Summary: This is my attempt to explore what Reyes could have been thinking when she got involved with Brad Follmer. This story takes place between her arrival at the New York Field Office (after graduation from the FBI academy in 1995), and her first meeting with John Doggett in 1997.

Monica's hand jumped off of Brad's thigh, and grabbed her purse.
She looked up to see Joe's face peering in the window. She
couldn't help hyperventilating as she looked from Joe to Brad.
Brad sighed and leaned away from her. "Goodnight," he said,
relieved to have been rescued from himself.

"Goodnight," Monica answered, her lips pursed as if to prepare
for a kiss. "See you Monday."

As soon as Monica had closed the car door behind her, Brad took
off, forcing himself to focus his eyes ahead, and not in the
rearview mirror. But at the corner, he felt the irresistible
urge to turn around and catch one last look at her... at them.
Their silhouetted embrace seemed so intimate, so close. He
sighed. "What am I thinking?" he thought. He drove home with
that vision in his mind, resolved that after Monday morning's
meeting he would have her transferred to another division
permanently.

But once inside his apartment Brad couldn't help wondering what
it would be like to hug her... kiss her... He got undressed and
lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, seeing a pair of
dew-stained sherry eyes looking down on him. The more he tried
not to think about Monica, the more his thoughts went to
forbidden territory, below her eyes... her lips, which he'd seen
speak so many words and curl with so many emotions... her chin,
that jutted out when she was angry but also when she laughed...
her neck, long and smooth, begging to be stroked... the valley
between her breasts and the nipples he couldn't help
envisioning.... and lower, over smooth skin and taut muscles, his
hand would be gentle over this area, delicately tracing a path
downward, giving goose bumps and making her smile.... and
finally, he would find her desiring him as much as he desired
her... and he would be everything she could want in a lover... he
would make her cry out in ecstasy, leaving her breathless, her
face flushed and glowing.... and they would curl up together in
an embrace filled with trust and gratitude... and love?

Aw, Jeez, Brad, he thought as he grabbed a kleenex. Don't go
there. Just don't go there. But a few minutes later he was
asleep, and in his dreams he went there again.


As she hugged Joe, Monica couldn't help sneaking a look over his
shoulder, watching Brad's car pull to the intersection, and then
she thought she saw Brad turning around to look at her. She
sighed, and Joe squeezed her more tightly. When Brad's car
turned the corner Monica buried her face in the crook of Joe's
neck and let her body go limp against his. He pulled her away
and looked into her eyes. "Can I come in?" he asked tentatively.
"I can stay the night tonight." In the dim light his brown eyes
seemed to go far, far deeper into his soul, revealing a love and
a need that Monica couldn't resist.

"Sure," Monica said, grabbing his hand and leading him to the
door. Once inside she led him to the futon, which was still
folded out as a bed. "You wanted to talk?" she said softly.

She watched as he struggled to get started on what seemed to be a
prepared speech. "Monica, ever since we met..." he paused and
took her hand in his. "I thought, well... I know I was rushing
things, but I thought... that you might be the one." He paused
and checked her face for signs she understood him. Her surprise
wasn't what he'd hoped for, but he knew she was following him, so
he continued. "You're everything I want in a woman... you're
kind, and sweet, and gentle..." He stroked her hand with a slow,
gentle rhythm that Monica found almost too loving. "From that
first day, all I could think about was taking care of you and
protecting you." Monica grimaced, but Joe's eyes were on their
hands, and he added, in a soft voice, "And I think you'll make a
wonderful mother."

Monica pulled her hand free, and said, "Joe, where are you going
with this?"

He grabbed the errant hand and pulled it toward him. The warmth
and gentleness of his hands made Monica relax and let him guide
her hand despite herself. Joe continued, "I know you aren't
ready for me to talk this way... and I wasn't planning to bring
any of this up until much, much later." As one hand stroked
hers, the other massaged her arm, its fingers kneading her
muscles as it walked back and forth between her wrist and elbow.
"But after today..."

"This is about religion, isn't it," Monica interrupted.

Joe nodded. "I know it's your right to do what you want," Joe
conceded. "But before you do something drastic, I want you to
talk it over with a priest. I've asked my brother and he's
willing to talk to you.... privately, in confidence.... after
Mass tomorrow." The pleading look in Joe's eyes surprised
Monica.

"Your brother is a priest?" she said incredulously. "Here, in
Brooklyn?"

"St. Brendan's. It's not far."

"Oh, Joe..." Monica sighed. "I never was religious. I don't
know..."

"Please?" Joe pleaded. "If you don't want to talk to him, I
understand, but please... talk to someone. If you'd rather talk
to a woman, my sister Anne is a good listener. She's a nun. You
can trust her."

Monica looked at him in disbelief. "You have both a brother AND
a sister in the Church?"

"Yes, and an uncle... but he's in Trenton," Joe answered.
"Please," he repeated. "Come to Mass with me tomorrow morning,
then see my brother." He cupped her chin in his hands and the
seriousness of his face, and Monica felt her resolve melting.

"Okay," she said resignedly.

He pulled her mouth to his and kissed her warmly. "Thank you,
sweetie." Putting his arms around her in a bear hug, he rocked
her side to side and buried his face in her hair. "I worry about
you," he whispered.


Monica pulled away. "You don't have to worry about me. I'll be
fine," she insisted.

Joe stroked her hair and kissed her softly on the lips. "Try
stopping me," he whispered into her ear. "I can't help myself.
You're too precious."

As much as she hated being worried about, being called "precious"
was nevertheless flattering and comforting. Joe kissed her
again, lingering at her lips, waiting for her to respond.
Instinctively, she kissed him back and pulled her hands up along
his back, settling on his thick, muscular neck.

They leant back and rolled onto the futon, Joe's hands caressing
Monica with a greater gentleness than they had before. She
responded by rolling onto her back and passively letting him
explore her most sensitive areas. She barely moved as he pulled
off her clothes, item by item, his fingers slowly grazing her
skin as he went. Finally, she lay naked, looking up into his
adoring eyes, as his hands studied every part of her body.

She reached for the hem of his shirt and started to tug upward,
but he grabbed it himself and jerked it over his head. He stood
up and quickly finished undressing, depriving Monica of the
chance to show her admiration for his body in the way he had for
hers.

He positioned himself over her and breathed heavily into her
hair. "You are so beautiful, Monica," he whispered. His hands
continued to explore her, and when he felt her respond, he moved
to consummate their evening. Monica tried to focus on the man
she was with, but every twinge of pleasure brought a different
image to her mind. Fortunately, the twinges ended within a few
minutes, and she could once again focus on Joe's satisfied face
gazing into hers. He reached out and pushed a few stray hairs
away from her face. "You are so beautiful," he repeated. She
smiled weakly and stroked his chest, but before she could think
of something to say, he was asleep.

The next morning Monica awoke first, and for a few moments
watched the burly man beside her, innocently sleeping. Moving
slowly so as not to wake him, she got out of bed and went to the
dining room, then turned a chair toward the corner and started to
meditate. She breathed as she'd been taught, and tried to think
of Tao, of Chinese philosophy, of the few Buddhist lessons she'd
read. But she could only think of Joe.... she knew in her heart
it was over. She couldn't continue to lead him on. It would be
unfair.... Having had this realization, her breathing deepened,
and she was able to move to an altered state of consciousness.
She felt her apartment slip away, then her chair, then her skin
itself... until all her molecules, every atom, had dispersed into
the universe, her entire consciousness feeling at once immense
and minuscule. She felt a freedom she'd never known before, an
awareness that was matched by a simultaneous obliviousness...
She marveled at the experience but, fearing it couldn't last, let
her wonder dissipate into the universe along with her being.

A hand on her shoulder brought her out of her meditation. "Is
this part of that Buddhist thing?" Joe asked, unsuccessful in his
attempt to conceal his contempt.

Monica rose and serenely took his hand. "Yes, you should try it.
It's wonderful!"

"Maybe next time," Joe said cautiously. He grabbed his clothes
and started dressing. "I've got to get my suit out of the car.
Church is in an hour."

Monica found herself sighing frequently as the singing and
praying progressed. She was more sure than ever that this
religion was not her calling. Focusing on her breathing, she
tried to meditate as those around her prayed. She was distracted
by the rhythmic vibrations of a child kicking the back of her
pew. She started to look over her shoulder, trying to catch a
glimpse of the child, when she noticed Joe smiling broadly at
someone directly behind her. It was the thumping child. Monica
sighed in annoyance as Joe started waving and making funny faces.
She closed her eyes and sighed loudly, then bent forward, putting
her head in her hands. "What am I doing here?" she thought to
herself.

Afterward, Joe ushered her through a crowd of coffee-drinking
Catholics and introduced her to his brother. Monica was
surprised at how little the two brothers resembled each other.
Frank was much shorter, with a thin frame, and much lighter skin.
But his demeanor was similar: friendly, helpful, eager to be
liked. Joe stood by, his hands in his trouser pockets, as Monica
and Frank retreated to the rectory. Monica looked back and was
touched by his nervousness. Joe was touched that she looked
back.

The room looked much like a living room or study, with books
lining two walls, comfortable overstuffed furniture carefully
arranged, and soft sunlight diffused through sheer curtains.
Monica felt instantly at home, and Frank's casual friendliness
put her even more at ease.

He got right to the point. "So... Joe tells me you're
considering leaving the Church?"

Monica fidgeted and thought carefully. "I never really felt as
if I belonged in the first place," she said, admitting to herself
the truth of this statement for the first time in her life. "I
never believed the things I pretended to believe. I didn't even
believe that God would punish me for lying about believing in
him."

"Ahhhh" said Frank, leaning forward in a listening pose. "And
what have you found that you think is better?"

"It's not ..." Monica stammered. "It's not a matter of better or
worse. I have this... sense... of good and evil. I need to be
able to feel it without being overwhelmed by it. In my job I'll
be coming across evil... I *have* felt the presence of evil...
and sometimes it... it's made me faint, throw up... Already with
a few lessons in Taoism and Buddhism I've been able to face it...
to accept it..."

"You *want* to accept evil?" Frank questioned.

"No, of course not!" Monica fumbled for a better way to express
herself. "In the FBI, it's a fact of life..."

"You're in the FBI?" Frank seemed surprised. Monica nodded.
Frank sighed and studied her face. "So, you are fighting evil
every day?" Monica nodded again. He scrunched his forehead in
thought, then asked, "How were you coping with evil before you
found this..." He finished with a wave of his hand, as if even
uttering the names of other religions were anathema to him.

"Nothing," Monica said simply. "I thought joining the FBI
*would* help me deal with my sense of evil... that if I could
*do* something about it, maybe it wouldn't be so troublesome, but
then... " A tear poised at the edge of her eye as she finished,
"it was even worse."

Frank sighed deeply. "Well, Monica, I don't know what to tell
you. The whole purpose of the Church is to fight evil with good.
And I have that same sense that you do. My religion has been a
source of strength as I've faced both evil and ... ordinary human
frailties that result in evil. I sense goodness in you --
powerful goodness, but even guided by the Good within you, you
will need a higher Goodness to help you. I can help you find it,
if you want."

"Thank you," Monica said softly. "I don't know..."

"Anytime... it doesn't have to be now," Frank offered.

The ticking of a mantel clock was the only sound for some
seconds, then Monica responded, "Frank... What can you tell me
about exorcism?"

*NOTE: Part 10 will be posted soon*

An Office Romance, by Scifinerdgrl Part 9

After his handball game, Brad felt more relaxed than he had in
weeks. In the locker room, Brad said to Jeff, "Thanks for
suggesting this extra game. I thought I had that situation
solved but then..."

"Uh oh," Jeff said. "What did you do?"

"It wasn't me -- it was her! I set her up with a task force --
to get her out of my division -- and she asked if we would still
see each other."

"Maybe it was innocent," Jeff offered.

"Jeff," Brad looked at him knowingly. "She had her hand on my
thigh. If her boyfriend hadn't interrupted I don't know what
would have happened."

"That changes everything!" Jeff said enthusiastically. "She's a
slut?" Before Brad could object, Jeff continued, his vicarious
excitement building. "In that case, go for it! Her boyfriend is
right there and she's making passes at you? No way are you going
to get in trouble here. Have some fun while you can!"

"Jeff, I don't think..." Brad started to argue, wanting to defend
Monica. He stopped when he realized he wasn't sure if Monica
*was* a slut.

"Listen, Brad..." Jeff put a hand on his shoulder. "Sleeping
with a subordinate... Bad news! Sleeping with a co-worker... Bad
news! Sleeping with the office slut? Don't give it a thought!"
He slapped him on the back then continued dressing. "She's not
going to sue you, and chances are, by the time anyone else finds
out, she'll have boinked everyone who could cause trouble for
you." He shook his head then added, "You lucky dog... You've
found yourself a risk-free piece of ass."

Brad wasn't sure he agreed with Jeff's assessment of the
situation, but he wanted to believe he was right. He left the
gym resolved to stop fighting the inevitable.


Monica emerged from the rectory armed with books, files, and
pamphlets. Joe bounded over to her and took them from her, then
leant over them and gave her a very familiar kiss. "You had a
good talk with my brother?" he said, smiling.

"It was great," Monica nodded. "He's a great guy ... a really
good person, Joe."

Sighing, Joe's eyes glistened as he searched her face for the
answer he wanted. Monica smiled then turned toward the exit, Joe
following a step behind her. It wasn't until they arrived at his
car that he saw what the books were: exorcism books, not
Christian instruction. After Monica had buckled her seat belt he
handed them to her, a questioning look on his face.

"Joe," she said with sympathy. "I'm not changing my mind. These
books are research -- for that task force I told you about."

They drove to her apartment in silence, each writing their
speeches. Joe double-parked and let the engine run. As he
turned in his seat, Monica unlatched her seatbelt and started to
open her door. He grabbed her arm and looked deeply into her
eyes. "Monica," he started. "I think we both know the truth...
this isn't going to work out, is it?"

She shook her head slowly but didn't say anything. He studied
her face as if to memorize it, then stroked her hair. With a
catch in his voice, he said, "I guess this is goodbye, then."
She nodded and leaned forward to meet his final kiss. As they
parted each looked sadly into the other's eyes.

"Goodbye, Joe," she whispered with finality.

"Bye," he answered.


The sun was setting behind her as Monica sat at her desk reading
through Frank's books on exorcism. Frank had confirmed some of
Monica's suspicions, and he promised to let her know if he heard
of anyone performing unauthorized exorcisms. As she read, she
kept a running list of thoughts, ideas, clues to look for... and
she didn't notice the time passing, nor the footsteps in the
hallway.

A metallic scrape sent her flying to her feet. When the door
flung open she was ready, her feet spread and her arms
outstretched and pointing her gun toward the doorway. The
silhouetted figure put up his hands and said, "Monica... it's me,
Brad."

She let him approach, and as the overhead fixture lit his face
she relaxed and lowered her shoulder, then holstered her gun.
"Brad!" she yelled. "What are you doing picking my lock?!?!"

He held up a key for her inspection. "Master key. I'm your
supervisor, remember? I can open all of the doors in this
hallway."

Monica sighed. "What do you want," she said with irritation.

"I'm preparing for tomorrow's meeting," he said a little
nervously. I need to look up a few cases..."

"Come on in," she said, ushering him in, and waving toward the
door. He closed the door obediently and took a few steps
forward.

"I might ask you what *you're* doing here," he said.

"Just a little research," she nodded toward her desk. "I picked
up some material on exorcism.

Brad picked up one of the books and thumbed through it
appraisingly. "Frank Costello?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in
surprise.

"Joe's brother," she answered, grabbing the book from him and
putting it back on the pile. "He's a priest."

"So..." Brad carefully feigned a casual interest. "You and Joe
went to church together today? Things are progressing nicely."

"We broke up," Monica announced. "Happy?"

"Of course not," he said, genuine hurt in his voice. He rubbed
his hand up and down her upper arm. "It's always sad when..."

"Do you want to know why?" she asked accusingly.

"No, not really," he said, still stroking her compassionately.
"What happened between you is none of my business. I'm just
sorry you were hurt."

She put her hand out to his other hand, and he took it. "I'm
sad, but more sad for him. I'm not what he thought I was... but
I already knew he wasn't the man for me." She squeezed his hand.
"He wasn't my type either."

Brad gulped. "And what *is* your type?"

In answer to his question, Monica leaned forward, her lips
demanding to be kissed. His lips obeyed.


Their first kiss was tentative, but it didn't take long for their
pent-up desire to express itself in a passionate kiss that melted
Monica's spine and made Brad weak in the knees. As they came up
for air, Brad put his hands behind her head and drank in the
vision of her flushed face.

"Am I your type?" he asked breathlessly.

"Oh, yes," she sighed, bringing her lips to his for more. His
lips were soft and warm, and they seemed to embrace her mouth,
moving in constantly evolving patterns that took her to higher
and higher planes of desire. She couldn't help leaning into his
body, delighting in its warmth and suppleness. She loved
everything he did to her -- did *for* her. She'd never felt this
way before.

Brad followed as she backed herself toward her desk, and when she
jumped up onto it and wrapped her legs around him he pulled away.
Her legs maintained their grip on his hips as he said, in a
strained voice, "Monica... we can't ... we shouldn't..."

"You're not my supervisor anymore," she flirted, pulling on his
tie. He responded by smoothing his tie against his chest.

"I need to prepare for the meeting...." he said between gentle
kisses. "Can you wait..." he looked at his watch. "An hour?"

She smiled, thinking how long she'd waited for a kiss like that.
All her life, she realized. What was one more hour? "Okay," she
said, her lips curled into a mock pout. "I'll be waiting for
you."

She watched as he gathered his materials, his businesslike
demeanor convincing her to go back to work herself. As he closed
the door he looked into her face once more, and she smiled with a
joy no other woman had ever shown for him. "An hour," he
promised, then closed the door.


An hour later, Monica was engrossed in her studies when she heard
a tentative knock on the door. She flew to the door and opened
it to find a smiling yet insecure Brad Follmer. They stood
facing each other for a few awkward seconds until Monica stepped
backward to shut the door. She leaned against the door and
smiled giddily at Brad. "You came back!" she said excitedly.

"Of course," he whispered, reaching for her hand. "I needed to
be sure I wasn't dreaming earlier."

Smiling, Monica grabbed his hand and pulled it around her waist.
Brad ran his free hand along her jaw line, and when it reached
her chin he tilted her head upward. Their lips joined in a
tentative kiss that deepened as they pulled each other closer.
After several minutes of slow, sensuous probing, their mouths
separated and formed smiles that were mirror images of each
other. "It was no dream?" Brad said finally.

"I'm not sure," Monica whispered. "Reality's never been like
this before."

"No?" Brad seemed surprised.

Monica ran her hands over his chest, marveling at its subtle
geography. "Nobody's ever kissed me like that," she blushed and
studied her hands as they continued roaming over his body. "I
never knew..." she sighed. "I never knew a kiss could be like
that."

Brad tilted her head upward and planted another soft sensuous
kiss on her waiting lips. "Like that?" he asked softly.

She inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of his closeness.
"Yes, like that," she sighed.

She's no slut, Brad realized suddenly. "There's more where that
came from..." he said, then gave her a long, lingering kiss that
took her breath away.

When they came up for air she put her hands on his cheeks, taking
in the sight of his shining eyes. "I hope so..." Her thumbs
traced the outline of his lips, following their contour as he
smiled under them. "Joe never had any idea..." she stopped when
she realized what she'd said. The surprise in Brad's face urged
her to an explanation. "He never knew that when I was with
him..." she blushed but felt an overwhelming need to tell Brad
the truth. "When I was with him... I mean really *with* him... I
couldn't help wishing I was with you."

Her confession caused Brad's heart to skip a beat, and he pulled
her closer to him. She responded by wrapping her arms around his
neck, and he nuzzled the hair over her ear. "I was wishing the
same thing," he whispered.

And in that moment, Brad knew that this woman would be both his
salvation and his undoing.


He drove her home that night, but despite an hour of lingering,
sensuous kisses, she didn't invite him in, and he didn't suggest
it. Monica thought of her sheets, where Joe had so recently
been. Brad thought of his meeting, his first as a supervisor.
It was all he could do to spend that hour finishing his
preparation; he knew he'd never pull it off if he spent the night
with her. He was the one who started the good-bye process,
reminding her that they each had a stressful morning ahead.

Monica attended the meeting, her first and last in the division.
Jacob Franklin, her new partner sat with her, giving her a
running commentary under his breath as Brad went through his
carefully prepared speech. Despite frequent whispers of
"ass-kisser" and "spoiled brat" from both beside and behind her,
Monica thought it was an excellent speech. She blushed when he
mentioned her name and said how sorry they were to be losing her
so soon. She left halfway through to keep her appointment with
Williams, but couldn't resist the urge to turn around at the door
and gaze at the man who took her breath away. He saw her,
stumbled over his words, then glued his eyes to his notes. On
the way to Williams' office Jacob ran through a list of both Brad
and Mike's faults, which only served to make Monica love Brad
more.

She was disappointed to find Brad's office empty after her
meeting, and decided to get some lunch. Janet was standing in
her usual place, smoking. She greeted Monica and the two began
chatting. Monica told Janet about her break-up with Joe, and
Janet's understanding demeanor made Monica want to tell her
everything else besides. But she knew she couldn't. Janet
noticed Monica's anxiety and said soothingly, "Don't worry,
honey. The right man is out there somewhere. It's a big city."

"Thank you, Janet," Monica sighed. "I hope so."

"Monica, I heard about your transfer," Janet put a hand on
Monica's arm. "You can still come by and talk to me. Anytime."

Smiling both inwardly and outwardly, Monica answered, "Thank you.
I might just take you up on that. It's only been half a day and
already I miss our chats."

"Brad will be back with our lunches any minute. We're working
through lunch today," Janet explained. "But we can talk until he
shows up, anyway."

Monica brightened at the realization she could see Brad so soon,
and let Janet probe her on all aspects of her relationship with
Joe. But when the subject turned to sex, Monica's stomach grew
queasy. "Um, Janet," she said cautiously. "Could I bum a
cigarette?"

After a few puffs Monica felt calmed. Janet was surprised to
find Monica so comfortable with a cigarette. "I bet Joe didn't
approve of that, either," Janet said knowingly.

Monica laughed. "He's such a fitness nut..." Brad's sudden
appearance behind Janet made Monica inhale sharply. She quickly
threw the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. "Hello,
Agent Follmer," she said with forced casualness.

"Agent Reyes," he nodded. "Janet, they were out of prosciuto.
I'm sorry." He turned toward the door, indicating that Janet
should follow, then addressed Monica in a formal tone. "Good
luck in your new assignment, Agent," he said, then disappeared
into the building, leaving Monica wondering whether she'd
imagined the night before.

At the end of the day, Monica returned to her office to find a
voice-mail from Brad. "Hi Monica, it's Brad... Listen, when
we're at work, we have to be all-business, okay? Stop by my
office when you're finished, and we can talk about it. I let
Janet go home early."

Monica's heart was racing as she turned the knob on Brad's office
door, but all her doubts were erased as soon as she was inside.
He grabbed her and kissed her passionately. "I was afraid you
wouldn't come," he whispered.

"I couldn't wait!" she groaned, her hands roaming over his back.

He cupped her jaw in his long slender hands and said, "We
shouldn't see each other during the day. I'll never get any work
done." He kissed her again, his lips growing softer and more
sensuous as her body danced in his hands. As he ground into her,
he pushed her further and further back until she was up against
the wall. She drew one knee up along the side of his leg as she
nuzzled his neck. "Oh, Monica," he moaned. "You're making me so
hot...."

"Good," she whispered into his ear.


He ground against her, and she could feel his pleasure growing as
she met his grinding motions with sensuous movements of her own.
Her arms slipped under his jacket and pulled him even closer as
her hands wandered aimlessly across his back. Following her lead
in this dance, Brad's hands roamed over her back. Her ragged
breathing sent waves of hot desire over his face, then his neck,
then over his chest as she loosened his tie and unbuttoned his
top buttons. As her head bowed to delight in the warmth under
his shirt he leaned over, whispering behind her head, "yes,
yes..." She responded by undoing the rest of his shirt buttons,
until she came to the top of his trousers. She looked up,
smiling into his eyes as she grabbed his belt buckle and quickly
freed its clasp. He swayed backward with pleasure, and he felt
as if he might have collapsed if she hadn't been holding onto his
waistband. She continued holding him up with one hand as the
other went lower, exploring layer by layer until she found what
she was looking for. He groaned as she explored him, and with
what willpower he had left he moved his hands to her breasts,
caressing then pinching them through the silky fabric of her
blouse. She let go of his manhood and breathed some breathy
sighs as his hands repeated for her what hers had done for him.
She undid the clasp of her trousers, letting him explore whatever
he wanted... and he wanted to explore all of her. His long
fingers expertly found places she never knew could feel good.
Grinding against him, she let go of herself, letting him guide
her to heights she'd never imagined. Panting, she leaned against
his shoulder, hugging herself to him for support as she
recovered.

When her breathing had slowed, Brad pulled her face to his. He
offered her a slow, tender, affectionate kiss that was unlike any
kiss she'd experienced. She pulled away and her dewy eyes looked
at him with wonder and gratitude.

"Like that?" Brad murmured, then leaned forward to nuzzle behind
her ear. "There's more where that came from." When she didn't
answer he looked into her eyes again. "Are you one of those
women who can..." he paused when she seemed puzzled. "How long
should I wait? Minutes? Hours? Till tomorrow?" When she still
seemed not to understand he decided to be blunt. "Monica, how
many more orgasms can you have?"

"I don't know," she breathed. "I've never had even one like that
one!"

"No?" Brad was astonished. She shook her head to confirm her
answer. "Well then," he growled. "Let's experiment..." He
reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, then extracted a
linty, crinkly package. "Want to put it on for me?" he asked as
he tore it open with his teeth.

Recognizing the object before her, Monica felt flushed and
excited. "I wouldn't know how..."

"No?" Brad felt both guilty and honored to be the one to teach
Monica the fine art, leading her hand along his shaft as together
they unfurled the condom that had waited so optimistically for so
many years. When the job was done, he smiled and kissed her
again, grinding his newly clothed member against her hot, moist
skin. He slid his hands down her back, then cupped her asscheeks
and started to lift her off her feet, a low growl escaping his
throat as she giggled into his lips.

She parted her legs as he lifted, wrapping them around his hips.
She breathed heavily into the nape of his neck, alternating
breathy moans with light kisses. She could feel him seeking
entrance and wiggled to help, when suddenly she heard him utter a
low, frustrated, "Damn!"

He exhaled and lowered her to her feet, then repeated, "Damn."

"What's wrong?" she asked, her frustration equal to his.

"The condom broke," he muttered.

Just then they heard the door open.



Janet hurriedly closed the door, and by the time Brad opened it
she had disappeared. He slammed it shut, then turned the lock.
"Damn," he muttered.

Monica came up behind him, and put her arms around his waist.
Instinctively, he turned and embraced her tenderly. "I hope this
wasn't a mistake," he said thoughtfully, looking over her
shoulder, taking in the patriotic accoutrements of his position.
Her arms shifted, somehow finding just the right way to comfort
him. He buried his face in her hair and sighed. "No," he
whispered. "This is no mistake."

She grinned contentedly, her sigh offering him even more comfort.
"We just need to lock the door," she whispered back. He laughed
in spite of himself and pulled away to drink in her serene face.

"Good thinking, Agent," he said, his eyes sparkling with
admiration. "Because now that I've found you, I can't imagine
giving you up." He took her head in his hands and kissed her,
with passionate tenderness that astonished her. She marveled how
each kiss from him seemed different, and how each one
communicated such depth of feeling. She would never have guessed
he could be so passionate, and if not for the power of her own
feelings she would have felt overwhelmed.

This time it was her turn to pull away and gaze lovingly at him.
"I don't want to give you up either," she said breathily. She
caressed his cheek, and he leaned into her hand. "I want to take
you home with me and never leave the house."

He laughed. "Then maybe we should go to my place." Pulling her
to him, he let her feel his eagerness for her then added, "We'll
need to get out occasionally to stock up on condoms."


Monica was surprised by the appearance of Brad's apartment. It
was almost as small as hers, furnished with pieces that had seen
better days, and not very neat. It was so different from the
clean, modern efficiency of his office. She stood behind him as
he locked the door, eyeing the shabby sofa.

After locking the door, Brad set his keys on a small table then
put his arm around Monica's waist. "It's not much, I know," he
said, following the direction of her eyes. "That sofa came from
Goodwill... but it's sturdy. It'll last forever." He spun her
around to face him then took her face in his long hands. "I look
for quality.... always," he said, looking deeply into her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean..." She could tell
he didn't want an apology, but she continued anyway. "I just
expected something more... modern." She smiled weakly, hoping he
wasn't hurt. He was. She wrapped her arms around his waist and
said impishly, "I hope your bed is sturdy."

"There's one way to find out," he smiled. He kissed her
hungrily, letting his hands roam over her back. She responded by
pulling at his lapel, then pulling off his suit jacket, keeping
her lips on his. She threw the jacket on the floor then pulled
him to her. He suddenly pulled away, then bent to pick up the
jacket. "Sorry," he said as he hung the jacket over the back of
a chair. "This is my best suit." He pulled off his pants and
gently smoothed them before draping them over another chair.

He stood before her in his socks and underwear, trying to look
sexy. Monica barely suppressed a laugh. But soon he was wrapped
around her, his cotton undershirt rubbing against her cheek, then
against her skin as her blouse fell to the floor. Leaving a
puddle of clothing at their feet, they explored each others'
bodies with caresses and kisses that made each of them gasp.
Brad cupped one of Monica's breasts in his hands, and leaning
forward, tongued a line from her nipple to her collarbone, then
traced a path of light kisses that finished behind her ear. She
shivered in his hands and pulled herself closer to him. "Cold?"
he whispered into her ear. She nodded, and he responded by
rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "C'mon," he reached for
a hand. "Let's go to bed."


Her hand in his, Monica eagerly followed Brad through the bedroom
door. A dim pink light filtered up from the street, casting long
dark shadows onto the ceiling. Brad pulled her toward the bed
and caressed her face between soft, tender kisses. "You're so
beautiful," he whispered huskily. "Do you have any idea what you
do to me?"

She pushed her hips toward his, and he laughed into her mouth as
his eagerness felt the soft flesh of her abdomen. "Yes, I guess
you do," he answered himself. She reached for his cock and
stroked it gently, then more firmly as she felt him pressing into
her. He groaned into her ear and started humping into her hand.
"You're driving me crazy," he growled, then quickly pulled away
from her.

"I thought you liked it?" Monica said innocently.

"Too much," he gently pushed her back toward the bed. "I want to
drive you crazy first," he grinned, and in the dim light his face
took on a sinister cast.

"Let's turn the lights on," suggested Monica, resisting his
efforts to lay her down. "I want to see everything. I want to
look into your eyes."

At his hesitation she struggled weakly to raise herself up. He
sat on the edge of the bed, his knees turned toward her, and bent
to kiss her. "Why? Isn't this much more sensuous?"

"Please?" she begged, as his dark features started to frighten
her.

Sighing, he leaned toward the bedside lamp and turned it on. The
glare upset his eyes, and he fiddled with the shade for a few
moments until casting the light against a wall and mirror.
"How's that?" he turned toward her.

She was sitting up in bed, one hand on his thigh, her eyes
drinking in the sights around her before answering his. His
bedroom was even shabbier than his living room, and except for
the immaculately neat closet visible through an open door, it
looked both dingy and a little messy. She tried to hide her
disappointment, but his entire being was focused on her happiness
and pleasure. His ability to read every nuance of facial
expressions and body language was renowned in the FBI, and when
it came to her it verged on ESP. "It's not much, I know... but
by New York standards..."

"I understand," she smiled. "I was apartment-hunting only a few
weeks ago." She took his face in her hands and drew it to her,
experiencing for the first time a hint of hesitation in his
affection. She kissed him tenderly, with a softness that almost
erased Brad's feelings of shame for arousing her pity. As they
kissed she leaned back, and he crawled forward, finally laying on
top of her, his hurt pride forgotten.

He pulled away and raised himself up in a sensual push-up. "You
still want to watch?" She nodded and breathed deeply as he
trailed light kisses down her neck. Watching everything he did,
Monica spread her arms out and grabbed the bedcovers. As he
started to lick and fondle her nipples, she writhed in pleasure,
trying not to notice the nubbly pills covering the bedspread. He
was an expert lover, bringing her almost to the brink of orgasm
as his tongue worked over one nipple and his fingers caressed the
other. She gasped when he moved his mouth to the other nipple,
the canyon between her legs suddenly gushing with desire.
Instinctively, she parted her legs and drew them up alongside
his, offering him entrance to her core.

Accepting her invitation, Brad slowly explored every inch of her
body on the way to his destination. His hands found the ticklish
place just below her ribcage; his mouth circled her navel as her
chest heaved above him; keeping his eyes open, he drank in every
detail, every mole and muscle, until he found the curly hairs
that exuded a musky warmth. Monica felt her insides melt, as the
sex act she'd only read about seemed imminent for her. "Oh...
Brad..." she sighed involuntarily. "Yessssss..." He slowly
teased her opening, first with his fingers, then his lips, then
finally running his tongue over all her hills and valleys. Her
twitches, sighs, and groans were all the navigation he needed as
he drove her to an orgasm that threatened to suffocate both of
them. He was sure he was bruised where her heels had knocked
against his back, but he considered it a small price to pay for
the satisfaction of bringing satisfaction to her.

As he crawled upwards over her body, she looked down with a
beatific glow that made him smile with pride. Seeing his face
slathered with her silky juices, his shiny lips breaking into a
broad smile, made Monica smile herself. But as his lips reached
for hers she instinctively turned away, forcing his cheek to rub
against hers, leaving a sticky streak from her mouth to her ear.
He hummed into her ear, rubbing his face into her hair. "Don't
like that?" he whispered. "No problem..." He pulled away and
faced her, his hands stroking her hair back from each temple.
"Just let me know..." he said. "You can tell me anything." She
nodded faintly. "Want me to wash my face?" he added, his
eyebrows scrunching his forehead in expectation of an answer. A
slight grimace was all the answer he needed. "Be right back," he
said cheerfully, and bounded toward the bathroom.

While she waited Monica basked in the afterglow of her heavenly
climax, but couldn't help noticing the crooked drawer of his
dresser and the crack in his mirror. She closed her eyes and
breathed deeply, willing herself to forget the dissonance between
the Brad she worked with and the Brad she was with now. "Back in
a bit," she heard him say as he shuffled toward the living room.
She sighed. He was so cheerful...

He returned with the package of condoms and jumped into bed next
to her. "You're not tired yet, are you?" he asked solicitously.

"No," she said, then realized he must have read something in her
face. "No," she repeated more forcefully, grabbing him around
the waist.

"Good," he growled, wrapping his arms around her. "Because I
have a few ideas..."

She kissed him, taking him by surprise. He marveled that such an
inexperienced woman could be so eager, bold and passionate. He
pulled her with him as he reached for the condoms, then placed
one in her hand.

Within minutes his sheathed member was teasing her swollen labia,
moving in sensuous circles, the tip rubbing against her clit at
each pass. She writhed under him, eventually succeeding in
clasping his cock in the strong walls of her vagina. He gasped
then pushed in slowly, feeling her accepting him as her legs
wrapped around him. When he was fully inside her he paused and
sighed into her ear, "My god, Monica... you're perfect..." It
felt so natural, so right for him to be with her. He raised
himself up a few inches, keeping his mouth near her ear and
whispering something that might have come out as words in another
setting. He let one hand slide over her shoulder down to a
breast, palming her nipple in a gentle circle. "We are so
perfect together," his husky voice huffed into her ear.

She smiled as he uttered these words, feeling the same sentiment,
as Brad's stiff cock slid into her slippery channel. He filled
her completely, and as his hairs tangled with hers she felt an
almost spiritual union with this man. Wordlessly she started to
urge him on, and he took his cue, sliding in and out, in and
out... slowly, as if to memorize every moment of the journey. She
groaned softly as he continued to control their pace, speeding
almost imperceptibly, lingering over each sensation. Gradually,
without her realizing it, her tension built, opening a new realm
of feelings, both physical and spiritual.

Acknowledging his mastery, she let him take control. His grunts,
sighs, and, eventually, shouts, urged her on to her own noisy
expressions of pleasure, until eventually she erupted in a howl
that she only later realized was her own. She felt her body fall
away from her, as her mind exploded into the vastness of the
universe, seeing only light, hearing only silence, feeling only
electricity...

Sensing her final release, Brad took his mind off tennis and gave
himself over to his own release. With a loud groan he filled the
condom to overflowing, then collapsed on top of Monica's
shuddering body. He buried his face in the space between her
neck and his pillow, and waited for his body to remember itself.
His eyes squeezed shut as his breath struggled to escape in heavy
pants. With a final sigh he relaxed into her fragrant softness,
struggling to return to the real world. He rubbed his face up,
down, and around her hair for several seconds before realizing
why -- his cheeks were wet with tears. His pride returned, and
he buried himself even deeper into the protection of her hair,
even as the tears continued to flow. Instinctively, he snaked
his arms under her and hugged her to him tightly.

Monica responded by wrapping her arms around his back, but within
a few moments felt herself struggling to breathe. "Brad," she
gasped. "You're too heavy -- I can't breathe."

Brad sighed and rolled to his side. He knew too well the gravity
of what they'd just done.

Title: An Office Romnce, part 10
Author: Scifinerdgrl
Rating: NC-17
Category: S/X/R
Keywords: Follmer/Reyes Romance, Pre-XF, X-File
Spoilers: Foreshadowing of Empedocles, Release
Feedback: scifinerdgrl@hotmail.com or scifinerdgrl@mail.ev1.net
Flames: dontyouhaveanythingbettertodo@getalife.com

He awoke to find himself alone in bed, and for a moment was
relieved. Maybe he'd just been dreaming, maybe he hadn't just
made love to a subordinate... But as his mind cleared he
remembered more details -- sounds, scents, tastes... It was all
too real. Exhilaratingly, horrifyingly real. He rolled onto her
side of the bed and mashed his face into the pillow, her scent
reassuring him the night before had actually happened.

He found her in the dining room, seated, facing a blank wall.
Immediately he deduced what she was doing, and took advantage of
the moment to study her features. She sat tall and erect, her
eyes lightly closed, breathing slowly and deeply. His chin on
one hand, he lay on the sofa, peering over the worn arm with
intense interest. She was wearing one of his shirts -- a light
blue one -- making her appear girlish in contrast. He traced her
profile with his index finger, memorizing every contour in case
the moment would never be repeated. Moving to her breasts, tiny
at this distance, but with enough curves showing through the
shirt, he remembered the vision he'd drunk in the night before,
the nipples he'd caressed so lovingly, the feel of her silky skin
under his hand... How long would she continue? He didn't dare
interfere, but he wasn't sure how long he could continue to
torture himself this way. Yet he couldn't stop. His mind moved
all over her body, sending tingles to his lips and fingertips as
he imagined them exploring her once again. Without meaning to,
he let out a loud sigh, causing her to look in his direction.

With a regal bearing, she turned her head, only her head, in his
direction, and, seeing him eyeing her, bestowed on him a Mona
Lisa grin. She turned back to her meditation and soon took three
very deep breaths, followed by a graceful rise from her seat, and
a soundless procession to the sofa, his eyes following every step
with interest and awe. Laying her palm on the nape of his neck,
she summoned him to follow her, then turned toward the bedroom.
He wouldn't remember making the journey... he simply arrived.
Taking her head in his hand, he kissed her lightly, giving
himself over to her control. Monica wrapped her arms around his
waist and slowly, lazily, let her thumbs lead her hands upwards
along his spine. He sighed into her mouth and whispered
hoarsely, "Monica, I adore you," before he had a chance to think.

Sighing, she answered by nuzzling, then nibbling his neck, just
below his strong jaw line. He leaned into her attentions and
relaxed his body against hers. "You were magnificent last night,"
he whispered.

She pulled away suddenly, and with a glint in her eyes said, "So
were you. I've never had an... experience like that."

He stroked her hair with both hands and smiled, his own eyes
acquiring the glint he saw in hers. "You almost didn't last
night!" he chuckled. "I don't think I could have held out any
longer."

"You waited?" she asked with surprise. "You were waiting for
me?"

He nodded. "Of course," he answered, as if there could never be
any doubt. "I want you to," he paused, searching for a euphemism
to match hers. "...enjoy being with me. I can't be happy if you
aren't."

Her chest heaving with gratitude and desire, her lips reaching
for his, she pulled him closer, the pressure of her hands pushing
his center toward hers. He took the hint and carefully,
tenderly, laid her on the bed.

She looked up at him, her heart racing as he leaned forward to
kiss her. His kiss was warm, soft, comfortable and very, very
natural, yet at the same time passionate and exciting. It was
the memory of his lips that had intruded on her meditation. Try
as she might, whenever she let go of her conscious thoughts, the
memory of his kisses had floated to the surface of her mind that
morning. When she heard him tip-toeing at the other end of the
apartment she had doubled her efforts to concentrate, but instead
of slowing down, her heart started speeding up. As she continued
trying to capture that sense of well-being that meditation
promised, the sounds he made as he laid on the sofa, breathing
softly and shifting his weight occasionally, were as loud and
crisp as if she'd taped them and played them back through
headphones. Although he was at least twenty feet away, her mind
placed her close to him. His sigh coincided with the inward sigh
she'd felt when she realized she had far to go on her spiritual
journey. One day she would be able to meditate with him in the
room, but for now, her thoughts were far more corporeal than
spiritual.

When she saw him laying there, studying her, she remembered Joe's
reaction to her meditation. Seeing Brad watching her, knowing he
had tried not to disturb her, sent a thrill of desire through her
body. As he followed her into the bedroom she felt at once
powerful and enslaved, pulled toward the bed by her desire for
him, yet exerting an undertow that he was powerless to escape.
These unseen forces met in her center, and as Brad drew closer
she felt herself halfway to ecstasy before she could feel his
breath.

Brad brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, his hand
following her hair down to her shoulder, then over her neck. He
rubbed his fingers against the placard of the shirt, running
downward along its edge until they came to the first button. "You
are the most incredible woman," he sighed. She smiled and
breathed deeply, staring into his eyes, as he fumbled with, then
succeeded in unbuttoning the shirt, keeping his eyes on hers. One
button at a time, he pushed the fabric to the sides, and by the
time his hand came to the hem of the shirt, she was breathing
heavily and curling her spine to bring herself closer to him. He
found her center without looking, its damp heat and her movements
guiding him as he gently tickled his way toward the seat of her
desire. She gasped when he found her oily folds. As he started
to investigate, her body gushed its approval, making him smile in
spite of himself. "We don't have much time before work," he
grinned. "But I get the impression you don't want me to dawdle
here."

For an answer, she grabbed his head and brought it to hers,
engulfing his lips in a passionate kiss that took his breath
away. With his free hand he reached blindly for the condoms on
the night stand, and pulled away to tear at a package with his
teeth. The sight of his animalistic attack on the package sent
Monica to a new level of desire, and she eagerly snapped up the
contents as he dropped it onto her chest. He rolled onto his
back, letting her cover his manhood, first with latex, then with
herself. They both groaned as their love-making grew
exponentially, taking them to a simultaneous release, each
watching the other's face, each feeling the joy of mutual
passion. Panting, Monica collapsed on top of him, her damp hair
draping over his face. Brad put his lips to her ear but couldn't
think of words to express his feelings. Instead, he gently
kissed the curves of her ear, reaching for each ripple, his
kisses slowing as the passion of their love-making drained away.
She rolled off of him, leaving an arm draped across his chest.
"Are you always this good?" she said with a flirtatious grin that
barely masked the genuineness of her feelings.

"I'll give you a few phone numbers," he grinned back. "You can
take a poll." He paused when her face turned serious, then
reached for her cheek and stroked it tenderly. "But there's
another way you can find out..."

"I think I prefer the other way," she chuckled. She pulled
herself closer to him and relaxed into a comfortable hug.
Resting her head on his shoulder, she sighed, relieved to think
this hadn't been a fluke for him.

As if knowing she needed reassurance, he kissed the top of her
hair and gently stroked her arm. "I'm not sure a poll would be a
good indicator anyway," he said finally. "I've never felt so..."
he paused, searching for the right word, and she lifted her head
to look into his eyes. The sight of her chocolate eyes searching
for answers in his brought words to his mind that were far too
powerful for such new love. He let the thoughts drop and started
over. "You're very special," he said softly. "It's never felt
like this for me, either."

She put her head back down, and they lay in their afterglow until
his alarm went off.

END OF PART 6