From: "Kate M." Catharsis part 3 F/F, Scully/Other AUTHOR: Kate M. RATING: NC-17 WARNINGS: Some dark stuff, but not much in this bit. See Part 1 for disclaimers and copyright info. This part's got a little more NC-17 stuff than the others. --start part 3-- ****** Friday, June 4, 1999 10:15 p.m. Scully's apartment <> The kiss was sudden and fierce, but also tender, even tentative, yet insistent and exploring. The breath grew heavier, hands reached and grasped. Two souls and bodies pulled at each other, eager, thrilled. <> Scully watched the kiss five times in a row, mesmerized by the beauty of it. Perhaps it was the late afternoon light in the scene, or the almost voyeuristic camera angle, or the relative silence that accompanied the sweet culmination of the longing that had been building in both the characters and in Scully herself. More likely, she was simply mesmerized by the beauty of the two women in the movie--a beauty that went beyond physical features to a strange spiritual centeredness, and a quiet strength that Scully had always hoped to someday achieve. It was her second movie of the evening. She'd left work much earlier than usual, having taken it into her head to spend the weekend indulging her new-found fascination with women--no, not just with women. With the idea of kissing a woman, touching her, discovering her, holding her long into the night. Since relating the details of her lush, sensuous dream to her kind-eyed therapist, Scully had read a couple of books, but was not satisfied. She'd hoped for something that would make it all come clear, something that would help her decide whether she was experiencing a passing fancy, or a profound revelation of at least part, if not the whole, of her sexual identity. She'd had two more decidedly woman-centered dreams since the first--another in which Gwen was the object of her affections, and one than was an odd mix of a bathroom encounter with Jodie Foster and an afternoon in the park with Gertrude Stein. She'd decided to try another investigative route: movies. She'd taken the time to search the Internet before leaving work, knowing full well that she wouldn't feel comfortable asking an adolescent video store clerk for some movies about lesbians. So she'd stumbled through her apartment door with a stack of films ranging from the laughable to the divine: Bar Girls, Claire of the Moon, Personal Best, High Art, and the one that currently had her enchanted, When Night is Falling. She'd also given in to a weak moment and rented one she'd noticed in one of the disheveled stacks of tapes at Mulder's apartment: Bondage Babes VI. She figured that one might be more appealing, or at least less offensive, after she'd had a few more glasses of wine. Meanwhile, the players on the screen were unfolding their drama with a skill and a care that made Scully feel warm and enchanted--not unlike the way Gwen's brown eyes made her feel. {{Gwen.}} Her thoughts had been returning to her therapist more frequently than she wanted to admit. The last session had been rather difficult; after the revelation of her dream, Scully had grudgingly recounted the details of her working life, the sterile offices, the properly perfunctory conversations, the grey suits, the 18:1 male-female ratio. And the good stuff too: the challenges, the rewards, the strength and fascination that was the natural result of being "on the inside," in an elite group. But Gwen's face had grown increasingly saddened as Scully had talked about her job and her co-workers. When Scully asked why, Gwen had shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. When you talk about work, something in you changes. I don't know you well enough to say exactly what it is." Scully had laughed it off and attributed it to the fact that Gwen really didn't know her at all, but the idea had been simmering in the back of her mind. The truth was that she had long--perhaps as long as she'd been working--been putting on a different face at work. She had, almost instinctively, done what was necessary in order to succeed, and had never wondered why. Often that had meant tolerating blatant sexism; sometimes it had meant denying her own beliefs or morals in favor of orders, protocol, and justice; occasionally it had meant retracting something she had said and believed in. It had not quite involved betrayal--no, nothing so direct. Instead, she had found ways to sidestep issues, let compromises go unspoken, give in without giving up. Acknowledging this fact was an activity she seldom undertook, and then only briefly. She had not even toyed with the idea of coming clean about it to Gwen. But tonight, work and its woes were left at the office--both her own office and the therapist's office--and Scully's lips were curled up at the corners, her stomach was satisfied, and her romantic leanings were decidedly stronger than usual. She felt...free. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was the fact that she had not had the nightmare for a few nights. Whatever it was, it was so comfortable, and friendly, and safe. ---------- 11:30 p.m. When the credits rolled, closing the curtain on the luxurious delights of When Night is Falling, Scully felt positively euphoric, and definitely enamored of both of the leads in the movie. She also, she had to admit, felt pretty squirmy. As in ready to squirm out of her clothes and slide into the silken sheets of a canopy bed in a moonlit room, where she'd wrap her lithe arms and legs around a woman, any woman, any shape, size, color, or creed. She thought she could physically feel the need for it, even though she didn't know exactly what it would feel like. She thought briefly of taking another bath, but a glance over at the stack of movies posed an intriguing, though somewhat embarrassing, possibility: Bondage Babes VI. She knew it was likely to be male-oriented, stagey, and juvenile; but she thought she might at least get off on it a little. Scully checked all the blinds and curtains, feeling like a little kid. Then she walked into the bathroom, curious to see her own expression. She was a little startled by what she saw in the mirror. Despite the wine, her eyes looked clearer than usual, and there was a slight flush to her cheeks that made her look more alive than usual. She ran her fingers through her hair and enjoyed the feel of it. She gave herself a little smile, amazed by the openness of it, and shuffled back to the living room. She popped the tape in the VCR, both excited and apprehensive. Five minutes into the movie, she was starting to regret it. There were three "babes" in the movie: two bleached-blonde white women, and a stereotypically "exotic" Asian woman. Scully found their appearance alone very offensive. When one of the women took off her blouse, revealing thoroughly fake-looking breasts, Scully rolled her eyes and pressed the fast-forward button on the remote. She let the tape shuttle forward at high speed through several ridiculous "masturbation" scenes. She watched with one eye shut when the "businessmen" characters in the movie decided to partake in the fun. She was about to give up when one of the blonde women tied the other blonde woman to a table. She pressed play, then muted the sound, deciding to bring her own context to the scene. The woman doing the tying was clad in a snug and skimpy one-piece leather garment. It featured convenient cut-aways for her breasts and crotch, something that made Scully snort in embarrassed amusement. The woman on the table was completely naked. As blonde #1 tied blonde #2's wrists and ankles--the latter at an angle that looked decidedly uncomfortable--Scully grimaced. But what happened next made her tingle a little. Blonde #1 slowly and carefully knelt above blonde #2's face. Blonde #2 complied with the unspoken wish and began to kiss and lick blonde #1, who wriggled with delight. Scully cleared her throat a little and took a sip of wine. Suddenly the Asian woman appeared in the scene, also dressed in a dominatrix getup of some sort, replete with a studded collar and studded bracelets. Scully squinted a little as she realized that the woman was also sporting a strap-on dildo. It was impossibly long, of course, and "realistically" fashioned. Scully giggled a little again, wondering whether there were ever short dildos in porn movies, or dildos that looked like a vegetable, or an animal, or anything other than a penis. Blonde #2, still dutifully lapping away at Blonde #1, was soon bucking against the Asian woman's "appendage," and the Asian woman was fondling blonde #2's exposed breasts with one hand and her own crotch with the other. It was, she had to admit, slightly interesting to Scully. Carefully, almost fearfully, she caressed her own breasts, trying to match the rhythm of the ridiculously long nails that were raking across Blonde #1's nipples. Just when she thought she might get into it a little, the businessmen entered the scene, no longer content to watch, and not being very shy about their intentions. "Oh, forget it," Scully groaned, pressing stop, then eject. "This is *so* not erotic." She leaned her head against the back of the couch and stared up at the ceiling. She stroked her stomach absent-mindedly, now more interested in finding some sort of comfort somewhere than in fulfilling the other need she'd begun to feel. She glanced over at the clock. If she left Gwen a message at near-midnight on a Friday night, would Gwen consider her seriously disturbed? Did she care, on this self-indulgent night, what Gwen thought? What anybody thought? She stood up and paced a little, then picked up the phone and dialed Gwen's office number, shifting on her feet, unable to stand still. "Hi Gwen, it's Sc...it's Dana. It's Friday night, and I'm...well, I'm pathetic, frankly. I keep thinking about...." She could almost feel that last glass of wine hit her just hard enough to loosen her tongue a little more. "...I keep thinking about women, about you. I guess I was hoping you could...make some sort of suggestion, in terms of what I should about this...vaguely hungry feeling I'm having." She sighed loudly into the phone. "Oh, forget it. I'm sorry. You're my therapist, not my social advisor, and I apologize. I'll see you next week." She hung up and shuffled off to bed. <> <<>> ****** Saturday, June 5, 1999 8:22 p.m. The Supreme Bean Coffeehouse Washington, D.C. Scully looked at the clock again. Yes, it was time to admit it. It was starting to look like she'd been stood up. She stared into her almost-empty glass. She'd been waiting almost forty-five minutes, and she didn't think she could make the last inch of latte last any longer. {{Might as well drain it and go get another one, I guess.}} She swallowed the lukewarm coffee and scooted her chair away from the table. "Wait, don't get up," she heard a voice say behind her. "I'll get you one of my special privileges." Scully turned her head. Gwen was walking to the counter with that big, open smile. Scully watched Gwen place the order, enjoying the animated way she talked, the fluid gestures she made, the leather jacket she was wearing, the perfect fit of her black jeans. She felt herself blush. {{I'm failing miserably at keeping things professional.}} Gwen returned to the table with two mochas, each topped with a flourish of whip cream and a harmless-looking chocolate-covered espresso bean. "Mmm, I love these," Scully smiled, concentrating on her coffee, a little bit afraid to look at Gwen. "No, you haven't had one of these." Gwen's leather jacket creaked as she settled in the chair opposite Scully's. "Sure I have. Not here, but I've had a mocha before." "But this one has a little extra something in it." Scully was still unimpressed. "Ah, come on Dana, I'm trying to intrigue you. Believe me, you have not had one of these particular mochas ever before in your life. It will transform you. It will change your life." Scully smiled and gave Gwen a sidelong look. "Okay, fine, I'm intrigued. Are you happy?" "Very. Not to mention sorry I'm late." Scully ate the espresso bean and a couple of spoonfuls of whipped cream. Then she took a careful sip of the coffee. 'What--amaretto?" "Shh, keep your voice down. They don't exactly have a license for this stuff." "Wow," Scully whispered, "you must really be a mover and a shaker in this town." Gwen laughed, a deep, slow laugh that made Scully break into one of her own too-rare, too-broad grins. "Maybe on the dance floor," Gwen winked, "but not in very many other ways. Not in public, at least." Scully felt herself blush again. "Let's get back to that professional level, shall we?" Gwen nodded. "You're right. What am I thinking? It's not like it's Saturday and I am no longer bound by protocol." Scully raised an eyebrow. "I thought you professional caretaker types were always aware of your positions of power. Or are you more like cops, who freely show their wild sides when they go off duty?" Gwen smiled mischievously. "Only with clients who leave me midnight messages about how hungry they are for a woman." Scully blushed fully now, from her cheeks to her forehead to the tips of her ears. "Touche." "Seriously, Dana," Gwen said softly. "I'm not interested in playing the distant, objective therapist with you right now." Seeing Scully's raised eyebrow, she added quickly, "Nor am I trying to seduce you. It just sounded like you could use a friend, and possibly a little introduction to the lesbian scene around here." Scully's eyebrow only went up a little higher. "Aren't you worried about...about getting caught, or something? What if Skinner were to walk in here?" Gwen laughed. "Does Skinner usually hang out in lesbian coffeehouses?" Scully, startled, twisted in her chair to look around the room. "Well, I did think there were an awful lot of women here," she smiled. "I guess I just figured I'm more aware of them than I used to be." "Well, that's certainly possible. Several of them seem to be very aware of you." Scully nearly choked on her coffee. She refused to look around, but could swear she could suddenly feel dozens of pairs of eyes staring at her. "Gwen. Stop it." "Sorry," Gwen smiled. "Okay, so do you want to tell me what made you so...dissatisfied last night?" Scully cleared her throat. "Well, I was watching some movies." "Uh-oh. Not Personal Best, I hope." This got a chuckle from Scully. "Well, I did rent that one, but I haven't watched it yet." "Don't, I urge you," Gwen said rather melodramatically. "It's pretty bad." Scully just smiled. "Probably most things are, compared to When Night is Falling." "Ahh," Gwen sighed. Scully marveled at the luxuriousness of the sigh. "Now *that's* a positive, wonderful movie," Gwen nodded. "I'm glad you came across that one." "So am I." "And I can see why that make you want a little...action. Or, rather, would make you want...possibility." "Yes, that's a good way to put it. But..." Scully shook her head. "Yes?" Gwen looked concerned, and leaned forward a little. "Well, I don't really know what I'm doing. I'm not sure I'm gay, I'm *really* not sure why all of a sudden I'm having the kinds of dreams I'm having, and I have absolutely no idea what to do about any of it. And I'm supposed to be focusing on healing, not on chasing my hormones." "Okay, listen, Dana." Suddenly Gwen's hand was on her own, and Scully pulled back involuntarily. But Gwen's fingers trapped her, and Scully let herself meet the gaze of those warm brown eyes. "I know that I barely know you. But I can see, as can anyone who spends five minutes with you, that you're not prone to rash behavior. You think about things, and even though you may be a little bit out of touch with the deepest parts of yourself right now, I think you have more of a direct line to your instincts than most people do. And I think you should follow them, wherever they're going." "Wow." Scully let a slow smile creep across her face. "Do you really think that's true? That I have a direct line to my instincts?" "Yes. If you pay attention, that is, and don't hold yourself back." Gwen was still holding her hand. Scully gently but firmly reclaimed it and let it drop to her lap. "So." Gwen paused to take a few hearty gulps of her mocha. "What's this about dreams again?" Scully rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure I want to talk about those in public." "Hey, this ain't public," Gwen teased. "We're among friends here. I'd hate to get an earful of some of the conversations that are probably going on around us." Scully looked at the couple at the next table. They were both young and attractive, and currently rather angry. One of them was gesturing wildly with her hands, while the other had her arms crossed. Scully strained her ears a little, but couldn't quite hear what they were saying. Suddenly one of them looked at her and smiled. Scully turned back to Gwen as quickly as she was able. "Told ya they're all watching you," Gwen smirked. Scully glared at her and cleared her throat. "I believe we were discussing dreams." "Yes." "Okay, fine. I had a sort of...adventurous dream last night." "Adventurous sexually?" "Shh," Scully said instinctively. "But yes." "Okay. Are we talking whips and chains here?" Scully's eyes grew wide. She just nodded. "That's not so surprising, Dana, if you don't mind my saying so." "What does *that* mean?" Gwen decided, from the lightning-quick change in the woman sitting across from her, that she never wanted to be on Scully's bad side. With that one question, Scully had gone from casually self-protective to full-on defensive, and the fire in her eyes was deadly. Gwen tried to calm the waters. "I just mean that you are a rather controlled person, and it's not surprising that you might have some fantasies about either giving up control or taking a different sort of control." Scully thought for a moment, then let herself exhale. "Oh," she said simply. "Does that sound possible?" "Well...yes." "Does it bother you?" Scully shifted in her chair. "Not...as such. No. But the setting of my dream was rather disturbing." "Were you in that basement room?" "Damn," Scully hissed, "I thought you weren't playing therapist tonight. But you're seeing through everything as well as you do in that office." "Sorry. I'll stop if you want." Gwen slurped her mocha, and Scully smiled in spite of herself. "What? There's that seldom seen smile of yours." "That was a cute slurp." Now it was Gwen's turn to put her defenses up. She decided not to respond to the comment. "Um...Dana, I don't know how much you want to talk about this S & M stuff, and the fact that you dreamt about that room again, but I would like to say one thing." "Go ahead." "I think dreams are important. I think they can tell us quite a bit about ourselves. But I also think that they can be just a mish-mosh of random stuff, and may not mean anything at all." "Mish-mosh?" Scully grinned. Gwen blinked. "Was that cute too?" "Yes." "Okay, I'll try to stop being cute." Gwen smiled softly and stared into her mocha. {{Another time, Dana, another place, and I'd be as cute as I possibly could, and please you in as many ways as I possibly could....}} She mentally shook herself. Scully sighed, then nodded. "Well, I agree with what you said about dreams. And I agree that I should follow my instincts, if I can pay attention to them. So..." Scully squinted and bit her lower lip. "...where should I start?" "You mean where should you start your search for your first wham-bam, thank-you-ma'am girl?" Gwen grinned coyly, in spite of her resolve to keep the conversation on a friendly, completely un-innuendoed level. Scully gave her a playful glare. "Yes, I guess that's what I mean. I just don't have the professional background to phrase my wishes so...colorfully." "All in good time, Dr. Scully. Follow me." Gwen stood up and unceremoniously walked out the door. Scully looked around, almost as if she were hoping someone would offer up some advice. None came, so she stood up too and walked out, running her fingers through her hair and shaking her head. {{A life-changing mocha, indeed.}} --end part 3--