By Char Chaffin
char@chaffin.com
 

MSR, R, third person POV
No Spoilers
Disclaimer:  Clones on Loan

Note:  It all started when I teased Mims about her OOD sources and
got her all blue... and of course I had to redeem myself in my
Mimsy's eyes, right?  So I figured a story would make her feel
better, and I asked her to set the parameters.  She wanted someone to
watch M&S making love and feel all envious... and she wanted detailed
MulderDescription.  Well, this is what I came up with.  Mims, hope
this does it for you!
 

Summary:  "I shouldn't have done it..."
 

"Chance Encounter"
 

Near Pensacola
Late spring

I shouldn't have done it.  It was wrong of me.  And I never, never
do anything like this.  Up until this point in my life I haven't felt
the compulsion.  Not until that day, a few weeks ago.

I've lived here all of my life.  It's a nice place, and I love being
this close to the Gulf.  The beaches are pretty and the sand is
whiter, the surf is cleaner.  It gets crowded in the spring and then
again in the fall, but I don't mind.

I love walking the beach in the evening when the sky is red and the
wind is blowing, surf pounding.  I dawdle as I walk, searching for
sand dollars and starfish; finding crabs trying to burrow back into
the cool, wet sand.  I take off my shoes and I walk aimlessly,
thinking of nothing in particular, just enjoying the start of
twilight.

Sometimes tourists will wander this far up the shore, away from the
hotels and condos that are grouped in close to the main beach.  Where
I usually walk it's private, but we get the occasional strays.  It's
all right with me and my family, as long as they don't dump garbage
in the sand or dig up the beach.  Most of the time those vacationers
who walk this far away from the hotels are respectful.  If I
encounter any of them during my evening walks I always nod and smile
at them, say hello.

But that evening, a few weeks ago, I saw someone walking, and I
couldn't do anything except stare, and stare.

I'd just come over the rise of a small sand dune, had just kicked
off my sandals and was heading down to the lower beach for my usual
walk, when I saw him.  He was barefoot, feet shuffling in the foaming
surf, holding a pair of sneakers in one hand and socks in the other.
He'd rolled up the legs of his jeans and unbuttoned the short-sleeved
shirt he was wearing.  He wasn't looking my way, instead gazing out
to the sunset on the horizon, and I stopped dead in my tracks, and
simply stared.

I'd never seen a more beautiful man in my life, and let me tell you,
I have seen plenty of beautiful men.  They're all over the beaches
around here, any given time of the year.  Hard-bodies, musclemen,
weightlifters, strength trainers.  Young, middle-aged, tall, short.
They're everywhere.  I'm used to seeing them, walking along in their
little stretchy trunks, showing off their bodies.  Wanting all the
women - and the men, too, in some cases - to stare at them, desire
them.  And I do stare; I'm a healthy young woman and I appreciate
the male form.  I feel desire for them, now and then.

But this man put them all to shame.  This man was perfect.

He never looked fully in my direction but I saw enough of his
profile to understand that his face was everything fine and noble in
a male face.  Thick, dark brown hair blew back from a strong
forehead. Against the setting sun his eyes squinted a little, but
even from a distance and in profile I could tell they were large and
compelling.  A prominent, well-formed nose.  A full, sensuous mouth.
Strong jaw line and chin. Darkly tanned throat rising out of a pale
yellow shirt.  Muscled arms, elegant hands.  Wide shoulders and a
narrow waist. Long legs encased in tight, faded denim.

Oh, my...

He didn't walk as much as meander, not paying attention to where he
was walking but instead depending on his feet to propel him along the
shoreline without tripping.  He seemed to be in deep thought.  I
watched him until he moved out of sight, heading around a curve in
the beach.  I watched him until there was nothing more to watch.  I
had no idea I'd been holding my breath all of that time, until he
disappeared from my view and I found myself sinking down on the side
of the dune, almost directly on a scuttling crab that had worked its
way up from the surf.  I blew out a heavy breath, in a total daze;
if that crab had pinched me I wouldn't have felt a thing.

It's said that love can hit you instantly.  Well, it's true, for in
that instant I fell, hard.  I didn't know his name, had yet to look
into his eyes.  I didn't know if he was married, straight, normal, on
drugs or fond of wearing women's underwear.  All I knew was the way
looking at him had made me feel.  Shaky.  Needful.  As if a thousand
butterflies had migrated into my stomach and beat themselves into a
frenzy to break free.

I had to find out who he was.  I had to see him again.

I spent the next day in a fog.  I couldn't eat.  Didn't want to talk
to anyone, which luckily worked out for me since I have an office
with a door and when it's shut my co-workers know to leave me alone.
I spent the day pretending to work on my spreadsheets but in reality
I was seeing him over and over again, walking that slow walk up the
beach, elegant, graceful, sexy as hell.  I drove home after work
fully intending to plant myself in the sand that evening, and wait
for him to pass by again.  I plotted various ways to approach him,
talk to him, smile at him.  Of course, as luck would have it, I
didn't see him anywhere along the beach. When I finally fell asleep
that night, overheated and over stimulated, I knew I'd dream of him.

*************

A week went by before I saw him again.

I'd gone down to the beach every evening, standing by the dune where
I'd first seen him, eyes trained in the direction of the hotels,
waiting for him to come walking my way.  I'd haunted different areas
of town at specific times of the morning and afternoon, looking for
him; I'd actually taken time away from work to do this.  It was a
wonder I didn't get fired.

Usually the hotel people come to town to shop and snack; there are
many fun little places and unusual cafes.  It's a charming area, even
beyond the obvious attraction of the lovely beaches.  So I took time
from work and went looking for him, but I never saw him.

I agonized over where he might be staying.  Was he a friend of
someone in town?  Was he a visitor who purely by accident had
wandered onto a private beach area and then simply left town, never
to repeat his evening stroll?   Would I finally, finally find the man
of my dreams, only to have him slip through my fingers before I could
even talk to him?  It seemed grossly unfair.

Yet I told myself that I knew nothing about him.  He could be so far
beyond my reach; impossible to connect with.  I stared at myself in
the mirror more than once at odd times of the day, wondering what
he'd see if he looked at me.  I have always considered myself a nice-
looking person and have done my best to project as attractive an
image as possible.  I'm slender, shapely, dark-haired, green-eyed.  I
have a decent sense of humor and I dress well.  I have a good smile
and white, even teeth.  Men like me, and I have never had a bit of
trouble holding the interest of the opposite sex.  I'm fairly
confident around strangers.  I just knew if I had a chance with this
man, I could make things happen between us.

All I needed was that chance.  So I waited and I waited, until I saw
him again.

It was early in the evening, still very warm out and promising to
continue that way all night.  The level of tourists in town had
seemingly doubled in just a few days and spring season was in full
swing.  I walked to the dune, sat down on a small patch of rough
pampas grass and waited.  I kept my fingers and toes crossed, hoping
against hope that I'd see him again.  I strained my eyes, searching
for him, looking down the beach toward the hotels, wanting to see a
tall, lone form walking alone, staring out to sea.

Thirty minutes later, when the sun was really starting to set all
blazing red and gold and I was about to give up, I saw him.  He'd
been on the beach all along, and I'd missed him... because I was
watching for him to walk along the shore, and all of the time he'd
been not twenty feet from me.  He was sitting on a blanket and again
staring out to sea, wearing a baseball cap on his head.  Maybe that
was why I'd missed him.  He'd just appeared to be any other wandering
tourist, sitting on the sand and enjoying the sunset.  Plus I'd been
so sure he'd be walking along, like that first evening.

I stared at him hungrily.  He wore a pair of trunks, brief and snug;
from that distance they appeared to be dark blue.  He was leaning
back on his hands, but from the angle where I sat I could see more of
his body than I had before.  Bare-chested, very tanned, his skin
looked smoother than satin.  A scattering of silky chest hair speared
down into the waistband of his low-slung trunks, and I spent a few
feverish minutes trying to imagine what the damp-looking material
might be hiding.  His long legs were stretched in front of him,
crossed at the ankle.  There was a small smile curving those full
lips as he gazed out at the surf.

Now was my chance.  I could walk up to him and talk to him.  I could
smile at him and ask his name, tell him mine.  I glanced down at
myself; I looked good in my pale pink shorts and matching tank top.
My hair was falling straight and full around my face and I felt like
anything could happen.  I felt confident, ready for a new phase of my
life to start.  I felt open and free.  This man was waiting for me, I
just knew it.

Then, as I stood on legs suddenly a bit shaky, and prepared to step
around the small dune, into his line of vision... his lips parted,
and he spoke.

But not to me.  He turned his head to the side; the side of him that
I couldn't see at this angle, and he spoke to someone that had
obviously been sitting next to him all along.  Somebody so
small that his body had completely hidden them from my view.  I
thought to myself, okay, he's got a child.  That's all right; I love
children...

"Have you ever seen a sunset like that, Scully?  Scully?  You awake?
Look out there, at the horizon; you're missing it!"

God, his voice... it sent shivers through me.  Low, raspy, sexy,
perfect.  At that moment I was jealous of anyone who was lucky enough
to have that voice directed at them even if it was a child.

"Scully?"

Frozen in the sand, still partially hidden by the dune, I watched as
a petite form sat up, on the other side of his reclining body.  It
looked like a young girl, thin and pale.  I saw short red hair
surrounding an oval face, a small nose and eyes that appeared sleepy.
When she scooted forward and smiled at him before turning her
attention to the sunset burning on the horizon, I saw a curve of very
adult bosom, covered in blue fabric; a one-piece swimsuit that clung
to her small frame.

Not a child, but a woman.  A small, thin woman... but a woman just
the same.  Maybe a sister?  Hope sprang eternal, as I stared at her.

"I'm awake.  Thanks a lot, by the way.  And yes, the sunset is
spectacular, Mulder.  Worth waking me up for... I think."

He had a name.  Mulder.  I didn't know if it was a first or a last
name, but it somehow suited him.  When he slipped an arm around her
shoulders, I clenched my hands into fists but remained fairly calm;
after all, it could still be a sister... maybe a cousin...

"I'd bet money that red out there is the same color as your hair.
It's times like this that I hate being somewhat color blind."

The woman tilted her head toward him and again I tensed, but relaxed
when she merely queried, "What exactly do you see, Mulder?  What
colors?"

He brought her closer and dropped a kiss on her hair, over her ear.
Okay, that's fine, I thought.  Brothers kiss their sisters like that;
cousins kiss, too...

Then that voice again, a little raspier.  "I see pink.  Some blue.
Orangey gold.  It's like I know there's red, but it's not vivid, the
way I'm sure a sunset like that should appear."  He gazed down at
her, and then kissed her again, on the cheek.  I heard him murmur,
"The way I know your hair looks, Scully.  Like a sunset, red and gold
and lovely."

"Oh, Mulder..." Her tone was soft and melting.

When a third kiss landed not on her cheek but on her mouth, I
groaned under my breath in defeat.  I was kidding myself, in the
worst possible way.  This man was taken.  Boy, was he ever.  I sank
down into the sand, a little behind the dune yet still able to see
them clearly.  I admitted to myself that I was low enough to spy on
them, on him - and see just how close of a relationship they shared.
Maybe they hadn't known each other very long.  Maybe they'd only been
on a few dates, and I still had a chance...

Then I realized that kiss on the mouth was still going strong.  I
couldn't look away.  I had to know, however vicariously, what this
man looked like when he kissed a woman; what the woman might be
experiencing as those full, lush lips probed hers.

His mouth moved on hers with a hunger I was sure I'd never myself
felt.  Oh, men had kissed me; I'd had a few serious relationships
behind me.  But I doubt any of my past lovers had kissed me with the
level of need and hunger that I sensed in this man.   His large,
elegant hands slipped up her back and held onto her narrow shoulders
as he deepened the kiss; as she kissed him back.  He pressed her down
onto the blanket beneath them and she went, fluidly, willingly.  God,
I thought, fanning myself furiously, who wouldn't have gone with him?
I'd have crawled over broken glass to maneuver myself under that half-
nude, smoothly muscled body.

She wound her arms around his neck and slipped a leg between his,
knocking off his cap as she ran her fingers through his hair. I heard
him groan, a thick rough gulp of sound against the steady swish of
the waning surf.  She slid her hands down over his body and clutched
his hips with tense fingers when he dropped into the cradle of her
thighs and pushed against her demandingly.  I tore my eyes away and
darted them up and down the beach, half expecting to see someone walk
by and stop to gawk at them.  And I had to laugh at myself when I
understood that I was the only gawking voyeur around.  Even knowing
that, accepting it, I could not look away.

Somehow her swimsuit top ended up bunched at her waist, though I
never saw either of them tugging at it, and his lips were on her bare
breast before I could think to avert my eyes.  Not that I could have
torn my regard from what was happening only mere yards away... for as
his mouth took her breast it was as if he was taking mine, as if
those lips were pulling at my nipple, tongue laving my skin.  I had
to fight to keep from moaning aloud.

At that moment I knew I'd sunk as low as it was possible for me to
sink.  Spying on two people who were so obviously in love... it was
one thing to covet what this lucky woman had but it was quite another
to hide behind a dune and watch her receive it.  I should have slunk
away before that first sweet kiss.  Now it was too late, for even
though the twilight was thickening along the beach, I could still see
them and chances were they'd be able to see me.  I had no choice but
to stay there and wait.

Well, that's what I told myself, as I lay hidden against the dune
and continued to watch them.

In the waning light their bodies moved on the blanket, as
passionately graceful as any choreographed dance.  A few layers of
clothes still remained but I knew they were very close to full-blown
intimacy.  Every thrust of his hips against hers, I swore I could feel
myself.  Each soft smack of kisses, of lips and tongues touching,
lapping, lingering on flesh no doubt salty from the sea spray... I
could almost taste.  The envy I felt pierced me as well as shamed me,
for I didn't know this man.  I knew nothing of the spiritual or the
intellectual, only the physical.  He was outward beauty personified
and I would have to assume that same beauty shone from within, too.

One other thing I knew, fully, completely... this Scully was the
luckiest woman on the face of the earth.

Minutes slipped by and I watched them loving each other; through the
almost-darkness I could pinpoint the moment their remaining clothes
were tossed aside and nothing lay between them except for perhaps a
sheen of sweat and some sand.  I heard her gasp and I saw the dark
blur of his body as it moved on hers, comprehending with absolute
certainty that he was now inside her and I was experiencing the most
profound jolt of covetous envy I'd ever known.  I told myself my
reaction and sudden feverish wanting was the by-product of too much
time between relationships, but of course I was lying.  It had
nothing to do with how long ago I'd last had sex.  Nothing at all.

It had, however, everything to do with this man called Mulder, and
the way his passion was making his woman sigh, moan, cry out.  It had
everything to do with that.

With superhuman effort I made myself roll away, down the other side
of the dune, the night around me finally dark enough that they'd
never see me.  Not that they'd even register anything other than
their own escalating passion... which was as it should be.  I'd done
enough damage to my conscience and to their privacy, though they
wouldn't know anyone had overheard them, or had purposely watched.

I hoped.

I lay at the bottom of that small dune, sand in my hair, down my
shorts.  I crawled away on hands and knees until I knew I was far
enough and hidden well enough by the darkness to stand and walk in
the other direction.   I chastised myself for every step I took
toward home, there in the hot dark with sand clinging to my tear-
streaked face.  I told myself not to mourn the loss of a man I'd
never had, but I couldn't help the way I felt... as if I'd lost 'The
One.'  Which was ridiculous, for all I'd ever know of him was his
name... and how utterly beautiful he was.  How fortunate his woman
was, to have him in her life and in her arms.  How lucky she was to
be the one who held his heart.

Oh, I'd know all of that, better believe it.  I walked home and
washed away the tears and the sand; slipped into my bed between cool
sheets, and dreamed of a dark-haired man named Mulder who could see
some but not all shades of red... and who kissed and made love like
an angel.

I think I smiled in my sleep, more than once.

End
 

End note:  Third-person POV is a challenge but a lot of fun to
write.  I'd highly recommend every writer trying it at least once!

Hope you enjoyed!  Love to hear from you; email me anytime!
char@chaffin.com

Please check out my website sometime!  http://char.chaffin.com