BIG TEN-INCH
(A sequel, of sorts - for "When Harriet Met Johnson")
By Char Chaffin
MSR, NC-17, touches of humor 
Spoilers:  nada
Disclaimers:  Clones on Loan

NOTE:  Yes, I had to do it.  A sequel.  Once I got to thinking about
it, I was lost, LOL!  Then I heard one of my fave Aerosmith songs on
the radio - "Big Ten-Inch" - and it was Kismet, I swear!

This story would definitely make more sense if you have read its two
prequels:

"The Foot-to-Johnson Ratio", and
"When Harriet Met Johnson"

Dedication:  To Tess, Carol, Shelba, Sallie, Piper and Mims, all the
darlins who read the first two fics and encouraged the heck outta me!
This is for you, my dears - thanks for always being there for me!

Summary:  Deja vu?  Yeah, something like that!


"Big Ten-Inch"


Another day, another walk down to the elevator and another ride up
to the closest bathroom... down the hall from the administrative
pool.  As I waited for the elevator doors to open I contemplated the
true injustice of having to work on the only floor without a single
toilet.  

There have been days when I barely made it to the bathroom; try
hanging on to your bladder when it's overloaded with coffee.  Those
damned early morning meetings could lull me to sleep like nothing
else; I usually drained an entire pot before heading up to the
conference room.  I'd make a stop on Floor Two and unload, thanking
my lucky stars I hadn't dribbled.  

Well, that's what I was doing, actually... unloading my liquid
before I had to show my face at yet another boring meeting.  I knew
Mulder was already there, having breezed by me and out the door, a
carefree little kiss dropped on my head and a raspy, "See ya in the
'Bored-room', baby", floating over my ears as I gulped down one last
cup and grimaced over the gritty aftertaste.   I cursed aloud the
unfairness of being unable to stay awake at these blasted meetings,
when Mulder always seemed to be bright-eyed as can be, regardless of
how late we'd been up, the night before.

And we'd been up VERY late, the night before...

I set my mug down and grinned to myself as I collected a notebook
and a pen, heading for the door and a stall with my name on it two
floors above.  I had just enough time to 'dump and go', as Mulder got
such a charge out of saying.  Two minutes, that's all I needed. 

The bathroom was empty and I picked the stall closest to the door,
was just getting myself settled... and the door opened.  And a herd
of tittering women clomped in -

Deja vu, anyone?  Suddenly I felt as if I'd been here, right here -
just a few days ago, in fact.  Three days, to be exact.  I sent a
silent groan heavenward as I recalled the conversational topic that
day: one Fox Mulder.  I'd found myself stuck in a stall, face flaming
and mind helplessly conjuring all sorts of wild images, as several
women stood clustered in front of the sinks and discussed the size of
my partner's penis.  Oh, and his feet, as well.  

Jesus, Mary and Joseph... that conversation was the beginning of the
most incredible afternoon and evening of my life.  In retrospect I
suppose I should have yanked up my undies, opened the door and
blasted them all for their unprofessional nonsense, but I was too
busy allowing that earful to soak into my brain.  And thank goodness
I did... for my inability to keep my mouth shut and my cheeks from
blushing ten shades of mauve - once I returned to the basement -
caught Mulder in exactly the right spot to probe.  And afforded me
enough verbal blubbering to reveal all.  

And was exactly what we needed to stumble over our last emotional
stumbling-block, and irrevocably alter the entire tenor of our
relationship.

I sat on the seat and as silently as I could, got myself re-hosed
and re-buttoned.  I thought, I'll just open the door and pop out,
give them all a vague smile, wash my hands and go.  I had a meeting
to attend and exactly two minutes to get there.  So far they'd all
been trying to talk at once, flushing tanks and running water,
nothing much, just typical women's room natter...

And then, just as my hand went for the latch... I heard it.

"Well, what did Barry say?  He's been AWOL for two days!  Come on,
Carol!  I saw you talking to him this morning.  What did he say about
our boy Agent Foxy?"

Oh, hell.  I sank back down on the seat and plopped my head in my
hands.  Here we go again...

Through the now-familiar buzzing in my ears, I heard Carol speaking.
"He went out of town with Lisa, some kind of family thing.  But he
did it, ladies... our Barry got the goods.  He checked out Mulder's
equipment - and I swear if he wasn't already engaged, he'd have asked
the Fox for a date.  Barry was impressed."

My gasp sounded loud to me, but it was overridden by the hoots,
exclamations and demands for information that four women immediately
roused, echoing off the walls of the bathroom.  They wanted to know
and Carol seemed more than happy to repeat Barry Cooper's findings.

"Well, Barry said..."

And as Carol recited her little report I found myself tuning it out,
for I already knew what Barry had seen in the men's room that day,
hadn't I?  It was what I'd seen when I got back down to the basement,
that same day.  What I'd felt in my trembling hands, what I'd held,
caressed, kissed... mouthed.  What I'd tasted, again and again.  What
had buried itself inside of me, deep inside of me, until every
thought in my head had flown out the window and I'd whimpered and
shook with the force of the need and the buildup of desire, aching
lust... overwhelming love that had soaked into me and changed my life.

Maybe Barry had seen, but I'd possessed.  I'd been given, and in
turn, gave.  Given Mulder's love, along with his tender kisses, his
strong and incredibly talented hands; his body, his soul.  In return
I'd given him everything I could never give another man; given him
all of my heart and every small bit of emotion I'd hoarded so
carefully, for more years than I cared to count.  And I was a far
different woman from the one that huddled in this very same bathroom
three days before, with a flaming face and the shakes forming deep
down in my gut. 

Well, my cheeks were still red, a little... but nothing would ever
be the same for me and I suddenly wanted to scream it aloud, from the
top of my lungs.  I wanted to fling open that door and blast those
women with what I'd learned about Agent Fox Mulder.  I wanted to tell
them what loving this man was like.  To see those hazel eyes glowing
down into mine; that lopsided smile of his and the way his head
tilted just a little to the left as he concentrated on me, on my
response, my reaction to the feel of his hands and the heat of his
body.  So generous with himself - I'd never had that before.  I'd had
a few selfish lovers and one that was rather indifferent to intimacy,
in general.

There was nothing indifferent about Mulder.

I wanted them to know; after all, they'd expressed what I considered
an extreme fascination with my partner; enough to send a bi-sexual
engaged man into the "trenches", so to speak, to peek over the top of
a urinal and count himself some inches.  These women didn't seem to
have anything overly exciting in their lives, otherwise they could
have found something other than Mulder's 'packaging' to concentrate
on.  I could relate, truly I could - but as I said, everything had
changed.  And it only took several years and two amazing days, for it
to happen...

It was all new and a little scary and a lot amazing.  Scary because
I was finally 'out there' with another person, letting him see those
places on my exterior that I felt were less than perfect; the hidden
things inside my head that I tried to keep under wraps.  

All the times I thought I might be in love, might want to open
myself up and let in that particular light... It was sophomoric
child's play compared to what erupted from me when Mulder first
thrust inside my body.  When I first let him in.  

When he filled me, filled all my emptiness, my ache.  To the top,
and beyond... not just by pressing his length deep inside me,
stretching me, brimming me - but filling me everywhere, in places I
never even knew were needing it.  In my mind, where I had once told
myself I wouldn't allow myself to love him in any way except that of
a friend.  In my heart, where I'd closed off some chambers but had
left the safer ones open and accepting of casual caring; he'd poured
himself into those locked places and taken me over, effortlessly.

I wanted them to know that here was so much more than a handsome
face and a lean and muscled body, more than outer perfection and
inner mystique.  Here was someone who accepted me, for only me and
not someone they thought I should be, if I were only willing to
unbend a little, change a little.  A man who told me often that he
was wild about me, couldn't live without me - and in three short days
had shown me more about loving than anyone had ever cared to do.  

Then again... maybe I would rather hoard it all to myself.  Maybe
I'd lock it up tightly and bring it out for me to review and relive,
later in the morning when my damned boring meeting was threatening to
overpower me with its utter boredom.  I'd sit there next to Mulder,
enough of a space between our chairs to lend itself to proper
professional decorum but close enough to feel his heat.  Close enough
to detect the faint scent of his shampoo combined with the shaving
lotion he wiped from his face just two hours ago, when I stood behind
him and pressed my bare breasts to his equally-bare back. My fingers
had teased at his nipples until he'd groaned and flung down his razor
and turned to face me and smeared the remains of his fragrant face
foam all over my naked breasts... 

Yes, I might think back on that.

I'm sure I'd gladly recall the way he'd flung me over his shoulder
in a sprawling fireman's hold, laughing all the way back to bed, with
me pummeling on him and he applying a few well-placed spanks on my
upturned bottom.  I'd remember that little bounce I suffered when he
tossed me into our twisted and mussed sheets, following me down,
twitching at my undies until he got them off and flipped them over a
lampshade.  Likewise the towel he'd wound about his waist had endured
the same fate, and I'd found myself engulfed in pure Fox Mulder. 
That mouth, on me; those hands, touching me all over; that body,
pressing over me, opening me, all those lovely inches probing me, 
inside me, loving me... endlessly loving me.

Somehow I doubted I'd learn a thing in that meeting, which was
happening in... good grief, two full minutes ago!  I hurriedly
crammed away the rest of my daydream, knowing I could drag it out at
any given moment and enjoy it anew.  And as I cleared those erotic
cobwebs from my fevered little brain, I heard the tail end of Carol's
Barry-monologue...

"... had to be at least seven inches, he said!"

Oh, Lord... I choked back one final gasp.  The unbidden image of
Barry Cooper brandishing a ruler in the men's room just about made me
lose it.  Poor Mulder, he never stood a chance... and lucky me,
because I knew something Barry Cooper could never know - and without
any damned ruler.  

Suddenly I decided those women had a right to know the truth, as
well.  After all, wasn't that the foundation of the partnership that
Mulder and I shared?  Truth was of utmost importance to us; we'd
based everything on it.  I owed it to them, owed them the truth as I
knew it.  I owed it to Carol, and to Donna, and in a very real way,
to Mulder himself.  I felt the mother of all grins wreath my face as
I opened the door, a smile I hastily forced under control. 

I stepped out of the stall and immediately four pairs of feminine
eyes swiveled my way; four mouths formed a silent "O" as four women
stood like stone and stared at me.  I calmly walked to the nearest
sink and aimed a carelessly vague smile in each of their directions. 
I washed my hands, dried them off and walked to the door in silence;
you could probably have heard a feather drop in there.  And just
before I opened the bathroom door and walked out, heading toward my
boring meeting that started two full - well, three full minutes
ago...  I turned to those silent women, and gave them a little update.

"Actually, ladies... it's not seven inches.  It's ten.  Ten
inches... and quite something to see.  You can trust me on this one."

I walked through the door and shut it gently; heard the
flabbergasted exploding babble of four women who were no doubt still
rooted to the spot.  And as I headed down the hall toward the
conference room - and Mulder - I whistled a little piece of a song I
suddenly remembered.  

Funny how I never much cared for Aerosmith, until that very moment...

End


Thanks for reading!  Hope you enjoyed - and do email me sometime, I
love hearing from you!  char@chaffin.com

Please visit my website!  http://char@chaffin.com