Date: 15 May 1998 06:53:04 GMT

From: AgentXDoll <agentxdoll@aol.com>

Subject: Cinnamon Calling

 

Title: Cinnamon Calling

Author:  Bidie McCucholl

Category: VR

Rating:  NC-17 for strong language and strong sexual situations

Spoilers: Small Potatoes (brief)

Keyword: Mulder/Scully erotica-romance.

Summary:  Mulder receives a free phone call as a "valued customer"

from his favorite 900# phone sex service.  When the conversation

takes a turn toward the erotic, Mulder reveals some intensely

intimate feelings about Scully to a perfect stranger, plunging

himself into a whirlwind of decadent fantasies about his sexy

FBI partner.

=================================================================

Disclaimer:  Again, the characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully

do not belong to me.They belong to FOX,the great Chris Carter and

Ten Thirteen Productions.  I am using these characters without

permission, but if Mr. Carter knew the capacity in which I were

using them, he wouldn't give me permission anyway!  :)  Permission

is a moot point, however, because I am not making a cent off of

this effort.  My reward is the feedback I get from readers like

you.  (Now I sound like a PBS announcer!)  So email me at

AgentXDoll@aol.com if you like it and I might write a

continuation!  Enjoy! (And thanks to Jennifer Brady for our

goofy goofy attempts at naming this gem of a story!)

=================================================================

     The phone was ringing.  And ringing. 

     And where were his damn keys?

     Mulder fumbled in his pockets, his trenchcoat, in any nook

and cranny on his person, attempting to find the keys to his

apartment.  Silently he cursed a string of expletives to the Deity

above as he fidgeted around in the hallway.

     <What a dumbass I am,> he thought as he continued to search.

<If I can't find the keys to my car, I damn sure can't find the

keys to my fucking apartment.>

     He had turned the office upside down before he'd left work

that afternoon, looking for his keys.  His ever-brilliant partner

had suggested he retrace his steps until he found them.

Otherwise, she would be glad to give him a ride home.  Mulder had

refused.  His damn pride had made him refuse.  Besides, he'd just

had them earlier that day. 

     Two hours later, however, with no sign of any keys, Mulder

had given up and taken a cab home.  He began to fully realize the

sheer stupidity of that idea when he realized his apartment key

was hanging on the same ring as his car keys.

     <I'm a fucking FBI agent,> he thought, <and I can't even get

into my own damn apartment.>  He stopped for a minute, still

engrossed in thought.  <Wait a minute.  Yes, I can.  I can because

I'm a fucking FBI agent.>

     The doorknob fell to the floor as Mulder kicked the door

open.  With a grin, he thought about what the landlord would

do in reaction to his dilemma.  But it didn't matter.  It didn't matter because

the phone was ringing and he needed to rest on

the worn leather of his couch.

     The phone was still ringing.  Thank God.  Or thank the Devil,

one.  He'd soon find out.

     "Hello?" Mulder was gasping as he picked up the receiver.

"Hello, is anyone still there?"

     "Hello, Fox." The voice was low, soft as a whisper,

smooth as satin, and sultry as a humid summer night in

Mississippi.  "It's nice to hear your sexy voice."

      Mulder's eyebrows raised in surprise, his eyes gleaming

with a hint of something animal.  "And who might this be?"

he rumbled into the receiver.

     "My name is Cinnamon," the sexy voice whispered

breathlessly. 

     "Hello, Cinnamon," Mulder murmured huskily.  "To what do

I owe the honor of this call?"

     The voice on the other end of the phone laughed musically.

She could have been a singer, so beautiful was the melody of her

response to his question. 

     Mulder smiled as the voice began to speak.  "It's an honor

for me to be calling you, Fox.  You're one of our valued

customers."

     "Valued customers?" Mulder's smile suddenly widened into a

lascivious grin.  "Shouldn't you be calling me Marty?"

     "Marty?"  Suddenly there was silence on the other end of

the phone.  "I don't understand..."

     "Several of your coworkers know me as Marty."

     "Oh..." Cinnamon said.  "You're right.  They just forgot

to tell me."

     Mulder's grin widened.  "So how *did* you get my real name?"

     "Well..." Cinnamon answered, "...I'm very resourceful."

     "I see." Mulder moved closer to the couch.

     "Does it matter that I know your real name?" she asked him.

     Mulder stood in silence for a minute.

     Cinnamon continued.  "Honey, when I was told to call you

and congratulate you on being our first Gold Customer, I wasn't

even thinking about names.  No one told me about the other

name, and because your number was listed, I just assumed that you

wanted to be known by your first name."

     Mulder chuckled.  "It's a---surprise," he said,

"but now that the jig is up, I guess we can be totally frank."  He

paused for a second.  "Now what's this about being a Gold

Customer?"

     "You're our first Gold Customer," Cinnamon said to him.  "My

supervisor told me to call you and congratulate you on having such

an honor.  And because of your---dedicated patronage, we've

decided to give you a free call.  On us, at no cost to you, for as

long as you like."

     "It must be my lucky day," Mulder said, his baritone voice

tinged with a hint of sexual innuendo.

     "It IS your lucky day, Fox."  Cinnamon's voice had charged

the air around the phone with a certain electric tension, seeping

into Mulder's body with each syllable of her sentence.  "Are you

ready to be lucky?"

     Mulder inhaled a deep breath and sat down on the couch.

"I'm more than ready, Cinnamon," he murmured huskily.

     Cinnamon moaned into Mulder's ear.  The sensation of hearing

such a low female moan sent shivers down his flesh. His every hair

seemed to stand on end.

     "I've had a rough day, Cinnamon," he said.  "I need some...

consolation."

     "You did?  You poor thing." Cinnamon's voice was suddenly

very maternal.  "Tell Miss Cinnamon all about it.  Maybe she

can help you find some...release from the events of the day." Her

maternal voice became tinged with more erotic promise as she

finished her reply.

     "Mmmm..." Mulder closed his eyes.  "Well, first off, I was

late to work, and then I was reprimanded for an hour by one of

my superiors for something I hadn't handled properly.  Which

didn't bother me much.  It's a predictable course of events for

my work day."

     "So what was so...'tough' about it, Fox?" she murmured.

     "Well, when I finally made it to my office, I had to deal

with something I hadn't expected."

     "And what was that?"

     Mulder paused before continuing.  "I have a partner.  We've

worked together for five years now.  Things have been, uh, shall

we say, a little---tense between us lately."

     "Tense as in...what way?" Cinnamon asked.

     "Well, you know, ah, just---tense."  Mulder shivered as he

recalled the vision of Dana Scully that morning, dressed in a

suit that came dangerously close to defying Bureau dress code.

No one else had noticed but Mulder, because Mulder knew full well

that Bureau dress code was something Scully strictly adhered to.

The shock of seeing those perfect legs, those shapely calves,

the slight swell of her breasts underneath the light summer suit

had nearly driven Mulder to insanity.  Not to mention the fact

that he had to look at those legs and the hint of her breasts

every time she handed him a folder or leaned over his desk.

     "Oh."  Cinnamon's response was abbreviated to a simple

syllable.

     "But---tense in a good way, I guess," Mulder continued,

fighting the images of his tempting partner.  "She just---

surprised me today."

     "She?  Your partner is a she?" Cinnamon laughed.  "No

wonder why certain...things were so...tense."  She emphasized

particular key words.

     Mulder laughed.  "Yeah, certain things were definitely...

strained to their breaking point for the majority of the day."

     "You poor thing," Cinnamon repeated, this time more

huskily.  "What caused things to be so...tense today?"

     "Oh, God," Mulder groaned, remembering the events of the

day.  Scully's suit.  Scully's legs.  Scully's walk. 

Scully's alto voice, with a hint of something more sexual in it

than before.  What game was she trying to play with him?  Had she

had a hot date after work?  No.  Scully hadn't had a date in

years.  At least to his knowledge.  What if that display was meant

for someone else's perusal later in the day?  What if she was

displaying more to that someone else right now? 

     Shit.  He couldn't take much more of those thoughts.

     Regardless of Scully's plans for that evening, she

had worn that suit to work and had made good use of its more

revealing assets---not to Skinner, not to any other agent who

just happened to be in the hallway, but to him.  Only him.

She had "accidentally" dropped a file and had bent over so that

his gaze could linger just long enough to see the luscious

curves of her backside, barely covered with nothing but a lace

garter belt, to which were attached stockings of the finest

gossamer.  She'd leaned over a folder he'd been examining,

allowing him an ample view of her generous cleavage.  She'd caught

his gaping stare as well, but she'd never made any sudden attempt

to move away or act in puritanical offense.  The moves were

definitely contrived, and the moves were defnitely for Fox Mulder.

    Scully had moves.  Damn, did Scully have moves.

    Why was it that he had never truly noticed how sexual a being

Dana Scully could be until this morning in the office?  She had

always held his affection, his attention, and even the slightest

stirrings of lust, but never to the degree of today.

    "Fox...?" Cinnamon asked in a lilting yet sexual tone.  "What

did cause things to be so tense today?"

    He was suddenly shaken out of his delicious reverie. "Wha..?"

    Cinnamon repeated the question yet another time, the soothing

honey of her voice ebbing into Mulder's sweaty flesh.

    "Oh..." Mulder sighed, his breath quickening.  "I guess I

just saw her in a different light today.  She was wearing this

suit that barely covered anything on her body."

    "Mhm..."

    "And it wasn't just the suit, either...she probably could've

been wearing sackcloth and she still would have affected me...the

way she'd walked, talked, acted..."  He shook his head violently

for a few seconds to clear the image of Scully the sex goddess

from his mind. 

    "What did she do, Fox?"

    "She was...doing everything she shouldn't do.  She *wouldn't*

do.  Everything that goes against her standards of professionalism

in the workplace.  She was acting as if she wanted me to take her

in my arms and bang her right there on my desk."

    "She did?"  Cinnamon laughed huskily.  "Maybe she did want

you to bang her right there on your desk."

    Mulder took a deep breath.  "I don't know...it's just not

like her to be that way.  But then again...I know next to nothing

about her motives, her desires, her personal life.  It was hard

enough figuring her out professionally all these years.  I just

don't know what she was trying to tell me.  I got the signals,

I got the hints, but I couldn't catch *why* she was sending them."

    Cinnamon laughed again.  "Fox, honey, I'm here to talk about

anything you want, but darling, I don't think a therapy session

is what you need right now.  I only specialize in one area of

therapy."  Her voice lowered several degrees as she ended her

last sentence.

    Mulder chuckled.  "Just how---specialized are you, Cinnamon?"

    "Enough to fulfill any longing you may have tonight, honey."

The endearment was sinful delight to Mulder's ear.  "Why don't you

take me up on it?"

    A rough groan made its way from Mulder's throat into the

phone.  "I thought you'd never ask," he rumbled into the receiver.

    Mulder heard the lilting sound of a girlish giggle in his

ear, replaced suddenly by the sweet inflections of Cinnamon's

voice.  "What do you want, Fox?  Tell me what you want."

    He began to pant heavily, his breath coming in harsh, ragged

gasps.  "I want...I want..."

    Dammit.  Scully again.  That damn suit.  That damn display,

robbing him of any coherent thought.  How could *she* do that to

him, when far more beautiful women had done as much and had never

driven him to this measure of insanity?

    "What is it, Fox?"  Cinnamon's voice was tinged with concern.

    Mulder took another deep breath.  "I---can't do this.  I

just---can't."

    "Why not?"

    "I can't stop thinking about---her."  Mulder's last word was

more a groan than a word.

    "Your partner."

    "Yes."  Mulder kept breathing deeply, hoping to restore some

control to his pounding heart, his racing pulse, and the gigantic

bulge between his legs.  "I can't explain it---no one's ever

affected me like she has.  And dammit, it's just like me to want

someone I can never have."

    There was silence on the phone for a few minutes.  "You love

her, Fox?"

    Ouch.  Cinnamon's question had painfully hit home, in the

center of his being.  "I---I---do.  I love her."  He sighed.  "I

love her and I want her and I need her...her mind and her soul,

and her heart, all of her.  Not just her body---although I'd

settle for that, if that was all she could give me."

    His confession was met with silence again.

    "But she can't give me that," he continued, sighing

dejectedly.  "Any of it.  She keeps it all to herself."

    There was a brief pause before Cinnamon replied to him.

"Fox, honey, you don't deserve to be like this.  I bet you're

very handsome and very desirable...you could have any woman

you wanted."

    "But I want *her*," Mulder said painfully, the bulge in his

pants growing dangerously large.  His throat seemed to be

constricted with conflicting tension, pain, and longing all at

once.

    Silence.  "Fox, let me do something for you.  Let me

take away these frustrations.  You've had them for so long.  Let

me do something for you, baby."

    "Do...something?" Mulder's throat was beginning to close on

him.  "What did you...have in mind?"

    "Well...normally I'm enough for most men, but I sense you

need someone else...or the illusion of someone else...to satisfy

your desire."  She paused before continuing.  "Pretend I'm her."

    "What?" It was an incredulous proposal.  A phone-sex girl

even aspiring to be Dana Scully for one brief instant in time.

It would never work.  It just wouldn't.

    "That's right, baby.  Pretend I'm your partner."

    Mulder inhaled a shaky breath.  "Can you---do that?"

    "Honey, I can do anything I want," she drawled.  "I can be

anyone you want me to be.  All you have to do is tell me what you

want."

    There was another pause as Mulder scrambled to think of words

to describe Scully.  His goddess.

    "Does she have a name, or is she just 'babe' or 'girl'?"

Cinnamon asked him.

    "Yeah, she's got a name," Mulder replied, still thinking of

how he could put Dana Scully into mere words.

    "You mind telling me?" Cinnamon said, a little more

forcefully.

    Mulder halted his thought process for a second and choked out

the words.  "Scully.  Dana Scully."

    "Scully, huh?"

    "Yeah, we call each other by our last names...something we

agreed upon a...a long time ago."

    "You wanna call me Scully, then?" she asked him.

    Mulder shook his head in refusal, even though he knew she

could not see his gesture.  "No.  No.  I wanna call you Dana."

    Dana.  The sweetest sound in the whole world.  So simple a

name for someone so enigmatic, so complex, so full of mysteries

waiting to be unlocked from within, revealed and solved.  Part

of her soul.  Her spirit.  Her inner child that crept out from

time to time when Mulder caught her in a rare smile or an even

rarer laugh.  How he longed to know Dana...not just Scully.

    "Dana it is, then, Fox."  Cinnamon's voice seemed much

lighter than before.  "Where do you want to begin?"

    Mulder thought for a moment, adjusting his pants so that

the straining bulge underneath was not nearly so uncomfortable.

"I'm caressing your hair...you have such beautiful red hair...

not too short, but not too long, just how I like it..."

    "Go on..." Cinnamon's voice sounded far away.

    "I'm looking into your eyes...God, they're so blue...as blue

as a summer sky, so clear you can almost see straight through them

sometimes.  You're looking at me with such love in your eyes...oh

Dana..."

    "Don't stop..."

    "I reach down to caress your cheek.  Your skin is so smooth,

smoother than satin...too perfect to be real.  My thumb barely

grazes your cheek as my hand cups your chin.  Then...I lean

forward and descend to kiss your lips...softly at first, exploring

the softness there.  Then harder, as I try to fuse our lips into

one white-hot mass."

    Mulder heard a ragged sigh come from Cinnamon's mouth.  "Yes,

Fox...don't stop..."

    "You part your lips slightly, just enough for my tongue to

enter that warm mouth of yours.  You taste so good...like honey

and warm milk and chocolate all together.  I invade every inch of

your mouth and finally your tongue battles with mine."  He moaned.

"I let you win and your tongue enters my mouth...it's so warm,

so inviting, so soft, as it caresses every inch of my mouth."

    "You taste like heaven," Cinnamon said temptingly, driving

Mulder even further into his fantasy.

    "I kiss you for hours and hours until those full lips are

all red and swollen from my attentions.  Then I begin to take your

suit off..." That suit...damn, that sinful suit.  "I unbutton

the jacket very slowly, expecting to find something underneath,

but nothing...nothing except a black lace bra that frames your

breasts so perfectly."

   "Yes...mmm...go on..."

   "Then I reach behind to the small of your back and begin

unzipping your skirt...what little of it there is...oh, God..."

Mulder shivered as he remembered how dangerously high the hemline

had been.  "No slip, nothing but that garter belt and stockings...

which I intend to remove as soon as possible."

   "Take 'em off, Fox," she gasped, her breath ragged and heavy.

   "I slowly unfasten those stockings and take great care not to

run them as I slide them down the softness of your thighs...your

legs...your ankles...I touch the curve of your instep as I remove

the stockings and caress the balls of your feet.  You have such

perfect feet.  So petite and small, just like you..."

    "Now the garter belt, Fox, the garter..."  Cinnamon sounded

impatient.

    "I...remove the garter belt from your waist and then I move

to your bra...As pretty as you look in it, I know it has to come

off.  I have to see your breasts...I have to touch them, to taste

them, to bury my head between them."

    "Oh, baby, do it," Cinnamon whispered.

    "I stand there for a second, just looking at you.  God you're

beautiful, Dana.  Your breasts are so full...so ready for my

touch, my kiss...your waist is small...I can nearly wrap my hands

around the width of it...Your hips are round and full, but not

too much to disturb the beauty of your frame.  Your legs...well,

I could go on all day about your legs...."  He smiled.  "But it's

that one place, between them...covered with tiny red curls that

interests me the most...I want to see what those curls are

guarding, to caress its secrets, to fill the most secret part of

you with me...."

     Cinnamon made a small choking sound, then gasped for breath.

"Oh, Fox..."

     Mulder continued.  "I pick you up and carry you to the bed.

You're so light and fragile, like a porcelain doll.  The finest

porcelain doll.  I lay you down on the bed and stay away from you

long enough to take off my clothes so I can feel what it's like

to touch your flesh with mine.  All over."  He began gasping for

air as he undid the buckle on his belt and worked on removing his

pants.

     "Keep going, Fox...don't stop now..."

     "I kiss your lips again...God I could just kiss your lips all

day and be satisfied...well, most of the day, at least."  He

grinned mischievously as Cinnamon giggled.  "Then I move lower, to

your neck...what graceful curves you have beneath that angelic

face...then lower to your breasts.  I take them in my hands,

slowly caressing each curve, each part.  Then I kiss them softly,

flicking my tongue in and out to taste every inch of them...and

when my lips and tongue finally find your nipples, you scream in

pleasure and beg me to suck them.  I suck them like a starving

baby and you gladly give them to me."

     "Oh...." Cinnamon was lost for words at Mulder's erotic

description.

     "I move lower, to your stomach, your navel...my tongue flicks

in and out there too...drawing lazy circles around it.  I move

lower still,  to your inner thighs...God, I can smell your scent

already, and it's driving me insane...I have to kiss you there,

between your thighs, everywhere, concentrating on your clit.  You

gasp and moan and scream and beg me to stop, to continue...you're

not sure which."

     Cinnamon was moaning quite heavily into the phone, her moans

directly traveling to Mulder's penis, sending it aflame with sharp

pinlike tingles.

     "I stop, only to position myself above you.  You gladly part

your thighs for me.  And then...oh, God...then..."

     "Yes?"

     "I enter you with one long stroke...oh, God, Dana..."

     "Fox..."

     Mulder's free hand, as if by instinct, went to his dick,

enclosing around the hard member and moving with slow, languid

strokes as he imagined making love to his goddess.  "Slowly,

slowly," he panted, "we begin our dance...an age-old dance of

love...until you beg me to quicken the pace."

     "Faster, Fox...oh, faster," Cinnamon pleaded.

     "I happily oblige you," he groaned into the receiver, his

other hand moving faster over his dick, matching the quickened

pace of his breath,  "and myself.  Oh God Dana, you feel so

good...you're moaning and groaning and thrashing around...your

legs are around my waist and your hands are pulling at my

buttocks...begging me to enter deeper, even though we've reached

the limit.  You seem to want me to pierce your womb with my

dick."

     "Oh...yes..."

     "I can't hold back any more, Dana...I can't."  Mulder began

jerking his member frantically, his eyelids fluttering wildly with

the intensity of his sensations.  "I want you so bad...I can't get

close enough to you...I try so hard...And then you scream as the

first spasms of your orgasm hit...You cry out my name over and

over again, and you enclose around me...and then I'm coming and

coming and I can't stop coming...oh, dear GOD, Dana..."

     "Oh God ohgodohgodohgodoh *GOD*, Fox...!!!"

     Mulder barely heard Cinnamon's words; her cries sent him

over the edge in a blaze of white-hot ecstasy.  He grunted out a

prayer to the Deity and to his goddess before collapsing on the

couch, his hand soaked with the seed of his spent desire.

     Afterwards, neither spoke for several minutes.  Soft moans

and contented sighs were heard from each participant.

     Finally Cinnamon broke the silence.  "Well, Fox, you

certainly know how to---please a woman..." She emitted a low

chuckle from the deepest regions of her throat.  "If that's what

you can do over the phone, I'd love to see what you can do in

person..."

     Mulder let out a long sigh of release before speaking. 

"Fortunately for women, it IS one of my greatest talents."

     "You should get a job here," Cinnamon said to him.  "The

lady callers would LOVE you."

     Mulder answered her with a guttural laugh.  "It does

sound tempting, but unfortunately, I can only save those, uh,

skills, for one woman only."

     There was a slight pause before Cinnamon spoke.  "Then you

should go to her and tell her.  Tell her, Fox.  And don't spend

your life getting up the courage.  Just tell her."

     "But then you'll be out of a job," Mulder said.

     Cinnamon laughed.  "Well, you are good for business, Fox,

but there are other men who keep us afloat.  I'll be just fine."

     "Then I will."  Mulder nodded to himself as an affirmation

of his resolve.  "Good night, Dana---er, I mean, Cinnamon."

     "Pleasant dreams, Mulder."

     Mulder scarcely noticed the use of his last name until the

phone disconnected.  Suddenly he realized that Cinnamon's last

sentence didn't sound like Cinnamon at all....but rather,

someone who had the courage to wear high hemlines to work and

tempt the bejeezus out of him.  Could it be...?

     Nah.  Nah.  It couldn't possibly be...It was unfathomable.

Inconceivable.  He cleaned himself up and curled in front of the

TV with a contented smile on his face.  At least he had her in

his mind tonight.  The woman was a damn fine actress and

definitely worth the reward for his patronage.

     Meanwhile, far away in Annapolis, a petite redhead was

sitting on her couch, naked, eyeing the phone with an

uncharacteristically giddy expression on her face.  She smiled

to herself as a slight sniggle erupted from her delicate nostrils.

     Cinnamon, indeed.

 

*THE END*

 

*************************