JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (7/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

See disclaimer in Chapter 1.

Chapter 7

     The bath would have been large by the standards of any
mansion. The architecture boasted straight, pure lines but the
decoration was rich in jewel-like colors. The thick, fur-like rug
was antique gold, the fixtures deep red, the tile azure blue, and
the drapes and lush towels of a kind of green that is only found
deep in forests where no man has trod for generations, if ever.
The
drapes along one wall were closed so the only light came from
skylights slanting in from the side, which were possible
because of
the sloping of the Cavern's volcano-like outer walls. All was
reflected back in a crystal mirror that spanned the length of one
entire wall.

     After one glance at his own stooped posture and sickly
pallor
Mulder avoided the mirror. Instead he stared at the pool at his
feet. He couldn't for a moment think of it as bathtub. Its blood-
red shell was set like a ruby below the level of the thick golden
rug. Floating, even with arms stretched out, he could not hope to
touch the sides.

     "Yes, it 'jacuzz-es'," Jake said answering the unasked
question, "and you can have it with or without minerals though
I've
chosen it with none and, as the water circulates, it's not only
warmed but cleaned. Ten people could bath here over a day and the
water would never be dirty or get cold. The technology is state
of
the art. The most ways the island is rich but its fresh water
supply is not unlimited."

     Mulder was clearly hesitant about entering the bath. It
wasn't
that he didn't feel there was a need. He was all too aware of his
own foul odor. It was the mechanics of getting in without
breaking
his neck. Even with the railing, the steps were slippery and his
balance none too good. After trying every other way to lend a
hand,
Jake finally gave up and dropped the short robe he had worn
carelessly since their meeting on the balcony and stepped into
the
steaming, fragrant water to help Mulder in. The warmth felt
wonderful and Jake had to admit that after Alex's middle-of-the-
night party, he needed a wash nearly as much as Mulder did. It
was
almost as much of a pleasure for Jake to watch Mulder's face as
he
sank up to his neck. Considering the aches and pains of
withdrawal
he must be suffering and the fact that he had risen from his bed
far too soon, the sudden comfort was going to turn his brain to
mush very quickly. Unfortunately, Mulder's ability to keep a grip
on the soap proved no better than his balance. After diving under
to retrieve the slippery object for the tenth time, Jake finally
gave up and began to vigorously scrub the sick man himself.

     Drooping with exhaustion, physical and mental, Mulder's
protest that he wasn't a child and could wash himself was half-
hearted at best so Jake just worked to finish the job as
quickly as
he could.

     'Where Mulder needs to be is in bed,' Jake told himself
though
he knew the real reason for his haste. At any moment a storm of a
very unique nature could announce itself. Over the last few
minutes, the tension in the room had risen like unheard thunder
on
the horizon. How she would manifest herself this time, Jake
couldn't predict - her tactics were infinitely variable - but
they
were always subtle. She'd become an expert at sneaking in under
his
guard.

     As he worked, Jake found himself marveling once again at the
body between his hands. How was it possible that two strangers
could be so alike? As he shampooed the fine hair, Jake noted that
it was definitely longer than Agent Mulder would wear it,
though it
was the same texture as his own. The scars were different, of
course, and there was that difference in the shade of green about
the eyes. Other than that, they had the same length of arm and
breadth of hand, the same slender musician's fingers, the same
width across the shoulders, the same flat, hard stomach, and
slender hips. And then there was that smoothness of skin on the
barely furred chest...

     Jake's hands had slowed, begun to take their time. Mulder
seemed to be more than half asleep, his dreamy eyes closed. He
didn't seem bothered by any of this exploration. As Jake's
fingers
inched forward to eventually circle a rosy nipples in enthralled
fascination, Mulder moaned but didn't pull away, On the contrary,
he shifted more closely so more of his skin made contact with
Jake's. Jake's smiled like a cat that had just mesmerized its
prey.

     This was going to be _so_ easy.

     Yes, so easy... for Her.

     Jake shook himself violently as if trying to wake. With an
oath he took the other man by the shoulder and harshly spun him
around. On Mulder's face was an insipid, child-like expression,
one
Jake had seen too often before on her victims' faces.

     "Damn you, stop it!" Even as he swore, Jake's hands flew
up as
he propelled himself backwards causing a great wave that sloshed
out onto the expensive carpeting. He had thrown himself away from
Mulder as if the agent's skin burned or one of them had the
plague.
Slipping and staggering, Jake fought his way through the pool to
the edge. Not even bothering to find the steps, he threw himself
out to land writhing and convulsing like some huge fish out of
water. Working closely with the crews on construction sites, Jake
had learned to curse effectively in a variety of languages. He
did
so now and with fury between clenched teeth.

     "He's suffered enough!"

     Jake's abrupt, rough handling and unexpected departure had
roused Mulder from his dream though it was a slow waking. Both
stunned and curious, he drifted to the steps and climbed two of
them all the time moving in slow motion. Unconscious of his
nakedness and dripping, he stood and looked down at Jake. This
odd
twin of his was lying on the fur rug, curled on his side, his
body
jerking in small convulsions. Even as he cursed, Jake's hands
were
moving over his own body in the most erotic fashion as if those
hands had a life of their own. On his face was livid hate but it
flickered quickly to be replaced one minute with sensuous
pleasure
and the next with hopeless despair. All the while, tears ran down
from the corners of his eyes to mingle with remaining droplets of
pool water on his skin.

     As Mulder stared, his face quickly lost that enchanted
blankness. The sight at his feet stirred a long-forgotten
reaction,
not physical but mental. His expression showed no small amount of
distress as if it was hard to think back three months of his own
hell to when such a spectacle would have meant one thing and one
thing only. Here was an investigation to begin, a mystery to
solve,
a case to file, a report to write. Here was an X-File. His brain
was already categorizing what he was seeing before him. It seemed
to be a classic example of demonic possession, in this case most
likely a succubus...

     As quickly as it came, the detachment vanished. This wasn't
just another X-File. This was Jake and a lifetime before when
he'd
first met Jake strange things had happened. Strange...
personal...
things.

     Even in the damp, warm room Mulder's skin broke out in
gooseflesh, his blood going as cold as that time he had nearly
frozen to death above the Arctic Circle.

     "Alex..." he whispered and staggered up the remaining
steps on
numb feet to drop to his knees at Jake's side. As he attempted to
reach out, Jake rolled frantically away even as he right hand
continued to jerk at his engorged cock. There was no pleasure on
his face, however, only disgust.

     "Don't... Get out of here... Run.. as fast as you can...
Anywhere..."

     Mulder started as at that moment a livid red mark appeared
on
Jake's chest. It was like a burning hand had just tried to pluck
out his heart. Jake's back arched in agony, his scream largely
swallowed in his rigid throat.

     "Jake, it's Alex, isn't it? Isn't it?"

     The tortured face only relaxed for the briefest moment,
allowing him to look for that instant again like the Jake Mulder
knew. This time, however, it was a pleading Jake.

     "Go..." came the strangled cry.

     "Is she why you came here? She forces you do to this doesn't
she? All these strangers.... All this... Jake, do you think you
can
bargain with the devil? You can't. I know I've tried. "

     "Don't... pity... me," Jake snarled, the tone and the words
incongruous with another spasm of mixed ecstasy and torment. As
Mulder remained stubbornly by, making no move to 'get away',
Jake's
face gradually relaxed just a little. The smile he turned on
Mulder
was agony to look upon. Part seduction, part pleasure, part pain.

     And only a small part was Jake.

     With effort he rolled over so he was on his side, still
curled
but facing Mulder this time. For the moment at least, he lay
still
and panting. A reprieve.

     "You never asked what I was doing here." His voice was
barely
a whisper, hard to understand. "You assumed I was a guest, one of
the clients, grazing these fertile pastures at my leisure." Jake
reached out with his left arm to snag Mulder's. He held them both
up, red bracelet and green. "You never noticed, but then maybe
you
don't even know what yours means. Mulder, I'm not that different
from you." From his throat came a short but horrible laugh. "The
only difference is I enslaved myself, legal contract and all. And
anyone of those rich, fat clients can have me anytime they want.
And they want - oh, how they want. Alex has seen to that. I'm
very
popular." His lip curled in a brittle smile. "That's why I can't
just pick up a phone and call Scully. I didn't lie to you, Fox.
Thralls don't have those kind of rights."

     The speech had been as bitter as the gall that rose in
Mulder's throat as more and more of the blotches appeared on
Jake's
wet, naked skin. He writhed as each area reddened and stayed
livid.

     "Alex, stop it!" Mulder demanded, staring left, right,
above.

     Jake rolled over onto his back, his mouth open as if he
would
laugh again but at that moment an unseen mouth closed over his
right nipple. By the way the skin distended, something was
sucking
as if it would drain away his very life. Helplessly, Mulder's
hands
clasped and unclasped. He already knew that telling Alex to stop
was like shouting to a meteor the size of Texas that was falling
right at you to move.

     She would have what she would have... or something just as
good.

     "Mulder..." It was Jake but the sound was barely a word as
though there was scant air in his lungs. "I said go! Out of this
room, out of this apartment, anywhere. Lock yourself in one of
the
bedrooms but go!"

     Mulder's reply was unimaginably reasonable. "No. Do you
think
I would honestly leave you like this? Why didn't you call after
Washington and let me know. She was passive, a voyeur, before our
little time together in Washington. You didn't even know you were
being haunted until then. Even though it wasn't intentional, I'm
the one who let genie know it was safe to come out of the bottle,
and so, no, I won't run, not from this." Mulder's lips produced a
smile to match Jake's fragile one as Mulder stretched out his
hand.
"Alex, leave him alone. You've done enough."

     Jake wanted to scream at this idiot, but he was rapidly
losing
his own battle. He was so tired of fighting her. Besides, he had
went face to face with Agent Mulder once before about what a fool
thing the man wanted to do out of honor and guilt and Mulder had
won then by sheer stubbornness - and a good deal of trickery.
Jake
would lose this one, too. It was inevitable.

     Alex would have her will in the end.

     Mulder's eyes drifted to the bathpool and back, remembering.
Something more than pleasure had had been transferred to him from
Jake's hands. It had only been for a moment just before Jake
pulled
away and Mulder had been lulled nearly to sleep, but now it made
sense.

     "Is it me she wants?"

     Jake's lips drew back, tight like something feral. "Oh, yes,
Like a cat with a bird she can torture she wants you... But you
can't -"

     "Why not? Remember Alex and I have been together before. A
really erotic wet dream, that's all I thought it was at first."

     "And she killed two people. Now you want to invite her in."

     Mulder rolled his eyes. "All right. She's disturbed, but if
you've stood it for all these months I can bear up under it once.
Besides, she literally saved my ass then, probably my life. I
guess
I feel I owe her for that."

      Inside, what was left of Jake's reason vainly shook its
head
back and forth. Stupid, stupid. This was not going to be like the
last time - Alex had grown considerably more aggressive and
inventive since then - but Mulder would never believe that.
Wearily, Jake sighed, denial useless. He had control enough now
to
at least make that little sound on his own. Since Mulder had made
his decision to go along Alex had grown quiet, but Jake knew all
too well that such quiet was an illusion. The storm loomed over
them now, charged and dangerous. Alex was that cat again,
crouched
with tail twitching, prepared to pounce as soon as her prey came
within range.

     "You're a romantic and noble and all that, Fox, but you're
also an idiot."

     "So Scully tells me, not in so few words... in many, many
words... but the sentiment is the same." Mulder has admitted this
as he slowly reached forward with both hands to touch, to open
the
door and invite the devil to tea, to bare his soul to the storm
and
the claws of that sensual predator.

     Contact was not electric, neither a shock nor hot as Mulder
expected but rather like easing your hands into soft, warm water,
in many ways imperceivable until the sensation had eased up past
his fingertips and across his palms. By then a growing fear of
things happening to his body, a very physical invasion, had
already
told Mulder what Jake had known. This would be nothing like that
long ago wet dream.

     At the wrists that invisible, rising tide began to cool
slightly and a taste had already come into his mouth that was
cool
and salty like a tropical sea at night under the moon. Not that
it
mattered - it was far too late for that - but he was no longer
touching Jake. Only his eyes, however, could tell him that. Eyes
closed, he would have sworn that he still held Jake between his
hands. As the sensation rose higher, past his elbows, the shaking
began as if the rest of his body had begun to physically
recognize
that something was wrong with his lower arms. By the time the
cooling tide had reached his shoulders that wrongness had become
something foreign and terrible. He was standing now, though he
didn't remember doing so. Did he think he could run? Had he ever
been able to?

     When it reached his chest, there was a tightness that
shouldn't be there as if the distance across his shoulders was
too
large, that there was just too much of him everywhere, and cold
scalpels were already at work quietly cutting him down to size.
As
his lungs began to fill, his eyes opened involuntarily as if,
like
Jake's fish-out-of-water, he could somehow take in more air that
way. The icy stabbing pain in his chest carved deep, deeper than
his lungs as if she were burning away his heart or his soul with
her cold touch.

     Burning... burning...

     Someone... help... please....

     But his mouth made no sound, his lips didn't even move,
because his mouth wasn't his any more. The cool flood had
closed it
with an icy fog. The same flowed into his nostrils and down the
back of his throat, spicy now and salty and sweet. In his head
the
scent was as acrid as acid and as sickly fragrant as an orchard
of
apple blossoms on a hot spring day.

     So distracted had he been by the smells and tastes of her,
that the ice had crept unnoticed down from his heart, twisting
and
weaving about his innermost center, hugging him so tight around
the
waist it caught his breath. At the hips it suddenly flared, soft
and full and ripe with tantalizing promise. Leaving a warm kernel
glowing somewhere deep inside, the tide move on down his legs,
the
eddies tracing limbs even more slender than his own, smooth skin,
delicate ankles, tiny toes...

     Cold, cold, I'm so cold. Except for that growing warmth in
his
belly, except for that.

     His head turned towards the mirrored wall, but he wasn't the
one who turned it. His eyes remained open when he would have
closed
them, thinking, like a child, that what he did not see could
not be
real.

     The reflection of a figure stood in the glass bright as a
flame. The glowing column was a silver goddess, naked as
Aphrodite
and as insubstantial as the sea foam from which she'd sprung. And
yet she wore like a rich barbarian's cloak a man's bronzed skin
against which her smaller essence blazed.

     Even when he moved as little as to breath, the features of
the
face flickered like a child's toy that is a picture of a dog if
you
hold it one way and the picture of a cat the other. Or it may
be a
bird and a bee, or an angel and a devil. In this case the visage
was that of a woman's unearthly beauty one moment and his own
frozen terror-stricken features the next. ('Scully, you know that
face I showed you?  Well, I'm making it again.')

     Arms reached up... slowly... slowly.... taking their time to
make every stolen muscle ripple, modeling them as she set about
transforming each one from his form to hers, from his will to
hers.
The hands wove like dancing serpents behind his neck to flip the
mounds of thick black ghost hair up until it flowed like a river
over his arms, down his back and across his bare skin. Still the
arms stretched higher, arching the slender lower back, pulling
taut
the two vaporous swelling on his chest he could sense but refused
to look at.

     Other eyes did watch however. Hazel eyes more brown than
green
set in a facsimile of the face Mulder saw every morning in the
mirror in his apartment's tiny bathroom. Jake was still on the
floor, his reflection also in the mirror. Jake's face, however,
did
not move and shift into her image as did his own.

     He wanted his own back! Like a cry in the night from a
frightened child, he wanted his own face only his mouth was
closed,
full of vapor and taste and scent. And so he clung to those hazel
eyes more brown than green which understood and which met and
held
the fear at bay more tightly than the clasp of a hand in his
hand.

     But there was something else in those eyes - a hunger and
desire Mulder had known before, close up and very personal. The
warmth began to spread from the kernel she had placed in his
center. The wave was like the tide from the surging sea, rising
and
falling, each surge delicious and becoming more so. It was so
different from what a man feels that did not recognize it at
first
for what it was. When he did, the wonder of it nearly eclipsed
the
fear.

     His mouth, no longer filled with his silent screams, moved
like a rusty gate, slow at first and sounding far... far away in
his ears.

     "That sort of a memory I have about our 'doing it'... that
wasn't a sick nightmare, was it? That happened."

     The image of the figure to the right of his own oh-so-
altered
reflection in the mirror flushed. "Yes, but it was what was
left of
the 'Gold' and Alex, not me. In fact I fought her and she
pushed me
out. So you see, you don't have to be aware of any of this. You
can
leave if you want to. Just - go away. The only thing certain is
that Alex will win."

     A long moment passed where Jake could almost see lines of
force radiating from the creature standing before the mirror, the
thing that glowed like that silver goddess bonded to Mulder's
skin.
Only the eyes were totally Mulder's still and in them a battle
was
most assuredly raging which argued volumes about cultural taboos
and commitments elsewhere but unspoken. It wasn't a question of
whether something was going to happen here, only whether Mulder
was
going to be aware of it or not. Jake rose to his feet and drifted
over to the mirror. His skin with its golden tan shone with the
lingering drops of bathwater and sweat. In the mirror they were
still the same height but other than that no one would have
thought
them twins any longer.

     Mulder pulled his eyes away from the mind-reeling sight.
"What
about you? She wants you to be part of this - you know that. I
wouldn't want you to... just out of a sense of obligation -"

     A finger stopped his lips, but whether the mouth it touched
was Alex's or his own Mulder couldn't tell and it really didn't
matter any longer.

     "What would you do without me?" Jake asked. "Alex is no wall
flower. She'd take you out and find - someone. Better me, don't
you
think?"

     Mulder honestly didn't know. Thinking wasn't anything he had
much control over anymore. "But only if you want -"

     "Drop your eyes and take a look. I want. Though really, I
have
the same choices as you. I'm no more alone here than you are. She
likes orchestrating all the parts of these little dramas." Jake
took a step closer, took the long, slender hand. Mulder's breath
caught, held, and only slowly released. "Though if it makes you
feel any better about this, I think I would want to anyway."

     Mulder's eyes widened and Jake gave him a little half smile.

     "Maybe that wasn't the most reassuring thing I could have
said
right now."

     "I don't think I'm in a position to make any kind of
judgement
about cultural norms at the moment." Mulder's voice was tight.
That
delicious feeling in the core of his being had been roused to a
burning pitch. He was clearly feeling sensations from the touch
of
Jake's hand that were sending him places only Alex's 'men' had
gone
before.

     Then Jake's free hand, the one that didn't hold Mulder's,
raised. The movement wasn't smooth but almost jerky as if drawn
by
puppet strings. Almost apologetically, he reached to stroke the
ghostly curve of one ethereal breast. Though he was still inches
from the agent's actual skin, Mulder purred in response, the
vibration coming from deep in his throat.

     With that purr, the resolve of two wavering consciences
dissolved a good deal farther.

     Jake tugged at the hand he held, feeling both the feverish
warmth of Mulder's skin and cool moor-fog of Alex, and Fox came,
drawn by a power that had driven the human race, the entire
animal
kingdom, for eons upon eons.

     It was the oddness of the body that moved under him that
snapped Mulder back into his own mind if only for a brief time.
Such small feet, such limber hips and shoulders - the sort of
which
a man will never have. It was a lighter body than his own,
lighter
and possessing a dancer's fluid grace.

     "You're beautiful," Jake whispered close by. "Sorry, Fox, if
you're still in there. I meant Alex was beautiful."

     Mulder affirmed that he was with the slightest spastic
jerk of
his head. "I'm here." The gesture and the words were hard,
however.
No, not 'hard' but difficult; he didn't even want to think about
'hard' at the moment. The words that his mouth tried to form were
"You're beautiful, too," but he wouldn't. Still, at the very
thought something twisted at his core producing the subtlest of
gestures, a seductive sway of slender shoulders and full, soft
hips
and transmitted the same message more clearly than any words.

     Shakily, he murmured, "I'm supposed to go looking for X-
Files.
I guess, this one came looking for me."

     In sympathy, Jake increased the pressure on the bones in the
hand he held, and Mulder felt the warm sea surge up, only it was
more like a fountain this time, touching places a man didn't even
own. Alex's essence was clearly more then surface deep. How much
more of him was she capable of changing? At the implications
Mulder
threw back his head, Alex's long hair moving over his bare
shoulder
and across his back. The laugh that burst from his ample chest
was
higher than his own, a woman's laugh. At its quality and the
unexpected force, it cut off short into ragged sob-like breaths.

     Jake put his arms around his friend and forced the head down
onto his shoulder to calm the rising hysteria. Neither presence
resisted. After a few minutes of letting his hands and his lips
run
over the soft, warm skin of the body in his arms, Jake gently
lowered the exquisite creation down onto the huge bed in the
great
room. Somehow they had managed to get as far across the great
room
as that.

     Jake stared down, knowing that his eyes could not hide his
arousal. Below him he could see them both as clearly as the
merged
creature they had become.

     "Alex's lovers had never been so desirable as this." It was
the mixture of Alex's passion and the Fox's fear and innocence
that
Jake, and any man or woman, found so appealing. Alex was
shameless,
eager. Mulder was terrified, but at the same time bashfully
curious.  Jake felt his own breath coming in short, hungry pants
like a dog. If he didn't get a grip soon, he'd be drooling.

     For the last time Mulder looked completely out of his own
eyes
and even though one corner of that luscious mouth turned up in a
wavering smile, he couldn't hide the dread which was ravaging his
body in its own way. "Sounds crazy, but in a lot of ways this is
like my first time. You will be gentle, won't you?"

     Jake had an urge to reply with, "As gentle as you were
with me
last night," but decided this was not the time to bring up that
complication. Besides he didn't want to break the fragile mood.
Instead he knelt down beside the bed and began using his
expressive
hands to play the creature before him. "Relax. I'll be careful.
At
least no broken bones. This can be an experience you'll never
forget if you just don't fight it."

     Mulder's eyes closely contentedly as his body writhed. It
wouldn't be long now before he would slid over the edge to where
sensation swallowed fear.

     "This..." Mulder began then lost self to a wave of pleasure
and had to wait for a lull before he could come back one last
time.
"This is one I don't think I'm going to tell Scully about."

End of Chapter 7
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (8/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Chapter 8

     "May we join you?"

     They had been wrestling to see who would be on top the next
time. A glorious puppy play of muscle against muscle and bone
against bone that was unnaturally equal. The words cut Mulder off
in mid-pounce so abruptly that he fell off the bed onto his sore
ass and just sat and stared open-mouthed. Aroused and blissfully
happy, Jake just propped his head up on one elbow and grinned.

     "As you will, my lady, my lord." The words were said with an
insolence that would have earned the supplicant, Jacob, a sharp
rebuff. Instead their two visitors were too busy recovering from
their shock.

     Someone had pulled open the drapes and in the pale gray
light
of the new day, Lisa could be seen dressed for work in all her
leather and laces. Her selection of straps hung from her belt.
She
quickly covered her surprise with that radiant, professional cool
she had. Too early to get up, she had probably not gone to bed
yet.
The same was probably true of Elliot who was looking like a Norse
god today in oiled skin, a short leather breechcloth, and a
simulated wolf pelt. Only his expression didn't match his
costume.
He was grinning in positive delight.

     Trying to understand the meaning of the two visitors'
opening
words, Mulder stared from one to the other and back at Jake. Jake
winked. The sane part of him deep inside knew he should be more
sympathetic to Mulder's confusion but he was having too good a
time
and the possibilities for the next few hours had suddenly taken a
turn to the macabre. Besides he'd seen the fire that still glowed
in Fox's eyes. Even though Alex wasn't visible to either of them
any more - ghosts after all, were invisible in the full light of
day - she was still in residence, sunk deep into blood and bone.
Mulder, therefore, didn't have a snowcone's chance in hell of
avoiding the next few hours though there would probably be some
argument later whether he would have wanted to anyway. Fox, the
all-male part of him, was helplessly caught like a fly in amber
by
the wild, female magnificence that was Lisa. The part of Mulder
that was still Alex leaped with joyful lust at the sight of
Elliot,
one of her favorite paragons of male perfection.

     Both were going to have a truly exquisite experience, the
only
question was, who first?

     Alex, feeling satiated and particularly playful, made that
decision. Rising the body she still wore to its best advantage,
she
moved with a leopard's grace from the place of Mulder's
ignominious
fall, to drape herself languidly across the head of the great
room's huge bed.

     "He's mine!" Lisa growled, knowing a challenge when she saw
one.

     Alex stared out of Mulder's eyes at her intended victim,
haughtily daring.

     Sighing long and longingly, Lisa reached moved forward
even as
she reached for the strap at her belt. "Definitely mine."

     Elliot laughed gently and threw himself down next to the
grinning Jake. "You are Jacob, aren't you?" the older man asked,
reaching for one arm and then the other to check the bracelets.

     Jacob snatched both wrists away still grinning like a cat
wallowing in cream. "Try me and find out."

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     He woke in a woman's arms; that was the only thing he was
certain of. His mind felt like cotton candy. Thoughts when they
did
manage to pop up got snagged in the sticky goo and never
connected.
The woman sighed and snuggled, her fingers weaving about his
hair -
 not the hair on his head but his pubic hair. There had been
other
Firsts with this woman. She had wanted total control and he had
allowed himself to be directed by her. He must have done it right
because she had been well satisfied with him. Another first was
that he didn't remember her name. This would have alarmed him
more
if he had been able to remember his own. Wondering where he was
brought up only images of a dark room but he knew there was sand
and sea and sun outside. When? He had no concept of an external
calendar - no day, no month, no year. Internally, he felt about
nineteen though he knew he was older. Many rivers had passed over
that bridge since that awkward boy-man age but it was as if
someone
had locked those years away someplace.

     "Jacob, a little something to gnosh on, eh?" Whose warm
baritone was that? Another man murmured a reply and Fox felt the
vibrations as that someone's movements traveled through the
mattress to where he lay with the woman. All of them together?
Here
was another something that didn't make sense. He wanted to drift
back to sleep, hoping that when he woke up everything would make
more sense but someone touched his arm.

     "Duty calls, cousin."

     Cousin? That made no sense but the voice was one he knew.
Opening his eyes, he blinked. He knew the face that drifted over
his, knew that body. With very little hesitation he moved to the
edge of the bed and was relieved when the woman released her very
possessive hold. She didn't even miss him. As his bare feet found
the rich carpet only a short distance from the low mattress, he
turned back and saw the woman roll languidly across the expanse
of
shining black sheets to embrace a fine-looking older man who
lay on
her other side. The bed was immense, the largest he had ever seen
but one he knew he had seen before.

     A hand on his elbow moved him away from the sleepers and
across the huge room, a room so large that the bed did not look
so
very odd in it. They passed through a doorway and down a short
hallway to a kitchen. This also was familiar in a numb sort of
way.
The man who had awakened him looked deeply and with concern into
his eyes.

     "What's your name?" When there was no response he asked
again.
"Do you remember your name?"

     Name? He had many. None of which described all of him. This
elemental part of him without civilization, without a history
or a
future, he thought of that part of himself with the name hated
but
it was the one he had been given.

     "Fox."

     "Well, that's something. Sit here, I'll get the 'petite-
dejeuner' for the Master and Mistress."  There was humor in the
voice as if there was a joke there someplace. They were just
words
to Fox.

     So he sat on the cold kitchen chair and let the thoughts
buzz
helplessly around in his sticky brain like flies in a jar while
the
familiar man who had stared into his eyes made noises about the
kitchen. When he was given a tray with tea and croissants to take
to the woman, Fox carried it as carefully as a six-year-old boy
who
has been given a great responsibility. Then there was that
guiding
hand on his elbow again and he was led to the very end of the bed
that was as impossibly long as it was wide. He was even handed a
croissant and a mug of tea of his own on a chipped plastic plate,
not on the fine china the man and woman snuggled at the head of
the
bed had been given. In time he followed the example of his
'cousin'
who sat beside him and ate a few bites of the roll and drank the
tea. The tea he found he was desperate for. He was very thirsty
and
his mouth was full of a musky taste.

     He became aware of the 'Master' and 'Mistress' again. They
had
eaten and drank their tea and put aside their trays. Now they
lounged with their heads together though they frequently
glanced up
together as if to reassure themselves that the two identical men
sitting on the end of their bed hadn't disappeared. They were
whispering and plotting and softly giggling like children.

     Lisa finally rolled to sit on her edge of the bed,
indicating
as she did so for the two to come to her. Jacob rose as lithely
as
a cat to comply. "Both of you," she ordered, a touch of annoyance
in her voice. After some hesitation, Fox followed, mimicking the
other for he had no idea of what else he should do. They both
crouched down before her on the floor like two well-trained
hounds
and Lisa proceeded to stroke their identical bowed heads and
trace
the lines of their cheek bones and jaws with her perfect fingers.
The older man, who Fox managed to remember was called Elliot,
joined her and soon they were murmuring together as they compared
ears and fingers, even lengths of toes and the count of scars.
Both
laughed to find their hazel eyes so different, Jacob's more brown
than green, and Isaac's more green than brown.

     Like a well-contented cat Jacob closed his eyes. This
petting
appealed to him. In time, however, he managed to detach himself
enough to note how 'Isaac' was faring. Still dazed, Fox was not
doing badly, though he was not limp with contentment as Jacob
was.
He was tense and there was a fine sheen of sweat on his skin.
When
Elliot stroked a rounded buttock, gooseflesh broke out to mingle
with the sweat.

     After this had been going on for far longer than Fox was
comfortable, Elliot flopped back onto the bed as if falling
backwards into a great, shiny-black pool. Stretching strong arms
and legs, he rolled back to his original place. Head propped up
on
one hand, he raised the sheet beside him.

     "Come," he said. Jacob raised his head, the muscles on his
haunches bunching to reply. "No, not you this time, Jacob, and
don't sulk. I'm talking to your friend."

     "The very sweaty one," Lisa added with a smile, lying back
against her own pile of pillows and raising the sheet on her own
side for Jacob. With a look from Lisa to Elliot and then a
meaningful one to the nearly catatonic Fox, Jake slipped into the
sheets beside his Mistress. Her body was soft and cool and supple
just as he knew Elliot's was hot and hard and strong. Jake had
been
their mutual plaything often enough to be well aware of the
difference. Mulder would find this out, too, if he ever got his
body into gear and got over there.

     All eyes were on Fox now. His brain, swimming in a very
personal confusion, was working even less well than before. It
was
his body that responded to Jacob's fierce eyes and moved to the
only place being offered to him. It was embarrassing after
Jacob's
smooth movements how awkward his body moved and how long the trip
around to the far side of the bed took, though his dragging feet
made it longer.

     Elliot's blue eyes were confused when 'Isaac' finally
reached
his side. It was clear he was weary and more than a little
perturbed at having had to hold open the sheet for so long. For
his
age his naked body was firm and tan and magnificent. Not
unaffected, Fox actually began to tremble, which rooted his feet
again to the floor. Elliot shook his head wondering, an amused
smile coming to his lips.

     "Jacob, tell this creature I don't bite." Lisa allowed
Jake to
raise his head from where he was already expertly engaged in
pleasuring her. His eyes were dreamy, his flesh was already
flushed, his lips swollen from their work.

     "But you do."

     Elliot laughed. "All right. I won't bite for at least five
minutes and then very gently. Please?" More hesitation. "You'd
think he was a nervous virgin though he was anything but with
Lisa.
He's beginning to try even my patience."

     Fighting Lisa's distracting advances, Jake forced
concentration. "Isaac's nearly the perpetual virgin," he replied
warming up to the lie. "He doesn't swing by nature. It takes
him a
while to adjust. Most of his partners find that irresistible.
It's
one of his gifts. Besides, he's always been a bit of a recluse."

     Elliot made a small humming sound as he considered then and
slid over, giving the newcomer a little more space. "I'll be
gentle, I promise, my beautiful one. I do want you, very badly.
Come on now."

     The words didn't mean anything to poor dazed Fox though the
tone of the voice did. It was not only deep but loving and
paternal, and Fox felt cold standing alone on the outside while
everyone else had their place. And here this god was offering him
a place, too.

     Cramped muscles bent and Fox slipped between the silky black
sheets, his body stiffening again as Elliot's arms came around
him
and drew him close. The man's hands were not a woman's hands, not
in any way. His own body did not fit against the man's as it did
against a woman's body and yet it was not unpleasant.

     "Relax, relax. Just lay back and think of England," Elliot
advised in true BBC British tones.

     That was all it took. The absurdity of that remark cut
through
the fog, and Fox felt the last of his defenses begin to
crumble. He
found his muscles, all but one, relaxing as the big hands stroked
his back and tucked his head against his own muscular shoulder.

     'I've gone mad,' Fox thought. 'No, I'm a shade, as
insubstantial as smoke, as crazy as this crazy place.' The sun
was
peeking though open places in the thick, dark curtains and
throwing
little golden beams here and there. A stripe of Elliot's skin was
bronze in one beam. 'His cousin' was not so far away making the
woman moan. And there was another and her name was Alex and she
was
like a cloak covering them all. Though invisible, she brought a
rich kind of life with her.

     She was not the pale wraith here.

     Fox was the pale one, the odd man out, and he didn't like
the
feeling.

     Tentatively, he initiated a little exploring expedition,
running his fingers along a long, firm flank. The touch of the
hard, male muscle reminded him of another's. It stirred a
memory of
Jake. In a nightmare? Not entirely, there were far worse
nightmares
he chose to forget about. And then there was that time in college
long, long ago. He had been so young.

     It's a refined taste the young professor had said at the
time.
Poison probably, Fox thought, and the memory had always been
mildly
disturbing and thus wholly erotic. What he had done recently -a
time of violent upheaval and a rutting mindlessness - was not the
same in any way. Considering its reaction to the man's hands, his
body wanted this, wanted this more than anything - to be touched,
to be held close, to lose itself in another who was larger,
stronger, older, wiser. His confused mind wasn't complaining
either. To feel wanted and protected, to feel safe, was
everything.
And then Alex was always there to make this easier. She gave him
the excuse that this desire wasn't truly his. Yes, she was there,
laughing and watching as he slid his foot over the line.

     She was still part of him... wasn't she? This was all her
idea... right?
          &nbs p;          &nb sp;   * * * * * * * *

     They played like Olympian gods, then slept like the dead.
Stumbling into consciousness, the four ate like starved rats, and
then matter-of-factly soaked off the worst of the sweat and other
bodily fluids in the communal pool. Three of the four did anyway.
Fox woke dazed but that quickly cleared. He did eat well but
washed
in private in one of the bedroom baths and took his time about
it.
When he emerged, the sharp, intense glare that gazed out of the
somewhat swollen eyes told Jake that Fox had disappeared just as
Alex had. Mulder had returned.

     It was nearly eleven in the morning before they were all
assembled in the 'conversation' section of the great room. The
heavy drapes had been pulled back to reveal the magnificent
view of
midday sun on sparkling sea. The light also revealed the
condition
of the central part of the room, which quite literally looked
like
a tiny cyclone, had visited. Besides the scattered sheets and
pillows, every toy in the closet had been snatched out and used
in
some fashion. It would take the maids hours to clean and put away
each very interesting object.

     The three had mugs in their hands and wore robes draped
loosely about their bodies, careless about what they hid or
revealed. Lisa and Elliot's intent in dressing even this much was
a signal, its message simple, "Enough of the carnal for now; time
for business." The fourth member of the party wore the closest
thing he could find to running shorts in addition to the short
robe. Unlike the others, his was belted. He sat slouched on his
tailbone in a director's chair in the corner, embarrassed,
affronted, unhappy and silent while the others conversed. If he
had
realized that his 'rebel without a cause' make him all the more
delectable to Lisa and Elliot's evaluating eyes, he would have
made
at least a minimal attempt to be more agreeable.

     The fact was, however, he was down. Down, down, down. Alex
had
disappeared for certain with the first blast of the ice cold
shower
and she hadn't returned. Perhaps they'd finally satisfied her
unique hunger though Mulder suspected that she had just
dissipated
among the group as a whole. There had been some weird shit going
on. What did it matter - how? Alex was gone. Mulder, however,
felt
no relief. He was too sore, too wrung out from the deepest,
secret
part of him to the tips of this fingers and toes. There was also
shame, shame that he felt empty without Alex's hunger inside him,
no wind in his sails, becalmed in a dead sea. And lonely? Heart-
achingly lonely. In his whole life he had rarely missed Scully -
or
the dream of someone even vaguely Scully-like - more.

     For better or worse, he remembered everything now - all that
Jake had explained about the island and their situation before
Alex
decided to make herself known and most of everything since.
Mulder
could tell by the worried look in Jake's eyes as be sat trying to
calmly drink coffee with these two 'S & M' masters, that Jake
knew
he remembered.

End of Chapter 8
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (9/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Chapter 9

     Jake had already described how 'Isaac' was his cousin.

     "Your 'cousin'?" Lisa asked, studying Isaac as if still not
able to believe what she was seeing. "And you didn't know he was
here?"

     Mulder kept silent but simply crossed his legs, folded his
arms, and glowered. Classic passive resistance mode.

     Jake shrugged. "We lost touch. I was as surprised to find
him
here as he was to be found." Jake sipped at his espresso to all
appearances entirely at his ease. "I'm glad you came by this
morning because there is a family problem I hope you can help us
with."

     "Such as?" Elliot asked. "You know we'll help if we can but
the charter is very strict -"

     "Yes, I know, but this shouldn't bend the rules at all."
Jake
leaned over and handed Elliot a small plastic sandwich bag
containing the two ampules. "As his medical records indicate,
Isaac
has suffered from depression on and off for some years. He has
been
wearing these under his skin. It's his anti-depression
medication.
His own doctor inserted them the day he arrived which was about
four weeks ago. Isaac thinks the dose is too strong which is why
he's been so lethargic - the attendants here can testify to that.
He asked me to take them out for him. We'd like his doctor on the
mainland to have them analyzed."

     "Our clinical center can do that," Lisa offered.

     "It's an experimental drug," Mulder murmured grudgingly. If
Jake was going to leave plot holes, he guessed he'd have to fill
them in at least until he could see where his 'cousin' was going
with this.

     "Uh, that's right," Jake agreed, one eyebrow raised in
Mulder's direction.

     Elliot was staring with interest at the slender rods in the
bag. "Then we'll send them to Mr. Forsyth, Isaac's sponsor, no
problem."

     "That is the problem," Jake said. "Isaac had a private
agreement with his employer not to take them out while he was
here.
Isaac could lose his position and what a disaster that would be."

     Mulder nearly gagged but stifled it behind a cough.

     "But for medical purposes -" Elliot began.

     "Mr. Forsyth is not the most reasonable of individuals." It
was 'Isaac' who spoke, his voice as tight as a bowstring. Mulder
was staring into space somewhere to Jake's left where he could
just
see a corner of the bed where he had spent so much of the last
three hellish. The spell was broken when a shudder ran through
his
body.

     Clearing his throat, Jake turned quickly back to the
business
of explaining his plan. "If we can send these to Isaac's doctor
by
way of _my_ lawyer, then Mr. Forsyth doesn't have to know until
the
problem is resolved."

     "We'll also need to send a blood sample," Mulder added, "to
determine current therapeutic levels. Of course, for the test
to be
valid the sample would need to be sent overnight express."

     Jake nearly spilled his espresso down his bare chest where
the
robe gaped. Mulder must be desperate. Jake remembered from their
stay together at the hospital after the affair in Washington how
the man hated needles. He also noted how some useful medical
terminology had obviously rubbed off after the years of listening
to the lovely Dr. Scully.

     Elliot glanced over at Lisa for agreement with Jacob's
request. "Seems reasonable, especially when a resident's health
is
in question. Marshall's on duty here now and he had some EMT
training back in the world as I remember. He can draw the sample
and we can take it with us this morning."

     "It's afternoon, darling," Lisa corrected with a lazy smile,
"and I agree." One long, shapely, bare leg was draped over the
arm
of the chair and swung casually back and forth. Her favorite
leather strap swung similarly from her relaxed hand. She was
clearly oblivious to what showed and what didn't though none of
the
men, not even Mulder, missed a swing. "My only concern is how
you'll manage, Isaac. Without your medication, I mean. I imagine
that the analysis and getting replacements for these will take a
few days."

     Jake replied before Mulder could. "Yes, I suppose you've
noticed that he's a little under the weather right now, but if
you
give leave for Isaac and I to spend as much of the next few days
together as possible, I'll do my best to help him derail any
emotional episodes."

     Mulder glowered as if he didn't need any emotional episodes
derailed. "A certain level does remain in the blood," he
countered
in slow, extremely precise tone

     Looking from one to the other Elliot's smile lit his eyes
with
a cagey light. "Of course you'll want to stay close, we
understand
completely - considering how long you've been out of touch, I
mean.
That arrangement would be acceptable to me."

     Lisa's laugh was low, its throaty alto ringing like a deep
golden bell though certainly Mulder was slow to grasp what she
found so amusing. "More than acceptable. In fact, I'll make
that an
order. We've had twins before but never any like..." she gestured
at the two lean, dark-haired, beautiful men as she turned her
elegant head to her husband. "They're perfect together, Elliot.
What a sight they'll make especially with the big conference here
and then there's the competition tomorrow morning..." She let the
tip of her tongue glide slowly over her lower lip, her eyes
alight.
"The two of them, a matched pair. I want them."

     Desperately, Jake tried to catch Mulder's eye in an
attempt to
sidetrack one of those emotional outbursts Mulder didn't think he
was going to have. One of truly gargantuan proportions was
building
though Mulder was managing to hold it together. He had flushed a
deep scarlet. Good thing he was backlit by the light or they
would
have been able to tell exactly how much her attention had
disturbed
him. And not all the emotion rising to the surface was anger,
either.

     His consternation was covered by the arrival of Marshall,
the
attendant with EMT training, who drew two tubes of blood, labeled
them, wrapped them gauze, placed them in a Styrofoam container
and
handed them to Elliot. Mulder had managed to limit his reaction
to
a sibilant hiss as the blood was drawn. If the attendant noticed
the considerable number of needle marks that marred the inside of
both of Mulder's arms, he said nothing.

     During the operation Mulder's eyes had never left those
vials
until they were no longer visible. Jake was almost certain that
he
knew what was going on behind those eyes. If their plan worked,
Mulder was thinking of the other hands that would hopefully be
touching those same tubes sometime during the next forty-eight
hours. His unnaturally bronze tan paler than before, 'Isaac' rose
and without obeisance or even a polite request to withdraw,
wandered as if sleepwalking out onto the balcony.

     His own sitting position semi-formal as was the correct
posture for a servant before his betters even at this relaxed
'after' time when the barriers of class were thin, Jake felt his
hair lift in the balmy breeze that blew in through the open
balcony
door. Despite his 'cousin's' lack of manners, he tried to appear
nonchalant. Hard to do with Mulder out on the balcony, hugging
his
arms tight to his chest as if he were freezing and Jake's own
brain
spinning as he tried to decide how to present the second part of
his plan.

     "There is something else," he said.

     Elliot lifted an eyebrow and Jake knew he was pushing their
tenuous and forbidden friendship. They weren't equals here, not
in
the least, but Jake forged ahead anyway.

     "We'd like you to find us a private buyer for our
contracts."

     Lisa exchanged glances with Elliot. They were both
unbelievably beautiful people, and if written down their sexual
histories would not have been believed, but above all they were
business people.

     "Together," Jake added with emphasis. "As I said before,
we've
spent too much time apart over the years." Elliot's eyebrows
lifted
higher, a naughty little smile on his lips. So that was what the
knowing light had been in his eyes before. Considering what the
master trainer and Lisa had seen when they first entered the
apartment, Jake knew what they were thinking. Let them. It made
his
request all the more reasonable.

     "I have only a few weeks left on my contract; but Isaac has
nearly nine months."

     "I thought you were eager to keep in Mr. Forsyth's good
graces?"

     "We are, but it wouldn't help negotiations for it to be
known
that Isaac had broken his current contract even if some of the
restrictions were unreasonable."

     Lisa nodded thoughtfully.

     "I take it you're not interested in our approaching
Forsyth to
buy yours?" Elliot asked.

     Mulder must have been listening. Even from where he sat,
Jake
could see the muscles of Mulder's back spasm even through the
fabric of the robe he'd belted tight around his body.

     "Not Forsyth. Isaac has not found that situation
satisfactory
but neither could he afford to buy himself free nor did he wish
to
lose his position outright. As you know, a companion can get a
bad
reputation in the profession if he does that. That one of the
reasons I'm willing to go in with him. Together we should fetch a
higher price, enough to pay off both our current contracts and
leave a nice nest egg for him when that runs out."

     As Mulder came to stand by the open door, clearly listening
now though with his emotions impossible to read, Elliot gave Lisa
a meaningful look that Jake found encouraging.

     "Do you think you can find a buyer?" Jake asked, thrall-
humble, eyes downcast. For any trainer other than Lisa and Elliot
he would have been on his knees at this point. "After all, we are
nearly forty. We can't fetch the high prices indefinitely."

     Lisa laughed her golden laugh. "Oh, give us a break, Jacob.
False modesty does not become you. Forty.... If only more of them
were forty. Save me from all these hyperactive, narcissistic
children! You know that we'd buy your contract ourselves in a
second but as trainers we're not allowed private thralls. That
would show favoritism."

     "There are already grumblings about how much time the two of
us spend together," Elliot remarked. "A real pity," he added in a
softer voice that perhaps only Jake who sat closest was meant to
hear.

     "Do you seriously think that there would be a problem
finding
a buyer who would pay the kind of money you're talking about?"
Lisa
asked rhetorically. "The only problem I see is protecting
ourselves
from the stampede. Not that there aren't obstacles, you
understand.
Jacob, you know we would never stand in your way if you really
wanted to go - you have only a few weeks left here anyway, as
you've said - but Isaac's owner may have different ideas. He
doesn't have to sell."

     "Which is why we don't want you to got to Forsyth now. We
want
to have identified a buyer first so we have a offer to set before
him."

     "Yes, that strategy usually works best," Lisa, the
businesswoman, mused. Suddenly stretching with that incredible
grace of hers, she rose and began picking up the pieces of the
original costume she'd been wearing when she and Elliot had
arrived. Something Grecian, Jake remembered.

     "We have to go now, I'm already a no-show for four sessions
this morning. I can just see it - novices wandering about
aimlessly." She smiled in Mulder's direction. "But your little
surprise was certainly worthwhile. Elliot and I will see to
these -
 " Lisa raised the package with the ampules and blood sample.
"We'll also give the matter of your contracts some thought. As
for
you two, take the rest of the day off." She raised her voice.
"Isaac, let Jacob show you around the grounds. All the grounds.
You've been hidden away here long enough. But tomorrow morning,
Jacob -" her voice had changed to one that was accustomed to
giving
commends and having them followed without question, "- I expect
to
see both of you at our villa by ten a.m. and suitably attired for
the races. Am I understood, Jacob?"

     Automatically, Jake had risen when she had, his posture
becoming more formal along with the tone of her voice. "As you
wish, Lisa," he replied inclining his head.

     Lisa's eyes fixed unhesitatingly on 'Isaac', who had not
moved
from his stand by the balcony's open door. "And what about you,
Isaac? Will you do as I wish? I expect great things from you. Ask
Jacob, he'll tell you. I'll put you through your paces, have no
doubt about that."

     No acknowledgement at all from 'Isaac' who seemed more
stunned
than anything. With all the deference and formal words of a good
butler, it was Jake who showed the two out leaving he and
Mulder -
and Alex - alone once more.

          &nbs p;          &nb sp;  * * * * * * * *

     Immediately after Elliot and Lisa had left to return to
their
duties - after all, someone had to whip and bend all those young
postulate bodies and minds into shape - Jake joined Mulder who
stood once again at the balcony rail. It was a gorgeous day as
all
days on the island were gorgeous and yet Mulder seemed shadowed
under his own personal rain cloud. He spun on Jake before the
other
could even begin to comment on his dangerously un-thrall-like
behavior.

     "So this is your plan?" Mulder asked, bitterly. "What do you
think you're doing? You're going to _sell_ us? How does that
help?
We won't own ourselves anymore after than before."

     "I have no intention of our contracts being bought by
anyone.
It's just a smoke screen, a delaying tactic. We'll be so hot
around
here that even if Forsyth does get wind of your recovery, he
won't
dare try any funny business. That will give Ms. Scully time to
come
to your rescue."

     A significant clearing of the storm on Mulder's brow showed
how diverting even the mention of his partner's name could be.

     "That's fine except for what if I'm not anxious to be 'hot'
around here. What if I'd rather find a nice, dark hole to hide in
until Scully comes. Besides, you've made a case for my medication
problems. Why can't we just say that I'm emotionally fragile and
that I need a little more acclimation time."

     "We're already on thin ice here. If we begin raising doubts,
they'll contact Forsyth so fast... Besides, the intent of the
games
around here is to keep the slaves in a continuous state of
emotional vulnerability. No, that's not an excuse we can use.
If it
were allowed, you have no idea how many of the new thralls would
use that argument to bow out every time a session got a little
rough. With what you've been through, you must have gotten the
idea
by now that only when you're pushed beyond your limits does sex
really start to get interesting. The Club feels that it would be
doing a disservice not only to their members but also to the
thralls themselves to allow them to fold over such a minor
complaint. No, the only way a slave can get out is if he were
to do
violence to a client, though its more likely that for the first
couple in incidents that would only earn you some extra heavy
punishment to pull you into line."

     They had both been standing at the rail. An almost inaudible
growl rumbled from Mulder's throat. He was taut as a bowstring.
The
question was - would he harness that energy and rise to the
challenge or would he fly? And if he flew, where to?

     "Do you have a better solution?" Jake demanded.

     Mulder's breath was coming ragged in his frustration. "You
know I don't," he snarled. "I can barely put one thought in front
of another. What I'd like to know is how much of this plan was
actually yours."

     Jake turned his head sharply towards Mulder, but the agent
continued to gaze towards the sea. So Mulder had loosed his arrow
but it was Jake it had struck. He had a point. All Jake's
sensible
arguments... How many of the words were his own?

     Jake gripped the balcony rail as if suddenly dizzy. No, not
that way. He dare not start doubting himself. He had to be strong
and certain of their path because there were pitfalls in this
place. A tightrope to walk along. Keep it light, live on the
surface, be beautiful and pleasant and obey the rules and don't
allow Mulder to push the system. You had to watch your step.
There
were a few dark, hungry pits here that had nothing to do with
Alex.
Over the edge stuff that in no way was Mulder ready for.

     Mulder must have sensed Jake's eyes on him and was by now
well
aware of the seeds of doubt his words had planted.

     We are both caught in the spider's web and he knows it.

     "I'm sorry," Mulder said more himself than he had seemed all
morning. "I never thanked you for finding me and getting that
drug
out of my system, even if you did drag me through some X-rated
hell
since."

     Jake felt the morning breeze on his face, it was going to be
a warm day. The guilt was hot in him, too. "I owed you one. You
risked your life for me once."

     "You don't owe me anything. Your only problem was that you
were born with my face."

     That muscle in his jaw twitching, Jake seized the
opportunity
Mulder had just dropped in his lap. That was another way to gain
Mulder's cooperation. Under normal circumstances, Jake would
never
have asked, but these weren't normal.

     "In that case, what if I wanted a favor? Though it's not
just
for myself."

     Mulder's brows came together.

     "I promise it's not illegal -at least I don't think it is."

     "I'll try... do I get to know what it is before I agree?"

     "All the reasons I've given you already for lying low and
going along with life here are valid. I believe - as well as I
can
believe - that that's the best way to keep you safe until help
comes. There's another reason, too. I want to keep this quiet to
protect The Club itself. This place doesn't need any publicity.
If
you want to call my reason for being here 'possession' and
everyone
else's a social 'disease' then so be it, but don't take away
their
safe haven. You have no idea what the alternative is like. At
first, Alex took me to those places, unnatural places. The inner
city, slums and tenements, abandoned buildings filled with
unimaginable filth. A urine covered mattress on the floor if I
was
lucky."

     "You forget what I do for a living," Mulder replied with a
haunted look. "I've seen those places."

     Jake shrugged. "Yes, I suppose you have, wearing your white
hat and your FBI-correct dark suit, brandishing your sword of
justice. You didn't see them from your belly looking up though,
did
you? You weren't there begging for any willing stranger to hurt
you, to ravish you, to satisfy for just a few hours this demon
who's eating you up from the inside. I just know that I don't
ever
want to go to places like that again. I don't want anyone who's
driven for whatever reason to that sort of life style to feel
they
have to seek out those sorts of places. Alex may be a devil but
that was hell."

     Jake raised his arms, encompassing all about him. "In
comparison this is heaven. Believe it or not, but on the whole
these are good people. And it's not only a place for the rich -
the
thralls themselves can be as poor as dirt, can come from the
lowliest backgrounds. Some are not even that beautiful of face,
they just have to have that spark, that need to be desired. There
is many an ugly duckling turned swan who would do anything for
that
kind of attention."

     Staring out over the jewel-like grounds and the handsome
bodies that sauntered along the beach, Mulder saw below the
surface, he saw more. "What about disease, Jake. You say everyone
is clean. There is no way to be absolutely certain."

     "When are any of us ever absolutely certain about anything?
Call it an extreme sport then, a little dangerous, a lot
dangerous.
I'm not asking you to understand. I'm only asking you to put your
moral outrage on hold for a day or two until Scully can get here,
until we can work this out quietly."

     No answer from Mulder one way or the other but he was
listening.

     Jake rested his elbows on the top of the balcony rail and
sighed. "Just think about it, Fox."

     If Jake had observed his companion at that moment he would
have seen just how seriously Mulder was 'thinking about it'. "I
must be crazy, but I'll try to keep your secret. Still, if this
place is so idyllic -"

     "Why all the subterfuge? Why am I being so cautious? This
place is like life anywhere, good and bad, as challenging as a
person wants to make it for those who embrace its basic premise.
But this place is quicksand for you. It has its own rules, its
own
language and you don't know a damned thing. As I've said, any
protests from you will just be misconstrued, and the consequences
of raising the alarm? Not an experience you would enjoy, not one
your mind of your psyche is ready for."

     Mulder was silent, watching and, yes, listening.

     "As long as you're here," Jake said, "you're just going to
have to trust me."

     Inexplicably, at least to Jake, Mulder chuckled, eyes almost
hysterically bright. "'Trust'. Scully and I go around and around
about that. I appreciate your trying to lay it all out for me in
words of two syllables. I get a sense of what you're saying and I
believe absolutely in what you describe as quicksand. This place
scares me in ways I don't even want to have nightmares about. But
much as I want to trust you there's always Alex and how she may
be
nudging you one way or the other. So don't be insulted if I find
the trusting part hard. You don't know me, not really. I'm
skeptical about everything that seems to be laid out precisely
for
me. That doesn't mean I won't take a look but I'm usually aware
of
the dumb shit I'm walking in on. Scully swears that I'm paranoid
and that the whole world isn't really out to get me."

     "From what I've seen, only three-quarters of it," Jake
quipped.

     Mulder actually smiled. "At least that. On the other hand I
believe any weird thing I dig up is possible. It's a crazy see-
saw
way to live, so trust is hard."

     "Reserved for Scully," Jake deduced. "I understand better
than
you think."

End of Chapter 9
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (10/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

See disclaimer in Chapter 1.

Chapter 10

     They both looked off towards the sea. At that moment a group
of runners came by, bare feet pounding the sand along the shore
not
that far from their balcony. Novices, Jake knew. New thralls
being
exercised. They were all naked or as a near as they could be
and be
able to run comfortably. There were handlers with them, dressed
in
short leather bits of this and that. They carried the ever-
present
leather straps and whips. They pushed their charges, shouted
orders. The orders didn't have to make sense. Only teaching these
new ones to obey without question.

     One young man in the herd suddenly turned angry words on one
of the handlers. He had broken stride. Maybe a whip had kissed
too
sharply. The handlers stopped the runners. The offending member
was
surrounded by three of the handlers. There was a scuffle. The
young
man was pinned to the sand, face down, and things were done to
him.
Touching. A little screaming the kind of screaming that is a pain
of a kind, and yet not all pain.

     Mulder's fingers had dug grooves into the railing by the
time
the group moved on. The young victim straggled after the others,
head lowered and silent this time. Clearly, he was going to
remember not to complain again or at least he'd know what to
expect
if he did.

     "You're right," Mulder said. "This is a strange, strange
world
and no one's given me a roadmap."

     Jake listened to the words and thought he heard an
underlying
tone. A little hesitation and a... wistfulness? It was enough for
a start.

     "Be honest, Fox. What are you feeling? What did that last
scene stir in you?" Jake jostled Mulder's shoulder in a friendly
man-to-man sort of way. "And don't try to tell me that you found
yourself full of that moral outrage. I saw your face."

     Mulder shifted uncomfortably.

     "I think I know. You can't put that sort of thing in words.
That young man wasn't hurt. He's here to play the game like all
the
others. He gets what he asks for. He asked for that. A little
attention. Heightened awareness, like a high. You're a sexual
creature, Fox. I've seen that. The Gold has to have something to
work with... aptitude... something. Something to dredge out of
your
soul. Back in the world, what were your fantasies? Did you look
at
the magazines, watch those pathetic videos? In your mind was
there
always the need for more, for better?

     Jake didn't expect an answer and didn't get one.

     "You're here. I can't think of anyway to get you out of this
quickly and you haven't come up with anything better. I've afraid
by presenting your case to Lisa and Elliot I've rather pulled
your
safety net out from under you. I tried to prove you were
competent
and reasonably healthy. That was the only way I could think of at
the time to keep them from calling Forsyth. That means you can't
just stay here and hide in the corner and pretend you're still
druggie Isaac. Then they _would_ call Forsyth and that would
destroy our reputation with Elliot and Lisa and we need their
good
will for when Scully arrives." Jake sent Mulder a small smile
full
of sympathy. "Besides, conscious, you wouldn't like Isaac's life
much. The attendants would feel compelled to come in to feed and
water you, to bathe you, to take you to the gym. And you'd be
alone
because there wouldn't be any reason for them to allow me to stay
with you."

     It was Fox who stared out and down the beach. Just over the
palms he could see the edges of tall, white, modern buildings.
There is was... the huge sensual palace his little group of
bookish, sexually frustrated Oxford Freshman had fantasized so
about.

     "You're saying I have no choice, that I have to go with you,
down there."

     Jake put hand on Mulder's shoulder. The muscles underneath
his
hand were tight, too tight. The skin damp with sweat. "Try not to
think of it as an ordeal. You said you like to embrace new
things.
Remember those long, lonely nights when it was just you and your
videos and your good right hand. Embrace this life. It's just for
twenty-four hours, maybe forty-eight. No one need ever know, not
even Dr. Dana. Remember, they believe in privacy here. Not even
your real name is known."

     Mulder's lips pursed, the possibilities just beginning to
creep in. "What about the quicksand?" he asked.

     "I'm not saying that there isn't danger - that's part of the
high - but I'll be there. Just follow my lead. Besides, I thought
you were big, strong FBI and that you liked investigating the
weird. You won't get a lot weirder than this."

     Considering, Mulder stared out again over the balcony rail,
watching as a new group strolled into view along the beach. They
were older people, but still beautiful and graceful, and they
wore
casual expensive clothes. Clients. Lovely lords and ladies and
they
had caught sight of he and Jake on their balcony and were
gesturing
and talking excitedly to one another. Two of the woman beckoned
for
them to come down. All their smiles was bright, their manners all
relaxed and friendly. Jake raised his arms showing the group
crossed wrists. Showing obvious disappointment, the group
wandered
off further down the beach.

     "And that's the signal for being 'previously engaged'?"
Mulder
surmised, lip curling.

     "Being 'tied up', you mean?" Jake smiled, with sunny
brightness. "Every subculture has its little 'in' jokes."

     Jake stepped closer then, whispering softly, "Once in a
lifetime, Fox," came his warm breath. "You won't get this kind of
chance again. You'll always wonder on those cold nights when
you're
fifty or sixty even if you're lucky enough to have lovely
Scully at
your side... What would it have been like?"

     Jake could almost feel the shivers break out on Mulder's
body.
Good shivers, expectant shivers.

     A dozen priceless bodies jogged by. Half were naked. A
mixture
of clients and their paid companions. Guess which ones the naked
ones were? Jake almost chuckled as Mulder's head involuntarily
moved to follow them.

     "I can't do this," Mulder swore, but who was he trying to
convince.

     "'Can't' or 'shouldn't', Fox? You can. It will be over in a
day or two at the most. And you will enjoy it if you would only
leave your 'duty' and your New England Puritan morals behind
for a
little while."

     Mulder's eyes were as naturally bright as Jake had yet seen
them. Was this Alex exerting pressure, or was this Fox, the
emotionally younger and less civilized part of Mulder who watched
his favorite videos on those lonely Saturday nights as Jake had
guessed and opened the brown paper-wrapped magazines that came in
the mail. Jake saw the moment when Agent Mulder and civilization
won - temporarily at least.

     "There's got to be another way," Mulder said, back in his
own
skin, but the hold was tenuous. A little desperately, he asked,
"What about publicity? The media would love a good white slavery
story. There must be reporters here. Undercover. Break the news?
We'd get as much attention as your plan."

     "Do you want to walk back into the Bureau after news like
that
comes out. Sure, you could make a big deal out of this but
Forsyth
would slip through your fingers for sure and who would be hurt?
You
and a lot of other people whose careers would be ruined. Mine for
one. Believe it or not I have one I care about. Fox, this is a
shared _fantasy_. A mutual admiration society but only if you
don't
put people in the position where they have to start pointing
fingers to save themselves. Then it would get ugly. The world at
large is just not ready for what we do here."

     Like his eyes Mulder's face was no longer a blank. It too
clearly revealed  that Fox was stirring and Mulder wished it
wasn't
so. "I just can't... indulge. I have things to do. 'Forsyth'? The
name means nothing to me. I need to find the people who put me
here."

     "You will. There must be clues in your file. A contact. You
can get a copy. All correspondence, electronic and otherwise. But
we have to maneuver ourselves where we're in a better position to
ask for those kinds of favors. We can turn this place on its ear.
We can get the attention of all those bored, rich clients. We can
be a minor sensation and that's a very rare commodity here. Money
and influence talk just like it does everywhere. But to hold
something new in the palm of your hand? That's the real power.
Once
you get that power, even if it's in your person rather than your
bank account, then you can get the evidence you need, then you
can
get out quick and get out quiet. Then you can choose your own
time
and place to confront Forsyth.

     "Fox, this is my world, or at least one of them, and this is
how I suggest that we do it. What isn't an option in your sulking
in these rooms . To make this work we have to get out, both of
us.
We have to leave the Caverns and be seen. Join the cast. This has
got to be a better part than the old drunken bum you played to
save
my life before. So you expose your body for a few hours on a
balmy
tropical day to crowd of strangers. They'll never remember or
refuse to admit that they do. That's got to be better than
spending
one hour in that hell hole of a gutted furnace with that monster
Lawrence and his buddy."

     A dozen breaths moved with difficulty in and out of Mulder's
lungs. A group of women wolf-whistled in their direction. It was
getting way too crowded down there. Angrily, Mulder, pushed
himself
away from the balustrade. "NO!"

     "Mulder, get a grip. I think I can protect you from the
heavy
stuff. Lisa and the others will understand that it may take time
for you to acclimate yourself to 'public' life. We can use that.
They are not monsters. They take their 'calling' very seriously.
They're professionals and, as they said, business people and they
are not stupid." With irritation Jake massaged his temples
struggling for some way to illustrate his point. "Lisa, for
example. Lisa doesn't believe that anyone, no matter how highly
recommended or talented, should be taken under contract if they
are
under twenty-one. She doesn't believe that the young ones are
up to
the stress."

     "Right up there with Mother Theresa," Mulder grumbled.

     "Fox, those of us who sign up do so willingly. We do this
for
pleasure, my son."

     Anger fading as rapidly has it had come, Fox eyed Jake, the
emotion hard to pin down. "It's only that..." He wet his lips,
the
words refusing to come.

     "Only what? Mulder, are you resisting because it just
might be
fun? You have a lot of trouble with that, don't you?"

     Hazel eyes that were more green than brown glittered, just a
little playfully. "Mulder doesn't have fun," Fox explained. "As
close as he can come is when he tells his sick jokes."

     Jake's eyes widened. "'He'?" Dramatically, he took a step
back, aghast. "Isn't speaking of yourself in a third person the
sign of something - serious? And you think we're weird."

     "I'm not judging you. This place is just wrong for me."

     "For who?" Jake pried.

     "For Mulder," came the reluctant reply.

     "But not for Fox. Does Fox know how to have fun?"

     The sharp turn of the handsome head and the piercing eye
showed Jake that he had hit the matter square on the head.
Turning
away his pale face, Fox stepped back to the rail.

     "It's been a very long time."

     Jake stayed absolutely still. He had been right.
Unconsciously
he had been using 'Mulder' - both in his head and in his speech -
to refer to the FBI agent, the man of duty, the seeker after
strange and arcane knowledge. 'Fox' was the sexual animal who had
never quite grown up, whose only routine contribution to the
whole
was the sense of fun with which he occasionally peppered Mulder's
world. 'Fox' in the extreme was the long-caged creature the Gold
had released.

     And there was also a third. Scully had the sense of it, Jake
realized. Back in D.C. during that stay of his in the hospital,
the
lovely Dr. Scully had allowed herself to be coaxed to answer
Jake's
questions about her partner mostly because she admitted that
Mulder
would never talk about himself. Jake had asked about the
psychology
doctorate and Scully had briefly described Mulder's profiling
years
with the Behavioral Science Unit. Though she related only facts,
her pride, even awe in his achievements, had come through
clearly.
A cloud had fallen over her, however, when Jake asked why Mulder
didn't do this work any more.

     "Oh, he does, but not often. The other agents find 'Spooky'
unsettling. I think Mulder does, too."

     And that was all that she said but the comment had stuck in
Jake's mind. So there were three and only Fox even began to fit
in
here.

     Another group of beautiful bodies came suddenly into view.
They were all equally dressed or undressed for swimming. They
were
playing with a Frisbee and two couples were playing 'chicken' in
the gentle breakers, the girls on the guys shoulders, the girls
using soft boffer weapons to try to knock each other off. The sea
air was full of their good-natured cries as they called to one
another. There were screams and laughter as one of the girls
overbalanced and sent herself and her partner toppling into the
waves.

There was only one sad face to be seen and that was Fox's as he
stared almost wistfully down on the group.

     Mulder has lost his sister and his youth. In so doing, Fox
had
been left behind, locked in a box with just a few air holes.
Enough
to survive, but with no room to grow.

     Softly, Jake joined Fox at the rail and carefully placed his
hand on his shoulder. There was no tightness now and no attempt
to
move away.

     Jake passed his free arm out over the glittering green and
white and blue of the fairyland spread before them. "You have to
admit, the atmosphere are better than that old furnace and they
even have decent room service."

     Fox kept his eyes on the sea and the group heading away from
them now, back towards the resort. Jake could almost hear what he
was thinking.

     So beautiful, so unreal. This was his chance. No cases here.
No duties to perform. No responsibilities. And nothing done here
would ever be remembered by anyone.

     It was Fox's voice that spoke, though a little shaky with
Mulder's overtones. "So you think that there would be buyers for
our contacts? You really do?"

     Nimble and graceful and as pleased with himself as a cat,
Jake
reclined on the wide railing and struck a blatantly seductive
pose.
"A matched set like us? Oh, my beautiful one - as Elliot would
say
- in a heart beat. And everyone will get what they want. You'll
get
a little vacation - the type of which you never dreamed about.
The
Club saves its reputation and makes a profit. The lovely Scully
gets a chance to come to the rescue and you're out nice and quiet
and in time in time to put the cuffs on Forsyth."

     Fox turned his head to catch his reflection in the glass of
the balcony door. He had to raise a hand to touch his cheek as if
to be to be certain which was the reflection. Again, Jake knew
what
Fox was thinking. Their thoughts were frighteningly similar on
certain topics.

     They had never looked so good, not ever. It sent a chill up
one's spine. Such beauty is fleeting. The young don't understand;
that knowledge only comes with years. Still for this special
moment
it made one feel powerful, strong, and eager to live.

     There were no more Mulder overtones the next time Fox spoke.
"There's another player we haven't mentioned in a while. What
about
her? Where is she now? Is she here?" He didn't mean Scully. He
meant the 'She' who had been inside his blood and bones and who
might still be entwined about his veins and nerves just as they
were twined around Jake's. "Are we only just going through this
for
her?"

     "If so then we're like fish on a line. She's letting us
squirm
but all the debating in the world won't change a thing, we'll
still
do what she wants. Yes, she is around somewhere - between us,
over
us, under us, in us. I've never known where she goes when I'm not
physically aware of her like now. My guess is that we are free of
her for the time being. She should be well and truly satiated at
least for the moment."

     "But you're not sure of that, are you?" Fox asked, already
looking off down the beach towards the white buildings in the
sun,
wondering what he would see there, what it would feel like to
walk
with a friend down that beach.

     Naked under the sky.

     Scary as hell like a new lover's cool fingers trailing up
your
spine.

     "This is life, Fox. Nothing is certain, especially here.
That's kind of exciting, don't you think?"

End of Chapter 10
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (11/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

See disclaimer in Chapter 1.

Chapter 11

     Getting Mulder out of the suite the next morning was like
trying to force a reluctant mule. No, Jake thought, chagrined
as he
remembered the early morning hours of the day before Lisa and
Elliot's arrival, not like a mule. Definitely, not like a mule.
Being late, they trotted along the shell encrusted paths wearing
the sleek, low-cut footwear most of the island's inhabitants
favored and which was the only choice available for thralls for
day
wear unless they had some special assignment. The 'mocs' gave
better arch support than thin canvas slip-on's and had a firm
sole
and closed toes which made them practical for the island's sandy
soil and the landscape architect's prodigious use of the
decorative
but painfully sharp oyster shells for walkways. In addition, they
were far less bulky than your typical athletic shoe and were
provided only in each thrall's own skin tone so that from any
distance a thrall appeared to be wearing nothing at all which
was,
after all, the intended impression.

     Besides the mocs, the only garment the two wore was a
specially constructed beech cloth which gave support where it was
needed and yet was oh-so-tantalizing. Even now Jake could feel
the
butt panel flap high against the back of his thighs. He had
become
used to it, but it was the wearing of this garment - and only
this
garment - which had made Mulder bulk and forced Jake to repeat
nearly all his arguments from the day before.

     Once outside and with the first hundred yards of their jog
complete, Mulder took a reluctant and surly back seat to that
side
of his personality that Jake had learned to identify as Fox. Fox
was less repressed, more outgoing, and clearly content, even
pleased, at how well his body moved. He ran with a strong, easy
grace. Considering what was in store for them this was fortunate.
Even as stoned as he was, the Cavern's attendant had clearly
exercised Forsyth's 'companion' well.

     How had they managed that? Jake wondered. Had they strapped
the drugged man to a tread mill and hit him with straps or low
voltage cattle prods to make him run and then run faster? Jake
shuddered but that was, after all, what the attendants were hired
to do and what the clients expected. The residents had to be kept
in perfect, perfect condition. They'd used the tanning booth,
too.
Inside Mulder had looked good after the shivers and the shakes
from
withdrawal of the hallucinogenic had abated. Outside in the
sun, he
was glorious.

     I look like that, Jake marveled. Elliot and Lisa had
actually
hesitated when they'd had to tell them apart and they knew
'Jacob'
inside and out.

     Most of the time Jake closed his mind from thinking about
how
he looked. So many of the other thralls were narcissistic about
their appearance, preening before the mirrors in the Green Room
after the room's attendants had prepared them for whatever role
they had been assigned to assume for the day. Jake always kept
his
eyes averted. He wasn't on the island to indulge his ego but to
save some scrap of his sanity.

     Intrigued by Jake's arguments and descriptions of the
island,
Fox had allowed himself to be taken on a tour of the main Staff
Complex the evening before. Jake took him first to the Dormitory
where he had his tiny Spartan room with its hard, narrow cot.
Jake
did not mention that until his bruising which had taken him
temporarily out of circulation, he had spent less than a few
hours
in that bed over the past weeks. He did, however, have to explain
its barrenness, that possession of personal property, like many
other rights, was denied this lowest, and yet most critical,
component of the Club's staff. They had also viewed one of the
many
Green Rooms. The make up room of a large modern dance troop must
look much like one of these. A place to prepare the body as if it
were an 'object d'arte'.

     Fox had observed but made no comment on either of these. He
remained silent as they toured the physical therapy room which
would have done any college athletic program proud. He was
similarly taciturn as he viewed the clinic. Finally they came
to a
large room furnished with long rows of identical white tables.
Here
the special attendants massaged strained muscles and joints on
over-stressed thrall bodies. This last morgue-like room brought
Mulder's frown to the surface and a far-away look to sad eyes.

     Jake knew why he had showed Fox these things and not the
island's emerald hills, sapphire pools or crystal waterfalls. He
had been trying to add weight to his arguments that the slaves -
for slaves were what they were for all the emotional weight that
term carried - were well cared for.

     "Even the Mafia take their pedigreed dogs to the vet,"
Mulder
had summarized in flat tones. He'd meant for the comment to be
more
of his dry humor, only the light never reached his eyes.

     Long before, Jake had decided not to show his 'cousin' the
gaming halls. These activities centered on placing bets on silly
contests that all seemed designed to test how much degradation a
human being could bear. At least, this was how Jake saw them. He
could take the physical sadism as long as it was done in
private -
he'd even learned on a certain level to enjoy it as long as it
was
Lisa or Elliot laying on the strokes - but public debasement? No,
that was the worst though he tried not to let his feelings show.
The trainers were quick to pick up on that sort of thing. What a
thrall didn't like was what they steered him or her towards. That
was what thralls supposedly signed up for - to push the edge of
the
envelope, to discover their personal limitations of arousal and
then exceed those.

     Appeasing one's own personal succubus was apparently not
part
of the normal regime.

     That you weren't a person to the clients, just a toy, a
prop,
an extra in their own personal erotic film, helped but not much.
The emotional stress made the sex that always followed that much
more intense. Jake always tried to downplay that part though he
always found himself responding, even actively participating.
It's
Alex, he told himself, and even if it wasn't, Alex would just
punish him later for not providing her with the level of
entertainment she had learned to expect.

     Both men blew softly and shook out arm and leg muscles as
they
slowed from their jog to a cooling walk. They had entered the
quad
around which the dormitory and other staff buildings were
located.
The Green Room was their day's first destination. It had all been
spelled out clearly on the island's computer system that
morning -
Thralls Jacob and Isaac were ordered to report to booths nine and
ten of Green Room B, Main Complex at nine a.m.

     The continual surreal implications of their names had not
escaped Jake. Was this sacrifice of Mulder's integrity and
pride on
this Bacchusian altar really necessary? Was there another way
around their dilemma which both of them had missed?

     It always came around to the question how much of what was
going on was Alex's doing?

     Fox halted under a low-hanging cabbage palm to stare at the
utilitarian white building he had toured the night before. It was
nearly invisible behind the stone wall and riot of green foliage.
This was how 'back stage' at Disney World must look. No fancy
architecture here. Save that for the paying guests. Clean and
simple was sufficient.

     "You haven't said," Fox asked, his voice as emotionless as
only Mulder could manage, "what did Lisa mean yesterday by
'races'?"

     He had to be told sooner or later. "Chariot races. They're
Lisa's passion. She's chosen us to pull hers today. Run well;
she'll expect to win even though she usually doesn't. She tends
to
choose beauty over brawn."

     "'Matched pair', " Fox remembered, the phrase making more
sense now.

     "Lisa's Miss Perfection around here. Top handler, The Club's
most demanding and skilled trainer. It's an honor."

     "Oh, I'm honored," Fox drawled, sarcastically.

     "Just run fast, which I know you can do, and don't
complain no
matter what happens and you'll be fine. Just follow me. In fact,
don't talk at all once we leave the Complex grounds. There are no
talking beasts here, not unless you're given leave."

     With that Jake moved forward, not allowing himself to catch
the dismay on his companion's face. He didn't hear echoing
footsteps for the first few yards but by the time he had reached
the security checkpoint and was scanning in his bracelet, Fox was
behind him reluctantly holding out 'Isaac's' own wrist ID for the
scanner. Within seconds a door breathed open and with one final
glance at Fox's pale face, Jacob slipped into the cool interior
and
his shadow followed.

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     An hour after Jacob and Isaac had entered the white, sun-
washed quad of the Main Staff Complex, an aged attendant in a
Greek
chitin unlocked an iron gate in a secluded corner of the Club's
public gardens. More than anything he made one think of Chiron,
Ferryman of the River Styx. Through the gate he allowed to pass
two
tanned and lean male figures. The fancifully wrought nymphs and
satyrs that made up the majority of the gate's decoration caught
the eye of one of the two young men. Other than the way this one
stared wide-eyed at what the nymphs and satyrs were doing, no one
could say that one was taller than the other, or one leaner or
less
muscular. No one could say that the darker one did this and the
fairer one did that or that the older walked first and the
younger
last because in all these things they were identical.

     Thanks to a little plastic skin and makeup, scars on both
sides were covered and both wore the same identical beauty mark
on
his right cheek. Their skins glowed an identical reddish gold
thanks to the copious amounts of colored oils that had been
rubbed
by experts into their skin. Both faces were a credit to the
makeup
artist's craft, revealing strong sculptured planes and high
cheekbones that were both too beautifully stylized and yet too
completely animal to be real. Shadow and eyeliner as well as
heavily tinted contacts made both pair of eyes as huge and darkly
beautiful as the great eyes of wise stags.

     What did they wear? Embarrassingly little, at least for one.
Identical wigs draped a forelock of black hair between the wide
eyes, while behind manes flowed down like dark tides across
shoulders and backs. All they wore above their waists was a
leather
strap studded with brass that encircled their chests. This was
held
in place with shoulder straps. A heavy belt was slung low on
their
hips and supported what those who wore them called a 'sling'
which
was somehow a cross between a fig leaf and an athletic cup.
What it
was called didn't matter. Both of the men were rather desperately
happy to have even that. It was the only protection delicate male
physiology had from the hazards of the outside world.

     Only in two ways were the two not visibly identical. One of
them wore a red bracelet and his expression was that of long-
practiced calm. The other wore a green bracelet ('Green for your
patron's money,' he had been told by the first) and he openly
scowled once the distraction of the iron gate had passed. This
one
stopped in the dense shade of an exotic tree over-flowing with
red-
orange blossoms and looked back and down now at his tail that was
another way in which they were alike. Attached to the heavy belt,
the three feet of thick, genuine horsehair seemed to have a
life of
its own. Its black river flicked erratically back and forth like
the real thing as if swatting invisible flies.

     "It's motor driven," 'Jacob' had whispered confidentially in
the Green Room as a very numb 'Isaac' had waited to be fitted.
"They have the action down to the 'T', don't you think? Not too
much movement, but enough, and almost all the weight is in the
tail
itself."

     What Isaac thought was that, like the sling that protected
all
the little Mulders in his future, the tail was damn irritating.
It
flicked disturbingly across his bare calves, the backs of naked
thighs and other sensitive skin even higher up which wasn't
accustomed to seeing the light of day or the touch of a breeze.
The
only good thing about the costume in Fox's estimation was that
his
own mother wouldn't have recognized him. Oh, Scully might, who'd
seen more of his naked flesh than anyone since his pediatrician
or
the guys at the gym, but other than that, no one had. Granted,
when
Scully had seen him so he was usually unconscious and bleeding.

     "It's distracting."

     "It looks great. Very suggestive."

     "Yeah, of what?"

     "Just be glad that Lisa takes her racing seriously. She's
concentrating on speed. The things I've seen. The Europeans, for
example, are far more inventive than we are. I've seen carts
pulled
by teams of six in full harness, bits and bridles and down on all
fours. This," Jake tossed his head to get the forelock to move
momentarily out of his Belladonna eyes, "this is Halloween
stuff."

     "Not in my neighborhood," Fox quipped, sulking for effect.

     Jake grinned, the white teeth bright in the shade and
against
the darkened skin. "Not in mine either, but what the hell. Prance
to it or we'll be late."

     "You enjoy this?"

     "Why not? This is one of the most becoming and comfortable
costumes I've been given since I've been here. Besides, I think
we
have a real chance of winning."

     Isaac rolled his dark eyes and merely snorted in reply.

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     Lisa was overjoyed when they appeared at her door. She
wore a
thin, diaphanous linen shift and mounds of gold and blue jewelry
such as you see in Egyptian tomb paintings. The fabric was so
sheer
that she could have easily have been wearing nothing at all,
except, of course, the jewelry. Two house thralls brought round
the
golden chariot that looked like a copy of the one Yul Brenner had
once stood upon just before the Red Sea devastated his armies.
Straps clipped the traces to their shoulder harness but those
were
used only for holding the traces when the pair was standing still
or at most moving at a gentle walk. For going at any speed the
two
either pushed on their side of a central T-bar or pulled the
traces
like a rickshaw. Lisa then clipped on the reins that also
attached
to the shoulder harness. With the reins she could at least
pretend
to be driving her handsome pair.

      Before twirling into the chariot's box, Lisa took time to
run
her hands down their strong backs, tight buttocks and long legs
as
if checking on the soundness of her beasts. Then with a practiced
snap of the reins and a flick of her sharp-tongued whip they were
off. Fox jumped at the first kiss of the whip. It was a little
thing, not meant to do any real damage, but it stung!

     The race was being run less than half a mile from the villa.
The course was laid out on the dense, packed sand right at the
ocean's edge. At the smell of sea and the sound of the breakers,
Fox almost forgot where he was which was just as well because his
presence predicament was so bizarre that he had nearly forgotten
_who_ he was. As they approached the large crowd of three hundred
or more milling about at the edge of the sand, however, he did
feel
a ball of quite solid lead materialize in his stomach.

     "Think of this as just a college frat prank," Jake suggested
as they had trotted towards the course. "Founder's day bed races
and toga parties." Fox managed to cling possessively to that
comparison but only until the first cluster of diamond strewn
matrons strolled over with their crystal wine glasses and score
cards to view the Mistress's new team close up. From the sweat
beading up on that oiled skin, Fox's anxiety was clearly growing
with every pace.

     As Lisa steered them through the mob towards a less crowded
section of beach. Isaac yelped and jumped about two feet straight
into the air. Lisa merely laughed her deep, wild laugh and
clucked
her tongue in an effort to move them along more quickly.

     "Someone pinched me!" Fox hissed to his teammate. Jake
grinned
or at least his eyes did, the rest of his face was busy assuming
that indifferent and mysterious model's expression, which Fox had
been told was the preferred one but which, so far, he had been
unable to maintain for more than two minutes at a time. A hybrid
between frustration and bewilderment probably best described his
general expression.

     Unfortunately, most of the crowd of older ladies followed
them. They were soon joined by some linen-suited businessmen with
sharply evaluating eyes.

     "Be as angry as you want inside, only try not to show it,"
Jake warned, well aware that though Fox may predominate, Mulder
would have his say. "Your face just radiates that righteous
indignation of yours. These people don't care any more about your
feelings than they do about your brain. They only care about the
outside and whatever fantasy of theirs they can relate to that."
Jake's own features went suitably blank again. "Think the perfect
English butler. How they must have hated the upper class."

     Though somewhat appeased, Fox's frown seemed permanently
affixed to his face. "The perfect English butler didn't have his
butt hanging out for all the world to pinch a piece of."

     Jake sighed deeply in an attempt to hide a creeping smile.
"Just try."

     The muscles relaxed, just a little. Noting Jake's approving
nod, Fox hissed, "But if I hear 'Oh, Lisa, where did you ever get
them?' one more time as if we were a pair of collie puppies, I'm
going to kick someone."

     Jake kicked first, aiming at his teammate but not with as
much
force as he could have. "None of that unless you want to have a
bit
and bridle and blinders added to the ensemble. There are those
here
who would like nothing better than to oblige." Jake then
whispered
lower than low, "And no more Mr. Ed stuff either, not when there
are clients around. We're not supposed to be able to talk."

     Fox clamped his mouth shut after that and kept it shut even
when one Italian fellow who looked like the Godfather's brother
tried to look at his teeth. Good thing, too, or he would have
forgotten his kindergarten teacher's cardinal rule. 'Well brought
up boys and girls don't bite.'

     Then again, maybe being 'well brought up' didn't count here?
By then the man had moved away and Fox had missed his chance. Too
bad, the guy was an asshole.

     Despite Mulder's smoldering moral outrage and a few more ill
timed pinches, Fox found his spirits responding to the
joviality of
the crowd, to the loud, good-natured betting and to the perfect
weather. He still burned with shame, but at least wearing the
disguise he also felt oddly invisible as if he really were
someone
else for the time being and not even a 'someone'. Just a set
piece
in the play, another soldier in the ranks, another ornament on
the
tree, one of the steeds from the Mistress's racing stable for the
day.

     There certainly were other teams attracting attention and,
as
Jake had commented, the various fanciful harnesses they wore
certainly made their own look sedate by comparison. Fox could not
have found the words to express his relief that Lisa had
concentrated on showing off their physical uniqueness though
there
were others as striking. There were several pairs of Blacks. One
was decked out in pounds of brilliant gold harness and one in
red.
There was also a pair of genuine albinos in black harness who
stood
blinking behind dark blinders. Most were male teams but there
were
a few female ones - tall, strong, statuesque women who wore
only as
little as comfort and protection demanded. Fox felt his mouth go
dry in their presence.

     The call for the first race came quickly. In their first
heat
Lisa's entry was matched against one of the pairs of muscular
males. They were as black as ebony with shaved heads. There was
no
harness anywhere on these two and their teeth blazed as they
displayed brazen grins.

     "Last season's champions," Jake murmured under his breath.
They did look strong, but to Fox's competitive eye, not fast.
He'd
run track in high school and college and hadn't done badly. All
he'd needed to do to win was envision all the bad things that
have
happened in his life running on his heels. That's a lot of
incentive. With this two, however, Fox didn't need any more
motivation than the haughty challenge in their black eyes.

     Caught up in the excitement surrounding the preparations for
the race, this new challenge, Jake's companionship and his own
escalating adrenaline high, it was easy to forget where he was
and
what he had allowed himself to become. Maybe the blessed
forgetfulness would even last into tomorrow. By then surely...
she
would come.

     Please, oh ye Fates, Federal Express, and American Airlines,
please no later than that.

End of chapter 11
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (12/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

See chapter 1 for disclaimer.

Chapter 12

     Three teams ran in each heat. Lisa's team and their black
opponents had already been shooting testosterone bullets at each
other for longer than was good for them when the third team for
this first heat trotted up. Two blond bombshells. Two tall,
strong,
incredible Bavarian beauties. Their golden manes reached to their
strong, slender waists and their matching golden tails nearly
brushed the ground. The two didn't look alike except that they
were
of nearly the same height and build and wore identical
expressions.
Disdain. Pure and simple. Oh, ye lowly male scum.

     Once he comprehended this pair's obvious opinion of the male
of the species, Fox's competitive spirit spiked half a dozen
additional points.

     With minimal confusion, they lined up, three teams abreast
on
the solid sand. Mulder felt a tugging on his shoulder harness
from
behind as Lisa took a couple more wraps on the reins. Nearly too
late he realized that they needed tactics of their own. As he dug
his feet solidly into the hard sand, his palms felt damp.
Better to
push on forward with the T-bar then risk his hands slipping on
the
handles of the traces.

     It was time, almost time. The loud, sizeable crowd grew
suddenly quiet. There was just the gentle and eternal crash of
the
waves breaking on the shore.

     A gun sounded somewhere, far too close for Fox. It triggered
a reaction in Mulder to crouch and reach for his weapon. He did
neither. What he did do was watch both the other chariots leap
ahead as he hesitated. Clamping down on his jaw and throwing out
his chin, he would have sprung forward in that instant if it
weren't for the graceful shield maidens. As they drew ahead, they
raised in unison their golden tails to reveal.... lovely
asses....
oh, such lovely asses. Fox's mouth went bone dry at the same time
he was aware of a swift, uncomfortable tightness in the sling. He
finally stumbled forward but only because Jake dragged him and
his
side of the cart the first twenty yards of the race.

     In his stupor, Fox didn't even hear Lisa's good-natured oath
that accompanied her reference to dumb studs, but the sting of
the
whip around his ears he certainly felt. Face hot with
embarrassment
under its oiled, red-gold tan, he grasped his side of the T-bar,
bent his back and plowed forward, toes digging into the sand
again
and again for traction, thigh muscles pumping. It wasn't a pretty
race and much harder than pulling the chariot on the island's
smooth roads, but it was Jake who was nearly dragged across the
finish line at the end by Fox's incredible sprint. As they stood
gasping, a triumphant grin broke Jake's correct, aloof demeanor.
They had won.

     The crowd had gone wild around them. The description was not
cliche. These rich, bored people acted as if the home team had
just
hit a home run in the World Series with all bases loaded or
that an
amazing 'Hail Mary' pass had won the Super Bowl.

     Fox stood catching his own breath. Bent over, hands on
knees,
his amazed eyes took in the festivities around him. He was
beginning to understand a few things. If this strange community
had
royalty, they were Lisa and Elliot and it was good to see your
queen win, especially when the win was hard fought and Her
Majesty
clearly wanted it so badly.  The fact that she won with this
striking new team and after such a dismal start, added to the
acclaim. To Fox's dismay, the win also focused even more
attention
on them than there had been upon their arrival.

     Lisa was down from the chariot's box now, accepting the
congratulations of the milling, cheering crowds. Coming around to
her team, she pulled Jacob's head down to give it a quick embrace
between her nearly naked and ample breasts. When she came to her
new beast's head, however, she merely tapped him good-naturedly
on
the jaw with her closed hand as if to warn him to keep his mind
on
business next time. When she passed behind him to walk back to
the
chariot's box, she followed up the tap with an unexpected swat to
his buttocks that made Fox jump and the crowd laugh. Worse
indignity, as she was turning the chariot around, the cart
drawn by
the two blond beauties passed directly across their bow. As if
these Brunhilda found him just one more example of unexceptional
breeding stock, the right hand member of the blond team stepped
on
Fox's foot as they trotted back to the head of the line for their
next heat. As Fox swore, Jake raised his eyes heavenward towards
the impossible blue of the sky.

     The next heat was against two new opponents, another team of
amazons and two beautiful young men who seemed barely out of
their
teens. The race's outcome was clear from the beginning. A strong,
pumping start and a solid pull through to the finish won Lisa's
team its second heat. No problem. There was less excitement this
time as if everyone was just waiting for the final.

     Back at the start waiting for the heat before theirs to
finish, one of the attendants brought round a wineskin and sent a
stream of water into their mouths and across their heated faces.
The fiction of their equine status seemed even stronger now that
everyone had race fever. No one spoke to any of the 'horses' as
if
they really were nothing more than dumb beasts that just happened
to also be handsome running machines. The behavioral analyst in
Mulder found this fascinating, while the Fox in him was just damn
glad that this activity was not only minimally sexual so far, but
was taking up such a good chunk of the day - the day that Mulder
had dreaded so completely. Being just another object and not Fox
Mulder, FBI representative and the most attractive man in a
suit in
the room, provided its own anonymity. Their current disguise was
also better than many Fox's increasingly stimulated brain could
have thought of. And then there was Jake who could appear
magnificently at ease and proud as a peacock at the same time. It
was like having a big brother who had a varsity letter sewed to
his
jacket and who was on the same relay team or in the same football
squad as Fox himself. The fact that Jake wasn't wearing
anything he
could sew a letter on didn't significantly ruin the comparison.

     Before they ran the final everyone took a break - racing
stock
included. On the assumption that Jacob and Isaac would want to be
'off duty' for a few minutes to trade war stories about the races
with their own kind, Lisa unclipped the traces from their harness
and sent them down the beach where there was a 'watering hole'.
The
stallions and mares gathered there on race days to stock up on
juice and sandwiches. There were no geldings in this herd. Mulder
didn't hurry. Not only did he know better than to eat so soon
before a race but also there was only one person's
companionship he
wanted besides Jake's at that moment and she was far away.

     Good thing too, he thought as his tail swished against his
calves.

     "How do you feel?" Jake asked, as they walked slowly along
the
edge of the surf. He was in no more of a hurry to reach the
others
than Fox was.

     There was a long pause during which a breeze stirred sending
a chill across all the bare inches of flesh on his body and there
was a lot of that. In all the excitement Fox had almost forgotten
how nearly naked he was. "A little wicked," he finally replied.

     "Only a little?" They walked on a few yards. "Maybe I
shouldn't tell you this but I saw you smiling when we won. Agent
Mulder was actually enjoying himself."

     Fox stopped dead, his feet sinking into the sand.

     "Don't worry," Jake whispered, conspiratorially, before
going
on alone, "We won't tell Scully about that either."

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     Jake's dizzying comment occupied Fox nearly until the final
heat was called. This race would be against the two finalists
only.
The sudden quieting of the omnipresent roar from the crowd
startled
Fox into wakefulness. A heretofore unseen pair of tall, muscular
men of some pacific lineage lined up beside them. They were
literally champing at their bits. They were taller than Lisa's
pair
and had somewhat more muscle. Fox reconsidered the advantages of
strength. On the dragging sand, a little extra muscle was not
such
a bad idea. The ache in his legs and his shoulders told him
that he
wished he had worked out himself a bit more before this. It was a
testament to the shock he was still in that his brain refused to
think anywhere beyond the boundaries of this fantasy meet -not
before and not after. He never even questioned how he had come to
have achieved his current and not unsubstantial level of physical
conditioning. He was too busy sizing up his opponents.

     These were the first team that acted wild and certainly
looked
wild and barbaric in their red and purple harness. They moved
like
panthers. The whites of their eyes rolled and there were flecks
of
foam on their lips. Their mahogany skins were running with sweat.
Their faces were not impersonal but filled with an icy aloofness
for their rivals. All in all they were pretty intimidating
opponents but Fox had run away from schoolyard bullies, Russian
gulag guards on horseback, American soldiers in Jeeps, an
exploding
oil well, and a collapsing ice field. He had nothing to fear from
these two. He glanced over at Jake who was taking firmer grip on
his end of the T-bar and was pleased to see as much eager
determination in his teammate's face as Fox knew was on his own.

     The gun went off. This time Agent Mulder's trained reactions
to the shot were nowhere in evidence. Fox planted his feet, threw
every ounce of his weight against the bar and flew.

     This was a longer race and the red and purple team must have
watched Ben Hur a few hundred times to get all the dirty tricks
down. They lost only because Fox had seen the movie, too;
Charlton
Heston - though he had first become exposed to him from watching
Planet of the Apes about a dozen times - had been one of young
Fox's matinee idols. Also, Fox and Jake just ran well in tandem.
They strides matched and they clearly took a real delight in each
other's speed and strength.

     The longer race nearly got Jake, however, who didn't have
Fox's experience of going beyond his limits - not when it came to
running towards or away from nasties anyway. Feeling the pace of
the man at his side falter, Fox saw in a minisecond glance that
Jake had overextended. 'Run through it!' Fox shouted in his mind
towards the other even as they hit a patch of even softer sand
that
snatched even more stubbornly at the chariot's wheels. As if
hearing, Jake hunkered down lower into the bar, face like stone,
and pushed on.

     They did win, a clear victory but only at the very end and
that made the winning feel all the sweeter.

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     Jake stumbled to a halt just after the finish line, thrown
off
balance by Lisa hauling back on the reins. Damn Lisa and her
games
and her little whip or Mulder would have pulled on for a bit to
get
them out of the crowd and walk the lactic acid out of their
muscles. Jake hadn't been willing to go against Lisa's clear
desires, however. Besides, it was clear that Fox's teammate
wouldn't get too much farther anytime soon. He was gulping air
like
a landed trout and his left hand was pressed firmly against what
was obviously a stitch in his side. Fox sympathized - Those
hurt! -
 but the reaction of the crowd concerned him more.

     He shouldn't have worried. From her perch in her golden
chariot Lisa was happily receiving the accolades of her adoring
public and they were happy to supply them. Fine, let her, let
them.
It meant they were leaving Jake and himself alone for the moment.
Both could certainly use the breathing time. As he analyzed the
inexplicable attention Lisa was getting, Mulder made a resolution
that the next time he watched the Kentucky Derby on television,
that he'd give some thought to the poor horse who had, after all,
done all the work. The media always surrounded the trainers and
the
owners with their cameras and their microphones. All the poor
horse
got was some hot and heavy blanket of flowers when what he really
wanted was a drink of water, a hot meal, and a day off in a
pasture
with some mare ...

     No, Spooky, you do not want to go there.

     Lisa finally leaped from the box of the chariot, laughing
and
waving. She embraced both of them this time, not minding if the
oil
from their sweating skins stained her cobweb-thin dress. She even
ruffled the hair of their hot black wigs but her eyes barely met
their eyes, as if at the moment they were in fact no more than
good
beasts that had pleased her. Fox didn't mind. He had run for
himself and for all the little league games with a brother he had
never had.

     "Hey, look at you," Lisa exclaimed, unexpectedly. She was
admiring how 'Isaac' was lifting his legs and how quickly his
breathing was returning to normal. "You on fire for another race,
my stiff-necked one?"

     'No, just on fire to...' but Fox managed to keep his
murderous
thoughts to himself, in fact wouldn't even finish that thought
even
to himself. All he knew was that his legs were going to cramp
if he
didn't get moving soon which didn't look likely as the crowd had
them completely encircled.

     Salvation came in the form of Elliot who appeared out of
nowhere. He was also dressed in old Egyptian style, which meant
stripped to the waist and barelegged. He carried two towels
that he
handed to each of them to wipe their sweating faces. Fox found
that
his hands fumbled. He had almost forgotten that he had hands that
could do anything besides grasp the bar before him or the
traces at
his sides. Elliot saw the hesitation and his knowing, cajoling
eyes
reached out to touch them both not man-to-beast or even master-
to-
slave but person-to-person. Fox was beginning to see why Jake
loved
this man so. Elliot Slater played the game as hard as any, but on
some level he never forgot it was a game. He laughed at himself
as
well as others. It was he who kept the surging crowd from getting
too close and too personal. It was he who unhooked them from the
cart, then took towels and rubbed their backs. To his credit he
didn't attempt anything even remotely rude even though he had a
perfect opportunity and the perfect right considering their
respective stations in this place. He merely gestured over to a
grove of trees and conveyed to Jake, almost apologetically, that
they could rest a bit but that then they needed to lay out lunch
soon. Jake bowed in acknowledgement; he knew what to do. Finally
Elliot faded into a crowd, probably in search of the celebrating
Lisa.

     The grass was deep under the trees and cool. Jake threw
himself down in a hallow and groaned. For the first time Fox
realized how completely his 'cousin' had pushed himself. Fox
walked, stretching overstrained muscles. Warily, he eyed the huge
hampers and coolers that were lined up next to piles of rolled
rugs
and cushions. These people were certainly Victorian in their idea
of a picnic. Finally feeling that his muscles wouldn't freeze
anytime soon, Fox also lay down on his stomach on the springy
grass. It felt wonderful. His head pillowed by his arms and the
heavy tresses of the wig, he allowed his body, ever so
slightly, to
relax.

     The people's voices seemed just so much white noise now,
like
the roar of the ocean on the Vineyard. The little bit of sun that
filtered through the trees was warm on his back. Why had he never
taken Scully anyplace like this? He didn't mean the race, he
meant
to someplace warm and peaceful like this. Well, there was that
one
time but that was years before, early in their partnership and
for
some reason the memory was all rather fuzzy. (See Revelations 3:
The Vacation, fall 99.) She would like it here. If he closed his
eyes, he could dream she was beside him again in that pale green
swimsuit of hers. What a stunning little body she had. If he had
her here now, if he did....

     His tail, his dumb tail, took that moment to flick. It
brought
him out of his near doze and the beautiful dream with a start and
a string of swear words. Still swearing, he leaped to his feet
and
tried to find where the catch was for the damn belt, or maybe
he'd
just pull the damn thing out by its roots.

     Jake was instantly at his side, holding onto Fox's wrists
with
all his strength, his warm body with its cooling sweat pressed up
warningly against the other man's skin.

     "Stop it, Fox! Goddamn it, man, stop it!" he growled,
sharply,
though its volume was scarcely above a stage whisper.

     For several long moment it was muscle against muscle and
grief
against fear. Fox's grief against Jake's fear, fear of what that
grief would drive the agent to do.

     A little echo of Mulder's sanity wondered if this was one of
those pools of quicksand Jake had worried about.

     "We're in a good position now," Jake warned, earnestly.
"Don't
blow it. I know it hurts, I'm sorry it hurts. I thought you'd
come
around to understand this place but if not then you'll just
have to
endure. I have a feeling that you know all about that." Here in
the
shade, it was hard to see clearly through the dark contacts, but
Fox's soul had seldom looked out of bleaker eyes.

     "You were thinking of her, weren't you?" Jake surmised.
"She'll come. I know she'll come. Neither heaven nor hell would
keep her away." Jake's voice was steady because he realized that
Mulder had finally found an anchor there: his certainty that she
would come. She would sweep him up in her arms and bear her
away to
someplace safe - and normal. The romance novel scenario - and its
twisted reversals - was so vivid that Mulder found himself
leaning
weakly against Jake's restraining hands with his head thrown back
as he chuckled a little in a slightly hysterical way.

     Jake just shook his head, hands releasing the other man's
wrists. Finally, he stepped away and headed towards the
mountain of
supplies. "You are one weird puppy, Fox. Come on, we have a
picnic
to set up."

     Fox let out a deep sigh from somewhere deep inside and
with it
went most of his anger. A picnic... "And you say I'm weird." In
command again, or as much as he could manage under the
circumstances, he came over to help. "Is there anything in there
for us?"

     Jake grinned. "You want something besides Lisa's undying
gratitude? That means a lot, by the way." He held out a small
wicker box. "Here's some oat bread and some apples and carrots.
How
does that sound?"

     Fox grimaced and reached for a small apple. "Just as long as
we're not on the menu."

     "You never know," Jake responded and he wasn't smiling.

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     The reception went on and on. Numbed by the crush of people
and the odd way they reacted to him, Fox was reminded of a family
reunion the Mulders had attended when he was about ten and Sam
was
six. No, not a reunion, it was the gathering after a funeral
for a
wealthy great aunt. Often the two occasions amount to the same
thing. His father had despised the event so completely that he
had
immediately broken ties with that entire branch of the family
as he
had all the others. They had never heard from any of them again.
The Mulders of Martha's Vineyard had been lonely group. From this
last family funeral, however, Fox did remember that the children
were expected to pass the hors d'oeuvres and desserts and fill
the
glasses for the old folks in their somber black. It was an old
New
England custom that the matriarchs used such occasions to put the
young folk on display and check their manners and their breeding.
All the old ladies ruffled his hair and went on about what a
handsome boy he would be if only he weren't quite so skinny and
quite so clumsy and assured him that he would probably grow into
his nose in time. Funny, he had never been sensitive about that
particular feature until then.

     This picnic and Fox's place in it was like that long ago day
only the old people weren't quite so old and not all of those
standing in judgement were women. Many were those men in linen
suits and by noon there wasn't one inch of his body that hadn't
been pinched, stroked or tickled by degrees. One red-faced, beefy
trucking tycoon had even tweaked his nose.

     Fox wanted a shower very, very badly.

     'Isaac' was called by Lisa to fill her glass only she held
it
so low that he would have to lean down quite a long way to reach
it. Her diaphanous robe had gotten torn and barely covered
anything
any more and there was nothing on underneath. Nothing.

     As he hesitated, she gazed boldly up at him, perfectly aware
of the affect she produced. In a voice only he could hear, she
told
him in that particular tone of wicked sincerity she had, "I will
bend that stiff neck of yours yet, Isaac, and I won't let your
contract go until I do." To that he did bend. To reach her glass,
it was necessary. In response her laugh was like ice in crystal.

     "Too easy. I was hoping for more of a challenge. We'll see
if
you're as obedient in a more private situation."

     And here he was hoping to get home sometime before next
Christmas.

     As if she had caught his thought, she leaned back against
her
pile of large pillows, cradling her glass. "Like Jacob, you're
tricky and you're smart. I like that. It means you're worth the
trouble I know you're going to cause me."

     As if moving in a surreal dream, he bowed away from her
jeering smile and headed towards the coolers to obtain a fresh
bottle of champagne. Only one thought was uppermost in his
mind. He
prayed that Scully also felt he was worth the trouble.

     Eventually, the party wound down though there was still
twenty
people or more lingering about the grounds. Fox moved in a daze
now, shocked by the continual attack on his senses - an attack
that
involved more than stray hands on his skin. Most of the clients
had
thralls with them, some had been contestants though most had not.
The thralls performed - services - for their clients. 'Fetch a
glass, cut a sandwich,' was performed as readily as 'Come here
and
be my bolster for me to lie against.' or the sharp command
'Down!'
at which the thrall got down on hands and knees so that the
client
could sit. They also performed more personal services - and all
in
public. There was the kind of fondling and the response to that
fondling that Fox had seen and heard only late at night when
playing his most multiple-X-rated of videos. It felt out of place
here, surreal, a twisted sunlit nightmare, but no one watched the
writhing clusters except in the most casual way.

     "Dawn...! Dusk...!" Fox was attempting to pour red wine and
resist the impulse to spill it over an executive's white suit
when
he heard Elliot's voice raised above the murmur of the remaining
guests.

     The old pervert withdrew his hand from where it shouldn't
have
been to poke Fox in the chest. "You're being called."

     Am I?  There was Elliot looking pharaoh-like beside a
stand of
bamboo, champagne flute in hand. The thrall master was looking
directly at him and calling him 'Dusk'. Another name? How many
was
he going to acquire here. One for each persona? More curious that
obedient, Fox went to where Jake already stood at proper
subservient 'parade rest'. Fox's position was not nearly proper
but
at least it was respectful.

     "Dawn and Dusk," Elliot was saying, "that's how your names
will be recorded in the 'stud' book and your resumes will be
updated accordingly with your accomplishment today. He raised
Jacob's lowered chin with a forefinger. "'Dawn'," he repeated
like
some high priest, "because of your amiable disposition - in
public
at least," he added knowingly. Then he moved his focus to Isaac
whose head, as usual, was not lowered and so did not need his
chin
lifted. Elliot was only slightly taller but he appeared to be
looking down his nose from a far greater height than that. "And
'Dusk' because of your gloomy one. I opted for 'Stormy' myself
but
Lisa liked the alliteration."

     'Dusk's expression must have accurately reflected his new
name
because at that moment the Thrall Master flicked the whip he
carried like a small, leather pharaoh's flail. Its tails stung
across the front of Dusk's thighs. "You're going to have to
change
that attitude of yours, my beauty, if you expect to make it out
of
here," he warned good-naturedly. "But Lisa will cure you of that.
Oh, yes, she's told me. She's DYING to get started. Though," he
added with a wink and a shrug to them both, "she never was able
to
cure me."

     Fox was confused by the remark until he remembered that
Elliot
and Lisa had originally met when he, a proud new thrall, was
being
led away for punishment. Captivated by him from the start, she
had
the length of his humiliation shortened so he could report to her
for training all the sooner. They often joked about who was the
slave and who the master during those early sessions.

     'Dawn' and 'Dusk' were still standing before this Master
now,
waiting to be dismissed to return to their duties. "Ah, I knew
there was another reason I had asked you over," Elliot said,
distractedly brushing a few cracker crumbs from his lightly-
colored
but quite abundant pelt of chest hair. "Lisa and I have some
business at the Bayou which can't wait, so get the chariot,
please.
That is, if you're recovered sufficiently to bear both of us."
His
eyes were lit in challenge.

     'Dawn' didn't check with 'Dusk'. He merely inclined his head
indicating that they were, though his eyes also passed over the
remains of the picnic. The constant flow of guests had made a
rather terrible mess.

     "Oh, never mind that. I'll get some of the other teams to
clean that up. The consequences of being second best."

     'Dawn' moved away towards where the chariot was parked in a
place of honor. Since both of them weren't needed to retrieve the
cart, 'Dusk' hesitated, not knowing if he should follow. Elliot
turned his attention on him, challenge still in his eyes.

     "If you're not recovered, I could commandeer another to team
with Jacob though Lisa would be disappointed. It would mean,
however, that you would be required to stay here and be useful
and
I don't mean picking up napkins and empty wineglasses. There's a
long line of clients interested in engaging one or both of you in
other more strenuous activities." There was humor in the man's
voice considering the activities going on in the woods all around
them now that it was siesta time. He clearly found watching
'Dusk'
pale at the thought of being 'useful' for the rest of the
afternoon
to be the most entertaining thing he had seen all day.

     By now Jake had returned with Lisa's chariot, and Elliot
shooed Dusk along with a smile. Fox stumbled away his mind in a
whirl.

     How odd. All the while the Thrall Master had been dressing
him
down, Fox had been reminded of another and now his stomach was
queasy with homesickness. The content had certainly been
different
but the tone had been identical to the many times Mulder had
stood
at attention on the carpet before A.D. Skinner's desk.

End of Chapter 12