We were both still dazzled by the mysterious lights we had the good fortune to see in Marfa. Mulder, thrilled by the sighting yet dismayed by his inability to discover any explanation for it, was still in the thrall of the paranormal. I only managed to drag him away from the small west Texas town by promising compliance with any other scheme, supernatural or sexual, he might devise. I was hoping for the former, anticipating the latter and subconsciously creating a daydream that was a combination of the two.

He settled upon Dallas as our next destination. I feared my worst case scenario was about to become reality and that we would spend days examining cow exsanguinations under the north Texas sun; our only respite repeated visits to Dealey Plaza and the Conspiracy Museum. Fortunately, Mulder seemed oblivious to both cows and Kennedys. Instead we spent the day exploring the city and a quiet evening talking over steak and mashed potatoes. After dinner, my partner suggested another drive. I was tired of the car; however, I remembered the promise that had delivered me from Marfa and agreed.

Now he was driving through a nice old neighborhood. There were more trees in this part of town than we'd seen in all of Dallas so far. Mulder turn onto a road that circled what could best be described as a very large pond. We made one full circuit of that pond, which a roadside sign declared was "White Rock Lake." Neither of us spoke, and the radio was off, too, so the car was engulfed in a reflective silence. I feared Mulder was starting a second lap, but instead he pulled off onto a side road that led to a rise overlooking the water. We continued in silence for a few moments, gazing at the house lights reflected on the black surface of the lake.

Finally, Mulder spoke. "She usually appears out of nowhere, standing by the side of the road. Her dress is torn and dirty and she is soaking wet. The couple always takes pity on her and offers her a ride home, which she gladly accepts. She climbs into the back seat of their car and gives directions and an address. Along the way, she tells them she and her boyfriend were on their way home from a party and the boyfriend lost control of the car and ran it into the lake. She is frightened and sad, so they hurry to get her home to her family and help. When they arrive at the given address, there is no one in the back seat of the car. Only a puddle remains to confirm that she was not a figment of their imaginations. They approach the door, hoping for an explanation. The elderly woman who answers the door listens patiently to their tale. It is not a shock to the her, for this has happened many times before. She explains to the young couple that they have been visited by the ghost of her daughter, who died in a car crash at the lake, on this very night, many years ago.

"Here, the hitchhiker is called the Lady of White Rock Lake. In other cities and towns, she is called other things, often just 'the lady of the lake.' Some see this story as a cautionary tale, something the old folks told the kiddies to encourage them to come home earlier. Of course, since we're looking for her, we won't find her. This type of supernatural manifestation only appears to those who don't expect it. Unless, of course, you are the lady of the lake. Are you going to disappear on me, Alex?"

Still in a reverie from his calm telling of the tale, I had to gather my wits to answer. His serious tone worried me enough that I knew I had better offer reassurance. There were far too many disappearances in his life already and I was determined not to be another. "Never, Mulder. I'm here for the long haul," I said.

My offering seemed to be just what my partner needed. I could feel the tension dissipate; see his muscles relax. Now I could lighten things up a bit. I smirked and said, "Watching for this lady sure sounds like an excellent excuse to take someone parking."

Mulder grinned back at me, a predatory glimmer flashing in his eyes. My body responded eagerly to his look. He moved in for a searing kiss, stroked his fingers along my thighs and after teasing me this way for what seemed an eternity, he finally brushed those fingers across my crotch. Gloating, he said, "Aha! You're not the lady of the lake, Alex. This manifestation was exactly what I was expecting."

End