~*$**$**$**$*~ Part 3

With the crook of his finger, he beckoned her, noticing that she fought a 
losing battle to maintain a neutral expression. She seemed to be enjoying 
herself just as much as he was -- except he was willing to admit it. He 
smiled as she appeared in front of him, resting her back against the window 
and hooking her booted heel over the low brass rail. Her hands lay on her 
thighs.

"You were saying, Mulder?"

"I can say it better if you stand over here, closer to me."

"Try harder -- I'm staying right here."

"You're no fun."

Her arms crossed in front of her.

And he capitulated.

"Ok. So I'm cuffed, my hands behind my back. You walk around me and I can 
see how your ass moves beneath the tight leather, your legs looking long and 
shapely as you strut with impudence in those sexy heels." He paused; raking 
a hand through his hair, his eyes intently focused on her.

Taking in his pose, arms crossed, one hip jutting away from the wall, as his 
shoulder supported him against the cool marble. She noted the slight 
downward tilt of his head, how his hair fell over his forehead, making it 
appear as if he were looking up at her from eyes that held a secret between 
him and her. A very provocative secret. One she wanted him to finish sharing 
with her.

And she stepped a little closer, no longer needing to actually 'see' the 
particular red outfit that had started him down this sex-fantasy road.

"Tell me more." The want and need in her voice softly spoken but clearly 
communicated.

The distance between them less than one foot, neither touching, gazes 
locked.

"I watch your eyes as--"

"I'm wearing *that* and you're 'watching my eyes'? You're losing your touch, 
G-Man."

Taking another step toward her, his hands by his sides and then in his 
pockets, she can see his breath catch in his chest beneath the tan ribbed 
cotton knit crew neck.

"Don't think so, Scully. I watch your eyes as you draw closer. While the 
ever-darkening crystal blue is enticing, the hard points of your nipples so 
clearly defined beneath the very thin and stretchy red tee are what really 
catch my attention. Especially because they're now level with my eyes."

He watches her lips part and her tongue slip out to wet the lower. Hears her 
faint attempt to make him believe she isn't just as aroused as he is when 
she tells him to 'do go on'.

He complies and continues.

~*$**$**$**$*~

"Since I'm cuffed, I can't do what I'd really like to do, so I go for door 
#2, Vanna."

"Vanna?" The question is barely audible.

Ignoring her jab, he steps back and she follows.

"Maybe we should move this elsewhere, Mulder." Her furtive glances reveal 
only that no one seems to be paying them much attention.

He shakes his head, telling her 'here is just fine'.

"Since you're already right in my face, your spiked heel between my legs on 
the chair--" His eyes light up his recitation.

"When did that happen, Mulder?" The amused glint in her eyes elicits a grin 
from him.

"You're interrupting me again. This is my story, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Arms crossed in front of her once again, her chin 
jutting forward, she challenges him to continue.

"Annyyway, your spiked heel is between my legs, the pointed toe of the shoe 
rather close to my very obvious erection."

He notes that she follows his word to his fly.

"...So very close to my erection that I squirm. You lean one hand on my 
shoulder and my lips latch onto your nipple, right through the thin fabric, 
my teeth then gently tugging..."

"I think we should get going, Mulder." She's panting and draws her arms up 
higher where she knows the evidence of just how much she's getting into his 
story is blatant.  <What a pair we are> she thinks.

In a movement best described as a quiet and smooth flurry, he grasps one 
wrist away from her, draws her very close and brushes her fingers against 
the rather tented front of his trousers.

A small smirk appears as she cops a brief feel and then turns to walk away.


~*$**$**$**$*~

In the direction of one of his favorite shops, or rather, catalogues. 
Victoria's Secret.  Classy women models showing off Secret Scully Clothes. 
Oh yes, since they'd been able to explore the more intimate side of their 
relationship, he'd showered her with some very nice little lingerie gifts. 
Well, they ended up being gifts for him too....

So, he followed her without protest.

But she was moving away toward the Newsstand. He had to divert her. Not 
wanting to actually break out into a run, he did a combination fast 
walk/shuffle that had him by her side just in time to reach for her hand and 
nudge her left. Out of the wide archway of the magazine and newspaper 
emporium.

"Mulder, I wanted to pick up a magazine." Releasing his hand, she started to 
turn. Only to find his arm around her shoulders whisking her back toward the 
cream colored windows.

"I'll buy you any magazines you want later. Besides, why would you need 
reading material when you have me by your side? For a whole weekend?"  The 
mischievous gleam in his eyes hadn't really dissuaded her.

"Exactly. However, since you're being so nice, I'll indulge you one more 
time." Truth be told, she wasn't sure just how much longer she could indulge 
him. The man had more capacity to spin creative fantasies than anyone she'd 
ever known. He was the poster child for the phrase, 'think outside the box'. 
He is his very own new paradigm....

And he was turning her on, ratcheting up her arousal. With his voice. With 
his story-telling. And with his touches. Touches that were growing publicly 
bolder.

He was standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders, almost an arm's 
length away. But she could still feel his presence. She waited; knowing the 
next narration was about to begin. Theater of the Mind. Mulder's Mind. With 
a decidedly sexy slant.

"You'd wear that, wouldn't you, Scully?"

Hmm. A new style. Of fantasy. Of clothing.

She tilted her head to one side, considering, evaluating.  "I would." The 
tawny chestnut satin with just the barest hint of gold shimmer. Classy. The 
drape of the very low cascading neckline that would pool between her 
breasts, the barely there spaghetti straps.

"Why?" She heard the genuine inquiry and imagined his serious, considering 
face.

He was considering the very tailored waist on those tap pants. With the 
mid-thigh to nearly-waist slit. Just enough slit to show plenty of her firm, 
translucent skin.

But, before she could formulate her answer, he supplied it. "Because it's 
functional as well as sexy. You would wear the top under a suit, maybe. And 
those short, slit boxers, well," he moved a few steps closer, needing to 
touch, to connect, "you'd probably wear them under your suit skirt in the 
warmer weather. Without any pantyhose or nylons."

His voice had that low, dusky quality that she associated with a rather 
turned on Mulder.  "Why wouldn't I wear any pantyhose or nylons?"

She'd started whispering. He found it rather telling. She was losing control 
as quickly as he was. He hoped there weren't many other shop windows between 
here and the hotel. Any hotel.

"Because you'd know I wanted easy access."

Oh. Well, who was she to deny him access -- any kind of access?

Scully considered the possibility of a direct correlation between his 
physical proximity to her and the rise in her core body temperature. She 
determined it was a positive correlation, a direct one-one correspondence.  
If he drew any closer, she had the distinct impression that spontaneous 
combustion would be a serious consideration. She wondered idly how many 
actual, documented cases of such a phenomenon existed.

Well, there was always a first time for everything.

She'd barely realized he was talking to her. "What?"

"I said, wouldn't you want to give me access?" He was actually leering. Not 
that she hadn't seen him leer before, but coupled with the fact that he was 
also sporting quite the fashionable wood, the look took on new dimensions.

"Maybe we should try another shop...." Tugging at his hand wasn't working. 
She was dealing with Hooked on an Idea Mulder. A rather dangerous, in a most 
exciting way, version of Forming an Idea Mulder.

~*$**$**$**$*~

Their hands clasped, he headed for the entryway, walking into the mauve 
carpeted display area. "You need to have that outfit from the window, 
Scully." A statement of fact, plain and simple.

She turned to gaze up at him amidst the clothes hangers artfully arranged 
around them. "I don't think I'm going to ask you why I *need* it because 
it's rather obvious. But really, Mulder, you don't have to."

She knew he didn't have to, that he wanted to and she was touched. While she 
sometimes felt slightly embarrassed by the various and sundry gifts he 
bought her, she had to admit his taste was impeccable. And, that they were 
often items she might not buy for herself even though she might covet them. 
Like the tap pants and camisole in the window.

Taking her elbow and guiding her to the wall display, they passed the myriad 
satins and silks in tasteful gem colors and spring pastels and shaded 
neutrals, each rounder holding some of the sleekest and most sophisticatedly 
sexy lingerie he'd seen. Outside the catalogue. He was planning on seeing it 
very soon on Scully. Woman of many subtly striking moods and looks. All of 
them devastatingly beautiful.

She watched as he surveyed the upper rack where the camisoles hung by color 
and size, his arms crossed, his face a study in concentration. He drew the 
mere slip of tawny satin from the bar. Holding it up in front of her by the 
taupe rayon padded hangar arm, he angled it this way and that, the fabric 
shimmering and slinking in the artificial lighting, finally deciding it was 
exactly the right size.

She took it from him, smiling at his uncanny ability that really wasn't so 
uncanny since she knew he'd checked her lingerie drawer.

Seeing her small smile, he surmised he'd chosen correctly and bent toward 
the lower rack to find the camisole's mate. After handing it to her, he spun 
her in the direction of the sales desk.

When the saleswoman asked Scully if she wanted to take the two-piece set, 
Mulder shook his head. "She'd like to try them on first."

Scully knew that tone. Gently imperative. Meant to charm. "That's all 
right," she told him, turning to the woman, "I'll just have them wrapped."

One glance at his face told her that was the wrong answer. And that he had 
something else in mind entirely. That he didn't really need to know whether 
the fit would be right because he already knew that, as she did.

Smiling at the solicitous saleswoman, Mulder sidled up to his partner, 
leaning close enough for her to hear his sotto voce imploring her to try it 
on for him.

Victoria's Secret Sales Associate Vivian suddenly discovered a smudge on her 
black patent pumps in need of close observation.

Mulder noted that Scully's protestations were rather weak, telling him that 
she just needed a good reason to try on that which she already knew would 
fit her perfectly.

He decided to give her that reason. Thankful that most of the Sunday 
shoppers had decided they were not in dire need of sensual little nothings, 
he took a step closer to his partner. A step close enough to let her 
experience the nicely formed ridge in his chocolate wool trousers. Pressed 
insistently into the softness of her belly. Discreetly, of course.

"Is that a good enough reason, Scully?"

Her pursed lips and raised brow her failing attempt at rebuke; she drew in a 
sharp breath and stepped away from him. Taking the garments, she asked 
Vivian the way to the dressing rooms. Mulder followed like a feline on a 
catnip trail.

He was sure he heard her mutter, "That's your reason for almost everything," 
but didn't bother asking for confirmation.

Leaving him with the blue-striped candy bag, and the bag containing her foot 
creme, she watched him fold himself into the pastel brocade side chair just 
outside the slatted swinging doors to the changing area. The chair barely 
contained his lanky frame.

Dropping the small brown bag, he set the candy down in his lap, allowing the 
plastic covered gummies to serve as camouflage. His hands clasped and 
resting on the bag wedged the small, soft gel snack animals between the heat 
of his hands and the pulsing heat in his pants, creating a merging of 
multi-colored confection bears.

Meanwhile...

~*$**$**$**$*~  End Part 3