First Impressions

Title: First Impressions

Summary: Pre X Files. Walter Skinner goes to one of his wife's boring parties, and finds a way to pass the time.

Pairing: Sk/Other

Disclaimer: Walter and Sharonnnernner belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox. I'm not making any cash out of this little bit of smut; I just enjoy playing god with Walt's life.

Feedback: Yes please! This will eventually be part of a larger story, which is yet unfinished. But let me know what you think... sexychaynne@aemail4u.com

First Impressions

I remember the first time I ever set eyes on Walter Skinner was at a party my husband was invited to, about fifteen years ago.didndidn't want to go, but Brian insisted. I was his trophy wife and he had to show me off. His major act of rebellion was marrying a black woman. All his white friends quietly shunned us. Brian stopped being invited out so much. He didn't understand it. But I was used to it. Back then, interracial couples were the exception, not the norm. So, that's why Brian insisted that I went to all the functions that he went to, just to show his narrow minded little world that we were going to last. That I wasn't just part of Brian's mid-life crisis.

I mostly remember being tired back then, and lonely. The affluent DC suburb area of Glasgow Park was a long way from my modest Miami home. Brian had come down to Miami on business, to speak at a teaching seminar. We met in the coffee shop I waitressed in between classes, and as soon as I graduated, he wined, dined and swept me away to Washington DC to his world.

Washington DC and life with Brian was nothing like I'd imagined it. Nothing like Brian had implied. After two years, I had no friends there, and he didn't want me to go out and work. Guilliam women didn't work; they stayed at home and did charitable things. I objected to that line of thinking. Just 'cause I was a black woman, it didn't mean I was going to automatically start doing other people's fucking laundry. I wanted to teach. I had a brand new spanking degree in teaching; I had only been waitressing 'cause I had to pay the s. Bs. But no matter how much I begged, Brian wouldn't let me work. So I started doing charity. There was a group of ladies that met every week to do good for the homeless of Washington DC.

That's how I met Sharon Skinner. She was the chaian oan of the committee. In the committee pecking order, as the newest member, hardly any of the members actually *talked* to me, but were all perfectly civil. So, Sharon Skinner and I weren't exactly bosom buddies, but merely nodding acquaintances.

Sharon Skinner was giving a party in honour of a bigwig on Brian's faculty. It was to be held at Brian's country club. I didn't particularly want to go to it, but I knew I had to for my husband's sake. Sharon was a good friend of Brian's, so as soon as we came in, she came over and introduced us to her husband, who looked as bored as I felt. Brian, shook his hand, and spotted one of his professor friends across the room. He went across to talk to him, leaving me, Walt and Sharon alone. At that point someone else commanded her attention, so she left us alone.

Walter Skinner was tall and very masculine. Square jawed, with soft brown eyes, and lips I found myself itching to kiss. I have to admit, his shirt and slacks couldn't quite conceal his muscular chest, trim waist or nicely muscled butt. He was nothing like bookish Brian.

"So, you got drafted in for party duty too, huh?" he quipped. I smiled. He had a soothing voice. A bedroom voice. I liked it. He sounded nothing like Brian either. He looked me up and down, assessing me in my black spaghetti strap floor length dress. I don't think that he was totally aware he was doing it, aware he was doing that masculine thing of assessing a woman for her looks before talking to her. Strangely enough, I didn't mind him doing it.

"I had no choice. My husband insisted," I sighed.

"Well, I guess he's a jealous man. I'm not sure I could leave you home alone. Then again, if I were him, we wouldn't be here," he replied, his voice dropping so that I was the only one to hear that last comment. The desire in Walt's eyes was plain to see. I blushed. After two years of being practically ignored by Brian, (except for our non-inspiring Friday night fuck), it felt good to be looked at by a man who so obviously was in lust with me. Flirting with strangers wasn't a thing I usually did, but hey, I'm usually game to try anything once.

"Your wife is a lucky woman," I told him in return. I wanted to see where things stood between him and his prissy wife.

"Sometimes I wish she'd notice that," he replied, more to himself than me. I pretended not to notice, but the bitchy side of me was rejoicing. Sharon Skinner was a fool to ignore hergeougeous husband. He seemed to be a patient man, but even patient people got fed up in the end.

In silence we watched the party unfold around us. Two middle-aged women discussed their promiscuous teenaged daughters. Brian's boss was drunk again, and was in the corner, trying to grope the head of the History department's Personal Assistant. Brian himself was talking earnestly to some poor girl I recognised as a junior researcher in thelishlish department, who looked like she desperately wanted someone to come and rescue her.

"Would you like a drink?" Walt's voice startled me out of my reverie.

"Thanks. White wine."

He went and came back with two glasses. He handed one to me and sipped from his.

"If were going to drink together, we may as well be re-introduced. I'm lousy at remembering names. I have to work on it," he smiled disarmingly. "I'm Walter. But my close friends call me Walt."

"Kirsty. My close fds cds call me Kirsty."

Walt laughed.

"This is one time I really wish I'd put my foot down and told Brian I wasn't coming," I sighed after a lull in the conversation. "Much as I love talking to you, I really hate these parties."

"I wished I'd done the same to Sharon. I hate this shit."

I laughed. I really liked this man. He had a great smile. He listened to what I said. And me made me feel like a human being. He also made me feel things that I should only feel for my husband -- if Brian used to take being a husband seriously.

"So...do you know anyone else here?" I asked him, looking up at him as he sipped from his wine glass. I had trouble concentrating on what he said, because I kept on looking at his large,ong ong hands on the delicate stem of the glass. His thumb kept stroking the stem, and I kept imagining that thumb caressing my lips. I mentally shook my self, and tried damn hard to listen to what he was saying.

"Nah, this party is Sharon's thing. Her world. I'm just showing my face 'cause I couldn't escape to work," he chuckled ruefully.

"And what do you do when you're not trying to escape polite company?" I asked, gazing into those soft eyes.

"I'm a G-man."

"Like Elliot Ness?" I laughed.

"Not quite, I don't chase after the bad guys, any more. I'm a Special Agent in Charge now. I'm behind a desk most of the day, filling out forms."


I honestly don't know what came over me. I looked him up and down. "You don't look like you spend the whole day behind a desk, but if you need some distractions..." I looked up at him from under my eyelashes. He coloured a dull shade of red, and laughed.

"We could meet for lunch," he coed. ed.

"That's a good place to start," I replied, and touched his arm. I was shocked by the jolt of electricity that flowed between us. Walt's eyes widened slightly, and I know he felt it too. I'd never felt that before, with anyone.

"Do you, ah, still want to meet for lunch?" I asked softly. I had to make sure he felt the same way that I did.

"I would like that," he admitted, smiling.

At that point, Brian came over. I quickly dropped my hand from Walt's arm, hoping that my husband didn't notice the electricity in the air. He didn't. He ignored Walt and said to me, "I need to go up to the office for a while. Can you get home?"

I resisted the urge to let my mouth hang open. I wasn't going to make a scene here for two reasons -- it would make me look bad, and Brian would simply ignore me. Not that there were plausible reasons in the first place. Brian ignored me anyway. He simply turned and left, without looking back.

"I don't believe that son of a bitch!" I exploded, for only Walt to hear.

"Does he do that to you often?" I didn't want to look up at Walt and see the pity in his eyes, so I looked away, past his shoulder toward the picture window, that I knew overlooked acres of prime woodland.

"Only when he's squiffy," I admitted.

Despite himself, Walt laughed. "Squiffy?"

"Not quite drunk. I got it from an English friend of mine, from college."

"Oh...well, let me tell Sharon and I'll drop you home," he turned to go and I held him back by laying my hand on his arm.

"You don't have to," I told him gently.

"I want to. I can't leave you to get home alone like that." He looked down at my feet. Anyway, you cant walk home in those shoes can you?" I looked down at my strappy black sandals and laughed.

"OK, OK, you're right," I smiled, and he walked off. After a few minutes, came back. You need to get a coat or something?

""No...it's a warm night and I didn't bring anything like that," I murmured.

"OK then, lets "
"

I put down my half full wine glass on a nearby table and we walked down to his car, a nondescript Ford that looked like it had seen better days.

He walked round to the passenger side and unlocked the door, holding it open for me.

"Why, thank you!" I was genuinely surprised. "I didn't know men still opened doors for women."

"I might be a G-man, but I'm not a caveman," he laughed as I got in and settled myself in the seat.

"No, you're not." I agreed and turned my head to look back up at him.

I realised that my head was at the same level as his crotch. All kinds of erotic thoughts danced through my head, and I sighed.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

I jumped. I didn't realise Walt had been looking at me that closely. He squatted down to my l.
.

I looked at him.

"You don't want to know," I admitted. I'd only known this man for less than three hours, and already I was having fants cos concerning him and his crotch, in glorious Technicolor.

"I do," he persisted. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't."

Damn!

"You catch a lot of criminals?" I asked him.

He had a half smile on his face. "Yes, why?"

"I can see you're really persistent."

"You haven't answered my question," he gently reminded me. Damn. Damn. Damn.

"Well it's really embarrassing..." I trailed off, hoping that he would catch the hint and back off. The gods had to be laughing at me that night, because Walt didn't even *see* the hint. He ra his his eyebrows encouragingly.

I usually didn't talk about these things. Not even with my husband. Especially not my husband. But I said it anyway.

"Oral sex," I whispered.

His eyes widened.

"With who?" his voice was soft and caressing.

"With you. I was going down on you," I elaborated, my cheeks burning.

He closed his eyes and sighed. I could see the shudder that racked his six foot plus frame.

"Damn, woman," he sighed. "I'd better get you home beforeo soo something I might regret." He straightened up and walked around to his side of the car.

Despite my embarrassment, I smiled. He hadn't slapped me or called me a whore. Things were looking up.

Walter got in and started the car. We drove along in silence. It was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. And now I had told him about what I had been thinking about, it was worse. I could feel desire pooling in my stomach and curling its way around my body.

I had visions of us kissing, stripping, of me straddling his lap and ripping the clothes off his magnificent body. Of him doing what my best friend back home called going down south. Of his tongue flicking my clit till I screamed with pleasure. I wanted to touch myself so bad, it hurt.

"Where do you live?"

"Huh?" I turned my unfocussed gaze on the object of my desire.

"Live. Where do you live?"

"Glasgow Park."

"OK."

I wanted to tell him to stop the car, so I could fuck him right there, but I talked myself out of it. I was a married woman, and he was a married man. For all my brave talk earlier, adultery wasn't something that I usually did. But he was making me feel things that I didn't usually feel. For anybody.

I wonder if I can play with myself without him noticing?

I'm used to playing with myself; its the only way I'm going to get any gratification. Sex with Brian isn't particularly fulfilling. But I'd never once had the inclination to play with myself in front of anyone else. Being with Walter did that to me. I felt it was OK doing it. It felt right. Lord have mercy!

"What number, Kirsty?"

"Hmmm?" I had to restrain myself from caressing my breasts.

"What is the house number?"

"Ahhhh...number 28, San Francisco Drive."

I've decided. Walter Skinner could read out the phone book and make me come, just by listening to his voice.

He pulled into my driveway and stopped the car.

"Uhhhhh...do you want a coffee, or nightcap...or something?"

Walter answered by leaning over, cradling the back of my head and searing my lips with a heated kiss. I could feel his teeth nibbling on my bottom lip, his tongue plundering my willing mouth. I sighed and scooted across as close as I could. My hands wandered up to the back of his head, pulling him closer. Our tongues duelled and circled, parted and caressed. His hands started to caress my breasts through my dress, and I arched into him as sparks shot out from his touch straight down to my now sopping pussy.

"Walt...!" I moaned, wondering if I could fuck him in the car without ripping my dress.

He pulled back and I groaned in disappointment. We should take this inside. He told me. We don't want the neighbours to talk.

I could imagine Mrs. Maiers, the noisy old biddy from across the road, peeping out from behind her frilly curtains. Tomorrow, she would tell me, and the whole damn neighbourhood too about what Walter and I had been up to on my doorstep on the wrong side of midnight. Walt was right.

I got out and hurried toward the door, leaving Walt to lock up the Ford. My hand was shaking so much I couldn't hold the key straight.

I finally managed to get the door open, and had the presence of mind to disable the burglar alarm.

Then I heard a growl behind me, and Walt strode in, kicked the door shut behind him and literally threw me up against the wall.

I wasn't scared. I was already fumbling with the belt of Was sls slacks, and trying to get them off in the fastest time possible. Walt pushed the straps of my dress off my shoulders, baring my breasts, and suckled at them, switching from one to another. I was moaning deep in my throat, finally managing to get the trousers and boxers off. I hitched up my skirt and lifted my leg as high as it could go. Walt ed bed by putting his hands under my bottom and lifting me. I could feel the hot heat of his dick on my thigh, then getting closer as he impaled me. My legs locked around his trim waist, and my hands tightened convulsively around his neck, and I came as he started a rhythm that picked up as we got comfortable in that position. I thought he was going to stop, but he didn't, picking up speed slightly, making my head fall back, my eyes closed, mouth open in a silent scream. I could feel my breasts rubbing against the rough material of his jacket, the friction sending jolts of pleasure to my sensory-overloaded pussy.

"Kirsty...so good...god, yes!" he ground out as we fucked up against the wall. I could feel his dick hitting my cervix with every thrust, but I was so turned on I didn't care.

"Walt..god, please , don't stop, please, oh god..." I was crying, it felt so good. I felt his cock swell as I started to come again, sending me over the edge, bucking between him and the wall, wailing.

Walt came with a shout, leaning against the wall, and trapping me against it.

I felt so damn weak; it was so much effort to keep my hands around his neck and my legs around his waist.

I lolled my head against his shoulder and moaned weakly. Walt gave a tired smile, and lifted my chin. "You okay, babe?"

I shook my head no, but smiled weakly to let him know it was a good thing, not a bad thing.

Keeping me pressed against the wall, he did some kind of shuffle, till I realised that he was kicking his slacks and boxers clear of his feet, and then he shifted my weight and cradled me in his arms and carried me up the stairs. Straight down the hall. I told him. He put me on the bed, then turned and left. I had to laugh at the sight of his naked, pert buttocks, coupled with the black tuxedo jacket, and the white shirt peaking out underneath. Walt wiggled his ass, and laughed, but didn't stop. About a minute later, he came back, slacks and boxers in hand.

"Bathroom?"

"Through there," I pointed.

He went in. I heard running water in the sink, and then he came back out fully clothed, carrying a washcloth and lots of toilet paper. He cleaned me with the toilet paper, mopping up the excess sperm, and finishing off with the damp washcloth. I was in shock. No man had ever shown me such consideration after sex. He then helped me out of the dress, thrt ovt over the chair by the window, and tucked me in bed. He leaned over and kissed me gently.

"That was incredible, Kirsty."

"I know. was was for me, too," I admitted.

He sat next to me on the bed. "I would really love to see you again," he confessed.

"Me too." Christ, the man had me talking in monosyllabalistic sentences. He had to be good.

"Is our lunch date still on?" he smiled at me.

"If you don't mind."

Walter burst out laughing. "Wild hs cos couldn't keep me away."

"Great!" He picked up the notepad by the bedside telephone and scribbled a number on it with the pen that was next to it.

"Call me," he said, tucking it into the thick romance novel that I wading through. "Call me in the morning."

He kissed me again, with more heat, then got up and walked to the doorway. He stopped and looked back. I propped my head on my arm and watched him. Walt grinned and walked away. Five minutes later, I heard his car start and drive down the road.


* * * *

At ten thirty the next day, I was at the pay phone at the local gas station, calling the number on the piece of paper Walter had left.


Fin.