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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N


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Archive name: eroma.txt
Authors name: Basbleu (address unknown)
Story Title : Eromantica
========================================================
 Some sexual content and therefor reserved strictly for
 adult viewing. Thank you.
================== Kristen's collection ================

 Summary: Sensual massage and sex on a full stomach in
 an idyllic cottage in front of a fireplace.

 Cait McHale (who is my creation and thus Copyright
 Basbleu) was first introduced in a non-erotica story
 named "Sins" and is prominently featured in MacGuffin,
 and Dana Scores.

	The quiet knock  was the last thing he expected.
 By eight at night, the Hoover Building was usually de-
 serted.  A.D. Skinner wouldn't even have been there,
 had he not spent the whole day in front of a Senate
 committee, explaining away the mass suicide of the
 Ephesian cult.  It had been a grueling day, maintaining
 his temper while having each of his decisions and judg-
 ments questioned and requisitioned, his record shredded
 by a stone-faced panel of bureaucrats more interested
 in their own agendas than the loss of innocent life.
 He'd finally been dismissed with little more than ap-
 proving nods from the Director and the Attorney General
 whose turns would come next.  Finally, back in his of-
 fice, he'd started to catch up on work that had piled
 up all week as he focused on preparing for the inquiry.

	He'd been reviewing cases for three hours before
 the knock at his door.

	"Come in." he said, gruffly, and aimed his cus-
 tomary A.D. glare at the door, a glare that quickly
 changed to a look of relief as Cait walked in.

	"What are you still doing here?" he asked, lay-
 ing his Mont Blanc down and sitting back in his chair.

	"I could ask you the same question." She said,
 settling a hip against the edge of his desk and leaning
 over to look at the report. "Mulder and Scully's
 latest?" She asked as the words <EM>exsanguination of
 sacrificial virgins</EM> caught her eye.

	"Either that or the latest Clive Barker novel--
 it's getting to where I can't tell the difference." He
 grumbled.

	"That's because it's unnatural to work this
 late.  After 7:30, the mind starts having problems dif-
 ferentiating between fantasy and reality.  That's when
 normal people know it's time to go home."  She stepped
 around the back of his chair, laying her hands on his
 shoulders.  

	"I'm backed up." He gestured to the piles on his
 desk.

	"Ever hear of diminishing returns?"  She shook
 her head. "You've spent the past week agonizing over
 this cult thing, barely eating or sleeping.  Your part
 is done and it's time you take a night off before you
 do something drastic...like pull out all the remaining
 hair on your beautiful head." She leaned over him and
 he felt her lips graze the bare skin on top of his
 head. "Not that I'd mind." She murmured, making him
 smile.  Her fingers lightly kneaded his shoulders and
 he closed his eyes, feeling the momentary relief in the
 tense muscles.

	Disturbing images of bodies entwined together,
 blood dripping from mouths, made him snap his eyes open
 again and he looked up into Cait's troubled frown.

	"Ephesian killed those children, not you, Wal-
 ter."  Cait told him.

	"I could have stopped him."

	"You did everything you could, with the time and
 resources you had.  You have to believe that."  She
 spoke slowly.

	She was right; he knew she was right.  He'd
 heard those same words coming from his own lips, to an
 agent who had botched a hostage negotiation.  This was
 the first time anyone had ever said them to him.  The
 earnestness in Cait's voice made him want to believe
 it.

	He smiled at her. "Someday, you'll make a great
 A.D."

	She shook her head, smiling back, "You'll make
 an even better Director." Another squeeze to his
 shoulders. "Come on, I'll take you home."

	Home, surprisingly, was Cait's idyllic cottage
 on the outskirts of the city.  Within minutes of enter-
 ing the little house, he'd been stripped of coat and
 tie before being banished barefoot to the back porch,
 armed with a glass of red wine and under the watchful
 eyes of Toby, Cait's Rottweiler/Great Dane mix whose
 size belied one of the sweetest dispositions bestowed
 on man's best friend.  Cait changed into a loose pair
 of khakis and an oversized, worn gray T-shirt, pro-
 claiming the acronym of her alma mater, and started
 making a lot of noise in the kitchen.

	Cait's self-titled Alpha Male Meal--one of the
 few things she could cook--of a thick slab of medium
 rare steak, roasted potatoes, boiled carrots and onions
 and soft home-baked bread was consumed on the back
 porch in a comfortable, companionable silence and
 washed down with more red wine.

	After the meal, he was ordered  not to help
 clean up under threat of injury to his person so he
 stayed out on the porch, listening to the calming
 nuances of Chet Baker playing on the stereo indoors.

	He stood on the back porch, one arm braced
 against a supporting strut, his other hand absently
 scratching the head of the large dog at his side, as
 he looked out into the darkness.  She came up behind
 him, molding her body to his back, as she slid her
 arms around his middle.  Her warm breath fanned his
 neck, the subtle, sweet scent of her perfume enveloped
 him.  They stood together, calmly, her hands idly
 stroking the hard stomach beneath the soft cotton of
 his shirt.  He could feel her heart pounding away the
 seconds against his shoulder blade.  

	Toby retired to his favorite spot in front of
 the door.

	"Feeling any better?" She asked.

	He nodded, "How could I not--after that meal?"

	"There's something else I could do, to make it
 even better." Her fingers toyed casually with the but-
 tons on his shirt.

	Drawing his own conclusions, he debated against
 how to respond to what he perceived as a proposition
 then realized that honesty would work best with Cait,
 as it always did.

	"I don't think I'm quite up for that.'" He un-
 intentionally punned.

	He felt her lips curve up against his shoulder.
 "Not that."  She protested. "I promise I won't take
 advantage of your  weakened state."

	Curious as to what she had planned, he let her
 take his hand and lead him into the cozy living room
 where a pillow and quilt he recognized from the bedroom
 made  a pallet on the rug in front of the fireplace.

	She turned him to face her, pulling his shirt
 from his trousers, and unbuttoning it.  She eased it
 from his shoulders, off his wrists, her fingers linger-
 ing on biceps that flexed unconsciously beneath her
 touch.

	"Lie down on your stomach." She gestured towards
 the quilt and he complied, finally aware of what came
 next.

	She straddled his hips, distributing her weight
 in such a way as to not  cause him discomfort.  Her
 fingers made strong by hours at a piano settled on his
 shoulders and slowly began stroking and kneading the
 tension out of sore, bunched muscles.  Her thumbs
 traveled over his back, his shoulders, the base of his
 skull, easing him into submission, circling away the
 week of stress and pain.

	Forty minutes later, she leaned down and whis-
 pered in his ear. "Turn over."

	"Uh-unh." He protested, content to stay in his
 current warm state of limbo. 

	"Turn over, or else."  Her fingers lightly skim-
 med over his sides, making him jerk awake, sending her
 a little off-balance.  He complied, finally lying on
 his back, as she settled herself intimately against his
 pelvis and looked down at him.

	"Close your eyes." She said and he did, feeling
 her thumb pads against the center of his forehead,
 making little circles in rows from just above his eye-
 brows to the top of his forehead.  From there her
 fingers stroked the area between his eyes, easing out
 the deep furrows caused by hours of scowling.  His
 temples were next, then behind his ears, working down
 his jaw to the back and sides of his neck.

	He actually whimpered as the tension left his
 body and he turned into what felt like a limp noodle.
 He could sense her smile and he opened his eyes. 

	He reached up, catching one of her hands in his,
 and brought it  to his mouth.  Tenderly, he kissed her
 knuckles, one at a time, uncurling her fingers until
 her open palm pressed up against his lips.

	"Careful," She said, a huskiness in her voice.
 "You might make me forget my promise not to ravage
 you."

	"What if I've changed my mind?" He asked, enjoy-
 ing seeing her pupils dilate.

	In response, she moved her hips against him and
 he moaned, feeling the light pulsing of her sex against
 his growing stiffness.

	"Hmmm...feels like you are up to it now."  She
 mused.  

	Bracing her hands on either side of his head,
 she leaned forward, pressing herself against him.  Her
 teeth nipped lightly at his lower lip before her lips
 caught it, sucked lightly. "But we can't have you
 overextending yourself.  I mean, not after all I've
 done to get you relaxed."

	"What did you have in mind?" His hands rested on
 her legs clamped around his hips, fingers lightly
 stroking the backs of her thighs.

	"All manner of evil things that'll have you
 screaming for more." She promised sensually, evading
 his questing lips as she ducked her head to let her
 lips skim over his breastbone, her tongue stopping to
 lick the indentation at the base of his throat.  Her
 hips rotated leisurely against him.

	"God, Cait." He moaned. His fingers clenched
 into her thighs.

	Her lips curved on his skin as they moved fur-
 ther down, grazing his pectorals, rubbing her cheek
 against the springy mat of dark chest hair, teeth
 scraping the flat male nipples before wrapping her
 lips around them, suckling.

	A breath of air hissed out between his teeth and
 he moved his hands over her hips, under her shirt to
 caress the supple back that bent towards him.  She
 raised her head, her torso, and slipped her own hands
 under the shirt, pulling it up and over her head.  Her
 naked skin glowed pale in the firelight, her small
 round breasts crowned with erect nipples that beckoned
 to him.

	He sat up.  She leaned back into a hand that
 braced her as he bent his head, nuzzling her breasts as
 he mimicked her earlier movements, teeth and lips
 assaulting the defenseless peaks.  She whimpered over
 the lump in the back of her throat, raising a hand to
 clasp the back of his sweat-slicked head, pushing down
 and he sucked harder, the small bite of his teeth send-
 ing shocks of pleasure-pain through her.  She could
 feel the liquid warmth sliding down into her sex, felt
 the walls contract, release languidly.  She rubbed her-
 self against the bulge straining behind his trousers,
 sending little shocks of pure, unadulterated pleasure
 trembling through his body.

	"I want you." He raised his head, his own eyes
 dark and dilated.

	"I know." She responded, pushing him back down.

	He jerked as her lips grazed his stomach, moved
 lower into the trail of dark, curling hair that disap-
 peared into the waistband of his pants.  He watched her
 dark head move down, lower, felt her fingers tugging
 then a release.  He raised his hips as she moved back-
 wards, allowing her to pull off the rest of his
 clothes.  He watched her stand before him, working at
 the closures of her own clothes, and finally rid her-
 self slowly of them.

	He reached for her but she stayed just out of
 reach as she knelt down and pulled his thighs apart,
 sliding her shoulders under them.

	"Cait, you don't ..."

	Her fingers clamped around his wrists as his
 hands reached for her, forcing them down to his sides.

	"Walter, I want."  He heard her say.

	With the help of the pillow under his head, he
 could see her smile as she contemplated his enormous
 erection, standing up perpendicular to his body from
 its nest of curls.  Her tongue flicked out, licked her
 own lips, and he groaned, feeling his balls tighten.
 Her almond shaped eyes narrowed, making her look even
 more like the proverbial cat thinking about eating the
 canary.  

	He felt like the proverbial canary.

	She ducked her head and he felt rather than saw
  the tip of her tongue as it drew itself from the base
 of his penis slowly, excruciatingly, to the top.  His
 hands flexed in hers, trying to draw away, but she held
 on.  She dipped her head again, lips softly brushed
 against the sac between his legs.  She inhaled the
 slightly sour, musky scent of his balls, tasted him
 again, her lips nibbling up his length, taking her time
 as he writhed in ecstasy.

	She tongued off a drop of milky liquid that
 seeped out, wetting the tip of his cock, humming in
 approval of the taste as she swallowed.  She pursed up
 her lips and blew lightly on the throbbing head, making
 him whimper.  She flicked her tongue out, licking the
 tiny hole, around the rim, gently under the edge, down
 the sides.  

	He ached to have her mouth on him, fought to
 free his hands from their restraints and clamp down on
 the back of her head, pushing her down and around him.  And not being able to do that made him want her even more. 

	As if knowing how far gone he was, her mouth
 opened, her soft, wet lips slid over him, around him,
 taking him deep into her mouth, pressing against the
 back of her throat, still not managing to get all of
 him in.  She took her time, dragging her mouth up and
 down, delighting in the feel of  him in her mouth, the
 paradox of the hard, long heat wrapped in soft, smooth
 skin.

	He squirmed under her, reeling from the double
 assault of watching her do this to him as well as feel-
 ing her do it.  His hands jerked again as her pace on
 him quickened, the muscles in his arms bulged out, his
 labored breathing the only sound besides Cait's quiet
 humming.

	"Cait, ...you...have to...sss...oh god..." His
 head whipped back and forth against the pillow as he
 fought for control.   The grip of her hands on his
 wrists slackened as she moved to cup his ass, lifting
 him even higher into her mouth, her nails digging in.

	Blindly he reached down, his fingers gripped her
 hair and he pulled, dragging her up over his body des-
 pite her murmurs of protest.

	"Not like that, Cait." He rasped out as he pres-
 sed her head down to his, his lips engulfing hers.  He
 tasted himself on her as he plunged his tongue into her
 mouth.  Their bodies moved unbidden.  Her hands gripped
 his shaft as his fingers slid under her, opening her as
 she maneuvered him to penetrate her. She gasped as she
 felt him  spreading her inner walls and she clenched
 muscles around him in a soft, silken fist, making him
 moan her name loudly, imploring her to fuck him.

	Her clit rubbed against him as she moved urgent-
 ly, riding him hard, her hands braced in his as he
 raised his hips to match hers.  His name rang loudly
 from her lips as the tension built, spreading through-
 out her body, and the tears rolled down her cheeks.
 She came first, and he followed and their cries of
 pleasure mingled as they felt each other's overpowering
 release.  Waves of heat and pleasure swallowed the two
 bodies joined together, sending them shuddering in each
 other's arms.

	It seemed like an eternity before her body
 collapsed onto his, before his arms wrapped tightly
 around her, neither moving, heedless of the slickness
 at their joining.

	Conscious thought returned, though hazy.  Though
 exhausted, he managed to reach over and pull the edge
 of the quilt around them.  She lay on his chest, eyes
 closed, allowing her breathing to return to normal as
 he held her.

*	*	*	*	*	*	*
  Comments to the author at basbleu@nycmetro.com