Promises: Buck and Mrs. V on a date, so sweet, and Fraser learns a new trick. And *more* sex, for everyone who sent me a comment on the last 5 eps. A nut or two.  Quiz by Laurie Taylor. Ltaylor@provider.uk.

The theater darkened and the curtains rolled open. Sofia glanced at the handsome man seated at her right. He gazed back at her, his eyes sparkling with reflections of the dim chandeliers high overhead. He smiled broader and gently took her right hand in his. She sighed contentedly and turned back to see the musicians bedecked in their formal attire. None looked even close to as distinguished as her Mountie friend in his red uniform. Her Mountie friend, or should she be thinking her boyfriend? She suppressed a giggle. He made her feel so vibrant.

The director approached the podium and the audience began to applaud. Buck didn't release her hand. He pulled it up to his lips and kissed her fingers. Sofia glanced shyly down at her lap until he returned their entwined hands to the padded arm rest.

The music swelled over them and it's passionate strains enveloped them in a world of their own.

Chicago streets weren't even *remotely* a safe place for an unlocked car. Even occupied cars. The epaulette man screeched to a stop at a red light and repeatedly checked the rear view mirror for signs of pursuit. He fingered the small pouch in his right jacket pocket. The stolen doorman's uniform had worked perfectly tonight. And that old duffer handing him those keys had just made his escape that much quicker. He could drive the five blocks to the Trosk hotel and make the exchange and be gone by dawn. Simple. He smiled.

The arm rest of the driver's door jerked away from his body as a scruffy man opened the door and grabbed the epaulette man by his collar. He recoiled in surprise and kicked out at his assailant. During the struggle he heard ripping and grabbed at his right pocket to clutch the bulge to his body. He was pulled from the idling vehicle and stumbled to the pavement while the green car squealed away through the intersection. Hastily he stumbled by the two winos on the curbside bench and made his way down the block into the Trosk.

Patrolman Smith saw the green flash of Detective Vecchio's prized Riviera as the car hurtled by his radar setup. And that *wasn't* Detective Vecchio or his Mountie partner driving it. In the precious seconds it took him to spring into action the car was out of sight. He set off in pursuit and radioed for assistance.

All of the 27th precinct's patrol cars that were currently on the streets joined the chase before bothering to radio to the dispatcher. Several cars from bordering percents joined in. It had to be a carjacking or simple theft. None of them thought for even a moment that the detective would have loaned out the car. And even faced with a murdering carjacker they didn't believe it was remotely possible that the Detective would relinquish his car. Probably not even *after* death.

And he'd want the car back. Oh, how he'd want that car back.

Patrolman Smith grimaced at the memory of the time they'd all suffered horribly after the detective had been forced to blow up his first Riviera. This one couldn't be lost to him. Some of his fellow officers might not survive this time.

Smith caught sight of the vehicle in question gliding under the garage door of a warehouse. He radioed for back-up. Immediately two dozen CPD marked cars and three unmarked cars converged quietly on his location.

Lieutenant Welsh barreled from the first vehicle and stalked over to Smith. "In there?" he snapped.

"Yes, sir. The car was undamaged the last I saw it. Could Detective Vecchio be a prisoner in it?"

"No. I checked and he's still at his assignment. His mother and some Mountie were out in it at the symphony. It's been verified that they're in their seats apparently completely unaware that his car's missing."

The lieutenant was now surrounded by worried and anxious police officers. Welsh glanced around, reading the fear in their eyes. This place looked too much like a chop shop. They probably had a very short time to rescue the car before it was hacked to bits for it's parts. He couldn't help it. He shuddered. "All right, listen up." He outlined the plan and motioned them into action.

Because of their reluctance to risk a stray bullet hitting the Riviera the assault was amazingly quiet. And just as amazingly over with no struggle from the perps inside.

Smith ran his hand lightly down the smooth fenders, needing to verify by touch that it was unharmed.

"Get it back to the symphony, Huey. And for God's sake don't touch the lighter or open the . . . Just don't press *any* buttons."

"Got it, sir, Huey answered somberly. You, Smith, and you three. I want an escort. No road hog or air-head is gonna bump into *that* vehicle while *I'm* behind the wheel.

"That was wonderful, Buck. I'm so glad you asked me to come with you tonight," Sofia said as they stood in the queue of patrons making their way from the performance.

"I wouldn't have enjoyed the evening at all if you had been unable to accompany me, dear lady. *Any* occasion spent in your company is nothing but sheer delight." Buck placed a protective arm around her back as they moved slowly through the press of elegantly attired people. "Perhaps we could make it a habit, attending the symphony."

She lifted an eyebrow. "I'd like that. But not too often, I think. You might prefer a bit of outdoor entertainment. No?"

He smiled and gave her a quick squeeze. "I fear you know me too much to put up with any nonsense, eh?"

"Yes, caro. Tomorrow would be a lovely day for a picnic. The grandchildren could come?"

"Perhaps a place along the shore? Young Fraser mentioned a spot he and Raimondo went to a few weeks ago. Excellent hiking and a beach to fly kites on. Would you like a stroll along the shore?"

"A slow walk? With you, of course, caro."

Buck was delighted to see the Buick waiting at the entrance for them. A young man in a dark uniform stood there holding the passenger door open. Glancing at the fellow's name tag he said, "Thank you, Smith. Excellent valet service in this town." Then tipped him generously.

The officer stared down at the blue bill in his hand. "Oh dear," he murmured.

The key didn't even make it into the ignition slot the next morning before Ray spied the shiny bit of metal on his beloved Riviera's carpet. Instantly down on his hands and knees he examined the item with suspicious distaste. A metric threaded nut.

"Whew. Baby." He patted the Riv's dash, "For a minute I thought you'd lost a nut from somewhere. Now why don't you tell me where *this* came from? And what's it doing inside *you*?" With extreme caution and a pen he rolled the nut into the handkerchief a very mellow Benny'd stuck in his jacket pocket an hour ago before leaving Ray's bedroom via the window.

Ray tucked the nut in his pocket and began going over the Riv's interior in minute detail.

"Just check the nut and the scrap of paper for prints," he told the lab technician. He stomped back upstairs to his desk and glared at the copy of the paper's scribbled message. Seven hundred thousand dollars, eight p. m. and scrawled almost illegibly, the word ice.

"Hello, Ray."

He jumped and felt his heart thud in his chest. "Benny! Do you have to always try and scare me to death? And stop standing over me like some vulture waiting to pick at my bones."

A tiny smile played across the Canadian's lips as he leaned close and whispered, "I'm sorry Ray. I certainly had no intention of *frightening* you or of *picking* at your boner."

Ray gaped. Benny experimenting with American slang words could be horrifying. He struggled for a reply and couldn't think of one. "Sit down. Now. And I'm going to do you a favor. I'm going to ignore that last remark. Lemme finish this form and we'll go to lunch."

"But Ray, it's not even ten o'clock," Fraser protested as he tugged at the tight jeans stretched over his thighs and sat in the chair by his lover's desk.

Ray arched his brows and tilted his head at Benny. "And your point is?"

"Ah. Nothing, Ray. Lunch sounds like an excellent idea."

"Fine. I just need to clear away a few things." The form was ground into the typewriter and Ray banged away on the loud machine, ignoring the rippling sound of the form as it wrinkled in the advancing carriage. As he pulled the finished form out his phone rang.

"Vecchio." He listened tensely for a moment and jotted notes on the back of the form, then stuffed it in his pocket. "Yeah. Thanks," he said as the receiver was on its way back to its cradle. "We're outta here, Benny."

Fraser hurried to catch up with the detective and jostled against him down the stairs. He did quite a bit more jostling against Ray's hip than was strictly necessary on the wide staircase.

"This place, Benny. Just gonna pop in for a minute and ask a couple of questions." Ray patted his lover's inner thigh and slid out of the Riv.

Fraser watched the tense man walk away and squirmed uncomfortably in the car seat. These jeans were definitely too tight. Perhaps because of the extra bit of muscle he'd put on in his thighs of late. A bit too much calisthenics. Or a result of other vigorous, repetitive motions. Yes. Definitely. He'd just have to reduce his adherence to one of the forms of exercise. And he had no doubt which one it would be. Perhaps the other could even be increased, thus completely eliminating the requirement for the more *standard* form of exercise.

Ray opened the driver's door and sat down with a heavy sigh. "No leads here."

"Perhaps if you explained the case to me I might be of some assistance," Fraser suggested as he ran his fingers over Ray's right leg and up to the juncture of his legs.

Ray was silent. Absently he covered Benny's roaming hand. "It's not a case, really. More of a personal thing, you know? I think we need to take a break, clear our minds."

"That would be nice," Fraser agreed as Ray drove down the block to a small motel.

With the registration complete Ray led Benny to the room on the third floor. He scooped a newspaper from the doorstep and unfolded it as they stepped inside. His lover attached himself to Ray's back, arms and mouth keeping their bodies as close as possible.

Fraser pushed his hands inside Ray's Armani jacket, tugging buttons open as hastily as possible. A hairy chest met his touch and he thrust his fingers down into the lose slacks. Ray was almost hard. The heat thrilled the Mountie and he shifted his grip. "Ray, are you actually reading that paper?"

"Hmm?" Ray scanned the headline article as his hips shifted from side to side.

"I want to pick at parts of you, Ray. Put the paper down." Fraser unbuckled the supple belt, unbuttoned the tailored slacks and pulled the zipper talon down. "Are you finished reading?"

Ray groaned and ground his ass against Benny's jeans. "Just another second, love."

"Well, sit here," Fraser directed as he maneuvered Ray to the side of the bed and down on its edge. Ray continued to read so Fraser pulled Ray back up, tugged the slacks and underwear down then pushed him down again. That lovely penis bobbed out, pointing at him. He darted forward and took a quick lick along the length of its underside. The fat cum vein glistened with his saliva. Fraser admired his work. The penis was rock-hard now. He licked again and it bobbed up and down for a moment.

Ray's breathing was growing heavier but he never lowered the paper. Fraser felt a bit of annoyance at not being able to see his lover's face. He decided to see how long Ray could keep reading. With his perfectly proportioned hands he pushed Ray's thighs wide and planted his mouth on the man's hairy balls.

This time Ray jolted under the onslaught of Fraser's lips and tongue. First the Mountie drew one into his mouth, tonguing his way around it as thoroughly as he could. Then he worked carefully to fit the other in. Ray's wet cock lay along his cheek and Fraser turned his head from side to side to feel it caress his face. Deeply he inhaled the scent of Ray's musky sex. It washed across his senses and sent his mouth to the tip of his lover's shaft.

Ray lowered the paper over Fraser's back for a moment and Fraser saw him struggle to open his eyes. Pages were turned in the paper and Ray resumed reading while low moans interspersed with gasps of pleasure escaped from him. Fraser didn't know if he should be insulted or aroused. Was this a game Ray was playing? The sensitive flesh in his mouth twitched against his palate and he pushed his lips lower.

The thighs bracketing his shoulders squeezed in against him but Fraser held his place and began to suck as he drew his mouth away and plunged it down again. Over and over he did this as Ray's love sounds grew louder. More rustling and a page was turned. Fraser doubled his efforts. Ray was gasping now and the paper started to shake noisily.

The detective thrust his hips forward and shouted an almost bass cry of passion. The untranslatable sound rang through Fraser's head as he felt the spread paper blanket his upper body. Ray's hands crushed it to his head, filling Fraser's hearing with the sharp crumpling sounds. His mind was divided between the sensations of bringing Ray to orgasm in his mouth and the sensation's on his body of the paper and the pressure of Ray's hands and thighs. His knees were lifted centimeters from the floor by Ray's powerful grip and the detective slid his pulsing shaft deep past the ring of Fraser's throat.

It was impossible to suck any longer or to breathe well but he hung on, encouraging Ray to ride his mouth and his throat to the peak of maddening pleasure. A last groan and Ray's cum was sliding down Fraser's throat. He pulled away and swallowed several times. Stunned, Fraser sank back against his heels and watched Ray collapse back on the bed. Bits of the newspaper, crumpled and torn lay scattered about them.

Hesitantly Fraser rose up to see Ray's eyes. Open and staring at the ceiling. He touched his lover's chest. "Ray? Are you all right?"

"I didn't know you could do that, Benny."

"Do what?" Fraser asked, concerned about the strange, still look on his lover's usually animated face.

"Ice."

"It was nice?"

"*Ice*. That diamond merchant from Haifa. His metal cases in the newspaper pictures would be metric. Half the CPD is on the trail of the thief. Very bad PR for the city, you know. It was last night, about seven. Funny coincidence, huh? The time and the amount?" He scooted to the side and redressed himself. "Well, come on, Benny. I *have* to find out."

"About what, Ray?" Fraser was unable to keep a shadow if irritation from his voice. He stopped at the door to adjust his very uncomfortable erection. The jeans pulled and pinched at him and his patience with his lover grew thinner by the minute.

"Okay. Gerome said the Riv stopped here and the driver was hauled out by some freak. He disappeared into that flea-bag hotel over there."

Fraser moved closer to hear better. He rubbed his bulge against Ray's folded hand and Ray gazed over his shoulder down the crowded street.

"The Riv came back through about an hour later with a police escort." He drummed his fingers against his thigh and felt Benny's gasps of breath against his neck. "So first we check out the dive." He tugged at Benny's blue sleeve to get him in motion.

The clerk wasn't much help so Ray forced the registration book from his grimy hands. "Holcomb, Holcomb. Don't see it, you?" he asked Benny. His lover leaned hard against his back and peered over his shoulder at the scrawled list of names. The book in Ray's grasp now thrummed against the counter.

Fraser took a deep breath and forced himself to stop humping against the slim hip. "I don't see that name, Ray."

"You two need a room?" the clerk asked with a wicked grin.

"Shaddap, you little weasel. I've already given you your bribe an' you're not getting another dime outta me."

Fraser hastily searched the pockets of his jeans and sighed when he found no money for a room. His wallet was in his jacket that he now recalled he'd left at the 27th precinct.

"What's that look like to you?"

"That? Um, V, A, and an I and that must be an L."

Ray clapped him on the back. "Yup. Vail. Holcomb, Vail, both mean valley. That's our man, Benny. Let's go."

"You're lucky. That fellow missed a meet last night or he woulda been outta here by now. Into threesomes, eh?" the clerk asked.

Fraser shot him a dark look before following Ray up the stairs. On the second flight he moved up behind Ray and placed his hands on Ray's ass cheeks. The feel of the muscles working under the fine linen exhilarated him.

Ray paused outside room 209. "Benny, you wanna step to the side of the door?" he asked motioning his partner to the right.

Fraser gave his lover's round cheeks one last squeeze and reluctantly moved to the indicated spot. Ray's skilled hand with its delineated knuckles rapped softly on the door.

"Super," Ray called in a rather lazy drawl. "You got a toilet leakin'?"

Mr. Vail, or rather, Mr. Holcomb, twice convicted felon, known jewel thief and suspected smuggler from London, England sat in the 27th precinct's interrogation room. Fraser watched the turmoil surrounding his stoic lover. Two captains, his own lieutenant and the commissioner with several of his aids were shouting at Ray all at the same time. The detective perched on the corner of Huey's desk with his arms crossed and his lips pressed tightly together as he stared at the closed interrogation room door.

"Look," he finally shouted, holding his hands up for their silence. "I'll fill you in on the details of how we found him *after*," and he paused to glare at each of their faces, "I ask him *one* question."

"One question?" the commissioner repeated.

Ray nodded sternly.

"Fine. But not without his council and us present.

Ray slid off the desk and stalked to the door. Fraser watched his catlike movements, so reminiscent of a mountain lion, hungry and close to a kill. The grim Italian flung the door wide and marched to the suspect. He loomed over the short figure. Fraser scrambled to the opening, straining to peer past the knot of Chicago Police personnel.

"One question, pal," Ray snarled roughly. "And you *really* ought to answer me. And quick."

The hapless public defendant stared fearfully at the detective and made no protest on behalf of his client. His client nodded vigorously.

"How did you end up driving my . . . mint condition . . . 1971 . . . green . . . Buick . . . Riviera last night?"

"Pinched it. At the symphony house. Some old duffer in a red coat handed me the keys."

"Your *car*, detective? You only wanted to ask the most notorious thief in all of Chicago about your *car*?" the commissioner asked in a escalating voice.

Lieutenant Welsh snaked an arm out and restrained the commissioner. Luckily he pulled his superior away from the door milliseconds before the too-silent detective stormed out through it.

The commissioner shouted at Ray, "You said you'd tell us what led you to Holcomb."

"The nut!" Ray exclaimed without a pause in his stride.

"The Nut?"

Ray shot an exasperated look back at the congregated superiors. "His print was on the metric nut he dropped when he was carjacked."

"Red coat, Ray?" Fraser asked as he once again jostled against his lover's hip as they descended the stairs. This time there truly was cause for the close crowding. The news had already spread and the precinct house was under siege by police officers and reporters alike. Suddenly a camera flashed in their faces. Fraser flinched but Ray marched on. The Mountie darted through the throng and dodged several restraining grasps as he joined Ray in the subject of his short exchange with the diamond thief. The entire inventory of stolen diamonds now rested on Welsh's desk, well guarded and currently being examined under a stereoscopic microscope by their rightful owner.

Two television station vans followed Ray from the parking lot onto the street. Fraser eyed them with disdain and sighed heavily. He stretched his arm low and left to his lover's thigh. "Where can we go, Ray? I *need* to be alone with you."

"First to your place to make sure you locked your closet door. Then, we're gonna make a little call on a certain gentleman who likes to run around town in his red uniform."

"Oh dear."

1 What did the epaulette-wearing man finger at the red light?

2 How did Sofia refer to Buck in the first scene?

3 What made Lt Welsh shudder in the chop shop?

4 Who did Ray think had lost a nut?

5 What did Ben jostle against going down the stairs?

6 What had made Fraser's jeans tight across the thigh?

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Answer all questions correctly and receive your choice of our "on order" chocolate Detectives and Constables, coming to you by train from the territories and provinces of Canada.

Prize awarded to eligible entrants in UN recognized countries who have no ban on the return of dueSouth. Void where prohibited or taxed. Not open to management or employees of; National Football League, Air Freedonia, Canada Hosers Inc., Cuffs R Us Industries or AstroGlide and it's subsidiaries.

1 The small pouch in his jacket pocket.

2 The 'handsome man,' 'he,' 'her Mountie friend' and her 'boyfriend.'

3 The thought of the Riv being chopped up for parts.

4 The Riv - Ray thinks of it as a person!

5 Ray's hip.

6 Horizontal jogging and calisthenics.

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