TITLE:  Sexual Diversity in Chicago
AUTHOR:  haphazard method
SUMMARY: You mean the title's not enough?  Another MSR smutfest,
inspired by Mulder's "Get over here, Scully" in The Unnatural.
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS:  Fleeting mention of Three of a Kind.
DISCLAIMER:  Not mine. No infringement intended, not of CC or of Stu
Phillips, to whom this story also owes much (except the cash I am not
making by writing it).
NOTES:  Thanks to Barbara D., Chey, and Sharon for beta reading,
editing, and much handholding of a nervous smut writer. *Huge*
thanks to Beatrice for making all kinds of great suggestions, most of 
which I appropriated shamelessly. I asked her if she wanted to be a
co-author, but she declined. Shy, I think. <g>

For Chey, who wanted reflexology but isn't going to get it.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sexual Diversity in Chicago
by haphazard method
haphmeth@yahoo.com
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I shift my bag to my other shoulder and look again at my watch.
Second thoughts, maybe? Scully set this evening's agenda, but I'd
still put even money on her backing out. This downtown park by the
lake is nice but I was hoping for some company. Then I look up, and
there she is, walking towards me, smiling. I smile back, not least
because of the way the summer breeze sweeps a few strands of hair
into her face and wraps her loose, short dress around her thighs. I 
have always loved being out on the road, but now more so than ever.

I'm used to the idea that I am probably always under surveillance at
work and even at home. Scully is most emphatically not used to the
idea. The Gunmen do the best they can, sweeping our apartments for
bugs every week, but Scully remains dubious. I think maybe she
suspects Frohike of installing his own devices, although she hasn't
said as much. He wouldn't dare. After that Vegas stunt, the Gunmen
have been on their best behavior, well aware that next time, she
might actually carry through on her threat to maim them, in some secret
untraceable way that only FBI doctors know. I don't disabuse them of
the notion, partly out of self-interest, and partly because they're
right. Still, she can't quite shake the idea that someone is
watching, and while she's not exactly inhibited, she is... muted. 
Out of town, though, is a different story. Once our work is done, that
is.

My already wandering thoughts scatter for good when she kisses me.
This is the Scully I dream about, the relaxed and playful one, the
Scully who isn't an out-and-out exhibitionist but who also doesn't
think the Eleventh Commandment is "Thou shalt not be affectionate in
public." Then she pushes her tongue into my mouth and runs the heel
of her hand up the length of my erection. Oh my. I think I can
safely interpret this to mean she isn't having second thoughts about
tonight. In response, I reach under her skirt, and lightly scratch a
fingernail up the inside of her thigh, making her rise up on her toes
and arch against me with a low moan. Damn. At this rate we'll be
back in the hotel room in minutes. I pull away.

"You're late."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry." She leaves one hand on my chest and
turns slightly to look over her shoulder at the crowd, headed, like
us, to Grant Park to see the Blues Festival. "There must be half a
million people here tonight, Mulder. I even had trouble finding you
once I got here. I bet everyone says 'meet you at Buckingham
Fountain' without considering that everyone else in the city is doing
the same thing."

I glance up. She's right, there are people everywhere, scruffy
sellers pushing shopping carts filled with inflated animal balloons
on sticks and other doodads, older couples carrying coolers and lawn
chairs, pretzel carts and churros vendors, clumps of teenage boys in
baggy clothes laughing and shoving each other, on display for girls
pretending not to watch. The whole city is a little giddy. Must be
the prospect of a warm June night, after an endless, cold, gray
winter. The fountain shoots water 100 feet into the air, the top of
the plume fanning out in the evening breeze. Down, boy.

"I might forgive you," I say. "If you're nice to me."

She looks at me through half-lidded eyes. "Mulder, I'm always nice
to you," she croons, "Unless you ask otherwise."

I wasn't aware you could feel your own pupils dilate, but Scully
teaches me something new every day. "Promises, promises. No fair
trying to distract me, Scully. We were talking about you, and about
being late. What do you suppose I should do about that?"

"I can think of a couple of things." Scully rubs up against me
again, making me regret my earlier decision to wear jeans. I lean
down to kiss her again, running my hands from her ribcage to her
hips, smoothing the soft material over her body. Reaching around to rest
my hands on her ass, I can feel the outline of her underwear. "I thought
I told you not to wear anything under your dress."

She leans back in my arms to look up at me, laughing, keeping her
hips pressed against me. "Mulder, you have to be kidding me. It's breezy
out here by the lake and there are so many people around. I didn't
want to risk it."

"Take them off." I purposely keep a straight face, knowing full well
that if she wants to back out of this little game, I'll agree, no
questions asked.

"What?" Her wide eyes stare up at me. Embarrassment and arousal
chase a blush across her cheeks, twin imps racing hand in hand,
chortling wildly at having left common sense bound and gagged back at
the hotel.

"You heard me. Take them off, or I'll take them off." Scully closes
her eyes and swallows, a small smile on her lips, a nervous smile,
but a smile nonetheless. I start to reach up under her dress.

"Stop. No. I'll do it." Leaning her forehead against my chest,
eyes shut, as if no one can see her if she can't see them, she quickly
yanks off her panties. "Now what?"

"Give them to me." I put them in my pocket, well aware that this
little maneuver has not gone unnoticed by the milling concertgoers
drifting towards the bandshell. What do I care? We're never going
to see these people again. I'm sure they've seen worse. And truth be
told, the risk appeals to me, almost as much a turn-on as seeing her
do something I wouldn't have predicted in a million years. Master
profiler, my ass.

I shake my head slowly. "It's early yet, and already you're not
doing what you're told. You know what that means?"

"Yes." She bites her lower lip, stares at her sandals.

* * *
I think I've died and gone to heaven. I stare at the hotel ceiling
waiting for my breath to slow down, smiling. Some shameless
wheedling and two equally brazen fingers had finally convinced Scully that 
a morning at the Art Institute could only be followed by an afternoon
in the bleachers at a Cubs game. Tomorrow. We still have tonight, and
I'm in the mood to play. I roll onto my side, propping my head on my
hand and tucking my body around Scully as she groans and stretches
her arms towards the headboard and her feet towards the end of the bed.
She wriggles back down under the covers and I rest my hand on her
stomach.

"So, Scully, what do you want to do now?"

"Take a shower."

"No, I mean after that. Want to walk out to the pier, get something
to eat, and pretend to be tourists?"

"Mulder, we can't *pretend* to be tourists," she laughs, "we *are*
tourists. We don't have to be back in D.C. until Monday and I, for
one, intend to forget about anything but having fun until then."

I lean in to kiss behind her ear, using my nose to nudge her hair out
of my way. "Mmm, that sounds promising. What did you have in mind?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mulder," she says, not sounding too
convinced that she wants anything of the sort.

"But you could have a lot of fun down here with me, Scully. C'mon.
If the adventurous Special Agent Dr. Scully came out to play with the
dashing Agent Mulder, what would she want to do?"

She laughs and turns onto her right side, facing away from me. I
curl tighter around her and my right hand creeps towards its usual
position, trailing her stomach to cup her left breast. Humming, she
nestles in some more.

"Scully....."

"Mulder..." she mimics my voice, laughing at me.

"No, seriously." Suddenly, I was dying to know.

"What... I don't know." She buries her head further into the
pillow, instead of giving me the standard impatient Scully look that should
accompany this statement.

I wait her out.

"C'mon, Scully. I know you've thought about it. All you have to do
is ask. I want to know. Really." I circle the soft skin around her
nipple with my fingertip.

"Mmmm... Stop that, Mulder. You don't really want to know, you just
want to tease me."

"No, I don't. I swear, I'm not teasing."

"You are, Mulder, you can't help it. And you're tickling me." She
grabs my hand and cups it backs on her breast. "Knowing you, I'll say
something and you'll either make a joke or you'll ask me a million
questions, and turn this into some kind of therapy session. Either
way, I'll end up feeling foolish. Forget it."

I wish I could see her face. She doesn't sound mad, just amused and
matter of fact. Wheedling already worked once today: Do I dare try
it twice? "Scully, with my video collection, I am in no position to
make anyone else feel foolish. Tell you what, I'll make it easy on you --
I'll guess and you tell me when I'm getting close."

"You'll guess." Distinctly dubious.

"Yes."

"Right. Won't your guesses tell me more about you than the other way
around?" she asks, pleased with her observation.

"Only if I guess wrong," I laugh. "Anyway, that'll make it a two way
street. What do you say?"

"Mulder...," she sighs, and I know I have her. She laughs when I
squeezed her breast. "Okay, fine, I can see I'm not going to be able
to talk you out of this. You guess, and I'll lay here and dream
about a shower."

"See? We're already off to a good start. Just close your eyes and
dream while I think for a minute......" I slowly run my fingers from
her hip up to her neck and lean in to whisper in her ear. "And as I
recall the facts, you seemed to really like blindfolding me that
time. Is that it, Scully?"

I roll her onto her stomach and straddle her legs so I can massage
her neck and shoulders. "Do you fantasize about being in control, about
bending me to your will? Can you picture me, blindfolded, tied to
your bed, naked, waiting for you, not being able to see you, touch
you, taste you, just waiting, straining, begging for you to touch
me?" Speaking of two-way streets...

"Pretty picture, Mulder. Okay, I admit, that was fun."

"Fun? That sounds a little lukewarm, Scully."

"Hardly lukewarm, Mulder. It *was* fun. But it wasn't about
control."

I just look at her. She opens her eyes and twists her chin over her
shoulder to look at me. She flashes a quick grin before letting her
head flop back on the pillow. "Well, mostly it wasn't about control.
I would say the fun part was figuring out exactly what would make you
come so hard, you'd scream and pass out."

Ah. Focus, Mulder. I kiss as much of her mouth as I can from this
angle. "Well, that's not quite what I had planned for tonight. You
haven't answered my question: What would make you scream?"

"What makes anyone scream?" Her eyes were closed again. "Maybe it's
generally, the thrill of wanting something you think you absolutely
shouldn't want."

I lift myself off of her and roll her back into our spoon position,
guessing it would be easier for her to talk without looking at me,
wrapped in the heat of my body. "Scully, I believe that was a
classic example of holding a topic at an analytic remove to distance yourself
from its impact. I don't want to know what you think about fantasies
in general, I want to know what you fantasize about. So, what is it
you shouldn't want, Scully? What can I give you that you can't ask
for?"

"I thought you weren't going to analyze me, Mulder." She lay silent
for a moment. "Besides, I can't ask you for what I fantasize about
because you can't give it to me: I would be happy just being able to
walk hand-in-hand with you on the Mall without worrying that it will
be used against us somehow, or that we were being pasted into some
Consortium family photo album."

Ouch. "Scully..."  My arms tighten around her and I sigh into her
hair as the old guilt washes over me. "I wish I could give that to
you."

"I know, Mulder. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the game by
getting serious. It's just..."  She rolls in my arms and kisses me until I
smile, running her hand through my hair. "I wonder sometimes, you
know. Whether I'll ever have the courage to ignore the fact that we
might be watched. There are times when I want to just throw up my
hands and screw you silly, but--"

"It just takes practice, Scully." And then there's humor as a
distancing mechanism. Choose your weapon.

She cocks an eyebrow at me.

"Yes," I say firmly. "And I would be happy to offer my services,
gallant guy of the 90s that I am."

"Mulder, what *are* you talking about?"

"About releasing your inner exhibitionist." She giggles and I
continue, delighted. "You've said it's easier for you when we're out
of town, and here we are out of town. I saw something about a blues
festival tonight on the lakefront. Just you, me, and three million
Chicagoans in the dark. How about it? Practice makes perfect, you
know."

"Mulder, you're nuts."

"Yes, and you love me anyway." I kiss her on the nose.

"I do, but I could never--. You really are out of your mind." She
leans back to look at me and suddenly I know I'm on the right track.
She's trying hard to hide it, but I am looking equally hard.

"Come on, Scully. You know you want to." It's worth a shot, anyway.
"Trust me, I'll make it worth your while. Remember? It's my turn to
make you scream. All you have to do is behave yourself."

"Behave myself or behave you?"

"Yes."

She is quiet, her breath shallow, and quick. I lie still, fighting
off panic until finally she looks up at me and takes my breath away. I
would give anything right now to have a camera to capture her
expression, the way her blue eyes glow with desire, fear, and a
beautiful hungry playfulness. What have I gotten myself into? I
hope to God I remember how, so I can get into it again.

"Okay, Mulder, you're on."

We lay there quietly for a few minutes, before I kiss her ear and
roll over to the other side of the bed, swinging my feet to the floor. 
She rolls over to face me, still wrapped up in the blankets.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. I'm going to rustle up a picnic dinner. Meet me by Buckingham
Fountain at seven. Don't be late. And, Scully?"

"Yes?"

"Don't wear anything under your dress."

* * *
I watch Scully closely to see what she will do, if she will keep
going. She digs her fingernails into her palms and takes a deep
breath. "Sorry."

"No problem. You're not getting off that easy, though. Enjoy the
concert, but don't forget how this evening is going to end." A
bluff. I think.

I get a small smile, no teeth, and her face still rosy with embarrassment
and arousal. She slides her arm around my waist, tucking her hand
into my back pocket, cushioning me from the bag banging against my
hip. I kiss her and drape my arm across her shoulders as we walk
towards the bandshell in the flow of the crowd. When we are about as
close as we can to the concert area, I pull a small blanket out of my
bag to spread on the grass. We sit side by side, legs stretched out,
munching on the sandwiches I brought and waiting for the music to
start.

All around, people sprawl on blankets, most of them eating and
surreptitiously pouring the contents of paper-bag covered bottles
into plastic cups. Others wander through the maze of blankets, trying not
to step on anyone, and vendors hawk snacks, balloons, and a rainbow
of glow-in-the-dark plastic strings that are pretty popular, judging by
the number of people wrapped up like weird alien tribesmen. I buy a
nice glowing green one for Scully to make her laugh as I wind it
around her wrist. On more than one blanket, couples kiss, their legs
entwined as if half of Chicago weren't swirling around them. Scully
seems particularly entranced by the pair three blankets over,
hypnotized by the gentle rocking of the woman on top.

"See something you like, Scully?" She jumps a little, then speaks
absently, not turning her head.

"No, no. Not really. Ouch!" She massages her thigh where I pinched
her and glares at me, her pupils huge in the fading light.

"You like to watch, Scully?"

"Not really, Mulder. Anyway," she drops her voice, "that's your
department, remember?" She laughs, knowing full well that letting me
watch her is one of my favorite Scully fantasies. And memories.

Trying to turn the tables, Scully? I don't think so. I grin and
reach out to whisper my fingertips across the inside of her wrist.
"So what's your excuse, Scully? Being out in public really does turn
you on, doesn't it?" There's that look again, hunger fueled by
trepidation.

People in the front start standing up and clapping, triggering
everyone behind them to do the same, so I stand, and put out my hand
to help Scully to her feet. She takes it and rather gracefully folds
her legs under her to lift herself up, using my hand for leverage,
thereby managing not to flash the people behind us.

"Mulder, I can't see a thing. What's happening?" She tries standing
on her toes and craning her neck.

I admit, I am more interested in the muscles in the backs of her
legs, but I look out over the crowd. "About what you would expect. The
band is playing. They look pretty old, actually. They don't move
much, other than to play. You aren't exactly missing a floor show."

I reach out and pull her towards me, wrapping my arms around her. 
She responds by crossing her arms in front of her, nudging my fingers
apart to nestle her fingers in mine. We stand like that for a long
time, swaying to the music. I lean in occasionally to kiss her on
the top of her head or on her ear, which makes her hum in a gratifying
way. At times like this, I can almost believe life could be this
simple.

The sun was long gone, taking the crowd's inhibitions with it. Toe
tapping turns to outright dancing around us and we both laugh at a
particularly flamboyant display next to us, neither of us inclined to
dance but happy to be part of the crowd. Then as the first strains
of "Sweet Home Chicago" blared across the park, the crowd really starts
to go wild, hooting and hollering and singing along.

"Oh, I wish I could see. I know they aren't doing anything but I
wish I could see the whole crowd." I look around. Scully isn't the only
short woman here. Here and there, women sit on their boyfriends'
shoulders. Husbands? Partners? I wonder what term Scully would
use. Partner, probably. And me? We aren't married, and girlfriend
just sounds too juvenile. "Light of my life" is probably a little
too much information for casual conversation. Partner it is.

I kneel down. "Hey, partner, climb up on my shoulders."

"Mulder! Are you out of your mind?" I squint at her, puzzled by her
vehement reaction. It's not like others aren't doing the same thing.

"Mulder, I am not wearing any underwear," she hisses through clenched
teeth. "You can't be serious."

Oh, yeah. My cock jerks to attention in my jeans. I forgot about
that. Unbelievable. I fix her with a glare. "Get over here,
Scully. Now."

She strokes my shoulder, trying to figure out a way to convince me to
drop this. "Mulder....."

"Scully..."  She glances around quickly, and with a deep breath,
lifts her leg across my shoulder. I grab both of her feet and stand up,
glad I've been more faithful about going to the gym lately. Not that
she's heavy, but I'm not as young as I used to be. She grabs my hair
to balance herself.

"There. Can you see?"

"Yes. There are thousands of people here, Mulder. Everywhere I
look."

My head rests against her stomach, bobbing with her breathing. I
look around, making her laugh, and lightly slap my head when I rub my cheek
on the inside of her thigh. So soft. I lick the spot I rubbed and
her hands tighten on my hair. What the hell is she doing? I can
feel her lightly squeezing and relaxing her leg muscles around my head,
rubbing herself against my neck, leaving a warm, wet trail on my
skin. My temperature shoots up about four hundred degrees. I close my
eyes, and reach down to arrange myself more comfortably in my jeans. Her
hands tighten on my hair as her rubbing speeds up. My knees can't
take much more of this, never mind the rest of me.

"Scully." I squeeze her ankles sharply and she freezes. "Don't you
dare come on my neck."

The guy in front of me whips his head around, disbelief and hope in
his eyes, as if he can't quite believe what he thinks I said is
really, what I said. You haven't heard anything yet, buddy. I ignore him,
but Scully gasps, as if suddenly aware she was six feet in the air in
an awfully short dress. I drop to one knee, twisting to guide her
down to the ground. Her face is red, at least what I could see of
it, even though she's facing me. She keeps her head down, studying her
fists. I sink to the blanket, pulling her down with me.

"Sit down, Scully." I spread my legs apart and she sits on her knees
between them, still not looking at me. I lean forward to kiss her
gently, trying to reassure her without words. She must need less
reassurance than I thought, for soon the kiss heats up, our tongues
pushing at each other, tangling and darting away. I slide my hands
up her sides and flick my thumbs across her nipples. She moans into my
mouth. "Please, Mulder."

"Please what, Scully?"

"Please, I can't take much more of this. Let's go back to the
hotel."

I seriously considered her proposal. Honest. I would like nothing
more than to bury myself in her up to my spine, but she seems pretty
turned on out here already. "No, the concert isn't over yet. That's
what we came here for, right?"

"Yes, but we saw the concert. Let's go." She wraps her fingers into
the top of my waistband to tug me closer and leans in to run her
tongue along the edge of my ear. Oh God. I swat at her hands and
she sits back quickly, puzzled.

"I said no, Scully." I reach out and grab her wrists, my fingers
tangling with the glowing string, she still has wrapped around one
wrist.

"Turn around." I make a turning motion with my hand. She looks at
me skeptically but turns. "Stay on your knees, though." I scoot up
close so I can whisper in her ear. "Scully, you keep disobeying me,
and I really can't ignore that anymore. You wore underwear when I
especially told you not to, you resisted getting up on my shoulders
and then you almost brought yourself off up there for all the world
to see. Now, the question is, what should I do about it?"

She shifts slightly, pulling her legs apart a little farther. I
reach around her to grasp her wrist, unwinding the plastic string. She is
panting, there is no other word for it.

"Is this exciting, Scully? Are you wondering what I'm going to do?
Hmm? Maybe I won't do anything, maybe I won't even touch you. What
if I just left you like this, Scully? Do you want me to touch you?"

"Oh, God. Here? Um... No, we can't, Mulder."

"Okay. We'll just sit here and listen to the music. In the meantime, 
you can think about what will happen when we get back to the hotel."
I use the tip of the glow-string to trace a line along the neckline
of her dress.

She shivers, "uh, Mulder, maybe... um--"

Encouraged, I repeat the move on the hem of her dress, rubbing the
plastic string against the inside of her thighs.

"Oh, God, Mulder, please." Her eyes flutter shut.

"Please what, Scully? Please stop?" I move the string slowly over
her thigh and she rocks back against me.

"No!" She looks around nervously, but the crowd was too caught up in
the music to hear.

Her eyes close again, and her voice drops to a harsh whisper. "Touch
me, Mulder. Please touch me."

"That's better. See? All you had to do was ask nicely. Now put
your hands behind you." Her eyes open, though she immediately does as
asked. I quickly tie the string around both wrists, pinning her
hands behind her. Her breath speeds up, her whole body tense with
anticipation.

"Now here's the deal, Scully. Don't you dare move. If you move, I
will stop, and I won't wait to get to the hotel, I will put you over
my knee right here, with all these people watching. Do you hear me?"
She moans, low and deep in her throat, and I briefly regret my
decision not to go back to the hotel. "I will, you know. And no one
will stop me. This is a big city, Scully. No one gets involved in
the city. They've seen it all already. Don't move. Do you
understand me?"

She wiggles, and nods. I sneak a peek, not surprised that her eyes
are shut again. I bend my legs up on either side of her to shield us
as much as possible. I don't want to get arrested for lewd behavior,
despite what I said about uninvolved city folk. Her position lifts
her up off the blanket enough for me to reach underneath her dress
from behind. Very slowly and lightly, I trace a finger from her clit
down all the way back between her cheeks. She shivers but doesn't
move. With my other hand, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear so
I can watch her face.

"You like that?" I do it again. "I think you do, Scully. My finger
is dripping wet. Wanna see?"

I bring my hand around in front of her face. There is no way in hell
she is going to open her eyes, I can tell, but her tongue flickers in
the corner of her mouth. God, I love this woman. "Lick it, Scully.
Taste yourself on me." She opens her mouth, closing it around my
finger, eyes closed, cheeks aflame. My cock throbs, jealous. "Good
girl. You have a beautiful mouth, Scully. Have I told you that
before? You do. And I have plans for that lovely mouth tonight."

I pull my finger out and trace it down her chin, between her breasts,
underneath her skirt. I begin to stroke her again, reaching further
to slick my fingertips, smearing, massaging her clit in small
circles, gradually increasing pressure and speed.

"What are you thinking about, Scully? Are you thinking about all
these people around us, wondering whether they see you, whether they
know exactly how hot you are, how desperate you are? Or are you
thinking about my finger in your mouth, about what I intend to put in
your mouth later? Are you thinking about how my cock feels in your
mouth, Scully? Because I am."

Her chin on her chest, she hums. With my other hand, I reach in from
behind to slip two fingers inside her. She arches her back, lifting
her ass off her heels. I pull my fingers out immediately.

"None of that, Scully. I warned you. Unless you want to find out
what else is in my bag, I strongly suggest you don't move again." Her
muscles clench, but she settles back down. I thrust my fingers in
and out, using my other hand to rub small circles around her clit.

"Open your eyes, Scully."

"No, I can't." She shakes her head, launching a bead of sweat down
the side of her face. I lick it off. I can feel the heat radiating
from her.

"Scully, how will you know if anyone is watching if you don't look?"

Her eyelids pop open but slam shut almost immediately, and she
groans. "No, it's too much, I can't, I..."

I can feel her first convulsions around my fingers, her body
quivering from the effort of keeping herself still, each breath quickly 
caught and held between her slightly open lips. Won't be long now. I crook
my fingers inside her, changing the angle. One last gasp and she
stiffens as the full force of her orgasm hits, biting her lip to stay
quiet, swaying only slightly, her head falling back against my
shoulder. I can't say I made her scream, but this is still without a
doubt the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life. Comets
screeching across the sky have nothing on a red-haired star imploding
into a black hole of ecstasy. I wrap my arms around her as she glides
back down, gasping for air, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

"God, Scully, that was incredible," I murmur into her hair, dropping
kisses on her forehead, and anywhere else I can reach while I untie
her hands. Silence. Uh-oh.

"Scully?"

"I'm fine, Mulder."

Shit, now I'm scared. "Scully....."

"No, really, I'm fine. You're right, that was... incredible."

She tilts her chin up and I kiss her, relieved.

"Um, Scully?"

"Yes?" Bliss, thy name is Scully.

"Let's head back to the hotel." Don't get me wrong, Scully, I love
that you look like an eager kid who just discovered a new toy, but if
I don't get out of these jeans and into you soon, I'm going to have a
coronary.

She looks at me with a mischievous smile, guessing the reason for my
sudden hurry, and slowly, oh so slowly, untangles her limbs from
mine. I gather up the blanket and shove it back into my bag while looking
around to reorient myself, desperate to find the train station. Time
to go, time to go, time to go.

"Hey, Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"How crowded do you think subway cars get?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The end.