Sitting in Monday morning’s briefing, I find myself mesmerized by one small detail.

Agent Dana Scully has what appears to be a love bite on the side of her slender throat.

Occasionally, she touches it with one delicate finger. Unconsciously, as if she has to reassure herself that it is still there, she rubs it lightly.

I don’t think anyone else would notice it, but I have been studying this woman for too many years to miss it. My mind races with the idea of who might have placed it so intimately. As far as I knew, this woman has no love life, no sex partner. Her time is filled with investigations of little green men and missing sisters. The possibility that she might have a personal life never occurred to me.

As the various agents drone on with their reports, I find it hard to concentrate. My mind wanders into assorted scenarios of how that mark found itself on Agent Scully. I can’t help but insert myself into those scenarios, although as far as I know, Agent Scully probably doesn’t even know my name. Oh, she knows who "Agent Willbanks" is, but I would be shocked if she knew my first name.

I’m sure she would be appalled if she knew how often she appears in my fantasies, how often I sigh "Dana" in my lonely bedroom.

I am sitting in the row behind her. The seat next to her, directly in front of my chair, is empty. I had considered sitting next to her, but she has piled folders and laptop on that chair. Besides, I don’t have enough nerve to sit that closely to her.

Her partner is not here. Were he any other person, I would consider that the mark had come from him. Attractive, tall, dark – why wouldn’t she be attracted to him? But in all the years I have watched her, never once have I seen her act in any way as if they are involved in any more than FBI work. Mulder is an odd person, aptly nicknamed "Spooky." Who knows what dark secrets he keeps inside?

There, she is doing it again. That slender finger rises to lightly touch the spot. I begin to feel uncomfortably warm watching as she gently caresses the mark. I shift slightly in my chair and attempt to listen to the reports. Instead, I watch as she finishes the caress and touches her lips briefly with the same finger. Entranced, I watch as the tip of her tongue just flicks out to taste the fingertip. I know my face is flushed, but I can’t help but watch.

I lean forward as she drops her hand to her lap. She uses that hand to smooth out invisible wrinkles in her skirt. I long to run my hands down those strong thighs. How fortunate that I do not have a report to present – the possibility of standing and talking right now is unlikely.

She presses her hands into her lap. They rest at the top of her thighs, and I close my eyes briefly as I contemplate touching that spot with my hands. After a moment, she folds her arms, palms cupping her breasts under the neat green suit jacket. It is cold in the room. She crosses her legs, and jiggles her foot.

My imagination takes over as I watch her delicate foot move. As tiny as that foot is, I know that even encased in the high heels she favors, she can still run like the wind. I watch as the thigh muscles move under her skirt.

She shivers slightly in the chilly room. It has long been a gripe of the agents, that this room is always too cold. She pulls her jacket closed. I contemplate ways to help warm her.

I realize that I am panting slightly. I glance around to see if anyone has noticed, but I seem to be the only person not listening intently to the droning of the speakers. Swallowing quickly, I make another attempt to listen.

There’s a small disturbance at the door to the room. Agent Scully’s partner enters, just as the latest agent finishes his report. Assistant Director Skinner beckons him forward to present his report. I notice that Agent Scully is smiling slightly as she listens to Mulder’s words. Mulder is wearing his glasses as he reads facts and figures, and probably cannot see her in the crowd while wearing them. Finishing his presentation, he folds the glasses into his pocket, and looking at the crowd, smiles at Agent Scully. He makes his way down the aisle to the chair next to her, and places the files and laptop on the floor. She leans over to whisper something to him, and he grins at her. Leaning back, he casually drapes his arm across the back of her chair.

I watch in dismay as I notice her shift slightly closer to him. The hand comes up again, fingertip lightly touching the tiny bite mark. He turns his head to whisper a comment and I notice that Agent Scully is not the only person with a love bite.