The Glass Onion Text too small or too big? You can change it! Ctrl+ (bigger), Ctrl- (smaller)
or click on View in your browser and look for font or text size settings.

Home/Quicksearch  +   Random  +   Upload  +   Search  +   Contact  +   GO List

Working Girl

by Maidenjedi

     Subject: Working Girl by Maidenjedi (XF, 1/1)
     Date: Thursday, May 29, 2003 4:31 PM
     TITLE:  Working Girl
     AUTHOR:  Maidenjedi <texgoddess@yahoo.com>
     RATING: R for language
     KEYWORDS: Doggett/Kersh's Assistant
     DISCLAIMER:  Not mine.  Wish they were.
     SPOILERS:  Alone
     SUMMARY:  None of them had ever held her hand.
     ARCHIVE:  List archives only, all others by permission.

AUTHORS NOTES: Written for the Doggett Manwhore Challenge. Inspired partially by the discussions on the Harem list about Kersh's Assistant - what the heck is her name, anyway? Oh, and just for kicks, please assume that any reports of Agent Pendrell's death were highly exaggerated.

For Deslea, Vanzetti, Meridy, Spica, and Kristen. I love you guys.

Dedicated to Michael, because they all are and always will be.


She had overheard a conversation not long ago, one of those fabled locker room conversations between a few of the male agents at the Bureau. It had been down outside the accounting offices on the second floor - she had been picking something up for the deputy director - it was Agent Colton and a couple of men she wasn't familiar with. She'd passed Tom and given him her sexiest smile. They'd had a thing, on and off, usually in copy rooms or empty elevators and once in a standard Bureau-issue Suburban. That day she'd been dressed in a white blouse and black skirt, and the skirt was probably a little short for a Bureau employee and she thought maybe the straps on her garter belt had shown.

She'd rounded a corner and stopped at a water fountain. Her latest conquest had come up behind her, given her ass a squeeze and told her to meet him at four in their usual place. She'd turned around to tell Agent Jackson she couldn't make it, she had a meeting, but the whispered sound of her name distracted her. Jackson had smirked at her, thinking she was coyly protesting, and walked off. She was, on the contrary, frozen on the spot.

"Yeah, we had a thing. She's a sweet little tart when it gets down to it, gives great head."

"Really? I heard she was sloppy, inexperienced."

"Who'd you hear that from?"

"Oh, around." The voice was amused. "Think she'd go in for a little training? I've been told I'm quite gentle."

Laughter.

"I've heard she's been with half the guys in V.C."

"I heard the same about forensics. I heard she popped Pendrell's cherry."

More laughter, though to her ears, it was beginning to sound like maniacal giggling.

She'd had enough. She went back up to Kersh's office and didn't move from behind her desk the rest of the day. She took messages, passed on messages, gave instructions to various agents, stood guard as usual during the weekly directors' meeting, and accepted various reports. She got up to get coffee, once, and a long run tore up the back of her left stocking.

Her mother called mid-afternoon, to remind her of her little brother's graduation from law school that coming weekend. She'd said of course she'd be there, she wouldn't miss it, and no she wouldn't be bringing anyone special.

Agent Summers from Violent Crimes walked by and winked at her while she talking to her mother. Her stomach turned.

There never was anyone special.

Weeks went by and she was too busy to think about that conversation she'd overheard, much less to spend time seducing anyone or letting herself be seduced. She wasn't as bad as those guys had said, anyway. Sure, she'd gone down on a couple of guys, and she'd slept with a few, but this job was all the life she had. She was the assistant to the deputy director, and with the sorts of assignments that passed her desk and on to his charges, she was entitled to a little release now and again.

She was no slut.

Nevertheless, she took to wearing slacks or the longest skirts she could find. She stopped wearing white blouses without a jacket or blazer. She stopped wearing red lipstick and opted for the muted rose her mother gave her to wear the weekend of her brother's commencement.

It was probably a month later that something happened. Something distinctly out-of-place in the life she was used to leading.

Agent Doggett came out of Kersh's office wearing the look that most people did when standing in that doorway. His brow was furrowed, his gaze focused at a point on the floor, and if he'd been a woman he would have crossed his arms or stood with his hands on his hips. She knew this look well, and had seen Agent Doggett like this plenty of times since he'd taken over the X-files office in the basement. She wondered what was wrong - Agent Scully was on maternity leave, her crackpot partner had finally been fired (though how he'd even come to that from being dead was just more fuel for the gossips in the secretarial pool), and Agent Doggett had the office downstairs to himself now that the blonde from accounting had called it quits, too.

She took a call. "Deputy Director Kersh's office -yes, Agent Ruiz was here this morning, she dropped off - yes, of course, I can have the deputy director -he's in a meeting, I can - yes, I understand. Of course."

And another. "Deputy Director - yes, assistant director, he's in - no, he's in a meeting right now, can I have him -"

A.D. Maslin had never been a patient one.

She blew her bangs out of her face and reached for a pad and pen to write these latest calls down. Kersh would want to know exactly who had hung up and what they'd sounded like.

She looked up to see Agent Doggett still standing in the doorway, shoving his hands in his pockets and blowing out a quiet sigh.

"Agent Doggett? Can I help you?"

He looked up at her, his scowl relaxing a little. "I'm fine."

He didn't move. Just stood there, staring, now at her instead of at his shoes. His expression was still firm, intent, but now it lacked the annoyance. He looked like he was going to....

"Would you like to get a cup of coffee with me?"

She'd been hit on by nearly every man who had come through this office, and on one memorable occasion by a woman. She'd accepted dozens of similar offers, all of which had landed her in compromising positions, all of which had led up to that horrible day a month ago.

Looking into Agent Doggett's sparkling blue eyes, all of that flew from her mind.

"Sure."

"Now?"

She looked at her watch. "It's almost noon, Agent Doggett, I'll be taking lunch soon..."

"Lunch, then."

He gave her the smallest smile and she felt the last vestige of resolve melt away...and loosen her thigh muscles just a bit. "Alright."

"Meet me here in thirty?"

She glanced at the door behind him, and then at her phone. "How 'bout I meet you downstairs?"

It was the boldest statement she'd made in weeks.

Doggett's smile grew wider, and some of the tension left his stance. "Sure. Half an hour."

She nodded. He turned and walked away, down the hall to the elevator.

Her phone rang and she took a message from Senator Lott's office concerning a lunch he was scheduled to have with Kersh in a week. She wrote everything down, and gathered her notes before going into Kersh's office.

She gave him the run-down, and took some notes from him. He was in a particularly bad mood, it seemed, probably from his meeting with Agent Doggett. She was to hold all calls for the rest of the day, and the only visitors he would see outside of his scheduled meetings were A.D. Follmer and A.D. Maslin. He told her he would tolerate no interruptions from Doggett or even his erstwhile partner, Agent Scully. His assistant refrained from reminding him that Agent Scully was on maternity leave.

"Oh, and if Assistant Director Skinner calls, tell him I have handled the situation as I see fit."

She nodded. "Is that all?"

"Yes. I'm going to lunch. I shouldn't be more than an hour."

"Very good, sir." She stood up and left the office. She put away her things and got out her purse. She ran down the hall to a ladies' restroom and fixed her rose lipstick, smoothed her jacket and knee-length skirt. This was a familiar routine, she didn't have to think about it.

Passing the copy room on the way to the elevator gave her a sinking feeling. Now she was thinking about it. Hands on her thighs, up her blouse, buried in her hair. Lips tugging on her bra, sucking at her earlobes, whispering things about what he'd like to do to her and in what position he intended to do it in.

She suddenly didn't feel much like eating.

She went back to her desk, her ears burning with all the things that weasel Colton had said, the maniacal giggling flooding back to her in waves. She wasn't going to be that girl anymore, not even for that piercing blue stare.

She sat down and got out an emergency packet of peanut butter crackers from the third drawer down on the left, where her various personal things were kept. A hairbrush, a travel-sized hairspray, a roll-on bottle of Avon's Soft Musk.

Her phone rang but she ignored it. Kersh was out, and as far as anyone was concerned, so was she. She wanted a break even if she had no intention of leaving to do it.

A good ten minutes passed in silence, and she finished her snack only to find that she was actually really hungry. She looked at her watch and figured she ought to at least hit the cafeteria while she had time -Kersh was in the kind of mood that meant she wouldn't get home in time for E.R.

She got up and made her way down the hall to the elevator. The floor was practically deserted, since there was no bullpen, just executive offices. She pressed the down button impatiently.

The elevator doors opened to reveal that familiar scowl, pointed at his shoes. Blue eyes squinting because he was lost in thought.

He looked up at her and that small smile returned.

"I thought you weren't coming."

I wasn't, she thought.

"Well, I...."

"Listen, we don't have to do this. I just wanted a little company, and you looked as though you wanted some, too..."

"Oh."

Oh.

"We could...we could go downstairs, to the cafeteria." She really didn't want to, not with him, not where everyone would see and where whispered rumors might take shape.

"I've got some microwave lasagna down in my office. There's enough to split." He stared into her face, his gaze not once deviating down to her breasts or her legs.

It took maybe five seconds. "Okay. Sounds great."

She'd been down to the basement plenty of times, and not once had it been with guy. She figured this was safe. Besides, Agent Doggett spent the elevator ride at least four feet away from her, and not even looking at her. She could share some lasagna with him and get back to work without incident.

The basement office was different from what she recalled. Agent Spender had kept a tight ship, and Agent Mulder - well, looking at the wall behind the desk, she could tell that Agent Mulder's presence still lingered here.

Agent Doggett - she supposed she should call him John - set about heating up the lasagna and cleared off a chair for her to sit in. She took off her jacket and wished for a moment that she hadn't chosen to wear white, but decided she wasn't clumsy enough to get pasta sauce on it anyway. Her fingers itched to go through and neaten the files lying around, because she really didn't like clutter. It was one of the things that made her such an effective and successful assistant. She kept her hands to herself, though, and simply accepted the paper plate of lasagna that Agent - John - handed her.

"Vegetarian?" she asked.

"No," he said, smiling. "I'm a meat and potatoes kind of guy. Did you want something else? I think Agent Scully left half a salad in that fridge, but I don't know how old it is."

She wrinkled her nose and took a big bite of the meaty lasagna. Swallowing, she said, "No, this is fine." She gulped and reached for the coffee cup of water John had set on the desk for her. "It's hot, but I prefer meat as well."

It came out sounding more flirtatious than she intended. Her eyes widened as she realized it and looked down to concentrate on the food. When she dared a look up at John, she saw that he was doing the same, and didn't seem to have noticed what she said.

They made amiable conversation between bites, mostly concerning the weather, the Orioles, and Nascar.

"My favorite driver is Jeff Gordon. My dad knew his dad in high school."

It was John's turn to make a face.

"Gordon? He's too publicity driven for my taste. I don't really have a favorite, I just like to watch the races."

She laughed. This was more normal conversation than she'd had since...well, she couldn't remember when. But she was done eating, and Kersh hated coming back to find his assistant gone.

"I need to get back."

"Alright. Here, let me take that...." He reached for her plate.

"No, it's fine, I can...."

His hand knocked hers, and the plate, still covered in leftover sauce and cheese, pressed up against her blouse.

"I'm sorry, here, let me wipe..." John reached toward her with a napkin in hand, and her reaction was swift. She didn't stop to think that he was trying to help. She just reacted.

Her hand left a wide red mark on his cheek.

She gaped at him, then at her hand. "I...I'm...."

He stood up straight and touched his cheek. He was quiet for a long moment, then shook his head and smiled that little smile of his.

"It's alright. Look, take the napkin, there's a sink around that corner. I'll look to see if Agent Scully left any blouses around here." He reached out again with the napkin, this time pressing it into her hand. He lingered for a moment and squeezed her hand, looking her in the eyes the entire time. "It really is okay. I get it."

She smiled half-heartedly back at him, and looked down at their hands, still linked. "Okay."

"Go wash up. I'll look for that blouse."

She went around to the sink and got the biggest blotches of sauce off. Her mother's warnings about scrubbing stains without soap echoed in her head and she left it at that. When she went back around the corner, John was holding a wrinkled blue blouse.

"Here you go. It's wrinkled."

"That's fine. I've got my blazer." She took the shirt and her blazer and went back to the sink to change.

She came back out, the blue blouse hugging her tightly. She was doubly glad for the blazer, and for John's - Agent Doggett's - modest gaze.

"I've got to get back."

"Can I see you up there?"

"No, I, um....that's alright. Thank you for lunch. I'm s-"

"No, don't apologize. Just say you'll come to dinner with me when you get off tonight, and we'll call it even. I've never had a woman slap me and then look quite like you did." He stopped here, kind of abruptly like he wanted to say something else.

She shifted restlessly, trying to decide. He was being too good to be true, and she wasn't willing to give up the shrinking violet routine this quickly.

"Agent Doggett -"

"John." He looked at her, staring intensely at her face once more.

"John. I -"

He closed the gap between them and took her hand in his. He looked her in the eyes, and she felt the tension melt the same as before, and felt her thighs loosen at the depth and shade of that gaze.

"Okay. How does nine-thirty sound?

John Doggett smiled. "Great."

THE END


A/N: Well, it's hokey, and it isn't the hot smut that the Manwhore Challenge probably deserves, but it's the plot bunny that attacked and I had to say yes. Might as well get my fluff out while I can - the Marita-William Epic is calling my name at long last.

Feedback/criticism always welcome at texgoddessatyahoodotcom.

"I don't enjoy dumb TV. I believe Aaron Spelling has single-handedly lowered SAT scores." - Joss Whedon

fic - http://users.pdsys.org/~maidenjedi sam houston motor lodge recs - http://users.pdsys.org/~maidenjedi/fanfic2.html


If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Maidenjedi

Home/QuickSearch  +   Random  +   Upload  +   Search  +   Contact  +   GO List