The music was pumping so loud that it seemed to reverberate
inside me, each beat almost causing me pain. I didn't recognise
the song playing. Something loud, fast, and psychadelic. Not really
my sort of scene. Music-wise, anyway.
Behind me, there was a crash, and I turned, hand instinctively
going for my gun. Before I could draw it, I paused, and
immediately burst into hysterical laughter.
Fox Mulder.
Stumbling about on one leg, adjusting his pantihose.
It took me a good minute to regain my composure, by which time,
Mulder had done likewise, and was about to set off down the hall. I
put out a hand to stop him, clutching his arm. I grinned.
He was dressed as a woman, completely. His tan pantihose left
nothing to the imagination, revealing that he had shaved his legs.
His skirt was short and tight, a strange colour that was neither
black nor anything else, but fell somewhere in between, like black
left in the sun for too long. The shirt was silver, short, revealing his
stomach, which I had to admit looked nothing like a woman's. I let
my eyes linger on his impressive chest, then go up to his face.
His hair was obviously a wig: it had been moved about by his
almost-drunken looking stumblings. I reached up to adjust it for
him, and he grabbed my hand, bracelets clinking together.
"What the hell are you doing here, Krycek?"
He recognised me, and took this long to have a physical reaction?
I grinned back. "I think, right now, I have more of a right to be here
than you, don't I?"
"I have a show to do," he replied, pushing past me.
I snickered. "I'll pay for a private one."
Mulder turned around. "Get out of here. Now."
"I didn't know you did this in your spare time, really. I thought it
was all porn and sunflower seeds."
"I'm on assignment."
"Uh huh. Sure you are." I walked up to him, slipping a hand around
to clutch his ass. "What, someone reported an Unidentified Flying
Orgasm, and you had to come and investigate? Hell, if that's all it
takes to get you dressed as a woman, I've got a gun in my
pocket..."
Hand flying around to his rear to grab me by the wrist, he looked
me in the eyes. "You're one sick little fuck."
"Yeah, but I'm not the sick little fuck here who's dressed up all
pretty."
As we locked eyes, I registered the fact that he wasn't tugging my
hand away from his ass, but instead holding it there, and stroking
a little. Mulder smiled a little. "You want a private show?"
"You're offering?" I watched him, eyes making their way down to
the growing bulge under the tight miniskirt.
"I don't know if you can afford what I have to give."
I snorted. "I can afford your come."
Mulder grinned slowly. "Let me sign out, I'll meet you by the door."
That was all it was going to take? I nodded, reluctantly letting his
ass go. Giving me a seductive little flutter of fingers, he left,
swaying his hips. I grinned happily, going to the door to wait.
The night outside was oppressing, and cold. There weren't any
stars, and the only light came from the bright, flashing neon signs.
I stayed there, hugging myself into my jacket.
After five minutes of nothing, there were the telltale lights and
sounds of a car starting up, and pulling out. Slightly stunned, I
watched it. Mulder's car. Headed back to his place.
For a minute, I was silent, until I chuckled. Let him have fun
explaining to his landlord why he was in drag.
And he was going to have to.
Because I'd taken his apartment keys.
The End
The Price Is High
by Fleur
I leaned against the doorframe, watching the show on the stage. I
never get involved, never go any further than the door. The largest
part of that is because I like watching the girls going up next, filing
past me.
