Author's website: http://heuradys.tvheaven.com

Disclaimer:

Author's Notes: Thanks to Alex for beta and to G for some last minute fact checking.

Story Notes: These recipes can be found on the Food Network's site (Thank you, Mario Batali): Stuffed Rabbit: Coniglio Arrotolato; Calf's Liver flavored with Orange: Fegato di Vitello al Arancia; Venison Stew with Prune Jam: Pastisada di Daino con Marmellata di Prugne; Almond Tart: Crostata alle Mandorle. And, of course, Opposum Farcito con il Seme Nero: Possum Stuffed with Black Seed - which isn't available anywhere outside of this story.For those unfamiliar with The Red Green Show, Hap Shaugnessy - the inveterate bullshitter - was played by Gordon Pinsent. Ranger Gord has not left his fire tower for 17 years. There are screencaps from one of Paul Gross' appearances as Kevin Black on Bast's glorious site. And duct tape is the Handyman's Secret Weapon.

Dearest Diary,

Still on holiday. Only three more days at home, here in Possum Lake, before it's back to being a Temporary Assistant Interim Associate Deputy Liaison Officer in Chicago, and I must say that I'm torn. I know I've written before - yesterday, in fact - that nothing has changed here since I left; I was wrong. There is a new part-time resident: Mr. Kevin Black. He's building a 400,000 square-foot cottage on Blood (He calls it Bluff!) Point. Diary, I am positively giddy!

Despite missing the city, its conveniences and people (and to be truthful, the access to uncomplicated, anonymous sex provided by Chicago's plethora of bars and tea rooms!), I must say that, after last night, I can't decide if it will be difficult to work under Constable Fraser again - despite wanting nothing more than to do just that for as long as I'm allowed - in any capacity. Knowing that I have performed fellatio on a man who could be his body double (although, naturally, as you well know, Diary, I have speculated often on the size and shape of Constable Fraser's genitalia, any comparison I make between the constable and Mr. Black in that regard is sadly a surmise) may have a deleterious effect on my concentration on the job. Not, of course, that the perpetual fantasies the constable inspires in me aren't impediments to concentration, but now they can't help but be more... real.

Oh, but, dear Diary, it was an extraordinary event! It was even better, in fact, than last Thursday, when I showed Ranger Gord those 'educational' films and he proved what a quick and desperate learner he is - and (unlike the good Ranger) Mr. Black did not suffer from the misapprehension that I was a hallucination, either.

I curled fairly well (see Curling Log, Volume 147, page 98), except for the unfortunate tumble I took during the eighth end, when I glanced up to the spectators' lounge and caught my first glimpse of Mr. Black. I could have sworn it was Constable Fraser standing there in that extraordinarily attractive red sweater! (But Constable Fraser would never allow his hair to be that tousled!)

Afterward, in the lounge, as Mr. Shaugnessy, who was relating to me precisely how he'd taught the famous Constable Robert Fraser everything he knew (Truly fascinating, but I don't see how it could be possible seeing they're of an age or, rather, would be of an age if Constable Fraser Sr. was still alive - and he was, at the same time, teaching the illustrious Gordon Cutter how to curl!), paused for a moment's silent remembrance of that great man, I could not help but overhear Mr. Black bemoaning the many amenities Possum Lake fails to provide, and when he headed for the club's restroom facilities, I followed.

This man's no practiced ingenue or true naif, whichever my adored fellow constable is (Although Mr. Black did seem honestly bewildered that Possum Lake is Canada's most persistently inexplicable cell phone dead zone). He only looked confused for a few seconds when I locked the door and joined him in the single stall. He quickly verified that I was not there on Duty, leaned against the wall, and unzipped his perfectly creased Dockers.

His penis is a work of art and a size queen's dream. I swear I was on my knees faster than I've ever been, and you, more than anyone, dear Diary, know what a devotee of phallic worship I am! Looking up at his face through my eyelashes, the scent of him and of generic pine cleaner (Lord knows where that odor was coming from; the restroom was an utter sty, as usual!) strong in my sinuses, his hands holding my head tightly as he thrust into my throat, I couldn't help - despite my best efforts otherwise - but picture him wearing the Uniform. When he ejaculated on my face and thanked me kindly, I lost all semblance of self-control (My favorite boxers - the ones with the tiny horses on them - are ruined!), and I am shamed to admit that in my bliss, I imagined that I had performed fellatio on my forbidden passion, my darling, my dearest Constable Fraser!

Oh, Diary, I know I'm hopeless, that it's hopeless. Constable Fraser is smitten with Detective Vecchio; Mr. Black is happily married. However, Mr. Black, at least, is willing to unknowingly give me the illusion of what I so desperately want, who I desperately crave, for the duration of my fleeting sojourn here. I pray that I have the restraint not to address him by the wrong name!

Then again, perhaps he'd discipline me deliciously if I did...

He said, as we re-hung the stall's door (I swear I barely touched it! I'm sure his foot is already better), he's learned quite a bit about the infinite uses for duct tape since he's joined the Lodge.

Tonight I'm to cook dinner for him before the meeting, because his wife did not accompany him for this visit and he's only capable of making Kraft dinner (In a microwave! How absolutely dreadful! And he's got a gourmet kitchen! Admittedly, it doesn't have gas or water, but those are such tiny concerns.). I'm thinking something simple like Coniglio Arrotolato; Opossum Farcito con il Seme Nero (I'd prefer Fegato di Vitello al Arancia, but it's so difficult to get quality calf's liver here and Mother did hit that poor, poor possum!); Pastisada di Daino con Marmellate di Prugne; and for dolce, Crostata alle Mandorle. In return, he's promised to fuck me through the mattress.

With luck, we won't make it to the meeting.

I wonder, if I ask nicely, if he'll wear my Stetson...

As always,
Renfield

End Opossum Farcito con il Seme Nero by Heuradys: thankyoukindly@comcast.net

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