We were both still dazzled by the mysterious lights we had the good fortune to
see in Marfa. Mulder, thrilled by the sighting yet dismayed by his inability to
discover any explanation for it, was still in the thrall of the paranormal. I
only managed to drag him away from the small west Texas town by promising
compliance with any other scheme, supernatural or sexual, he might devise. I was
hoping for the former, anticipating the latter and subconsciously creating a
daydream that was a combination of the two.
He settled upon Dallas as our next destination. I feared my worst case scenario
was about to become reality and that we would spend days examining cow
exsanguinations under the north Texas sun; our only respite repeated visits to
Dealey Plaza and the Conspiracy Museum. Fortunately, Mulder seemed oblivious to
both cows and Kennedys. Instead we spent the day exploring the city and a quiet
evening talking over steak and mashed potatoes. After dinner, my partner
suggested another drive. I was tired of the car; however, I remembered the
promise that had delivered me from Marfa and agreed.
Now he was driving through a nice old neighborhood. There were more trees in
this part of town than we'd seen in all of Dallas so far. Mulder turn onto a
road that circled what could best be described as a very large pond. We made one
full circuit of that pond, which a roadside sign declared was "White Rock Lake."
Neither of us spoke, and the radio was off, too, so the car was engulfed in a
reflective silence. I feared Mulder was starting a second lap, but instead he
pulled off onto a side road that led to a rise overlooking the water. We
continued in silence for a few moments, gazing at the house lights reflected on
the black surface of the lake.
Finally, Mulder spoke. "She usually appears out of nowhere, standing by the side
of the road. Her dress is torn and dirty and she is soaking wet. The couple
always takes pity on her and offers her a ride home, which she gladly accepts.
She climbs into the back seat of their car and gives directions and an address.
Along the way, she tells them she and her boyfriend were on their way home from
a party and the boyfriend lost control of the car and ran it into the lake. She
is frightened and sad, so they hurry to get her home to her family and help.
When they arrive at the given address, there is no one in the back seat of the
car. Only a puddle remains to confirm that she was not a figment of their
imaginations. They approach the door, hoping for an explanation. The elderly
woman who answers the door listens patiently to their tale. It is not a shock to
the her, for this has happened many times before. She explains to the young
couple that they have been visited by the ghost of her daughter, who died in a
car crash at the lake, on this very night, many years ago.
"Here, the hitchhiker is called the Lady of White Rock Lake. In other cities and
towns, she is called other things, often just 'the lady of the lake.' Some see
this story as a cautionary tale, something the old folks told the kiddies to
encourage them to come home earlier. Of course, since we're looking for her, we
won't find her. This type of supernatural manifestation only appears to those
who don't expect it. Unless, of course, you are the lady of the lake. Are you
going to disappear on me, Alex?"
Still in a reverie from his calm telling of the tale, I had to gather my wits to
answer. His serious tone worried me enough that I knew I had better offer
reassurance. There were far too many disappearances in his life already and I
was determined not to be another. "Never, Mulder. I'm here for the long haul," I
said.
My offering seemed to be just what my partner needed. I could feel the tension
dissipate; see his muscles relax. Now I could lighten things up a bit. I smirked
and said, "Watching for this lady sure sounds like an excellent excuse to take
someone parking."
Mulder grinned back at me, a predatory glimmer flashing in his eyes. My body
responded eagerly to his look. He moved in for a searing kiss, stroked his
fingers along my thighs and after teasing me this way for what seemed an
eternity, he finally brushed those fingers across my crotch. Gloating, he said,
"Aha! You're not the lady of the lake, Alex. This manifestation was exactly what
I was expecting."
Lady of the Lake
by Mlle Elizabeth
