Last waltz	 Last waltz by MC Stephens

  

 Last waltz 

 I can feel the tension building inside, the knot in the pit of my
stomach. Tonight is my night. It has to be. It's now or never. 

 Since we heard of Fraser's promotion and transfer back to the Yukon, we
have hardly seen him at the police station. Lots to do at the Consulate I
suppose, preparing for the handover, clearing his desk. But yesterday he
finished his work. Tonight is his farewell party. And tonight he is going
to be mine! 

 Yes, I know I have tried before. I try every time I see him! I shouldn't,
but there is something about him, about the red serge, that I just need to
touch. He says little, is always polite, but I am sure that he really does
like me. He is just shy. Tonight he will have no choice. I spent hours
deciding what to wear, my bedroom was a mess with discarded clothes
everywhere. But not now. Now it is pristine. Everything put away, or at
least out of sight, neat and tidy just as he keeps his room. Clean sheets,
all prepared. 

 From the way I am having to fend off these other guys, I must look great.
The skirt is short enough to show off my legs, tight enough to emphasize
the curve of my backside. Maybe if I'd put a reserved for Fraser sticker
on it they would be less free with their hands. But I don't mind. Knowing
they want me just gives me more confidence. Naked midriff and crop top
don't leave much to the imagination, but why should they? I have it, so
why shouldn't I flaunt it? I can just imagine Fraser's eyes popping out of
their sockets when he sees me. It won't do any harm for him to feel
jealous, to know that other men find me attractive. 

 Oh my lord, there he is. Not in red serge for once, but a dark suit. I
hardly know how to breathe. Lieutenant Welsh is introducing him to his
wife. They are smiling, shaking hands. That Thatcher woman is there too.
Why is she always around? She's a cold-hearted so-and-so. The Ice Queen or
the Dragon Lady the Rays call her. I don't know how Fraser puts up with
her. Duty, I suppose. Since his promotion came through she has kept him
working so many evenings. Every weekend has been taken up with "hush hush"
training courses or something. He hasn't been allowed to talk about them.
She is a slave driver, yet he won't hear a word against her Well, she is
not spoiling his party tonight. 

 I adjust the straps of my top, pull down my skirt a fraction, and start
across the room to rescue him. Suddenly there are hands on my shoulders
and a quiet but intense voice in my ear. 

 *Don't do it, Frannie* 

 I spin round, enraged. Ray was bad enough, but I am not taking this from
a pretend brother, from Kowalski. I gather my breath to tell him just what
I think. But I can't. There is something in his face. My anger is gone,
replaced by desperation almost. 

 *But it's my last chance* 

 I try not to sound pleading 

 *You never had any chance, Fran* 

 His hands are back on my shoulders, not threatening or gloating, but
caring and with sympathy. 

 *If you're telling me he's gay, I don't believe it* 

 Kowalski shook his head 

 Worse than that 

 I allow myself to be turned around. 

 The Welshes and the Canadians are laughing, there is back slapping and
pecks on the cheek. The Lieutenant sends someone to speak to the
musicians. They change the tune, are now playing Lady in Red. It's for
Thatcher. Fraser takes her onto the dance floor. OK, yes, I admit, they do
dance well together, and yes, the dark red dress does suit her. It's too
simple for my taste, not revealing enough. It doesn't even cling, merely
hinting at the curves beneath. Occasionally as she moves, there is a
glimpse of leg through the concealed slash in the skirt. 

 She has a fine gold chain round her neck, carrying a medallion of sorts.
I expect it is a Mountie thing, to make sure he remembers she outranks
him. There are plain gold studs in her ears. They match the plain gold
ring on her finger.