From: <clueseek@swbell.net>
To: <-1maturexfilesfanfic@yahoogroups.com>
Subject: **MXFFF** New WIP -- The Flower Garden 1/?
Date: Saturday, November 03, 2001 4:09 PM

TITLE: The Flower Garden  1/?
BY: SEEKERONE And LEELEE
RATING: NC-17. Like with all our stories, the whole series will 
certainly steam up the monitor. Lots of steamy sex, a spanking or 
two, a whorehouse and so on. If you're under 18, shoo on away, right 
now! You will be carded. I don't want to hear from you and I don't 
want to hear from your Momma. 
CATEGORY: Skinner/O.F., Mulder/Scully (Well. . . Sort of.)
SETTING: Our own little examination of the War Between the States, 
sometimes known to the United Daughters of the Confederacy as The 
Late Unpleasantness.
ARCHIVE:  Probably. Just ask.
COMMENTS:  Here are the redeeming historical tidbits -- General 
Orders No. 28 was real.  It was issued by Union General Benjamin, 
a.k.a. "The Beast" Butler, about two weeks after he occupied New 
Orleans. It may have precipitated by a Southern Lady who emptied a 
chamber pot on one of his officers. And yes, the prostitutes in 
occupied Nashville were inspected and licensed by the Union army 
doctors after syphilis reached epidemic proportions among Federal 
troops. Mercury was the treatment of choice for the dreaded venereal 
disease. It's probably debatable if the infection or the cure 
resulted in higher mortality rates. 
Most humble thanks to Sylvie, who is without a doubt the world 
greatest beta, meticulous, patient and thorough.  This is a better 
story because of you and you're gradually making us better writers.  
(Although given the name of Southern Smut Writers, it is slow 
work!)   
SUMMARY:  Skinner reports to a new assignment. 
SPOILERS: Don't think I saw any of this in the seventh season, or 
even before that. 
DISCLAIMERS: Skinner, Spender, Fox, Scully, Pendrell and the Russian 
are all the blonde surfer dude's. The rest are all ours, with some 
genuine historical characters who decided to visit, such as most of 
the military officers on both sides. The majority of the battles, 
manners and other events are actual history as well. 
FEEDBACK: Worshipped, adored, read and reread again and again. Drop 
us a note and let us know what you think about this chapter or the 
whole series: clueseek@swbell.net or Viceyy@aol.com   
And, until we get our long delayed web site up, if you'd like to have 
new chapters of whatever story we're working on sent directly to you, 
subscribe to our broadcast list -- The Southern Ladies Smut Writers 
Association. Just send an e-mail to: slswa-subscribe@yahoogroups.com 


Chapter 1

HEADQUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF THE GULF
Occupied City of New Orleans,
February, 1865

	General Orders No. 28
"As the officers and soldiers of the United States have been subject 
to repeated insults from the women (calling themselves ladies) of New 
Orleans, in return for the most scrupulous non-interference and 
courtesy on our part, it is ordered that hereafter when any female 
shall, by word, gesture, or movement, insult or show contempt for any 
officer or soldier of the United States, she shall be regarded and 
held liable to be treated as a woman of the town, plying her 
avocation -"
It was a cold, wet and generally miserable late afternoon. The tall 
man in the worn blue uniform rode slowly, his slouch hat pulled low 
over his eyes to keep the rain out. His horse, a rangy bay gelding, 
was as tough and battle weary as his rider. The only sounds, beside 
the damp drizzle hitting the muddy cobblestones, were the plop of the 
horse's hooves and the leather squeak of the old split cavalry 
saddle. 

Major Walter S. Skinner, formerly of the Pennsylvania 2nd Heavy 
Artillery, rode down Canal Street toward Union Headquarters. He was a 
solidly built, muscular man with massive shoulders and well-defined 
limbs. Even so, he appeared thinner now than when the war started. He 
shifted uncomfortably in the stirrups to ease the aching in his 
thigh. He shouldn't complain, he reminded himself. Damn few men 
survived the Parrott shells that exploded at the Battle of Cold 
Harbor, mere yards in front of them. Luckily, the field surgeon had 
actually bothered to wash his hands and scalpel before removing the 
metal fragments and packing the injuries with fairly clean cotton 
bandages. He vaguely remembered moaning in agony during the bouncing 
wagon ride taking him to the Union hospital in Washington D.C., but 
that was all. The whiskey and the opium had gotten him through those 
first weeks until he could go home to finish his recuperation. The 
wounds had closed under his sister-in-law's tender nursing care.  But 
he could tell that every time she looked at him, she remembered the 
brother who wasn't coming home.  So, as soon as he could ride, he'd 
requested re-assignment, back in the field, away from those sad, 
burning, accusing eyes.

Sure enough, the Union army was desperate for experienced officers. 
Some might still try to dodge out by paying a replacement, but not 
him.  He'd heard often enough that it was a "Rich Man's War, Poor 
Man's Fight."  So, regardless of the Skinner family's prosperity, he 
was going back. He'd received a new assignment. Still not deemed fit 
enough for a field duty, he was the latest adjutant to Lt. General 
John Spender, federal commander of occupied New Orleans and 
surrounding parishes.

The slight snort of his mount brought him back to the present. It 
seemed the bay was taking exception to a faded lilac parasol just 
ahead. He noticed that the lady was glaring at him disdainfully from 
the sidewalk, but quickly dropped her eyes when he glanced her 
way. "The Beast" Butler might be back in the field with Grant now, 
but it was obvious that his General Orders No. 28 was still taken 
very seriously by the female population.  He grinned to himself. It 
was a shame. In spite of her slightly ragged dress, she was a pretty 
little thing. And it had been a long time, since he felt a woman's 
mouth or a hot wet pussy sliding around his cock. 

Of course, he'd have to be careful, he reminded his stirring penis as 
he watched the belle slip disdainfully into a shop. Unlike the 
pragmatic approach taken by the surgeon general with the occupying 
troops in Nashville, whores here were not inspected and licensed. The 
five dollar health certificate, renewed monthly, had nearly 
eliminated the incidence of syphilis in soldiers occupying the 
Tennessee city.  It was a good thing too, he thought remembering the 
unbearable screams of the sufferer two beds down from him in the army 
hospital. The harsh medical treatment for the disease was enough to 
make any man use one of those French things, he decided with disgust. 
A night with Venus, a month with Mercury. That's one of the perils of 
war you could avoid, old man, he reminded himself. 

A slovenly private stepped forward at the steps of the old Customs 
House, now U.S. Army headquarters, on Canal Street to take his 
horse.  Butler had used the relatively new building as his 
headquarters and obviously General Spender saw no need to change. 
Headquarters was a messy affair. The once beautiful building that the 
Union Army had commandeered had been given little consideration. 
Garbage was piled up on the sweeping steps and very little remained 
of the lovely granite façade that once surrounded it. The Major 
dismounted, pausing to scrap the mud off his boots and button his 
long, wool frock coat. He might as well go in looking like a decent 
officer, he thought as he brushed the raindrops off his blue uniform 
sleeve.

Lt. General Spender himself wasn't known to run a tight ship. This 
was evident to Skinner when he entered the building. The waste and 
wanton destruction he saw around him turned his stomach. Skinner just 
shook his head in disgust. He might be a hardened practical soldier 
but he could still understand the value of order. Junior officers 
wearing unkempt uniforms were slouched in mahogany arm chairs, 
chewing tobacco and often missing the spittoon. Their dirty boots 
were propped carelessly on the scratched and scarred surface of a 
once fine inlaid walnut Chippendale table. 

They ignored the entrance of a superior officer and went about their 
business of loudly talking and cussing. Skinner had half a mind to 
start kicking some junior officer ass, but somehow it just seemed 
like a waste of time. He was here to do a job. A job that would 
hopefully take until he was fit for active duty. Or better yet, until 
this cruel war was over and he could go home. Or at least where ever 
he decided home was to be. After his experience with his sister-in-
law, he felt groundless. The army was his only home and damn a poor 
one it made, he thought as he looked around in distaste.

An unknown Lieutenant finally showed him into the General's office.  
Lt. General Spender looked no better than his slovenly staff. His 
office was a mess of papers and the air in the large office was stale 
and smoky from the noxious smelling cheroots that Spender was 
constantly lighting up.  Obviously Spender followed the infamous 
habit of General Grant. The heavy Oriental rug muffled Skinner's 
boots as he marched across the room to the man seated at a large 
walnut desk.

"Major Walter S. Skinner, reporting for duty, sir." He announced 
firmly, removing his slouch hat and tucking it under his arm.

Spender waved off Skinner's salute with an impatient gesture of his 
hand. "At ease, Major," the General nodded, the omnipresent cigar 
dangling from his fingers.  Seeing the manner that Spender was 
running things helped Skinner to understand the disdain he had felt 
from the lady on the street. To her, all Yankees must be just like 
this scalawag before him. As far from a gentleman as any properly 
raised man could be.

Spender leaned back in the heavy leather desk chair and gave Skinner 
an obvious assessment, ignoring the official orders the man held 
out.  "Just give them to the Lieutenant," he commanded 
brusquely. "And, Pendrell, get Lieutenant Mulder."  

Skinner felt an immediate dislike for the man. The manners of his 
staff and the way he ignored so basic a military protocol troubled 
the Major. 

"I don't believe Lieutenant Mulder has returned from patrol, sir," 
the blonde soldier responded, as he took the papers from Skinner's 
hand. 

"Wasting time with some old voodoo witch, no doubt. Get him in here. 
Then be prepared to show Major Skinner his quarters, after I've 
reviewed his assignment. Dismissed."  The old man folded fingers 
stained with yellow with nicotine under his chin. 

"Sit down, Major," Spender ordered.  "I have a particular mission for 
you here in New Orleans."  

Skinner took the offered seat after dusting it off with his gloves 
and waited for the General to speak. There were no further courtesies 
exchanged. No polite inquiries about the state of Skinner's health. 
Spender got immediately to the point.

"We have a spy ring here in the occupied zone, Skinner." Spender said 
around the smelly cheroot that was wedged between his teeth. "It 
appears they are supplying the Rebels with information and also there 
are also rumors that they're smuggling in drugs and medicine."

"Medicine is valuable and greatly needed by our army. Your job is to 
locate and expose this spy ring. Lieutenant Mulder has already been 
working on the problem. He will give you the information he has 
gathered so far and assist you in finding the culprits."

Skinner offered a "Yes sir." And then held his tongue. The General 
seemed more interested in the medicine than in any information the 
spies may be passing. 

He listened carefully as the old man continued to outline the 
problem. Espionage and smuggling. Highly sensitive military 
intelligence was getting sent to Pemberston and the rebels at 
Vicksburg, who were using it to evade Union advances up the 
Mississippi river. Quinine, opium and other contraband medicines were 
coming into the port and being smuggled to the Confederate hospital 
across Lake Pontchartrain.  General Ulysses S. Grant was severely 
displeased with the situation.  And knowing Grant, he had probably 
expressed himself in an extremely profane and forthright manner on 
the subject to General Spender, thought Major Skinner.

It wasn't that unusual in a war like this, Skinner reflected.  Lafe 
Baker, chief of the National Detective Police, the undercover, anti-
subversive, spy organization, and Allen Pinkerton, head of the Union 
Intelligence Service, were spending all their time and a lot of 
manpower trying to stop the rebels from knowing what the Union Army 
was doing before the Army itself did.  Skinner had met Baker and 
disliked the man thoroughly. He was probably corrupt, and certainly 
brutal and abusive toward civilians, innocent or otherwise, 
unfortunate enough to be captured by his organization.  Pinkerton was 
better, even though he was a Scotsman.  He'd stopped at least one 
assignation attempt on Lincoln already.

And as for smuggling, you might as well try to stop an army man from 
fornicating on Saturday night.  Down in Belize, merchants were 
infamous for smuggling goods to the Confederates. And as for Bermuda, 
hell, many of their merchants had family and commercial ties to their 
counterparts in Virginia and other Southern states. It was a known 
fact that they were making fortunes running Union blockades for the 
Confederacy, even though Bermuda had abolished slavery in 1834. And 
this whole part of Louisiana  had a long history of smuggling and 
piracy, all the way back to Jean Lafitte, who saved Andy Jackson's 
ass at the Battle of New Orleans.  

Spender got up from around his desk and walked over to where the 
Major sat. Leaning in close enough for Skinner to gag on the 
combination of bad breath and smoke, Spender said in a soft gravelly 
voice. "It is very important that your mission remain secret. The 
locals, as you can imagine, resent our presence. They feel that 
medicines should be made available to our enemy. But as we know, our 
supply lines must remain secure. The foe shall have no aid and 
comfort in his treason."

Skinner sat back and digested Spender's information while the man 
stubbed out his cheroot and lit another. Something wasn't quite right 
about the General's concern. Why would a high-ranking officer be more 
interested in supply problems rather than the espionage? From what 
Skinner had read, it was not such a significant amount of medical 
supplies to cause hardship to the Union Army. Odds are, the local 
populace instead of the enemy was using the medical supplies. But as 
Skinner watched Spender sitting back down behind his untidy desk with 
a flourish, he realized that to the General's mind all southerners 
were the enemy.
 
The sudden slam of a heavy door jerked him out of his reverie.  "Lt. 
Mulder, reporting as ordered, sir" came a slightly breathless New 
England twang from over his shoulder.  

Skinner turned in the leather chair to look at the soldier.  The man 
was tall, lean and lanky like a young racehorse.  But his clean, blue 
uniform had been carefully tailored and even his shinning boots look 
liked they fit him properly. 

"Lt. Mulder, Major Skinner.  The Lieutenant will be acting as your 
aide in this assignment," the General announced. 

"Major Skinner, welcome to occupied New Orleans," the Lieutenant 
responded.  The junior officer's enunciation was polished, well-
educated. Skinner guessed he was the privileged younger son of an 
influential Republican, sent down here to keep out of trouble. An old 
blood - old money family, unlike the Skinner family who had made 
their wealth recently in the very dirty Pennsylvania coal mining 
industry. His army commission had come from battles fought and won, 
not handed down due to his ability to speak Latin. Still, Skinner 
liked the looks of the man and was glad for the assistance.

"Lt. Pendrell has arranged for Major Skinner's quarters. When he has 
rested, he'll brief you.  Major, I expect a written report on my desk 
by 0800 on Tuesday.  Dismissed."

Mulder lead the way out of the General's office, waving off Lt. 
Pendrell's offer of a bunk in the officer's quarters. Instead Mulder 
got their horses and they were soon riding further down Canal street 
with Mulder explaining the lay-out of the city. 

Finally Skinner broached the subject. "Tell me what you've been able 
to find out so far."

Rain had begun to fall lightly so Mulder pulled his collar shut, took 
a deep breath and began his briefing. "About the spying, very 
little.  No progress to report there.  I do have some details about 
the black market medical supplies. They aren't a lot, but the 
smuggling has been steady. Through an informant, I was able to come 
up with a name of a possible storage location for them. But when I 
sent a few men there to search it, they couldn't find anything."

"Perhaps your informant lied."

"No," Mulder said. "The informant wasn't aware that I was listening. 
It's more than that. There seems to be a genuine conspiracy to keep 
the goods hidden." 

"Where did your men originally search?"

Mulder looked Skinner in the eye and then quickly away. Skinner was 
struck with surprise. The man seemed to be blushing! "Lt. Mulder?"

"It was an . . . umm  . . .whorehouse sir." Skinner tried not to 
laugh. The man WAS blushing. 

"So," Skinner said trying not to laugh. "You've found a connection 
between the stolen supplies and a whorehouse." Skinner looked around 
at the beautiful and almost fairy tale quality of the wrought iron 
heavily decorating the buildings that surrounded them. "Why am I not 
surprised?" he said quietly to himself.

Mulder had stopped in front of a large structure and got off his 
horse. Skinner followed, looked at the building and then back at the 
younger man questionably. 

"The Maison De Ville? Aren't we staying in the barracks along with 
the other officers?" he finally asked. 

Mulder gave him a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders. "I took 
the liberty of arranging better lodgings for both of us." 

Skinner looked up at the fine hotel in front of him. It was old but 
in good repair and a mouth watering smell was coming from the 
detached kitchen off to the side of the building. Skinner's stomach 
growled.

"It looks very nice and also very expensive," he said pointedly to 
the Lieutenant.

"My treat, sir. My parents send me more money than I know what to do 
with." Mulder said quickly before nervously adding, "I would much 
rather we work in comfort and if you are to stay in the barracks, 
then so should I. This way, we both benefit." 

Mulder was looking at him apprehensively as if expecting the Major to 
bite his head off over the subject. Skinner looked from the 
Lieutenant, back at the hotel, but it was Mulder who he was 
deliberating. Well-educated, respects protocol and wealthy. Mulder 
had an honest face and somehow Skinner felt that would be important. 
He looked again at the young man who stood anxiously beside him. Yes, 
he liked a chap who would choose to fight, even though it was so 
apparent that he didn't have to. He nodded his head and followed the 
man inside. Mulder should turn out to be a good ally in this. And 
somehow he felt that was what he needed.   

x x x x x x x

Skinner paused to remove his reading glasses and rub the bridge of 
his nose.  He threw the wire rims on his desk in disgust, barely 
missing the half-full ink well  Nothing.  After three days of talking 
to every ranking army officer, he'd gotten nothing.  The oil lamp 
flickered in sympathy, throwing soft shadows across the small room 
he'd been assigned.

Lt. Mulder looked up from the report he'd been reading, shaking his 
head.  "Sir, if there's a spy among our officers, I can find no 
evidence of him."  His hazel eyes looked steadily at his frustrated 
superior.

"The rebels are getting the information, somehow," Skinner snarled 
back.  "Grant's getting outflanked every time he tries to approach 
Vicksburg.  I don't give a damn about the medicines going to the 
rebel hospital, the poor devils can take any comfort they can get as 
far as I'm concerned. But I do care about our boys dying, because 
some damn fool can't keep his mouth shut."  He ran his hand over his 
bald head again. 

"There is one additional possibility, if you'd be willing to consider 
some . . . uh. . . recreation time," Mulder offer hesitantly.  At 
Skinner's inquiring glance, he continued, "Les Fleurs du Sud."

"What the hell is that?" came the caustic response from across the 
desk.

"Uh.. well, it's the name of that pleasure house I mentioned, down in 
the old quarter, off Royal Street. The one I suspected might be used 
for warehousing the smuggled medical supplies. The women are supposed 
to be upper class, but left destitute by the war. They all wear 
masks, use the names of flowers, and cater to Union officers.  But 
that could be 'cause we're the only ones with enough gold to meet 
their prices. They don't take script, regardless of patriotism, and 
they're damn expensive." Fox grinned at him.  "We could get some 
crawfish gumbo and then check it out."

Skinner's stomach rumbled in reaction to the thought of supper.  The 
hot spicy stew was just the thing on a cold February night, he 
decided.  And after all, it had been too damn long since he'd had the 
pleasure of anything besides his fist. 

End of Chapter One  

TITLE: The Flower Garden  2/?
BY: SEEKERONE And LEELEE
RATING: NC-17. Like with all our stories, the whole series will 
certainly steam up the monitor. Lots of steamy sex, a spanking or 
two, a whorehouse and so on. If you're under 18, shoo on away, right 
now! You will be carded. I don't want to hear from you and I don't 
want to hear from your Momma. 
CATEGORY: Skinner/O.F., Mulder/Scully (Well. . . Sort of.). 
Historical AU
SETTING: Our own little examination of the War Between the States, 
sometimes known to the United Daughters of the Confederacy as "The 
Late Unpleasantness."
            ARCHIVE:  Probably. Just ask.
COMMENTS:  Here are the redeeming historical tidbits for those so 
inclined - Les Fleurs du Sud were flower gardens planted 
surreptitiously in New Orleans. When the red, white and blue flowers 
bloomed, the shapes symbolized the national flag of the Confederacy. 
It was another way the ladies of New Orleans showed their defiance of 
the occupying Union forces.
The company of Goodyear and Hancock (yes, the same Goodyear who later 
made tires) manufactured condoms of vulcanized rubber in 1844. They 
were advertised in New York papers in 1861 as the "French 
Preventatives." The cost about .10 and unfortunately were often 
reused. <yuck!>
Given the amount of inflation in the 150 years, you can figure that 
today's equivalent price would be 16 to 20 times the cost mentioned 
in the story. So the cost of an evening of pleasure at The Flower 
Garden would be $500 - $1,000 in today's money. And given the fact 
the house requires payment in gold, not greenbacks, the actual value 
would be even higher.
All the music mentioned was popular during the war. "Riding the Raid" 
was written about Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson and James "Jeb" Stuart, 
two of the South's most able generals. "The Battle Cry of Freedom" 
was first performed at a rally in Chicago, shortly after the battle 
of Shiloh.  "Dixie" was actually written by a Yankee, Dan Decautur 
Emmett, for a minstrel show in 1859. 
            SUMMARY:  Skinner and Mulder visit The Flower Garden.
SPOILERS: Don't think the surfer dude ever EVEN thought about this.
DISCLAIMERS: Skinner, Spender, Fox, Scully, Pendrell and the Russian 
are all you know whose. The rest are all ours, with some genuine 
historical characters who decided to visit, such as most of the 
military officers on both sides. The majority of the battles, manners 
and other events are actual history as well. 
FEEDBACK: Worshipped, adored, read and reread again and again. Drop 
us a note and let us know what you think about this chapter or the 
whole series: clueseek@swbell.net or Viceyy@aol.com   
And, until we get our long delayed web site up, if you'd like to have 
new chapters of whatever story we're working on sent directly to you, 
subscribe to our broadcast list -- The Southern Ladies Smut Writers 
Association. Just send an e-mail to: slswa-subscribe@yahoogroups.com 


Chapter 2

"It is thought to be discreditable to a woman even to know of their 
existence. You may not mention them in public. You may not allude to 
them in a book without staining its pages. Our sisters, whose poverty 
is caused by the oppressions of society, who are driven to sin by 
want of bread, then regarded with scorn and turned away from with 
contempt! I appeal to you on their behalf, my friends. Is it not time 
to throw open to women, equal resources with men, for obtaining 
honest employment?"  
Remarks(Ladies did not make speeches in those days)by Miss Abby Price
The 1850 Emancipation and Women's Rights Convention

Le Vieux Carre
Occupied City of New Orleans
February, 1865

"I done ker who you are. You ain't comin' in here."  The old black 
man was short, barely reaching to Skinner's chin, but he shook his 
fist in their faces with angry determination. His neatly pressed 
black sack suit was almost as aged as he was and his hair was 
certainly whiter than his shirt. 

The two Union officers stared at him in stupefaction. They had 
enjoyed a pleasant Creole dinner before making their way down to the 
small alley off Royal Street. Lt. Mulder had told Major Skinner about 
Les Fleurs du Sud shortly after his arrival in New Orleans and that 
he considered it a possible hiding place for smuggled drugs. As they 
walked companionably down the darkened street, Skinner had grown 
excited at the thought of some "horizontal recreation." The thought 
of spending the evening with a tired, filthy whore of questionable 
hygiene held no appeal to him, even as part of an ongoing 
investigation. But according to Mulder this was a classy and very 
expensive bagnio.

He saw the wrought iron doorway set discretely into the modest, 
stucco building and felt that this was no cheap, garish whorehouse. 
The only thing that distinguished the building from surrounding ones 
was a little bouquet of flowers painted above the entrance. A quick 
tug on the brass chain, ringing the bell had admitted them into an 
undersized front hall.  

Stepping inside, Skinner was surrounded by the soft yellow glow of 
candlelight reflecting against old gilt mirrors on cream colored 
walls. It was obvious the worn brick floor and small mahogany table 
were frequently and lovingly polished. Bouquets of flowers were on 
every surface and the fragrant blooms filled the air with a subtle 
and pleasant scent. From across the hallway came the delicate sounds 
of feminine laughter and the click of glasses. All the sights and 
sounds indicated an enjoyable evening for a select few. But the 
butler refused to admit them to the house.

"Look if it's a matter of payment, I'll stand for Major Skinner," 
Lieutenant Mulder began, but was cut off before he could pull out his 
wallet.

"It hain't bout no money," the elderly man began stubbornly. "Miss 
Dandelion been looking fur you all evening. But she. ."

"Is there a problem, Payne?" came a warm contralto voice from the top 
of the stairs. Skinner looked up in surprise. The woman standing 
there was obviously tall, with black hair pulled up in a chignon with 
ringlets. A large mask made of black feathers covering her face. The 
dark red, heavy satin ball gown whispered of hidden female mysteries 
as she carefully descended the stairs. 

She strolled confidently toward the waiting men, head held high and 
fan held just at the proper angle. The tightly restricted corset had 
pushed her firm breasts up until they were almost free of the bodice. 
Her fair skin seemed to invite a careful and thorough exploration of 
her cleavage. 

Skinner was growing hard at the sight of her. She was just the type 
of woman that appealed to him. He'd had his fill of blushing innocent 
roses with eager eyes and soft hearts. His hard life led him to 
prefer women of the world with the strength to meet his passions and 
the ability to protect themselves from his indifference. 

"Madame Jardinier," Mulder took off his hat and bowed. The woman 
dropped her head in a stately nod, courteously acknowledging 
him. "May I present Major Walter Skinner, who is new to your fair 
city." 

"Welcome to Les Fleurs du Sud, Major Skinner." The lady imperiously 
held forth her hand for Skinner to kiss. 

He caught a twinkle in her laughing brown eyes as he accepted her 
hand. All right, missy, he thought, let's see what you're made of. 
Instead of the expected discrete gesture, he turned her wrist over 
and unbuttoned the tight kidskin. Keeping his eyes on her face, he 
slowly stripped the long glove from her arm. A red flush crept up her 
neck and he felt the pulse in her wrist jump in response to his 
touch. 

With a lazy grin, he pulled her hand up toward his mouth and placed a 
firm kiss on it. The skin was rougher than a lady's should be. Hmm, 
you work with these hands, he thought. His imagination immediately 
thought of the feel of those slightly rough fingers on his cock, 
stroking him, teasing him. His eyes challenged hers across their 
hands, as he caught the heady scent of gardenias, a hint of spice, 
and the warm smell of woman. He was already hard just at the thought 
of this woman lying beneath him, her nipples erect and just brushing 
his chest as he thrust into her.

The lady tossed her head in mock annoyance at his impertinence and 
rapped his knuckles smartly with her fan. "Indeed, sir. You attack 
southern fortifications as blatantly as General Hancock."

"Perhaps, I am equally desirous of their surrender," Skinner 
responded while stepping back and running his eyes down her body. He 
idly flipped the long kid glove back and forth in his hand.

"Harrumph," she commented with an unladylike snort and turned to the 
old butler. "Payne, why have these gentleman not selected their . . 
flowers for the evening?"

"That's the problem I'se trying to 'splain. Miss Dandelion's here 
awaiting for Lt. Mulder, but she's the last 'un. Everybody else done 
been picked."  The old man's mahogany skin flushed dark as the old 
furniture in his indignation.

"Well Major, it seems you will have to join us another evening." A 
sly smile crossed her face and she added, "Unless, of course, Lt. 
Mulder doesn't mind you joining him."

A threesome with Mulder? The young man shifted uneasily beside him 
but Skinner refused to look at him. He'd shared women before with 
brother officers, each one trying to outdo the other until everyone 
collapsed in a sweaty, exhausted heap. But somehow he didn't want 
that tonight. What he wanted was right in front of him, and he didn't 
want to share it with anybody. In fact, the way he was feeling, the 
way his body was responding to her, she might not be able to share 
her favors with another man for quite a while.

"What about you?" Skinner asked abruptly looking deep into her brown 
eyes, dramatically outlined by her mask.

"Me?" she replied, her fan suddenly still, her husky voice a tone 
higher.

"Don't you ever accept an . . offer?" the Major inquired with a 
lifted eyebrow. "Double the usual price."

The lady licked her upper lip, hesitating. "I don't. . that is. .  
I've never. . " She tilted her head as if considering his offer and 
Skinner went in for the kill. 

"Well? Why not?" he asked with just the right amount of command and 
impatience in his voice. 

The woman gave him back a look that told him she knew exactly what he 
was doing. She was a master at this game and Skinner felt another 
surge of lust for her. Yes, she was just what he wanted. An 
indestructible. Her regal nod signaled her capitulation. "Very well, 
Major. Double the price. Fifty dollars in gold, no script, no 
greenbacks."

Mulder was right, Skinner thought grimly. Most shrewd business people 
didn't think the paper money was worth wiping their ass with. 

As he reached for his flat wallet, she continued. "And the house 
rules are inviolate. You will not remove my mask under any 
circumstance and I will leave you sometime before dawn. And last, but 
not least, you will use the French protection." 

"What?" Skinner thundered in disbelief. He hated the touch of blasted 
rubber. The thought of not feeling her, not feeling all of her 
wetness around him was almost enough to make him change his mind. She 
was just so damn beautiful and he wanted her from the moment he laid 
eyes on her. 

"My ladies are clean, sir. If you can afford my company, you can 
spend the coin for the . . . the. . " the fan fluttered back and 
forth in agitation.

"Money is not the issue.  The damn things are an armor against 
pleasure, and a cobweb against infection!"

"Never the less, sir, you will use them if . ." she began.

"I should buy stock in Goodyear and Hancock," he muttered. "Very 
well, my dear. Agreed," he concurred, reclaiming her restless hand 
and tucking it possessively under his arm. He felt her shiver again. 
Payne pocketed the golden eagles and double eagles from both men and 
moved to bar the front door for the night. "Shall we?" he asked, 
gesturing upstairs.

"Come into the parlor for a few moments," her voice quavered 
slightly. "I must greet my guests for the evening and offer you 
refreshments." He pulled her close and strolled toward the room she 
indicated. He'd take her refreshments, but his patience could last 
only so long. Major Walter Skinner had a burning fire inside him and 
he wanted to see if this belle could stand the heat.

		            x x x x x x x x 

A riot of noise and light greeted them as they entered the exquisite 
parlor.  Be damned, Skinner thought at the number of blue Union 
uniforms.  You might as well hold roll call. Every ranking officer in 
the city was here from artillery, infantry, to the cavalry and even a 
few medical men. At a quick glance, there were perhaps twenty-five or 
thirty men in the long room and an equal number of women in ball 
gowns, wearing large feathered masks. Everyone was relaxed sitting on 
a variety of couches and chairs, small tables readily placed to hold 
food or drink.

The remains of a buffet dinner on a Sheraton sideboard and a large 
dining room table indicated that the party had reached the stage of 
comfort and satisfaction. Cigar smoke was heavy in the air, along 
with the click of crystal glasses as more beverages were poured.  
Laughter and loud voices mixed with the slap of cards and the clatter 
of dice.  Hmm poker, faro and chuck-a-luck . . Skinner thought. Other 
ways to separate a soldier from his pay. Madame Jardinier was not 
only beautiful but also a shrewd businesswoman. 

"Mulder," came a delighted voice to his right.  He caught a quick 
glimpse of a petite red headed woman as she threw her arms around the 
lieutenant's neck.  "I've missed you, you bad boy.  Why haven't you 
been back to see me?" she exclaimed while nuzzling his cheek. 

Mulder gave her a quick kiss. "Well, I've been kept extremely busy.  
I'd like you to meet my new commanding officer, Major Skinner.  
Major, this is Miss Dandelion."  

Bright blue eyes, the same color as her silk gown, peeped out through 
the outrageous white feather mask.  "Major. Welcome," she said 
extending her hand.

Well named, Skinner thought.  The light red braided hair did remind 
him of a lion's mane. He noted that Mulder kept a proprietary arm 
around her shoulders as he bent down to kiss the properly placed 
hand. Don't worry boy, I have designs on a high-flying strumpet 
tonight.

Suddenly he noticed the absence of his hostess.  Now where the devil 
had that attractive armful gone?

He continued to make polite small talk as Mulder brought them both a 
drink.  No cheap Monongahela rotgut here, he thought as he sipped,  
continuing to scan the room. Les Fleurs treated their customers well. 
Dandelion had pasted herself to the Lieutenant's side, both of them 
focused intently on one another. Skinner could tell that it was only 
courtesy that kept Mulder from ignoring him. 

"Major Skinner," came a very gruff male voice. "I see you are taking 
in the finer pleasures of the city."

"General Spender," Skinner and Mulder both came to attention, 
acknowledging their superior officer.  

"Oh at ease, gentlemen," he said without bothering to remove the 
cigar from his mouth. The man was only slightly better turned out 
than the last time Skinner had seen him. "Pansy, here, will be the 
one taking orders this evening," he nodded negligently at the dimpled 
blonde beside him.  Skinner could see the scared look in the young 
woman's eyes behind her mask and felt some compassion for her. 
Spender had the personality of someone who wouldn't be gentle with 
such a tender young thing. 

The sudden notes of Chopin's Prelude in A filled the room from the 
pianoforte in the corner. Goddamnit Skinner thought, grinding his 
teeth at the memories the lilting tune brought back.  Jackson used to 
play that.  It was their Mother's favorite music, just like his late 
younger brother was her favorite son. I do not want to hear that damn 
thing tonight, no matter how short it is, he decided.  

Leaving the General without saying another word, he pushed his way 
toward the instrument and saw with annoyance who was playing. Of 
course, it would be Madame. What the hell was her first name anyway, 
he wondered?  I can't call her Jardinier in bed. She sat on the long 
stool, her back arched with perfect posture. He fought back a wave of 
irritation. A proper, piano playing miss was not what he wanted 
tonight. He dropped his hand on a bare white shoulder and growled in 
her ear.  

"I did not come here to socialize with half the Union army, nor to 
hear you play that insipid rattle."

Madame shivered slightly at his rough touch. Dear lord, what had she 
gotten herself into? Then she remembered her father, quoting 
Napoleon's advice to his generals, "Audacity, audacity, always 
audacity." Courage, ma petite, she thought.

"Oh really," came the arrogant reply, followed by a quick toss of her 
head. "Perhaps you would prefer this to Chopin?"  With a quick 
harmony of transition, she began in sing in a strong alto as the room 
fell silent.
   
"'Tis Stonewall, the Rebel, who leans on his sword,
And while we are mounting, prays low to the Lord, 
Now each cavalier who loves honor and right,
Let him follow the feather of Stuart tonight.
Come tighten your girth and slacken your rein,
Buckle your blanket and holster again.
Try the click of your trigger and balance your blade,
For he must ride sure who goes riding the raid."

The last chord echoed in a room as still as a church.  Skinner glared 
down at her in disbelief. The brazen hussy. How dare she?  

Before anyone else could move or comment, Mulder jostled his way to 
the piano and sat down beside her with a quick laugh.  

"Now it's our turn, I believe" and at her gesture, he slid into place 
at the keyboard. His pleasant baritone voice was soon joined by the 
rest of the men in the room.

"Yes, we'll rally 'round the flag, boys, we'll rally once again,
Shout, Shout the Battle Cry of Freedom,
We will rally from the hillside, we'll gather from the plain,
Shout, Shout the Battle Cry of Freedom.
The Union forever! Hurrah, Boys, Hurrah!
Down with the Traitor, Up with the Star.
Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys, we'll rally once again,
Shout, Shout the Battle Cry of Freedom." 
 
"Well," Madame commented dryly as the last cheers died down, pushing 
him aside. "I think you might enjoy this. ."  
Oh, I wish I was in the land of Cotton--Old times there are not 
forgotten
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land
In Dixie Land where I was born in early on one frosty mornin'
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land

Suddenly every woman in the room was standing and singing:
Then I wish I was in Dixie. Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land I'll take my stand: To live and die for Dixie! 
Away! Away! Away down south in Dixie. 
Away! Away! Away down south in Dixie.

Skinner noted that the men in the room didn't seem to be bothered by 
this blatant display. The lure of complacent women and good whiskey 
was more important than any patriotism they might have felt. It 
infuriated him that their so-called cause could be so easily 
forgotten in the face of these comforts. 

"Enough," Skinner roared as the last chords were played. He quickly 
grabbed his tormentor up from the piano and tossed her over his 
shoulder.  The red satin and crinolines bellowed up and charming lace 
pantalets were displayed to the laughing company.  Ignoring the 
shrieks of indignation from her and the cheers of his fellow 
officers, he strolled from the room toward the hallway and upstairs. 

End of Chapter Two

Chapter 3

"In reference to passion in women, a vulgar opinion prevails that 
they. . . experience desires as ardent, and often as ungovernable, as 
those which lead to so much evil in our sex.  Vicious writers, brutal 
and ignorant men and some shameless women combine to extend this 
opinion. . .The best mothers and wives know little or nothing of the 
sexual pleasure.  Love of home, children and domestic duties are the 
only pleasures they feel."
Dr. George Napheys,  The Transmission of Life. 1851  


As Skinner unceremoniously dropped her onto the bed, Madame's mask 
hung crookedly off her face giving him a hint of her hidden beauty. 
He didn't care whether it was her room or not. His eyes raked her 
body up and down as he methodically unbuttoned his frock coat. Her 
black servant Payne had followed them into the room and was shifting 
from foot to foot and nervously wringing his hands. 
 
"Damnit, Major!" she exclaimed and flushed pink as she quickly 
righted the mask so it covered her face. "There is no call for 
coarseness." 

Skinner tried not to laugh. She was the Madame of a house of 
prostitution and here she was sitting up on the bed trying to look 
like an indignant schoolmarm. His eyes were drawn to her bodice, his 
breathing catching as he wondered how long before her breasts spilled 
out of the red gown. The cloth was already pulled taut over the full 
round globes and he had trouble refocusing his eyes. Dark pink 
nipples peeked at him over the silky material begging his kisses and 
he felt his groin tighten.

"Get out, Payne!" he ordered, but the old black man just stood, 
wringing his gnarled hands. 

Madame sighed. "It's alright, Payne," she finally said after a moment 
of tense silence. Madame gracefully slid to the end of the bed and 
stood up. Skinner just watched in amused surprise as the schoolmarm 
disappeared and she once again became the strong businesslike lady 
that he had met in the parlor. Her lazy sensual southern drawl 
returned. "Go fetch some warm water. Major Skinner will take a bath." 

Skinner turned back to her. "A bath is not the reason I came to this 
establishment," he said through clenched teeth. Unlike the men he had 
seen below, Skinner never went out without a wash and a shave. She'd 
find nothing to be repulsed about with him. 

"Never-the-less," she said sweetly, drawing out the word, "it's the 
rule of this house. Every guest gets a bath whether they need it or 
not." She looked him up and down. "The rules of this house are 
sacrosanct. I do not break them for anyone." 

"This house has too damn many rules and I don't want a bath." He put 
a firm finality into his voice, as he tossed his slouch hat onto a 
nearby chair. "I want you, Madame. Out of that dress. On the bed. 
Now!" The harsh command echoed in the still room.

He watched a shiver pass through her as she took a step back. She 
looked up at him and for a moment he saw a vulnerability in her eyes 
that floored him. This wasn't what he wanted. He wanted a strong 
sexual battle between two people that would leave them hungry for 
more. He was sick and tired of vulnerability. Sick of this damn cruel 
war and too many sad women walking around with empty eyes and broken 
hearts. Madame was supposed to be the opposite of this. That was the 
feeling he had gotten from her. He would take what he wanted and she 
would enjoy giving it, with no false promises on either side.

He was moments from simply bowing and leaving the room, when he saw a 
transformation take over what he could see of her face. A 
transformation so complete that he wondered if he had seen that 
frightened vulnerability there in the first place. 

"The rules will not be put aside even for you, Major." Her head was 
high and her eyes dared him to defy her. "You will have a bath and a 
shave. When you are done, and only then, I will get out of this 
dress."

Skinner felt a reawakening of his earlier passion. This was the woman 
he wanted. Still, he grumbled a bit while he sat down on the high 
poster bed and gestured for her to remove his boots. 

With her back to him, Madame straddled his outstretched leg with a 
flourish of petticoats and began to tug at the tight leather.  The 
attractive satin backside was just too tempting. With a grin, he 
pulled his foot up, planted it on her be-ribboned bustle and suddenly 
pushed hard.  
		
The stubborn boot slid off and the extra force tumbled Madame to her 
hands and knees on the faded Aubusson rug.  She glared up at him as 
she rubbed her bottom muttering unladylike sounds under her breath. 

"Not a position you favor?" he inquired with a lifted eyebrow.    

Before she could reply, Payne returned with two buckets of steaming, 
hot water. The old servant pressed his lips together, keeping silent 
as he filled the tin bathtub that was already half full of cool, 
clean water.

Madame stood near and he could feel her watching him as he slowly 
pulled off his long frock coat. He tugged the white muslin shirt out 
of his pants and slid the suspenders off his shoulders. They soon 
joined his hat in the chair.  Madame took a deep breath as he 
carefully unbuckled his heavy belt, making sure that the standard 
issue Army Colt revolver was within easy reach.

"I doubt you'll need that tonight," she whispered.

Skinner snorted in response, "Maybe not, but I'll keep the belt 
handy, just in case." He carelessly tossed his gold pocket watch, 
wallet and gloves on the marble-topped bedside table.  

He continued unbuttoning his heavy blue trousers and was surprised to 
see a faint blush creep up her neck.  He was glad he had forgone the 
cumbersome woolen underdrawers tonight. His heavy cock sprang up as 
soon as the last button freed it and he quickly shed the rest of the 
uniform.    

When he was completely nude, he stood in front of her and was 
gratified to see her watching him with admiration. The sparkle he saw 
in her eyes aroused him even more. He was grateful to see the skin on 
her cheeks turn a lovely rose hue as his cock lifted and filled with 
blood. Her hands didn't even tremble as she waved him toward the 
waiting water.

"Come, Major," she said softly, "I'll wash your back."

Skinner stepped into the water, easing his large body down into its 
warmth. He had to admit it felt nice. When Madame kneeled on the 
floor beside him taking up a wash cloth in her hands, he smiled as he 
looked at her. 

"Tell me your name," he said softly. She looked away and started to 
wash his chest. Light strokes over his muscles that made him want to 
pull her hand lower.

"Why don't you call me, Lilly?" 

"Mmm yes, like that. Lilly is a lovely name. But you're more of a 
Lil," he declared, resting his head back and letting her hands play 
over his body. She was good at this, very good. She had soaped her 
fingers and was using them to stroke circles on his chest and down 
his abdomen. Her hands were still slightly rough, but the contact was 
thrilling. He knew he should be asking her questions. He should be 
making veiled attempts to pull information from her about this house 
and the Union officers they entertained. But her hands felt so good 
and it had been so long that he decided to just enjoy it for now. Let 
her play his body the same way she had played the old spinet piano. 

The heady scent of spicy French milled soap filled the air.  No cheap 
ashes and hog renderings here. He forgot his earlier worry that she 
wasn't as knowledgeable in the ways of men as he had first believed. 
She was proving him wrong. Her hands slipped down to his groin, one 
gently brushing the very tip of his sex, teasing him, the other 
massaging his balls.  She knew her way around a man's body, he 
thought with a deep groan.

She let go of him and quietly asked him to sit forward. Lifting out 
of the tub he grabbed the sides and presented his back for scrubbing. 

"Harder." He moaned as her soapy fingers kneaded the muscles of his 
back. "Harder." He ordered again, until she was digging into his 
tense flesh and making the tight knots melt away.  A low groan 
indicated his satisfaction with the proceedings.

Madame stopped abruptly and rose to move away from the tub.  Skinner 
quickly reached out, caught her arm and pulled her on top of him.  
There was a sloppy splash of warm soapy water over the sides of the 
tub as she landed heavily on his chest. Wet satin and lace drooped 
everywhere. And the feather mask was instantly dotted with soap 
bubbles. The lady was clearly furious, and began to pound on his 
chest.

"Let me up this instant, you overgrown damn Yankee blue belly!" she 
shrieked. "I'm soaking my best dress." 

"I'll buy you a new one," he husked, pulling her closer until her 
face was mere inches from his. Her wide brown eyes looked into his 
chocolate ones and shone in the candlelight. Now, he thought as he 
slid his wet hand behind her head, his fingers entwined in her hair. 
His lips brushed hers and the feminine cursing abruptly stopped. Her 
mouth was soft and warm and his mind gravitated to other things that 
mouth could do. He kissed her again, harder this time, his tongue 
demanding entrance. Slowly, she yielded to him, softening in his 
arms, and shivering as his mouth and teeth trailed kisses and little 
nips and bites down her neck. 

He gently rubbed the erect nipple through the wet satin bodice.  
Startled, Madame tried to arch away from his touch, but he caught her 
ear lobe and nipped gently, mouthing the heavy gold earring.  
Suddenly, he released her, standing and causally reached for the 
large Turkish towel.

Bewildered eyes stared out at him from the mask as soapy water 
dripped off the ruined ball gown unnoticed.  "Why did you stop?" she 
demanded softly.

"I like the sight of wet satin covering a woman's curves, but now I 
want to feel what you've got under there."  Skinner watched her hands 
flutter nervously while he dried himself. 

Her actions calmed in seconds and she simply nodded her head and said 
in a dignified voice, "Very well." 

Reaching around to the small buttons at the back of her bodice, he 
watched as a look of distress came over her face. She bit her full 
lower lip and tried to undo them.

Despite her struggle, Lilly's movements were graceful and his already 
aroused body became hotter. There was just something about this woman 
that made him pant with anticipation. He tossed the towel away and 
abruptly took her by the hips to turn her away from him. 

"I know I've got you for the full night, Lil, but I don't want to 
spend half of it watching you struggle with this ridiculous dress." 
He could feel a shiver pass through her body at his soft words and 
that pleased him. 

The small buttons easily opened under his fingers and he pressed his 
lips against her pale neck, flicking his tongue out to taste her. Her 
soft moans inflamed him. All his earlier misgivings fled. She was 
exactly what he needed and prostitute or not, he was going to make it 
amazing for both of them.

Lilly felt herself pressing back into his hard, moist body and she 
let out a deep sigh. She wanted this. God, how she wanted this. His 
hands pushed at her gown and she felt the cool air of the room hit 
her warm flesh. The gown would be ruined, but right now she didn't 
care, she just wanted it off. His arms came around her and pulled her 
tightly to him just as the red ball gown fell to the floor with a 
damp rustle.   

His hand trailed over her breasts now on the verge of falling out of 
her chemise. And she was glad for their fullness and that as madam of 
a house of prostitution, she had long ago given up wearing corsets. 
The constrictive garment was the bane of every civilized female from 
adolescence to old age. His large hand felt hot when he slipped in 
into the front of her chemise and cupped her breast. She could feel 
her nipple pebbling in response. His other hand making short work of 
her horsehair crinoline and hoop and the both fell to the floor in a 
damp heap. 

"Mmm Lil, take down your hair," he groaned into her neck. She pulled 
at the combs that held her hair up and let them slip from her fingers 
onto the floor. His hand weaved through the heavy strands and he 
shook them loose gently, running his fingers through her silky 
tresses. He pressed his face into the dark hair that now fell down 
her back.

"You smell so good, so clean," he murmured. "Do you know how long 
it's been for me? Do you know how long I've been wanting someone like 
you?" 

She pressed herself back against him and didn't reply. He didn't seem 
to want a reply and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from 
asking him the very same questions. His hands were tormenting her 
breasts, finding her hard nipples and gently plucking them until she 
gasped - only to let them go and stroke them softly - soothing the 
delicious hurt.   
 
She moaned when his hands slipped away. His body pulled back, taking 
his heat and leaving her moist skin exposed to the chill of the 
room.  She turned and watched Skinner walk to the bed. His body so 
large and powerful she couldn't take her eyes off it. The only other 
man she had seen this way had been soft and pale. A caricature of a 
man compared to Skinner's muscled glory. She licked her lips and 
slowly walked to the bed, her hands itching to touch all his hard 
angles. He lay down on the bed and propped himself against pile of 
pillows in front of the headboard. The look on his face so stern and 
focused on her that she felt a rush of wetness between her legs. She 
wanted to harness all that sexual energy and let it explode inside 
her. His cock stood proud and huge between his legs and she watched 
as it grew even larger as she walked slowly over to him.  

She kept her eyes fixed on it to see if it could possibly grow any 
bigger and lifted one leg up on to the bed to untie her garter and 
pull off her stocking. His cock twitched when she flung the scrap of 
silk away and repeated the process with her other leg. She pulled 
down her pantalets and looked him straight in the eye while she toyed 
with the hem of her damp chemise. She inched it up, shivering at the 
heat she saw in his gaze. The chemise rode up and her vision was 
blocked for a moment while the soft garment went over her head and 
was flung away. 

She stood there for a moment and let him see her. Never in her life 
had she been so brazen. She could feel her skin flushing but would 
never try to cover herself. Not now, not for him. His eyes swept over 
her and she could almost feel their intensity burning her flesh. His 
eyes moved up to her and her thighs grew wet at his soft command. 

 "Come here Lil, play time is over." 

End of Chapter 3

TITLE: The Flower Garden  4/?
BY: SEEKERONE And LEELEE
RATING: NC-17. As with all our stories, the whole series will 
certainly steam up the monitor. Lots of steamy sex, a spanking or 
two, a whorehouse and so on. If you're under 18, shoo on away, right 
now! You will be carded. I don't want to hear from you and I don't 
want to hear from your Momma. 
CATEGORY: Skinner/O.F., Mulder/Scully (Well. . . Sort of.). 
Historical AU
SETTING: Our own little examination of the War Between the States, 
sometimes known to the United Daughters of the Confederacy as "The 
Late Unpleasantness."
ARCHIVE:  Probably. Just ask.
COMMENTS:  Here are the redeeming historical tidbits in this chapter 
for those so inclined -  Uh. . . well . . . May be in the next 
chapter.
As always, deepest thanks to our divine beta.  Sylvie, you are the 
best!
SUMMARY:  Lil decides to attack the Yankee stronghold and see who 
surrenders first.
SPOILERS: Don't think the surfer dude ever EVEN thought about this.
DISCLAIMERS: Skinner, Spender, Fox, Scully, Pendrell and the Russian 
are all you know whose. The rest are all ours, with some genuine 
historical characters who decided to visit, such as most of the 
military officers on both sides. The majority of the battles, manners 
and other events are actual history as well. 
FEEDBACK: Worshipped, adored, read and reread again and again. Drop 
us a note and let us know what you think about this chapter or the 
whole series: clueseek@swbell.net  or Viceyy@aol.com    
And, until we get our long delayed web site up, if you'd like to have 
new chapters of whatever story we're working on sent directly to you, 
subscribe to our broadcast list -- The Southern Ladies Smut Writers 
Association. Just send an e-mail to: 
slswa-subscribe@yahoogroups.com  


Chapter 4

"Come here Lil, play time is over." 

Lilly walked to the big feather bed where Major Skinner lay waiting. 
The image there reminded her of that forbidden book she'd read as a 
girl. One she kept hidden under her mattress and had prayed her 
mother or the house servants would never find. A story of a Sultan, 
who waited, stretched out on silken pillows for his young slave girl 
to service him, his large, muscular body tanned from the desert sun. 

Lilly shivered at the forbidden memory as she pretended to adjust her 
feather mask one last time. She was the slave girl in this reality. 
Bought and paid for in Yankee gold. But that fact didn't lessen her 
excitement. Looking now at Skinner who lay back with his thick cock 
jutting up between his legs, she felt as though her soul was thawing. 
She was coming awake after years of being frozen - frozen from 
enforced propriety - frozen from behaving like a proper Southern 
lady - frozen from acting the role of the obedient wife. A part of 
her knew that she should have done this long ago. But it had never 
felt so right before.

There was just something about this ornery man. Something powerful 
and dangerous, but at the same time she knew she would be safe in his 
arms, even if he was her country's enemy. 

She tossed her dark hair back over her shoulder and climbed up on the 
high feather bed. On hands and knees she crawled up to him, the worn 
cotton sheets caressing her palms. Her breasts felt heavy as they 
moved back and forth, the sensation wanton and erotic. Skinner smiled 
at her, a look in his velvet brown eyes that was equally warm and 
lascivious. 

Please don't let me down, Skinner, she thought. She needed this. 
Needed him to help her find what her marriage had destroyed… her 
sexuality, her sense of herself as a woman.  She paused gently 
tracing the red healing scar on his thigh with an inquisitive finger, 
prolonging the moment.

"Get up here, Lil," he ordered brusquely, his voice a hoarse whisper 
in the quiet room.

She crawled up his body until she was straddling his thighs, gasping 
at the sensation of his cock brushing her damp sex. Skinner's warm 
hands cupped her full breasts, pulling her gently until she was lying 
on top of him. His body felt so hard and large under her. She had 
never lain on top of a man like this, but she knew instinctively what 
she would do when he was ready. Impale herself and ride him like a 
cavalry horse.

She wanted to tease him first. Make him as crazy as he was making 
her. Make this stubborn Yankee lose his control. She stroked herself 
against his straining cock, rubbing her pussy up and down his pole, 
coating it with her wetness. A low moan rumbled from his throat and 
she felt a thrill of power at drawing it out of him. She was doing 
this to him. The rest of her life might be chaotic, but here and now, 
she was in charge.

Skinner's hand left her breast and pulled her face down to meet his 
lips. His mouth covered hers and she arched her back to press her 
breasts into the coarse hair of his chest. She was a cat in heat, she 
thought, parting her lips and letting his tongue slip inside. It 
teased hers, darting in and out, slipping wetly inside her and making 
her squirm.

She pulled away to catch her breath and he said softly, "You're not 
ready yet. Are you, Lil?" 

She wanted to disagree, but like Black Sally always said, curiosity 
was her besetting sin.  She felt swollen and ripe for him, but she 
wanted to see where this dangerous Yankee would lead her. 

He turned and lay her next to him, lifting his body until he was 
resting beside her, looking down at her face. His callused hands 
traveled slowly over her body, caressing her skin, making her press 
her body up into his touch. She sighed when his fingers slipped 
between her legs, sliding into her dampness and parting her. One 
finger glided inside her and she moaned.  He watched her intently 
while he worked her with his finger, maddeningly slow in his 
gentleness. 

"I want to make you wet for me Lil," he whispered. "I want you to 
beg." 

Damn him, she thought. I'll never beg the likes of him.  But even as 
the resolve formed, she could feel herself unraveling from his touch. 
Each stroke of his long fingers drawing her juices out to coat her 
pussy. 

His head dipped down and captured her tender nipple - abrading it 
with the rough flat of his tongue. Drawing it into his mouth, he 
nipped it hard enough that she gasped causing her hips to jerk up and 
forcing his fingers to stab deeper into her body. She cried out and 
clutched his hard shoulders, her hands gripping his moist flesh. 
Skinner chuckled against her breasts.

"You damn beast," she said faintly.

"Sweetheart, I'm just getting started attacking this rebel 
fortification," he replied with a growl. 

Her heart began to slam into her ribs. His mouth left her breast and 
he moved slowly down her body. Nipping and kissing her stomach on the 
way down while his hands slid down to her thighs. His wet finger 
pushed them apart. 

"Open for me, Lil." he whispered hoarsely. 

She spread her legs a bit, unsure of what he was going to do. He was 
too low on her body to mount her in the way she was used to. 

"I said open your legs, girl!" 

The command in his voice made her limbs shake as she spread them wide 
enough to allow him to settle his body between them. His face was 
above her sex and he looked up into her eyes. The devilish glint she 
saw there made her own eyes open wide in surprise. 

Skinner laughed darkly. "Don't be so shocked, Lil. I have as much 
experience as you in the ways of love." 

Oh, dear lord, if he only knew, she thought. 

He slipped his hands under her ass and lifted her a bit. Recognition 
of what he was doing hit her just as his head descended and covered 
her pussy. His tongue flicking out to touch her swollen clit caused 
an electrical shock to course through her body.

Ahh, this! She had heard of this from a few of her 'flowers.' They 
had told her the joy that could be found with a man's skillful 
tongue. But her husband had never gifted her with this particular 
pleasure. Perhaps he didn't know, but she had always felt that he 
just didn't care.  Skinner obviously did. It seemed that he wanted to 
please her as much as she wanted to please him.

She was crying out in seconds. He ran his tongue back and forth over 
her pleasure spot - stopping to press it deep inside her - using it 
like it was his cock. She grappled for his shoulders and clung to him 
tight. 

He teased her with his tongue. Stroking her clit slowly and then when 
she started to relax from his intimate caress, flicking it harshly 
until she was crying out and clutching his head. 

Never had she felt anything like this. Never had she dreamed that 
something so lewd could make her so excited. She felt a tingle at the 
base of her spine; a warmth that built until she felt her body tense, 
about to explode. Skinner seemed to sense it coming and pulled back 
to blow gently over her swollen pussy.

"No!" she cried out. 

Skinner just chuckled against her. The vibration making her body 
spasm, aching for relief. He held her thighs tightly, pinning her to 
the bed. Just as she felt the excitement dulling, he began to torment 
her again. Slipping his fingers inside and stroking deep, Lilly 
thrashed around from the extreme pleasure. He held her firmly and she 
felt trapped, completely at his mercy. Her excitement was climbing 
again and she whimpered in frustration when he pulled back to blow 
across her burning pussy again. 

"Not yet, sweetheart. I'll give you release but only when I'm buried 
deep inside you." 

He let go of her legs and kissed his way up her body, tweaking her 
nipples as he moved up further. He let his body rub against hers as 
he worked his way up to her mouth. His kiss was deep and wet and she 
tasted herself there arching her body up to increase the pressure of 
her tender nipples against his chest.

He lifted above her, looked into her eyes and smiled at what he saw. 
She could feel the flush that was covering her face. 

"Just a minute more, Lil. I'll let you find your pleasure, but only 
when I can feel you around my cock," Skinner rolled over onto his 
back. 

He was going to let her do it! She didn't realize how excited she had 
been at the thought of riding him. She reached for him. Covering her 
body with his, she was about to take his cock in her hand when he 
stopped her with a hand on her arm. 

"Lil, aren't you forgetting something?"

Lilly shut her eyes and tried to will away her embarrassed flush. 
The 'Madame' had forgotten one of her primary rules. She really 
didn't want him to see how excited she had become. 

"Why.  Uh.  No. .Of course not, Major," she said in her firmest 
voice. 

Reaching to the bedside table she pulled the French protection out of 
the drawer. With shaking fingers she handed it to him and looked away 
while he put it in place. 

"Damn nuisance," she heard him mutter. But then both his hands were 
on her and she was once again positioned straddling his body. She 
looked down at his face while she was poised and ready to take him 
in. She liked what she saw there. He looked tense, determined and a 
little fierce, but his hands were gentle.

She slid down onto his cock slowly, gasping at the stretch and burn 
of his hard length invading her. Skinner's head was thrown back and 
his eyes were squeezed shut. 

"Tight, Lil you're so tight," he moaned as he filled her. 

She rested down on him, taking him fully inside her. She could feel 
his balls pressed tight under her ass. 

Skinner opened his eyes and looked at her, letting the heat of his 
gaze travel from her face down to where they were joined. She 
followed his gaze and was mesmerized by the sight of his root buried 
completely inside her. He jerked his hips up suddenly. The tip of his 
cock hit her cervix painfully. 

She gasped and bit her lip, looking accusingly into Skinner's eyes.

"Like that?" he growled. 

She lifted her hips to ease the pressure, heaven help her, she did 
like it.  Lilly bit her lower lip again, to keep from crying out.  
All right Yankee, she thought.  Let's see how much you can take.  She 
slammed her hips back down on him again and again.  The old bed frame 
creaked in protest.

"Lil" he said in a warning tone and gripped her hips. His hands 
slowed her pace and controlled her movements. 

She knew she should feel frustrated by this, but Skinner's firm 
movements, pounding up into her so deeply, felt amazing. She ran her 
fingers over his chest, scraping his hard, flat nipples with her 
fingernails. His sharp intake of breath was accompanied by a 
particularly harsh thrust and she felt the tingle of something begin 
in her spine again. She was so near. Skinner was pushing her and she 
wanted to die it felt so good.  

He knew she was close to the edge. Her frantic movements and soft 
moans were driving him there as well. She was incredible. The look of 
shock and surprise on her face made him wonder again just how 
experienced she was. But then she was exploding around his cock. The 
French rubber shielding him from her wetness, but the tight clamping 
of her pussy nearly pushed him over the edge. Her juices flowed out 
of her wetting his thigh and making him once again curse the need for 
protection.

Her body boneless on top of him, he gripped her hips firmly and 
thrust hard into her, giving himself the release he could no longer 
hold back. His last act of sanity was pulling her down on top of his 
chest and holding her tight while his body was wracked with spasms.

Dear sweet lord, was this what it was supposed to feel like? Lilly 
wondered.  She slowly lifted up on one arm and opened her eyes to 
stare down at the man who had brought her such pleasure.

Skinner reached up and pulled her back down to him until her head 
rested on his shoulder.  The ridiculous feather mask tickled his neck.

"Well, it's been a long time for you. Hasn't it, little rebel?" he 
whispered.

"Hmm," she responded contentedly.  She'd never felt like this before, 
but he didn't have to know that.  He finally softened enough to slip 
out of her, and she moaned in mingled relief and disappointment. He 
gently pushed her body down beside him and pulled the stiff rubber 
off to toss aside. 

"Curious," he added. "Why do I get the feeling that you don't 
entertain much?" 

Despite the contented lethargy that had taken over her limbs, she 
felt her hackles rise. She lifted up on one elbow and glared down at 
him. "If you don't feel that you got your money's worth, perhaps we 
should call it a night right now!" she ground out. 

How many times had she told her girls to protect themselves from 
letting the Yankees get too deep into their heads? And here he was 
asking her a very personal question like this. Never mind that his 
observations were true. He was a damn Yankee and she was a 
businesswoman. Why, if she could just be sure that her legs would 
respond, she'd storm right out of this bed!

Major Skinner had the nerve to laugh.  

"Alright Lil," he said and pulled her down to lay beside him 
again. "Calm down now." 

He kissed her hard and she felt herself opening to him. His kisses 
had a way of clearing her mind of thought and her sharp reaction to 
his words seemed suddenly silly. 

"I definitely feel I got my money's worth," he murmured against her 
mouth. 

Sliding his large frame down her body, he began to torment her 
breasts again, biting gently and then soothing them with his tongue. 
She squirmed underneath him. This was so unfair of him. Any minute, 
she knew that he would roll over and fall asleep just like her 
husband always did. Her body went still and she began to shiver when 
he growled in her ear, 

"Get another one of your French things, sweetheart? You're going to 
have to take it again."


The Kitchen Quarters behind the Courtyard

Only a soft glow from the fireplace lit the empty kitchen. The man 
slipped inside and quietly pulled one of the straight-backed chairs 
out to rest his tall, lean frame. He sat and waited until he heard 
the familiar shuffle of old feet coming across the worn brick 
courtyard. The footsteps paused at the kitchen door making the tall 
man smile. A cold hard smile that never reached his green eyes. It 
melted away when old Payne slowly entered the kitchen building. The 
tall man had no intention of running Payne off. Not yet anyway. But 
the power he held over Payne, felt good.

"Where's Lilly?" His voice was cold and imperious.

"Well, uh, Mr. Crieghton suh..." Payne mumbled and shuffled his feet. 
He nervously looked around the room. Always trying to avoid 
Crieghton's hard eyes. 

He wanted to laugh. The old coot was superstitious just like any ex-
slave. Payne thought he was evil incarnate and Crieghton vowed to do 
noting to ever change his mind. After all, maybe he was.

He pounded his hook on the table just to see if the old man would 
piss his pants. He liked to remind the man of his missing limb. For 
some reason it spooked him.

"Tell me!" he growled.

"Miz Lilly is entertaining a gentlemun suh." Payne said quickly, his 
eyes round as dinner plates and fixed firmly on the floor.

Crieghton thought this over. It was unusual. After all this time, 
she'd finally sold herself to an officer. He'd have much rather she'd 
sold herself to him. But no matter, he thought. She could fornicate 
with whomever she wanted. Her soul belonged to him and he had found 
that a soul was much more valuable than just mere sex.

He looked at the old black man who stood shaking in front of him. He 
could think of many other ways to torment him if he had time. But he 
didn't. There was too much work to do.       

"Tell Lilly to meet me at the docks at noon," Crieghton said as he 
rose and walked to the door. 

"Oh, and Payne," he added as an after thought. "If she's late, I'll 
visit that old voodoo witch down on Canal Street and have her put a 
hex on you."

He laughed at Payne's panicked look and walked out the door.

End of Chapter 4


TITLE: The Flower Garden  5/?
BY: SEEKERONE And LEELEE
RATING: NC-17. Like with all our stories, the whole series will 
certainly steam up the monitor. Lots of steamy sex, a spanking or 
two, a whorehouse and so on. If you're under 18, shoo on away, right 
now! You will be carded. I don't want to hear from you and I don't 
want to hear from your Momma. 
CATEGORY: Skinner/O.F., Mulder/Scully (Well. . . Sort of.). 
Historical AU
SETTING: Our own little examination of the War Between the States, 
sometimes known to the United Daughters of the Confederacy as "The 
Late Unpleasantness."
ARCHIVE:  Probably. Just ask.
COMMENTS:  Here are the redeeming historical tidbits for those so 
inclined –  Uh. . . well the clothing is historically accurate.  Some 
of the whorehouses in New Orleans Storeyville in the 1880's did give 
their customers a little lagniappe, such as a flower for their 
lapel.  It was a polite way to indicate to the other working girls 
that the man had been, uh . . .  shall we say "taken"  at least 
financially.  Other than that, sorry.  This chapter is mostly smut.
As always, deepest thanks to our divine beta.  Sylvie, you are the 
best!
SUMMARY:  The morning after
SPOILERS: Don't think the surfer dude ever EVEN thought about this.
DISCLAIMERS: Skinner, Spender, Fox, Scully, Pendrell and the Rat are 
all you know whose. The rest are all ours, with some genuine 
historical characters who decided to visit, such as most of the 
military officers on both sides. The majority of the battles, manners 
and other events are actual history as well. 
FEEDBACK: Worshipped, adored, read and reread again and again. Drop 
us a note and let us know what you think about this chapter or the 
whole series: clueseek@swbell.net or Viceyy@aol.com   
And, until we get our long delayed web site up, if you'd like to have 
new chapters of whatever story we're working on sent directly to you, 
subscribe to our broadcast list -- The Southern Ladies Smut Writers 
Association. Just send an e-mail to: 
slswa-subscribe@yahoogroups.com 


Upstairs Bedroom at the Flower Garden
Lilly slipped quietly out of the room, so as not to awaken Major 
Skinner. Pausing in the doorway, she took one last look at the man 
sleeping in the big four-poster bed, the soft quilts barely covering 
his muscular butt.  His skin was a rich cream in the light from the 
old lamp. There was nothing she would have liked better than to crawl 
back into bed with the man and rediscover all the pleasures of the 
past night.  It hadn't mattered that he was The South's enemy. She 
sighed to herself in mingled regret and pleasure.

Pulling her water-stained dress closed over her bare breasts, she 
made her way down to the kitchen quarters where a few of her girls 
had already gathered. They were in various stages of dress. Some, as 
usual, were too tired to put on more than a dressing robe. Feathered 
masks lay discarded on the table as the girls chatted and lifted pots 
to see what was for breakfast. They would sit there and eat breakfast 
while Payne emptied the rooms and his two young daughters freshened 
the linens. It might be the only meal the women had that day.

As more of her 'flowers' entered the kitchen, she sat as far away 
from them as she could and silently sipped her bitter coffee. At 
least that was one benefit of dealing with the Yankees, she thought 
grimly, they could get decent coffee some of the time.

The girls were unusually quiet this morning. Perhaps they were taking 
their cue from her. Her usual routine of gossiping and laughing with 
them about the Yankee's sexual peccadilloes just seemed like too much 
work for her this morning.  She could see that they were all curious 
as to how her night went, but she vowed not to say anything.  The 
madam had 'entertained' for the first time in her life and her girls 
wanted to know why. 

She tossed the mask down on the old worn kitchen table and idly 
stroked the crumpled feathers with her finger.  For many reasons, she 
just couldn't talk about it.  How could she explain why she had felt 
so compelled to accept the outrageous offer? She could never tell 
them about the rush of excitement that had taken over when the Major 
had taken her hand, the way her body responded when she looked in his 
dark brown eyes.

They'd never understand. To them, U.S.A. Major Walter Skinner was 
just another faceless man - one of many that they had to cater to. 
One of many Yankee officers they spread their legs for and ignored 
the pain in their hearts while they did. Lilly knew their thinking 
and would never challenge it. She knew it was rare for them to find 
any real satisfaction with the men that came to her house. How could 
they? All were gently bred ladies and in these cruel times, were now 
forced into prostitution with the enemy in order to care for their 
families and themselves. 

To them, she was the strong woman who cared if they ate or if their 
children were dressed in rags.  It mattered to her if their house had 
been burned to the ground and family treasures looted.  Madame 
provided them with a safe place to sell their wares and didn't blame 
them for what they had to do to survive. 

Unknown to the Major when he was ordering Payne out of the room last 
night was the fact that the butler was not her only protection. His 
two sons, Big Samuel and Malachi, were always close by, utterly loyal 
to her and large enough to subdue any threat. They had spent two 
years fighting for the Yankees before realizing that they would never 
be treated as anything but cannon fodder by the northern troops. 
Returning to her soon-to-be-destroyed plantation, they had asked to 
work alongside their father and sisters. Her late husband would have 
been livid and ordered them whipped within an inch of their lives as 
runaways.  But he was dead, and she had let them come back. Years of 
being tied to a man who treated her no better than the furniture in 
his house as well as a lifetime of watching him abuse his slaves had 
made it easy for her to empathize with their plight.  

Maybe that was why she had allowed herself to be bought by the Major 
last night. She felt as enslaved as the blacks her family once called 
possessions. Her secret life was not so unknown as she would have 
liked. No one received her anymore, despite her attempts to ease 
their suffering with the medicines she stole. She was cast out, just 
as these sad southern belles who surrounded her in the kitchen. 
Trapped by her circumstances, but still trying desperately to care 
for all those around her. 

She had desperately needed a gentle touch - desperately wanted a 
connection - any connection - to another human being.  Just for a 
little while, she wanted to forget about this cruel war, the pain and 
the desperate grim life of trying to take care of everyone around 
her. Just for once, she wanted to be comforted and taken care of, and 
somehow she knew Major Skinner would do that.

She could never tell the girls that, anymore than she could tell them 
that she had loved every moment of her liaison. The Major was an 
amazing lover. After years of hiding her sensual nature from her 
disapproving husband and proper New Orleans society, she had finally 
let it free. Spread herself all over this new and mysterious man and 
reveled in his powerful responses. Her body shivered at the memory. 

"Miss Lilly, are you alright?"

Lilly started at the soft words. Daisy, a sweet-tempered blonde who 
had escaped with her elderly mother from Richmond, looked down at her 
with a worried frown clouding her pretty features. Lilly reached up 
and touched Daisy's arm gently and gave her a reassuring smile. 

"Of course dear. I'm just tired." 

Daisy took this as an invitation and sat down in the chair next to 
her. Lilly knew she wanted to ask about the Major so she quickly 
asked, "How was your night?" All Lilly's girls knew what this meant 
and Daisy told the Madam her news all the while looking worriedly 
into Lilly's face.

"My night went well. Captain Walker talked only about what General 
Sherman was doing trying to take Atlanta. He's probably going to be 
reassigned there." 

Lilly nodded and felt herself withdrawing from the conversation. 
Creighton wouldn't be interested in what the girl had learned. He had 
given her very specific guidelines about what was important and she 
didn't dare deviate from them. Getting him angry was never a good 
thing. The man had a mean streak in him a mile long and she would 
never deliberately try to incite him. 

Sighing, she ignored Daisy's continued worried look and glanced 
around at her girls. As much as she would rather sit and go over 
every second of her time with Skinner, she knew she had to get to 
work. Creighton expected information and she depended on his goodwill 
to get the critical contraband medicines she needed. But oh how she 
wished she could just take one morning off. Just forget about the 
people who depended on her and slip back into bed with that man 
upstairs across the brick courtyard.  Surely, she could find some 
unusual way of waking him. 

But her duty was clear.  And it was her rule that a girl could not 
stay with the gentleman through the night.  Looking around the 
kitchen, she shook her head to realize that someone else had bent the 
rule last night. Having Lt. Mulder in the house meant that one of her 
girls would always challenge that. Dandelion was always sure to break 
the regulations when she had Mulder in her bed. He was becoming more 
than just her favorite and she was afraid for the sweet girl.   God 
knows, she'd enough pain in her life without breaking her heart over 
a damn bluebelly.


Dandelion's Bedroom

Lt. Mulder lifted up on one elbow and righted his lady's mask. He had 
tried to peek under it many times, only to have her laugh and slap at 
his hands. And although he wanted to see her lovely face still 
peaceful in sleep, he didn't want to invade her privacy again. At 
least not while she was like this, so soft and unguarded in her 
slumber. He'd been coming to Dandelion for months. Once he had been 
with her that first time, he had sought no other. Everything about 
her was perfect to him. Her slim body and full breasts fit his tall 
frame like she was made for him. He was addicted to her passion and 
sweetness. The way she touched him, the way she responded when he 
touched her. He had suspected that her responses were real for a long 
time now. How can a woman fake that? He was sure others had, 
including his haughty fiancée Diana. 

Lovemaking with Diana had started to feel like a chore before he 
left. She always seemed so eager to steal away with him for a few 
private moments. But once alone, she would lie still as the dead, as 
if to 'allow' him to do his worst, hopefully, as quickly, and with as 
little trouble to her, as possible. Her practiced clenchings and 
gaspings as he reached his peak had rung so false. Perhaps, that was 
why he was so taken with the lady sleeping peacefully in his arms. 
She wanted all of his caresses and gave so many of her own. 

Mulder shook off his warm feelings. He knew others took his place 
when he was too busy to call on Dandy. He had tried to ask her once 
about this life she had chosen and would forever be haunted by the 
sadness in her eyes. 

"Even rebels have to eat, Lieutenant." She had said in a quiet, dead 
voice and he had never asked her again. His offer to set her up as 
his mistress had been brushed off. 

"I will not be beholding to anyone again, Mulder.  Just come and see 
me as often as you can." 

He vowed once again to try and convince her to take him up on his 
offer.

"Good Morning Glory," he whispered into her neck still sleep-warm and 
velvety under his lips.

"Morning Glory spent the evening with Lt. Pendrell or didn't you 
notice?" she said without opening her eyes. So his lady was awake!

"Should I go and fetch her?" she said as a sleepy smile bowed her 
lips.

"No, I am perfectly happy with a prickly Dandelion in my bed." Mulder 
rolled over on top of her so quickly she gasped. He buried himself in 
her neck and nibbled the skin he found there. Once she realized the 
time, he knew she would try and get away. His morning erection was so 
painfully hard he had to stop her flight at all costs.

"Morning? Oh, fire and brimstone. Mulder let me up," she said as 
expected. She pushed at his shoulders but then giggled when his hips 
worked her legs apart and his cock slipped closer to her sex.

"You ALWAYS do this to me." She said with an exaggerated 
sigh. "Madame will be distressed. I promised her I wouldn't do this 
again. I SWORE to her Mulder. Now let me up, you wicked rascal." 

"Umm, no," and he moved down her body until his mouth closed over one 
coral tipped nipple. Letting her oversleep and then talking her out 
of leaving was his favorite part of his nights with her. Well, one of 
his favorite parts. He reached down with one hand and stroked her 
pussy with his fingers. She was wet and getting wetter by the moment. 
She half-heartedly pushed at his chest and squirmed underneath him. 

"Stop, Mulder. Please. Madame will be incensed with me again. I have 
to.. oh!" He stopped her protests by sliding one slim finger deep 
inside her. 

A moan sounded deep in her throat and he smiled around the nipple. 
She always started with a litany of noises. Gasps and groans while he 
worked her with his fingers, stroking in and out of her wetness. 
Flicking his nail over her swelling clit - petting her softly while 
she spread her legs open further and gasping, asked for more. He had 
only taken her once the night before and he felt starved. Lying close 
to her, he had fought with his urge to fuck her senseless and his 
constant need to tell her every thought that entered into his head. 
She seemed so happy with both.

When he took his cock in his hand and started to stroke it over her 
dripping pussy, she started to pant and arch up to him. How could 
this response be faked? He asked himself again. She was always so 
ready, so ripe. Was she like this with everyone? Or was this blessing 
strictly his own? He ran the tip of his cock up and down and felt so 
close to exploding from the sensation that he jerked away.

 She lay there below him, licking her lips and mumbling, "Hurry, 
Mulder. Hurry." 

He fumbled with the French protection that they'd laid on the bedside 
table. Even in their wildest passion, he never forgot. Not after that 
one time that they had gotten so carried away and done it up against 
the wall with nothing but her legs clutched around him and her 
wetness surrounding him. The panic and fear on her face afterward was 
something he never wanted to see again.

He sheathed his cock in the piece of rubber and grabbed her thighs, 
one in each hand. Lifting them over his shoulders, he groaned at the 
sight of her. So caught up in his need to claim her, that he plunged 
his full length in without pause.

"Ahhhh!" she yelled and he felt her tense for moments before she 
loosened and let him impale her.

"God, Mulder," she moaned and he couldn't wait. Her body felt so hot 
he would lose his mind if he had to go slow. 

"What do you want, Dandy?" he ground out. His hips moved forward and 
back, his cock a piston rod, ramming in and out of her like one of 
those new steam engines.

"You," she moaned. "Mulder, Mulder, hard. Just like that." 

He lifted her up to get deeper penetration, loving her cries as he 
drove her on and on. Her breasts bounced with each impact, her 
nipples teasingly just out of his reach. His mouth watered to suckle 
them, but he was incapable of letting go of her thighs. Each thrust 
felt like heaven.  She tensed under him, her head thrown back, 
showing him the pale column of her throat.

"More, more," she cried and he could see the moment that her release 
hit. There could be no faking in this. She fell apart in his arms. 
Grabbing at him and scratching his back. Her juices wetting his 
thighs while he cried out and spilled himself into her. 

His body collapsed on top of her small one and he never wanted to 
leave. His lips found hers and he kissed her softly, once, twice and 
sighing against her mouth. He knew he needed to talk to her, but 
exhaustion hit him like a hammer and he rolled to his side, pulling 
her close and was instantly asleep.

The morning sun peeked through the curtains and slowly passed over 
the rumpled bed. 'Dandy' suddenly jerked up when it shone straight 
into her eyes. Damn, it was late. She'd have to take a talking-to 
from Lilly for this, she was sure. But it had been worth it. Oh how 
it had been worth it! 

Lilly would tell her the same thing she had been saying ever since 
Mulder had come through the front door. "Don't pin your hopes on Fox 
Mulder. He's a Yankee and you are nothin' to him. After this cruel 
war is over, he'll go back up North and leave you behind without a 
second thought." 

This was probably true and Dandy knew that despite Mulder's repeated 
offers of taking her as his mistress, she wasn't much more than just 
his favorite 'flower'. But what Lilly didn't seem to realize was that 
it didn't matter. She wasn't looking for just another man to take 
care of her. Jack had failed her so miserably she would never put 
herself in that position again. 

His death on the killing fields of Gettysburg just three years after 
their marriage, had been the final blow. And it had forced her to 
leave behind the life her parents had wanted for her. If she only had 
to care for herself, things would be different. She'd have genteelly 
starved along with so many of the young widows she saw walking the 
streets of New Orleans, begging for bread. But she wouldn't do that. 
Couldn't do that. She wouldn't watch her child starve along side her. 
And because of this she had to be strong. Take care of her and make a 
life for them. One that didn't depend on men who were only interested 
in making war.

She gently untangled herself from Mulder's arms. When he slept, he 
slept hard and she backed up against the headboard to look down at 
him. She yanked at the stupid mask, pulling it off and enjoyed the 
sheer luxury of watching the sunlight shimmer off his face. He was so 
handsome, sometimes, it took her breath away. She fought off the 
melancholy feeling that washed over her at the sight of him. At 
times, she felt that these few nights with him were the only things 
keeping her sane. 

That first time with him had been a turning point. For three months 
she had left her child to come to Lilly's and do unspeakable things. 
Despite telling herself that she had no other choice, she had lost 
some little piece of her soul each time she had taken another union 
officer to her bed. And then, one day he had walked through the door 
and she had done the unthinkable. 

She laughed in his face and called him an idiot.

She couldn't help it. She had just felt so miserable that night and 
he was rambling on about the union army. Something about a government 
conspiracy in Lincoln's cabinet that sounded so ridiculous she had to 
laugh. But instead of becoming angry as most gentlemen would do - 
instead of ordering her away and asking for a more agreeable 
companion, she had watched a light begin to shine in his eyes. A 
light that she felt was only for her.

So they had argued. Sitting down in the parlor long after everyone 
had gone to their rented beds. They had argued and debated and before 
she knew it, they were tearing each other's clothes off. Right in the 
middle of the parlor. And she had loved it, her body responding like 
it had never done before. 

Dandy paused and pulled a few feathers from her mask.  With a small 
smile, she tucked them under the gold cord on Lt. Mulder's hat, 
adding a small white cockade to the dark blue wool felt.  It was 
something many of the `flowers' did.  The satisfied guest left with a 
smile on his face and as soon as he walked down the street, the other 
establishments knew he'd been taken.

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Mulder's forehead at the 
memory. No, she wouldn't pin her hopes on him. She wouldn't count on 
anyone but herself. But she would allow herself this man and what he 
made her feel.

End of Chapter 5