(Warnings in Part 1)

*********

"Where are we," I asked in confusion as Will pulled the car 
into the driveway of a small house on the outskirts of the 
city.

Will shut off the engine and turned in his seat, taking my 
hands and staring into my eyes with an urgency I hadn't seen 
in him before. "I'm going to show you something, but first I 
need you to know that I would never do anything to hurt you."

My mouth opened and shut impotently, my mind at a total loss 
for words.

"Do you trust me," he asked.

I nodded instinctively. "Yes."

He let go of my hands to frame my face between his palms, 
drawing me in for a desperate kiss.

My mind scrambled to come up with a possible explanation for 
his behavior as he pulled me out of the car and into the 
house. I finally decided that either he was finally calling an 
end to our whirlwind affair, or he was planning to bring me 
into some sort of cult - more likely as a sacrifice than a 
member. 

The house was empty. 

"In here," Will directed, pointing to a closed door on the 
furthest wall. He opened it and stepped aside, allowing me to 
enter in front of him.

I don't think anything could have prepared me for what I saw 
when he turned on the lights. Pictures were plastered all over 
one wall over a heavy oak desk in a haphazard collage, along 
with post-it notes and scraps of paper, all with notes hastily 
scrawled on them in the same handwriting. Pictures of me, 
Sloane, Sydney, Lauren and a few other prostitutes I 
recognized from the Dauphine building. I scanned over them in 
shock, picking up random words and images. A picture of Sloane 
talking to a man I had never seen before. The words "Dauphine" 
and "Alliance". Another picture of Sydney, leaning in the 
window of some John's car, Lauren and I watching from a 
distance. One picture in particular caught my attention - a 
shot of me, standing in line at the grocery store, talking to 
Francie as I dug through my worn fake-leather wallet for the 
money Sydney, Lauren and I had pooled together that week. 
Will's earlier words came flooding back to me. "You were 
standing at the counter of the SavMart, buying groceries. You 
didn't see me, but I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

"What is all this," I asked, my head spinning.

Will reached into one of the desk drawers and pulled out a 
leather wallet, shoving it in my hands. I fumbled to get it 
open, my fingers feeling numb from shock. I froze as the 
leather sides gave way, revealing an official FBI badge and a 
photo ID of Will. Except the name on the ID was different.

"I don't understand..." I mumbled.

"My name is Fox Mulder. I'm with the FBI. Arvin Sloane is not 
the man you think he is. We've been trying to nail him for 
years. With your help, we may finally succeed."

"You lied to me," I said quietly, barely even registering the 
words he was saying. 

"Only about my name," he said gently, placing his hand on my 
shoulder. 

His touch jarred me from my paralysis. I flung his badge onto 
the desk as if it had burned me and ran for the door - unsure 
of where I was going but knowing that I didn't want to stay in 
this place. He caught me before I was halfway across the main 
room of the house. 

"Vaughn," he shouted. "Calm down!"

I fought him violently, so blinded by rage and fear that I 
wasn't even sure where I was striking or what I hoped to 
accomplish. He continued to shout at me, struggling to control 
my movements without hurting me, until finally I felt my back 
connect with the wall, my arms pinned at my sides. "Listen to 
me," he yelled.

"Fuck you, you son of a bitch," I spat, fighting to free 
myself from his strong grip. I tried to kick him and he 
responded by pressing the full length of his body against 
mine, holding me immobile, his chin pressed to my shoulder so 
I couldn't head butt him. 

"Please, Vaughn, I need you to listen to me," he begged, his 
warm breath caressing my ear. "I swear I never wanted to hurt 
you. Everything else I told you is the truth, I promise."

"Your promises are meaningless," I growled.

"Please, just hear me out..."

He yelped as I turned my head and bit down on his earlobe - 
hard. His grip loosened and I shoved him away, dashing toward 
the door. I had my hand on the doorknob when I heard a 
distinctive metallic *click*. I turned my head to find Agent 
Mulder's gun aimed at me.

"Are you going to kill me," I asked, my voice filled with 
disgust.

"No," he replied calmly. "But I can't let you leave yet. If 
you try to walk out that door I will have no choice but to 
shoot you."

He was bluffing. "Go ahead," I sneered, yanking the door open. 
The wall beside me exploded with a loud crack, sending shards 
of wood and plaster dust raining to the floor. I froze and 
looked back at him in disbelief. 

He lowered his weapon, aiming somewhere in the vicinity of my 
leg. "Next time I won't miss."

I closed the door with an angry slam. "What do you want?"

"I just want you to hear me out." He lowered his gun but 
didn't put it down. "Please."

I sat reluctantly in a large, comfortable chair, my eyes fixed 
on a indistinct point in space. He tucked his weapon away and 
sat on the coffee table, facing me, leaning uncomfortably 
close. 

"Vaughn," he began, reaching out for my hand. 

I yanked it violently out of his reach. "Don't touch me." 

He pulled his hand back, a wounded look creeping onto his 
face, and tried again. "Vaughn, I meant what I said. I may 
have lied to you about my name and I wasn't completely honest 
with you about my job, but everything else was...*is* true. I 
am a psychologist - I work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit at 
the FBI. I was married until four years ago when I slept with 
a coworker. I never lied to you, I just didn't tell you the 
whole story."

"Well, that makes me feel better," I said, my voice dripping 
with sarcasm.

"I need you to understand why I couldn't tell you this 
before."

"You used me," I hissed. "I don't need to know what it was 
for. You're no different than any other John."

He flinched visibly at that. 'Good,' I thought bitterly. 

"Just listen to me. Arvin Sloane is not the man you think he 
is. We have evidence that ties him to an organized crime ring. 
He's involved in drug and weapons trade and murder. We think 
he has ties to the Mafia."

I laughed. "Either you're lying to me again or you guys are 
seriously hard up for criminals because that is not Sloane."

"About a decade ago a man reported Sloane to the police. He 
said he could provide them with evidence of Sloane's criminal 
ties. His name was Daniel Hect."

I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut. All the breath went 
out of me in an instant and my heart wrenched at the mention 
of Danny.

"You're lying," I said stubbornly even though somewhere in the 
back of my mind I knew that I had never told this man Danny's 
last name. 

He just stood up and held his hand out to me. "Come with me. 
There's something you need to hear."

I pointedly ignored his hand and stood, not because I was 
interested in whatever he had to show me, but because I 
figured I didn't really have a choice.

He led me back to his office and pulled a tape recorder out of 
a desk drawer. "We've been watching Sloane for some time," he 
began. "We got this off a phone tap the day before Danny was 
killed." 

He hit play and a voice I had never heard before filled the 
room. "My superiors are becoming concerned about this 'leak' 
of yours, Arvin."

"I am aware of that," Sloane's familiar voice responded 
smoothly. "My contact has already informed me that he has 
identified the source."

"I trust you are handling this matter?"

"I have already made the arrangements. By tomorrow night, Mr. 
Hect should no longer be a problem."

Agent Mulder stopped the tape.

I stood frozen in place, horror and disbelief robbing me of my 
voice. I shook my head silently, blinking furiously to stave 
off my rapidly forming tears.

"I'm sorry, Vaughn," Agent Mulder said gently. 

His voice spurred me into action and I stumbled toward the 
door. He caught up to me easily, his hand under my arm, 
offering wary support. "Bathroom," I mumbled. He guided me to 
it and I dropped to the tiled floor immediately, heaving into 
the porcelain toilet. He didn't say anything. He just 
patiently waited for me to finish and handed me a wet 
washcloth.

"Why," I asked, my voice sounding pitiful even to my own ears. 

"Because Danny was a threat to him," he replied, flushing the 
toilet and kneeling on the floor next to me. "Danny tried to 
do the right thing. He didn't know that the cop he talked to 
was a contact of Sloane's. The report was never filed."

"No," I moaned, bringing my knees to my chest and 
unconsciously beginning to rock. This couldn't be happening.

He cupped my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. "He 
tried to save you from a monster and failed. I won't," he 
vowed. 

I snorted half-heartedly. "I'm a hustler. There's nothing you 
can do for me."

"Yes, there is," he insisted. "We can put you in witness 
protection - give you a new identity. You can get a job and 
start over." 

"Yeah, right. Nobody cares that much about me, man."

He kissed me gently, even though my breath must have been 
horrid. "I do. The FBI has been keeping tabs on you ever since 
we found out that you worked for Sloane. I was brought in to 
analyze potential targets - you and the girls - and figure out 
everybody's weaknesses - who would be most likely to provide 
us with the information we needed. I found myself drawn to you 
when I was doing my research - reviewing surveillance footage. 
I was attracted to you. And when the research told me that you 
were our best chance of catching Sloane, I volunteered to go 
undercover to draw you out. I wanted to meet you...touch you. 
And once I did I knew it had become about more than the 
assignment. I've fallen in love with you."

I shook my head, even as something inside me began to break 
and melt away. "You're crazy, Fox."

He laughed. "First of all, call me Mulder. I don't even let my 
parents call me Fox. And second, you're not the first person 
to point that out but it has nothing to do with my feelings 
for you. I miss you every moment we're not together. At times 
I wanted to call you just so I could hear your voice but I 
couldn't because I knew I would only be putting both of us in 
danger. I woke up before you one morning and just watched you 
sleep and I couldn't take my eyes off you. You looked so 
beautiful...so peaceful. And it hurt me to know that I would 
eventually have to tell you the truth - even if it meant 
saving you from this life - because I was so afraid I would 
lose you."

I didn't react as he pulled me into his arms - too stunned to 
reply. But after a moment, I sank into his embrace, wrapping 
my own arms around his shoulders and burying my face in his 
neck. I couldn't help feeling wary. It still felt like he had 
betrayed me. But his speech seemed so genuine that I wanted 
desperately to believe in it - to think that there was someone 
in the world who could love me that much and show such 
devotion.

"I love you," he murmured softly in my ear. "Please, don't run 
from me."

"I can't," I muttered, still dazed by the force of this sudden 
revelation. "You have the car."

He went silent for several breaths and then burst into 
laughter. He squeezed me tighter and kissed my cheek before 
reluctantly breaking away. "Let's see if I can find you a 
toothbrush."

******

He left me in the bathroom while I brushed my teeth and 
cleaned myself up. I found him in the kitchen after I had 
finished, pouring a glass of water.

"So what is this place," I asked.

"FBI safehouse." He shoved the glass into my hands. "Drink 
this. You need to stay hydrated."

I drank obediently, watching as he shoved the pitcher back 
into the refrigerator. "I can't help you. The FBI. I can't 
help you catch Sloane," I said softly.

He leaned against the counter and folded his arms. "What made 
you change your mind?"

"I didn't. I just can't do something that's going to put 
Lauren and Sydney and all the others who work for Sloane at 
risk."

"They won't be at risk," he started to argue, but I cut him 
off.

"You can't put them all in witness protection. Even if you 
don't arrest them, they'll just end up back out on the 
streets. Most of them can't make a living any other way and 
the rest won't even try because they don't know how."

Mulder crossed the kitchen to stand beside me, picking up a 
folder that he had left laying on the counter. He handed it to 
me. "You should see this," he said simply. 

I hesitated a moment before opening the folder. Clipped to the 
inside was a picture of a beautiful, raven-haired woman along 
with several official looking papers, one of which identified 
her as Nadia Santos, born in the late seventies in a small 
town in Argentina. She looked familiar, but I wasn't quite 
sure why. "What is this," I asked.

"She's one of Sloane's girls," Mulder answered. "She's an 
illegal immigrant. We think Sloane blackmailed her into 
working for him. And since she's not a U.S. citizen, she 
couldn't go to the police without risking deportation. And 
that's if she even knows anything about her situation - we 
don't even know if she speaks English. Not much is known about 
her except that her parents died when she was sixteen. The 
bottom line is that Sloane is holding her prisoner - whether 
she realizes it or not. She's a sex slave."

I closed the folder and shoved it back into his hands. "You're 
not going to guilt me into this. This woman - if she is who 
you say she is - just proves my point. You think taking her 
from Sloane is going to save her? I'm sure there's a reason 
she left Argentina and you guys will probably just send her 
back. If you don't throw her in jail first. Worst case 
scenario: she manages to escape deportation and jail time. She 
has no one to turn to, nowhere to go. How long do you think 
she'd survive on the streets?"

He sighed and tossed the folder back onto the counter, his 
hand brushing my cheek gently before settling against my neck. 
"This is going to happen one way or another. If you don't 
help, the FBI will just find another approach."

"Let them," I said stubbornly. "I won't do it."

"Vaughn..." He sighed. "Please. I want to help you. All of 
you. All we need is information. You can get close to Sloane 
without arousing suspicion."

"If he caught me searching through his office he would kill 
me."

"He would never find out. We can go over a plan with you and 
find a way to do it that would keep you safe."

I shook my head. "No. Danny tried it once and he was 
murdered." I could feel my throat squeeze briefly but my 
sadness over Danny's death was now replaced by anger over the 
knowledge of why he had died. 

"That won't happen to you..."

"You can't guarantee that," I practically shouted. "If I die, 
then what? You'll just try again? How many times do you think 
you can do this? And what if he suspects that I told Lauren or 
Sydney and goes after them next? I. Can't. Do it."

He pulled me into his arms and I gathered two handfuls of his 
shirt in my fists as angry tears formed in my eyes. "For once 
in my life...I don't want to die," I murmured as he rubbed my 
back. He remained silent for a while and I let the muffled 
sound of his steady heartbeat soothe me.

"Okay," he finally said with a sigh. "We don't have to do 
anything right now, but I want to give you some more time to 
think about it. Maybe we can think of some alternatives... 
something. Would you at least agree to think about it?"

I sighed. "Fine, but it won't do any good." 

"Thank you," he said softly, leaning his head down to brush 
his lips over mine. I felt a sudden shift in me and 
straightened, kissing him back enthusiastically, tugging his 
shirt loose from his slacks, desperate to feel his warm skin 
under my fingers - to know that he was real...that *this* was 
real. 

I held back a whimper as he pulled away. "Vaughn, you don't 
have to do this," he protested.

"No," I said quickly. "I want to." I ran my hands up over his 
chest, feeling his nipples tighten into stiff peaks as I 
flicked them with my thumbs. "I want to feel you...inside 
me...I want you to make love to me."

He groaned and pulled my arms from beneath his shirt, tugging 
me in the direction of the bedroom with a firm grip on my 
wrist.

******

"Stop teasing me," I groaned nearly an hour later, my hands 
twisting in the already rumpled sheets as he nipped and licked 
up and down the insides of my thighs. He had managed to make 
me come once already - before he'd even finished taking all 
his clothes off - and he seemed determined to do it again 
before he got around to actually fucking me. 

"I'm not teasing," he murmured, biting at the sensitive skin 
on the inside of my knee before winding a path back up my 
thigh, swirling his tongue maddeningly over my hipbone. "You 
wanted me to make love to you."

"That doesn't mean I want you to kill me with foreplay," I 
muttered. I hissed, my back arching from the bed as his hand 
closed around my swollen cock, stroking slowly, his touch too 
light to bring me any closer to the edge but firm enough to 
maintain my level of arousal. 

I whimpered as his limber tongue painted abstract patterns on 
my abdomen. "Who said this was foreplay," he asked gently 
between swipes. "Relax. I know what I'm doing."

Reality came crashing into me as he began to move lower, his 
mouth coming increasingly close to my cock. I stopped him with 
a firm grip on his head. "Don't," I gasped. "It's not safe..."

A condom seemed to materialize in his hand and he had it 
unrolled over me before I could say anything more. He stuffed 
a pillow under my hips and sat back on his heels, his eyes 
roving over my body appreciatively. "Is that comfortable?"

I sighed, frustrated. "Yes, but..."

He cut me off with a stern gesture. He reached into a nearby 
dresser drawer and removed a tube of lubricant. "I need you to 
trust me. Just lay back and relax. Let me do this for you. I 
want to make you feel good." 

I sighed and gave in, letting my body sink into the mattress, 
the tension easing from my muscles. In spite of everything, I 
realized I did trust him. I closed my eyes and listened to the 
cap on the lubricant pop open and snap shut seconds later, my 
cock throbbing in anxious anticipation. I moaned as one 
slippery finger pressed against my opening, massaging gently, 
encouraging the clenching muscles to relax. 

"Open your eyes," he whispered. I did and whimpered when he 
rewarded me by slipping his finger inside, stilling once he 
was in past the second knuckle. "Say my name."

"Mulder," I whispered.

He smiled. "Good." Then he bent to take my cock in his mouth, 
his finger moving inside me in slow thrusts. 

I writhed on the bed as he slowly brought me to a second 
orgasm, the pleasure effectively distracting me from the burn 
of his fingers stretching me. I came with a wail, my hips 
jerking in furtive thrusting motions, my muscles clenching and 
rippling against his intruding fingers.

I went boneless, my body unresissting as he rolled me onto my 
side and pressed himself to my back. My own breathy moan rang 
in my ears, even though I wasn't aware I was making the noise, 
as he drew my leg up and over his and pushed his cock inside 
me. My sated body offered no resistance and I realized that 
that was exactly what he had been hoping to accomplish. 

When his hips were flush with mine, he stopped and simply held 
me, seemingly content to just lay there, his hands lovingly 
soothing my body. 

"Are you okay," he asked quietly, pressing his lips to my 
sweaty neck.

"Yeah," I gasped. I wiggled against him experimentally. There 
was no pain - not even discomfort - just an incredible feeling 
of fullness. "Move...please."

I made a tiny noise deep in my throat as he began to thrust, 
his movements agonizingly slow and wonderfully slippery. He 
was positioned at just the right angle to brush tantalizingly 
against my prostate and I whimpered as my cock began to stir 
lazily after several minutes. 

He stroked my thigh comfortingly. "Just let it happen," he 
murmured. 

I made tiny rocking motions against him as my strength 
gradually returned.

"That's it," he cooed, his thrusts growing a little more 
forceful. 

"Stop," I panted. "I want to see you..."

I nearly changed my mind when he pulled out suddenly, leaving 
me achingly empty. I felt the mattress sway and bounce as he 
re-settled himself and turned to find him reclining against a 
haphazard pile of pillows. He held his hand out to me and 
pulled me over his lap. I moaned as I sank down onto his cock, 
the sound muffled when he drew me in for a sloppy kiss. I 
swayed dangerously as I tried to ride him - the sated lethargy 
left by my previous orgasms making me clumsy.

His frustratingly calm grip on my hips stilled my awkward 
movements. "Do you want me to be on top," he asked, his voice 
tight with restraint. 

I shook my head stubbornly. "Just...help me."

He managed to sit up and scoot backward on the bed until both 
he and the pillows were propped against the wall, all without 
breaking our connection. I reached for the headboard and used 
it for leverage, hauling myself halfway up his thick cock 
before plunging back down. His hands gripped my hips firmly, 
supporting me and guiding my movements and I kissed him 
gratefully.

I moaned and whimpered as the heat began to pool once more in 
my abdomen. I was so lost in pleasure that the world seemed to 
blur. "Mulder," I gasped as my body began to tremble 
uncontrollably. 

His hands seemed to be everywhere at once - both soothing me 
and encouraging me to move faster, harder. I whined, my hips 
beginning their own mindless rhythm, my exhaustion forgotten 
in the heat of the moment. I vaguely felt Mulder's hands 
tremble against my skin, but I was too far gone to care 
anymore. I closed my eyes and let my head loll on my 
shoulders, panting heavily. 

Mulder let go of my hip with one hand, bringing it up to cup 
my cheek. "I didn't think it was possible," he whispered 
heatedly. "But you're more beautiful than ever right now."

I moaned, only barely hearing his words as the wave of my 
third orgasm rushed to greet me. My mouth fell open and I 
jerked spasmodically against his grip as it washed over me, 
tossing me mercilessly. Incoherent noises spilled from my lips 
but I was helpless to curb them. I was helpless to do anything 
but let the overwhelming pleasure take over my body. I heard 
him groan from a great distance and felt his thick length 
pulse hotly inside me as he followed shortly after.

I collapsed against his chest when it was over, my chest 
heaving, trembling and weak as a newborn kitten. He stroked my 
back as I drifted back to my body. 

"No," I slurred, clinging to him as tightly as I could when he 
tried to roll me onto my back. "Don't move."

He hesitated. "Okay, just...lift up a little..." I moaned as 
he helped me raise up over him, feeling him draw his softening 
cock out and hearing the familiar noises of a condom being 
removed and thrown away. 

I sank back into his lap, my head resting heavily on his 
shoulder, and hummed contentedly when he drew the sheet over 
my cooling body and kissed my forehead. 

"Is this comfortable," he asked.

I made an affirmative noise and snuggled deeper into his 
warmth. 

"So why did Sloane hit you," he asked gently.

I sighed. Might as well get it over with. "He thinks I'm 
spending too much time with you - that I'm neglecting the 
other Johns." 

"Okay," he said after a long pause. "I'll let you rest for a 
while and then I'll take you back."

"No," I protested. "The girls are covering for me..."

"Sloane's paranoid," Mulder interrupted. "He could have you 
monitored at all times. You can't give him any reason to be 
suspicious." 

I tightened my grip around his neck involuntarily. "Does that 
mean I can't see you anymore," I asked, trying not to sound 
too remorseful. 

He gently coaxed my head from his shoulder so he could look 
into my eyes. "No. It means we have to be more careful. 
Whether or not you choose to help us, I'm in too deep to turn 
back now. I won't leave you. At least not until I know you're 
safe. If, by then, you decide that you don't want anything to 
do with me, I'll walk away, but not until then."

I hesitated. "When you asked me to move to Virginia with 
you..."

"I meant it," he said firmly. "Witness protection would be 
even more effective if you're as far away from Sloane as 
possible. And I would feel better if I could keep you close - 
make sure you're safe." He paused. "But mostly I just want you 
near me."

I lowered my eyes and kissed his shoulder softly. "I want 
you," I admitted somewhat reluctantly. "But I can't help 
you...the FBI. Spending time with me would only waste time you 
could spend getting one of the girls to give you information."

"None of them have been around as long as you. You have 
Sloane's trust - you have access they don't. I just need you 
to think about it. I'll give you a week and if you still don't 
want to do this, we'll start considering alternatives."

I closed my eyes and sighed mentally. "Okay," I agreed.

*******
(Two hours later)

"Remember, you can't tell anyone about any of this," Mulder 
said as he turned the green Ford onto our street. "Not even 
your friends. Sloane can't suspect anything out of the 
ordinary. You can tell them you were with me, just tell them I 
took you to the same hotel as usual and try not to act 
suspicious."

"Trust me, if there's one thing we prostitutes are good at - 
it's acting."

He winced subtly. "I may send somebody else to pick you up or 
deliver messages after tonight. I wanted to warn you so you 
don't panic, but you should treat them as you would any John, 
just in case anyone's watching."

I nodded, plucking at my too-tight jeans nervously. "Okay."

He pulled the car up to the curb, several feet away from where 
Sydney stood leaning against the lamppost, waiting 
impatiently. 

Mulder grabbed my hand and squeezed. "Be careful."

I squeezed his hand back, shooting him a tight smile. "Yeah, I 
will." Then I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, 
forcing myself to relax. If this was going to work I was going 
to have to pretend the last few hours hadn't happened. 

Sydney looked surprised to see me. "What happened?"

"Nothing, he just has an early meeting tomorrow," I lied 
easily. "And I told him I can't spend the night anymore."

She smiled sympathetically. "You really like this guy, don't 
you?"

I shrugged. "He pays well," I said flippantly. I pulled the 
money he had given me from my pocket and her eyes grew wide, 
dollar signs practically flashing in her pupils. 

"He paid you for the whole night anyway," she asked in 
disbelief.

"Yeah, he figured out that my pimp gave me my black eye and 
said he felt sorry for getting me in trouble."

"Fuck Sloane," she exclaimed. "If Will keeps paying you like 
this, you can stay as long as you want and we'll sneak you 
back into the apartment when the bastard's not looking."

I laughed. "No, it's okay. Sloane's right. I've been 
neglecting the other regulars. Will probably won't be hanging 
around much anymore anyway."

I hoped I didn't sound as disappointed about that as I felt.

*******
(Three days later)

I grunted as Sark fucked me into the worn mattress at the 
Horizon motel. He had me tied face down in a spread eagle, 
bound to the creaking bedframe by my wrists and ankles. I 
struggled against him but there wasn't much I could do from my 
position. 

"I see your precious Will has been coming by less frequently."

"Quit stalking me you sick bastard," I hissed as he stimulated 
my prostate, causing my erection to press uncomfortably into 
the bed. "My life is none of your fucking business."

"Ah, but it is my business," he cooed. "I make it a point to 
get to know the men I sleep with."

I snorted. "Then why don't you try talking to me instead of 
following me around?"

I didn't need to turn my head to know he was smirking. "It's 
more fun this way."

"You're a twisted fucker," I grumbled as he came with 
astonishing speed.

"You've no idea," he gasped as he pulled out of me and 
disposed of the condom. 

My eyes widened as he dangled what was obviously a shiny new 
set of anal beads in front of my face. "Props cost extra, 
man," I said calmly, my asshole clenching in apprehension at 
the thought of having those things shoved inside me. The 
largest one had to be a good two inches across.

"I'll pay," he said with a wicked smirk. He disappeared from 
my line of sight and I hissed as I felt him push the first 
bead inside me.

"I don't understand what you get out of this," I grumbled as 
he continued to push one bead after another past my lax 
opening, each one slightly larger than the last.

"The pleasure of being in control," he purred silkily. "Of 
watching you writhe and scream and beg me to put an end to the 
exquisite torture."

"I'm not begging you for anything," I spit, groaning as the 
last bead was pushed inside, spreading me wide and forcing me 
to accommodate its girth. I squirmed restlessly at the feeling 
of fullness and gasped as the movement jostled the beads, 
causing them to bump and roll over my prostate. Sark untied my 
limbs and stood beside the bed, his naked sweaty body glowing 
in post-coital bliss.

"Stand up," he said simply. 

I gasped and moaned as I obeyed him, sparks of pleasure flying 
through me with every subtle movement as the beads rolled 
around inside me. 

"Sit in that chair," he ordered, pointing to the straight, 
hardback chair ten feet from the bed. I stood gingerly and 
awkwardly made my way over to it. By the time I sat down I was 
sweating, my eyes were unfocused and I was moaning almost 
continuously. I focused on catching my breath while Sark re-
tied my limbs to the chair. The second he had me secure he 
produced a small remote control seemingly from nowhere and 
flipped the switch. Instantly, the beads inside me began to 
vibrate and I whimpered, struggling against my bonds futilely 
as the stimulation brought me careening toward orgasm. The 
more I struggled, the more the beads moved, pressing against 
my prostate, threatening to drive me insane with pleasure.

As abruptly as it had started, the vibration stopped. I panted 
while Sark drew his index finger gently along the length of my 
cock, swirling through the moisture leaking from the tip. "I'm 
not begging you," I said determinedly. If it was anyone else, 
I would have given him what he wanted readily in the hopes of 
getting it over with faster. But this was Sark. I knew he 
wouldn't appreciate a quick surrender.

I clenched my jaw as the beads began to vibrate again, letting 
my body go limp and riding out the sensation. I knew I didn't 
have to worry about holding off my orgasm - he was skilled 
enough to be able to stop me before that happened.

"Tell me more about Will," he said when the vibrations stopped 
again.

"What," I gasped. I had fucked a lot of guys with strange 
kinks but this guy was definitely proving to be the weirdest.

The beads pulsed once, briefly. "Why did Will suddenly abandon 
you after he tried so hard to win you over?"

"How the fuck should I know? You think I'm psychic?"

Sark bent over to lick teasingly around the shell of my ear 
and hovered there, letting me feel his breath on the delicate 
skin. I shivered in spite of myself. "Guess," he whispered.

I struggled against my bonds. "Maybe he gave up on me and went 
back to Virginia," I sneered. "I really don't fucking care."

"I would think you, of all people, *would* care seeing as you 
said yourself he paid you very generously."

"So do you but you wouldn't see me crying if you disappeared 
tomorrow. Johns come and go. It's the nature of the business." 
I hissed and bucked as the beads began vibrating again.

"Good to know," he mumbled absently.

The vibration stopped. "Damnit Sark," I spit, my patience 
wearing thin. "Finish this!"

Sark smiled victoriously. "In a moment," he promised. "First I 
want to see how good you are at multi-tasking."

He had a condom on in seconds and forced my head down 
awkwardly so I could suck him off while he played some more 
with the anal bead controls.

I came several long minutes later, struggling not to choke on 
his cock as he reached his own orgasm, thrusting wildly down 
my throat. I squirmed and bucked in the chair as the beads 
continued vibrating long after I was finished coming, 
stimulating me to the point of pain. I whimpered when he 
finally turned the beads off and lay limp while he untied me. 

He massaged my arms as he released them, more for efficiency 
than as a show of affection. "Will 500 dollars be sufficient," 
he asked in an appropriately business-like tone.

I nodded dumbly and sat quietly while he got dressed. He 
tossed my clothes in my lap. "Get dressed. And you can keep 
the beads," he added, slipping the remote into my hand and 
smiling devilishly. "Consider it a souvenir."

*******

When Sark returned me to the corner I was surprised to find a 
woman I only vaguely recognized as one of Sloane's girls 
waiting for me in Sydney and Lauren's place. 

"Are you Vaughn," she asked.

I nodded, racking my brain for her name. "Rachel, right?"

She smiled and nodded. "Sydney and Lauren wanted me to send 
you back to the Dauphine as soon as possible."

I frowned, baffled. "Why?"

She shrugged. "They didn't say."

Before I could think of any further questions to ask, a car 
pulled up to the curb, its driver motioning to her. "I have to 
go," she said kindly. "Good luck!"

As I watched her saunter up to the car, her light brown hair 
bobbing and swaying behind her, I was struck by just how many 
people Sloane had deceived. This girl looked so innocent and 
sweet. I was torn between my desire to help Mulder catch him 
and my fear of the consequences of such an action.

*******

"What's going on," I asked when Lauren opened the door. She 
looked pale and worried. "Where's Sydney? Is she okay?"

Lauren nodded numbly and said only one word. "Bedroom."

I found Sydney slumped on the end of the bed. She looked like 
she had been crying. Her eyes were swollen and red, faint 
traces of mascara marring her cheeks. 

"What is it?" I went to sit next to her but she halted my 
progress by thrusting a thin piece of plastic into my hands. I 
stared at the stark white stick, its flat surface marred by 
two bright pink lines. "What..."

"I'm pregnant," she said, her voice hoarse-sounding and thick 
with tears.

My knees went weak. I dropped to the bed beside her silently.

"It's yours," she added.

"Are you sure," I asked, stunned. I winced internally, knowing 
how insensitive that question sounded, but in our line of 
business it was a valid question.

"That night two weeks ago," Lauren cut in, appearing suddenly 
in the doorway. "The condom broke. Sydney made me promise I 
wouldn't tell you."

My mind reeled. "Why would you..."

"Because I thought maybe if I didn't think about it, nothing 
would happen," Sydney interrupted. "I knew there was a risk of 
me getting pregnant that week and when I saw the rip in the 
condom...I was scared. I thought maybe I could *will* it 
away."

I drew her into my arms. "Okay. We'll figure something out."

"I think I know of a place that does abortions," Lauren 
offered. "It's completely legal..."

"I don't want to abort," Sydney interrupted.

"Sydney, are you sure you want to have this baby," I asked.

"What if this is my only chance to be a mother? What if it's 
your only chance to be a father? I don't know if I could live 
with myself knowing what I could have had but didn't because I 
was too scared of losing my job as a hooker," she argued. She 
wiped her eyes angrily and sniffled. "I can't tell Sloane. I 
don't know how I'm going to work..."

"Let us worry about that," Lauren said, coming to sit beside 
us on the bed, rubbing Sydney's back comfortingly. 

Sydney reached back to grab her hand, holding onto it like a 
lifeline. "Thank you."

I didn't sleep much that night. I lay awake, staring at the 
stains on the ceiling, feeling Sydney's warm breath on my 
chest, her fingers entwined with mine, twitching every once in 
a while in her sleep. Lauren was also fast asleep, spooned up 
behind Sydney, one arm draped over her, fingers just brushing 
my stomach. I traced one particularly long crack in the 
ceiling with my eyes and debated whether or not it was worth 
it to risk my life and the safety of all the other girls in 
the building, so my child could have a better life.

*******
(Four days later)

"How much," the driver asked in a raspy voice. His bright blue 
eyes and vaguely southern drawl conveyed a gentleness that 
belied his harsh features and severe military-short haircut. 

"Fifty to a hundred depending on what you want," I replied, 
pitching my voice low.

"Get in."

I climbed into the SUV and started directing him to the usual 
alley as he pulled away from the curb.

"Actually, I think we may need someplace more private," he 
interrupted, his eyes flitting between the rearview and 
sideview mirrors. 

I smirked and reached across the console, rubbing my hand 
against the inside of his thigh. "You planning to make me 
scream," I asked seductively. 

"No, I think we're being followed," he said as he reached into 
his pocket and pulled out a wallet, opening it so I could see 
the now-familiar FBI badge. 

I jerked my hand back as if I'd been burned. "Mulder sent 
you?"

He nodded. "Just point me to the nearest hotel and we can 
talk."

I craned my neck slightly, trying to see in the rearview 
mirror as I gave him the directions to the Horizon. 

"Don't look. They can't know you're onto them."

I sank back into my seat complacently, my heart pounding and 
my head spinning. Was it just Sark being his perverted self or 
was Sloane really having me followed?

I sat staring nervously ahead and continued giving directions. 

"Is there a room you usually get," the agent asked as he 
pulled into the parking lot. 

"Number four," I said meekly, nodding toward a door further 
down the row of hotel rooms.

He nodded and patted my knee absently. "Stay here. Try to 
relax. Pretend this is business as usual."

I took several deep breaths while he stepped out and headed 
for the front office. Business as usual. Right. I looked out 
the window, searching for the car that had been following me, 
trying not to convey anything more than bored curiosity. I 
couldn't see anyone suspicious, but then I hadn't seen anyone 
earlier either. Whoever it was, they obviously knew how to 
stay inconspicuous. I jumped when the door on my side of the 
car opened.

"Room seven," said the agent, holding the door open for me. 

I followed him to the room, resisting the urge to look around 
the parking lot again, keeping my posture relaxed. If somebody 
was watching me, then they weren't going to suspect this was 
anything more than a routine fuck. I made sure I brushed 
against the agent as I walked past him into the room. He 
pulled the curtains and then turned to me, holding out his 
hand. "My name's John Doggett. I'm Fox Mulder's partner."

I shook his hand, my eyes widening as a previous conversation 
with Mulder flitted across my mind. "I think he's mentioned 
you...you were the reason he got a divorce, right?"

Agent Doggett's lips pursed. "He tell you about that?" 

"He didn't go into details, but yeah," I said as he peaked 
through the curtain, making sure anybody looking in couldn't 
see him. He motioned to me and stood back so I could look at 
what he was seeing. 

"That guy down there in the suit. You ever seen him before?"

The man he indicated was standing beside a car, talking on his 
cell phone and gesturing angrily. "No. Never. Was he the guy 
following me?"

John nodded grimly and pulled what looked like a fancy earbud 
for a cellphone from his pocket, settling it in his right ear 
as he stepped away from the window. "Agent Mulder, do you 
copy?"

I watched the man outside a while longer until he looked up in 
my direction. I jerked my head back, plastering myself to the 
wall, my heart racing, hoping he hadn't seen me. After several 
shaky breaths, I peeked back out and sighed with relief when I 
saw the man still deeply involved in his conversation. If he 
had seen me, he gave no indication. I stepped away from the 
window and watched as John paced the floor anxiously. 

"Agent Mulder," he repeated. "Is this line secure? ...Okay, 
change of plan. I've got him, but it looks like we were 
followed...We're at a hotel. Sloane's man's got us under 
surveillance so we're gonna have to do this quick before he 
starts gettin' suspicious...All right." 

John removed the earpiece and handed it to me, helping me 
place it in my own ear when I hesitated.

"Mulder," I asked tentatively. 

His relieved voice filled my ear instantly. "Vaughn, are you 
okay?" 

"I'm fine," I replied automatically, despite the anxious 
pounding of my heart.

"Have you thought about..."

"Sydney's pregnant," I blurted before he could finish the 
question.

My exclamation was met with stunned silence. "What," he 
finally asked.

"Sydney's pregnant," I repeated. "The baby's mine."

He blew out a noisy breath. "Vaughn..."

I interrupted him again. "If I do this...if I help you, you 
have to promise me that she'll be taken care of."

He didn't hesitate. "Of course. Whatever she needs. I'll help 
pay medical expenses myself if I have to."

"She just needs help getting back on her feet - finding a job 
with a decent health plan."

"Not a problem," he said, sounding relieved. "Does this mean 
you're in?"

I closed my eyes, swallowing my fear and apprehension and 
nodded. "Yes. I'll help you catch Sloane."

"That's great," Mulder said and from the tone of his voice I 
could tell he was smiling broadly. "I promise I'll make sure 
you and the girls are taken care of."

"What do you need me to do?"

"We'll start out slow. For now, just find out as much as you 
can about the rest of Sloane's girls. How many there are, 
their names, what apartments they live in - just the basics. 
And try to keep close to Sloane - make sure he trusts you. See 
if you can get into his office alone, but don't do anything 
yet. Just make note of as many details as you can about the 
room so we can direct your search later. Don't start poking 
around yet, we just need to know where things are in the room, 
what type of computer he uses...that sort of thing. Be 
careful. We don't want him to get suspicious."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Okay. When will I 
see you again?" I winced at how needy the question made me 
sound.

"I don't know," Mulder said gently. "We'll try to work out an 
arrangement, but we have to be careful."

I turned my back to John, even though he already had his back 
to me and was obviously pretending not to hear me, staring 
cautiously out the window at our follower, giving me the 
illusion of privacy. "I miss you," I admitted softly, feeling 
a blush rise to my cheeks. 

"I miss you too, baby. I'm sorry. We'll try to work something 
out, but I don't want to put you at risk."

"I know," I said softly. If there was one thing I had become 
certain about where Mulder was concerned it was that he would 
never do anything that he thought could hurt me.

"I'll talk to you again soon. Can you put Agent Doggett back 
on the line?"

I removed the earpiece and held it out for John. "He wants to 
talk to you."

John stuck the receiver into his ear, keeping his eyes focused 
on the man in the parking lot and making sure he stayed hidden 
in the shadows. "We have to get going," he said, as much to me 
as to Mulder. "Our tail is gettin' restless. I'll contact you 
when I'm clear." He jammed the receiver back in his pocket and 
untucked his shirt, rumpling it and re-tucking it haphazardly, 
trying to appear as if he'd just had a quick fuck.

I shifted awkwardly, wanting to help any way I could but 
unsure of what I could contribute. "Bite me," I said suddenly, 
before the idea had even fully formed in my mind.

John squinted at me. "Excuse me?"

"You want it to look real," I asked calmly, pulling the collar 
of my T-shirt aside, partially exposing my right shoulder. 
"Trust me." 

He hesitated. "What makes you think I'd do something like 
that?"

"Mulder said you used to be marine. You look...severe. I'd 
expect a guy like you to be rough with me."

He stepped closer to me and I forced myself not to flinch as 
his hand wrapped around my arm. "I'm not that guy," he said 
softly. Then he shoved my back against the nearest wall and 
pinned my arms at my sides with a bruising grip. "But if it'll 
help..." I couldn't hold back a small yelp as he bit me, hard, 
right where my neck met my shoulder. It wasn't enough to 
break the skin, but it would definitely leave a mark. I pulled 
instinctively against his hold, but his strong hands kept me 
from escaping. I whimpered and tried to hold still as he 
finished marking me. 

"You okay," he asked as he let me go.

I nodded and ran my fingers through my hair shakily, mussing 
it just a little, hoping it was enough, docilely stuffing the 
money in my pocket when he thrust it into my hands. "Try 
pinching your cheeks a little," I suggested.

He gave me a friendly smirk before following my instructions, 
forcing his cheeks to turn slightly pink. "You're a smart 
kid," he said kindly as he opened the shades and reached for 
the door. "I can see why Fox likes you."

******

My knee bounced restlessly the whole ride back to the corner 
as I tried not to look back for the car that I now knew was 
following us. 

"Relax," John said, giving me a friendly pat on the arm. 
"You'll do fine."

"What if Sloane suspects something," I asked worriedly. "What 
do I do if something goes wrong?"

John subtly reached over and popped the glove compartment, 
revealing owner's manuals and service records and a small 
disposable cell phone. "Take it," he said. "Speed dial one 
will get you through to Fox. Two will get you the bureau's LA 
office. Tell them who you are and what your situation is and 
they'll know what to do." 

I tucked the phone in my shoe - the only place I knew no one 
would be able to spot it and I could keep it safe. "Thanks."

"Don't worry," he assured me as he pulled up to the curb. 
"It'll be over before you know it."

I gave him a small, tight smile before climbing out of the 
truck and joining Sydney over by the bench. Her eyes widened 
when she saw the bruise forming on my neck. "I thought you 
weren't going to let them be rough with you anymore," she 
accused.

"I thought you were giving up smoking," I replied, pointing to 
the cigarette dangling from her fingers. 

"It's Lauren's," she shot back indignantly. "Don't change the 
subject."

"It's one little bite. It's not like he tied me to a tree and 
fucked me until I bled. He did it in the heat of the moment. 
In fact, he actually apologized for it afterward." That much 
was basically true. 

I coaxed the cigarette from her fingers and took a drag from 
it, grimacing at the taste. It really was Lauren's cigarette - 
she was the only one who liked that mentholated crap. I 
suspected she had started buying them to try to get me to quit 
along with Sydney. In the few days since she found out about 
the pregnancy, she had been trying to get us to adopt better 
habits. No smoking, no drinking...Sydney was only allowed to 
give handjobs and blowjobs, that kind of thing. It was almost 
funny really, considering the vocation we were in. Lauren and 
I were doing double time to lighten Sydney's load, but we all 
knew it would only work for so long. Eventually, Sydney would 
start to show. She and Lauren figured they'd cross that bridge 
when they came to it. I couldn't tell them that I was already 
clearing the path.

*******

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Sloane," I asked as I stepped into 
my employer's dim office. 

Sloane looked up, seemingly caught off guard. "Mr. 
Vaughn...yes, come in," he said smoothly, getting up from 
behind his desk and stuffing a large, manila folder into a 
drawer. I made a mental note of that as I closed the door 
behind me. Sloane perched on the edge of his desk casually. "I 
wanted to apologize to you for the other day. I let my 
frustration get the better of me and I caused you undeserved 
pain. I'm sorry."

"No, you were right," I argued. "Mr. Kuipers lured me with 
generous offers and I took the bait. I let him distract me 
from the other regulars. It won't happen again." I didn't 
believe a word of what I was saying, but that didn't matter as 
long as Sloane believed that I was on his side.

He smiled and for the first time I saw a spark of evil in the 
kindly smile I had seen so many times before. "Still," he 
sighed, standing up and walking past me. "That is no excuse 
for the way I treated you." I swallowed hard, my heart 
pounding as I heard the ominous click of the tumbler in the 
lock, trapping me in the small office. I tried to quell my 
apprehension and appear calm as he came back around to face 
me. I didn't flinch as his fingers brushed along my arm, his 
hand closing around my wrist. "I hope that you will allow me 
to make it up to you," he said, his tone of voice making it 
clear exactly how he intended to do so.

I swallowed. "All right," I said weakly.

I closed my eyes, more to block him out than anything else, as 
I felt his lips brush my cheek, tracing the edges of the 
healing bruise he had given me. I knew that there was still a 
chance he actually felt remorse for what he had done. No 
matter how evil he may have been, I knew there was at least a 
part of him that was capable of love. I had seen it in his 
fatherly devotion toward Sydney and in the heartbroken 
expression on his face when he regarded me after the rape. Or 
was that just what I had wanted to see? Had he looked at me 
the same way after Danny was murdered? All those days I had 
spent crying on his shoulder, had he ever felt any remorse for 
ordering my lover's death?

I let myself be led to the plush couch in the corner opposite 
his desk. I laid back quietly as my clothes were removed, 
trying not to show my revulsion as his hands explored my body 
intimately, his eyes becoming hooded and dark as my bare skin 
was exposed to him a little at a time. He frowned when he 
uncovered the bruises I had gotten from encounters with 
windows and steering wheels in tight quarters, the scratch on 
my hip from an overly enthusiastic John, the fading mark on my 
neck I had instructed Agent Doggett to give me. I wondered if 
he was bothered by the evidence of the careless treatment I 
received from my Johns or if it was merely the reminder of how 
many men I fucked on any given day. 

It was easier than I anticipated. In the end, it wasn't any 
different than any of the thousands of times I'd had a man 
between my thighs. It was no less painful or unpleasant than 
the average John. Except that the revulsion I felt now was 
deeper and more intense. Twelve years ago he had fucked me 
like this, knowing that, at that moment, Danny was dying in 
some dirty back alley somewhere. I twisted the fabric of his 
shirt tighter in my fists and moaned. He hardly ever removed 
his clothes when he fucked me - and the scrape of his zipper 
against the backs of my thighs always made my skin raw.

I made small, helpless noises of pleasure when he came, 
knowing it pleased him when I did that. Then I closed my eyes 
and laid still, waiting for him to get up, dispose of the 
condom, fix his clothing and tell me I could leave as usual. 
So I was taken completely by surprise when I felt his hand 
close around my cock, stroking me gently, coaxing me toward 
orgasm. My eyes must have registered my surprise. He smiled 
silently at me and pressed his lips to my cheek, his right 
hand stroking my hair soothingly, the fatherly gesture at odds 
with the movements of his left hand below. I whimpered when I 
came, clutching his arm tightly as if it would keep me 
grounded. I lay dazed as he cleaned me with one of the wet 
wipes he seemed to always have on hand and drew me into his 
arms, holding me as if I were a small child in need of 
comfort.

His fingers brushed the edges of my bruise as he began to 
speak. "I know what I did was wrong. I just hope you can find 
it within you to forgive me."

I didn't respond, knowing he didn't really expect me to. I 
wondered if he was asking my forgiveness for his violent 
outburst a week ago or for his betrayal twelve years ago.

I cried later in the shower, letting the hot water wash away 
my tears. I cried for myself, for Danny, for Sydney and our 
unborn child that would eventually be brought into this cruel 
world and for every other prostitute that ever lived in the 
Dauphine building. But mostly I cried over a world in which a 
man like Sloane could ignore his own capacity for human 
kindness and cause so much pain for so many people.

********

I quickly determined that getting Sloane's trust would be 
easy, but in order to keep it I would have to refrain from any 
behavior that strayed too far from normal lest I raise his 
suspicions. That made collecting census data on the rest of 
the buildings residents that much more difficult. I developed 
a habit of jogging up and down the stairs at least once a day, 
branching out into the halls at each level, telling anyone who 
asked that I was trying to quit smoking and exercise was the 
only way I could effectively distract myself from my nicotine 
cravings. Really, I was looking for an excuse to run into 
other residents. Questions of why I was using the building as 
my personal racing track proved to be a perfect conversation 
starter and after a week I had learned the names of several of 
Sloane's girls. I drew sketchy diagrams of the building at 
night, noting room numbers and checking them off one by one as 
I learned the names of the people who lived in each one. 

What I didn't learn on my jogs, I was able to fill in by 
chatting with the girls on laundry duty or in the entryway 
while I checked the mailbox. It turned out to be a fairly easy 
task, and I learned more about the other girls in the building 
in that one week than I had in the twelve years I had been 
living there. I got the names of everyone in the 
building...except one. Room 8 was still unaccounted for. And I 
knew exactly who lived in it. Nadia Santos. She seemed to 
carefully avoid all contact with the other residents of the 
building. I didn't need to talk to her, really. Clearly the 
FBI already knew she was there. But I had become too curious 
and involved in this assignment to let it go at that. I wanted 
to see her...talk to her...find out if she was really the 
person Mulder believed she was.

It was on Wednesday night that I finally saw my chance. I went 
downstairs to get the mail and found several bundles of 
letters heaped on the floor haphazardly. I sighed as I began 
searching through the piles for the bundles addressed to me or 
the girls. I found mine and Lauren's stacks fairly easily, but 
Sydney's was more difficult. I finally uncovered it and 
started back toward the apartment. I was halfway up the first 
set of stairs when I realized that the stack felt thicker than 
it should have and looked down to find that I had accidentally 
grabbed someone else's mail in my haste. I started back down 
the stairs and froze when I spotted the name on the envelopes. 
It was Nadia's. I carefully slipped the top letter from her 
stack, adding it to mine before returning the rest of her mail 
to the entry floor, hoping that no one would notice.

On Thursday, I returned late from turning tricks and sat in 
the empty stairwell long past the time I knew Lauren and 
Sydney and probably every other resident in the building was 
asleep. I was almost starting to nod off myself when I heard 
the front door to the Dauphine building buzz, followed by the 
click of high heels against the wooden floor. She didn't even 
glance in my direction as she passed the stairwell, likely not 
expecting anyone to be roaming the building at this hour. I 
drew the letter from my pocket and stepped out into the 
hallway behind her. She was standing in front of her door, 
slipping her key into the lock, when I approached. 

"Nadia," I asked tentatively.

She whirled around, startled, her eyes wide, her mouth open 
but her voice seemingly muted by fear. I held out my hands and 
tried to make my posture as non-threatening as I could. "It's 
okay...I don't want to hurt you."

She found her voice suddenly and began babbling at me in 
rapid-fire Spanish. I took Spanish in high school and I'd had 
a Mexican cellmate in prison, but I struggled to understand 
what she was saying. I recognized the word for "police" 
though. 

"Yo soy no policía," I said awkwardly, no doubt butchering the 
words badly. "Yo habito aqui."

That made her hesitate. Her eyes roved up and down my body 
suspiciously and she said something that sounded a lot like a 
French word for "whore".

I nodded. "Sí." I held out the letter and racked my brain for 
the words I wanted to say. "Yo deseaba...de lo 
volver...*devolver*-"

"I speak English," she said in a heavily accented voice and I 
breathed a sigh of relief. At least Mulder was wrong about 
that part.

"I got some of your mail by mistake. I just wanted to return 
it to you."

She squinted at me, making no move to take the letter I held 
out to her. "Why didn't you just put it in my mailbox?"

"Because I wanted to meet you," I said honestly. "You're the 
only person in this building that I've never really seen."

"I don't like socializing," she hissed, snatching the letter 
from my hand and turning to unlock her door.

"Nadia, wait," I pleaded, reaching out to lay a tentative hand 
on her shoulder. 

I yelped as she whirled around and snatched my hand, twisting 
my arm away from her with a firm grip on my wrist. Her hold 
loosened almost instantly and a startled look crossed her 
face. She hadn't used that much pressure.

"My wrist," I hissed, wincing. "I think I pulled a muscle." 
'Giving that last John a handjob,' I added silently.

Her eyes registered understanding and a bit of sympathy and 
she let go. I rubbed my wrist gently. 

"You really do work for Sloane," she said, cocking her head at 
me curiously. I nodded and she hesitated a while longer before 
going back to unlocking her door. "Come in," she said over her 
shoulder. "I'll see if I have something for your wrist."

*******

Talking to Nadia proved to be easy once I got past her initial 
wariness. Within a half an hour we were chatting comfortably 
over cups of weak coffee. She was almost like a slightly 
younger, more bitter version of Sydney.

"I didn't realize Sloane employed men as well."

"I'm the only one now," I said. "Seems the female-slash-gay-
male population willing to pay money for sex isn't as big as 
you'd think. Not around here anyway. Although I still get up 
to a half a dozen tricks a night." 

She nodded thoughtfully and sipped at her coffee cup, her nose 
wrinkling slightly at the bitter taste of the cheap grounds 
bought on a prostitute's salary. 

"So why do you avoid the others," I asked gently.

Her eyes dropped to her lap. "I told you, I don't like to 
socialize."

"Not talking to people is one thing. Leaving and coming home 
hours after everyone else so you can avoid coming into contact 
with them seems pretty extreme."

"I'm a very private person, Michael..."

"Please, call me Vaughn," I interrupted. 

She smiled shyly. "Vaughn. I'm used to being alone. I'm 
uncomfortable socializing with people."

"Does this have anything to do with Sloane," I asked bluntly. 

Her dark, expressive eyes widened slightly and she stared at 
me in confusion. "Why would Sloane have anything to do with 
it?"

I flustered. "I don't know, it just...seems strange. You're 
one of the few girls here who wasn't born in this country. I 
thought maybe you were hiding from somebody."

She laughed. "You have quite an imagination, Vaughn. What, did 
you think I was a fugitive? That Sloane offered to hide me 
from my government if I agreed to be his prostitute?"

I felt myself blush. "Yeah, something like that."

She shook her head, her amused chuckles dying off. Her eyes 
became distant as she seemed to prepare herself for what she 
was about to say. "My parents died when I was a teenager. It 
was a car accident. I was staying with my aunt."

"I'm so sorry," I said softly. 

Nadia waved her hand dismissively. 'Let me finish,' her eyes 
pleaded. "My father was a cruel man. Not to me - he hardly 
ever talked to me. He never held me when I was little, never 
played with me, and he was so distant..." Her eyes misted as 
she became wrapped up in her memories. "But my mother...he 
would come home late at least once a week, smelling like smoke 
and cheap liquor and he would yell at her, usually about 
nothing important. He would accuse her of cheating on him. He 
would say that I wasn't even his daughter - that I was just 
some bastard child my mother used to trick my father into 
marrying her. He never hit her in front of me, but I saw the 
bruises. I heard her crying...begging him to just listen." 

A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly. 
"The witnesses said he was yelling at her the night of the 
accident. They were parked on the curb. He was yelling at 
her...grabbing her by the hair...shoving her in the car. He 
had just pulled away from the curb when a drunk driver hit 
them from behind...pushed their car into a busy intersection. 
They were dead by the time the ambulance arrived."

She fell silent, staring deep into her coffee mug. I placed my 
hand gently on her arm, not knowing what to say after such a 
revelation.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she said with an 
ironic huff of a laugh. 

"Because you needed to tell somebody," I said softly. She 
looked up at me, her eyes filled with wonder. "What happened 
then," I prompted gently.

She sighed. "I lived with my aunt for a while. She was a nice 
woman but she had my father's temper. I left when I was 
eighteen and moved to Mexico with my boyfriend...Cesar." Her 
jaw tightened slightly. "We fought all the time. I never 
thought anything of it until the night he hit me. I swore I 
was not going to end up like my mother, so I left him and 
bribed some college boy to take me with him to Los Angeles. I 
gave him what little money I had and a blowjob. I had nothing 
left when I got here. I started whoring myself for cash to buy 
food. That's how Sloane found me." She smiled. "Sloane has 
been a better father to me than Juan ever was."

I bit my lip. Her story sounded disturbingly familiar, in a 
broad sense. Sloane had a knack for finding recruits who were 
desperate and would latch onto the first person to show them 
kindness. I realized suddenly how lucky I had been. I had 
lived in a loving - if odd and crude - family. No matter how 
cold and uncaring some of my past relationships had been, they 
had never tried to intentionally hurt me. This woman had seen 
the ugliest side of human relationships. Kindness was rare in 
her world, love a completely foreign concept.

I uncurled her hand from her mug, wrapping it between my own 
hands. "Not all men are like your father, Nadia," I said 
quietly. "And not all women are like your aunt. You don't have 
to hide from the world. Sloane is not the only person you can 
trust."

She stared at me for several long moments, the ticking of the 
wall clock behind her sounding like thunder in the silence of 
the room. Then she slipped from her chair and into my lap, her 
eyes locked with mine to judge my reaction. I brushed her hair 
back away from her face and tilted my chin toward her as she 
leaned in to kiss me, her lips barely brushing mine, unsure. I 
cupped her face in my hands gently and deepened the kiss, 
carefully prodding her tongue with mine. 

Within minutes she was leading me down the hall to her 
bedroom, stripping off her clothes and falling onto her 
sagging but comfortable mattress. I followed and lay beside 
her, hovering over her, fully clothed. This was not about sex 
and whether or not I found pleasure was certainly not a 
concern. It was about showing her the love, kindness and 
pleasure that had been largely absent from her life.

She writhed as I stroked her bare skin and combed her fingers 
through my hair as my lips followed. For a long time the only 
sounds in the room were the creaking of her mattress, the rasp 
of skin, the soft, wet sound of kisses. She was clearly not a 
vocal woman, but then she must have known I would see through 
any false signs of pleasure. I paid attention to the subtle 
changes in her breathing - every tiny hitch, every whispered 
sigh - using it to guide my actions. She panted softly and 
squirmed as she reached the height of her pleasure. She came 
with a tiny, almost inaudible cry, her muscles clenching 
around my fingers, trying to draw me in deeper.

"Vaughn," she breathed as she came down from her plateau, 
shifting restlessly on the bed in a half-hearted attempt to 
escape my fingers still manipulating her sensitive skin, 
easing her down from her orgasm. The taut skin over her 
abdomen quivered beneath my lips. I gave her one last kiss 
before drawing away, rolling onto my back and staring at the 
dull white ceiling. I was only mildly surprised when she 
followed me, her tongue flicking my ear seductively and her 
hand pressing warmly against my abdomen, deftly slipping 
beneath my waistband. 

I grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her movements. Her eyes 
met mine and she smiled slightly in understanding, drawing her 
hand back and resting it, unmoving, on my chest. She curled 
into my side without another word and I drifted to sleep 
sometime later to the sound of her deep breaths.
 
********

I awoke the next morning to the sound of somebody banging 
urgently on the door. Nadia was already halfway out of bed, 
pulling on her robe hastily as she hurried to answer. 

"Yes," she asked sleepily after she opened the door.

"Nadia," a familiar voice drifted from the hallway. "Sorry to 
disturb you, but it appears Michael Vaughn didn't come home 
last night and his roommates don't know where he is. I was 
hoping you might have seen him..."

"Mr. Sloane," I asked, walking over to stand behind Nadia. I 
watched the shock register in his eyes as he took in my 
rumpled clothing and disheveled hair. 

"What are you doing here, Mr. Vaughn," he asked calmly.

"I got some of Nadia's mail by mistake," I answered just as 
coolly. "I came here to return it and we got to talking...I 
guess time kind of got away from us." 

Sloane looked from me to Nadia, who studiously avoided his 
gaze. "Come with me," he said, gesturing to me.

I stepped out from behind Nadia reluctantly, feeling like a 
man being led to his death, and shot her a reassuring look, 
grazing her arm with my fingers on my way past. Sloane's jaw 
seemed to tighten at this and he grabbed me by the arm, 
wordlessly pulling me in the direction of his office.

"What do you think you're doing," he asked when he had shut 
the door, closing us in his office.

"We were just talking..."

"Nadia has made it clear she does not wish to speak to anyone. 
Why are you harassing her?"

"I'm not harassing her. I was returning her mail."

"I doubt simply returning a letter would require you to stay 
the night."

"Arvin..."

I gasped as his palm struck my face with enough force to snap 
my head to one side, cutting off whatever words I might have 
said. "I know I made a promise to you, but Nadia is family to 
me just as much as you and I will not stand back and let you 
cause her harm."

I wondered if taking her away from him constituted "harm" in 
his mind. "Arvin, I swear to you that is not my intention."

He squinted at me unnervingly. "Did you sleep with her?"

"Yes, but I didn't fuck her. We just slept." 'Mostly,' I 
thought. 

He glared at me suspiciously. "Why?"

I tried to put on an indignant face but inside I was flailing, 
hoping he wouldn't see through my behavior and figure out my 
underlying intentions. "It was late. We were tired. She had 
just told me about her parents and her abusive boyfriend. She 
was upset. I didn't want to leave her alone."

Sloane's expression faltered slightly. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine. She just needed someone to talk to."

I saw a flash of something like hurt in his eyes. Like he was 
hurt that Nadia had betrayed him by opening up to me instead 
of him. I decided to use the opportunity to stroke his ego.

I stepped closer to him, just short of touching him. "You 
can't protect us from everything, Mr. Sloane," I whispered. 
"Nadia is a grown woman and she's smarter than you give her 
credit for. She can make her own decisions - talk to whoever 
she wants, sleep with whoever she wants. You just have to 
trust her to know what is best for her."

He stared at me in silence for several long, unnerving 
seconds. I flinched instinctively as he raised his hand to my 
face again but relaxed when he just laid his palm gently on my 
cheek. He kissed me gently, almost chastely. 

"You are wise beyond your years Michael," he said softly. "I 
am sorry I doubted your intentions."

I tried not to give away how relieved I felt. He didn't 
suspect anything. Now I just needed to see how far he was 
willing to trust me. I leaned in to kiss him again, throwing 
as much passion into it as I could stomach. I wrapped my arms 
loosely around his neck and panted hotly in his ear as he took 
the cue and began sucking at my neck. I felt him smile against 
my skin and knew he understood. I had spent the night with 
Nadia but claimed nothing had happened between us. I let him 
believe I had been left sexually frustrated - both reassuring 
him of my pure intentions with Nadia and stroking his ego - 
giving him the illusion of power over me. 

I was bent over his desk within minutes, my pants around my 
knees, his cock plunging deep inside me. I moaned and bucked, 
using all of my skills as a hustler to convince him that I was 
enjoying every minute of it. I used the opportunity to study 
the computer from the corner of my eye, making a mental note 
of the make and model. I pulled myself further over the desk 
on one particularly forceful thrust, glancing down at the 
drawers. There wasn't a lock on them. I closed my eyes, 
thanking my lucky stars I wouldn't have to try to steal the 
key from Sloane if the FBI wanted me to poke around in there 
later. I grunted when Sloane hit my prostate inadvertently, 
feeling my cock stir in spite of my disgust. 

I closed my eyes tightly and pretended it was Mulder behind me 
and the hard surface beneath me was the kitchen counter in the 
safe house instead of Sloane's imposing wooden desk. I came 
within minutes, biting my lip to keep from calling out 
Mulder's name, feeling Sloane shudder to a stop. He pulled out 
of me and disposed of the condom before cleaning me, himself 
and the desk splattered with my come. 

I stood and turned to face him, adjusting my clothes. "Thank 
you," I whispered.

He squeezed my shoulder silently and stood back as I headed 
for the door.

*********

I sat stiffly in the passenger seat of the bright red 
convertible as a John reached one hand across the console to 
rub my inner thigh suggestively, licking his lips and leering 
at me in a way that made me want to throw up. He was obviously 
one of those guys who couldn't get a date because he had a 
tendency to frighten people off - either because he was a 
pervert or a psychotic killer, I couldn't decide which was 
more likely. I had just spent the last half an hour giving him 
a lap dance at the Horizon and he had not let me touch him 
once the whole time, although his hands had been all over me. 
After the lap dance he had watched while I masturbated, 
groaning softly between whispered directions to go slower, 
spread my legs or fuck myself with my fingers. As far as I 
knew, he had never come but he seemed to be satisfied and now 
he was driving me back to the corner.

"I'll be seeing you," he vowed as I got out of the car, his 
lilting British accent dripping with promise. Why did all the 
perverts have to be British?

"I don't think I've ever felt quite as dirty as I do now," I 
muttered as I rejoined the girls. 

Lauren patted me on the back sympathetically. 

"Sorry about that," Nadia said sincerely. "I think he used to 
be one of my regulars."

I had been surprised when Nadia had joined the girls and I at 
our corner that night. The girls had been apprehensive at 
first but had quickly warmed up to her, welcoming her like an 
old friend they hadn't heard from in ages.

"He once took pictures of me," she continued. "Playing with my 
breasts, mostly. Some of me masturbating."

"Yeah, it's definitely the same guy," I grumbled, accepting 
Nadia's proffered cigarette and taking a long drag. 

Lauren ripped it from my hands before I was finished and 
handed it back to Nadia. "He's trying to quit."

I glared at her but didn't get a chance to comment before a 
white pick-up screeched up to the curb and Sydney climbed out. 
"I think that guy just proposed to me," she grumbled as he 
peeled off down the road. "I'm not entirely sure, though. I 
think he was on about seven different drugs." She tried to 
take Lauren's cigarette from her and Lauren batted her hand 
away. She turned to look at Nadia pleadingly but Nadia just 
shook her head.

"She threatened to kill me if I let you have it," Nadia said 
apologetically. 

Sydney groaned and leaned against me. 

I massaged her shoulders lightly. "You want to sit down?"

"No, I'm fine," she said stubbornly.

A silver station wagon pulled up to the curb, a familiar face 
nodding at me from behind the wheel. 

"I've got this one," I said, pulling away from Sydney hastily 
and forcing myself to walk casually over to the car.

"Get in," Agent Doggett said simply as I leaned in the open 
passenger window. "Pretend you don't know me."

I straightened and signaled to the girls before climbing into 
the car. 

"I got the names of all the girls," I said as he pulled the 
car onto the street and started in the direction of the hotel. 

"Good," he replied, his attention fixed to the road, his eyes 
darting to the rearview and side mirrors periodically. "Was 
that Ms. Santos with you?"

"Yeah. You guys were wrong about her. She walked into this 
with her eyes open."

John nodded. "Okay. We'll brief you at the hotel. How about 
Sloane? He seem suspicious?"

I frowned. "No. Who's 'we'?"

John didn't answer and remained silent for the rest of the 
drive. By the time we reached the hotel, I was a nervous mess. 
If he was taking me to meet Mulder, he would tell me, wouldn't 
he? Or was he worried I would look too eager to our followers 
if he did? Was I going to be meeting somebody else entirely? 
How many agents were involved in this?

I shot John a questioning look as he guided me toward room 1, 
wondering if he knew it was one of the rooms that was joined 
to another by a connecting door. It seemed an odd choice for a 
clandestine meeting. 

I stepped into the room and froze. Sitting on the edge of the 
bed, surrounded by pieces of paper and file folders, was 
Mulder. He stood and smiled warmly at me, holding his arms out 
invitingly. "Hey baby."

The click of John shutting the door behind me spurred me into 
action and I rushed to Mulder, taking his face in my hands and 
kissing him with the enthusiasm of a man reunited with a long 
lost love. 

He chuckled when I broke the kiss to bury my face in his neck, 
inhaling the scent of his cologne and hugging him tightly. "I 
take it you missed me," he observed dryly.

The light grew dim in the room as John pulled the shades. 
"Holler if you need me," he said as he opened the connecting 
door to room 2. 

"Thanks John," Mulder murmured. John nodded and disappeared 
into the adjoining room. The sound of a television coming to 
life drifted through the wall shortly after that. 

Mulder gently detangled my arms and nudged me toward a section 
of the mattress not covered in paperwork. I sat reluctantly. 
"Are you okay," he asked gently.

I knew what he was really asking. "Sloane apologized to me."

Mulder hesitated, his jaw clenching slightly as he 
straightened a pile of papers and shoved them in a worn 
briefcase. "He doesn't suspect anything?"

"No," I said softly. 

He nodded tightly. He didn't ask anything further about my 
contact with Sloane. I had a feeling he didn't want to know. 

I pulled the folded pieces of notebook paper with my diagrams 
and all the other information I had collected from my shoe. "I 
got the names of all the girls, where they live and some other 
information I thought might help." I indicated another sheet 
of paper. "And this is Sloane's office. He keeps everything on 
his computer or in his desk, which he keeps unlocked. I wrote 
down everything I could remember about the computer. I hope 
it's enough..." 

He took the papers from me and smiled. "This is great. How 
long did this take you?"

"A few days."

He laughed. "It would have taken us weeks."

"You were wrong about Nadia," I blurted.

He cocked his head questioningly as he put my sketches in one 
of the folders in front of him. 

"She's not a slave. She knew exactly what she was getting into 
and her understanding of English is perfect."

Mulder frowned. "So why does Sloane keep her hidden?"

"He doesn't. Nadia has a history of abuse. She doesn't trust 
people, especially men."

Understanding flashed in Mulder's eyes. "Self preservation. 
She avoids relationships to protect herself from what she 
assumes is their inevitable dissolution." He sighed. "Okay, 
well, that's just one charge removed from Sloane's rap sheet. 
There's plenty more that we can get him on."

"What will happen to her...once you catch Sloane," I asked 
cautiously. "Will you just send her back to Mexico or 
Argentina?"

"We'll do what we can, but yeah, it's possible that we'll have 
to." He reached for my hands, squeezing them gently. "You're 
doing the right thing, Vaughn. Sloane must be stopped."

"I feel like a traitor," I muttered. "Those girls are all 
going to hate me once Sloane is gone and they're kicked out 
onto the street."

"They'll understand. Eventually."

I sighed. I knew he was right. This was what Danny had fought 
for years ago. Now it was my turn. I slid closer to Mulder on 
the bed and brought my lips close to his, until I could feel 
his breath on my face. "How much time do we have," I asked 
breathily. 

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders but made no move to 
kiss me. "We don't have to do anything, Vaughn. I don't want 
you to feel like you have to..."

I pressed my lips to his, cutting him off. "I want to," I 
murmured into his mouth. "I missed you. And I don't know when 
I'll see you again. I just know I want you to fuck me...I want 
your cock so deep inside me that I'll be able to feel it for 
days...weeks."

Mulder blindly swept the stray sheets of paper into one of the 
folders and dropped the files onto the floor. He had the 
covers striped from the bed and me sprawled naked across the 
mattress in less than a minute. 

I moaned as he fucked me with long, deep strokes, kissing me 
until I was breathless. I clung to him, feeling like I would 
levitate right off the bed if I didn't.

I came with a soft wail, my body arching up into his, barely 
aware of his soothing voice whispering nonsense in my ear, 
easing me back down.

When it was over he lay on his side next to me, pressing 
against me, entwining his hand in mine and kissing each 
knuckle one at a time.

"What do you need me to do now," I asked softly.

"We need to take a look at what you gave us, do a little 
poking around, cross-referencing. We'll contact you when we 
know the next step. Do you still have the phone Doggett gave 
you?"

I nodded.

"Good. If you need anything, if you even suspect Sloane or 
anyone else is onto you, you call me. The deeper we get into 
this the more dangerous it could become. If anything goes 
wrong we'll pull you out immediately. It's not worth risking 
your life over this."

I nodded again dumbly and closed my eyes, leaning into him as 
he kissed me, throwing as much passion and desire into it as I 
could, not knowing when I might see him again.

*******
(Ten years ago)

I combed my finger through Danny's hair idly, feeling 
wonderfully sated and happy, the smell of sweat and sex 
lingering in the hot summer air. His head was a welcome weight 
on my stomach. 

I swatted at his hand as he swirled his finger through the 
sweat pooling in my navel. "Stop that, it tickles."

"I know," he teased, pointedly continuing the action until I 
was squirming, fighting to hold back a fit of giggles.

"Stop!"

He responded by sitting up and attacking me, tickling 
mercilessly until I dissolved into helpless laughter. He 
stopped then and crawled further up the bed, laying half on 
top of me. 

He smiled down at me lovingly. "You've no idea how gorgeous 
you are when you laugh, do you," he asked, his soft British 
lilt dipping into a register that never failed to make my cock 
stir with interest. 

I groaned. "Come on, haven't you had enough yet?"

He chuckled. "I can never get enough of you, love."

"Hmmm, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak, it would 
seem," I murmured, pointedly rolling my hips to press my sated 
length against his.

He moaned. "Just give me a few minutes."

I laughed. "You've already made me come twice in the last 
hour. Are you going for a record or are you just trying to 
kill me?"

He smirked. "That wouldn't be such a bad way to go, now would 
it? Death by orgasm...wonder if they would put that on the 
tombstone?"

I swatted his shoulder playfully. "Stop it."

He rolled onto his side next to me and simply stared at me, 
stroking my hair reverently, as if he were trying to commit my 
face to memory. "I love you."

"I love you too," I whispered, smiling. I curled my hand 
behind his neck and dragged him down for a kiss.

"One of these days I'm going to get you out of here," he 
vowed, his tone suddenly serious. "I'll take you somewhere far 
away and find a descent job and you'll never have to hustle 
again."

I snorted. "I think all the blood hasn't made its way back to 
your brain yet."

He didn't laugh. "I'm serious, Michael."

I sighed. "Okay, I'll make a deal with you. You prove me wrong 
and I will go wherever you want to go and become a kept man."

He grinned. "That's the spirit, love."

A few days later, I stood in a cold morgue, surrounded by 
unforgiving steel, watching as the coroner removed the sheet 
from the face of a body with a toe tag that identified him as 
"John Doe". Tears sprang instantly to my eyes as Danny's face 
was revealed. He looked peaceful, almost like he was merely 
asleep. If not for the ragged wound that slashed his neck from 
one ear to the other I would have expected him to open his 
eyes and tease me for sobbing like a bloody baby.

Gentle hands turned me from the grisly sight, pressing me 
against a strong body. Sloane. He cupped the back of my neck, 
bringing my head down onto his shoulder and holding me as I 
broke down. He confirmed for the ME, in a soft, somber tone, 
that it was, indeed, Daniel Hect's body. Then he practically 
carried me to the door, out into the stark white hallway where 
I collapsed onto the nearest trash receptacle and threw up.

"Oh god no...no...this can't be happening..."

"I'm so sorry, Michael," Sloane murmured, his hand covering 
mine in silent support.

I choked and coughed and spit into the trash can between 
hysterical sobs. Sloane produced a handkerchief for me and 
guided me to his car when I had calmed down enough to follow 
his directions. I spent the night curled up on his couch, my 
head in his lap, falling asleep with the feel of his hand 
petting my hair soothingly.

******

I knelt in front of Danny's grave, brushing aside leaves, 
grass and flower petals that had blown from surrounding 
gravesites. Sloane brought me to visit his grave once a year, 
right around the anniversary of his death. He used to stand by 
my side, offering support, but as the years progressed he 
began staying in the car, letting me have some time alone. I 
looked around to make sure no one could hear me, even though I 
knew the cemetery was deserted except for myself and Sloane 
and he was in his car several yards away.

"I'm going to be a father," I began, my voice disrupting the 
surrounding silence, almost startling to my own ears. I 
laughed quietly, ironically. "I bet you never would have seen 
that coming. Sydney is going to have my baby." 

I shook my head and closed my eyes, growing quiet, listening 
to the sound of the wind blowing through the trees. When I had 
first visited Danny's grave alone like this I had sworn I 
could almost hear Danny's voice whispering to me on that wind, 
telling me he loved me. That I could let him go and live my 
life. I could still feel his presence surrounding me.

"The FBI approached me," I murmured. "A man named Mulder...he 
told me what you did. What you tried to do. I understand now. 
You died trying to save me - save *us*. I'm sorry I didn't see 
it sooner. I'm sorry I blamed you for taking too many risks... 
getting yourself killed by a John." I felt tears well in my 
eyes and blinked them away rapidly. "I know you wanted to 
protect me from this, but I'm too deep now. I'm going to 
finish what you started. And I promise I will make Sloane pay 
for what he did to you - to us. He won't get away with it." I 
sniffled and wiped my eyes, taking a deep breath and looking 
up at the car waiting for me. "I'm sorry. I know I promised I 
wouldn't cry. I miss you." 

I sighed. "You'd be happy to know that I'm finally moving on. 
Agent Mulder has been doing his damndest to win me over and I 
think he might be succeeding." I laughed softly. "You would 
have liked him, I think." I grew silent for several 
heartbeats, taking comfort in the reverence of the silent 
graveyard. "He's promised to take me away from here. Help me 
start over. I know that's what you would have wanted, so...I 
guess this is goodbye since I don't know when or if I'll ever 
come back." I kissed my fingers and brushed them against the 
plaque, next to the black letters spelling out his name, 
swallowing against the lump growing in my throat. "Wish me 
luck," I said. "I love you."

Sloane was staring out into the distance when I approached the 
car, almost meditating. He jumped when I opened the car door 
and climbed in. He reached over the moment I was settled and 
rubbed my shoulder in a way I used to think of as friendly. 
"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," I said with a smile, trying not to flinch. 

He looked past me, out at Danny's grave, and something flashed 
in his eyes - something that looked an awful lot like regret. 
For the first time since Mulder had revealed the truth to me I 
wondered if there was more to the story. 

******

"Sloane answers to some pretty powerful people," Agent Doggett 
explained a few days later. "It's possible he was pressured to 
kill Mr. Hect." 

I rocked back and forth in his lap in the driver's seat of the 
blue Saturn. Both of us were fully clothed and I was careful 
to avoid any actual contact below the belt. This was all just 
for show - to fool the man following us in the black sedan. 
Once I had identified the car following me it had been easy to 
spot. He was always nearby, parked across the street, 
following a couple of cars behind a John's. We couldn't afford 
to let him think my meeting with Agent Doggett was anything 
other than business as usual.

"I don't care what his orders were," I growled. "He had my 
lover killed. I can never forgive him for that."

"I'm not sayin' he's innocent," John said gently. "I'm sayin' 
you have to look at the big picture. Sloane's just a cog in 
the machine. He's expendable. This ain't about you gettin' 
revenge for Danny. This's about taking down a national crime 
ring."

"I know," I sighed. "The Alliance." Twelve major US crime 
rings, including weapons traders, drug dealers and likely 
members of the Mafia, all working together through myriad 
contacts to form one large, seemingly impenetrable 
organization.

John grabbed me by the chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. "Can 
we trust you to do this?"

I nodded and threw my head back, closing my eyes as he kissed 
my throat. He latched down on my neck suddenly, sucking 
strongly, forcing blood to the surface. I whimpered. "What do 
you need me to do?"

"There's a bug under your seat," he murmured, his lips almost 
touching my ear. "We need you to get it close to Sloane's 
computer. Attach it to the CPU tower if you can - somewhere it 
can't be seen. It's got an adhesive on the back."

"What will it do?"

"It'll let us hack into his computer remotely. Then you need 
to drop this somewhere in his office - on or near his desk if 
possible." He slipped a paper clip into my hand. "It's a 
listening device. Voice activated."

I gaped at him. "Are you kidding me?"

"Developed by the CIA. Technically it's on loan."

He threw his head back suddenly and stilled, mouth open, 
obviously faking an orgasm. I took his cue and slowed my 
movements to a stop, pausing for a moment before climbing from 
his lap and returning to the passenger's seat. I reached 
underneath and found a small disk taped to the underside of 
the cushion. I removed it and shoved both it and the paper 
clip deep into my pocket.

John started the engine and pulled back onto the road. "Once 
you're done, use the phone I gave you to call Mulder."

"What about the files in his desk?"

"Too risky. He might have cameras in his office. You'll have 
to be very careful. Don't do anything too suspicious."

I nodded, ignoring the butterflies rattling around in my 
stomach. 'I can do this,' I thought. 'It's basically just more 
acting. Mulder said it himself - Sloane trusts me. I can use 
that to my advantage. I just have to make sure I don't give 
him a reason to stop trusting me.'

The black sedan stopped a block from our corner as John 
dropped me off. I pretended not to notice it. Then I froze as 
John drove off, an idea coming to me suddenly. What if I could 
turn the tables on the spy?

I turned and walked deliberately toward the car, watching the 
driver's face grow wary as I approached. He was young - 
possibly younger than me - with unremarkable features and a 
military short haircut.

I knocked on the passenger window and waited while he rolled 
it down a crack. 

"See something you like," I asked seductively, leaning down to 
look him in the eyes.

He flustered. "Excuse me?"

"I keep seeing you hanging around here. Are you waiting for 
something or are you just shy?"

"No...I'm not..."

I squinted at him. "You're not a cop, are you?"

He shifted nervously. "No."

"Then what? Are you just stalking me?"

He didn't reply, seemingly debating whether or not he should 
just roll up the window and drive off. Cut his losses. 

I glared at him. "Sark sent you, didn't he? Tell that fucker I 
haven't seen Will in over a week and if he's so damn 
interested in who I fuck he can just ask me next time."

I slapped the top of the car and stalked away indignantly, 
trying to ignore the shaking in my knees. I hoped to God I had 
just done the right thing.

"What was that about," Sydney asked when I returned to the 
corner.

"Stalker," I said simply. "I took care of it." I glanced in 
the direction of the sedan and breathed a sigh of relief when 
I saw the driver turn on his headlights and slowly drive away.

*******

"So, I understand you scared away a stalker," Nadia said as 
she perched on the couch next to me, nursing a glass of red 
wine fresh from the box. She handed me my own glass as she 
took a dainty sip. Sydney and Lauren had invited Nadia to 
dinner and she had agreed on one condition: she got to bring 
dinner. It turned out she was almost as good a cook as Sydney.

"Sark," I grumbled. "Bastard thinks he owns me."

Lauren handed Sydney her glass, half full only, where she sat 
in the chair across from us and sat on the other side of the 
couch, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under my 
leg. I pulled them up into my lap and massaged them absently. 
"Figures," she snorted. "You finally get rid of one nutter and 
an even crazier one comes along."

I winced inwardly. I couldn't tell them that I had never 
actually "gotten rid of" Will without risking everything 
including, possibly, all of our lives. So I had let them 
believe Will had gone back to Virginia alone. "The worst part 
is, I actually kinda miss Will," I said cautiously. "How 
pathetic is that? I'm surrounded by three beautiful women - 
practically living a Playboy fantasy - and I'm pining after a 
guy I only knew a couple weeks who paid me to have sex with 
him."

"Maybe it wasn't Will you were drawn to," Sydney offered. 
"Maybe part of you wished you could just abandon this life and 
run off to live with some wealthy man in Virginia."

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, Dr. Bristow. How much do I owe 
you for that analysis?"

She stuck her tongue out at me indignantly. 

"No, maybe she's right," Nadia said. "I mean, who here 
wouldn't jump at the chance to leave this business?"

Her question was met with silence as the girls likely pondered 
what their lives would be like if we were all given the 
opportunity to quit. I had the advantage of knowing not only 
what I could do, but when it would happen.

Lauren swatted my hand away, which had been drifting further 
and further up her leg almost of it's own volition. "Don't 
even think about it. You are not getting me pregnant too."

I snatched my hand away obediently. The girls had always kept 
very careful monitor of their menstrual cycles, but Lauren had 
become even more diligent since Sydney had found out she was 
pregnant. "I wasn't going to do anything," I protested.

"Sure. You were just trying to cop a feel, right?" Lauren 
snorted. "You would hump anything with legs. We should have 
had you neutered years ago." She snatched my wine glass from 
me suddenly, laying it on the rickety coffee table along with 
her own. Then she abruptly unzipped my jeans and drew my cock 
out into the open, stroking me firmly.

"Lauren," I squeaked, startled by her bold behavior. I wanted 
to remind her that we had company, but somehow I didn't think 
it would make much of an impression. I wondered vaguely if 
this was simply her way of marking her territory.

I came within minutes - Lauren is nothing if not an expert at 
what she does - my groan of pleasure muffled by her mouth. I 
lay panting as she tucked me back into my jeans and handed me 
my wine glass again.

Nadia's eyes darted from me to Lauren to Sydney, unsure. 

Lauren took a swig of her wine and smiled broadly at Nadia. 
"Don't worry, love. We're very open around here. Would you 
like to stay for a nightcap?"

*******

'Definitely a Playboy fantasy,' I thought as I sat in a chair 
beside the bed later that night, watching all three women 
groan and writhe together on the bed. Nadia had her head 
between Sydney's thighs, her tongue poking obscenely through a 
latex mouthguard, alternately flicking and massaging Sydney's 
swollen clit. Sydney moaned into Lauren's mouth, her hand 
moving clumsily and frantically between the blonde's thighs. 
She cried out when Lauren abandoned the kiss suddenly, her 
thigh muscles trembling as she fought not to buck against 
Nadia's face.

"Are you just going to sit there," Lauren asked, shooting me a 
smoldering look over her shoulder.

"You seem to be doing fine without me," I said even though my 
cock definitely seemed interested.

Lauren smirked and groaned as Sydney's hand made a 
particularly forceful move between her legs. "I think Nadia 
could use a little incentive," she gasped, rocking against 
Sydney.

I stood up and moved to the end of the bed before I even 
registered the motion. Clearly my dick had a mind of its own 
and was currently overriding my brain. Lauren reached into the 
bedside table drawer absently for a condom and tossed it at me 
without looking. I caught it and put it on quickly, kneeling 
on the bed behind Nadia. 

I gently coaxed her legs further apart and she rolled her hips 
back, fully opening her dripping channel to me. I pressed two 
fingers inside her and thrust gently, searching for her G-
spot. I found it almost immediately. Nadia moaned, her 
attentions to Sydney faltering and then growing increasingly 
frantic.

"He's good, isn't he," Lauren gasped, combing her fingers 
through Nadia's hair. Nadia responded by plunging two fingers 
inside Sydney, pumping frantically. Sydney moaned, her own 
attentions to Lauren faltering. 

Nadia wiggled her hips impatiently and I took the hint, 
plunging my cock inside her without any further preparation. 
She groaned and Sydney cried out, arching her back as the 
sound sent vibrations through her. Nadia repeated the sound 
until Sydney began to shake. She screamed into Lauren's mouth 
as her orgasm tore through her, her hips making aborted 
thrusting motions, her hand emerging from Lauren's body to 
grip the blonde's leg as she thrashed, anchoring her to 
reality.

Lauren spread kisses all over her face as she came back down 
but I didn't really get a chance to watch them before Nadia 
pulled herself away from me, flopping on the bed beside the 
recovering Sydney and beckoning me. I crawled over her and 
plunged back inside her welcoming body, grunting as she 
wrapped her legs high around my waist, allowing me even 
deeper.

Lauren tore her lips from Sydney long enough to hiss "You'd 
better not come," at me.

I groaned and rolled my hips steadily, my eyes drifting closed 
at the feel of Nadia's tongue flicking playfully at my 
earlobe. "Yes, mistress."

I yelped as Lauren swatted me on the backside suddenly, my 
hips snapping forward, forcing a groan from Nadia. Lauren 
didn't like it when I pointed out her bossiness. "Sorry," I 
hissed.

I drew Nadia's legs up over my shoulders and adjusted the 
angle of my thrusts until I knew I had to be hitting her G-
spot. She gasped, her eyes growing hazy and distant as she 
neared orgasm. I reached down and thumbed her clit roughly, 
nudging her closer. 

It took only about another minute of thrusting to send her 
flying over the edge, a tiny moan of pleasure spilling from 
her lips. I clenched my jaw as her muscles spasmed tightly 
around my cock, drawing me deeper, encouraging me to join in 
her pleasure. I resisted, knowing Lauren would kill me if I 
came now before she was finished. I knew I could have just 
come and used my hands or my mouth to finish her off, but 
clearly that was not what she had in mind.

I kissed Nadia as she floated back down to earth, stroking her 
hair back from her face. She smiled up at me dazedly. The 
moment was interrupted by Lauren shoving at me insistently 
until I rolled off of Nadia. Nadia took the cue and dragged 
herself to the other side of the bed to join Sydney.

I hissed as Lauren shoved me onto my back roughly and pulled 
off the old condom, replacing it with a new one and plunging 
herself onto me in seconds flat. She braced her palms on my 
chest and began rocking, hard. I raised my knees and snapped 
my hips upward, trying to meet her thrusts as best I could, 
wondering vaguely if the violence of our movements would leave 
bruises or just make us sore in the morning. Not that it 
mattered either way since we all had the next day off.

I found myself thinking back to the science classes I had 
taken years ago, trying to remember which species of the 
animal kingdom it was wherein the females would kill the males 
after mating with them. I seemed to recall there was more than 
one. Whatever they were I imagined I could identify with the 
males in that moment, looking up into Lauren's hungry, 
predatory gaze. "Don't come until I tell you to," she hissed 
in my ear.

It took several long minutes before she came, rocking back and 
forth and moaning deep in her chest. I was holding my breath 
by that point, straining to not come until she gave me 
permission. She smirked down at me as she shuddered through 
the last of her orgasm, stroking my sweaty forehead and 
kissing it softly before lifting off of me suddenly and 
slithering down my body, taking my aching cock in her mouth. I 
took this as the permission I needed and bit my lip to muffle 
the cry I couldn't hold in as I came, pumping down Lauren's 
welcoming throat. 

When it was over I lay limp on the bed, whimpering as Lauren 
removed the condom and inspected it carefully. "Huh," she 
murmured almost to herself. "Looks like this one held." She 
shrugged and tossed it into the wastebasket, crawling back up 
the bed and draping herself over my sated body. 

I turned my head wearily to find Sydney and Nadia curled on 
the other side of the bed, their limbs tangled together. Nadia 
smiled at me and curled closer to Sydney's already sleeping 
form. I sighed and stroked Lauren's back when the feeling 
returned to my fingers. 

"Looks like she's fitting in well," Lauren murmured softly. 

I smiled and kissed her hair. "Mmm-hmm," I hummed before 
closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep.

*******

I took a deep breath as I approached Sloane's office the next 
day. He had called up to our room and requested that I come 
talk to him face to face. Usually when he called the room like 
that it resulted in more of me bending over his desk than 
doing any actual talking, but I had jumped at the opportunity 
to plant the bugs John had given me. I had gone over how I 
planned to do it many times in my mind, but I was nervous as 
hell. What if he caught me? What if he suspected I was on to 
him?

'Just relax,' I reminded myself. 'You can do this.'

I opened the door and slipped inside. "You wanted to see me?"

He looked up from the paperwork on his desk calmly. "Michael, 
yes." He laid down his pen and leaned back in his chair. "I 
heard you've been having problems with a stalker?"

I marveled at his bravado. He had hired the guy to stalk me 
and he had the nerve to confront me for scaring him off? He 
*had* hired the guy, right? I hesitated. What if Sloane didn't 
know anything about the guy tailing me? What if another member 
of the Alliance was having me followed? It made sense, didn't 
it? If Sloane trusted me and the Alliance didn't, they could 
send somebody to keep an eye on me without telling him. 
Couldn't they?

I decided to hedge my bets and tell him the same story I told 
the girls. "One of my regulars has been spying on me. He's 
obsessed with me and he has way too much money and free time. 
I caught the guy he sent to watch me and told him to buzz 
off."

Sloane nodded thoughtfully, his face seeming to show genuine 
worry. "Do you need help taking care of him?"

I held back a shudder. I just wanted Sark to quit stalking me, 
I didn't want him thrown into the nearest river wearing 
nothing but a pair of cement shoes. "No. I can handle him."

"Are you sure," he asked, something that looked like genuine 
concern flitting over his face.

I smiled kindly and stepped closer. "Yeah, I'm fine." I walked 
around his desk and sat perched on the heavy oak. I glanced 
down at the papers he had left on the desk, seeing only a 
bunch of numbers and decimals. Balancing his checkbook, I 
supposed. "But you could have asked me that over the phone, 
Arvin," I continued. "So what is it you really wanted me to 
come down here for?"

"Actually, that was all," he said coolly, cupping my cheek. "I 
just wanted to see for myself that you were all right."

I faltered slightly. Part of me wanted to believe that. That 
he truly did care about me. I mentally shook myself. No. This 
man had ordered the death of my lover and best friend. Whether 
or not he had made the decision under pressure from the 
Alliance didn't matter. He was still a murderer. And if the 
Alliance found out I was helping the FBI he would probably 
have me killed too.

I reached out to press my hand against the slight bulge in his 
slacks, feeling it grow beneath my palm. "I could take care of 
this for you," I offered.

Within minutes I was unrolling a condom over him with my 
mouth. I stood and quickly removed my pants, deliberately 
dropping them close to the computer tower under the desk. I 
laid back on the desk, spreading my legs and drawing my knees 
toward my chest. He fingered my hole, desire building in his 
eyes. "You prepared yourself for this," he observed.

"You asked me to come down here on my day off with no 
explanation. What was I supposed to think?"

He shook his head but said nothing further. He plunged into me 
without any preparation and I fought to hold back a whimper. 
While I had prepared myself earlier, I hadn't spent as much 
time loosening the muscles as I would normally. I clung to him 
as he fucked me, his movements slower than usual, his thrusts 
long and deep. I let my head loll from one side to the other, 
my eyes searching his desk for something I could use. As luck 
would have it, I found a paper clip wedged, forgotten 
underneath the computer monitor. I moaned and shifted 
restlessly, letting my fingers slip under the monitor, 
surreptitiously brushing the paper clip to the floor behind 
the desk. 

I relaxed when he didn't seem to notice the action. There was 
nothing more I could do until he was finished. I closed my 
eyes and tried to imagine I was anywhere else but underneath 
Arvin Sloane. I prayed that the bugs John gave me wouldn't be 
active until I called Mulder. I didn't think I could face him 
again if I knew he had heard this.

Sloane came with a grunt. I nuzzled and kissed his neck, 
moaning and clenching around him to convince him I was 
enjoying it. He lingered inside me, kissing me and stroking 
whatever parts of me he could reach. I couldn't hold back a 
shiver of disgust. I hoped he would interpret it as something 
else.

"Are you cold," he asked softly.

I mentally sighed in relief. "A little."

He pulled out of me and I reached for my pants while he 
readjusted his clothing. I glanced at the CPU tower as I 
fished the bugs out of my pocket, trying to determine the best 
place to hide one. There was a gap in the plastic casing on 
the front of the unit, toward the bottom. I couldn't see any 
reason for it to be there other than aesthetic purposes. I 
quickly peeled off the backing on the tiny disk and slipped it 
into the narrow space, curling my fingers outward and sticking 
the bug to the outer flap of opaque plastic. I tried to make 
the movements as quick and nonchalant as possible, using my 
body to block Sloane's view. It all happened in a few seconds. 

I pulled my pants on. 'One down, one to go,' I thought 
nervously. I cradled the second bug in my suddenly sweaty palm 
and bent to retrieve the paper clip I had dropped on the 
floor, subtly switching the two in my hand.

"I assume this is yours," I said, holding the bug out to him 
between two fingers.

Sloane looked baffled for a moment, taken off guard. 

"I think I knocked it off your desk," I added.

"Ah, yes. Thank you," he said quickly, taking the bug from me 
and placing it in the top drawer of the desk, alongside 
several pens, pencils and other paper clips.

"I think I'm going to go for a run."

"Of course. I heard you were trying to quit smoking."

I ground my teeth together. It unnerved me that he could so 
easily get information on any of us. All he had to do was ask, 
probably. Most of the girls trusted him - they would likely 
tell him whatever he wanted to know if he asked nicely. 
"Yeah."

He smiled and rubbed my shoulder supportively. "Good for you."

"Thanks," I mumbled. I made my way to the door without another 
word, ending our encounter as awkwardly as usual.

I ran upstairs and grabbed the phone John had given me from a 
cabinet behind a bunch of towels where I had hidden it. The 
girls were out running errands, but I couldn't risk making the 
call from inside the building anyway. I stuffed the phone in 
my pocket and ran back down the stairs and out the front door. 

I jogged several blocks, making turns down random alleys to 
make sure I wasn't being followed. When I had reassured myself 
I was safe I pulled the phone out and hit speed dial one.

"Mulder."

"It's me. I planted the bugs."

"Both of them already? That's great, Vaughn! Are you sure 
you've never done spy work before?"

I rolled my eyes. "If I had I wouldn't have lived this long."

"Do you think Sloane suspects anything?"

"No." I looked down at the slightly dusty paper clip still 
clutched in my palm and threw it on the ground. "He took the 
paper clip from me himself. He had no idea it was bugged."

I could almost hear Mulder smile. "Great. We're activating 
them right now. Good work."

I hesitated. "So...they weren't picking up anything before, 
right?"

I could picture him frowning in confusion. "No, why?"

"It's nothing," I replied quickly. "I was just wondering."

There was a long pause and he sighed. "No, Vaughn. They didn't 
record anything. Whatever you had to do to get the bugs in 
there...nobody has to know."

"I fucked him," I blurted. I didn't know why but I felt a 
sudden need to tell him everything. "Actually, I let him fuck 
me. That's how I got the information on the computer too."

He was quiet for several moments. "I know."

"Are you alone?"

"Yeah. I just stepped into the bathroom."

"I miss you," I murmured. 

He sighed again. "I miss you too, baby. Just hang on a little 
longer. We're getting close now, thanks to you. It'll be over 
before you know it."

I closed my eyes and leaned against the cool brick wall of the 
nearby building, wishing I could feel his arms around me, 
protecting me from the chilled air...protecting me from my own 
demons and insecurities. "Promise me."

He seemed to pick up on my meaning immediately. "Everything 
will be okay. We'll get you out of there, I promise."

I love you.

The words flashed through my mind, but I still couldn't quite 
say them. The last man I had said them to had died. Even 
though I was stronger now than I was then I didn't think I 
could handle letting myself fall in love again. Part of me 
still wondered if he really loved me or if he just saw me as a 
project. A fallen man for him to rescue. Once he took me away 
from this life and got me back on my feet, how long would it 
take him to grow bored of me? To become disillusioned? A year? 
A couple months? I didn't think I could handle having my heart 
broken again.

"Are you still there," he asked gently.

I took a deep breath. "Yeah. I'm here."

"If anything happens - if you even suspect Sloane or any 
member of the Alliance is onto you - you know what to do, 
right?"

"Yeah, I remember." Mulder had told me repeatedly that if 
anything went wrong I was to get myself to the safehouse and 
use one of the two numbers programmed into my phone. They 
would tell me what to do from there.

"Okay. I'm going to hang up the phone now, all right?"

I bit back the urge to beg him to stay on the line. Keep 
talking...keep reassuring me. But I knew I couldn't stay away 
for long. I couldn't afford to let Sloane get suspicious. 
"Okay."

"I love you."

I hesitated. "Yeah," I said in a tiny voice. 

I hung up and stuffed the phone into my shoe before resuming 
my jog, heading back in the direction of the Dauphine 
building. 

********

Some kinks don't require props, giving certain Johns a 
loophole. 'Like this one,' I thought, clutching the covers to 
my chest as the muscular John slipped into bed beside me. I 
didn't usually mind role play, but this guy made me especially 
uncomfortable. I tried to compensate for my unease by throwing 
myself into the role, hoping I looked appropriately meek and 
vulnerable.

"Don't be shy," he said with an amused grin. "I promise I 
won't hurt you."

'Sure you won't,' I thought. I remained still, letting him 
draw the covers from my reluctantly loosening grip, gradually 
exposing my naked body to his hungry gaze. "I know you won't, 
Daddy," I said in a small voice.

His hand smoothed across my chest and down my stomach, coming 
to rest wrapped loosely around my limp cock. "Do you love me?"

"Of course I do, Daddy."

I jumped as he pushed an exploratory finger inside me. He 
frowned when it slid in easily. "Were you playing with Mommy's 
vibrator again?"

Yuck. I hesitated a moment. Then, taking my cue from the word 
"again", I nodded shyly, avoiding his gaze. 

He smiled. "You're a naughty boy," he said in a tone that made 
me want to throw up.

"Please, Daddy, I was just..."

He pressed his fingers to my lips, cutting off my words. "I'm 
not going to punish you, Mikey. But you can't tell Mommy 
because she'd be really mad."

I faked an expression of relief and squirmed as he continued 
to fuck me with his finger.

I cried out when his latex covered cock plunged into me 
minutes later. "Please, Daddy. You're hurting me."

He slapped me with enough force to snap my head to one side. 
"Shut up you stupid whore," he snarled.

Well, at least I knew he drew the line somewhere. I whimpered. 
"I'm sorry, Daddy."

He melted back into character and cupped my cheek gently. 
"It's okay, Mikey. Daddy's here. I won't let anybody hurt 
you."

'Anybody else, you mean,' I thought as he began to rock, 
fucking me steadily.

I moaned and whimpered as he fucked me for a good ten minutes. 
I gave a soft cry when he came, squeezing my muscles as 
tightly as I could around his cock. My own cock remained 
utterly limp throughout the whole ordeal.

"You're sick," I spit once it was over while he disposed of 
the condom.

His meaty hand wrapped around my throat. "Shut the fuck up or 
I'll make you shut up you stupid bitch."

I stared at him defiantly. I refused to let this sick bastard 
scare me.

He stood and threw my pants at me. I instinctively felt the 
right pocket to make sure my money was still there. "Find your 
own way home," he growled when he finished getting dressed. He 
stormed out of the hotel room and slammed the door.

I sighed and got dressed, cleaning myself up a bit before 
heading outside to find a pay phone. Normally, I would have 
walked back to the corner, but the hotel this John had chosen 
was considerably farther away than the Horizon. 

I dumped a quarter into the pay phone and dialed a number from 
memory. "Francie, it's Vaughn. I know it's late, but could you 
give me a lift?"

*********

"Are you okay," she asked before I was even completely in the 
car.

"I'm fine. The last guy just left me stranded here."

Francie shook her head. "I know this is not exactly a normal 
date, but what happened to common decency, anyway?"

"Well, he might be a child molester, so he can't exactly speak 
for the rest of humanity."

Francie looked horrified. "Shouldn't we tell someone?"

"And say what? 'I think this guy who just paid me to have sex 
with him might be into underage boys,'" I asked rhetorically. 
"He never told me his name and I'd be willing to bet that the 
car wasn't his so I doubt any information I gave the police 
would be useful. Besides, it's possible he's never actually 
touched a child. He kept calling me Mikey. Maybe he gets off 
on having prostitutes *pretend* to be underage."

"Or he just happens to be molesting a kid named Michael," she 
argued as she navigated through a maze of streets. "Besides, I 
watch 'CSI'. Guys like that are bound to escalate. Even if he 
hasn't touched a kid yet, he will."

I smirked at her. "Has anybody ever told you you watch too 
much TV?"

She squinted at me. "Don't change the subject."

I sighed. "I know. My gut tells me there was something off 
about him, but I honestly don't think there's anything I can 
do."

"Tell you what," she said, fishing in her purse with one hand. 
She handed me a pad of paper and a pen. "You write down his 
license plate number and as many physical characteristics as 
you can remember. I'll call in an anonymous tip and say I 
overheard him talking about sleeping with little boys. Or 
something. I'll think of something later. Just write."

I jotted down as much as I could recall and glanced at her 
again. "That guy I talked to you about before...the one who 
was asking about me? Did he tell you he was a fed?"

She looked startled. "He told you?"

"Yeah. Not long after I talked to you."

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she said sincerely. "He told me not to 
tell you. He said it was a matter of life and death." She 
hesitated. "Is it?"

"Sort of," I sighed. "I don't think I can tell you any more. 
The less you know, the better."

"Certainly sounds like life and death to me," she muttered. 
"You're not in trouble, are you," she asked suspiciously.

I laughed. "No. There's just...something I have to do for him. 
Something that could get me and Sydney and Lauren out of the 
prostitution business."

She beamed. "That's great!"

"But you can't tell them," I added hurriedly. "They can't know 
what I'm doing yet. It's safer if they don't know."

Francie pulled up to the curb across the street from the 
corner. "I trust your judgment. And if you think this will get 
you guys off the streets..." She shook her head. "Okay, I 
promise I won't say anything."

I pulled her into a hug. "Thank you," I murmured in her ear.

"But you have to promise me that you won't do anything too 
dangerous," she added, pulling back to look me in the eye. "I 
don't want to see your face in the papers and find out you've 
gone missing or were found dead in a hotel room somewhere."

I smiled. "I promise."

"Okay." She patted my cheek lovingly. "See you later, 
sweetie."

I squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek. "Love you, Francie."

********

The next John was much easier to handle. He was clearly of the 
egotistical narcissist variety. His hair was slicked with so 
much mousse it was practically dripping down his neck and his 
teeth were perfectly straight and glaringly white. He was good 
looking and he knew it. He drove as far as the alley around 
the corner and had me get out of the car and place my hands on 
the roof as if he were a cop and I was a petty thief. It 
seemed to suit his ego well.

I moaned when he plunged his hand inside my pants, testing the 
waters as it were. I could sense his smirk without having to 
turn my head. "Easy, sweetheart," he laughed. "We've got 
plenty of time."

I rolled my eyes. He thought he was fucking Don Juan. Out to 
show the world what a fantastic lover he was. He licked and 
bit at my neck. "I assume you brought protection?"

I froze. "Didn't you?"

He smirked and produced a condom packet. "Ribbed for extra 
pleasure. Not that I need the help."

I groaned. Great. Now I really had to pretend to enjoy it. He 
took the sound to mean I was getting impatient to have his 
likely pencil sized dick in me and quickly yanked both of our 
pants down to our knees, fumbling to put the condom on.

I moaned loudly when he thrust into me, letting my head roll 
back on my shoulders. Yep. Definitely pencil sized.

He held my hips steady and set an agonizingly slow pace, his 
in-stroke far too rough. It probably would have been painful, 
were it not so late on a busy night. By that point, my lower 
rectum was practically numb. I wondered if the girls had gone 
home yet or if they were waiting for me.

"Fuck, that's good," I muttered absently as I began 
entertaining myself by counting the bricks on the wall of the 
building on the other side of the car.

I could practically feel his chest puff up with pride. "You 
like that?"

'Like what?' I thought. 'Your sexual repertoire so far has 
consisted entirely of inserting tab A into slot B and 
thrusting.' 

"Yeah," I murmured. "That's good."

I switched from counting bricks to daydreaming about this guy 
developing some sort of rare disease that would make his dick 
shrivel up and fall off. Possibly overly cruel, yes, but it 
made me smile.

"Hang on, baby," he purred before he began slamming into me 
with enough force to make my teeth rattle. I winced but arched 
my back into him, making loud noises of pleasure.

It seemed to take forever for him to come. I groaned and 
writhed in fake pleasure as he erupted and grew soft.

"That was amazing," I lied, moaning as he pulled his limp cock 
from me and dealt with the used condom.

He didn't say anything, but the look on his face clearly said 
"I know."

*******

Sydney was leaning in the passenger window of a gold station 
wagon when I returned to the corner, Lauren watching her from 
the usual post, absently flicking ashes from her cigarette.

"You've been busy tonight," Lauren observed.

"That was my seventh," I muttered. "My ass is getting numb."

She rubbed my back supportively and watched as Sydney 
approached us, the gold car remaining idle at the curb. "She 
wants you," she said, cocking her hip and fiddling with her 
hair - a habit she had developed in lieu of smoking.

"She," I asked wearily.

Sydney nodded with a small smirk. "Looks like you're popular 
tonight."

I groaned. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Good luck," Lauren called as I made my way over to the car. I 
waved my hand at her without turning my head.

I leaned in the window to find a dark haired woman with 
bright, soulful eyes. "Get in," she said.

I slid in the car and she began to drive.

"Would you like directions to a hotel," I asked tentatively.

"Nope," she replied. "I know where it is." She held out her 
hand to me. "I'm Agent Reyes."

I shook her hand with a nod. It wasn't all that surprising, 
honestly. I didn't have very many female customers, much less 
ones as direct and sure as this woman. "What happened to 
John?"

"We don't want the Alliance to get suspicious, so we figured 
varying your contacts would be a good idea."

I nodded again. "So what do you need me to do?"

She smiled. "I'll let Agent Mulder tell you. He's waiting at 
the hotel."

I tried not to look too eager, but after a night of getting my 
ass pounded and my hair pulled practically clean out of my 
skull, I was looking forward to Mulder's gentle touch.

*****

I let Agent Reyes enter the room first, tamping down my 
anxiousness in case anyone was watching.

I practically threw myself into his arms before she had even 
shut the door completely.

"Thank you, Monica," he murmured and I heard the connecting 
room door open and close softly.

"You picked a horrible day," I muttered, burying my face in 
his neck.

He rubbed my back. "I know. Reyes drove around the block for 
hours waiting for you but other guys kept beating her to you." 
He nudged me away gently, forcing me to look him in the eyes. 
"But like I said before, this doesn't have to be about sex. 
I'll give you money to appease Sloane but you shouldn't feel 
any obligations. We don't have to do anything you don't want 
to."

I hesitated. "I want you," I admitted. "But I'm really sore 
and the parts of me that aren't throbbing went numb about two 
tricks ago."

He winced in sympathy and thumbed some stray eyeliner from my 
cheek. "Would you like me to give you a massage?"

I smiled. "That sounds nice."

*******

I moaned as Mulder dug the heels of his hands into my lower 
back. "Fuck, that feels good," I said honestly (for the first 
time that night), my voice slurring in contentment as I melted 
into the lumpy mattress. 

"Good," he murmured. "Take off your pants."

My eyes sprang open. "I thought we weren't..."

He kissed me into silence, as well as he could from his 
position. "We're not." 

He helped me remove my pants and resettle, face down, naked on 
the bed. I grunted when he began massaging the sore muscles of 
my ass and down the backs of my thighs. So this was going to 
be a full body massage. I sighed and moaned in pleasure.

He got up suddenly and disappeared into the bathroom. I heard 
water running and he reappeared moments later. I felt him part 
my cheeks and wipe the remnants of lubricant from me.

"No, don't," I protested. "I still have to..."

He kissed me again. "No, you don't. No more tricks tonight. I 
have enough money to cover you for three more Johns. Go home, 
take a shower and rest."

I sighed. "I'm sure the FBI is thrilled with the amount of 
money you keep giving me."

He chuckled. "Anything to get the job done is fine by them 
basically. Besides, they'll get it back once the Alliance is 
destroyed. Roll over."

I rolled onto my back languidly and groaned as he resumed the 
massage, starting at my shoulders and working his way down my 
arms. "What do you need me to do?"

"We need the passcode Sloane uses to access the main server 
that controls all the business transactions of the Alliance. 
Our cryptographers are working on it but we know it's ten 
characters long and it could have numbers, letters or a 
combination of the two so we're looking at millions of 
possibilities. It could take us months or years to crack it. 
We were hoping you could help."

I thought for a minute while he massaged my hands one at a 
time. "You think he could have told me?"

"It's possible he did and you didn't realize it. We can give 
you a device that would disable any security cameras or bugs 
in his office and you could search the place, see if he wrote 
it down somewhere..."

I shook my head. "Sloane hardly ever writes down stuff like 
that. Besides, this password is important, right? Something he 
would never let anyone else find? He wouldn't leave it written 
anywhere in his office. He would make it something he could 
easily remember." I wracked my memory for anything Sloane 
could find significant enough to create a password out of it. 
I came up blank. "Ten letters," I asked with a frown.

He moved down to begin working on my legs, digging into the 
knotted muscles on the insides of my thighs. "Or numbers," he 
repeated.

I tried to recall every conversation I'd ever had with him, 
every significant fact he might have told me about his life. 
His ex-wife Emily? No, five letters short. Maybe her maiden 
name? Her middle name? A pet name? 

Suddenly a long-forgotten memory came tumbling back to me. 
"Jacqueline."

He paused the massage, his hands stilling on my left calf. 
"What?"

"He once told me he'd had a daughter, but she died at birth. 
His wife never quite got over her grief. It's probably the 
reason they split up. He told me he still thinks about her all 
the time - what she would have been like. She would be my 
age." I paused. "Her name was Jacqueline."

Mulder smiled and resumed the massage, slowly working his way 
down to my feet. "That's great, baby. We'll try it. If it 
doesn't work out, we'll go to plan B."

"What's that," I asked curiously.

He winked at me. "We'll kidnap him and torture it out of him."

I smiled. "You wouldn't dare."

He sighed. "No. Unfortunately, that would only compromise the 
operation right now." He finished with the massage and crawled 
up the bed to lay beside me, his fingers smoothing over my 
chest. "But the second we take down the Alliance I will 
personally take care of all the questioning." 

I could almost see him threatening to break Sloane's fingers 
one by one if he didn't tell the FBI everything they needed to 
know. It almost made me smile. "Good."

*******