Mulder leaned out the car window and pressed the compound buzzer.

"Peace and light, what's your business?" droned a bored voice.

"Agents Mulder and Scully to see Sky Turner. We have an appointment."

Mulder heard the faint rustle of papers before the electronic gate swung open. He drove slowly down the winding, narrow road, vegetation obscuring all peripheral vision.

"He likes his privacy," Scully murmured.

Mulder swallowed his reply as they crested a hill. An oddly unsettling group of gleaming white buildings were scattered at random throughout the landscape, half spherical shapes seemingly tumbled from a giant's hand. There were no paths or any other evidence of connection between the buildings, with wildflowers growing in a carpet entirely surrounding them. No evidence of doors or windows - or even people.

"What do these look like to you, Scully?"

"Monuments to Sky Turner's bald head?"

Mulder grinned. The road abruptly ended at the largest of the hemispheres and, by straining to see, he made out the faint outline of a door. They walked to the building in a silence made more eerie by the absolute quiet surrounding them. A cleansing breath and the steadiness of touching Scully's back and Mulder was ready for whatever strangeness was hidden within.

He was almost disappointed when the automatic door whooshed quietly open to reveal not a phantasm but a small, severely coiffed woman dressed in a white robe and chewing gum.

"I'm Fiona Feeny, your spiritual guide. Let's see some I.D."

Their badges were minutely scrutinized.

"Can't be too careful. Gaganiji's had a lot of crackpots trying to contact him. One even hacked into his website."

Scully looked confused. "Gaganiji?"

"Nickname. It'll be Guru Turner to you two. Now," she snapped her gum, "strip in the other room and put on visitors' robes."

"Wait a minute-" Mulder protested.

Feeny held up her hand. "You wanna see Gaganiji, you gotta follow the ashram rules. No restrictive and impure outside-world clothing. That goes double for guns. You guys packing?"

Scully started to back away, and Mulder could read the stubborn set of her shoulders and flashing eyes as easily as if she had shouted. He turned to her. "Scully?"

"Dammit, Mulder," she hissed. "Turner is a suspect."

They exchanged a glance. A long moment later, Mulder removed the clip from his gun and handed it to Feeny. Scully slowly followed.

"Stop gun violence." Feeny intoned. "Now hurry up and get changed. Gaganiji doesn't like to wait."

Mulder followed Scully into the small guest room. A row of pegs lined one wall and, in the corner, a selection of robes was neatly folded on top of a wooden bench.

"Hey, Scully, I hear white is the new black."

Scully snorted and removed her jacket. A card slipped out of her pocket.

Mulder bent to pick it up and spied a hasty scribble. //My natal day is March fourth// it read //the best birthday present would be your presence// Fitzwilliam Foxhound Mulder-Mulder//

Mulder flipped the card over, saw the words British Embassy Ball, and stared into Scully's flustered face.

"I'll explain later."

"Scully, Fitz's birthday is March fourth. If you want to go-"

"I'll explain later," she repeated firmly, snatched the card and stuck it back into her pocket. Her voice softened. "Don't worry, Mulder. You'll be my beau if we go to the ball. If."

Scully turned away and stepped to the robes, shaking out two from the pile before she found a smaller one.

She lifted one eyebrow. "Do you mind?"

Mulder stood with his back towards Scully, refusing to think about trying to sneak a peek. Even though he was very good at both sneaking and peeking.

A shallow wicker basket held pairs of plastic sandals, and Mulder traded his black wingtips for flip flops. He felt a bubble of giddiness tickle under his breastbone as he threw on a robe, and began humming "Jesus Christ, Superstar."

"Wrong religion, Mulder. Although this is technically a cult rather than a religion - and from what I've read, it's the 'Sky Turner Sexual Techniques Cult' to the rich and famous."

"Yep. He calls himself O Guru do Sexo. Doesn't need much of a translation, does it?"

Feeny opened the door. "You're finally ready. Come on so you can get enlightened."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Mulder quipped, but Feeny ignored him.

Down a narrow hallway, around a corner, up a set of stairs - and with each step the chanting grew louder and the sandalwood incense smelled stronger.

Feeny put her finger to her lips before carefully opening a set of double doors. Mulder and Scully stepped inside, blinking.

A mob of white robed acolytes surrounded Sky Turner in dozens of irregular concentric circles. Translucent light surrounded Turner's still, cross-legged form like a halo, and Mulder had to squint to find the source. There it was. A pot light, partially hidden by a stylized infinity symbol.

Mulder smirked - Turner obviously had a flair for drama. The smile froze on his face, however, as Turner's eyes opened. It was like staring into the cold intelligence and intensity of a snake.

Turner rose in one fluid motion, waving away the murmurs of his followers. He walked serenely past Mulder and Scully and into a smaller room, Feeny anxiously motioning for them to follow.

"Agents Mulder and Scully, Gaganiji."

"Close the door on your way out, Fiona." Turner smiled at Scully, and Mulder felt his skin crawl with the oiliness of it. "Please, be seated."

Mulder awkwardly perched on one cushion. He felt a wave of fondness as he noticed how Scully sat ramrod straight, her serious face at odds with her bulky robe. Despite the smaller size of the robe, he still couldn't see Scully's hands from under the long sleeves.

"Mr. Turner," Scully began.

"Please, call me Sky. Although my name pales when compared to the celestial colour of your eyes." Scully's eyes narrowed and Mulder deliberately uncurled his fist.

"Mr. Turner, Agent Scully and I are here for one reason. We're investigating the disappearance of the Olympic swim team. Do you know anything?"

Turner shrugged. "Why would I know anything?"

"Your pamphlet was found at the scene of Xien Cho's disappearance, and now the other swimmers have also mysteriously vanished."

Turner shrugged again, suddenly sat next to Scully and gently pulled up her sleeve. Mulder swallowed in shock as Turner began to trace a complicated pattern on her unresisting palm.

"Scully?"

Mulder reached across and snatched Scully's hand back. "What the hell are you doing to her?"

"A life lesson, Agent Mulder. Touch can be a powerful thing. Soothing, or," he reached behind and tapped one finger against Mulder's vertebrae, causing him to gasp in a sudden jolt of pain, "not."

Scully blinked. "What's going on?"

Turner smiled condescendingly at her confusion. "We've been discussing the Olympic swim team, Miss Scully. Although if you'd care to spend some private time with me, there are many more interesting things we could discuss."

"No," Scully cleared her throat. "No, thank you."

"A pity. Well then, there's no more reason for you to investigate. The team has not disappeared at all. They are staying in this compound as my guests, and I see no reason why you should disturb their contemplation."

"Do you seriously expect us to believe that?" asked Scully. Even to herself, her voice sounded far away and a certain lethargy seemed to have drifted from her now fuzzy head to her toes. What had Turner's touch done to her?

"Ever the doubter, Miss Scully," smiled Turner. "I know all about you." He glanced dismissively at Mulder, "You are partnered well with this hobbledehoy; but I sense you are not yet mated."

He caressed the silken fabric of the cushion he was sitting on, in small circles with two fingertips, and watched with satisfaction as Scully had to shake her head to regain her concentration.

"What are you doing, Turner?" Scully was reminded of the uncomfortable eroticism of her hypnotism by Dr. Werber. In some undefined way, she could feel she was losing control; and if there was anything Dana Scully didn't like, it was losing control.

"One doesn't always need to touch to cause sensation when making a connection. I was merely using mesmerism, but of course you wouldn't believe in that."

"Look, Sky, tell us how you made the swimmers come here. Or was that mesmerism too?" Mulder's voice was mild, tightly enunciated, and with a stress on "Sky" - a sure sign of reined-in temper, Scully knew. She placed a warning hand on his arm.

"I assure you," Turner said," the gentlemen came to the compound of their own free will. The entire hullabaloo about their disappearance is just that, a hullabaloo. The Olympic team members requested a private consultation after a discreet phone call from Xien Cho, and I arranged for my trusted driver to transport them from a hotel basement service entrance."

"Why?" Mulder persisted.

"Do you mean, why would they wish to meet with me?" Turner flashed his teeth in a shark-like smile. "Let's just say that my teachings offer the ultimate performance enhancer, in the most important area of performance a man can have. In fact, Miss Scully, a certain Bobby Orr muttered your name in deep meditation. I sense you are 'inspiring' him, which is why I am so delighted to meet you. Now I can quite understand the thrall in which you hold them."

"That's ridiculous," spluttered Scully. "I only met them briefly."

"I am aware of this, and the brevity of your meeting is all the more remarkable. They chose you, a small, ordinary redhead, over one of the world's most desired models. Judging by Orr's fervid response, I am most interested to witness his reaction in your presence. The years of untapped sexual energy within you must be truly immense."

Mulder stepped forward. "Watch it, Turner. We're not interested in Bobby Orr's meditational fantasies - or yours."

Scully wanted to slap the smug look from Turner's face. Years of untapped sexual energy indeed! "We'll need to verify Mr. Orr's presence here, of course. Tell us where to find the swim team, Mr. Turner, or we'll call our regional office to assist in our investigation."

"No need, no need. Besides, it's a free country, and I don't think you'll be able to convince them to leave, at least not until they've completed all seven levels of training." Turner shouted, "Fiona!"

The door swung open. "Yes, gaganiji?"

"Show these people to my private quarters. They'd like a word with our newest guests."

Fiona shot Mulder and Scully an angry look. "Fine. But it will be your responsibility if you screw up their spiritual training."

"Now, now, Fiona," Turner intoned, "after speaking to the Olympic team, Agents Mulder and Scully might even be convinced to join our happy family."

As they stepped out the door, Scully relaxed as she heard Mulder mutter, "shoot me now." In this crazy looking-glass of a compound, Mulder's dour comments were a breath of normality. Besides, she would never admit it, but Mulder looked better in a robe and flip flops than the entire swim team in their cheesecake cover pose.

Sky Turner's private quarters were about as ostentatious as those belonging to any spiritual cult leader with the belief that enlightenment could be gained through simplicity. Gold and red were the dominant colour scheme, and the Italian marble floors reflected the light from the Czech crystal chandeliers. A fleet of limousines could be seen though the French windows.

On what must have been the largest mattress ever manufactured, in the centre of the room, were Thomas Orwenyo, Xien Cho, Angelo Panucci, Junior McCuskey, and Bobby Orr. Each sat with their legs crossed in the lotus position.

They were not sitting still in quiet contemplation, but were instead taking it in turns to cross from one end of the mattress to the other; still cross-legged and by a strange method of bouncing.

"I've seen this before," said Mulder. "It's called 'Yogic Flying'"

Scully, brow arched, said, "Yes, but since they're bouncing, I'm to assume the flying part doesn't quite work?"

"It's adapted from Yogic flying, but we're more interested in the sexual plane. But they *are* flying mentally," insisted Fiona. "You are being limited by what you think you see."

"Agent Scully!" McCuskey shouted on spotting them. Bobby Orr, who had been concentrating on flying, bounced off the edge of the mattress in surprise.

Both men struggled out of their position, to rush over to Scully's side.

"Ma'am, I hope you remember me," said McCuskey.

"I've been thinking about you ever since we met," added Bobby Orr.

Mulder looked perplexed. "Have you been drugged?"

Scully was unsure how she felt about Mulder believing that men had to be drugged in order to find her attractive. Admittedly, it seemed to be every man she came across recently, but even so, it wasn't exactly flattering.

The other swimmers now joined them, looking equally love struck.

Sky Turner entered the room, and smiled with satisfaction. He placed one hand on Scully's shoulder and one on Xien Cho's.

"Join us, Agent Scully," he urged.

"So pretty," praised Angelo, kissing Scully's hand.

Thomas Orwenyo attempted to take the other. "Agent Scully, if I have learnt one thing from Sky Turner, it's that sex isn't about love and marriage, or even procreation. It's a way of communicating, of saying hello to a new friend."

Scully shook her hand free. "At the moment, even a handshake is out of the question. Xien Cho, we're from the FBI, and need to know whether you have been kidnapped or if you're staying at Mr. Turner's compound of your own volition?"

Xien Cho looked horrified at the suggestion of kidnapping, and praised Turner's skill as a guru and sexual adviser effusively.

"Okay, I think we've heard enough," interrupted Mulder, as Cho's testimony started to get explicit. "Rest assured your Embassy and Immigration will be informed of your presence, and I very much doubt either will allow you to complete the seven 'training' levels."

xXx

"You know, Mulder, that wasn't much of a case," remarked Scully as they entered their office.

"You're right, it wasn't," Mulder admitted. "We didn't ask Xien how he managed to get out of his hotel room without anyone seeing him, either. But here's a mystery."

Three packages, addressed to Agent Scully, had been delivered. One was a large square cardboard box, the second a round box, and the third a long canvas suit holder with a hanger poking through the top.

The square cardboard box had a card from Lady Jane. It contained soap, talcum powder, cleansing lotion and five bottles of perfume in different sizes. All of them were part of the Esme Binoche Black Orchid range.

Mulder sniffed the soap. "Is Lady Jane trying to tell you something, Scully? Too much of the eau de FBI agent, and not enough glamour?"

Scully turned two of the bottles over and showed Mulder the label: "Sample only: not for resale."

"Not so generous after all," smirked Mulder. "That's the aristocracy for you. What's in the other box and case? They’re from Fitz, I recognize his family crest.""

Scully undid the ribbon of the round box and lifted off the lid. Inside was a large broad brimmed hat, decorated with plumed feathers and a ribbon. Once unzipped, the case revealed a matching blue silk dress on a hanger, with voluminous petticoats and a lace collar.

"How very now," said Mulder.

"What is this?" muttered Scully, before she read Fitz’s florid handwriting. "'Forgive my boldness, Dana. Your resemblance to the third best Gainsborough on the grand staircase landing was too much to resist. Please indulge me, and come to the ball as my forbear, Lady Charlotte Mulder-Mulder.'"

"Fancy dress balls are a family tradition, Scully. Fitz always makes a point of going as one of his own ancestors, and it appeals to his ego if his friends do so as well."

"Mulder, today I've already escaped induction into a cult, and now I'm expected to dress up like Little Lord Fauntleroy's sister."

"Well, have fun."

"Oh no," Scully said. "If I have to endure this humiliation at the hands of your cousin, you do too."

"Fine," Mulder replied after a moment's consideration.

"So what are you going as?"

"No no no," he replied. "I'll surprise you. When I was at Oxford, Fitz rarely missed an opportunity to humiliate me at one of the college or Micklethwaite balls. 'Fox-baiting' was one of Fitz's favourite sports, but this time it will be different, despite the Mulder-Mulder family motto."

"Family motto?"

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