This
is my virgin effort, so please be gentle. 

Idea taken from posts by Carri Ann Copas and Laura Higgins.

Rated PG-13 for adult situation.

All standard disclaimers apply (Alliance owns 'em.  I just play with
'em.  Don't sue me, please.).

IN FLAGRANTE DELECTO

by Leigh A. Adams

 Ray Vecchio stared at the two bodies on the floor of Benny's office
with naked disbelief etched on his face.  Perhaps naked wasn't the best
choice of adjective considering he'd followed a trail of discarded red
serge turnics, Sam Browne belts, and other Mountie parphernalia into
the office.  Vecchio had mercifully been spared a complete view of the
two people rolling around the floor.

    Actually, all he could see were two bare feet and two booted feet--neither
a matching pair--and trouser-clad legs.  Ray mentally thanked God for
small miracles, but he winced when a moan escaped one of the wrestling
Mounties.  _Benny finally snapped_, he thought with a sigh.  Ray knew
his friend had developed a thing for the woman moaning, but he couldn't
believe Fraser would so easily forget protocols on fraternization--not
to mention the common sense involved in actually closing a door--to take
a roll on the floor with the Dragon Lady. 
     Ray made a polite cough and grinned wickedly when Thatcher's tousled
head appeared over Fraser's painfully neat desk.  Her face was flushed,
her expression pricelessly horrified.  Yep, he was going to get some
mileage out of this.  "Inspector," he drawled and gave her a gleeful
grin. 
     She stammered, "Vecchio, this isn't what you think."

     Ray crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.  "So what
_is_ it?"

     Thatcher rose to her feet.  Her suspenders were hanging down from
the waistband of her trousers, and her white undershirt was untucked.
She stepped from behind the desk.  Her fingers nervously threaded together
and unlaced only to repeat the same movements again.  She gave a pained,
sheepishly shaky smile.  Her awkward gait as she crossed the floor reminded
Ray of a Mother Goose rhyme.

    "I really don't think there's any need to discuss this . . . incident
. . . with Constable Fraser, Vecchio," she said softly with a wincing
smile.  Her dark eyes implored him, and Ray was confused since it was
surely Benny lying on the other side of the desk.

     Deciding it must be a Mountie thing or an appeal to honor like Fraser
had yammered on about when Ray pressed him about Frannie, Vecchio warily
said, "Okay."
    Thatcher looked immensely relieved.

    It didn't make sense, though, he thought.  Why couldn't he talk about
it?  Unless . . . . A nasty suspicion crept into his thoughts.

    She must have seen the intent on his face for she tried to block
Ray from entering the office fully.  He feinted right and quickly went
around her to the left.  The rigid Mountie lying on the floor behind
Fraser's desk looked for all the world like some kid had tipped him during
sentry duty.  The only human Ray knew who could out-Fraser Fraser lay
there on his back at stiff attention staring at the ceiling.

     Turning away from Turnbull, Ray stabbed a finger at Thatcher as
he passed her.  "You owe me."  He strode out the door.  "Next time close
and lock the door.  Even better, use your own office."

    Ray signed the final report and shoved it in the file folder.  He
caught a flash of red from the corner of his eye, and looked up at his
best friend.  "Hey, man, where were you?"

    Fraser came as close to shrugging as he ever did.  "The inspector
sent me for coffee."
    "And that took over an hour?" Ray asked incredulously.

    "Well, you see, Ray," Fraser began, adjusting the Stetson where it
was tucked under his arm, "Inspector Thatcher is very particular about
the coffee we use in the consulate.  There is only one purveyor of her
preferred blend in the Chicago area, and it's located across town." 
    "You'd think she'd let you take a consulate car," Ray observed. 
    "Oh, no, Ray," Fraser replied.  "Since I am not on official consulate
business, am only running an errand, as it were, I must use public transportation."
     "I see," Ray said.  And he did.

     "The odd thing is," Fraser said, sounding baffled, "that the consulate
has gone through an inordinate amount of coffee the past few weeks."

     "Ah," Ray said, struggling to keep his expression blandly neutral.

     Fraser frowned at him.  "'Ah' what?"

     "Just 'ah,'" Ray answered, rising to his feet.  "Ready to go?" 

END
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