From: "Kate M." <sibcat@concentric.net>

Catharsis
part 4
F/F, Scully/Other

AUTHOR: Kate M. <sibcat@concentric.net>
RATING: NC-17

See Part 1 for disclaimers and copyright info.


--start part 4--

******

9:15 p.m.
La Dolce Femme nightclub

"Wait," Scully said, stopping outside the club.

"What?"  Gwen turned to see Scully craning her neck and squinting up
at the sign on the building.

"The name of this place.  'La Dolce' is Italian.  'Femme' is French."

Gwen stared blankly.  "And?"

"I somehow doubt that was intentional."

"And?"

"Well, perhaps that reflects on the intelligence of the clientele."

Gwen rolled her eyes.  "Oh, no you don't.  No backing out now.  C'mon.
Just pretend it's an especially cosmopolitan place."

Gwen turned back toward the club.

"They should have called it 'Cherchez La Femme.' Or even 'Les Femmes,
Les Biches.' Something more interesting.  Something that was all the
same language, at least."

Gwen, who had reached the door, bellowed over her shoulder. "Who
*cares,* Dr. Scully?"  She held out her hand.

Scully sighed and joined Gwen at the entrance to the club, taking her
hand after a moment's hesitation.

"Oooh, boy," Scully hooted as Gwen dragged her through a door covered
with feather boas.

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."  Gwen laughed, and "vogued" a
little, pulling a feather boa around her neck and batting her
eyelashes.  Scully didn't even try to hold back the giggle that
bubbled up from some tucked-away, patiently waiting place.  She
squeezed Gwen's hand, and Gwen squeezed hers back.

The club was decidedly fabulous-looking, with disco balls aplenty and
no shortage of sequins, feathers, and bright colors.  Oddly enough,
there were only a few drag queens scattered around the room; most of
the denizens were women, some of them looking like they'd probably
never consider "voguing" for anyone.

"Interesting study in contrasts," Scully muttered, raising an eyebrow.

"It's nice, I think.  It kind of brings together two aspects of gay
culture that don't have much in common, other than their own
oppression."  Gwen waved at someone at the bar.

"Hmm.  Well, politics aside, I hope the bar is well-stocked.  I need a
drink or three."  Scully felt a little uncomfortable as she caught the
interested stares of a few women who were sitting at the bar.

"Uh-oh, look out ladies," Gwen said loudly.  "The doctor is in the
hay-ouse, and she plans to get medicated tonight."

Scully gave her a friendly slap on the arm and went to the bar.  She
ordered a double vodka and tonic, and her manner was officious enough
to make the queen behind the bar make a face and give her a wink.  She
raised a sharp eyebrow, and he ceased his antics.

They sat at a table in a fairly quiet corner, after Scully insisted
that she didn't want to hang out at the bar.  "You know, if we just
sit and stare at each other, everyone's going to think we're a
couple," Gwen said after a while.

Scully tried to decide whether Gwen was happy about that, or
uncomfortable with it, but couldn't read her face.

"Well, maybe that's okay," Scully said.  "I'm beginning to wonder
whether I really want to be here, and I'm beginning to think there was
more than amaretto in that mocha of yours."

"Just a lot of genuine friendliness," Gwen said softly.  "And as for
whether you want to be here, well...I think you'd better decide that
as soon as possible." Gwen angled her head toward the bar.

A woman was marching straight toward them with a slight smile on her
face.  She was tall, sleek, and strong-looking.  Her black hair was
short and tousled. And her eyes, the bright green of them visible even
from a distance, were almost as inviting as Gwen's.

After crossing the distance with a grace that made it clear that she
hadn't been drowning her sorrows at the bar, the woman placed her
hands on the table.  She nodded at Gwen, then leaned toward Scully.
"I know you just got here, but I don't think I can wait any longer to
ask you to dance."

Scully blushed bright red, but she somehow stood up, smiled faintly,
and nodded.

"Have fun, girls," Gwen called after them as they walked to the dance
floor.

{{God, it's been years since I last went dancing,}} Scully thought to
herself.  {{At least it's a slow song.}}

She soon realized that a slow song was not necessarily better.  The
woman stopped in a fairly empty part of the floor and turned toward
Scully, her arms extended.  Scully stepped into them a little, shyly,
and tried to look like she knew what she was doing. She managed to
settle into a comfortable position, but touched the woman only as much
as she had to in order to avoid seeming like a cold fish.

The woman gave her a quizzical look and pulled her a little closer.
Scully blushed harder and tried to smile.  The woman smiled back,
warmly.

"My name is Lynn, by the way."

"Lynn.  That's a pretty name."  Scully knew that probably sounded
hokey, but she meant it and felt compelled to say it.  "I'm Dana."

"Dana, I don't want to seem pushy, but you're the most beautiful woman
I've ever seen in this place.  And I'm here a lot."  Her smile
broadened, lighting up her bright eyes even more.  "That probably
sounded like a pick-up line, didn't it?"

"Yes, but...thank you.  You're easily the most beautiful woman I've
ever seen here too, but...I've never been here before tonight, and
I've only glanced at a few other faces."

"Gee, thanks."  Lynn laughed a husky, dark laugh that made Scully feel
a little weak.

{{What is with me lately?  I'm acting positively pubescent.  When's
the last time someone's voice made me feel...anything?}}

They danced in silence for a while.  Scully found it strange to not be
"led"; it was obvious to her that dancing with women was quite
different from dancing with men.  She tried to match Lynn's rhythm,
tried to sense her movements ahead of time.  She found herself trying
to channel the beat through her fingertips, which were resting lightly
on Lynn's soft green cotton shirt, a green that was, impossibly, as
sea-soft as her eyes.

Scully cleared her throat and tried to pull herself back, to maintain
a little distance from both Lynn and the subtle heat that had started
to bundle up in her belly.

"Well, I'm never sure how to start conversations like this," Lynn
said.

"Do you have lots of conversations like this?" Scully regretted the
words as soon as she said them.

"Ah, no, actually.  That is, not do-or-die conversations, not quite to
this degree."  Lynn held Scully's gaze and narrowed her eyes a little.

"Do-or-die?"  Scully did not take her eyes from Lynn's.  She felt both
comforted and puzzled by the soft green warmth that was somehow cool
around the edges.

"Yes, do-or-die. Do I know how to make this gorgeous woman feel
comfortable, or will I die from the sheer pain of rejection?" Lynn
explained.

Scully laughed, but then frowned a little.  "Do I really seem that
hard to please?"

"Let's just say that it looks like you'll be worth the effort."

The words sent a ripple up Scully's spine, and for a moment she
thought she would run off the dance floor and out the door. Instead,
she leaned into the feeling, tried to connect with it without flying
apart.

"What do you do, Lynn?"

"Oh, no you don't."

"I'm sorry?"

"None of that banal getting-to-know-you, what-do-you-do,
where-are-you-from-talk. There'll be plenty of time for that later.  I
want to know more interesting things, like what you think of when you
turn out the lights and fall into bed at the end of a hard day."

"I...um..." Scully's most recent dream flashed before her eyes. She
shook her head to chase it away.  "I think about a lot of things, I
guess.  My job and the fact that I work too much.  My apartment and
the fact that I'd rather live in a house."

"Hmm. Well, not quite banal, but not quite scintillating either.  What
else?"  There was a glint in Lynn's eyes.  Scully couldn't tell if it
sprang from mockery or affection.

Challenged and frustrated, Scully reached deep down into the bravery
she usually had no trouble calling upon at work, and blurted, "And I
think about sex."

Lynn smiled and pulled her even closer.

"What kind of sex do you think about, Dana?"  The deep heartiness was
in Lynn's voice again, and it gave Scully the courage to continue.

"Well..." The dream fluttered through her mind again.  Scully closed
her eyes briefly and could see the leather-clad woman on the inside of
her eyelids.  Startled, she snapped them open, and was relieved to see
the gentle curiosity in Lynn's eyes.

"I guess I would call it...adventurous."

Lynn chuckled softly.  "Good."

In a smooth, graceful move, Lynn's fingers soared up to her neck and
pulled out the necklace that was hidden under her collar. Scully
stared at it blankly until she realized that the chain was threaded
through an impossibly tiny pair of handcuffs.

Scully blushed fiercely then, but tried to stay calm.  "It appears we
have...similar interests."

"That's always a good start to a relationship," Lynn smiled.

The word "relationship" made Scully freeze in her tracks.  {{Is that
what I'm here for?  A relationship?}}  Something pulled her eyes back
to the table she and Gwen had been sitting at, as if she could find an
answer there.  But Gwen was nowhere near it.  Scully turned back to
Lynn, who was giving her a confused look.  "Are we done dancing all of
a sudden?"

"Um, Lynn, I'm not really looking--"

"Relax, Dana, I don't mean 'relationship' as in whether our house
should have two bedrooms or three.  I mean it in the sense of relating
to each other, within whatever parameters we both care to define."

Scully admitted to herself that she liked the logic and openness of
that idea.  So she nodded and gave Lynn a faint smile.

They danced in silence for a while, neither of them sure what to say.
The pulsing music was trance-inducing, and without realizing it,
Scully pushed herself into Lynn's arms a little more, feeling the
strength of them beneath the soft cotton.

She danced with her eyes closed, enjoying the strange vibrancy she was
beginning to feel, letting it spread through her body.  She leaned her
head against Lynn's shoulder.

Just as she felt Lynn's fingers slide to the middle of her back and
then dip inside the waistband of her jeans, the music surged into
something acrid and angry.

"Damn," Lynn breathed, stepping back, a thoroughly disappointed look
on her face.  "So much for that, I guess.  Talk about spoiling the
mood."

"Yeah," Scully shrugged.  She stared at the floor, thrilled and
uncertain.

"Well, should we have a seat at a table or something?" Lynn extended
her hand.

Scully took it, immediately liking the soft strength she felt there,
and shook her head.  "Is there someplace else we can go?  I'm not
feeling all that fond of this place."

At that, Lynn broke into a broad smile.  "Sure.  Do you have anything
specific in mind?"

"Just somewhere we can...well, finish what we started."

Scully could scarcely believe she'd said the words.  But the look on
Lynn's face confirmed that the message was loud and clear.

"Okay, follow me."

"Wait, I'd better let Gwen know I'm leaving."  Scully again looked
over to their table, but Gwen was not there.  She scanned the dance
floor and saw somebody who looked like Gwen, but who was somehow
different--more carefree, almost transported, dancing wildly to the
insistent beat.

"I don't think she'll worry about you," she heard Lynn say into her
ear.  Scully turned, again enthralled by the deep voice.  She smiled
and nodded.

She let Lynn lead her out of the club and into the parking lot, where
they stopped almost immediately at a black Yamaha motorcycle.

"Wow." Scully was both impressed and amused.

"Such a cliche, I know," Lynn laughed, "but I do like my bike."

Scully watched as Lynn slid onto the seat and started the motor.

"Well, have a seat, Dana."  Lynn patted the seat behind her.

Scully tried to get on the bike gracefully, but slipped a little, and
grabbed Lynn's shoulders to steady herself.  Lynn took Scully's hands
from her shoulders and pulled them around her waist.

"Ready?"

"Ready," Scully said, too loudly.

--end part 4--