Alex merely plunked another chocolate into his face.
Adjusting my package, I spread my legs widely, letting the dames at
Samantha's Place see that it was all natural, all me. Let 'em look.
Twitching his cute little ass, Alex sashayed up to take the
spotlight. He was singing at Samantha's every day, waiting for his
lucky break. By the way the chubby dame with the chocolate cigar
clutched in her teeth was drooling over him that was coming soon. She
ran the biggest bimbo parade in Hollywood. Her studio churned out
sappy, romantic comedies and codpiece rippers by the score. It might
not be Vancouver, but Hollywood kept trying to equal the glitz and
glamour of the big time.
I scowled in her direction. I heard she liked the casting couch
concept a little too much. I'd like to believe that Alex would be
faithful to me, but with stardom waved in his face, Alex would fuck a
frog and tell it that it was a princess. He's a slut, but he's my
slut.
After Alex came back to my table, patting his chest dry with a lacy
handkerchief, I leaned over close and said, "We have a case, Alex.
Walter Skinner has disappeared."
"Really? Wow, I wondered why he wasn't coming around," Alex said. "I
thought I had lost my touch."
I said, "I'm more his type."
"Right, bitch," Alex said. He stretched his net stocking covered leg
up onto my lap and rubbed at a fraying piece of string.
I could see that the lady producer was about to slide out of her
seat. Reaching up, I tucked the tip of Alex's cock back into his
black satin panties.
"In any event, he turned in his badge and no one has seen him since,"
I explained.
"That's not like him," Alex said. "He wants to make captain, although
he won't in your mother's city."
I suppose I should mention that my mother had run for mayor and won
on a platform of protecting the delicate masculine nature. She still
hoped to marry me off to some high-powered businesswoman or
politician. She's fighting to repeal the equal rights amendment I had
managed to get passed last year. Dear old Mom is a major bitch.
The first thing Mom had done was to demote every male officer on the
force. She had them all transferred back to juvenile duty, decoy
duty, or back into those cute little uniforms to write parking
tickets.
I had to stop to envision Walter the last time I had seen him,
writing a ticket as he tried to tug his tight trousers away from
their snug fit around his straining groin. Damn, he'd looked good. No
wonder meter men were the subjects of so many porn flicks... Walter
could have parked in my space any time.
Plopping in my lap, Alex straddled me. It didn't turn that producer
off at all. She drooled all the more, one of those kinky ones, I
guess, lord love them.
A pink nipple was peeking from behind the abbreviated vest that Alex
wore. I lowered my mouth to suck it hard. Alex writhed in my lap.
Man, if he was a girl, I might have been shooting baby makers
straight through my pants. Course if he was a girl, I wouldn't have
been so horny.
"I think we should go into the backroom," Alex said.
Thinking of Sam's threat to give Mom my address if I ruined her cot
one more time, I said, "Oh, let's go someplace romantic."
So we went up to the top of the observatory with a blanket. After
all, I had promised he would see stars the next time I made love to
him.
Staring up at the night sky as we cuddled on my insecurity blanket,
Alex sighed. He said, "Tell me the truth, Mulder, do you think I'm
ever going to make it big?"
"Oh, baby, you make mine big all the time," I said.
That cute little frown inverted over his pretty green eyes. I think
it was my favorite feature other than those spectacular orbs...his
eyes I mean, although I like his round bottom and his balls were just
fine as well.
"You said you would make me a star," Alex whined.
"I did, baby," I said, handing him one I had made out of dear dead
Spender Sr.'s cigarette wrapper. I was still trying to figure out how
it could have drifted into my Mom's safe.
Of course, I couldn't ask Mom how it got there. My visit was not
exactly authorized. I had to borrow a few bucks to pay my share of
the office rent. She had managed to tie up her father's trust fund to
try to force me into marriage. Of course, she had been trying to talk
Scully into dumping Pendrell and making an honest man out of me. I
halfway suspected the stray shot that would have killed Pendy if it
were not for Alex's quick action was something dear ditzy Mom had
arranged. Fortunately, Alex managed to throw the gunman's aim off
with a shot glass fired out of the black lace garter he had been
wearing. Scully stopped bitching about him hanging around the office
after that.
In any event, Mom must be going through menopause. She was developing
a credible mean streak.
So I felt the unauthorized trip into the national bank of Mom was
fully justified. I asked Alex what his conscience told him about my
plan. He had listened for a moment and said, "My conscience doesn't
tell me anything."
You gotta love that in a guy.
Alex sighed and fondled the silver foil sadly. He said, "Well, since
people aren't beating down my door to offer me a speaking part, I
suppose I might as well help you solve this case. Of course, it can't
exactly be a case if we don't have a client."
"Ah, but we do," I proclaimed, "Skinner's ex-wife, Sharon, is still
fond of him. She paid me a sizable retainer to find him."
"Scully will appreciate that," Alex said.
"So, just in case Skinner disappeared of his own free will, what has
dear Walter told you about himself?" I asked.
You see, Alex is a damn fine listener. People open up to him. Of
course, he's likely to sell your story to True Romance if it's
interesting. A guy has to keep himself in pretty things after all.
"Well, he's not involved with anyone," Alex said. "After his marriage
to Sharon fell apart, he started to realize that he was into men. The
fact that she dumped him because she caught him plumbing the pool boy
might have been a pretty good clue."
"He enjoys boxing," Alex said.
"Boxing?" I asked. Hmm, well that could be interesting. Boxing was a
women's sport but there were a few gyms that catered to men willing
to risk their looks to compete in the few amateur events open to
males. My one fistfight had resulted in a tilt to my nose. I might
not use make up, but I wasn't liberated enough to risk having my
pretty face messed up. I guess Walter figured his plain John looks
couldn't be much worse anyway.
The idea of watching Walter box made my cock throb. Women said that
men shouldn't be allowed to participate in sports like boxing and
wrestling. They said that it resulted in excessive testosterone and
could cause prostate cancer. I like testosterone myself. I could
sniff it all day. Mmmm...
"So we check out all the establishments that cater to male boxers," I
said. "That should be a short list."
"Short as Spender's cock," Alex said.
I frowned, not liking to remember my lover in Spender's evil clutches.
"We better check in with Scully first, make sure that she found
Sharon Skinner's check," I said. Hmm, so that's where the name came
from. I wondered, as Walter had said he was Russian and Polish in
descent. I was surprised he kept his wife's name after the divorce.
It didn't seem like him.
When we arrived at the office Scully and I shared, it looked as if no
one was there, but I knew better. I yelled, "Honey, we're home."
Pendrell hid under the chair until he was absolutely sure who it was.
The couple of attempts on his life had made his already fair skin,
paler, and he had lost the baby fat that he had always been
complaining about. I guess he must have really loved Scully to put up
with the repeated attempts on his life. I hoped it wasn't really my
Mom to blame, but I suspected her.
Mom had suggested recently that if I wasn't interested in the good,
strong bread-winning women, to whom she kept introducing me, that
even Scully would be an acceptable marriage partner. I told her right
away that Scully had a fiance. Pendrell was better match for her by
far. He was independent enough to make Scully feel that she was a
liberal woman, but he knew how to dress and didn't mind her being on
top.
Mom didn't give up at that. She said something about making Scully
see me in a different way and that Pendrell needn't be a problem.
Right after that, the attacks on Pendy started. The near brush at
Sam's was the closest call. We were out celebrating Scully's birthday
when a masked intruder leaped into the doorway and took a shot at
Pendy. As I said, Alex's quick wits had saved the day.
Scully was out getting dinner, as poor Pendy was not willing to
venture out on the street. I showed him where the check was, wrote
Scully a brief note, and was ready to rock and roll.
I was surprised that Mom left Alex alone. Of course, I had promised
her that I would become an exotic dancer, shaking my ass at the most
prominent bottomless dancing club in town if she so much as messed up
my beloved's hair. Maybe she believed me.
Of course, I wasn't much of a dancer, but I bet little Foxy would
have made the rough women who populated the clubs forget all about my
lack of grace.
I walked into Alex's ass thinking about my threat to Mom. Hmm, that
was a pleasant experience...
"What's up, babe?" I said, talking around the toothpick I had taken
to chewing on to look tougher.
"We haven't searched Walter's apartment," Alex said. "For all we
know, he could be lying in there dead."
Alex's voice quavered so pitifully that I had to hug him and make a
start at kissing it better.
"To think of Walter lying dead some place and we never got him into
bed with us," Alex sniffled.
That was a reason to cry. It wasn't that our sex life lacked for
anything, but somehow Walter's sad brown eyes seemed to beg for a
little loving. I had a feeling that he had a cherry or two that
hadn't been popped and I was just the one who could do it...
Walter's landlord would not produce the key, but that was less of a
problem than it might have been. Alex and I had a way of getting into
locked places. It came in handy when I was a little short of my rent
money.
The room Walter rented was in a respectable boarding house on the
edge of one of the rougher areas of Seattle. His place was on the
fifth floor and the elevator never had worked the few times I had
visited our burly cop.
The room looked as it had before, well-organized, sparse in
decoration, but spotlessly clean. Alex and I were a great team. We
each took an area and searched for anything that could be a clue.
I found the fireproof box in which Walter kept his things. His letter
of resignation was on top, followed by a letter from a lawyer. The
lawyer said that Walter didn't have a chance at the sexual
discrimination suit and that he should ask for his job as a parking
meter attendant back.
The divorce decree was carefully folded in its envelope. What
surprised me was a stack of unopened alimony checks. There were
years' worth of them and out of all those checks only one recent one
had been cashed. I guess unemployment hit Walter hard and he had to
bend his stubborn pride to accept the help for once. I felt for him.
Of course, Walter wouldn't have approved of my creative solution to
the same dilemma, stealing my trust money back from Mom. That's why I
asked Alex who had morals as flexible as his limber body.
As I looked for a letter, or anything that could point to where
Walter might have gone, Alex finished searching the bathroom and came
out with a find. He dangled a large white bra from his hands.
"Looks like Walter had a careless guest," I said.
"It only smells like Walter," Alex remarked, taking a whiff with his
cute little ratty nose.
"Kinky," I said. I had heard of guys who wore female clothing. I just
didn't know Walter was one of them.
Apparently, Walter didn't know how to wash a bra. This item had its
metal clasps caught in a dryer. It was useless unless the hooks were
replaced. I knew that from arguments I overheard when Dad failed to
hand wash Mom's substantial bras. After he made a mistake like that,
poor Dad was often up until all hours, crying as he hand sewed one of
the emblems of my Mother's feminine regalia back together.
Alex pulled me into the bathroom and shoved a bottle in my
face. "Look at all the hair removal shit in here. I thought Walt
liked the natural look. I knew I saw chest hair one time when he had
his shirt unbuttoned."
"Yes, he's a bear," I said, poking through the empty
containers. "There's enough of this stuff for him to have shaved most
of his body."
"He must be looking for a job where they like guys to have that well
groomed look," I said.
"That I have naturally," Alex said, preening. It was true that his
body only had a dusting of hair. He sometimes shaved his legs when he
wore nylons with his hot pants, but his chest was almost innocent of
hair.
"Yeah, babe, but the bear look works for Walter," I said.
"I don't know why Walter and you fight so hard for equal rights. I
enjoy being a boy," Alex said, fluttering his million dollar lashes.
"And I love you being a boy," I said, with an affectionate pat on his
ass. My Alex was as adaptable as a universal wrench and a hundred
times more fun.
After we went through Walter's few possessions twice, we finally
decided that we weren't going to find any more clues. I didn't know
until we were miles away that Alex had slipped the huge bra in his
pocket. He held it out by finger and twirled it with a grin. He
said, "I just have to get Walter to pose in this for us."
Something to look forward to.
The testosterone was hot and heavy in those gyms. I won't say that
every man who was a member was gay, but I never saw so many men
without makeup in my life and the showers rang with the sounds of
soap being dropped. Alex was in his element, admiring steroid heavy
beef and sighing like a cat in heat.
Swaggering up to the man I thought was the manager, I brandished a
picture of Walter Skinner in his face. "This is a friend of mine. He
likes to box."
"So, what of it? A lot of guys like to box. Doesn't mean a guy
doesn't like lace on his knickers," the burly guy said.
"Yeah, right," I said. "But Walter is missing. I hear he worked out
here."
"Might be true," the manager said.
"I'm a private detective. Walter's ex-wife hired me to find him," I
said.
"Why don't you try the battered men's shelter down the block?" the
manager suggested. "Whatever you heard, Billy Thurston isn't a nark.
Alex leaned down then to tie his shoe and remained down for a long
time, his butt wiggling as he concentrated on his task.
The manager might still have lace on his shorts, but he definitely
preferred a walk on the wild side to domesticated bliss with some
nice hard working gal. His eyes just about spun in circles.
"You know, I was thinking that somebody should show me some moves,"
Alex said in that husky voice that always drove me wild. "A boy like
me has to know what to do when some female just won't take 'no' for
an answer."
I smirked. The word "No" was not in my babe's vocabulary. His
philosophy in life was why fight them when you can fuck them.
However, the manager bought it hook, line, and sinker. He said, "A
sweet little thing like you needs to be shown the ropes by a tough
guy like me. I know how to handle those females who think they have
the right to paw a guy all over."
The guy might be a muscle bound brute now, but I could see that he
must have been the kind of guy in high school that hung around with
the football team and got passed around like a bottle of champagne
after a game. I never dated too much in high school but, at least, I
had never ended up as the groom of the football team.
Alex strutted up to the manager and put his hand on his arm, looking
up into his eyes with that sweet expression I saw whenever my darling
wanted a new pair of stockings or a down payment on a new pair of
diamond earrings.
"But before I can start training, I have to find dear Walter," Alex
said. "Because right now I'm so worried that I can't even get my
beauty sleep."
The manager gaped. He said, "Man, we can't have that. Look, Walt was
a regular here, but he couldn't afford his dues when the bitch queen
made him quit his job. That Teena Mulder is talking about closing me
down. Wants male contact sports outlawed. What am I supposed to do?
Open a knitting club?"
Another one of my mother's fans. I know they say honor your mother
and father, but matricide was looking better and better. I handed the
guy a card for the men's liberation movement headquarters and
said, "Join us or you may as well as get yourself measured for the
lace apron my mother will have us all wearing if she isn't stopped.
"You're her son?" Billy asked. He sneered and said, "I'm surprised
you aren't locked up in some finishing school."
"I escaped," I said. It was true. I had to seduce the head professor
to get the key to the gate, but that hadn't been hard. Alex wasn't
the only one that could bring out the kink in a supposedly straight
guy.
"I don't know if I can trust you," Billy said, "but what the hell.
The last thing that Walter said to me was that it was a woman's world
and that if he wanted to be a real cop, maybe he had to be female."
"No!" Alex and I squealed at once, thinking of the horrible loss of
that thick cock we had both admired when the three of us had gathered
for a little manly gossip in the men's room.
"Did he say anything about Sweden?" I asked.
"I don't know, but he was taking hormones and his chest was getting
bigger," Billy said. "I tried to talk to him, but he kept saying a
man has to do what a man has to do even if it meant becoming a woman."
"I better check with the airlines," I said, dolefully.
Sex change operations weren't being done in the United States, but
sexual mores were different in Sweden. Why, they had recently allowed
men in their armies, even letting them wear cute little pleated
skirts as if they were women! It was well known that too much freedom
for the testicles made men horny and overly aggressive. That's why
tight pants were always in fashion...
Alex looked at his watch and said, "I have a number to do at Sam's. I
heard that Didi was bringing a bunch of producers to the club. It
might be my lucky day."
Shit, the day that Alex got his chance at stardom was going to be the
day my luck ran out. I didn't think I could hold him in a
relationship once he had a taste of the kind of life Vancouver had to
offer. Nothing could compete with the glitz and the glamour of the
movie machine of the world. It was the kind of place that made Canada
one of the major powers of the world while the United States remained
its sleepy neighbor to the south.
I decided I would check out the airline tickets later or maybe Pendy
could do it while he was hiding under Scully's desk. I thought he
must find it boring except for when Dana was actually sitting in her
chair. He eats when he's bored. Scully appreciates that.
Anyway, I put some feelers out for a meeting with my favorite
informant. Deep Throat catered to closeted gay men, but for a few
bucks, he would also put on a show for horny women who wanted to see
hot guys get it on. The guy had his way of finding things out. After
all, just because he seldom talked on a job because of the bent of
his talents, doesn't mean he didn't listen.
Tottering in high-heeled boots, his pants so tight that he had to
have spandex in them to go down on his knees, Deep Throat was like a
caricature of the person I didn't want to be. His suit jacket had
padded shoulders to emphasize his manly musculature and his shirt was
unbuttoned right down to his belly button. You might think that he
was too old to make money in the meat market, but his reputation made
his age irrelevant. Everyone wanted to say they had seen Deep Throat
at least once.
I plastered myself against the alley wall as Deep Throat knelt to
give me a cover story.
"You know the cop, Walter Skinner?" I snarled.
"Might," Deep Throat muttered. "Might have done business with him
once or twice."
Yeah? Well, that pissed me off. Why the hell had Walter paid for it
when Alex and I would have done him for free?
"You hear anything about him? Like he left the country?" I asked.
"If the shark stops swimming it will die," Deep Throat muttered.
Ah, shit, not this crap again. Deep Throat sometimes just had to be
inscrutable. It came from his past as the kind of whore who hung out
at the local theater and gave head during Charlene Chan movies.
Resisting the urge to pick Deep Throat up by his necktie, worn as a
symbol of his male subservience even with the unbuttoned shirt, I
said, "In plain English, please."
Sulkily, Deep Throat said, "Don't look to Sweden, Mr. Mulder.
Perhaps, you best seek a disguise where Mr. Skinner would feel most
at home."
And that was all the old fart would say...
When I arrived at Sam's later, I saw Alex holding hands with a dame
in a power suit. Oh shit...
The woman wasn't any spring chicken. She had gray hair that she wore
in tight curls. She wore that exaggerated style of brassiere that
pushed her breasts out into fearsome, sharply peaked cones as emblems
of her feminine power. She held my lover's hand in hers as she leaned
across the table pushing those frightening boobs into his face.
As I watched, Sam sauntered over to serve them and accidentally
spilled a pitcher of cold beer over the producer. Good one, Sis, I
knew there was a reason I didn't strangle you with your pigtails when
you used to make my life miserable by hanging my lace boxer shorts
out my window.
As I stood in that doorway, I felt more like a two bit loser than I
ever had in my life. The black cloud that dogged my steps darkened
Sam's already murky atmosphere to the point that you would need a
Seeing Eye dog just to get to the john.
Dead leaves blew wetly in the door I left gaping.
...And it was spring.
Sam rolled her eyes and Dad crept out of the corner to sweep up the
debris that followed me in. Dad was putting in some time as a swamper
for Sam since Mom had cut his allowance again for failing to iron her
shirts properly. Dad dabbed at his eyes with his little lace apron,
careful to avoid streaking his perfectly applied mascara. The poor
schmuck was always trying to get Alex to tell him where he bought his
non-streaking mascara and didn't believe it when my male fatale lover
batted said lashes before explaining he wasn't wearing any.
"Who's the dame?" I asked out of the corner of my mouth.
"Christine Cartier," Sam replied, slapping me on the back in
sympathy. "She's the rising star of a new television network and
she's selling a big load of manure to Alex."
"Yeah?" I said after I stopped choking on the toothpick I had been
chewing on.
I wish I could count on Alex to stand by me, but he lacked moral
fiber. In fact, he thought it was a breakfast cereal for health nuts
and refused to consider having any.
I heard a happy squeal and Alex came flying across the room to show
me a new diamond ring. Oh man, Christine Cartier knew my babe's
weaknesses. She was playing him as smoothly as an ermine violin.
Wrapping around me as sweet and clinging as a silk suit, Alex managed
to climb into my lap while I was standing up. He immediately tried to
suck my tonsils out and I was willing to let him.
"Look what Christine gave me," Alex sang out, flashing the diamond
ring in my eyes.
The woman stared across the room, looking as baleful as a basilisk
lizard at me. Alex said, "She says she can make me a star! She has
this TV series on a new network."
Just then, Christine crooked her finger at my Alex. Somewhat
regretfully, he wiggled his way off my lap, leaving a lump in my
throat and a bigger one in my pants. A moment later, Alex said in a
shocked voice, "I can't. I won't. Don't ask me to do that."
Alex might look like a party boy, but maybe there was some sterling
silver beneath the glittering exterior. He ran for the men's room,
crying so prettily that most of the room headed out to comfort him.
The big bouncer Sam had hired, Ms. X muscled in between the room and
my darling. I slipped by her with a wink of gratitude. She winked
back and pinched my ass...something Mr. X saw as he sat knitting lace
in the corner. He started crying again and frantically paging through
Fredericks of Vancouver for the perfect sexy little number that would
win back his mate's errant affections.
Alex was dabbing cold water over his red eyes. I struck a pose in the
doorway, pretending that I didn't care why he was crying.
"What did the bitch say to you?" I asked. "That she wants to change
your name to something less ethnic like Alexander Hamilton?" The guy
was famous for his tea parties when his wife had been the US
treasurer and fighting duels with traitors like Erin Burr, the half
Irish politician.
"No, she says that I have to give you up to sign with her," Alex said
with a sniffle. Somehow he managed to make his red nose and watering
eyes attractive.
"Yeah, well, that's a problem?" I sneered. Damn, if I was going to
let this bad boy see me weeping over him.
"You know I love you, Fox," Alex said, using that damn name I hated.
"But you're going to do it?" I said, not letting myself hope.
"I don't know," Alex said. "I want to be with you, but you know all
I've dreamed about since I was a little boy was being a star. I
wanted to be a sex symbol like Marlin West or Robbie Hayward. I
wanted to be the pin up boy in every locker in the Marine Barracks.
But Christine says that America isn't ready for a gay sex symbol. She
wants me to be seen with female action stars like Clara Gable or
Hanna Bogart."
"You want to be a star for acting or because you're the biggest bimbo
in Vancouver?" I asked.
The sad thing was Alex had to think about his answer.
As it turned out, Alex surprised the hell out of me by telling
Christine 'no'.
Then my lover found out from our old friend Didi Xander that
Christine had Alex black balled...a serious condition for an aspiring
male star. He would never work for a major studio with the crap
Cartier was spewing about him.
I couldn't stand the look in Alex's eyes. "Take the job," I
advised. "When you're a big star, you can laugh in Cartier's face and
we can be together again."
I walked out of that bar with my head high, but with a broken heart.
To my surprise, I walked right into the man I was seeking. Or at
least, it was someone who looked like Walter if he'd been born a
woman. He had bazooms out to here and his long, long legs and his
great ass were cupped in the traditional gray flannel skirt of a
detective. His bald pate had been replaced by a beehive hairdo that
increased his...her already great height.
I couldn't help gazing at his groin, wondering what lay under that
smooth appearing v between his legs. It was damn tragic.
"Walter?" I said, reaching for the flask of rum I had put in my hip
pocket when I realized what was happening between my baby and me.
The look the big gal gave me would have frozen the fleas off of a
polar bear.
"The name's Wilma Hyde," the woman said.
The voice was higher than Walter's, a lot higher, the kind of sound
you get from kicking a guy in the balls. And I should know about that.
"Sorry, I thought I knew you," I said.
"You're mistaken," Wilma said, and strode off like a destroyer
heading for war.
Damn.
I started to follow, but Ms. Hyde turned around and poked at my chest
with her finger. "Get lost, boy, or I'll have you arrested for
solicitation."
One more arrest as a hooker and I may as well put a coin slot on my
ass. I backed off, but followed from a distance. Wilma had a
respectable dive on the edge of the high rent district. It gave me an
idea and I went home to collect Alex. We were going to go stepping
out as a pair of business dames.
You can imagine the fuss that Alex made about going without makeup.
You would have thought I asked him to walk out naked...no cancel
that. He would have enjoyed doing that. I've got to say, if dames
were as pretty as Alex was dressed as one, I might have made my Mom
happy. 'Course, that's only if the dame had a nice thick cock beneath
her skirt.
I thought I looked good. Sure my nose is on the big size for a dame,
but Sam's isn't a nubbin either. As we walked down the street near
Wilma's boarding house, I enjoyed Alex's sexy walk until I remembered
our disguises.
"Crap," I hissed, "Alex, quit wiggling your ass. Walk like a woman.
They don't move their ass like that, like they're wanting us to watch
them."
"I can't walk any less sexy," Alex bitched, but he tried to pull it
in a little despite his complaint.
My plan, and it was a good one, was for the two of us to rent a room
in the boarding house to keep an eye on Wilma.
It would have been fine except that some of the denizens of the
underworld chose Alex and I to mug.
We stood up for ourselves naturally. Despite the song and dance that
Alex gave Billy Thurston, he was a hell rat when provoked. The two
teenage street punks who tackled him got a big surprise. He punched
and kicked like a woman. I drew on my brass knuckles and rearranged a
set of teeth before a member of the gang banged me on the head. I
heard Alex shout and come to my defense and then I fogged out.
I woke up with my head in Walter's lap. His blouse was off so I was
very aware that he was way out in front in his Maidenform Bra. Funny,
even with the fright wig off, he had the kind of self-confidence to
carry off his female impersonation.
"You just about blew my cover," Walter said glumly.
I looked past him to observe Alex buck naked at the dressing table,
happily restoring his makeup.
"You're under cover?" I asked.
"Yeah, what did you think? I had a sex change operation?" Walter
scoffed.
Snagging the elastic of the bra, I took a peek. Nothing but padding
there and Walter's chest had a bad case of five o'clock shadow.
Walter reached down and adjusted his fake boobs, pushing them up with
both hands.
"I'm on a case," Walter said, "Took a job with naval intelligence.
Your Scully got me the job through her mother."
"Wow," I admired. "So naturally you could use the help of a shamus
like me."
Rolling his eyes, Walter said, "I don't suppose I could persuade you
not to help?"
I shook my head.
"Even if it involved your mother?" Walter probed.
"Hey, my mother needs to be reined in for her own good," I
replied. "Come on, handsome, sing..."
Two hours later, Walter put his guitar away and was ready to tell us
about the case. Who was to know he was a thwarted rock star?
"So the trouble goes deep," Walter said. "Your mother is dirty,
Mulder, very dirty."
"Tell me something I didn't know," I said. "I know what kind of dame
my Mother is. She's a stone cold bitch that eats balls for breakfast.
She's the kind of woman that gives motherhood a bad name. I'm not
saying she drove my dad to drink...she's so mean that she made him
walk to it."
"I didn't know you felt that way, Mulder," Alex said.
"My mother made me a homosexual," I said.
It was true. My Mom had been in charge of a scientific project to
biologically engineer sexier men. I didn't know how to tell Alex that
he was part of an experiment gone terribly wrong. He was the ultimate
aphrodisiac, sex on two legs, just as they intended, but contrary to
plan, he was only slightly interested in the female sex...mostly when
they had diamonds, chocolate, or a mink coat in their hands.
My Mom had told me that he was a mutant to turn me away from Alex,
but it didn't work. Knowing that she made my baby the way he is made
me crazier for him than ever.
Walter said, "Be that as it may, Mulder, I'm not sure if you're
prepared to deal with the truth."
Staring out the window, I muttered, "The truth is out there. I can
take it, Skinner. I'm a hard bitten shamus."
"Yeah, but we weren't talking about your sex life, Mulder," Walter
said.
How the hell did he know that my baby's bites? I've got to keep my
eye on Alex's sweet mouth. It might be going places without me.
"Why don't we start with why Maggie Scully put you on the case?" I
said, "She knows I love going under cover."
"Yes, I read that in the men's room at your sister's place," Walter
said. "Look, Admiral Scully needed someone your Mom doesn't know. You
can't tell me that she wouldn't know you in a dress."
Okay, so I cross-dressed when I was a boy. Can I help it that I
wanted to grow up to be in charge of things like my Mom, not a brow
beaten weakling like dear old Dad?
"Yeah, okay, I was out," I said. "So why not a woman?"
"They needed someone with a background in law enforcement, someone
who had nothing to lose," Walter said, "That was me. Think about it.
Your mother only hired secretaries who make her look thin. These days
that takes some doing. And, of course, she only hires women because
of her position that men should stay home with the kids. I'm a wizard
with a word processor and I file like a demon. I aced the job."
"Okay, well, that's a relief," I said, "I was afraid that you went to
Sweden and had the operation."
"I'm not that desperate to be a cop," Walter said, sounding horrified.
"Good for that," I said, "I know you have a pretty package."
Walter pointed to a gaily wrapped box on his dresser and said, "Glad
you like it. My niece is having a tenth birthday party.
Which explains why Alex and I had not yet tasted the forbidden fruit
of Walter's love. The guy could be a bit dense when you were trying
to seduce him.
"What is dear old Mom up to any way?" I asked.
"Nothing much," Walter answered. "She's planning on using this new TV
network to broadcast subliminal messages during her run for
President. Once she's elected into office, it will be a bleak day for
liberated men. She intends to make it illegal for men to work.
Unmarried men will be forced to live with their female relations
until they have a wife."
The horror...the horror...
"I'll help you in any way I can," I said. "We have to stop her."
"Glad you agree, Mulder," Walter said. "The best way you can help is
to leave me alone. If your mother spots me with you, I'll end up
sleeping with the fishes."
I started to light up in a smile, thinking Walter meant my apartment
since Alex had bought me a tank of fish, but Alex kicked me and
said, "He means she'll kill him."
"Oh," I said. "Yeah, Alex and I will keep our distance."
"What you can do is to look into this Christine Cartier," Walter
said. "She appeared out of nowhere a few years back. I think she's
hiding something."
"If she's hiding something, I'll find it," I said. Yeah, that was
good.
"No, Mulder, you need to keep an eye on your mother. Let Alex get
Cartier," Walter said.
"You know that Cartier told Alex that we have to break up if he signs
a contract with her," I said mournfully.
"From what I understand, Cartier is a scheming evil bitch just like
your mother," Walter said.
"I bet I can have her eating out of my hand or even lower," Alex said.
I frowned warningly and said, "Keep away from her. I think she has
designs upon your body."
Preening, Alex looked in the mirror and said, "Hmm, do you really
think she'll want me to get a tattoo?"
Nah, no use trying to correct him. I smiled and said, "The only brand
you better ever wear is mine."
Sighing, I said, "We'd better get back into our disguises and then
break up. We'll create a scene at Sam's tonight. I'm sure that Dad
will go running to Mom with the news. He is such a gossip!"
"Set them up, Sam," I said. "I'm drinking for two now."
Across the table, Alex admired yet another diamond ring as he perched
on Christine Cartier's lap. You would think the producer had an
inside link to the jewelry business the way she was throwing the
chunks of ice around.
Casting a dagger of a look my way, Alex said, "If he really loved me,
he would be happy for me."
"If you loved me, you wouldn't break up with me for a two bit part on
a second string network for a greenhorn producer," I said.
Too many adjectives, Alex's green eyes went blank before he whispered
loudly, "He's so much dust under my heels, Christine. Tell me about
the part that you're going to give me."
"You'll love it," Christine Cartier said. "You're the bad boy in a
love triangle. Our heroine is a cop, no, an FBI agent who is love
with her partner, but they don't know it. Her partner is this drop
dead handsome guy who is some kind of scientist, a pathologist or
something spooky like that. He's kind of traditional despite being in
a women's job. Goes to church and spends a lot of time with his
father, who wants him to get married and make babies. Only the
illegal aliens kidnapped him and gave him a vasectomy or something
for some reason. Then you come in, young, sexy, all over our FBI
agent, but she doesn't know that you're really a double agent. Trust
me, kid, it'll wow them. They'll love you."
I had told Alex a thousand times, "Trust no one, especially not the
guy selling aluminum siding to someone who only rents a housekeeping
room."
I could see Cartier had him head over heels...a position opposite to
the one which I preferred for my luscious lovely.
"And the series is filmed in Vancouver?" Alex gushed. "Do you think I
could really be asked out by Clara Gable?"
"Oh, yeah, baby, you're just her type. She likes them pretty and
dum...beautiful, enough to dumbfound her." Christine Cartier said.
You know, my Alex isn't stupid. He has the instincts and morals of an
alley rat, but he's as street smart as one too. He just likes to play
dumb and reel in the diamond rings.
"Why do people always want me to play the bad guy?" Alex
sulked. "Someday I want to play a good guy, you know, in a fluffy
apron waiting for my sweet wife to come back from the office."
"Sure, kid," Christine said. "Come on, toots, there's a big world out
there."
Looking straight at me, Cartier said, "I'm glad you got smart. Fox
Mulder was just keeping you down. I'm going to make you a star."
"Oh, Christine," Alex said, "Take me away from all this."
And the last I saw of him that night was his ass rolling itself out
the door like a couple of sweet rolls looking for a latte.
Hours later I staggered into my mother's house. She jumped up from
the chaise lounge where Dad had been painting her toenails. "It's
just a little game we play," she said, kicking Dad in the chops.
You know... I still wondered what Spender's cigarette foil was doing
in her safe...
I know he was an old perve, the kind that liked to screw cigarette
boys or top cross-dressing dames. Well, actually, I didn't mind
either of those predilections, but blackmail was another subject.
However, I had a role to play. Shaking my finger in my mother's face,
I said, "I know you had something to do with it. You put Christine
Cartier up to it. You took Alex away from me."
Standing with her feminine legs apart, Mother asserted all of the
traditional power of a dame. She threw her head back and laughed. "I
did it, I admit it, and I'm proud. Give it up, Fox. I've been
patient with you up until now. If you aren't married by the time I
take office, I'm going to have you committed. I hear you like
bondage, Fox, does a strait jacket count?"
Where the hell did she hear that I liked bondage?
I think someone was spying on me.
I think I realized who it was.
If there was anyone who hated me worse than my landlord, it was
Scully's brother, Bill. He was deeply into the anti men's rights
movement. Wearing a baby blue suit, his face perfectly made up, he
appeared on talk shows to condemn men who eschewed the traditional
roles. From the way he made it sound, every man who had a job was as
good as a baby killer. He always showed pictures of his ten children
and no one asked who was home taking care of them when he was
continuously on TV. It was a good thing that Grandpa Charles was an
accomplished Navy widow who could manage a horde of grandchildren the
way his wife ran a fleet.
I can't tell you how many times Bill raved into our office, kicked
over my card table desk and berated his sister for hiring a rascal
like me as her partner.
I have to say that Dana laughed in her brother's face and threatened
to tell everyone how he wet the bed until he was twenty-two and
needed rubber sheets in his honeymoon suite.
Lately, I noticed Bill Scully following Alex and me. Once when I
flipped up the shade, wearing nothing more than a pair of handcuffs
and a tie, I saw the flash of a camera and saw Bill's fat ass running
down the endless alley away from my room.
Looking my mother in the eye, I said, "You'll never get away with
this, Mother. Tell me, exactly how well did you know Carl Spender?"
Hearing that name, my Dad leapt up and ran weeping from the room.
Over his shoulder, Dad yelled, "Ask her where you inherited your nose
from, Fox. Ask her."
I turned to my mother. She looked at me scornfully and said, "Say
what you want about Spender. The man had ovaries. Be glad that I
found a man like that to father you. Bill Mulder was good enough to
change your diapers, but I needed something more to satisfy me. Grow
up, Fox. Mommy knows best."
I walked into the night with my world shattered around my feet. I
needed comfort and Alex was far away.
Where could I go?
An answer came to me.
I went to Melvin Frohike.
An hour later, I was puffing on the biggest doobie I had ever seen.
I said that I needed comfort. What did you think I meant?
Perves...
Frohike's newest gig was this home for displaced homemakers.
You got to admire the guy.
It was a woman's world where a guy had to depend on his looks to get
anywhere. Poor Frohike looked like a bleached out prune with a wild
growth of mold growing from the top. He was an odd duck in a world of
swans, but he never let it get him down.
Right now, the home was down to two inhabitants, the longest
residents so far.
John Byers was the model househusband, a great little cook,
meticulous about his cleaning, and yearning for children to fill his
nest. Sadly, he had hooked up with a husband beater. Susan Modesky
hadn't even given John her name. She had beaten him to the point of
putting him in the hospital, abandoned him, brought home floozies and
made him sleep on the couch while she entertained them in her bed,
and finally tried to kill him. Frohike had persuaded Byers to get a
restraining order and kept him from going back to Susan, but Byers
still spoke of the day when his Susan would love him the way he hoped
she would. Poor chump...
Now, Ringo Langly was another kind of fish. He had born to a strict
and old fashioned family who had arranged a marriage for him. Ringo
had escaped out the window of a formal shop, wearing nothing but a
pair of black lace boxers. Frohike had bailed him out of jail where
brutal female guards were snickering him at as he sat huddled in a
blanket. Ringo was quite happy, hanging out at Frohike's shelter and
working on computers. He was always talking about inventing something
called an Internet. I think it must be some kind of special
undergarment ...
As I inhaled, Frohike crocheted lace doilies between puffs. Byers
dabbed at his eyes and said, "That's so sad. I thought the story of
you and Alex was so romantic. You were just like a white knight that
fought his dragons except you're a man, of course. I always thought
that Susan would defend me from a dragon or another women..."
"You're on acid," Langly said. "Susan wouldn't mess with a dragon out
of professional courtesy to a co-worker."
"Take that back," Byers said.
"Or what?' Langly jabbed back.
"I'll...I'll scratch your eyes out!" Byers said, with a worried look
at his long carefully painted fingernails.
"Chill, man," Langly said. "Come on, John, face it. A man without a
woman is like a fish without a bicycle."
I could see that would keep Byers silent as he pondered what kind of
bike a fish would ride and what that had to do with women and men.
"I'm not a libber," John said. "I just wanted Susan to love me."
"We know, dude," Langly said, "We know. Have a toke."
And John did.
Half an hour later, we were eating whatever we could find in the
kitchen as John cooked us all omelets. Langly said, "You know, dude,
the only Christine Cartier I can find in the data base is some little
girl who stepped in front of a truck when she was seven. She had a
twin brother though. You don't think...."
Well, yeah, I did think.
I smirked, imagining my Mother's face as she realized that she had
hung her fortunes with a female impersonator.
"How the hell did you find that out so quickly?" I asked.
"Well, me and this dude, named Gore, have been hooking up computers
so they can talk to each other. You can send information, pictures,
even videos and look into other computers. We call it the internet,"
Langly replied.
"What else can you find out?" I asked, thinking this Internet thing
was something a private dick like me could really use...think of all
the porn I could share with other collectors!
Byers said, "Not that I'm really going to use the lessons I'm
getting. I don't really want a job...just a good woman to care of me,
but there are some strange titles in Cartier's flexography...The Spy
Who Died For Me, Hack In The Shack, Dead In The Water, Kiss Me, Kill
Me."
Frohike grunted and said, "Babe, I have a feeling that your Alex
might be in deep shit..."
Me too. I took a deep breath and let out a scream. And it wasn't a
girly scream. Sometimes, I just can't help letting out a little manly
emotion.
My mother's scheme would have to wait. I had to save my darling. I
looked at the guys and said, "We have to get to Vancouver."
"I'll drive you," Frohike said.
"We're going," said Byers and Langly together.
Oh, well, I had a feeling that I was going to need all the help I
could get.
I sat in the front seat with Frohike. Byers and Langly squabbled in
the back like dysfunctional siblings. Byers was wearing a big hat
with a veil, as he was worried about getting wrinkles from the sun.
He clutched a large purse grimly.
Langly had a handheld video game, which beeped incessantly.
I suppose we might be a male version of the three musketeers, but I
felt like we were more swash than buckle.
I just hoped we would get there in time.
Five hours later, we stood outside of a spooky estate in Vancouver.
There was an electric fence, Dobermans patrolling inside the
perimeter and a big brute at the gate.
"I think we could try the candy gram for Ms. Cartier routine," I
proposed.
"No problem," Frohike said. "I might have a device or two that can
help. Every once in a while, there's a battered man whose wife is
really trying to keep him. I don't generally take no for an answer."
I bet he didn't ...except from Scully, of course.
Blackening our faces, we crept into the compound after Frohike
clamped off the fence with a device that made it seem as if the
current was uninterrupted.
We entered the building and crept along the corridors until we heard
a scream.
It was my baby. I knew there was trouble and naturally my Alex was
right at the center.
As we rushed the door, a couple of brutes stopped me. "What you
doing, stud? You want to be a star?"
Trying to think quickly, I said, "Yes, Ms. Cartier promised me a
part."
"I bet I know which part, baby," the blonde guard said, grabbing my
crotch.
"You got to try out with us first," the brunette bitch said. "You can
bring the bearded number and the little blond, but the dwarf has got
to go."
"You don't understand," I said. "It's a low budget remake of Snow
White and the Seven Dwarves. My friend, Frohike, plays all of the
dwarves."
"Doesn't sound like our kind of film," the brunette mused. She nudged
the blonde and asked, "Hey, was Snow White a snuff film?"
While the guards were distracted in contemplation of Velma Disney's
productions, Byers hauled off with his purse and knocked one of them
unconscious. Langly got the other one with a shock from his video
game. Damn, I knew video games were violent.
We tied the guards up with our extra nylons. Knew there was a reason
a guy should never leave home without a spare pair.
The studio was locked. Frohike picked the lock, as he was the only
one of us who didn't have to crouch to see it.
There was a deadbolt inside, but I rammed the door open with my
shoulder when I heard my babe again.
Inside was a horrific scene.
One-armed men, dressed in skimpy costumes held down my lover...who
was naked.
Christine Cartier held a long knife, which glowed from the heat of
the campfire built on the set.
Laughing crazily, Cartier dropped to her knees to slice away at
Alex's arm. "I said I would give you a part.... but I didn't say it
would be one I took off you."
I attacked Cartier with my bare hands, my rage giving me the strength
of ten women. I knocked Cartier away from my baby. She fell and his
white wig flew from his head. Long dingy blond hair, thin at the
forehead was revealed.
"She's a man," I said, stating the obvious.
Frohike tore open Cartier's blouse and held aloft the well-filled
bra.
"Falsies!" Frohike cried.
The extras milled around in confusion. I said, "This picture is
canned. Get the hell out of here."
"Wait, a minute," one of them said. "You mean after we all had our
arms cut off to break into pictures, that the film won't be made?"
"That's show business," I said, as I rocked my baby in my arms.
Alex looked at me with shining eyes as he whispered, "Mulder, call
the TV news before we go out. I need the exposure."
Cameras were flashing as me and my babe walked out the door. Alex
accidentally dropped the blanket most of the way off his beautiful
body as we strode into the media circus.
"My hero," Alex said, as he swooned prettily.
I held him and let the cameras catch his best profile.
Cartier was dragged out, spitting and fighting. I had a feeling that
the next thing he would be producing was sparks in the electric chair.
As Cartier was lugged past me, he said, "Mulder, I can give you the
goods on your mother. Cut me a deal."
Well, so the man was a squealer too.
Still, the idea of getting my mother out of my hair sounded pretty
damn good.
I said, "Cartier, you better sing and sing long and sweet."
Five hours later, Cartier was ready to give me the goods on my
mother. It took that long for him to croon all the lyrics to the
Beach Girl's albums...
Dear old Mom ...
Somehow or other, she was the frontrunner in the mayoral race.
The Nielson Poles said fifty percent would vote for Mom. And they
were the biggest family in town.
When I returned to town, there were a few people missing.
Sam's bar was boarded up; the ivory colored piano had as many broken
teeth as a winning hockey team and most of the booze was shattered on
the floor. It was enough to make a tough guy weep.
My office had been ransacked. I arrived barely in time to save our
landlady, who had been pinned to the floor by the pencils that I had
a habit of throwing into the ceiling. I guess they had been jarred
loose in the fierce struggle that had taken place in my office.
"Red rum," She gasped, "Rosebud, Red rum."
Her hand scrabbled until she grasped a game...it was Clue.
I wasn't a detective for nothing.
I knew in a flash that she was trying to tell me something.
My cell phone rang and Scully's voice gasped, "Mulder, it's me."
Before my partner could say more, I heard an angry shout and the call
abruptly ended.
As the medics pounded up the stairs to carry away dear Ms. Haversham,
Alex got up from the floor. He had been under my desk....well...
under the card table that served as my desk. I thought he was just
under there from old habit, but he held up a small plastic evidence
envelope and said, "Mulder, look at this. Rose petals. And poor Ms.
Haversham said Rosebud. Who do we know has roses?"
"Dad," I said. My mind whirled. My Dad was such a meek homebody.
Could my Mom have corrupted him too?
"And your Mom's bedroom is red," Alex said.
I wasn't going to think about how he knew that.
Anxiously, I filled my mouth with sunflower seeds. I hadn't been this
nervous since Mom sent me to fat kid's camp for the summer. Did I
mention my brief bout with an eating disorder? Thank God for that
camp...the diet hadn't done a thing for me, but being locked up with
twenty other teenage boys with oral fixations had taught me there
were more things you can eat than food. I came back from sixty days
on a high protein diet, thin, sassy, and queer as a five-dollar
bill...as if anyone in their right mind would have a five-dollar bill
instead of a handy three-dollar unit.
"I think Sam has been abducted," I said. "Pendrell and Scully too."
"We have to save them," Alex said, "I loaned Pendy my favorite
diamond earrings, the ones with the emerald posts."
I stared at Alex. He wasn't exactly a gold-digger. My Alex would
trick someone else into excavating the gold for him before walking in
swishing his cute little tail and collecting the goods.
"It's time I paid a visit to my Mother," I said. "I'll distract her.
Frohike, you and Alex search my mother's bedroom and the greenhouse
for my sister, my partner, and Pendrell."
Alex muttered, "My earrings better not be hurt."
I looked in the mirror. After driving back and forth to Vancouver in
less than two days, I looked mad and distraught. That should persuade
Mom she had succeeded in breaking Alex and I up. The reporters had
all agreed to hold onto the coverage until we gave them the go ahead.
Alex had promised some sexy shots to compensate them for their
trouble. Funny how they all agreed promptly after that.
When I burst into my Mom's office, she shoved Walter AKA Wilma Hyde
off her lap. "I wasn't... we weren't...Fox William Mulder, how dare
you come into my office without asking?"
"Mom, where's Sam?" I asked.
"Sam? Your sister? Um, the aliens took her," Mom lied.
"They did not," I said. "Her bar was broken into and she's gone."
"Oh, Fox, a man your age needs a good woman to settle him down. You
should be raising children and not worrying your pretty head about
all these nasty little conspiracies."
With a mildly disappointed expression, Mother pointed at Wilma and
said, "What about her? She might be your type. She's almost
masculine. She has to pluck so much hair off her upper lip that she
might as well shave."
"Gee, Mom, now that you mention it, Wilma might be more my type. So
you wouldn't have any reason for concealing what happened to Scully
and Pendrell," I said in a mommy's boy voice.
"Oh, that nasty little Scully!" Mom said, "She used to be such a nice
sensible sort, the kind of domineering bitch that I thought had a
chance of settling you down, but you had to corrupt her. The way she
was poking around...well, it's not as if I have any dirty linen
hidden away."
Nah, Mom would have made Dad wash it if she did.
"Fox, I have had it with you. Thanks to my ads on the Vixen Channel,
I'm a shoe-in for Mayor. From there, I will run for governor and then
president. You can kiss your equal rights goodbye when that happens,
Fox. The things a mother has to do for her son..."
I smiled. Chris Cartier had confessed that Mother was using
subliminal suggestion to persuade voters to endorse her. Well, Mom's
ads had been pulled. It was a mean thing to do, but after Alex turned
over pictures he had hidden from me during the Spender investigation,
I had to do it. Pictures of my Mom with Carl Spender ran instead of
her ads. Now the viewers would realize that she had associated with a
blackmailer and a racketeer. I hoped it would be enough to turn the
tide.
My Mom glanced at one of her security cameras and gasped. She shook
her finger at me and said, "Fox, this is the last straw. When I've
disposed of your nasty little pillow boy, the three stooges, your
partner and her fiance, I'm going to do what I should have done long
ago. You and Samantha are going to a nice private hospital where you
will learn to be the children I always dreamed about having. "
I had never listened as closely to my Mom, but she had never given me
a lecture holding a forty-four magnum in her hand.
"Bill, let loose the birds and bees," Mom said.
"Dad, don't do it," I yelled into the intercom. "Just for once in
your life, stand up to her."
Dad just took another swig out of the bottle hidden in his lace apron
and tottered toward a switch.
"It will be a terrible accident," Mom said. "I've warned Bill not to
play with his mutant insects and aviary. I'll probably have to commit
him too. Poor me. I'll get a good sympathy vote when they see that I
am as firm with my husband as I will be with every other rebellious
male."
Mom laughed again, her conical breasts heaving. She was mad,
completely, utterly mad.
I saw the first swarm of bees start toward Alex, Frohike, and his two
charges. I cried out and leapt toward my Mom. A shot was fired. I
felt it sting my cheek, but Wilma AKA Skinner had acted when Mom was
distracted by her evil schemes. He had tackled her and sat astride
her, his wig askew and his skirt riding up to show his hairy thighs.
Mom screeched, "You're a man!"
"Last time, I looked," Walter said.
"I hired a man," Mother yelled.
"Nice going, Ms. Mulder," Walter said, "I knew you really believed in
equal rights."
Mom had fainted. Her schemes thwarted, her life ruined, and her
feminine pride on the skids.
I expected the worst when I rushed into my father's greenhouse.
Instead, I found all the birds and the bees being digested by a giant
plant. Dad stood happily by, watching it.
"Dad, what happened? Why aren't my friends dead?" I asked.
Dad grinned and said; "I thought I told you about the birds and the
bees? In this case, they didn't have a chance against Alfred. He's my
masterpiece. I knew that your friends were safe. In fact, Alfred
seems quite taken with your sweet Alex."
Sure enough, the plant was purring as it digested. Alex petted it
gently and said; "I think it knows a man eater when it sees one."
"What about Samantha?" I asked. "Where is she?"
"Son, she's had enough. She's moved and left no forwarding address. I
think she's looking for a more normal family...she was muttering
something about finding out whether the Manson family had an
opening," Dad said.
"Dad, you know we're going to have to commit Mom," I said.
"Yes, son, " Dad said. "It's okay. I've been thinking about getting a
job anyway."
Frohike instantly produced a brochure for his home and took Dad under
his wing. I knew Dad was in good hands.
You know a guy ought to obey his Mom sometimes. Her last sane words
for me were to marry Walter.
It wasn't a bad idea.
Alex and I proposed to Walter at Scully and Pendrell's wedding
reception after he caught the bouquet, knocking Frohike, Langly, and
Byers out of the way in his bullish rush.
It was a simple wedding. Walter wore white. He coyly confessed that
he had been saving himself for the right man. Deep Throat's business
with him was purely business. He'd been Walter's informant before he
was mine.
And that pool boy thing was all a misunderstanding. The boy had
jumped into Walter's lap when the man was sunbathing in the nude. Not
that I can blame the poor chump...
Alex and I dressed simply in tails and matching cock rings.
It was covered by so many paparazzi that the flashing of the cameras
caused a genuine alien ship to crash in a nearby field.
The biggest studio in Vancouver signed Alex to a major contract. My
baby was finally going to be a star.
As for me, I hung my shingle out in the most expensive back alley in
Vancouver.
I knew I was going to do good.
Walter never did go back to the police force. He likes being a
private detective and he likes working under me. Who knew the bald
stud loved to bottom?
Walter has a desk in my office, but he spends most of his time under
mine. Sometimes Alex joins him for old time's sake or when some new
scandal surfaces about his past.
I send my Mom a card every Mother's Day, but you can bet it isn't
a 'get out of jail free card'.
Dad's doing pretty well. He's been sober for a year now, having
started an alcohol self help group. I never knew he was dyslexic. I
see his bumper stickers all over, 'I'm a friend of Bill W'. Of
course, he meant that W to be a M, but what the hell...
As for me, I keep busy with all my new cases. I'm Fox Mulder, private
dick, shamus to the stars...
That's my name and that's my game.
Way Undercover
by Ursula
"Here's looking at you, kid," I said.
