Is it normal to get this wet? Yes, I’m a Doctor of Medicine, but I’m having trouble remembering learning what the ‘healthy amount of vaginal discharge secreted by a female, seated in a boring FBI debriefing, whilst sitting too close to her handsome partner, smelling him, and thinking about him bending her over a desk and fucking her good and proper’ is. I must have missed that lecture. Anyway, if I were a subject in a study on the matter, I dare say I’d be on the diminished end of the bell curve, represented as far along the X axis as possible. The small percentage, whose volume is considered well above average.
I wish he would stop sucking on those sunflower seeds. He’s driving me to distraction. No, actually, I wish I was one of those sunflower seeds. Argh, another gush. I’m going to have to start packing spare undies in my handbag. Hmmm, maybe I’ll pop out and buy some panty liners at lunch.
I wish he would stop leaning in so close to whisper irrelevant nonsense to me. That is unless, next time he does it, he sticks his tongue in my ear.
I might start bringing my mini vibrator to work. The one that, to the untrained eye, could pass as something cosmetic. Pack it in a little zip up purse, along with the panty liners. A Mulder-turns-me-on-at-work survival kit, of sorts. Quick nip to the toilets and I’d be able to get back to work; concentrate for the rest of the day. What else would I put in there? Tissues for easy clean-up, that spare pair of knickers I mentioned…. I could start marketing them; flog them in the fourth-floor loos, to the secretary pool.
I wonder, does he want to fuck me as much as I want to fuck him? I know he wants to. But, that's nothing special, I think there're a few people he'd screw, if they’d let him. I certainly know a secretary or two that would. But me, I just want him.
Oh, shit, Skinner just said my name, twice. I’m pretty sure they were punctuated with question marks… Mulder is leaning in and saying it too. Don’t repeat my fucking name Mulder! Tell me what I missed!
I can feel his hot breath on my neck, him telling me to ‘just say yes’.
“Yes,” I say and give an affirmative nod. And then an “uh-hu” for good measure. Yep, totally know what the fuck’s going on here.
All of a sudden everyone is getting up around me. I follow suit. Mulder is giving me the cutest goddamn smirk. Death by smirk. That’s a thing, right?
And now his hand is on my back. When did I give off the signal to him that I don’t know how to navigate my way out of a room? That I needed a Mulder shaped rudder? Actually, I like it. But I wish that the Mulder-Shaped-Rudder did more to me than just touch me over my clothes, on my lower back, above where my tattoo is. I did that on purpose. I’m sure he doesn’t know. Mark the occasion. Or mark the place on my body he has touched more times than any other…
“Ok, what did I just say yes to?” I whisper up to his beautiful face. (Jesus, I’ve got it bad, usually I’m a lot better at not indulging these thoughts. Today I’m not even trying.) He’s smirking down at me again, so close I’m practically tucked under his arm; the hall way to the elevator crowded with agents leaving the meeting.
He tells me Skinner wants me to do the autopsy of one of the victims of the riveting case we were all just told about. What the fuck is wrong with me. Get a grip and do your job for Christ's sake. I tell him thanks, and now he wants to know where the hell I was back there.
“Just thinking about my Dad, it’s coming up to the anniversary of his death.” Fuck, good one Dana. Let’s kill the mood by bringing up dead parents. I am definitely going to hell.
I need to get back to office, grab my purse and get out of here for a minute. Alone. Buy some knickers and a coffee. They’re a usual combo aren’t they. Go together like tea and scones? I’ll have a coffee, for my fractious nerves, and a pair of knickers, for my gushing pussy! ‘Name to go with the order?’, ‘Um, just put down ‘Nymphomaniac-with-no-self-control, Nympho will do fine.”
Jesus, I’m backed up into the corner of a very crowded elevator. Well, backed up into Mulder, who’s backed up into the corner, of a very crowded elevator. We have to go all the way to the basement, you arseholes – take the stairs!
Oh my God. When I said I needed to bring spare knickers to work – spare slacks anyone? I’m a size 4, petite. A boner. A Mulder boner, in my back. I’m going to do something completely wicked and feign innocence. Oh, sorry Mulder’s boner, I didn’t mean to accidently grind my back into you, I swear.
“Sorry, Mulder” I manage. He got harder. Definitely harder. He moaned too. I heard it. I sexy moan, not an ‘I’m injured’ moan. It’s been a while, but I know the difference.
His hands are on my shoulders. Just breathe Dana. His fingers are so long, and I’m so ridiculously small, that the tips land just at the place where my breasts begin to swell. I either want this elevator ride to travel to the centre of the Earth, or I need to get off, right-fucking-now!