then began to return to normal almost at once. He shook his arms slightly and then flexed one bicep and then the other.

"Oh yeah, that's good," he thought. "More than good, it feels great."

Nothing like a good work-out to clear the mind and focus your thoughts. Just what he needed before he headed for home.

He enjoyed Monday nights the most out of all his work out nights. Monday was upper body. He just liked the feel of the weights in his hands and the swelling of his shoulders, biceps, lats, triceps - hell - all his muscles from the waist up as he pumped iron. It was a real endorphin rush.

He grabbed his towel from the bench nearby and wiped his naked upper body dry. He wiped the towel over his face and head. One advantage to having little hair was the fact that he didn't seem to sweat nearly as much as he used to with a full head of it. Also, he used a hell of a lot less shampoo in the shower he thought grinning in self-depreciation.

He wadded the towel up and tossed it towards the laundry cart that sat nearby. Perfect three pointer he thought as it fell over the side. He considered what to do next. The weight room was fairly empty now except for one guy still doing his Nautilus circuit. Agent Crocker. He had been considerate enough to act as a spotter earlier when Skinner had wanted to use the bench press. Maybe there was no one else around in the pool area as well. Skinner decided to sit in the whirlpool (ok the hot tub, Jacuzzi, whatever - tax payers would prefer therapeutic whirlpool but still cringe - thing), and give his muscles a chance not to be sore in two days.

It always seemed like they waited that long to pain him after he added weights. One of Mother Nature's little tricks to insure that you didn't get too cocky. Skinner took off his weight belt and walking back into the men's locker area went to his locker. He exchanged the belt for his black speedo bathing suit and prescription swimming goggles. He pulled off his sweats and hung them in the locker. He slipped on the suit and put the goggles around his neck. He grabbed a fresh towel on the way towards the locker room door. He had all ready considered jumping into the pool for a few laps after the soak. He was still considering it.

He left the locker room and headed for the pool. He pushed his way through the double doors that lead into the area. Skinner's nostrils were assaulted by the odor of chlorine. Christ they needed to clean the damn pool again he thought. He'd have to have a word with maintenance about it he thought as he walked towards the Jacuzzi. As his bare feet slapped noisily on the tiles he thought he heard another sound. He stopped walking so he could catch it. Oh, the faint slap of flesh on water. Someone in the pool. OK, so he wasn't going to be alone. Well, no big deal. No big deal as long as he didn't have to talk to them.

Skinner walked on past the pool. He glanced over and saw someone lifting themselves up onto the pool's edge and then out of the water. He stopped dead in his tracks. He swayed slightly in momentary disorientation at the sight of the man standing there. The swimmer's hair was plastered down tight to his skull and he swung his hands out to the side windmill fashion to flex them. Water was pouring off his body. Walter's focus narrowed and fixated on every water rivulet. "Jesus," Skinner thought, "who is that?"

Suddenly he felt the room spin. There was a...a...haze...a purple haze? What the hell? Hendrix? He thought he heard Jimi's voice and the howl of an electric guitar. He smelled the jungle and it was a rotten, fecund odor. He heard a man's cackling laughter, and it was sweet. He shook his head to dislodge the strange auditory, olfactory and visionary hallucinations running in back of his eyes. He swiped his hand up under his glasses for a second and pinched the bridge of his nose.

When Walter Skinner looked back towards the pool, he could see Agent Fox Mulder standing on the edge and preparing to walk towards the lower diving board. "Shit, that was too bizarre," Skinner mused nervously. <God, what the fuck?> "Maybe I shouldn't have added the extra weight. It robbed my brain of essential oxygen. Yeah, the work out had been just a bit too much, that was it," he rationalized, "that and the God damned chlorine floating around in here," he added grimly. He felt fine now, though. No problem. He made a mental note to ease back a bit on Wednesday and definitely talk to the head of building maintenance. "That guy's gonna hate my living guts," he smiled, tight lipped.

He turned his attention back to Mulder. He watched the younger man walk to the diving board. Mulder didn't walk so much as saunter or maybe lope a little at the end. His long, lean, and muscular runner's legs carrying him effortlessly to the board. Mulder climbed up onto it and went into a classic diving stance. He bounced up sending his athletic, muscular body into the air and then out and over the water. There was hardly a ripple as he hit the surface. He came back up a moment later and began to swim laps.

Skinner shook his head in bemusement. He had to admit Mulder looked pretty good. "What did you say, Walter?" a voice piped up in the back of his mind. "I said Mulder's *dive* looked pretty good," he amended instantly. "Dive? Oh Yeah, Right," the voice teased knowingly. "I said DIVE, asshole." Skinner mentally shouted at it. "If this was the Olympics even the East German judge would have given him a perfect 10," he mumbled to himself. The voice gave him a mental shrug and shut up at that point. Skinner shoved it and it's accusation away quickly into his mind's file that said *Hot Night in a Saigon Hotel*. He ceased to think about the implications of the accusation or the file. Skinner left Fox Mulder to swim his laps, and strode over to the Jacuzzi for his soak.

He had his eyes closed and his head tilted back. He was picturing a cool stream in the Colorado Rockies. The refreshing water running over his body. Skinner thought of a calm meadow and the stream and then he began the relaxation breathing exercises a la Karen Kosseff as he sat in the Jacuzzi. He was up to his neck in hot bubbling water but his head was in Colorado and it felt really peaceful. His entire body was beginning to relax and his mind was floating...floating...floating....

"Mind if I join you, sir?"

<OH HELL!> "What?" Skinner asked opening his eyes.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" Mulder asked indicating the Jacuzzi with a wave of his hand.

"It's a free country..." Skinner replied indicating the seat across from him. He made his face as impassive as he could. He was just a little annoyed at the intrusion. "A little?" he thought. "Christ on a crutch!"

"So they tell us," Mulder retorted.

The agent walked down the steps but instead of taking the seat Skinner had indicated he moved over and sat directly next to him. Mulder lowered himself down up to his neck and settled into one of the bubbling jets. He tilted his head back and shut his eyes.

"Wonderful," Skinner thought. "I can't get a moments peace can I?" Skinner watched Mulder as he sat down. When the agent looked as though he wasn't going to say anything and just be content to soak, Skinner thought, "Thank you, Lord!" and sighed with relief. He tilted his head back up against the side of the Jacuzzi and closed his eyes.

"So, do you come here often?" Mulder asked with a grin in his voice.

"Spoke too soon," Skinner winced inwardly. He lifted his head up and glanced at Mulder with a highly arched eyebrow.

"OK, sorry, wrong phrasing," Mulder grinned slightly. "Do you work out most Mondays?"

"Monday, Wednesdays and Fridays."

"Just the weights or an aerobic work-out as well?"

"I try to swim some laps."

"Oh, well, that's good because weights really aren't the best for you aerobically."

"Thank you, Dr. Art Uhlein. I'll try to remember that," Skinner grumbled.

Mulder was silent for a moment. Then he sighed deeply.

"Look, Mulder, is there something you want to talk to me about here? I'm no good at small talk and apparently you aren't either. So can we cut to the chase?" Skinner queried, annoyance creeping into his voice. He sat up in the Jacuzzi and leaned his back against the side. He turned and looked Mulder in the eyes.

Mulder shifted and sat up as well. He stared into Skinner's fogged lenses, "Well, if this isn't a good time..." Mulder began.

"When is it ever?" he thought. "Oh crap, that's not really fair. Piss on it..." Skinner let his breath out gently. He ran a hand over his mouth, "Listen - I'm sorry Mulder. I didn't mean to put you off if that's the impression you got. It's just that...oh shit - never mind. Don't worry about it. What can I do for you?"

"I'm the one that should apologize." Mulder replied quietly.

"Apologize? For what, hogging the fucking Jacuzzi jet?"

"No..."

"Then for what?"

"For acting like a total moron in that bar and in the alley. I really want to say I'm sorry for my actions, sir. Damn it I still can't believe I...damn it to hell..." Mulder let his voice trail off and he shook his head in bitter self-recrimination.

"Yeah, well it wasn't exactly the most intelligent thing I've ever seen you do, Mulder. But what the hell - you were drunk as a skunk. I took that into account. And besides that you had more then enough reason given my actions earlier in the evening," Skinner replied looking away and down at his hands. He moved his hands under the water through the bubbling of the Jacuzzi jet.

"That shouldn't be an excuse," Mulder replied.

"No. But neither was my being pissed and half way wasted an excuse for hitting you either. Or an excuse for...grabbing your fucking piece for God's sake. Talk about moronic..."

"I bet it did." Skinner replied looking up into Mulder's face again.

Skinner studied his sad hazel eyes. He knew Mulder probably knew a hell of a lot about physical and psychological pain when it came right down to it. A shitstorm full when all was said and done. He decided in that moment to be honest with this man. After all he did consider him an intelligent, talented agent. A hell of a professional and passionate individualist, and he hoped a friend. He owed him the respect of honest talk. He owed him a hell of a lot more.

"Mulder, it was pain that I brought on myself. I...I made a mistake. People make mistakes and as the saying goes they learn from them. God knows I've learned from this one. I shouldn't have done what I did with Dana Scully. It was wrong. I know that now. It was disrespectful to you both. I will be eternally glad that it didn't destroy what you two have together. I'm not sure what I would have done if it had destroyed it. But, as much as I appreciate your sympathy - you shouldn't feel sorry for me. We're all responsible for our actions. I've accepted the responsibility for mine. All I can ask of you is understanding and...if I'm damned lucky...forgiveness. And I'm the one who should apologize...Fox. Not you."

Mulder was silent for a moment and then he smiled slightly. He lifted his hand out of the water and extended it towards Walter Skinner. The invitation of the gesture was plain. Skinner lifted his hand up out of the froth and extended it. He grasped Mulder's long elegant hand and shook it. Mulder squeezed his hand firmly in return and shook it vigorously. He sported a much wider grin as he pumped Skinner's arm up and down.

"Thank you, Mulder," Skinner said in a low voice. He was very touched and somewhat overcome.

"Don't mention it. And hey, did anyone ever tell you - you have a mean backhand?"

"Yeah, Pete Sampras," Skinner retorted.

Mulder laughed and dropped his hand. He stopped laughing after a second or too and then replied, "Listen, I'm pruning up like crazy here."

"Now that you mention it..."

"I'd better get going. Say, would you like to shower and then go for some coffee? I'll spring for it," Mulder suggested.

Skinner looked into his face again. He could sense that Mulder had something else he wished to discuss and maybe the Bureau Jacuzzi wasn't the place to do it. "O-K," he thought. I'll bite.

"Uh, sure, that would be fine," Skinner answered with a nod of his head.

xXx

"Black," Skinner told the waitress.

"And you, sir?"

"Black for me as well. Thank you."

"Will that be all?"

Skinner glanced at the menu the waitress had given him.

"Could I have an order of the potato skins?"

Mulder smirked from the other side of the booth.

Skinner stared balefully at him, "I have to eat something after that work out. Give me a break."

Mulder extended his hands in a "What me worry?" gesture.

"Will that be all then?" the waitress asked with a smile.

"Yes, thank you," they replied in unison. The waitress left the table chuckling a bit.

"Sorry about that. I'm used to being with Scully I guess."

"Scully? Do you bug her about what she eats too?"

"Sometimes, depends on the situation," Mulder answered evasively.

Skinner watched as Mulder played with his spoon. Was this what he wanted to talk about..his relationship with Scully? Oh shit - he must be worried about rules and regs. And if that's so then the relationship must have progressed to... Well, all right.

So..."

"Mulder, if you're worrying that I'm going to say something negative about your *involvement* with Dana Scully you must think my head zips up the back," he let himself smile a bit.

"All right, I know. I'm the arbiter of rules and regulations. Mr. tight-assed, by the book, boss man Skinner, correct?"

"Uh, I wouldn't have put it exactly that way, sir."

"How would you have put it?"

"Well, I've always thought you were hard, but fair..."

"Mulder, cut the crap. You think I'm a stiff necked, narrow minded bastard a lot of the time. And you know what? You're right. I am. And I hate it too. Fuck it.

Mulder stared at him in silence, his face impassive so Skinner went on with his recitation. He pitched his voice low so as not be heard beyond their booth.

This job..." he looked down at the table and ran his finger on the surface in a circle. He looked back up at Mulder, "this job has a way of taking you and squeezing and squeezing until you're jammed into the little hole it wants you in. It squeezes you in whether it's a square hole and you're a round peg or...well, whatever. It sucks Mulder. Sometimes it gives a man very little choice on how to conduct himself. With either his enemies...or his friends."

"I think I know what you mean..." Mulder replied quietly.

Skinner looked at him closely. Mulder met his stare.

"Yeah, I guess you do," Skinner agreed.

"So, we're agreed you're a tight-assed bastard?" Mulder grinned a bit.

Skinner chuckled, "OK, fair enough." He composed himself then and turned serious, "But Mulder, I don't want you to think that I'm going to throw the fraternization regs up in your face. That would be just a bit hypocritical of me don't you think?"

Mulder nodded his head, "I understand and respect that sir."

"Who you're with or what you do in private for that matter, is none of my business. None of my business, that is, unless it interferes with your performance on the job. I've seen no evidence that your relationship with Dana Scully is affecting either one of you in the job performance area at all. In fact your close rates have been statistically higher over the last two months. So, I could care less. I mean it."

"Thank you sir."

"No problem."

The waitress brought their coffees and Skinner's potato skins. He started to cut up the skins and eat them like he was a starving man.

Mulder watched as he shoveled them in, a grin on his face.

Skinner stopped a moment and put his knife and fork down. He picked up the coffee and took a sip. He held the cup out and looked over at Mulder.

"You know, Mulder. I really am glad you and Scully are together. I...I wouldn't begrudge either one of you finding a little happiness. Christ in this business we should take it wherever we can find it."

"Does that include with Marita Covarrubias?" Mulder replied very softly.

"What?"

"I saw you with Marita Covarrubias in the parking garage this morning. I just wanted to say..."

Skinner put his cup down. It made a tiny click on the saucer.

"Yes, I saw the two of you together."

"So..."

"Do you think that's wise, sir?"

"Wise?"

"To be seeing her?"

"Why not? Is that a problem Agent Mulder?" Skinner replied tensely

"Maybe this isn't any of my business either sir," Mulder answered.

"You're right it isn't any of your business."

Mulder sighed, "I'm really not sure about that, sir."

"What do you mean by not sure?"

Skinner studied Mulder. Something was warring in his mind. Various emotions were playing across his face. Worry, suspicion, sympathy, a flash of anger. Mulder reigned them all in and his face settled into neutrality as he stared back at Skinner.

"You wanted to ask me about this all along didn't you?" Skinner replied in a voice he tried to keep the hurt from but didn't quite succeed in doing so, "the other business, that was all just an excuse, wasn't it?"

"No, sir, please don't think that. I meant what I said about all the rest. In fact I've been trying to get up the guts for weeks to talk to you and apologize. Scully has really been riding my ass..." he blurted out.

Skinner looked at him for a split second and then he burst out laughing. Mulder blinked and then the implications of that last sentence dawned on him and he laughed as well. Some of the tension went out of the air as Mulder picked up his coffee. He stilled his few remaining chuckles and took a sip from the cup.

"Now what about Marita?" Skinner prompted speaking in a near whisper, "And let's be blunt Mulder - if my balling her is going to bring the Consortium, or Cancer Man, or the fucking ghost of J. Edgar Hoover knocking on my office door let's get it out in the open. I don't need that shit. Do I make myself clear?"

"Well, I'm fairly certain about Hoover..." Mulder began.

"Fuck."

"Sir..."

"Christ, Mulder. I wouldn't have even asked her out if I hadn't thought you weren't at least half certain she was trustworthy."

"Let's put the emphasis on the *half* part of that sentence."

"Crap."

"Hang on, sir, I'm sorry. I'm not saying she's completely untrustworthy. I just don't trust her or anyone wholeheartedly. You must know that by now."

"Well, I hope to hell she isn't dirty Mulder," Skinner hissed, embarrassment dripping from every word. "She's... damn it...She's great company - very pleasant company. I like her a lot. And...Good God...a guy, a guy likes to get laid once in a while. You get tired of beating your own meat - you should know what I mean," he spoke before he thought better of it.

"Yeah, well I got THAT idea," Mulder replied shaking his head in bemused weariness.

"Damn!" Skinner cursed softly, "Mulder, Jesus - I AM sorry. That was...that was a really stupid remark."

Mulder sighed, "Hey look - you're talking to a pocket pool expert here, all right. At least a past master of jerking with Mr. Johnson - and besides - there's no hard feelings about Scully, sir. I mean that too."

Skinner looked down at the table. His face was scarlet. He really couldn't bring himself to look at Mulder.

"Look, Walter..."

That got Skinner's attention. His head came up instantly.

But he remained uncomplaining at the use of his first name. Mulder plunged on.

"All I'm trying to say is - watch your back. Don't take Marita's honesty or trustworthiness at face value. No matter how pleasant uh, no matter how much you like her. I don't trust her completely. I know you're savvy enough not to either. Do I make MYSELF clear?" he concluded smiling at the Assistant Director.

"As crystal, Agent Mulder. I'll watch my step," Skinner smiled tersely.

"Holy crow. I wonder what he would have said if I told him about Kimberly?" Mulder thought as he finished his coffee.