Cakesmut

Debra Fran Baker

dfbaker@panix.com




"Scully."

"Agent Scully. This is Skinner. Would it be possible for me to see you this evening?"

"This evening, sir?" It was Sunday afternoon. There was only one reason he would be calling.

"Yes. Agent Mulder will be joining us as well."

Scully sighed to herself. That was it. This charade was getting ridiculous. Why she ever let them use her apartment as a sad little bordello was beyond her, and why they even needed it when both had perfectly good places to live and motels within driving distance, was an X-File, but it was now too late to stop.

Tonight, though, she was going to enjoy herself. She had plans and everything she needed.

"What time, sir?"

"Around seven."

She checked her watch. Three in the afternoon. Plenty of time to get things ready. First things first. She went into her kitchen and set the oven to 350, and got out that 9 inch springform pan she picked up at a garage sale, and the big stand mixer she'd invested in a long time ago.

Then she went to the fridge. Yep. All there.

2 lbs cream cheese (and not that light stuff, either.)

1 pint sour cream (same for here.)

1/4 pound butter, plus a little extra for the pan

4 eggs

Half lemon.

She put the butter in the microwave to melt, and put the rest on the counter. Then she rummaged in her pantry. Flour, cornstarch, sugar, vanilla. All there.

2 cups sugar

3 tbls flour

3 tbls cornstarch

1 capful vanilla

Now, all she had to do was butter the pan. A miracle happened, and the bottom was actually tight for a change in the springform.

She put the cream cheese in the mixer bowl and creamed it with the sugar, slowly. Then she added all the other ingredients one by one, ending with juice of the lemon, watching as the batter got richer and more velvety as she went on.

Then she poured it into the pan, watching as it formed a thick ribbon and scraping off as much as she could but inevitably, some remained in the bowl. She put the pan on a cookie sheet and then into the oven. She'd check in an hour, but it usually took longer to get that proper browned top.

And then she saw the mixing bowl. It taunted her with the sweet, luscious, forbidden batter. Salmonella, she told herself. Dangerous, she told herself. Fattening, she told herself. Shut up, she told herself.

Fred and Ginger were on AMC, and she had to watch the cake anyway. So she settled with the bowl and the beaters and the spatula and enjoyed their innocent flirtations. The batter was as wonderful as it promised. Meanwhile, the scent filled her apartment.

The movie wound down to the climax, and the cake was nicely brown on top. She turned the oven off, but the recipe insisted she leave the cake there for another 90 minutes, so she did. She had enough left to do, anyway.

The bedroom had to be prepared. She didn't see the point of clean sheets for what they were going to do on them, but she did fold the covers to the foot of the bed. The one time she forgot, she had to take out her guest blankets. And she picked up whatever clothing she had lying around. She didn't want to think about what had happened the time she'd forgotten *that*. And then there were the extra additions. Yep. They were also in place.

Only left to do was straighten the kitchen, put the cake in the fridge to cool and put up a pot of coffee.

The doorbell rang right on the dot of seven.

And there they both were, looking like FBI calendar boys in their tight shirts and jeans. She could see every muscle flex under Skinner's polo neck, and she knew Mulder's perfect rear intimately, but not as intimately as those pants. Or, she noticed, Skinner's hand.

"Come in, gentlemen."

"Thank you, Agent Scully, for allowing us to..."

"Would you like some cheesecake or coffee?"

Mulder shuffled his feet, and Skinner wrapped his arm around his waist. "Maybe later."

She nodded. "You know the way." They'd better by now. She hid her expression, not that they'd noticed. She felt the breeze as they left.

She walked into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, to which she added a generous dollop of Tullamore Dew, and cut herself an equally generous slice of cake.

She took them into her living room and turned on the set. There they were, her two pieces of beefcake, posing for the three hidden cameras. Scully settled down on her couch, loosened the drawstring to her sweatpants and let a bite of the cake melt on her tongue.

Ah, yes. First they kissed...and what a kiss it was. They looked like they were devouring each other's faces. She could feel her own breasts tingle as she watched.

"God, Fox. I missed you. I need you. Now."

Mulder's mouth was swollen from the kiss. He looked delicious. "Walter...yes..." Hmm. Apparently, his verbal skills decreased in inverse proportion to arousal. Interesting. "Clothes...off..."

Hmmm. She took another bite of cheesecake. They'd both gone commando, it seemed. God Almighty, Skinner was built. Every muscle was cut and defined, and his penis was magnificent. She wondered how Mulder rated *this* prize bull, as her other hand snaked under her waistband. If they had been cows, heifers would have been waiting in line to be inseminated. She giggled softly and sipped her coffee.

She'd seen Mulder naked often enough, but never when he was like that. He was a little bony, but a tasty dish never the less. And *his* manhood was a worthy specimen all by itself. She licked her lips, and then gasped as her partner slid to his knees. Mulder belonged in that position. It fit him better than any of his suits.

He dipped his head for a second and then looked up at Skinner, who put his hands on Mulder's hair and nodded. Mulder grinned and eagerly took their boss in his mouth. She watched those lips stretch to accommodate that monster and felt herself melt. Even more, this was her partner. It was amazing. Even more...he reached around to knead Skinner's rock hard glutes, and Skinner stopped him and murmured something her mike didn't pick up. Mulder, not missing a suck, put his hands behind his back as if he were handcuffed. She had no idea how long this went on before Skinner pulled Mulder's head back, and helped him to stand. Mulder made no attempt to use his hands at all, but she could hear him whimper slightly when his mouth was emptied.

Skinner guided him to the bed, laying him on his back with his hands stretched over his head, his knees spread and bent and feet flat. A word from Skinner, and he closed his eyes. While Skinner got out the condom and lube she refused to supply herself, Scully played with the cameras until she had a perfect shot of her partner, lying fully exposed and passive on the bed, his penis completely hard and his face flushed and expectant.

Skinner came back into the picture. What was...oh, yes. Preparing him for entry. Her own fingers busy, she watched Skinner carefully, gently stretch him as Mulder writhed silently in pleasure on the bed, never once moving his hands. She switched cameras when Skinner rolled on the condom and greased himself. With a little fiddling, she could see him take her partner in his perfect rear. Mulder wrapped his long, muscular legs around him for support.

Skinner was completely inside Mulder now. Both were covered in sweat. Skinner kept saying a litany of meaningless words to accompany his own thrusting but Mulder continued silent, occasionally biting his lower lip to stay that way. She could see the strain in him arm muscles, too.

Then...then, Skinner reached forward and grasped Mulder's penis and stroked it in the same rythmn as his thrusts. He went faster and faster, harder and harder, pounding into Mulder until Mulder let out a single scream and exploded over Skinner and himself. At that moment, Skinner stopped and his body began to jerk, as his face contorted in a rictus of pleasure. Scully, too, sitting by herself in the living room, coffee cold and forgotten and cheesecake consumed, joined them in a voyeuristic climax.

When she recovered, Skinner was lying on the bed next to Mulder, who seemed to have been released from his invisible bonds because they were holding each other gently and murmuring softly to each other, punctuated by occasional kisses. It looked so sweet and intimate that she became embarrassed and shut the cameras off.

Twenty minutes later, they emerged, holding hands. She smiled at them, and this time they accepted her offer, although they turned down the Tully for their coffee. The three of them chatted about inconsequentialities for awhile before turning to casework. It was as if the two men had just come for coffee, cake and shoptalk, until Skinner stood and it was time to leave.

She walked them to the door.

"Scully, thank you for this."

"I was glad to do it, Mulder."

"I appreciate this, too, Scully."

"Thank you, sir. See you tomorrow."

"Yes. Goodbye, Agent Scully."

"Night, partner." Mulder followed Skinner out the door.

She sighed and went to her bedroom to strip the bed. As she did, something caught her eye. A note. Someone had pinned a note right under one of her hidden cameras.

"Scully:

Hope you enjoyed the show.

M.

PS We want a copy of the videotape."

Videotape! Damn. She knew she'd forgotten something! She wondered if she could get them back again. Hmm. They did enjoy the cheesecake.



Copyright 1999 Debra Fran Baker and NightRoads Associates

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