Title: First Contact
Author: ScullyFu
Email: x-file_addict@msn.com
Posted: 11/4/00

Archives: Spookies, Gossamer, Ephemeral are okay. Others, please ask.
Spoilers: There are a couple of minor mentions in passing.
Rating: NC-17
Classification: ScullySlash. Scully POV.

Summary: I'm curious. Just how did Dana and Mel meet?
Disclaimer: They're not mine. CC, 1013 and Fox have the sole rights to their existence. Dammit!
Special thanks to Meredith for her generous beta services. Her insights were invaluable. Believe me, this story wouldn't be the same without her. Thanks, chica.
Note: This is the prequel to the other stories set in the Beach Blanket Bingo Universe. It is not necessary for you to have read the first three installments since this can easily standalone. But a little background never hurts, and they're short, so if you want to read them to get caught up, go here: http://scullyfu.populli.net/

It's Friday night and it's been raining all day with no let up. Driving home from work, there were three fender benders due to a sudden hailstorm and I'm thankful just to get home in one piece. I treat myself to a long relaxing soak and now I'm cozy and warm in my pajamas, sitting cross-legged on the couch watching the flickering flames, a glass of wine on the table before me.

I pick up the book I've started to read on numerous occasions this past week. After a few pages, I'm staring, my mind wandering. I can't do much of anything these days without having my thoughts being overtaken by memories of her and our time together. It doesn't matter what I'm doing. It happens at work, while driving, shopping, or watching television.

But late night is definitely the worst. Then there are no distractions. Lately, after years of sleeping alone, my bed seems too large. I've always been a solitary person, self-reliant, needing few people in my life. The difference is that now, at this point in my life, I'm willing to admit, at least to myself, that I have been lonely for a long time.

But, this, this is a new experience for me. My previous bed partners have been male. If I ever had sexual thoughts about another woman, I buried them before allowing them to surface. I'm good at hiding my feelings, especially from myself.

The fact that I am attracted to a woman is not as much a shock to my system as I thought it would be; that is, had I ever given it any thought. Thinking back on my school days and formative years, I realize that I have been with men because it was the accepted route, the norm. It's not that being with men was unpleasant or repugnant, it just was not fulfilling in a deep soulful way.

I know that my past behaviors regarding relationships would lead many to wonder about my sanity right about now. Hell, I've been doing the same thing ever since I realized and admitted to myself how I feel about this woman.

I was raised in a traditional home with a loving mother and father, and in a church that expounds the virtues of marriage and children. Most everyone goes along with the program. We're told it's what God wants us to do. Few people question it.

I haven't always agreed with the dogma of my religion. It's no secret that I've had doubts and even left the Church for a number of years. At best, my belief in it remains tenuous. As a scientist, it's been difficult for me to blindly adhere to some of the Church's teachings. I've always believed in the spirit of the Church and, rightly or wrongly, I disregard those teachings that don't pass my personal litmus test for acceptability. Rules regarding pre-marital sex, birth control, and abortion have always been troublesome for me to embrace. Most of my disagreements with the Church have to do with its view of women in general and, specifically, a woman's right to determine what to do with her own body. And now I'm being forced to take a much closer and personal look at the Church's policy on homosexuality.

I put down my book; it's useless to continue. My full attention is on Mel, again. I can't even count how many times I've replayed how we met. I know I'm doing it again, but I can't help it. It makes me happy to think of her.

Skinner, God bless him, had sent me to a three-day seminar to assess the new software the Bureau was thinking of purchasing. The directive came down that all middle and upper management was to read the glossy brochures and go to the seminar. Since he had a bad cold and couldn't fly, Skinner sent me to Seattle in his stead.

As luck, or as Mulder would say, fate would have it, Melanie was there. There were very few women in attendance and we were the youngest of those, so we just sort of naturally migrated towards each other. After the first half-day session Mel suggested we have dinner. She was intelligent and friendly and I didn't want to eat alone in my room, so I agreed. To my surprise, within an hour of freshening up we were on the elevator headed to the top of the Space Needle.

As the Seattle skyline stretched out all around us, and Puget Sound glistened with the setting sun, we talked over dinner and drinks of our jobs and what led us to embark on our separate career paths. The evening passed pleasantly and when the check arrived, Mel picked it up, insisting she needed the tax write-off. After strolling around the Seattle Center grounds, we rode the Monorail back downtown, and since it was only around ten, we decided to have a nightcap in the hotel bar. Before we knew it, it was midnight. We said our goodnights and arranged to meet for breakfast before the morning sessions.

By the time the seminar concluded on the third day, she and I had spent nearly every waking minute together attending assorted training classes; we searched each other out at breaks and took our meals together. Mel had told me she lived in Boston so I knew seeing her again soon was not entirely out of the realm of possibility. Not having a lot of women friends, I was anxious to keep contact with her. I guess she felt the same way because she suggested that we juggle our airline schedules and fly back together. By the time we arrived at Logan Airport in Boston, we had exchanged home and work numbers as well as email addresses. With an hour layover before my shuttle up to Dulles, we went into the airport lounge for a coffee.

As soon as we were settled in our booth with our coffees, Mel announced, "I think you and I would be good together."

That certainly got my attention, and I admit to having been more than a little curious. It was obvious from her statement that she had been thinking about me, but in what respect? I recovered and managed to respond with, "Excuse me?"

"I think you and I would be good together," she repeated.

"What do you mean?"

"Look, Dana, I won't pull any punches. I've been trying to crack the old boys' network at the FBI to get a consulting contract for this new software. Honestly, it wouldn't hurt my credibility if I could bring you in on my next presentation to them. After this seminar you're as familiar with the software as any of those suits and bean counters claim to be. I could work with you and get you proficient in no time. You know your way around the Bureau and what their needs are. You'd be a tremendous asset to my team. You're an insider, Dana; one of the FBI's own. You'd be fantastic with the pre-emptive strike, heading off all their objections before they even know they have them. I don't know what you earn, but if you're half as sharp as I think you are, I could put you in six figures right away."

I nearly spit out my coffee. "Six figures?"

"That's only to start. I have a large HMO and a pharmaceutical company on the hook, and with your credentials, I could blow all the competition out of the water. What do you say?"

Stunned, I sat silent for a few moments. Jesus, I thought, six figures, to start. What else could I say, but that I was extremely flattered?

"And?" Mel seemed nervous, fidgeting with her napkin.

"And, I think it's something I really need to contemplate. I couldn't possibly give you an answer right now." The thought that computer consultants probably don't make many impromptu emergency room visits crossed my mind.

"Oh, of course, I didn't expect an immediate answer, I just wanted to put all my cards on the table. I'm just happy that you're even considering it. Thank you."

"Are you kidding? Thank you. And I promise that I will give it some serious thought."

She walked me to my terminal. We smiled and gave each other a quick hug before I headed to the tunnel. The flight home was uneventful, other than I couldn't stop thinking about Mel and her offer.

It's been well over a week since the software seminar and I haven't heard from her. I am perplexed. I thought that we had developed a kernel of a friendship. I think I've been pouting. My disappointment must be obvious; even Mulder asked me what was wrong.

I gave him my pat answer of being fine. Of course, it was a lie. We both know it, but it's part of the distance game we play. What is happening? Why hasn't she called me? She seemed so sincere, so interested. Was she just blowing smoke when she offered me a position at her firm? I don't think so. Maybe after she thought it over, she changed her mind and felt it was easier just to ignore me in hopes that I'd go away.

Well, I refuse to be dismissed. I check my watch. It's too late to call her tonight. Tomorrow will have to do.

I didn't sleep well. I've been up since just after six killing time till now. I've done my laundry, mopped my kitchen floor, dusted, the whole nine yards. Ten o'clock seems like a reasonably safe time to call. She's probably up by now. I swallow my anger and fear that festered as I tossed and turned restlessly. Placing the call, I take a few deep breaths as the phone rings. After the fourth one I am expecting the message machine to pick up when the phone clicks.


"Hello? Melanie?"

"Who's calling, please?"

"This is Dana, Dana Scully." I barely finish my name before she responds.

"Oh, hi, Dana, it's me. How have you been?"

Is she serious? I've been living the last week on pins and needles, a bundle of uncertainty -- that's how I've been. But, of course, I reply with my patented, "I'm fine." I'm so damned predictable.

"It's good to hear your voice. I've been meaning to call you, but I've been swamped working on a new angle for my next presentation."

Her explanation sounds reasonable. "Oh." That's the sum total of my brilliant repartee.

"Is something wrong, Dana?"

"No, no, nothing."

"Are you sure? You sound distant."

"Um, no. I, I just thought I heard someone at my door. Sorry."

"So to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

She seems happy to hear from me. "Just thought I'd touch base. We haven't spoken since we got back."

"I thought I explained that." She hesitates. "You don't think I'm avoiding you, do you?"

"No, no," I stammer, "it never crossed my mind." Mulder's right, I'm a bad liar.

"Okay." She apparently decides to let me off the hook. "So what do you want to talk about?"

Do I dare say that I've missed her, can't stop thinking about her, and just wanted to hear her voice? Of course not. Not me. "I wanted to tell you that I've thought about your job offer." Well, at least that's true.

"You have? That's promising," she says, her voice hopeful.

"And as enticing as it sounds, I really can't accept."

"Oh." It's her turn to go monosyllabic. She sounds disappointed.

The line goes silent for a bit, neither of us saying a word.

"And there's nothing I can say or do?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Don't mind if I keep asking, do you?" The tone of her voice lightens considerably.

Keep asking? That implies that she wants to keep in touch. "No, keep asking. Who knows, maybe one day I'll surprise you and say yes." I kind of chuckle.

"Hey, can you fly up here?"


"Today. Now. I'm on a self-imposed work-free weekend. No need for a hotel, I've got plenty of room here."

My mind is racing. I can feel excuses starting to take form. Before I can talk myself out of it, I blurt out, "Sure."

"Great. Hang on. I'll be right back." Where's she going? After a few minutes, she returns.

"I just sent you the link for the United Airlines site. There are still seats available on the early afternoon flights out and a mid-evening flight back tomorrow. Sound do-able?"

I'm encouraged by her enthusiasm and eagerness and the fact that she has my email address so handy. "Yes. Sounds perfect. I'll just throw together an overnight bag and head out." I can feel myself getting caught up in the excitement of seeing her. "Here comes your email. I'm looking at the schedule. Okay, I'll catch the twelve-thirty flight. If anything changes, I'll call. Otherwise, I'll see you around two."

"I'll be there."

Again, silence. It's a bit awkward.

"Um, do I need to bring anything special?"

"Nope. Casual is fine. Just come on up."

"See you soon," I say, hanging up.

I stand frozen for a moment; my hand still wrapped around the phone. Oh Lord, what am I thinking? Here I am literally rushing off to spend a weekend with a woman I barely know. I tell myself to relax; it's just a friendly visit. Nothing more than a chance to catch up and touch base with a new acquaintance.

I rush around my bedroom, grabbing a few last-minute things to throw in my overnight case. One advantage of always having a bag ready is the ability to pick up and leave at a moment's notice. Unlike most of my sudden departures, in this instance, it's a happy occasion.

Traffic to Dulles is light. Yesterday's bad storm has blown itself out and the sun is shining. I leave my car in the short-term parking lot and head for the terminal. While making a beeline for the United desk I pull out my credit card. The transaction is complete and I still have fifteen minutes before I need to board. Now I'm wondering if this is really such a good idea. Calm down, I tell myself, you're just nervous.

I decide to buy a magazine; I need something to take my mind off what I'm doing. I haven't had my caffeine fix today and it shows. I'm jittery. I get myself a triple grande, non-fat mocha, no whipped cream and head back to the terminal.

My flight is announced for boarding. I'm ready. I have what's left of my mocha in hand and my magazine shoved into my bag. To the casual observer I'm the perfect example of a seasoned flier. Ho-hum. If they only knew every take-off and landing is tantamount to a death sentence for me.

I settle into my seat. Fortunately there's no one next to me. That means no one watching as I put a death grip on the armrests; no one to stare as my knuckles turn white.

Once the plane levels off, I'm able to relax some, although I still feel a bit unsettled. I think it has less to do with the flight than the circumstances. I'm not usually so impulsive. I like to gather facts, weigh options, reach conclusions in a logical fashion. It's what I do; it's my modus operandi. So why the hell am I flying to Boston on a whim on a Saturday afternoon?

I check my outfit, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about my clothing choices. She did say casual. So I slid into my jeans and a t-shirt, loafers and my bomber jacket. I tell myself that I look good. Mel hasn't seen me dressed like this. In Seattle, it was professional dress during the seminars and when we went out for the evening, it was less formal, but still upscale. I wonder how she'll be dressed. I hope I'm not too casual for whatever she has planned. My make-up is light, mostly mascara and lipstick. And I've let my hair go natural, so it's curly rather than blown straight.

I have a drink to try to calm down. It's not working. I'd have another, but I need to be in total command of my faculties. The last thing I want is to stagger off the plane. That would make a great impression.

While I've been fretting the plane has been cruising along without regard to my damned insecurities or me. So, it is a surprise when I hear the pilot's announcement that we will be landing in approximately ten minutes. Boston, he says, is a clear, sixty-five degrees with no wind. Sounds like a lovely day in Beantown. I feel comfortable in my choice of clothing.

After we touch down, I wait for the other passengers to deplane. It gives me a few minutes to gather my nerves and do a little deep breathing. I hope Mel is here already. For a moment I consider staying on the plane and going back home. I'm being irrational. Two deep breaths and by sheer force of will I get up.

I grab my bag from the overhead and start towards the door. I look around and notice I'm the last of the Mohicans; except for the flight attendants, everyone else is off the plane.

"There you are! I was beginning to think you'd missed your flight." I follow the voice and see Mel give me a little wave. I watch as her eyes travel up and down my body. Inexplicably, I feel myself shiver. She walks around some plastic-molded chairs and over to me.

"Oh, no. I always wait for everyone else to leave rather than fight my way into the aisle just to stand and wait."

"Good idea. You look great," she says, smiling.

I return the compliment. And it's true. She is lovely, dressed in snug-fitting jeans; long-sleeved t-shirt topped with an unzipped polar fleece vest, and tennis shoes. Her dark shoulder-length hair is pulled back into a ponytail; her sunglasses positioned on top of her head. She looks very fresh, not much make-up, just mascara and lipstick, like me.

We grasp each other's hand in greeting. Not a handshake, per se, more like a hand hold. Her hand is warm, mine is cold and I'm afraid a bit clammy.

"You all right?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"You look a little shaky." She takes my bag from me and we start walking. I become conscious of our hands still together and disengage mine from hers.

"The weatherman is predicting thunderstorms today, was it a bumpy flight?"

"Not particularly. Just my usual jitters."

"Well, you're back on terra firma now. So you can relax, right?"

"Right." Relax? I think I'm more nervous now that I'm here.

"Are you hungry? I'm sure they didn't feed you. You think for the prices these people charge they could come up with more than a lousy bag of peanuts."

"Yeah, and they don't even give you that anymore."

"So, do you want to grab a bite to eat? Maybe some chowder?"

"That sounds great. I haven't had a good bowl of chowder for ages," I confess.

We've made our way out of the terminal and into the passenger loading area. "This way," she says, briefly interlocking our arms as we cross the street and head towards the parking structure.

"I'm parked on Level C. Want to take the stairs?" She looks at me and I answer her by grabbing the handrail and starting up.

We're there in a matter of a minute. Since Mel is carrying my bag, I open the door for her.

"Thanks. Now, if no one's stolen the damned car," she says, laughing. She stops, looks around, and for a moment I think maybe someone has. "There it is," she says, pointing. "It's the silver Saab convertible."

I'm impressed. A Saab is not an inexpensive piece of machinery. Her business must be doing well. She opens the trunk and tosses my bag in.

"Okay, food. I'm famished. I was about ready to eat when you called, but decided to wait."

My, this is a luxury car. The leather molds to my body. I buckle my seat belt and sit back. I turn my head slightly to look at Mel. To my surprise, she's looking at me.

"It's lovely out, should I put the top down?"


She reaches into the back seat and grabs us each a baseball cap. "It can get a little breezy," she explains, backing out, the tires squealing as we descend the ramps and out into traffic. Hopping on the freeway, we head towards the water. The wind isn't all that bad, and I feel invigorated from the fresh air.

When we arrive at the docks, Mel parks and sets the car alarm. The sun is shining; it is a glorious day. I'm more relaxed now and feeling good about my decision to come. The server leads us out to the deck and we grab a table by the water. It's warm in the sun, so I take off my jacket and throw it over the back of my chair. Mel pushes up the sleeves of her shirt. Her arms are tanned and strong.

The server is attentive and brings us big chunks of sourdough bread, butter and water before asking for our order. "Two bowls of chowder, please." Mel looks at me. "You did want chowder, right?"


"Have a preference for beer?"

"Not really. I'll have whatever you do."

She turns towards the server. "Two Mack and Jacks, please."

"Mack and Jack?"

"Trust me, it's good."

I smile at her. "This is a lovely treat. Thanks for inviting me up."

"Hey, no problem." We look up as the waitress brings our beers. "It's true, you know."

"Pardon me? What's true?"

"That I've been working like a madwoman and not intentionally avoiding you."

"Oh." I flash back to our earlier phone call and hope I didn't come across as wounded or needy.

"I haven't forgotten about you, Dana. Hell, you're not exactly an easy woman to forget." She laughs and I try to smile.

"Quite honestly, meeting you was the highlight of the Seattle trip." She pauses. "I just wish I could talk you into joining my firm."

"Hey, no work weekend, remember?"

"I remember, but if I don't mention work at least once, I can't write off lunch." Her eyes are dancing with mischief. "Okay, I've fulfilled the IRS guidelines, no more shop talk."

The chowder arrives in short order. "This is delicious and the beer is fantastic. I'll have to remember it next time I buy some at home."

We pass time with a quiet visit interrupted by spurts of laughter, finish our meal, order another beer, and savor the late afternoon sunshine.

"So, have anything special you want to do?" she asks.

"Mel, I didn't come to sightsee." I pause. "I came to see you."

Her eyes widen at my disclosure and she seems genuinely surprised. Can't say as I blame her. I'm surprised and I'm the one who said it. It's true, but I still catch myself off guard that I would actually say it. Usually I think things, but rarely say them. Maybe it's the sun and beers making me bold. The movement of my arm gets her attention and she looks down to watch as I reach out and wrap my hand around hers. God, what's gotten into me?

She looks up. "I see." Our eyes are locked.

"I'm sorry," I say, breaking the gaze and releasing her hand. "I'm afraid I miscalculated and spoke out of turn."

"So you wanted to see me, that's what friends do. I'm assuming here that you consider us friends since you flew up here for a visit."

She pauses, waiting for some sort of an acknowledgement, so I nod.

"And, secondly, you didn't make a miscalculation." She smiles warmly.

"I, I didn't?"

"No, you didn't." She reaches across the small table and intertwines our fingers.

"I told you you weren't an easy woman to forget, Dana. I have been thinking about you, and not just in a work capacity."

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do or say.

"I'm glad you called today. I was going to give you a buzz this weekend, but this worked out soooo much better, don't you think?" She lets out a laugh.

"Want another beer?" She doesn't wait for my answer before signaling to the server in the unspoken language of drinkers everywhere.

She rests back into her captain's chair and smiles at me. She has a lovely warm smile and her eyes seem to twinkle in the fading late afternoon sunlight.

"You look great, Dana."

"You said that already," I say, averting my eyes.

"Well, it warrants saying again." She pauses until I look up. "I've missed you."

I take a moment to process that information.

"You doubt that?"

I shrug and offer a half smile.

"Dana, you are a terrific woman. I enjoyed your company tremendously in Seattle, and I was hoping that we could keep in touch even though I knew you wouldn't accept my job offer."

"How could you know?"

"Well, the way you spoke about your job and your partner told me that you were deeply invested."

"Then why did you ask me to join your firm?"

"I'd have to be insane not to try to get you on board. You have so much going for you; you'd fit right in. I still think you and I would be good together."

She is talking about the job, isn't she? "Thanks."

"I'll keep asking. Like you said, you never know when you might give in to me."

Is she doing that on purpose? I swear she's speaking in code.

The sun has long since set over the water and the wind is picking up a bit. The sky is threatening to cloud up and block the stars. The restaurant has filled up with the evening clientele. I check my watch; amazingly, it's close to eleven o'clock.

"Ready to call it an evening?"

Before I can formulate an answer, she's paid the bill, and we're piling into the car.

I put my hand over hers as she starts to turn over the engine. "Are you okay to drive?"

"Sure. We've been here quite a while, and we ate. I think that ought to counteract all the beers. I'll be fine. My house isn't but ten minutes max."

She's slowly leaning in very close to me. God, I think she's going to kiss me. My heart is thumping. She gives my hand a squeeze and reaches across my body. When she speaks her voice is low, both in volume and pitch.

"Don't forget to buckle up," she says, smiling slowly.

It's a balmy night. There's definitely a storm brewing. The air has taken on a heavy quality, like when a fog rolls in over the ocean. I drank more than I normally would and am feeling no pain. Mel puts a CD in the player. The music is romantic in a jazzy way, the woman's voice soft and sultry with only a piano and bass as accompaniment.

Revving the engine, she pulls out onto the near-deserted highway. True to her word, within ten minutes we're pulling into her driveway. She pops the trunk to grab my bag while I get out of the car.

She comes around and links our arms. When we reach the front door she puts down my bag; unlocking it, she pushes it open and heads over to the stairs where she flips open a small box and disarms the silent alarm.

"Come on in. There's no guard dogs." She's smiling as she picks up my bag and takes it down the hall into what I surmise is the guest bedroom.

Suddenly a yawn sneaks up and out of me. "Sorry. Guess I'm more tired than I thought, must have been all those beers," I hypothesize.

She gives me the ten-cent tour of the downstairs and promises to show me around more tomorrow. She walks me to my room and leaves me to get ready for bed.

I'm just emerging from the bathroom when she knocks on the bedroom door.


"Yep." I'm buttoning up my pajama top when she walks in. I look down for the buttonhole and see my hardened nipples against the satin material. It's obvious that she notices.

"I brought you some aspirin and a glass of water just to be on the safe side. Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, thank you."

She turns down the bed for me. "Hop in," she says.

The sheets are a cold against my bare feet, but the down comforter is fluffy and I know it will be no time before I get warm.

"Comfy?" she asks while pulling up the covers. Looming over me, she gently pushes a piece of hair off of my face and tucks it behind my ear. Her hand lingers and I think I can detect a trembling in her fingers. Maybe it's me. She sits on the side of the bed and leans down towards me. My feet are no longer cold. No part of me is. Our eyes are locked. My breathing is shallow. If I lift up a bit I can reach her lips. I want to kiss her. My chest tightens. I part and moisten my lips in invitation.

I purposely keep my voice soft. "Mel." The sound of her name seems to pull her back from wherever she is. She blinks, gets up and leaves without a word. The only sound is the gentle clicking of the door as it closes behind her.

I lay in wonder of what just happened; or more precisely, what didn't. A big sigh escapes from deep within me as I turn onto my side. The bedside clock indicates eleven-fifty. I'm suddenly exhausted, my body feels heavy and my head is threatening to ache. Taking some aspirin with a few large swallows of water, I lay back down. Remembering that I barely got any rest last night, I close my eyes.

I wake up with a start. For a moment I'm disoriented, not sure where I am. The room is pitch black except for the illuminated numbers on the clock. It's four-thirty. I've been asleep for close to five hours. I listen closely, but the house is silent. God, it's hot in here. I throw the comforter off, then the sheet.

Water, I need water. My mouth is like cotton. I'm dehydrated from all the beers. My head has eased up, but there remains a hint of ache behind my eyes. I'm still hot. I get up to open the window then remember the alarm system. I'd hate to trigger it. Unbuttoning my top, I flap it to create a breeze. Better. I take off my bottoms and go stand on the bathroom floor in hopes the cool linoleum on my bare feet will give me some relief. I splash water on my face trying to bring down my elevated body temperature.

Walking back to the bed, I sit down and take two more aspirin. I think I'll lay back down and let the drugs do their thing. At least I hope they'll take away what's left of this headache. I'm sprawled on my back on the bed with my eyes closed, my top still open and no covers. Drifting, drifting, drifting.

I slowly become aware of kitchen noises. Cupboards are being shut, pots and pans are being placed on the stove, the water is turned on and then off again. I hear a mixer whirring. Checking the clock, I see that I fell back asleep for another five hours. Good Lord, I don't usually sleep this much. I realize that I'm starving and nearly sniffing at the air to catch the bacon and coffee aromas.

Lifting up the covers, I button up my top and step back into my bottoms. I brush my teeth and hair before heading out of the bedroom.

Mel doesn't hear me approaching; she's busy making what looks like pancakes. My stomach growls.

"Morning," I say.

She turns around. "Hey, sleepyhead, just in time. Breakfast is ready."

"I just wanted to say good morning before I grabbed a shower."

"Can you wait till after? The food will get cold."

She motions me to the breakfast island and I climb up onto one of the backless stools. Placing a plate of piping hot pancakes in front of me, she slides the softened butter across the tabletop. She turns away and when she returns she has two plates of crisp bacon and eggs over easy in one hand and the coffee pot in her other.

"You do that really well."

"Well, like a lot of women putting themselves through school, I used to do some waitressing. Guess it's a talent you never lose." She smiles and takes a seat next to me.

She's wearing a pair of boxers with a short cotton belly shirt and I can feel her bare leg rubbing up against mine under the table. I don't move away. It's intimate and pleasant and natural.

I nearly woof down my pancakes, interspersed with bites of eggs and bacon; I didn't realize just how hungry I was.

"I can't eat any more," I announce, pushing my plate away. "That was a fantastic breakfast."

"Thanks. I like to cook once in a while. You know how it is, when you're just cooking for one you tend not to. I usually eat a salad or something that doesn't take too much bother." She talks while she clears the dishes.

"More coffee?" The pot is poised over my cup and when I nod she pours. "The paper's over on the table by the couch. Go on over, I'll join you in a minute."

Silently, I take my coffee and settle on the couch. I find the main page and start looking at the headlines. Mel comes out of the kitchen, coffee cup in hand, and sits next to me. Close. She smells good.

"Mel, could you excuse me for about fifteen minutes? I'd really like a shower," I say, standing up.

"I'll be here."

Standing under the spray, I feel revived. Amazing what a little soap and hot water will do. With a towel wrapped around my wet hair, I brush my teeth again and swig some mouthwash. I throw on a pair of shorts and a button up cotton shirt and comb out my hair. After I apply lotion to my entire body I feel human again, ready to face the world and Mel.

I was ready for something to happen last night. The question is do I still or was it just the alcohol? I ponder that for a few moments and decide that while the alcohol may have been a factor, I wanted something to happen then and I still do.

Having no experience with this sort of thing makes it difficult to know how to begin or what exactly to say or do. The best solution I can come up with is just to do whatever feels right at the moment. The thought occurs to me that I may not be the only one to not have any experience in these sorts of circumstances. Great. Talk about the blind leading the blind. Well, if it happens, it happens and we'll just fumble through together. That thought makes me smile.

A few deep breaths and I'm ready to re-join Mel in the front room. As I re-enter, she's sipping her coffee and turning the pages of the paper. She looks up when she sees me.

"You look great in the morning," she says.

"So do you."

Mel pats the cushion inviting me to sit and swivels so that she's facing me, both her knees up on the couch. I mirror her position.

"You're dripping."

I'm frozen in place as her fingers wipe away water that is running down my neck.

"I wasn't aware that you had curly hair until yesterday. Why don't you wear it like that all the time?"

Her fingers have been joined by her thumb, which is steadily stroking my throat. I try to sound casual, but my neck muscles tighten, making it suddenly difficult to speak with any sort of volume.

"Well, I don't think it looks professional, so I blow it straight during the work week and let it dry naturally on the weekends."

She twists some still wet hair around her finger. "I think it's sexy as hell." My stomach clenches with the realization that the something that almost happened last night is about to occur. Using my hair, she pulls me closer to her. I'm nervous and I think I may be trembling ever so slightly.

"Don't be frightened."

"I'm not," I lie.

"Okay." She says it like she doesn't quite believe me.

I pull back. "Mel?"

"Yes." Her thumb is tracing the outline of my ear. God, she's good. I try to control my breathing, forcing myself to keep it slow and steady.

"Um, have you ever done this before?"


"You know."

"You want to know if I've been with a woman before?"

I nod.

"Yes." She's inching closer. Her other hand is on my knee. She's squeezing it.

"A lot?" For some reason it seems important.

"Enough to know what I'm doing," she says, smiling. "I'm taking a wild guess here, but this is your first time, right?"

I release a small nervous laugh and shake my head. "Relax, Dana. It's going to be fine."

"I'm afraid I won't know what to do, that I'll, I'll disappoint you."

"Highly unlikely." Her hand slides further up my leg. I grasp her wrist lightly.

She pulls me to her again. I think her lips are going to meet mine, but she moves her head a bit till her mouth is near my ear. I can hear her breathing and feel the moist heat from her mouth puffing against me. She whispers softly, "If you want to stop, just tell me."

She pulls back to search my eyes before leaning back to my ear. "Dana, I want you. Every fiber of my being is screaming for you. May I please kiss you?"

Her declaration of need for me is overwhelming. It's so sweet the way she asks to kiss me. Turning my head till our lips meet, I close my eyes. I want absolutely no distractions. Her lips are soft, so very soft. Our mouths capture each other's quivering moans. Its obvious we've both been waiting for this for a while.

"I didn't think this would ever happen," she says.

I want another kiss. Only this time I want more. I put my hand behind her head and pull her to me. Her lips are parted and waiting. Her eyes are bright, her pupils dilated. She wants me. I dart my tongue into her mouth. She doesn't object so I run it over her lips before re-entering her mouth. It's hot, soft and hot. She tastes like coffee. I wonder if she's thinking that I taste like mint mouthwash.

A hunger I haven't acknowledged for years begins to awaken. Her tongue is velvety and slippery. It feels good here, here with her. She runs her tongue along the length of mine. Oh God, oh God. Then over and under. Sweet Jesus. She's starting all over again. I don't think anyone has ever kissed me like this before. It is completely arousing. I need to catch my breath. My lungs are demanding more oxygen, but I don't want to stop.

Her hand is on my hip, stroking up and down my thigh. I've got to breathe. I'm going to pass out if I don't. I take her head in my hands and pull us apart.

"What?" she asks, panting.

"I need to catch my breath."

She chuckles. "Are you saying that I take your breath away?"

"Yes." I kiss her face, her eyes, her nose, and her chin. This is something I can do and still remain conscious. I caress her throat and neck with baby kisses. She sighs.

We settle against the back of the couch. I have my breath back and kiss her again. My nerves are gone. Feeling confident and relaxed, I deepen the kiss. One of us whimpers. Our heads tilt in all directions, but we never break apart. My hands are in her hair, my fingers examining her scalp.

She's stroking my back, but I can barely feel it. It's more of a perception than awareness of any pressure. I shudder when I think of how it will feel when her hands are in direct contact with my skin.

I've lost all track of time. But if I had to guess, I'd say we've been kissing for nearly a half-hour. There's no sense of urgency, no need to rush. Kissing has never seemed this important before; usually it's been a quick precursor to the main event. But here, with Mel, nothing else seems to matter, only the sensation of her enticing mouth melding with mine. I could do this for hours. It's comforting being here like this, so close with her.

"Dana." She kisses my neck and gently sucks on my skin.


"Are you ready?"

Oh dear God. I think all my nerves just re-surfaced. Everything was going so well that I forgot about what was bound to follow. Oh.

"For what?" I ask.

She's standing before I even realize she's moved. She's reaching for me.

"I promised you a tour, remember?"

"Now?" I say, gasping in equal measures of surprise and relief.

She shakes her head and takes my hand. Thank you, Lord. I don't know if I'm ready for anything else right now. I mean I want her, God, do I ever, but I don't want to rush into anything.

She gives me a quick hug and puts her arm around me. The tour is starting.

"You've seen the lower half of the house, so I'll take you upstairs."

Why does that fill me with trepidation? I tell myself to calm down. Where else would she take me? It's the only part I haven't seen yet. It makes sense.

We stop on the landing and she kisses me, nothing intense, just sweet. It's not long before we're continuing up the stairs.

"This is the family room. Well, it would be if I had a family. But since I don't, I christened it the t.v. room. So named because the big screen t.v. takes up most of the floor space. But, hey, you can't watch sports on a twenty-seven-incher now, can you? That would be downright sacrilegious."

We laugh as we continue down the hall. I put my arm around her waist. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to do.

"Bathroom." She pulls me in and just as quickly pushes me out. "Seen one, seen them all," she says.

"My work room. Notice the soft lighting, the warm wood paneling, and tastefully functional, yet utilitarian furniture. Everything meant to put me at ease, so I can work productively."

"Does it work?"

"Mostly. But sometimes I just come in here and sit."

"And do what?"

"Nothing. Just sit."

I glance at her. She seems far away, like she's thinking of something kind of sad. Silent, we hold each other for a few moments.

"Are you okay, Mel?"

She shakes her head. "The tour continues." We walk down the hall. "Linen closet. Don't think there's anything much to see in there," she says as we pass right by it.

"Other spare bedroom." She looks at me. "I know what you're thinking. Why do I need so many bedrooms, right? Well, I like company. I work like a dog sometimes, and when I come up for air I want my friends nearby. It's not unusual for a few people to be here for a week or so when I finish up a big project."

I smile. "And you're in your work mode now?"

"Pretty much. I've been working nearly non-stop since Seattle to get this presentation just how I want it. I'm determined to get that Bureau contract."

"Well, I think you'll do it. You seem to get what you go after." I pause and wonder if she thinks I'm speaking about myself. "I mean, just look at this lovely home. It's so warm and inviting. Your job is obviously satisfying and challenging. You have a lot of friends. And dare I mention how much I envy you your car?"

"I've always been goal-oriented, results are important to me, they validate the efforts. As a bonus, I get to have all this." She sweeps her hands around in an all-encompassing gesture.

"Okay, last stop coming up." We take a dozen steps down the hall and enter what I assume is her bedroom. The room itself is fairly big, maybe twenty by thirty, but gives the appearance of being bigger because of the large bay windows. They are partially hidden by the levolor blinds, which are closed halfway to keep the afternoon sun from shining directly into the room. The window seat is about six feet long and is covered with a lovely chintz print. A few matching pillows are thrown haphazardly on it.

The queen-sized sleigh bed is made from lacquered hardwood with a comforter that looks like the one on the bed in the downstairs guestroom, and the pillows have matching shams. There's an armoire directly opposite the bed. I wonder if there's a t.v. or stereo system tucked away inside.

The floors are highly polished hardwoods covered with area rugs that appear to be Turkish. On the walls are black and white photos of various sizes, beautifully matted in wood frames. The glass looks to be museum quality non-glare, and there are the same small lights you'd find in a museum hanging over and illuminating each picture.

"These are stunning. Are you a photographer?"

"Me? No. A good friend of mine took them. She's a wonderful photographer. She's working now on putting together a show for a gallery. It won't be for a few more months, but maybe you'd like to go with me?"

"I'd like that."

"You can't see everything from the door. Come on." She leads me in and we walk around. She opens a door to reveal a walk-in closet. Inside there is a wall of business suits, one of evening clothes, and the final wall has her casual outfits; an extensive variety of shoes are on trees, placed under the appropriate clothes. Accessories have their own little corner spot wedged in between the business and casual areas. I'm impressed. I appreciate the care and diligence it takes to be so meticulous with a wardrobe.

"I bet your dry cleaning bill puts mine to shame," I say, half-laughing.

"Well, I probably don't have the extra charges you're subjected to for blood stains and bog sludge. Come on."

Mel removes her arm from around my shoulder and holds my hand as she leads me to another door. Opening it up, she guides me in ahead of her. I am in the most beautiful bathroom I've ever seen. In fact, it's almost a shame to call it that. The floor tile is obviously imported; the sink and toilet are definitely special order, all the fixtures are gold, well, not real gold, I'm sure.

To call what is before me a mere tub would be a crime. It is more like something you'd expect to see in an old movie about the Romans in their heyday. It's huge and deep and I can see the jet openings. The porcelain is tinted blue. I imagine it looks like a small pool when it's full of water. The bathroom has the same bay windows as the bedroom giving it an open, airy feeling.

"Is that a sauna?" I ask, staring over at the wooden box.

"Uh huh."

We walk over to it. I open the door. It's a two-person style with facing benches. "It helps me unwind after those all-day meetings. Sometimes I come home all kinked up from dealing with people who just don't get it and this really helps to release all the tension."

"God, what I wouldn't give to have one of these at home."

"You're welcome to use mine whenever you like."

I turn to face her. "Well, the daily commute might be a little rough."

Her arms reach for my waist and I step into her embrace. Here, in her bathroom we join together. Our bodies pressed tightly together, its apparent that neither of us is wearing a bra. My nipples are extremely sensitive, and each movement transmits small electrical charges through them to the rest of my body. We're kissing, not sweetly like on the landing earlier. This has an almost desperate quality to it. Her tongue sliding around mine is driving me wild. I've wrapped my arms around her waist and up her back gripping her shoulders from behind. She slides her hands down from my waist and cups my ass, pulling me closer. I seriously doubt there's one inch of space anywhere between us.


I say nothing, but tilt my head in a questioning gesture.

"I want to make love to you."

This is it. This is what I've been simultaneously dreading and craving. Why I nearly stayed on the plane and the same reason I didn't. I want this; my body wants this, to be with her, here, now. I'm shivering, damn nerves, I can't seem to stop.

Mel kisses my temple. "If you're not ready, Dana, just say so. I don't want to rush you. It's understandable that you'd be scared."

Nerves. Fear. Frustration. Disappointment. All these things conspire to attack me at once and I feel myself on the verge of tears.

Mel takes my face in her hands and tries to comfort me. "Shh. Shh. It's all right." She uses her thumbs to wipe away the tears that are trickling down my face. "Shh. It's okay." She places a light kiss on each of my eyelids.

I lean into her, my face buried in her shoulder. Mel wraps her arm around my back and uses her other hand to stroke my hair. This is a disaster. I'm a grown woman and I'm behaving like a frightened child.

"Come on," she says, quietly leading us out of the bathroom and towards the bed.

"Mel, I...I can't." My voice is choked with emotion.

"Shh. It's okay. I just want you to get under the covers. You're shaking like a leaf. You need to get warm."

She pulls back the comforter and I climb in. In an attempt to get me warmer, Mel is wrapped around me. But she's stayed on top of the blanket and it's not having any effect. I'm huddled in a fetal position and still shaking badly.

I try willing myself to stop, apparently I'm not listening. I chide myself for losing control. I don't understand it, usually one of these techniques works.

Mel tells me to breathe slowly. Good advice. In no time the shakes start to subside. Thank heaven for small mercies. Mel has not let me out of her grasp, whispering words of encouragement. I'm warming up now.

"What time is it?" I ask, turning around in her arms so that we are face to face.

"About one, why?"

"I need to start thinking about getting to the airport."

"It's still early."

"I have to go to work tomorrow."

"Don't worry, flights run pretty late."

Mel kisses my forehead. I feel the nerves coming back. I close my eyes and force them away. I can feel her gaze. It's intense and piercing. I can't meet it. It will engulf me and not let me escape.

I slowly bring my eyes up to meet hers. They are warm and embracing. Happiness wants to break free, but a hidden sadness won't let it. A subtle melancholy surrounds her. I picked up a glimpse of that when she spoke about just sitting in her workroom. There was something there. I wonder if she'll ever share it with me.

It's her turn to look away. I start to speak, but stop. She looks at me inquisitively, wordlessly urging me to continue.

I clear my throat. "It's just that, well, I'm...I don't have the best track record when it comes to successful relationships."

"Dana, it's okay to be nervous. I was my first time, too; it would seem to be a pretty universal reaction. But this has to be your decision, and you should only do it when you feel ready. Choosing to be with a new person is hard enough, but then we have to deal with all the societal pressures and religious types that tell us what we're doing is wrong, and well, it can be overwhelming."

I wince at the wisdom of her words. "Have you always known that you're a lesbian?"

"I think deep down, yes, although I denied it for a long time. It's not uncommon to find lesbians and gays who were previously in straight relationships, even married, and with children. It's still what society expects from both women and men. It takes courage to go against that, and for some it takes a long time to build up that courage. Know what I mean?"

"Uh huh." I sit up and pull back the covers, silently inviting her to join me. The bed is warm. Here, under the covers, I can feel her heat.

"Give," she demands when I chuckle.

"It's nothing. I had a thought and it made me laugh."

"Yeah, I got that. What was it?"

"Okay. I could feel the heat coming off your body and thought that your aura must be red."

She waits for me to continue obviously figuring there's got to be a punch line coming up. Her eyes widen to let me know she's not seeing the humor yet.

"So, I just thought how Mulder would get a kick out of that. He's the one who's more in tune with, shall I say, the less scientifically grounded phenomena. He'd get a good laugh about me even admitting to the possibility of auras. I can just hear him. 'Dear Diary, Today Agent Scully opened herself up to extreme possibilities.' Then he'd go on to give me a lecture on the Chinese life force, the chi."

Now she's laughing, too. "So, you two really are like the yin and yang then."

"We compliment each other very well."

"I think we have that same potential, Dana. Do you?"

My aura must be red now, too. "Yes."

Searching under the covers, Mel finds my hands.

"We'll take it slow. Give you some time to get used to the idea and work through things in your own mind. Then, if you decide that you want to go through with this, I would ask just two things of you, Dana."

I look at her and nod, indicating for her to continue.

"I want you to stay open, don't close yourself off. If you have concerns, I want to know about them." She squeezes my hands. "I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I have been where you are right now and I can give you the benefit of my experience, but only if you let me in. Can you make me that promise?"

"Yes, I can do that." And I can, I know it. I know I have a reputation of being tight-lipped, but this is different. I want this to work and I'm willing to do whatever it takes. "And the second thing?"

"Don't ever lie to me."

That seems like an odd thing to say; of course, I'm not in the habit of lying myself, but know from personal experience that others have no qualms about it. "I won't," I say, knowing it's a promise I can easily keep. I wonder if some event in the past has prompted this request. Is that the source of her melancholy?

"Did someone lie to you before?" I've obviously touched upon a sensitive subject.

"Yes," she answers, her voice barely above a whisper.

I repeat my earlier pledge as I cradle her in my arms. "I promise I'll never lie to you." I stroke her hair and lay a kiss on her cheek. She sniffles a couple times and takes a few deep breaths. I recognize her actions. She's displaying the same behaviors as I do when the façade has cracked and I'm trying to regroup. It's not an easy process; I'll give her all the time she needs.

I'm holding her in her bed. It seems almost surreal. I've dreamed of sharing this kind of closeness with another person for what seems like years. And now it's here. Granted, it's not exactly how I envisioned it, but it's all part of being with someone and I'm willing to be here for her, no matter what the circumstance. It's so rare that I ever hold anyone, and when it does occur it's usually me on the receiving end of the consoling.

My arms around her, I lay my ear against her back and can hear her beating heart, her breathing is returning to normal. Her body has relaxed. She clears her throat and swipes quickly at her eyes to push away any lingering tears. When she feels secure that she's back in control she pulls away a little.

"Thanks." Her eyes are a tad bloodshot and beginning to puff up a bit and her nose is a little red.

I feel so close to her right now. To be able to share such an intimate moment is special. I'm filled with a feeling I can only describe as love. Not of a romantic nature, just the love one human feels for another. I want to take care of her, nurture her, help to take the hurt away. I pull her back into my arms and ease her down so that her head is on my lap. I want to let her know that she's not alone; there's someone here who cares about her and will not ever betray her. She closes her eyes, relaxing. Today the tables have turned and she is letting me take care of her. We remain in this position for a long while, just being close, our hearts making wordless promises.

Leaning over, I tilt my head so that our lips can touch without banging noses. Her lips move, but I don't hear any sound. Time seems to be standing still. Everything is moving in slow motion. I'm watching her face and see a full range of emotions displayed there. Her brown eyes are moist again, but they appear to be tears of joy. I can feel my eyes tearing up in response. I smile to show her how happy I am. I can't wait any longer. I move the extra millimeter and we are joined. Hmmm. I feel weightless. I have no cares, no worries. And it dawns on me, no nerves. I am completely at ease. The bond we have forged has eradicated all my apprehensions.

Pushing through her lips, I seek out her tongue and she sighs as I slowly trace its length and then massage the insides of her cheeks. Her mouth reminds me of the humid tropics. We continue kissing and exploring until we both have to breathe. If we're not careful, we're going to hyperventilate.

"God, Dana."

We're both a bit breathless. What we are doing and the prospect of what we are about to do, monumental. We kiss again, seemingly unable to get enough of each other. I'm wet with anticipation. I whimper when she breaks the kiss, but she presses our foreheads together.

"What's, what's wrong? Why'd you stop?" I can hardly think.

"Are you sure this is what you want? Now, I mean."

"Very sure." I smile and lie down next to her. "Want to kiss me?" I ask, teasingly.

She pretends to think about it. "Not really." She smiles, her swollen lips testament to our passion.

"You know, it'd be a shame..." I say, purposely letting my voice trail off.

"What would?" she asks, playing along.

I run my finger down the length of her nose. "It's a perfect size for your face. It'd be a shame for it to start growing again."

She pulls my finger into her mouth and gently bites it. I start giggling. That's weird, I don't usually giggle, ever. Then it dawns on me what is causing this phenomenon. I'm having fun. Me. Dana Scully. Fun in bed is not something with which I have a lot of experience. If I recall correctly, it's usually been more of a wham-bam sort of experience. It hasn't included a lot of foreplay. The only real bonding was of a physical nature; it rarely reached an emotional level. I could get used to this.

Mel rolls over on top of me and starts snuggling my neck. Oh God, she's found my favorite spot. Ooooh. A half-squeal, half-moan escapes when she starts licking it. Jesus. I think I may come just from that. My legs twitch beneath her. For a split second I worry that my nerves are back. Nope, I assure myself, just good old-fashioned excitement.

"I want to touch your breasts," she says, sounding short of breath.

My mind is yelling yes, yes, absolutely, yes. I nod. Her hand travels over my chest. My nipples leap to attention at her touch. Our arms and legs are tangled above and below the covers. Her bare leg rubbing against mine is amazingly erotic. She's rubbing from one breast to the other with feather light touches that make me crave more.

Without taking her eyes from mine she slips her hand up under my blouse. I gasp as her skin makes contact with mine. Her hand is soft and she runs it gently across my erect nipples, squeezing first one, then the other. She keeps kissing me. I'm rapidly approaching nirvana.

"I want to taste them," she whispers, her voice as raspy as if she'd been yelling for an extended period of time.

Despite the fact that she just removed her tongue, my mouth is dry. It seems that I have lost the ability to speak. All I can do is nod. Slowly, she withdraws her hand and starts to remove my blouse. When the four buttons have been freed she spreads it open exposing my breasts for her scrutiny.

She gasps. "They are beautiful." I think I detect a look of appreciation in her eyes. My breasts are aching for her as she moves her head down slowly and takes my nipple into the wonderful oasis of her mouth.

Dear God! She's sucking ever so slightly, and her tongue is swirling around my aureole, working steadily toward the hardened tip. My hands clutch at and grip her head, tugging her closer. I don't want her to stop. She must be telepathic. I've never felt anything this amazing. It's hard to think. Why do I want to? I want to feel, just feel. Mel is assisting me with that goal. She moves to my other breast and performs the same astonishing feat. I arch my back to try to get closer to her. Electricity shoots through me much like lightning does a tree in a storm. I'm humming, long and low, and through the haze I can feel Mel smiling against me.

Her hand is drawing swirls on the side of my breast; it tickles and teases all at once. I want her skin on mine. Her breasts touching mine. My fingers travel down her back and I tug at her shirt, pulling it up towards her head. She understands what I'm doing and raises up, releasing my breast with a wet smacking sound. The cool air on it sends a chill through me. I'm trying to hurry; I want her flesh as my blanket.

Mel throws a leg over my stomach and straddles me, her knees pressing against my hips. Tossing her shirt hastily aside, I stare at her breasts. God, I think I've never seen anything as lovely. I look at her for permission to continue. She smiles down at me. I'm unsure, but I refuse to be deterred. Not this time. I want her too much. In an effort to relax, I take a big breath and release it. I must have blown on her breasts because she abruptly sucks air in through her teeth. I watch with amazement as her nipples instantly harden. With slightly shaking hands, I reach up tentatively, and let my fingers trace the outline of her face, my thumbs sweeping over her lips, her throat, and down the slope of her breasts. They feel soft and spongy, but firm. Her nipples that were rosy not more than an eye blink ago are now magically transformed to a reddish-brown.

Oh my God. I'm doing this. I'm making love after what seems like ages. I glance up; her eyes have a faraway look, she's most definitely in an altered state. Her jaw has dropped open and her breathing is ragged. It occurs that this is because of me. I've done this to her. The thought bolsters my courage and I lift up and place little baby kisses all around her breast. I'm not completely sure about what I'm doing, but the fact that I'm even doing anything is a miracle. And I note with a bit of pride that Mel's certainly not complaining.

I squeeze her other nipple between my thumb and finger, not hard, just a little pressure. Mel must like that because she just jerked and moaned all at once. Well, if she liked it that much I'll do it again. This time she tenderly calls my name. I can feel the adrenaline of excitement coursing through me. I focus on calming down. I tell myself to relax. Unlike earlier, now the self-talk works. I move my mouth over to her other breast and apply the same baby kisses to it. But now I'm feeling bolder, and I suck on her nipple and quickly dart my tongue across it. Oh Jesus, it feels good. I repeat the action over and over. The thrill does not diminish. My hand is rubbing over her other breast, pushing gently on her nipple as I pass over it. I don't know which one of us is receiving more pleasure.

I honestly never understood the big attraction men had with breasts until now. Besides the wonderful feeling of closeness with your partner, I think it's an opportunity to reconnect with your earliest memories of being safe and warm in your mother's arms. When you had no fear and nothing could harm you. Receiving nourishment not only for your body, but also for your soul.


"Hmm?" I guess the vibration caused by my answer felt good because she lets out a little puff of air.

"You are wonderful," she says.

I can't help smiling. I don't want to sound self-congratulatory, but I have to agree that I seem to be making all the right moves. Mel squeezes my hips with her knees and, taking me with her, rolls onto the bed, so that we are lying side by side. I close the gap between us and kiss her, deep and long. Our upper bodies are pressed together as our hands continue our mutual pleasuring.

Right now I don't know how things could be any better. I'm totally lost in the moment. I wanted feeling. Well, I got feeling. My body is like one big satellite dish pulling in signals from all my nerve endings and sending them straight to my vagina. I can feel my muscles contracting with anticipated fulfillment. Every inch of me is flush with desire. I bury my face in her shoulder and nuzzle her.

"Are you, aaah, are sure you've never made love to a woman?"

"I don't think that's something I'd forget." I gently bite her earlobe.

She gasps. "So how do you explain the fact that you are driving me out of my mind?"

I laugh. "I can't, guess it's an X-File." She's helped me out of my blouse. Her hands wandering gently over my naked skin.

"How are you holding up?"

I rise up on my elbow and prop my head on my hand. "What do you mean?"

"No nerves?"

"Maybe a few." I chuckle.

"Remember, if you want to stop, it's okay. Don't feel pressured."

"I know and I don't."

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Isn't it apparent?"

"Just checking."

"Mel, I'm having a wonderful time. As a matter of fact, I can truthfully say I'm having the time of my life. You've shown me nothing but kindness since I arrived and your patience has put me totally at ease."

She raises up and gives me a chaste kiss. "I really like you, Dana. I think we can be good together."

Returning her kiss, I say, "I think so, too."

She pulls me back to her and kisses me so thoroughly that I think I'm going to pass out. Jesus. Where did that come from? It was the most toe-curling kiss I've ever had.

"Mel, make love to me."

She searches my eyes and silently asks if I'm sure. I grin and answer with a simple, "Yes."

Reaching under the covers, she slides my shorts down and helps me out of them. She runs her hand slowly up the outside of my leg to my hip and pulls on the waistband of my panties. She gives a tug and starts to pull them down. Breathe. Breathe. I lift up creating space between myself and the bed and wiggle a bit to help her. I'm completely nude under the covers.

"Now you," I say, hoping that my impending nerves will subside when the playing field is leveled.

She quickly obliges. Her shorts and panties come flying out from under the covers. Oh God. This is going to happen.

"You okay?"


"Dana, I think you are magnificent." She strokes my face, then adds, "Not to mention, very brave."

My body is on fire. Mel is above me, her body completely stretched out on mine. Our legs are entwined and we are joined at the hip. I'm breathing too rapidly. Mel is kissing my neck and throat. I shut my eyes and feel her hands raising mine up over my head and down onto the bed, her movements causing our upper torsos to brush against each other. Moving steadily downward, she explores me with her mouth, licking the moisture from my body. If I thought it was good before, now, with nothing separating us, is a hundred times better.

Nothing but skin on skin. Heat generating more heat. I'm wet and getting wetter. Her mouth is sucking on my stomach. Ooooh. Her tongue pushing into my navel causes me to squirm. Lower and lower she goes. She releases my hands and moves hers down my body, caressing and fondling, until settling them on my thighs. Alternating between stroking and gentle scraping, her fingernails travel up and down them. Her nose is buried in the curly hair covering my pelvic bone. I'm trying to remain calm. I want to remember everything.

"You smell great," she murmurs.

I have an unexpected revelation of just how profound that simple statement is. Combined with sight, smell is one of our most powerful inborn tools. If we were animals in the wild this is how we would locate each other, sniffing in the wind to ascertain each other's scent. We would use our stored memory to pick each other out of a pack. Is it any wonder then that all animals smell each other upon meeting? In effect, they are determining if they have come upon a friend or a potential threat to their safety. So, it is no surprise then that we rely on the scent that secrets from our core, the very place where all life begins. An essence from so deep inside us that it can't be covered up. An aroma that is as singularly and fiercely our own as our fingerprints.

"I can hardly wait to taste you," she purrs.

"Then don't," I say, encouraging her.

Help me, Jesus. She pushes my legs apart and runs the tip of her tongue along the inside of my thighs. My body is tingling with expectation. Bells and whistles are going off in my head. My body feels like a four-alarm fire. I want her inside me. I won't be satisfied until she makes me come. I reach down and grab her head and pull her to me, thrusting my hips up into her face. She grasps my wrists and removes my hands from her head. Smiling at me, she tells me to wait a minute. Jesus, not now, don't stop now.

"Do you want to watch?" she asks, continuing to lay kisses on my bare, fevered body.



The slow dawning of what she's proposing intrigues and excites me. The thought had never crossed my mind.

"Watch?" I repeat, wondering if I have come to the right conclusion.

"Watch while I eat you."

My eyes shut briefly as I contemplate the promised sensations. Yet, in those few moments, the remembered pleasures of the flesh come rushing back. I open my eyes and look directly at her.


"Okay, then sit up a bit." She puts a pillow behind me to prop me up against the headboard and then places two under my butt. Smiling, she explains that it will help raise me up so she doesn't kill her neck.

"Still okay?"

I nod.

Obviously satisfied that I'm properly situated for maximum viewing, she scoots back down and flips the covers to the side of the bed. There's another delay while Mel's eyes travel from my head to my toes and back again. She looks sad. Laying gentle kisses on all my scars, the visible ones and some that aren't, she murmurs "I'm so sorry" as she moves from one to the other. I feel my own tears threateningly close to the surface in the face of her sincere sympathy.

Mel slowly works her way back up and kisses me slowly. "Comfy?"

"Uh huh." That must be what she wanted to hear. Her hands roam over me as she continues to kiss me. Her tongue runs over my lips and I'm quickly re-igniting.

I need to research why body parts that are touched in the normal course of a day become so super sensitized when it's another person doing the touching. For instance, my tongue is inside my mouth all day and I never get aroused. So why do I when hers is? And its not as though it requires some build up time. The minute it touches me I'm gone. Oooooh. While I've been musing and making mental notes that very same tongue has found it's way down my body.

I watch as Mel spreads my legs apart and buries her head into me. Jesus H. She's pulling my labia open and running her tongue around the inside of it. Hmm. I can feel her sucking on me, then gently tugging with her teeth while soothing the soft tissue with her tongue. My body is tensing up. I can feel the muscles starting to shake with the strain. I'm glad she suggested me watching; it is extremely arousing, and is truly adding to the experience. Is it possible to be a Peeping Tom when it's your own body? Ahhh.

She's got her mouth completely over me and her tongue is teasing me, darting inside. OhmyGod. She's whispering something as she's licking me; the vibrations from her lips causing me to tingle all over. My legs instinctively wrap around her neck. Her magnificent tongue is sliding in and out of me. She starts out slowly, gradually picking speed and pushing in a little farther each time.

I notice that I'm rubbing my breasts in time with the thrusting of her tongue. Hot. Like an erupting volcano, my lava is flowing. I'm alternating between moaning and whimpering. Reaching down, I twist my hand in her hair. My other hand is tugging and pinching my nipples. Chewing on my bottom lip, I fight to keep my eyes open. My hips have started their own primal dance of lust.

Mel's head is moving rhythmically. She lifts up and looks up at me. Her eyes are dark with desire. Her mouth is glistening with my juices.

"You're delicious," she says, running her tongue over her lips. Oh God.

While I'm watching she slides two fingers into me. Ahhh, I sigh. She pushes them deep within me and then slowly pulls them very nearly out before repeating the process. I beg for more and she obliges, inserting three fingers knotted together inside me, filling me up. I pull my knees up while Mel pushes them apart, her fingers stretch to push against my cervix. OhGod. OhGod. OhGod. I can feel my vaginal walls gripping, begging them to stay buried in the warm cocoon of my body. She moves her mouth to my clit and starts sucking. Holy Mother of God. The feeling is glorious. Eight thousand nerve endings are bundled in that little piece of flesh, and they all seem to be firing at once. I wonder if I'm dead because I have no doubt that I'm in heaven.

I feel and recognize the beginnings of my orgasm. It's always the same. My skin heats up to the point where I think my blood is close to boiling. I experience intense pleasure mixed with a small measure of pain, the kind that would hurt if it didn't feel so good. I have trouble focusing, my breathing becomes ragged, I moan almost constantly, and my body twitches and stiffens then reverses the process, my fingers claw at and clutch fistfuls of sheet.

Thrusting my hips, I grind them into her, my head thrashes from side to side, and there's roaring in my ears as my blood pounds ceaselessly through my body. This is it. Her tongue is flicking over my clit. Teasing it, daring it to explode in ecstasy. It's too much. My entire body is on overload. I'm about to check out. I hear myself scream and it's the last thing I remember.

My next conscious thought is that I am floating in space. My eyes are still closed; my breathing is returning to normal. All my limbs feel weightless. My body is prickling like a foot that's been asleep and is now returning to life. I can feel my cunt still slowly pulsing, reminding me of why I feel the way I do. I'm totally relaxed. I don't have a care in the world. Nothing exists but this, this euphoria.

There's a weight on my stomach. Forcing my eyes open, I see Mel's head resting on me, her dark hair my only covering. I lift my hand and stroke her hair, pushing it back off her face. She tenderly kisses my belly. My body is still warm from the blood pumping rapidly through my veins. Mel kisses her way up my boneless frame and we join our lips. It's gentle and soft and slow, in complete counterpoint to the frenzied activity of a short time ago.

I'm totally satisfied and it's all her doing. I want to tell her so much, but it will have to wait. Right now all I want is to lie here, her arms wrapped around me, her head on my chest. Everything seems to be happening in slow motion. I watch as her head rises and falls with my breathing. She reaches over and pulls the covers over us. We are safe and warm in her bed.

"Sleep," she says and I gladly obey. I am sated, content, and tired. It's been so long since I had any real sex I'd forgotten how strenuous it could be. Sleep seems like the logical next step.

We wake simultaneously, the mid-afternoon sun peeking through the partially shut blinds, our positions unchanged. I lift Mel's chin up towards me and kiss her.

"Thank you for making me so happy," I say.

Her smile stretches from ear to ear, her eyes warm and loving. "It was my pleasure."

"But, you. I didn't--"

"Dana, your pleasure was my pleasure."


"But nothing. Making love to you was, in a word, breathtaking. It was your first time and you chose to give yourself to me. You trusted me to take care of you."

I'm blushing. Mel has joined me on the pillow and we are lying face to face, not more than a few inches apart.

"Watching you while you had your orgasm was quite simply the most exciting thing I've ever experienced." Taking my hand, she continues. "You were open and responsive. You didn't hold back on expressing how you felt or what you wanted. I find that quite a powerful aphrodisiac. I like my partner to feel free to tell me what she wants, what feels good and works for her. And you did that, without reservation."

"That's because you made me feel so safe. I'm not usually so demonstrative," I say, lowering my eyes to escape her bemused gaze. "Being with you was so easy, so right."

We kiss and touch each other tenderly.

"But, I still feel bad that you didn't--"

"Relax, I took care of it while I watched you."


"If it makes you feel better, next time you can do me first. Deal?"


"So, I imagine you'll want to grab a shower before heading to the airport."

I groan. I don't want to leave. I have just had what I would conservatively assess to be the peak sexual experience of my life and now I have to go.

"When will I see you again?"

"Well, I'll be pretty busy with this project for another couple of weeks. Then I'll be coming down to Washington to give a presentation. Can I see you then?"

My heart leaps at the prospect, but I wonder if I can last two weeks without seeing her, touching her.

"Will you stay with me while you're in town?"

"If you're sure, I'd love to."

"I'm sure."

She gets up and for the first time I see her entire body, strong and taut, yet at the same time, soft. She grabs a robe and the object of my desire is hidden from my view. I stifle a cry of regret. Getting up, I head towards the shower.


"Hmm," she answers distractedly.

"Would you like to join me?"

She looks up from her dresser. "Next time." She grins. "If I get in that shower, you'll never get to the airport."

I'm disappointed, but I understand. If I'm going to be home before it gets too late, I've got to get a move on. "Okay. But I'm going to hold you to that promise," I say, smiling and disappearing behind the bathroom door.

When I come back out, Mel greets me with a quick kiss as she passes by and into the bathroom for her shower. Wrapped only in a towel, I gather up my clothes from the floor and head downstairs to change.

I'm just clicking the locks down on my overnight case when Mel reaches the bottom of the stairs.

"Want something to eat before we head out?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry. I'll eat later at home."

"Okay, then. Are you ready to go?"

Reluctantly, I answer, "Yes."

I gather up my things and we head out the door. In the car I have to fight myself to keep from becoming dispirited. We don't say a word all the way to the airport. What could I say that I haven't already, except that I don't want to leave her? I take her hand and lean over to kiss her cheek. She looks at me and I offer up a weak smile.

"What's wrong?"


"Tell me."

I hesitate and remember my promise to be open with my feelings. "I don't want to leave."

"And I don't want you to. But we both have obligations that need our attention. I'll see you in two weeks. And we'll be in touch in between."

"I don't want to lose touch with you, Mel."

"You won't," she says, smiling reassuringly.

We arrive at the airport. Pulling into one of the metered spots, Mel shuts off the car engine.

"Dana, I'm not going to let you out of my life. This weekend was just the beginning. I want us to really get to know each other. Being with you was just what I needed. These last couple of years I've closed myself down for various reasons, but I feel that I'm about to be reborn and it's all due to you. So, please, don't worry."

I listen to what she says and try to heed her advice. "Mel, let's say our good-byes here."

When our lips meet it's different. There's a feeling that something big is about to begin. Something that I never would have predicted in a thousand years. Yet, it is something I want. We have no need to utter words; our tongues are saying everything for us. Finally, we break apart.

"Come on," she says, getting out of the car.

I grab my bag from the back seat and we go into the terminal and wait for the boarding call. I make her promise again that she will stay with me when she gets to D.C.

Now, after just a little over twenty-four hours, we part as we greeted, holding hands. Except that unlike before, this time my hands are warm.


FEEDBACK? I'D LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU! x-file_addict@msn.com

On to part 5, The Visit