Summary: Kimberly's got a secret admirer. Schmoop alert.

SECRET ADMIRER BY KRISTEN K2 PART 2 OF 2
SEE PART 1 FOR HEADERS

When she stopped in Skinner's office at the end of the week
from hell, he looked as exhausted and wrung out as she
felt. He'd gotten back to DC that morning, and had spent
all day plowing through the pile in his in-box that had
been threatening to topple over from neglect. But his smile
was warm and engaging as she entered.

"Is it quitting time already?" he asked as she approached
the side of his desk.

"Yes, sir," she replied with an answering smile. He'd been
doing it a lot more lately, and it was hard not to return
them. "I'm sorry I can't stay longer to help you dig
through some of this."

He gave her a wave of dismissal. "Don't worry about it.
Emma is probably thrilled that she's getting a chance to
spend more time with you."

"Thanks. My mom said her cold is almost finished, so next
week I can stay as late as needed. I've appreciated you
being so patient about all this." An impulse struck her,
and she gave in to it without thinking. "Would you like to
come over for dinner tonight?"

*Oh my God. What did she just say?* She added, her words
spilling out quicker and quicker as she went, "It's just
Emma's been talking about you non-stop since the day at the
toy store, and since you haven't been home all week, you
probably don't have anything to eat in your fridge, and-"

"I'd love to, Kimberly," he interrupted her insane
babbling. Then he glanced at his still-towering in-box, and
his smile quickly down-shifted to a frown. "But I've got to
make a bigger dent in this before I leave for the day.
Would eight o'clock be okay, or is it past Emma's bedtime?"

Her eyes were as big as saucers as she realized what had
occurred. He'd just accepted her offer of a date, as
quickly and impulsively as she had asked it. "No, eight
would be fine, Walter. Let me write down the directions for
you."

On her train ride home, Kim's brain went into over-drive,
as she started to plan what needed to be done first. And
when she got into the house, she rolled up her sleeves, and
turned into a human cyclone. By the time eight o'clock
rolled around, her house almost didn't look like hers. Gone
were the random toys scattered around, there was a fresh
bouquet of flowers in the beautiful cut-glass vase, candles
were lit invitingly all over, her garbage can was full of
boxes that the Pampered Chef had packed the dinner she
ordered in, and the house was strangely, blessedly silent
except for a Stevie Wonder CD playing quietly on her
stereo.

And Kim looked, well, phenomenal, she decided as she took
one last glance in the mirror. She'd showered using the
sandalwood soap, and let her hair dry naturally so it had a
little curl in it. She'd changed from her work-day outfit
to a dress that had been hiding in the back of her closet
for eons. Made of a dove-gray fabric, so soft it felt like
a cloud against her skin, it had a long line of front
buttons that ran down the entire length. Purchased on a
whim before Emma was born, the lines of the dress were
classic and still stylish: simple, full-skirted, nipped at
the waist, with a scoop neckline that was low but not low
enough to expose anything too racy. Kim was thrilled when
she put it on to see that it fit perfectly; she actually
bought it a size too big, because it had been on sale and
too beautiful to pass up, which was one reason why it had
never been worn before tonight.

It was her fantasy dress. And since she was fairly certain
she was about to make a long-denied fantasy come true, it
had seemed like the ideal opportunity to wear it.

After almost six weeks of mulling it over, she realized she
knew who her secret admirer was. When she ran over the
chain of events in her mind, she saw a bunch of clues she'd
missed when they'd been dropped. How had she been so blind?

And she thought she had a pretty good idea why her admirer
didn't want to be discovered. But honestly, his reasons
were nonsense, if Walter had been correct in his theory.
Fear of rejection? Please. Her mystery man was more than a
little handsome, and strong, and smart, and rather sexy.
Okay, very sexy. In doing all this for her, he'd displayed
a heretofore unseen romantic side to his otherwise stellar
character. So because she *was* a phenomenal woman, she was
prepared to take the risk and unmask him. If she was wrong,
well, so be it. For the first time in far too long,
Kimberly Cook was throwing caution to the wind, putting
aside her responsibilities, her obligations, and her duties
as mother, daughter, housekeeper, cook, chauffeur, typist,
scheduler, and secretary. She was giving herself the
ultimate indulgence as a woman. A lover.

Both Walter's and Kim's mouths dropped open as she opened
the door when he buzzed promptly at eight on the dot. But
it wasn't how he looked that stunned Kim, although he did
look magnificent. He'd changed too, into a creamy off-white
sweater that clung to his chest, and chocolate brown slacks
that matched the color of his eyes. *He looks like a
vanilla ice cream cone*, her mind thought wildly. But that
wasn't the thing that blew her away. It was the huge panda
bear in his arms.

"I...I brought this for Emma," he stammered. "As sort of a
thank-you for inviting me."

Kim took the bear from him, and escorted him inside. When
he accidentally brushed against her as they clumsily
negotiated the narrow hallway, an over-sized stuffed
animal, and two very nervous people, she caught a whiff of
his cologne, and her suspicions were confirmed. That clean,
clear, rain smell from the cards. He didn't wear cologne at
work.

"Emma's not here tonight," she said, putting the panda down
on the couch as he stood in the middle of her living room,
turning to face her with a slightly confused but eager
expression in his eyes. It dawned on her that he wasn't
wearing his wirerims, so she could see him without the
glass barrier that kept him a safe distance from everyone.
"My mom insisted she spend the night with her, since she
hasn't seen her all week."

It was a small white lie; Kim had been the one who made the
request, but her mom had easily agreed the second she'd
told her why.

"So...it's just us?" he asked. When she nodded, he stared
at her for a long beat, then apparently made a decision.
His eyes crinkled up as he gave her a slow, easy smile.
"You look beautiful, Kimberly. You should wear gray more
often, it's a very flattering color."

"Thank you, Walter. I figured you liked it, since it's the
color of the scarf you gave me."

No sense in beating around the bush, she thought. If she
was wrong, then he could hightail it out of there before
either one of them did something regrettable.

His mouth gaped open again, then closed. After a few
nervous fidgets, he spread his hands in a helpless gesture.
"How did I give it away?"

Beaming, she took a step closer to him, and raised her
hands to tick off her points on her fingers. "You were very
discreet, actually. It took me forever to put the pieces
together. But first, the card that came with the flowers
wasn't addressed to me, which hinted that maybe there never
had been a messenger at all. And on my way out today, I
took a quick peek at the visitor's log at the guard station
downstairs to confirm it. Second, the entire discussion we
had over ice cream after I received the scarf."

"I thought I was going a bit overboard with that," he
chuckled.

"No, you hit just the right note, because I still didn't
think it was you. It wasn't until you got such an unusual
look on your face when I asked you if it was Krycek, that I
started to really wonder."

"I was jealous as hell," he sighed. "Seeing you two
standing so close when I got to the office, and then you
asked me, it threw me completely off-balance. I spent the
entire meeting with him trying to decide if I should either
clean his clock or tell you the truth."

"Too bad you didn't ask me," she giggled. "I would have
picked clean his clock, just because he's so slimy."

Walter let out one of his rare deep laughs, and stepped
closer to take her hand gently in his. "Kimberly..." he
breathed.

"See, that's clue number four. You always call me by my
full name when you speak to me about non-work related
things. When, I think, you don't just see me as Kim, your
secretary. Separating who I am at the office, and who I am
personally."

"Like the difference between 'sir' and 'Walter'," he
suggested, and she nodded in agreement. They stood so close
together now she had to tilt her head up a little to look
into his eyes. He was a very large man, but she wasn't
petite, like Scully was. Still, though, he was taller by at
least a half-foot.

"Exactly. Would you like to know how I finally figured it
out?"

"Yes, my dear Watson, I would," he grinned.

Placing her hand on his broad chest, which she'd been dying
to do forever, she looked directly into his hot, dark eyes.
"I took your advice. While I took a little time for myself
in a bubble bath, I let myself imagine who I wanted my
secret admirer to be. The picture that came into my head
when I did so, was of you. Once I allowed myself to see us
like that, as lovers, instead of as friends, or boss-
assistant, then everything came together."

He groaned, and dropped his chin so his mouth was a breath
away from hers. "I think that's the sexiest vision I've
ever had. Buying you the bath oils conjured up all sorts of
images like that."

Kim's hand roamed up from his chest to his neck, where she
slid the palm of her hand along his nape, fingering his
fringe of hair. Still not kissing, but just about to, she
felt his arms come around her waist, and he pulled her
closer to his long, firm body.

"I've got lots of bubble bath left over, by the way," she
offered in what she hoped was a seductive tone. "Would you
like to join me there tonight?"

She felt, rather than heard, his answering "yes" as he
covered her mouth with his. Kim soon learned that his kiss
was a perfect reflection of who Walter Skinner was, at his
core. Both strong yet tender, forceful yet giving,
masculine yet romantic, sweet yet erotic. His lips played
along hers, experimenting, tasting, then his tongue ran
along the inner line as she parted them to invite him in
even further. As they deepened the kiss, tongues and
breaths exploding in a potent combustion of long-held-back
desire, his hands traveled up and down her spine, warming a
delicious path from her hair to her waist.

When they broke the kiss, both panting and glassy-eyed, she
stepped away from him, and led him to her bedroom. He let
her guide him, his eyes smoldering a passionate black. Just
outside the door, he stopped suddenly, biting his lip.
"Kim, wait."

"What's the matter?" she asked, very alarmed.

"We need to talk about this first. It's not that I don't
want this to happen, but..."

"Are you afraid this will affect our work relationship?" At
his frowning nod, she reached up and cupped his face in her
hands. "It won't, Walter. I need my job as much as you need
me to be there. I'm not Rebecca, I won't--"

He interjected, "I didn't sleep with her, Kim. She only
said I did because I wouldn't respond to her overtures. I
don't make a habit of seducing my secretaries."

Even though she knew it was probably not the right reaction
to his scowl, Kim couldn't suppress her laugh in time. "I'm
well aware of that. I've worked for you for almost eight
years, and if I hadn't asked you here tonight, I'd still be
waiting for you to make a move."

His eyebrow lifted. "You think you know me that well, hmm?"

"I think I'm an expert on you."

"Really?" he laughed, and folded her into his arms again,
his fears apparently appeased. "You know, there's one more
verse of the poem left. So tell me, Kimberly, what was
going to be the final gift that came with it?"

He had her there, Kim realized. She hadn't considered that.
Closing her eyes, she pursed her lips to help focus. When
she re-opened them, he was holding back a laugh at her
expression. Maybe her face was as easy to read to him as
his was to hers.

"An invitation to lunch," she said, half-guessing. "At the
French restaurant you took me to last year."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Damn, woman. Maybe you
should have been an agent. Your powers of deduction are
much better than half of my staff."

Laughing, Kim slipped out of his embrace to lead him the
rest of the way into her bedroom. "You're not the only
observant person in your office, Assistant Director
Skinner."

"I'm beginning to realize that, Ms. Cook," he replied,
grinning from ear to ear as he got to work on the small
buttons of her dress. Despite the largeness of his hands in
comparison to the daintiness of the buttons, he was able to
loosen them to her waist in very short order. Kim couldn't
even imagine how nimble those fingers were going to be on
the rest of her. "And, while this dress is outrageously
sexy on you, I think it's going to look even better as it
comes off."

"Would you like me to start running the bath?" she asked
breathlessly, once he let her up for air from another
lingering, lusty kiss.

"Later," he murmured against her neck, nibbling along her
collarbone as his hands slid the dress off her shoulders.
"Emma's at your mother's until tomorrow, right?"

"Right," she gasped as the night air left the tiniest of
chills along her bare back.

"Then we've got all night. I plan on making the most of
it," he whispered, his voice scratchy with desire. "I've
wanted to be with you like this for a long time, Kimberly.
You're not the only one with an active fantasy life, you
know."

Kim's mind completely shut down as Walter Skinner began to
make love to her. All thoughts, concerns, worries vanished
entirely as her body did all the work for her numbed brain
cells. Her skin sensitized under the heat of his lips, the
blood beneath buzzing up toward the surface. When her hands
fluttered up to touch him, he held them down at her sides.
*Let me*, was his unspoken command, and the long years of
following his directives compelled her to listen. Her dress
soon slid down in a pool of gray at her feet.

When he lifted his head to look at her again, she could
only stare up at him in wonder. He had to feel her heart
thudding heavily under his touch, she thought absently,
when his fingertips skimmed over the swell of her breast.
His gaze, focused and hungry, caught hers, and he smiled
that smile of pure delight she'd seen that day in the ice
cream shop. She bit her lip to hold back the moan when he
flicked open her bra hook. Fingers, hers and his, hooked
under the waistband of her panties, which soon joined the
rest of her clothes on the floor.

"Phenomenal," he said, his voice as hot and dark as burning
charcoal, when she stood before him naked, and it was the
first time Kim truly believed it. His thumbs skimmed
rhythmically over her nipples, and this time, the moan
escaped. Her knees shaky, she lifted her hands to his broad
shoulders and gripped, and in response he brought his mouth
to hers again, drawing the last of the air from her lungs
until her head was reeling.

He pressed her against his solid chest, and her hands went
to the bottom of his sweater to lift it off, but he growled
in her ear, "Not yet."

Kissing her repeatedly, he nudged her with his hip closer
to the bed, and sat himself on the edge of the mattress,
cradling her on his lap. She'd always felt safe, even
protected, with him, but here, like this...this was better.
Much better. The strength in his embrace underscored the
need in his kiss.

Then his hands began to move.

Powerful hands, skimming, stroking over her skin. Strong,
skilled fingers, exploring, caressing, arousing her beyond
reason. Hands that had passed her an unending truckload of
paper over the years. Hands that had fisted in helpless
anger whenever one of his agents was injured. That had,
just once, pressed against her back to hold her steady when
she wobbled with morning sickness in their office. That had
copied a poem of joy and pride to her. Those same hands
were now threatening to drive her insane with lust.

Impatiently, she pulled on the hem of his sweater, which he
didn't resist this time. Desperate to return some of the
pleasure he was bestowing on her, she found the scars and
the muscles and the man. None of Kim's fantasies, or the
years of looking at his chest hidden behind his white
starched shirts and proper silk ties, remotely prepared her
for the sight of him, all secrets laid bare. His torso was
firm and planed, his skin tanned to the color of golden
honey, his shoulders broader than seemed humanly possible.
Her curious fingers and lips explored a full chest of hair,
discovered more than a few imbedded scars, the wounds of
both a long-ago soldier, and a constant fighter for
justice. She caressed a pair of very sensitive nipples,
felt a heart thumping hard under his warm skin. He groaned
and sighed at multiple points during her thorough
examination, and she struggled to memorize those hot spots
for future reference.

After a time, he shifted them so she lay across the bed,
sweeping his fingers through her hair as he settled her
against the pillow, then drew back to finish undressing.
Kim had lit a few candles in here as well, as much for the
ambience as for the silent votive prayer that this would
happen, and now golden-tipped light swooped in and out of
the curves and angles of his muscular back and arms.
Unconsciously, her hand crept up to cover her breasts, and
he paused long enough to take it and kiss her fingertips.

"Please don't," he murmured. "Looking at you is often one
of the few pleasures of my day. And none of the fantasies I
pictured comes close to the reality of you."

The honesty in his smile pushed away the last of her
shyness. When his slacks and boxers slid to the floor, she
had to remind herself to breathe. How did he get so tanned
everywhere, she wondered dreamily. He looked like a bronzed
statue of a Greek god come to life. And to her utter carnal
glee, she discovered that Walter Skinner was...built to
proportion. "Talk about phenomenal," she said, her voice
thick.

He shot her a dangerous grin as her eyes ran up and down
the length and breadth of his remarkable body. When he slid
into her open arms, careful not to press his full weight
onto her, she saw that the tips of his ears were a faint
red. A little shyness ran through them both, she reflected.
It touched more profoundly than anything else so far on
this magical, mystical night.

When he twisted suddenly and rolled to the edge of the bed
to grab at something on the floor, she fretted that he had
changed his mind until he leaned back up, a condom in hand.

His raised eyebrow and deep lines around his mouth gave her
the dual amused and concerned reactions. "Did you think I
was leaving?"

No, she wasn't the only one who'd learned to read the
other's expression, was she? She smoothed her face back
into a smile, nodding at the foil packet in his hand. "I
forgot about that. I'm a little out of practice."

After placing the condom on the nightstand for later, he
wrapped his long arms around her and whispered in her hair,
"Not anymore, Kimberly."

Walter Skinner taught her a very valuable lesson that
night, one she never forgot. He showed her, in no uncertain
terms, that there was much more to life than hard work and
unending responsibilities. That she should always take time
to have fun, to relish the playground of the human body.
For long, thrilling minutes the only sounds Kim could hear
were their pounding heartbeats and a series of sighs and
murmurs. The outside world faded away as they explored each
other, as they teased and aroused and learned more about
each other than they had in all the years they'd worked
together. He found where she was most sensitive, the hollow
of her neck, the underside of her breast, the shallow oval
of skin between her thigh and her hip. She discovered a
ticklish spot along his collarbone, one particularly
sensitive muscle above his belly button, a soft area at the
top of his rear thigh that produced a hungry growl from him
when pressed just so.

As intense and thoughtful as only he could be, he was so
fixed on her pleasure that his own need took him by
surprise, his hips jerking toward her when she reached down
to stroke him, feeling him thick and hard in her palm.

She shivered, responding instinctively to the edgier
demand. With a throaty groan, he lifted his smooth head
from her chest, his eyes enveloping her in their brown
depths. His hand traveled down her belly to between her
damp thighs, pressing firmly into her heat.

"I want to see you go over." That familiar tone of
authority, coupled with a raw sexuality. His voice alone
nearly pushed her over the edge.

He devastated her with his dexterous fingers, as her
breathing pattern escalated well past his erratic one.
Watching as pleasure, desire, need all raced over her face,
his expressions mirrored hers. As his hand continued its
relentless journey against her, she climbed higher, closer,
with his name forming soundlessly on her lips, then
releasing on a lusty moan as she came. She tried to focus,
to capture this one moment in her memory for later
inspection, but felt it slip away mindlessly. Lost in a sea
of pleasure, only his rugged face was clear and familiar,
his sensual grin shining like a beacon to guide her back to
reality.

Her entire body shuddered as his tongue paved a hot, wet
path along her skin, tormenting her all over again. She
wanted more. Wanted all of him, the last secret revealed.
"Walter." She gripped his bicep, felt his muscles bunched
up under his skin as he fought to keep his own cravings
under control. "Please."

His fingers brushed a sweaty strand of hair off her
forehead, while his lips covered hers in the most tender of
kisses. "Yes," he murmured, and positioned himself between
her legs. His hand left her cheek to fumble toward the
nightstand, and soon he reared up on his knees to put on
the condom. Missing the heat of his body, she sat up and
took the wrapper from his fingers.

"Let me do it," she said, and he stifled a moan when her
fingers rolled the latex down his hard length. He grasped
her wrist to still her hand when she tried to stroke him.

"Do that again and the condom will be a moot point," he
warned in a tone that blended his AD Skinner bark and his
Walter gentleness.

"Yes, sir," she teased. Their mutual laughter shifted into
long, satisfied groans within moments of laying back onto
the bed. That first shock of pleasure as he buried himself
inside her rocked them both to their foundations. He
touched her in places she didn't even know she had. When
they began to move, they moved as one, smoothly, as if
they'd only been waiting for the other to start the dance
of intimate possession.

She stroked his shoulders, his back, ran her fingers over
his scalp as he moaned against her neck, his teeth nipping
and his soft lips soothing the tiny dart of pain. While he
brought her closer to the edge, climbing higher with her,
every muscle in her body tightened in preparation for the
blissful fall into the abyss, and his even strokes rapidly
increased in response, resonating deep in her as the last
of his restraint ebbed away.

He watched her eyes as she bucked up to meet his thrusts,
as she gyrated under his solid frame, as she took him in
deeper, faster, his face a shifting kaleidoscope of
emotions, all positive, that jumbled together in a blurry
haze in her mind. Later, when she could think clearly, she
would try to decipher each one.

"Oh God...Kimberly..." he shuddered against her as she
came, then felt him pulse deep inside, like a heartbeat
hammering wildly in time with her own. He followed her over
the edge, pressing against her, in her, weightlessly. Their
sweating, shivering bodies collapsed together in a tangled
heap of limbs and breaths and dazed smiles.

Hours later, their bodies and stomachs sated, they lay
together in a liquid embrace in her bathtub. The scent of
sandalwood drifted across the warm air. Empty plates from a
re-heated dinner sat on the floor by the claw feet of the
tub.

"Happy?" Walter murmured in her ear, his arms around her
protectively, his wet chest hairs tickling her back.

Kim tipped her head against his shoulder. "Mmmmm...very."
And giggled.

"Why was that funny?"

"Mulder asked that very question a few months ago. At the
time, I didn't know how to answer it."

Skimming his mouth down the side of her neck, he mused,
"Ah, that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Why he stormed into my office one evening, after you were
gone for the day. He started ranting at me for treating you
badly, said I couldn't see what was right under my nose.
Challenging me to do something to let you know how I felt.
But, honestly, Kimberly, even I hadn't figured it out."

She twisted so she could look into his eyes. His voice
sounded regretful, and it caused a minor tremor of worry in
her. "What do you mean?"

"I may be an observant person, but not when it comes to my
own feelings," he explained, stroking her cheek. "I bought
the flowers initially because I wanted to let you know how
much I appreciated what you do in the office, thinking
that's what Mulder was talking about. It was only going to
be a one-time thing. But when I went to write the note, I
blanked. Didn't know what to say. The next thing I knew,
the first verse of the poem was on the card. I didn't even
think about what I was writing, or what it meant. It just
described you so well, it seemed ideal. But I didn't sign
it because it seemed rather forward for an employer to give
to his employee. Even his most favorite employee."

"Well, if it helps, you're my favorite employer," she
teased. "And it's my favorite poem."

He grinned. "Mine too. When I saw the extraordinary look on
your face as you came into the office that morning, it
changed everything for me. I'd never seen you look so
radiant. You were brimming with happiness, Kimberly, and I
wanted to see that look on your face as often as possible.
So I suggested the secret admirer idea to you. That way, if
you didn't feel the same way toward me, I didn't have to
cause either of us any embarrassment."

He curled a damp strand of her hair around his finger, his
gaze dipping to the water line. "I really didn't have any
intention of telling you it was me. But when you told me
you thought the poem was sexy, well that just hit me like a
ton of bricks. I don't think it was until that very moment
that I realized what I truly felt for you. It wasn't just
concern, or fondness, or appreciation, although I did, and
do, feel all of that for you." His eyes lifted to meet
hers, the brown sparkling with heat. "I wanted you badly,
and I had for years."

"Y-years?" she repeated shakily, unable to believe they'd
both been in denial for so long.

"Yes, years," he answered. "And it really bothered me that
you didn't see how amazing you are. At least, that's what I
told myself when I got you the scarf and the bubble bath. I
wanted you to remember that you were a woman, and a very
alluring one, at that."

"Well, it did the trick," she beamed. "You're right, I did
forget that part of me. My life doesn't really have room in
it for me. Emma's kind of a handful, and there's just so
many hours in a day."

*Oh damn*, she realized with dismay, *I just opened mouth,
inserted foot.* Bringing a harsh reality check into this
wonderful fantasy, what was she doing?

They both fell silent, and Kim turned so she lay against
his chest again. He extended his arms out, resting them on
her bent knees peeking out of the water, and she ran her
hands down the soapy length of them until their palms lay
flat against each other. Intertwining their fingers, he
wrapped his arms back around her, hugging her tightly to
him.

"Do you think she'll mind if there's someone else around
here now?" he asked.

While she'd been thinking about that quite a bit, she'd
hadn't anticipated the uncertainty in his tone. Or the
thrill that ran through her veins when she fully
comprehended what he was asking. Squeezing his hands, she
said firmly, "I think Emma and I would be thrilled to have
a big bear in our lives. Two, actually, if we count Andy
downstairs."

He laughed, his deep rich one, and Kim snuggled in a little
closer. "Maybe an extra pair of hands in the morning will
help you get into work on time, Ms. Cook," he teased.

"Maybe so, maybe so," she giggled, the thrill racing her
pulse even faster. "I'm thinking you can probably make a
mean PB&J for her lunch box."

For her joke, she was treated to another deep laugh
vibrating against her neck. They sat that way for a bit,
relishing the moment, the connection, and the utter
decadence of the bubble bath. Both of them were practical,
cautious, hard-working people, not familiar with
indulgences or flights of whimsy. But, as both had learned
over the last two months and especially tonight, there was
a strong streak of sensuality that ran in each of them. Kim
decided that she was going to have to thank Mulder heartily
for prodding Walter to action. She knew exactly what to do
for him, too.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said, one last mystery
still unexplored.

"Mmmm...sure," Walter replied, absently rubbing his cheek
against her hair.

"When did you change your mind and decide to tell me it was
you?"

He chuckled against her ear, nuzzling her neck before
answering. "While I was in Florida. Mulder made some smart-
ass comment about my rental car, that it was much better
than the one that he and Scully had. Lots of leg room, and
top of the line, he pointed out. I hadn't even noticed,
because it was the type you always reserve for me. Then I
started to really see the arrangements you'd made. I looked
around the hotel room, and it was the nicest in the whole
place. Room service brought me a fresh pot of strong coffee
every morning without my asking. And I finally realized how
much effort you put into making sure I was comfortable at
all times, both in the office and on the road. I've had a
lot of secretaries, Kimberly, and not one of them put half
as much thought and care into my well-being. It occurred to
me that perhaps I had a secret admirer of my own."

"Perhaps you did," she agreed. "Jeez, I thought you'd never
figure it out. Maybe if I'd included a hot, lusty poem you
would have sooner."

"Told you I was not that observant when it comes to
myself," he laughed. "But I still owe you something, my
dear. Lean back and enjoy." As Walter Skinner held her
tightly under the bubbles, he gave her the final gift as
her secret admirer, and the first as her lover.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

THE END

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