Author's website: http://freespace.virgin.net/jodie.mouse

Disclaimer: borrowed from Alliance and ITC.

Author's Notes: thanks D. thanks Peter Wyngarde for being such a brilliant actor.

Story Notes: this is a cross with an early seventies British cult TV programme called Jason King. it is a bit of a giggle. i have stolen the title from an episode of Jason King and one of Jason's lines is lifted directly from the same ep. you'll know the line when you read it.

"The Company I Keep"
By Jodie Louise

I stagger into the precinct with a raging hangover. Everyone's staring as I get in late yet again. I collaspe at my desk and rest my forehead on the wood. It feels cool against my skin. I could stay here all day.

"Vecchio!"

Damn. Welsh. I raise my head from the desk. Welsh looks mad.

"You're late Detective. In here now." he says gesturing to his office.

"Look Lieu -" I say.

"Vecchio. Be quiet."

Welsh practically pushes me into his room. Then I notice the guy - moustache, blond streaks in his hair. He's wearing a well tailored suit and the cuffs of his shirt are folded over his jacket. I look up at him an' realise it's the writer Jason King.

Then he opens his mouth and talks to me in some kinda gobbledegook. Don't understand him. I think I am just standing there with my mouth open 'cos I don't know what he is saying and this is Jason King the crime writer...an' I've read all his books, all six million of them.

Jason frowns at me.

"How interesting. An Italian-American who can't speak Italian. Who doesn't look that Italian either." he says.

Welsh rolls his eyes: "Thought you were gonna have Italian lessons."

I shuffle a bit. S'true.

"I started to but Jason must be speaking in some kinda weird - er- dialogue."

"Dialect. And no I wasn't." he pauses, "Your real name?"

"Ray Kowalski but ya gotta call me Ray Vecchio 'cos I'm undercover."

"Kowalski - Polish?"

I nod. Then he speaks some Polish - pick up some of it but...this is embarrassing.

"Don't speak much Polish." I mumble.

I stare at my hands.

"Ah. Well perhaps we better get to business Detective Vecchio." sighs Jason.

I can tell he's disappointed.

"This is Jason King. As well as being a writer he works for Department S a special investigation unit in England." Welsh explains.

"Wha - you're like a spy?"

Jason smiles.

"In a way. I was retired from Department S until my tax bill required me to help them - again."

"Anyway Kow- Vecchio. I'm pairing you with Jason while he's in Chicago. You're gonna help him with anything he needs."

I glance at Jason who's fiddling with his cufflinks.

"That's how ya write those stories then? Mark Caine is you?"

Jason looks up at me and smiles. Jeez - he's got weird teeth. An' his face sorta reminds me of a beaten up leather bag, an' I'm sure men in their mid-forties ain't supposed to wear their hair quite so long, or have blond streaks.

Wha am I complaining `bout? Only a little way off the big 4-0 myself and I dye my hair.

Anyhow in the flesh I find Jason very sexy. Dunno why. I mean s'not like he's really pretty or anything. I think it's more his -- attitude. The way he holds himself. I wonder if he likes skinny blonds?

"I'm on the trail of a Jean Du Cros. He was a well know Belgian jewel thief. Disappeared a few years ago. Think he'll be able to help with a case Department S want me to work on."

"An' this guy's in Chicago?"

"I believe so, in fact I am certain of it."

I'm glad Fraser is on that mountie course thing in Ottawa. `Cos I want Jason all to myself. Fraser has this habit of attracting all the attention. Must be the uniform. I grin and drape my arm around Jason's shoulder.

"C'mon. Let's go." I say steering Jason outta Welsh's office.

I like Jason's pants - they grip his ass so tight. Jeez. Kowalski. Down boy. Bad as Dief is with that poodle thing that lives in my block.

"Where d'ya think this Doocross guy hangs out?"

"It's Du Cros. Oh never mind. He likes expensive bars."

"Gotcha. I know some places we can start in."

"Not looking like that."

I stop and turn to him.

"Wha's wrong with the way I look?"

"You need to have a bit more style - panache. I'll take you shopping."

"Nah. Ya having a laugh. On my salary?"

Jason's taste in clothes looked very expensive an' I sure as hell was not paying for some sharp suit. With flares. Jason's pants are flared - and he's snakeskin boots. Jeez.

"Department S will pay. It'll be expenses. I'm not taking you around bars dressed like that. And I'm going to take you to a good barber - do you have barbers in Chicago?"

"Not the hair. Jeez - you're not touching the hair. I like it like this."

I'm pouting at him. Jason is staring at me.

"Actually the hair does suit you like that. You can have a shave instead. But I am getting you those clothes."

Oh gawd.

"I know a good tailor here. I make sure wherever I go I know a good tailor."

"I prefer hand-made suits myself but we haven't got the time."

I'm trying on some off-the-peg stuff in this clothes shop.

"That will have to do." Jason says.

I look down at myself and the lilac fabric that I'm wearing. Jason said something `bout it bringing out my natural colouring. It is the suit that fits me the best. But lilac...if the guys at the precinct see me in this...Jeez. The purple shirt is almost as bad `cept Jason called the colour damson or something.

He goes to the counter to pay. I go to change back into my jeans.

"No you don't Ray. You're wearing the suit now."

I sigh scooping up my T-shirt, jeans and boots. These Italian shoes are pinching me. How the hell am I expected to catch bad guys in these? Now I understand what Stella meant when she used to complain `bout those pointy shoes I liked her wearing.

I slightly limp as I walk outta the shop and put my clothes in the trunk. Jason follows.

"Ray. The tag."

"Wha -"

"The price tag."

Jason gently clasps my wrist and takes the tag off of the sleeve of the suit. He is close and it makes me feel all prickly. His eyes are strange colour an' I can't decide if they're blue, gray or brown. I think they are all three.

"There. Perfect. I still think we should do something with your hair."

He is staring at my hair and I almost think he might touch it for a moment. I'm getting off on this.

I turn away from him and slam the trunk closed.

"Told ya. No."

It has been a long evening. No luck finding Doo Croquet or what ever his name is. This is the sixth place we've gone thinking this Belgian guy might be there. We're now drinking something called Cognac. He kept saying it until I could say it properly and spelt it for me and everything. Jason is educating me in European spirits - he told me he spends a lot of time in Europe and not very much in England - something to do with taxes.

"D'you smoke?" I ask offering Jason a cigarette.

"I've got my own - try these."

He goes to his jacket pocket and pulls out one of those cigarette case things. Looks gold plated. It's very sexual the way he just flips the case open, takes a cigarette and places it in my lips. Or may be I'm just being horny.

A gold lighter also appears and he lights the cigarette for me.

"They're French."

I take a puff on it.

"Don't taste that much different to me."

"Philistine."

I'm about to ask him what that means when this guy in a dark suit comes over.

"Jayson King. Iz a pleasure."

Jeez - the guy's got one terrible accent. Jason doesn't even look at him.

"Monsieur Du Cros. I've been looking for you."

An' then he's off talking in some kind of gobbledegook again. Belgian? Well it sounds like French. Do Belgians speak French like some Canadians do?

The Belgian guy keeps gesturing to me and looks mad. Jason turns and looks at me.

"Ray, stay here. Du Cros wants to see me on my own."

"Are ya sure that's a good idea?"

"Zhut up. Monsieur Yank." says the Belgian pointing at me.

I swear his accent is now sounding German.

"Dunno wha the problem is - not like I can understand ya or anything."

"Ray." says Jason squeezing my forearm.

He lets go and walks with Belgian guy to a table in the corner. I rub my arm where Jason touched it. Almost like he's burnt my skin with his hand. Duh. Kowalski.

I wave at the barman.

"D'you do any beer in here?"

He plonks a bottle in front of me.

"Wha's this weird writing on it?"

"It's Czech."

Check? Oh Czech. I take a swig. Not bad.

I watch Jason at the table. The Belgian guy slips Jason an envelope which he puts in his jacket. They shake hands and the Belgian guys leaves. Jason comes back over.

"Got what you wanted?"

"Yes."

"Greatness."

"I'll need to fly back tomorrow now. Book a flight to London."

Jason gestures the barman over.

"Could I borrow your telephone please."

The barman plonks it on the bar in front of Jason who starts trying to book tickets.

An' I feel kinda sad he's going, he most definitely is a freak. A very sexy freak. An' I know I've gotta make my move soon if I want him. I down the rest of my beer and change my posture to a `fuck me' one. Jeez. Become Kowalski the slut.

When he turns `round to look at me and I can see that I'm a slut. I think he likes.

"Come back to my hotel room." he says, more commands than asks.

"Okay."

We both get up and leave the bar - I leave some bills on the counter.

"Wha's in the envelope?"

"The information I came here to get."

"Which is?"

"Classified." he grins at me.

So I'm never gonna find out what he's up to. Fucking whatever-they-call-those-British-FBI-type-guys. Probably call them `sneaky bastards'. Still...he's got a good ass.

Straight away when we're in the room he's all over me. Tongue everywhere it is fantastic. He breaks the kiss and starts undoing his tie and shirt.

"I never disrobe unilaterally." he says staring at me.

Huh? Oh - he wants me to take my clothes off. I think I can do that. So I peel the stuff off. An' then we're kissing, rubbing `gainst one another. I rub my hand through his chest hair. He must have one of the most hairy chests I've ever seen. S'like stroking Dief.

Jason pushes me back on the bed and sticks fingers inside me. His other hand I hear rummaging in a drawer for condoms and lube. The fingers are really doing it for me. And then he's slicking me up...

He's got an even better cock. Strong, firm strokes. Jeez. It's not gonna take long.

It feels sad when he pulls outta me. `Cos he was good real good. I sigh and flop down onto the bed. Jason reaches for his cigarette case and offers me one. I take it and let him light it for me.

An orange book lands in my lap.

"I know you're a fan."

"Jeez. Thanks. This a new book?" I ask `cos I don't recognise the cover or the title.

"Yes. You'll have a sneak preview. It's not due out in America until next year."

"You ever come back to Chicago you think?"

"Yes. I think I will. I`m sure I can find some reason." Jason says laying back on the bed and lighting a cigarette.

Gawd. I hope he does.

End The Company I Keep by Jodie Louise: jodie.mouse@virgin.net

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