|In the beginning, I did not intend to listen. On my word
as a Mountie. I felt it was improper and behavior
unbecoming the uniform. In my defense, the Constable showed
a remarkable lack of common sense, allowing it to
happen. I dread to think of the results had the
Inspector overheard. |
It began quite innocently, I assure you. Inspector Thatcher had instructed me to clean the filing room thoroughly, from top to bottom. A visiting dignitary would be staying with us overnight, and while I didn't understand what they might be doing in our filing room, I complied, as always. It was hot and thankless work, as are most of my tasks, with no windows and only one vent connected to Constable Fraser's office.
I have come to expect these sorts of requests from my Superiors, and I cannot complain, as it is due to my own failings my first week here. It my first posting outside of the Motherland and to be with someone such as Constable Fraser, well, it was an honor. I'm afraid that I made a poor showing, remarkable only for my clumsiness and sheer ineptitude. When the Mountie in me finally surfaced, the impression had been formed and they had moved on. Constable Fraser tends to ignore me, politely of course, which affords me the opportunity to study him at my leisure. The Inspector... well, I'm sure she's under pressure from her superiors. She really is quite a good officer despite her attitude.
I mustn't complain though, my days are busy, filled with time-consuming tasks to minor for the others, but important just the same. My job reviews, while unremarkable, are always complimentary, as I try to bring diligence and pride to each task I'm assigned. More importantly, I'm able to work for, and occasionally with, my hero. To see Constable Fraser in action is a breathtaking reward. But, I digress.
As I previously indicated, I was under strict orders not to leave the filing room until my task was completed. By late afternoon I was quite tired and thirsty. I stopped for a few moments, to drink some lemon tea and refresh myself as best I could in the stuffy little room. Perhaps I closed my eyes, but only for a moment, to cleanse my lids of the gritty dust that filled the air.
Forever to my dishonor, I napped. I was quite surprised when Constable Fraser's door was slammed shut as Detective Vecchio made his entrance next door. It was obviously very late. Would that I have been alert and going about my task, they would have heard me and nothing untoward would have happened.
An idle ear tuned into Detective Vecchio, hearing and dismissing his rather petulant complaints about that dreadful green car and his family. I daresay that he does not find Miss Francesca's attention to the Constable amusing. Not wanting to intrude, I resumed shuffling my papers, a quiet task, replaying in my head a Chopin piece I had recently heard.
During the symphony intermission, I realized that the noises
coming from the vent overhead had changed. Low murmurs and
rather... throaty laughter had replaced talking. Admittedly, I
should have made my presence known at that time, but I was
overtaken by curiosity. Constable Fraser had always seemed
so humorless; hearing his quiet laughter, I was taken in by the
mellow timbre of his voice and the obvious affection in it.
Even Detective Vecchio's voice had lost that familiar nasal
So I stayed.
Endearments and vulgarities flowed from their mouths, things
too tender to repeat, too lewd to resist, cocooning me in their
passion. My heart tripled its beat to match the
furious slaps of pounding flesh and I had to bite my arm to keep
my own scream silent at the apex. Fraser made a most
wondrous noise, deep in his chest, as he climaxed. It
reminded me of a bull elk, bellowing out challenges as he stands
over his harem.