Author's disclaimer: All characters and concepts are property of Alliance Communications. No infringement is intended, so please don't sue me.

Author's notes: Writing these stories has been a blast. In theory, I have one more to do, but I'll need just a little more time.

Fraser found himself outside the door of the lingerie shop he and Ray had visited earlier in the week. He wasn't entirely sure what had brought him back here, now that Joey Paducci's future was secure. Well, that wasn't entirely honest, he had an idea of what had led him here, but it wasn't something he cared to think about, much less admit. The proprietress was quite lovely and her manner could be best described as inviting. She hadn't been pushy or forward, but her eyes had shone with frank interest. When she'd unabashedly opened her blouse to show him Joey's handiwork, Ben had been drawn to the tasteful display of cleavage. While the stitching had been intricate and precise, he also taken the time to fully appreciate the promise of what the leatherwork had contained. Ray's apparent surprise of Fraser's close examination of the wares had been amusing.

Ben felt a slight blush rise to his cheeks at the memory and checked his watch. Perfect. The shop would be closing in about 15 minutes and he hoped to ask the owner out for coffee. While he wanted to remain circumspect, dating was something he'd always wanted to try. Now that he was stationed in a large metropolis, his opportunities were staggering. So staggering, in fact, that it was stupefying. He found it difficult however, to overcome his long-standing practice of keeping women at arm's length. This woman was unlike so many others. While he was uncertain of where this would lead, he felt he really needed to explore the possibilities.

It had been so long since he'd had the pleasure of a woman's company for an evening. Ms. King hardly counted as a date. While he'd entertained a spark of hope that it might turn into something more, he'd known from the start that she wanted information from him rather than companionship. Ben hoped that it wasn't sheer desperation that had led him here, but it was far easier to be alone in the vast wilderness than here in the city, surrounded by happy couples. Even unhappy couples, for that matter. His neighbors, the Mondragons, argued often and passionately, but they also reconciled in an equally passionate manner. The sounds of their lovemaking frequently echoed through the halls of the old building, making him even more conscious of his loneliness.

Bells tinkled as he opened the door. A voice from the back told him she'd be out in a minute and Fraser was relieved that it was the same voice he'd heard a few days earlier. He looked around again at the merchandise on display and tried not to imagine her wearing such things. It was too distracting. Soft music played in the background and the air was fragrant with the scent of lavender. While trying to figure out a particularly intricate item he heard her greeting:

"Constable, how nice to see you again!" she sounded genuinely pleased by his visit.

"Yes, ma'am. How are you today?" he managed.

Her wavy dark hair was as beautiful as he remembered and her silky, blue blouse showed her athletic figure to good advantage.

"I'm good. Did you and the detective find Joey? Is he all right?" The woman rearranged some clothing on a display.

"Yes, um, I believe that we came to an arrangement with Mr. Zuko." Ben smoothed an eyebrow with his thumbnail.

"Hmm, looks like that 'arrangement' involved some persuasion," she said, indicating the fading bruises on his face.

"Yes, well, Mr. Zuko wasn't terribly agreeable at first," Ben answered, embarrassed since he'd forgotten all about them.

He followed her towards the display case at the front of the store.

"Does it hurt?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Not anymore, Miss . . . I'm sorry, I don't believe I ever got your name."

"Sara, Constable Frasier wasn't it?" she held out her hand and he took it.

"Fraser, ma'am. Benton . . . or, er . . . Ben," he held her hand and looked into clear hazel eyes.

"Well, Ben, what brings you to my door again? Are you in the market for something for a special lady?" her smile had lost none of its wattage.

"Uh, no. I was wondering, well hoping, actually, that you, uh, might be free for coffee. Or tea," he licked his lower lip, "or . . . er. . . perhaps you might like something to eat."

Not for the first time he wished he was more practiced at this.

Her smile widened, showing even white teeth and she looked as if she might tease him, then reconsidered, "I'd love to . . .um, Ben. Just let me finish closing and we can go, all right?"

Ben smiled back, "Yes, of course, I'll just, ahem, wait . . . here." He moved back a step into a modified parade rest.

Sara gave him a questioning look and with a concentrated effort he tried to assume less rigid position. When she looked to her cash drawer, he dropped his head in a gesture of defeat. His formal demeanor had stood him in good stead during his career as an officer, but he found it difficult to transition to a more casual social situation. He hoped it would become easier as he became more acquainted with her. His eyes fell onto the glass case and decided that its contents would provide ample distraction.

Most of the items were more or less recognizable. Frilly bras were placed next to improbable garter belts and panties that seemed to be missing crucial parts. Ben quickly averted his gaze from the provocative garments only to gaze upon the specialty condoms. Some claimed to be flavored, while others sported neon colors and glow in the dark capabilities. He found these enough of a curiosity to avoid mortification. A sign above this collection proclaimed "For Him." Not limited to the condoms, the display included some very abbreviated men's briefs in silky fabrics and loud colors and patterns, some with catchy phrases on them. Fraser couldn't think of anything worse than to be found dead wearing such an item.

Sara watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering which objects would capture his interest. Apparently he didn't get out much, but she found his disorientation rather charming.

Something off in the corner of the case caught his eye. Rings, far too large to be worn on the hand, overlapped each other in an arrangement reminiscent of the Olympic rings. Some seemed to be plastic, others leather and rubber, but they were all about the same diameter of about two inches, give or take. A few had a little knob or two placed on the edge. He felt his face begin to flush as he suddenly recognized their purpose.

Sara noticed his interest. "Anything I can get for you?"

Fraser straightened up so fast she thought she heard his spine snap.

"No, no, just, er, looking, thank you," he stuttered, then twisted his neck to the side.

This time Sara was positive she heard a pop.

"You sure?" she asked again, wishing he'd relax just a bit.

Sara could only imagine what this buttoned up Mountie would be like in a more intimate setting. She hoped she'd get a chance to find out, but he looked as if he might bolt if she moved too quickly. Everything about this man was precise, from the knot in his tie to the shine on his shoes.

Ben watched her as she closed up for the day. Her movements were fluid and graceful, the untamed hair inviting his fingers to entwine in the waves. Her fingers were long, nails groomed to a moderate length and polished with pale pink lacquer that matched her lipstick. He imagined how those lips would feel against his. Would she be assertive in deepening the kiss, taking from him what she desired? It surprised him to realize that such an approach wouldn't be entirely unwelcome. Or would she be more passive, allowing him to explore her, finding her secrets in his own time. This too was an enticing possibility. He gave himself a mental shake. This train of thought was unseemly. She wasn't some object to be used for his entertainment. Still, his self-reproach didn't keep him from appreciating her virtues.

"I'm just about finished here, Ben, would you get my jacket please?" Sara asked as she closed up the cash drawer.

"Of course," he returned from his reverie with a questioning look and she indicated an alcove near the door.

As Fraser retrieved the soft, black leather jacket, Sara slipped one of the rings into her pocket. 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained,' she thought as she smiled at him.

Fraser offered her his arm after Sara locked up and they walked to a nearby caf.

Several hours passed and considerably more than coffee, as well. They'd stayed on for a light supper and chatted amicably about the neighborhood, Chicago and the Northwest Territories. While Sara was fascinated with Ben's stories of the arctic, Fraser was equally interested in her stories of spending her childhood summers in northern Wisconsin. Much to his delight, Sara had a deep appreciation of nature.

Her apartment wasn't far from the restaurant and Ben walked her home by the light of the full moon. A chilly breeze off the lake made Sara shiver and he put his arm around her to ward it off. He realized that it was a bit forward, for him anyway, but she welcomed his touch.

"You know, some believe that a full moon makes people a little crazy. Do you think that's true?" Sara asked glancing up at it, taking in his shadowed features as well.

"Well, the ancient Romans believed so. In fact, the word, lunacy, comes from the Latin word for the moon, Luna. In the far north, the moon can't be seen for months at a time, so it can be said that some people certainly behave differently in its presence. Of course, then it's dark for months as well, so that's hardly a fair sampling." Ben looked down into her face, a trace of a smile on her lips. Perhaps that wasn't the answer she was looking for.

Clearing his throat, he tried again, "Emergency personnel have often noted, though it's purely anecdotal, that they seem to be busier during a full moon. Scientific study of hospital admissions and crime statistics don't seem to support their observations, but the belief persists." He looked at her again, and let out a small sigh. He still hadn't answered her question of what he believed.

"I believe that rational people sometimes need a way to explain irrational behavior. The moon is a convenient scapegoat. Irrational people usually don't feel the need to explain their behavior at all."

As they walked on, Fraser felt completely defeated for the second time in one evening. He suspected she was looking for a more romantic answer and he'd given her a scientific treatise. If he lived to be a hundred, he wasn't sure he'd ever get the hang of social banter.

As they neared her building, Sara hadn't been disappointed in his answers, really. Was he really this clueless or was it an act to disarm her? Well, clueless probably wasn't quite right. His manners were impeccable and his answers were very logical and precise. Perhaps she needed to be more direct.

"So, Ben, which are you? Rational or irrational?"

"Hmm. What do you think, Sara?" He answered back, a bit of a sparkle in his eyes.

"Uhhhh, rational. But I'm sure you have your irrational moments."

"You're quite correct, but what makes you say so?

They'd reached her door and she took a moment to get her keys before answering.

"Well, I think everyone has their impulsive moments. Some more than others. If they're normal, that is. You seem pretty normal to me."

"Thank you, Sara," a small smile graced his lips, but his eyes held just a hint of sadness.

Sara opened the door and gestured him inside, but Ben hung back, venturing no further than the threshold.

"Please, come in. Would you like a nightcap?"

"No, thank you," looking at his shoes, then to the side, "ah, it's late, I should . . ."

"How about a cup of tea, then?" she quickly interjected, "Please, I'd like to finish our conversation."

Ben now met her eyes directly, his voice softer and deeper than their earlier banter, "All right."

"Then why don't you have a seat and I'll just get the tea."

He finally crossed the threshold and Sara led him to the loveseat, then disappeared into the next room.

Fraser sat down, a bit rigidly at first, then made an effort to affect a more relaxed posture. Easing himself back, resting his hands on his thighs, and tried to collect his thoughts. He had really intended to see Sara to her door and go home. But she'd moved imperceptibly closer when making her second request and he'd caught her scent. Not simply the floral fragrance of her perfume, but the subtle musk of her skin and hair. Ben had surprised even himself with his answer. But what would happen now? Tea, certainly, but . . .was he prepared for more? He would just have to wait and see.

In the kitchen, Sara put the kettle on to boil and thought about Ben's quick acceptance of her invitation, while she prepared the pot and cups. Most men hang around the door waiting for an invitation, but he while was quite prepared to leave, he'd quickly agreed to a cup of tea. Had the suggestion of alcohol put him off? Or was he merely displaying more of those perfect manners? The speed and quiet intensity of his answer had given her a little shiver of delight. For the first time she had gotten a tiny glimpse of the passion that may lurk beneath the controlled exterior.

Sara rejoined Ben in the living room until the kettle whistled.

"It'll be a few minutes 'til the water boils, so where were we?"

"Irrational impulses, I believe," Ben answered quickly, angling his body to face her as she joined him on the couch.

"Yes, that's right. I'm sure you have your moments, we all do," she leaned towards him.

"Most definitely - Ray, Detective Vecchio, who you've met, would agree with you," Ben offered.

Her scent drifted to him again and he noted that both his respiration and heart rate increased in response. It was having an unmistakably erotic effect on him. Her distinctly feminine musk underlay the perfume, soaps and lotions she'd used throughout the day. Not to mention the teasing glimpse of cleavage revealed when she leaned toward him.

"He would, huh? I remember him, snappy dresser, right?"

"Yes, he would. And yes, he takes pride in his appearance. I'm afraid that my impulsive manner in law enforcement occasionally causes him consternation." He felt safer sticking to his more professional incidents.

The kettle whistled and Sara excused herself to get the tea while Ben concentrated on the simple but elegant furnishings of the apartment. A television was centered on a table directly across from the sofa, a low coffee table sitting squarely in the remaining space. A few magazines and carved boxes shared the tabletop along with a potted plant. The dominant colors were deep forest greens and browns. Very . . .restful, he thought, though 'restful' didn't quite describe his mood.

Sara returned with teapot and cups on a tray, placing it on the table as she reseated herself. Ben was certain that she sat just a bit closer this time. Brushing her arm against his knee, she poured the tea and handed him a cup, finally straightening after pouring her own.

"Very nice, thank you. A Ceylon blend?" he asked.

"Yeah, you definitely know your tea," Sara smiled, "but I guess that comes with the territory, huh?"

"Territory?" he was momentarily puzzled, but then understood, "Oh you mean being Canadian."

"Mmm hmm," sipping her own tea.

Sara leaned near to him again to set her cup down, bringing them in close proximity again. Ben couldn't resist reaching out to touch her hair as it swung near his face, engulfing him in that intoxicating scent. She tilted his face toward him at the contact and read the uncertainty in his eyes. He seemed frozen in place, his eyes searching hers as if seeking an answer there. She felt pulled in, drawn as if by magnetism to him, feeling his breath on her mouth. What was he waiting for?

"It's ok . . .really," she whispered.

"Yeah," his eyes drifted over her face.

"Yes, please . . ."

Ben finally traveled the final distance and brushed his lips against hers in the gentlest of kisses. Sara froze, not wanting to spoil the moment, feeling herself respond to him. Desire ignited quickly in her belly, but she felt no need to rush, holding steady under his ministrations. His kiss was almost hesitant as he threaded his free hand into her hair.

Sara moaned quietly in her throat and Ben pulled back and searched her eyes again. She took the forgotten teacup from him and placing it on the table, put her hand on his shoulder encouraging him to continue. His lips plucked at hers, taking them between his own. She felt a warm rough palm on her cheek, and after what seemed an eternity, she felt his tongue sweep over her lower lip. Sara parted hers, allowing him entrance and he accepted the invitation. She inhaled sharply at the sensation of warm velvet caressing her teeth and palate, releasing the breath on a moan. Ben pulled away only enough to exhale his own held breath and it whispered across her lips in its escape. It added yet another dimension to the sensations suffusing her senses. He smelled like leather, soap and hair dressing, clean and somehow . . . wild. There was an untamed quality to his kisses that called to her own primal spirit.

Sara buried her fingers in his hair, sucked on his tongue and a groan emerged from somewhere deep in Ben's chest. She felt her nipples stiffen in response, the tingle continuing down her arms until her hands tightened in his hair. His hand dropped from her hair to her knee, just skimming the hose covered flesh, while the other slipped around the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

Sara dropped her jaw and her tongue took its turn in his mouth, slipping over and around the sharp surfaces of his teeth. He trembled and clutched her tighter, hand slipping under her short skirt, where his fingers encountered the bare skin of her thigh above the top of her stockings. He massaged the muscles on either side of the slender column of her neck and he fell back against the cushions, bringing her with him.

Pressed against the solid expanse of Ben's chest, his fingers grazed the back of her thigh and snagged briefly on a garter as it was withdrawn. Before she could protest the loss, the hand rested on her hip, slowly stroking up her side.

Sara's kisses were driving him mad. Passion and need, so long locked away behind duty and honor, had awakened with surprising force, demanding release. Ben both welcomed and feared the powerful arousal that was growing within him. He desperately wanted to lose himself in her, if only for a few hours, but feared what that said about him as a human being. Almost of its own volition, his hand moved from her waist to her breast, encased in fine silk. Sara shifted to the side, allowing him to encircle it with his broad hand. He felt the sharp peak of her nipple beneath his thumb and he circled it through her light clothing.

Sara pulled away to moan and he moved his mouth to her throat. With tongue and teeth, he traced the contours, inciting her further and she arched into his touch. Ben barely noticed as Sara loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt collar, but his body reacted strongly to her teeth and lips on his neck. He gasped at the pleasure of her mouth on him and knew that he was lost. Dragging his hands from her body, he hastily removed his Sam Browne, pulling it free and dropping it to the floor, soon followed by his jacket. Sara made short work of his shirt as he unbuttoned her blouse.

Ben froze after unfastening the last button of Sara's blouse, fear warring with passion in his eyes. Wordlessly, she took his hand and placed it under her blouse, just above her left breast. She hoped it would give him the encouragement he seemed to need. A long moment passed, Ben looking from his hand to her face, before he shifted towards her until she partially reclined on the sofa, his other hand supporting her back.

Claiming her mouth again, Ben caressed the bare skin of her chest, side and belly. Every nerve alive with his touch, she skimmed the shirt from his shoulders and tugged the undershirt out of his trousers, seeking out the warm skin beneath. Sara's arousal climbed to another level pressed into the cushions by his lower body, the wool slacks a bit prickly where Ben's knee rested between her thighs. She rubbed her legs against his to assuage the itch developing both from arousal and contact with the fabric.

Ben's normal reticence evaporated under the influence of her body. She was obviously quite comfortable with this type of activity and her confidence lent him the fortitude to see it through to its logical conclusion. Freed of his normal constraints, he reached around to her back and released the hooks of her bra, trailing his hand back to cup a breast in his hand.

Breaking the kiss to look down at her, he pulled the bra away.

"Beautiful," he breathed, gazing at her breasts.

Golden tan gave way to pale skin in a triangular shape. A dusky nipple, puckered to a hard point, was perfectly framed in the center. He circled it with his thumb, then brushed across it and Sara gasped in pleasure. Dropping his head, he drew his tongue across the nub, then blew on it, pleased to see it peak even further before taking it fully into his mouth and drawing gently. Its owner groaned and lifted her hips toward his in an unmistakable gesture of longing.

In some small part of his mind, Ben marveled at natural simplicity and beauty of making love. Now fully involved in the act, he took pleasure in the changes in his own body, making him a little light-headed. His breathing and heart rate were both elevated and he could feel the heat of a flush on his skin. Sara's hands on his back and sides had instigated a definite stirring in his groin and when she applied her nails, he felt his more primitive nature come alive and a low growl emerged from his throat.

One of his hands had found its way under her skirt and moved from caressing her hip to the apex of her thighs, covered in silky fabric. Tearing himself away from her breasts he claimed her mouth in a deep kiss and his fingers found their way under her panties to her sex, soft and wet. He was reminded of something Innusiq had told him when they were both curious teenagers; 'Men have hard bits and women have soft bits, Ben,' he'd said, though neither had been quite sure of exactly what that had meant.

Ben took a long moment to acquaint himself with the landscape, tracing her with his fingertips. Using a feather-light touch, he found the tiny bundle of nerves and brushed over it several times, rendering Sara quite breathless, her body reacting to each stroke as she moaned his name. Changing his position, he looked down into her face as he gently pushed a finger into her welcoming warmth, soon followed by a second. He was almost lost when she smiled at him as she clasped at his fingers. Stroking her clitoris with his thumb produced an even stronger response and she pressed down into his hand as her back arched, her eyes closing as she cried out in pleasure.

Slowly withdrawing his hand, he was taken by surprise when she suddenly reversed their positions. Sara sat up and straddled his thighs as she stripped off his undershirt and unfastened his trousers, roughly pulling them to his thighs. Pushing him back, she lowered herself over him, breasts grazing his chest, and put her mouth to his neck. Ben marveled that she seemed to find every sensitive spot, licking behind his ear, using her teeth on his shoulders and collarbone while his penis throbbed under her. Every swipe of her tongue and teeth brought forth a corresponding rush of blood to his rigid organ and ragged moans from his throat.

Slowly Sara worked her way down his chest, nibbling at his nipples along the way, until she reached the elastic of his starched boxers. She was momentarily amused but quickly distracted by the shape of what they contained. Tracing his shape through the cotton, she was pleased at his "Mmmm . . . yesssss," when she flicked her fingers over the head.

Wondering if this straight-laced, starched Canadian had ever had a decent blow-job, Sara decided to give it her very best effort. Obligingly, Ben lifted his hips when she began to remove his shorts and pushed them to his knees along with the trousers. Sliding back a bit, she cupped his testicles as she appraised his manhood. Nicely sized and well-formed, his cock rose proudly from a nest of dark chocolate curls. When she squeezed the shaft, the dark red head swelled and she smiled when she realized he was uncircumcised. She'd always had a thing for uncut men and experimentally sliding the foreskin over the head, she was rewarded with a sharp gasp.

Bending down, she slid her tongue from base to tip on the underside and Ben arched off the sofa with an "Oh God, Sara!" She wrapped her lips around him and took him in as deeply as she could. Since he wasn't overly large she could take most of him in easily. Looking up, she saw he was watching her, mouth open, eyes slightly glazed. She stroked him several times with her mouth, paying special attention to the sensitive area beneath the head and he licked his lips as he moaned and closed his eyes.

Ben had never felt anything quite this wonderful in his life. Long ago someone had attempted to please him this way, but they had been quite young and he'd thought the act demeaning and subservient and stopped her. To the contrary, Sara seemed to be enjoying herself immensely and he realized that it was he who was subservient in this instance, and she the one in control. Sara skillfully brought him to a fever pitch, then cooled him by judicious use of her teeth on the shaft, gently squeezing to give him an entirely different type of stimulation, but equally pleasurable.

Just when he thought he could stand it no longer, she shifted her weight and stood to remove the last of her clothing, retrieving the cock ring at the last moment. Almost as an afterthought, she pulled off Ben's shoes, socks, trousers and shorts, leaving them in a heap on the floor. Opening one of the carved boxes on the coffee table she withdrew a small square packet. Hiding the cock ring behind the condom packet she regained her position on his thighs. She tore it open and Ben closed his eyes, his head falling back as she applied it. His eyes flew open again, though, at the sensation of something tightening at the base of his penis. Looking down he was surprised to find one of the rings from the display case constricting him, a bright blue bead at the top, tails trailing out.

"Oh! Dear! . . ." was all he could bring himself to say.

"Shhh, Ben, it's ok, you'll see," Sara soothed as she stroked him through the latex.

He couldn't form any concrete objection and his primal spirit was surging again with arousal so he acquiesced as Sara sunk down onto his engorged penis. She took him only shallowly at first and the sensation was intense, Ben sucking in deep breaths, before she took him in completely. Slowly, she began rocking back and forth on him and he looked down to see that the orientation of the bead wasn't random. Watching her, Ben understood that she was stimulating herself with it and he felt the pressure in his penis grow again. Sara put her hands on his chest to balance herself and he steadied her with his hands on her hips as she started to move on him in earnest.

He was soon lost in the feeling of her muscles around him. Stimulated as she was, there was a constant rhythm of tightened muscles. Suspended in a state of near-orgasm, he very nearly exploded when Sara's strong climax took her. Shaking and loud cries accompanied her release and he waited until the contractions had leveled off before holding her tightly to him and reversing their positions.

Sara's dilated eyes smiled up at him. The need to ejaculate was a pleasant ache in his balls. He intended to be slow and gentle, but instinct overrode him.

"Please . . . Sara . . ., I need . . .," he apologized as he began to thrust.

"Mmm, you feel wonderful. . .Ben," she purred, feeling another orgasm build in response to his powerful strokes.

"Uhhh . . . yes, but I . . . have to . . .," he again tried to explain, found he didn't know how.

"Ahhh . . . do you want to come? Huh?" at his affirmative groan, she tightened her muscles again, "Ohh. . .yeah. . . don't worry . . . come on then Ben,"

"Ohhh . . . yes . . . Ahh. . .," having gained her understanding, he let go of any reservations he may have had and gripping her hips, set his own pace, long, forceful strokes replacing his previously controlled efforts.

Sara delighted in his abandon, his beauty, as he let passion overtake him. Sweat beads formed on his chest and forehead and his low moans sounded almost like growls.

Held on the knife-edge of an explosive orgasm, Ben felt sweat roll down his back, a pleasant tingle extending from the hair on his head to the tips of his toes. He felt Sara's muscles draw taut and changed the angle of his entry for maximum effect for both of them. His entire body was like a rubber band, stretched to full capacity. Entering shallowly, the sensation was magnified and he balanced on the verge of climax, the constriction extending the moment as he maintained a quick pace.

"Oh! . . . Ah! . . .I'm . . . uh . . ." he chanted, finally looking down at where they were joined.

The rubber band snapped and Ben plunged deeply, frantically into her as he trembled and clutched at her under the force of the most powerful orgasm of his life. Sara followed him with her own powerful climax, heightening and lengthening his release. It was several long moments before he stopped moving and released his grip on her. It was even longer before his panting ceased and he was capable of any meaningful movement or speech. He was horrified to see that he'd drooled on her shoulder and quickly wiped it away in a motion he hoped she'd interpret as a caress.

"Sara . . . I don't know what to say. That was . . .extraordinary . . .to say the least," he said finally as they moved apart.

"You were incredible, Ben. Absolutely mind-blowing," she crooned as she removed the cock ring and condom, since he'd seemed uncertain of how to do it himself.

"I feel I should tell you that I don't, um, well, it's not that I've never . . ." he wasn't sure how to confess his own lack of experience, "I apologize if . . .Sara, I don't have much experience at this and I apologize if I neglected some . . .thing. . .that shouldn't have been. . . well, neglected."

Sara wasn't at all sure of what he was trying to say, but reassured him, "No, Ben, you didn't neglect anything, believe me. You were wonderful. Really."

"Thank you kindly. . . you were, uh, exquisite." He paused, "Though that . . ." he indicated the cock ring, "was a bit of a surprise."

Sara twirled it on her finger, "well, I saw you looking at them in the store and thought you might like a little demonstration. For a moment I thought I'd have to call the paramedics."

"Oh. Well," he blushed and cleared his throat, "For a moment I wondered myself. It certainly did. . . er, enhance, the um . . .experience. Though I must confess I don't have much to compare it to."

"Oh my God! You weren't a. . . I mean, I assumed that . . .Oh, Ben, was that your first time?" she looked genuinely distressed.

"Oh! Oh, no. No, no. It's just that the few . . .encounters," he looked to be sure she understood, "I've had were quite a long time ago. A number of years to be honest."

He forced his mind away from his memory of Victoria, the very last woman he'd made love to and the disastrous result. Time to put the past behind him, he thought.

"Oh, good. I didn't think so, but I wouldn't want that to be someone's very first experience." She sighed with obvious relief.

Glancing at his watch, he realized that it really was quite late now and that Diefenbaker was going to be quite cross with him. He hoped it wouldn't be rude to leave so soon after making love.

"I'm sorry to say this, and I hope it's not improper, but I really do have to leave now. I'm afraid Diefenbaker's going to be quite put out with me." He explained.

"No, it's quite all right, but who's Diefenbaker?" she asked, suspicion creeping in.

Certainly he wasn't married, not after what he'd just told her.

"My wolf. Well, half-wolf actually, but he's very sensitive about it. It's long past time for our evening walk." He explained.

"Oh. Oh! I hope you don't have a mess to clean up when you get home," she hoped the relief didn't show.

"I doubt that, he'll let himself out the window if his need is dire, or even if it isn't, but he'll be cross just the same. Don't worry, he'll come around, he always does, eventually," he explained as he reclaimed his clothing.

Ben was resigned to the fact that Dief would make him pay for his transgression, the only unknown was for just how long.

Sara was surprised at how quickly the man was able to dress. Maybe they have drills like the fire department, she mused. Throwing on her blouse and skirt, she showed him to the door as he finished buckling the Sam Browne into place. The only obvious sign that anything had transpired between them was his hair, which was in charming disarray. She decided not to tell him.

"I had a wonderful evening, Ben, thank you," she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him goodnight and was pleased when he returned it avidly.

"As did I, Sara. Thank you again. I'd like to see you again, if that's agreeable," he smiled.

Ben observed her closely for any reluctance to see him again. Far from it, she smiled, "Yes, I'd like that."

"Well, good night. Sleep well," he said, feeling awkward, as if he should say more.

"You too, good night," she answered, closing the door.

Ben looked at the door for a moment before leaving the building. It was lovely night, the full moon now almost setting. Perhaps this would be the beginning of something for him, he thought. Perhaps the full moon had something to do with it.

What Ben didn't know, couldn't possibly have known then, was that Victoria would reappear in his life before he ever saw Sara again. Sara would become a road not taken and to which he would never return.

THE END