From: To: Subject: [XFWIPFIC] New WIP The Flower Garden 2/? Date: Monday, 19 November 2001 6:11 TITLE: The Flower Garden 2/? BY: SEEKERONE And LEELEE RATING: NC-17. Like with all our stories, the whole series will certainly steam up the monitor. Lots of steamy sex, a spanking or two, a whorehouse and so on. If you're under 18, shoo on away, right now! You will be carded. I don't want to hear from you and I don't want to hear from your Momma. CATEGORY: Skinner/O.F., Mulder/Scully (Well. . . Sort of.). Historical AU SETTING: Our own little examination of the War Between the States, sometimes known to the United Daughters of the Confederacy as "The Late Unpleasantness." ARCHIVE: Probably. Just ask. COMMENTS: Here are the redeeming historical tidbits for those so inclined – Les Fleurs du Sud were flower gardens planted surreptitiously in New Orleans. When the red, white and blue flowers bloomed, the shapes symbolized the national flag of the Confederacy. It was another way the ladies of New Orleans showed their defiance of the occupying Union forces. The company of Goodyear and Hancock (yes, the same Goodyear who later made tires) manufactured condoms of vulcanized rubber in 1844. They were advertised in New York papers in 1861 as the "French Preventatives." The cost about .10 and unfortunately were often reused. Given the amount of inflation in the 150 years, you can figure that today's equivalent price would be 16 to 20 times the cost mentioned in the story. So the cost of an evening of pleasure at The Flower Garden would be $500 - $1,000 in today's money. And given the fact the house requires payment in gold, not greenbacks, the actual value would be even higher. All the music mentioned was popular during the war. "Riding the Raid" was written about Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson and James "Jeb" Stuart, two of the South's most able generals. "The Battle Cry of Freedom" was first performed at a rally in Chicago, shortly after the battle of Shiloh. "Dixie" was actually written by a Yankee, Dan Decautur Emmett, for a minstrel show in 1859. SUMMARY: Skinner and Mulder visit The Flower Garden. SPOILERS: Don't think the surfer dude ever EVEN thought about this. DISCLAIMERS: Skinner, Spender, Fox, Scully, Pendrell and the Russian are all you know whose. The rest are all ours, with some genuine historical characters who decided to visit, such as most of the military officers on both sides. The majority of the battles, manners and other events are actual history as well. FEEDBACK: Worshipped, adored, read and reread again and again. Drop us a note and let us know what you think about this chapter or the whole series: clueseek@swbell.net or Viceyy@aol.com And, until we get our long delayed web site up, if you'd like to have new chapters of whatever story we're working on sent directly to you, subscribe to our broadcast list -- The Southern Ladies Smut Writers Association. Just send an e-mail to: slswa-subscribe@yahoogroups.com Chapter 2 "It is thought to be discreditable to a woman even to know of their existence. You may not mention them in public. You may not allude to them in a book without staining its pages. Our sisters, whose poverty is caused by the oppressions of society, who are driven to sin by want of bread, then regarded with scorn and turned away from with contempt! I appeal to you on their behalf, my friends. Is it not time to throw open to women, equal resources with men, for obtaining honest employment?" Remarks(Ladies did not make speeches in those days)by Miss Abby Price The 1850 Emancipation and Women's Rights Convention Le Vieux Carre Occupied City of New Orleans February, 1865 "I done ker who you are. You ain't comin' in here." The old black man was short, barely reaching to Skinner's chin, but he shook his fist in their faces with angry determination. His neatly pressed black sack suit was almost as aged as he was and his hair was certainly whiter than his shirt. The two Union officers stared at him in stupefaction. They had enjoyed a pleasant Creole dinner before making their way down to the small alley off Royal Street. Lt. Mulder had told Major Skinner about Les Fleurs du Sud shortly after his arrival in New Orleans and that he considered it a possible hiding place for smuggled drugs. As they walked companionably down the darkened street, Skinner had grown excited at the thought of some "horizontal recreation." The thought of spending the evening with a tired, filthy whore of questionable hygiene held no appeal to him, even as part of an ongoing investigation. But according to Mulder this was a classy and very expensive bagnio. He saw the wrought iron doorway set discretely into the modest, stucco building and felt that this was no cheap, garish whorehouse. The only thing that distinguished the building from surrounding ones was a little bouquet of flowers painted above the entrance. A quick tug on the brass chain, ringing the bell had admitted them into an undersized front hall. Stepping inside, Skinner was surrounded by the soft yellow glow of candlelight reflecting against old gilt mirrors on cream colored walls. It was obvious the worn brick floor and small mahogany table were frequently and lovingly polished. Bouquets of flowers were on every surface and the fragrant blooms filled the air with a subtle and pleasant scent. From across the hallway came the delicate sounds of feminine laughter and the click of glasses. All the sights and sounds indicated an enjoyable evening for a select few. But the butler refused to admit them to the house. "Look if it's a matter of payment, I'll stand for Major Skinner," Lieutenant Mulder began, but was cut off before he could pull out his wallet. "It hain't bout no money," the elderly man began stubbornly. "Miss Dandelion been looking fur you all evening. But she. ." "Is there a problem, Payne?" came a warm contralto voice from the top of the stairs. Skinner looked up in surprise. The woman standing there was obviously tall, with black hair pulled up in a chignon with ringlets. A large mask made of black feathers covering her face. The dark red, heavy satin ball gown whispered of hidden female mysteries as she carefully descended the stairs. She strolled confidently toward the waiting men, head held high and fan held just at the proper angle. The tightly restricted corset had pushed her firm breasts up until they were almost free of the bodice. Her fair skin seemed to invite a careful and thorough exploration of her cleavage. Skinner was growing hard at the sight of her. She was just the type of woman that appealed to him. He'd had his fill of blushing innocent roses with eager eyes and soft hearts. His hard life led him to prefer women of the world with the strength to meet his passions and the ability to protect themselves from his indifference. "Madame Jardinier," Mulder took off his hat and bowed. The woman dropped her head in a stately nod, courteously acknowledging him. "May I present Major Walter Skinner, who is new to your fair city." "Welcome to Les Fleurs du Sud, Major Skinner." The lady imperiously held forth her hand for Skinner to kiss. He caught a twinkle in her laughing brown eyes as he accepted her hand. All right, missy, he thought, let's see what you're made of. Instead of the expected discrete gesture, he turned her wrist over and unbuttoned the tight kidskin. Keeping his eyes on her face, he slowly stripped the long glove from her arm. A red flush crept up her neck and he felt the pulse in her wrist jump in response to his touch. With a lazy grin, he pulled her hand up toward his mouth and placed a firm kiss on it. The skin was rougher than a lady's should be. Hmm, you work with these hands, he thought. His imagination immediately thought of the feel of those slightly rough fingers on his cock, stroking him, teasing him. His eyes challenged hers across their hands, as he caught the heady scent of gardenias, a hint of spice, and the warm smell of woman. He was already hard just at the thought of this woman lying beneath him, her nipples erect and just brushing his chest as he thrust into her. The lady tossed her head in mock annoyance at his impertinence and rapped his knuckles smartly with her fan. "Indeed, sir. You attack southern fortifications as blatantly as General Hancock." "Perhaps, I am equally desirous of their surrender," Skinner responded while stepping back and running his eyes down her body. He idly flipped the long kid glove back and forth in his hand. "Harrumph," she commented with an unladylike snort and turned to the old butler. "Payne, why have these gentleman not selected their . . flowers for the evening?" "That's the problem I'se trying to 'splain. Miss Dandelion's here awaiting for Lt. Mulder, but she's the last 'un. Everybody else done been picked." The old man's mahogany skin flushed dark as the old furniture in his indignation. "Well Major, it seems you will have to join us another evening." A sly smile crossed her face and she added, "Unless, of course, Lt. Mulder doesn't mind you joining him." A threesome with Mulder? The young man shifted uneasily beside him but Skinner refused to look at him. He'd shared women before with brother officers, each one trying to outdo the other until everyone collapsed in a sweaty, exhausted heap. But somehow he didn't want that tonight. What he wanted was right in front of him, and he didn't want to share it with anybody. In fact, the way he was feeling, the way his body was responding to her, she might not be able to share her favors with another man for quite a while. "What about you?" Skinner asked abruptly looking deep into her brown eyes, dramatically outlined by her mask. "Me?" she replied, her fan suddenly still, her husky voice a tone higher. "Don't you ever accept an . . offer?" the Major inquired with a lifted eyebrow. "Double the usual price." The lady licked her upper lip, hesitating. "I don't. . that is. . I've never. . " She tilted her head as if considering his offer and Skinner went in for the kill. "Well? Why not?" he asked with just the right amount of command and impatience in his voice. The woman gave him back a look that told him she knew exactly what he was doing. She was a master at this game and Skinner felt another surge of lust for her. Yes, she was just what he wanted. An indestructible. Her regal nod signaled her capitulation. "Very well, Major. Double the price. Fifty dollars in gold, no script, no greenbacks." Mulder was right, Skinner thought grimly. Most shrewd business people didn't think the paper money was worth wiping their ass with. As he reached for his flat wallet, she continued. "And the house rules are inviolate. You will not remove my mask under any circumstance and I will leave you sometime before dawn. And last, but not least, you will use the French protection." "What?" Skinner thundered in disbelief. He hated the touch of blasted rubber. The thought of not feeling her, not feeling all of her wetness around him was almost enough to make him change his mind. She was just so damn beautiful and he wanted her from the moment he laid eyes on her. "My ladies are clean, sir. If you can afford my company, you can spend the coin for the . . . the. . " the fan fluttered back and forth in agitation. "Money is not the issue. The damn things are an armor against pleasure, and a cobweb against infection!" "Never the less, sir, you will use them if . ." she began. "I should buy stock in Goodyear and Hancock," he muttered. "Very well, my dear. Agreed," he concurred, reclaiming her restless hand and tucking it possessively under his arm. He felt her shiver again. Payne pocketed the golden eagles and double eagles from both men and moved to bar the front door for the night. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing upstairs. "Come into the parlor for a few moments," her voice quavered slightly. "I must greet my guests for the evening and offer you refreshments." He pulled her close and strolled toward the room she indicated. He'd take her refreshments, but his patience could last only so long. Major Walter Skinner had a burning fire inside him and he wanted to see if this belle could stand the heat. x x x x x x x x A riot of noise and light greeted them as they entered the exquisite parlor. Be damned, Skinner thought at the number of blue Union uniforms. You might as well hold roll call. Every ranking officer in the city was here from artillery, infantry, to the cavalry and even a few medical men. At a quick glance, there were perhaps twenty-five or thirty men in the long room and an equal number of women in ball gowns, wearing large feathered masks. Everyone was relaxed sitting on a variety of couches and chairs, small tables readily placed to hold food or drink. The remains of a buffet dinner on a Sheraton sideboard and a large dining room table indicated that the party had reached the stage of comfort and satisfaction. Cigar smoke was heavy in the air, along with the click of crystal glasses as more beverages were poured. Laughter and loud voices mixed with the slap of cards and the clatter of dice. Hmm poker, faro and chuck-a-luck . . Skinner thought. Other ways to separate a soldier from his pay. Madame Jardinier was not only beautiful but also a shrewd businesswoman. "Mulder," came a delighted voice to his right. He caught a quick glimpse of a petite red headed woman as she threw her arms around the lieutenant's neck. "I've missed you, you bad boy. Why haven't you been back to see me?" she exclaimed while nuzzling his cheek. Mulder gave her a quick kiss. "Well, I've been kept extremely busy. I'd like you to meet my new commanding officer, Major Skinner. Major, this is Miss Dandelion." Bright blue eyes, the same color as her silk gown, peeped out through the outrageous white feather mask. "Major. Welcome," she said extending her hand. Well named, Skinner thought. The light red braided hair did remind him of a lion's mane. He noted that Mulder kept a proprietary arm around her shoulders as he bent down to kiss the properly placed hand. Don't worry boy, I have designs on a high-flying strumpet tonight. Suddenly he noticed the absence of his hostess. Now where the devil had that attractive armful gone? He continued to make polite small talk as Mulder brought them both a drink. No cheap Monongahela rotgut here, he thought as he sipped, continuing to scan the room. Les Fleurs treated their customers well. Dandelion had pasted herself to the Lieutenant's side, both of them focused intently on one another. Skinner could tell that it was only courtesy that kept Mulder from ignoring him. "Major Skinner," came a very gruff male voice. "I see you are taking in the finer pleasures of the city." "General Spender," Skinner and Mulder both came to attention, acknowledging their superior officer. "Oh at ease, gentlemen," he said without bothering to remove the cigar from his mouth. The man was only slightly better turned out than the last time Skinner had seen him. "Pansy, here, will be the one taking orders this evening," he nodded negligently at the dimpled blonde beside him. Skinner could see the scared look in the young woman's eyes behind her mask and felt some compassion for her. Spender had the personality of someone who wouldn't be gentle with such a tender young thing. The sudden notes of Chopin's Prelude in A filled the room from the pianoforte in the corner. Goddamnit Skinner thought, grinding his teeth at the memories the lilting tune brought back. Jackson used to play that. It was their Mother's favorite music, just like his late younger brother was her favorite son. I do not want to hear that damn thing tonight, no matter how short it is, he decided. Leaving the General without saying another word, he pushed his way toward the instrument and saw with annoyance who was playing. Of course, it would be Madame. What the hell was her first name anyway, he wondered? I can't call her Jardinier in bed. She sat on the long stool, her back arched with perfect posture. He fought back a wave of irritation. A proper, piano playing miss was not what he wanted tonight. He dropped his hand on a bare white shoulder and growled in her ear. "I did not come here to socialize with half the Union army, nor to hear you play that insipid rattle." Madame shivered slightly at his rough touch. Dear lord, what had she gotten herself into? Then she remembered her father, quoting Napoleon's advice to his generals, "Audacity, audacity, always audacity." Courage, ma petite, she thought. "Oh really," came the arrogant reply, followed by a quick toss of her head. "Perhaps you would prefer this to Chopin?" With a quick harmony of transition, she began in sing in a strong alto as the room fell silent. "'Tis Stonewall, the Rebel, who leans on his sword, And while we are mounting, prays low to the Lord, Now each cavalier who loves honor and right, Let him follow the feather of Stuart tonight. Come tighten your girth and slacken your rein, Buckle your blanket and holster again. Try the click of your trigger and balance your blade, For he must ride sure who goes riding the raid." The last chord echoed in a room as still as a church. Skinner glared down at her in disbelief. The brazen hussy. How dare she? Before anyone else could move or comment, Mulder jostled his way to the piano and sat down beside her with a quick laugh. "Now it's our turn, I believe" and at her gesture, he slid into place at the keyboard. His pleasant baritone voice was soon joined by the rest of the men in the room. "Yes, we'll rally 'round the flag, boys, we'll rally once again, Shout, Shout the Battle Cry of Freedom, We will rally from the hillside, we'll gather from the plain, Shout, Shout the Battle Cry of Freedom. The Union forever! Hurrah, Boys, Hurrah! Down with the Traitor, Up with the Star. Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys, we'll rally once again, Shout, Shout the Battle Cry of Freedom." "Well," Madame commented dryly as the last cheers died down, pushing him aside. "I think you might enjoy this. ." Oh, I wish I was in the land of Cotton--Old times there are not forgotten Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land In Dixie Land where I was born in early on one frosty mornin' Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land Suddenly every woman in the room was standing and singing: Then I wish I was in Dixie. Hooray! Hooray! In Dixie Land I'll take my stand: To live and die for Dixie! Away! Away! Away down south in Dixie. Away! Away! Away down south in Dixie. Skinner noted that the men in the room didn't seem to be bothered by this blatant display. The lure of complacent women and good whiskey was more important than any patriotism they might have felt. It infuriated him that their so-called cause could be so easily forgotten in the face of these comforts. "Enough," Skinner roared as the last chords were played. He quickly grabbed his tormentor up from the piano and tossed her over his shoulder. The red satin and crinolines bellowed up and charming lace pantalets were displayed to the laughing company. Ignoring the shrieks of indignation from her and the cheers of his fellow officers, he strolled from the room toward the hallway and upstairs. End of Chapter Two ------------------------ Yahoo! Groups Sponsor ---------------------~--> Universal Inkjet Refill Kit $29.95 Refill any ink cartridge for less! 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