Please Don't Squeeze the Shaman     "Please Don't Squeeze the Shaman" 

 M/M, Drama, Rated R 

 This is based on a real-life incident that my retired Mountie friend John
Religa told me late one night, when we were shooting the breeze about his
days as an RCMP constable in Newfoundland. I started thinking...what if it
had been Fraser and Ray? What if...? 

 Here is the result. I'd like to thank John for his invaluable help on
RCMP procedure and Canadian geography, climate, and customs, and Joseph
Bearwalker and StarrHawke for their information on the subject of
shamanism. 

  A raging blizzard with zero visibility. Impassable roads. Two humans
trapped in an isolated cabin overnight with no way to make a fire to stay
warm. Ray thinks they'll be dead by morning, but Fraser remembers a
survival skill he learned long ago. By employing the techniques shamans
use to overcome obstacles in the physical world, Ben can generate enough
heat to warm them both--if only Ray will give his consent. 

 For while there are times when taking off one's clothes is a prelude to
pleasure, in this case it would be, literally, a life-saving measure.
Would Ray's fear of the one prevent his doing the other? Would Benny's
knowledge of Inuit shaman magick be enough to save them both from certain
death? Or would it happen that even in a squeeze-or-freeze situation,
Ray's culturally ingrained homophobia would overrule his survival instinct
to tell him... 

  "Please Don't Squeeze the Shaman" 

 by Rupert Rouge 

  

 "You really should stay overnight, you know." 

 Corporal Pascal Cartier of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police detachment
in Morden, Manitoba, pointed to the sky outside the window of the small
detachment building. Although it was two o'clock in the afternoon, the sky
was darkening in the east, threatening snow. 

 RCMP Constable Benton Fraser acknowledged this statement with a polite
nod. "I realize that there's a blizzard warning for later tonight,
Corporal, but we really do need to push on to Emerson as soon as
possible." 

 "Like now," Detective Ray Vecchio added. "We'll stop overnight in Emerson
so we can talk to the Customs officers on your side of the border about
the two suspects we just questioned. And then we need to get back to
Chicago El Fasto to arrange for their extradition to the States." 

 "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you." Corporal Cartier shrugged. "Do
me a favor--call when you get to Emerson, so we'll know you got there
safely." 

 "We'd be delighted to, Corporal," Fraser said, polite as always. "Thank
you kindly." 

 After handshakes all around, Fraser and Vecchio left the building and got
into the Riv. Ray sighed with satisfaction as he swung the car on to the
highway that would take them out of Morden to Emerson. "A job well done,
Benny." 

 "Yes, indeed, Ray. Of course, it was rather less than intelligent of
Pierce and Willett to try to hold up that grocery store in Morden after
they ran the border at Emerson and crossed into Canada illegally." 

 "Yeah, they wouldn't win the Nobel prize for stealth, that's for sure,"
Ray agreed. "Still, we got them to talk, they're safely locked up in jail
at Morden for the time being, and as soon as we get home we can go over
all the evidence we have and give it to the District Attorney. Just think,
Benny, we'll be home tomorrow. I hate being out of town this close to
Thanksgiving, anyway." 

 "I wonder how Diefenbaker's doing. He's staying with Willie, so I know
he's all right, but he'll be anxious to hear about how things are in
Canada. I didn't get a chance to really talk to him before we left. Look
how dark it's getting, Ray. The other cars have their headlights on." 

 "Yeah, it sure looks like...hey, Benny, is that a snowflake?" 

"Now that you mention it...it looks like more than one snowflake, Ray." 

 "Do you think the blizzard's about to hit a few hours early?" 

 "Considering that the sky is continually getting darker as we drive east,
I'm afraid that might be the case." 

 As they continued to drive toward Emerson, the drifting snow and
gathering darkness forced Ray to slow down. 

 "Look, Benny, the wind's picked up so much it's driving the snow right
against the windshield." 

 "It's getting heavier, I agree. It may be desirable to stop somewhere,
Ray--" 

 "Stop, hell, Benny! We gotta get to Emerson while we still can." 

 But even with the headlights on low beam, driving was becoming
increasingly difficult and Ray was forced to proceed at a crawl. Fraser
peered through the passenger side window at their surroundings, trying to
get a sense of where they were. 

 After a few minutes, Ray swore. "Damn! Look at the water gauge!" 

 "Ray...does that mean the car's overheating?" 

 "Damn right. I'm going to stop and see what's wrong. Benny, look in the
glove compartment 

 and hand me that flashlight, will ya?" 

 Ray stopped the car, pulled his woollen cap down over his ears, and took
the flashlight Fraser handed him. As he opened the door of the car to get
out, the wind nearly tore the door handle out of his hand. In the few
seconds before he closed the door after him, the wind blew a thin film of
snow over the dashboard and the driver's seat. 

 Noticing that Ray was having difficulty popping the hood of the car,
Fraser got out, fighting the same wind-driven snow, and made his way to
Ray's side. Together, they tugged the hood open and looked underneath in
the beam of the flashlight Ray held. 

 "Broken fan belt," Ray said. He stared morosely at Fraser. "How are we
going to get around this?" 

 "Ray, I don't want to alarm you, but even if we could rig up some kind of
temporary fan belt, we wouldn't be able to go anywhere. The snow is coming
down too thick and too fast." 

 "Okay, Benny. Then there's only one thing to do." 

 Together, the two men--one grunting and swearing in English, the other in
Inuktitut--pushed the car onto the shoulder of the road as the snow stung
their faces and the wind whipped around them. "What now?" Ray asked. 

 "I did notice some type of structure off to the side of the road, Ray, in
the car headlights. We could try to make for it to take shelter for the
night." 

 "Okay, Fraser, we've got no other choice. Here's the flashlight--lead the
way." 

 "Very well, Ray. Follow me." 

 An hour later, fighting the wind every step of the way as they walked,
bent almost double under the onslaught of the stinging snow, they arrived
at a wooden cabin in the middle of a field. 

 "Doesn't look occupied," Ray said as Fraser shone the flashlight onto the
door and windows. 

 "At this time of year, it's very unlikely that it would be, Ray." 

 "The important thing is, can we get in?" Ray sounded almost cheerful, as
if he were visualizing a fireplace, furniture, a stove, emergency
supplies, possibly even a shower with hot water. 

 Fraser felt above the door lintel for a key. "No key. All right, we'll
have to kick the door in if it's locked." 

 The door yielded to the force of two pairs of booted feet kicking against
it. They stumbled inside, into cold, musty-smelling darkness. 

 "Here's a stove." Fraser shone the flashlight around the woodstove. 

 "But is there anything to burn?" 

 The flashlight beam traveled around the room, looking high and low. There
were twin beds, a table, two chairs, some blankets. A bookshelf holding
books and magazines swollen with damp and smelling of mildew. A kerosene
lantern. The cupboards over the kitchen sink held not a single can of
food, although assorted saucepans and frying pans stood on the stovetop.
All the electricity was off. Fraser turned on the tap, to find that the
water also had been cut off. A search of the cupboards under the sink
yielded no kerosene for the lantern; a search of the room revealed no
wood, no coal, no matches: in short, there was nothing with which to make
a fire or generate any external heat. 

 "It's cold in here," Ray said. 

 "Yes." Fraser had taken the flashlight and was examining the cabin walls,
to see if it might be possible to prise any wood away...but even so,
neither of them had matches. 

 "This is the only time in my life I've ever wished I was a smoker," Ray
said. "At least we'd have a lighter, in that case. Or a matchbook." 

 Fraser sighed. "I have a magnifying glass, but that won't do us any good
in the dark. You can't focus the sun's rays onto a piece of paper when
there isn't any sun." 

 "So." In the darkness of the cabin, Ray's voice was quiet. "This means
we'll be dead by morning, right? We're gonna freeze to death in this
stinkin' lousy cabin. Aren't we, Fraser?" 

 "By no means, Ray. I can think of several things we can do." 

 "All right, name one, wise guy." 

 Fraser exhaled the breath he'd been holding for the last thirty seconds.
"Well, the first way is one that you're not going to like at all." 

 "What way is that?" 

 "Remember what I suggested to you when we were locked in the freezer at
the horsemeat-packing plant? That we take off our clothes and warm each
other with our body heat?" 

 "That's out, Fraser. Absolutely out." 

 "Well, think about it, Ray. Did you ever do the experiment with two
glasses of water?" 

 "I don't know what you're talking about." 

 "You take a glass and put an inch of water in it. Then you take another
glass and put two inches of water in it. Then you put them in the freezer
and a couple of hours later, check to see which has frozen first." 

 "I guess you're trying to say that the inch freezes faster than the two
inches." 

 "Exactly. Which is why we ought to--" 

 "For the last time, Fraser, it's out of the question!" 

 "Well, there is another way, Ray. We could use the power of our minds to
make ourselves warm." 

 "What powers?" 

 "The kind of powers that Inuit shamans have, Ray." 

 

 "Shaman? That's like some kinda witch doctor, isn't it?" 

 "That's not a very nice name for it, Ray. A shaman is a spiritual healer,
highly respected in his or her community." 

 "You're a shaman?" 

 "Not exactly," Fraser admitted. "The time that I nearly died, when Dief
pulled me out of Prince Rupert Sound, I had an NDE--a near-death
experience. After I recovered, I thought I was supposed to do something to
serve humanity in return for being saved from drowning, so I went to study
with a shaman in a Tsimshian village. He did start teaching me some
things, but after a couple of months he told me that his power animal had
appeared to him and said that I wasn't to continue." 

 "Why not? Weren't you good enough?" 

 Even in the darkness, Fraser could sense that Ray was starting to shiver.
"It wasn't a question of whether I was worthy or unworthy, Ray. My
teacher, the shaman, told me that my path lay in the daylight world, not
the Otherworld. If I'm to make a difference to my fellow creatures, it
will be on the earthly plane rather than the astral plane." 

 The temperature seemed to have dropped even further while they were
talking, so much that when Ray next spoke, his teeth chattered. "W-what
about m-making a difference to m-me, Benny?" 

 "All right, let's start now. Let's sit down on the bed." 

 Ray shone a trembling flashlight on to the twin beds, then pounced.
"B-blankets! One for you, one for me. And look, two on the other bed, too!
W-we'll take them all." 

 After both men had wrapped themselves in the blankets, they sat side by
side. 

 "First, we'll have to put ourselves into a medium-deep trance," Fraser
said. "Even then we'll recognize that we're in a trance state, and we'll
be able to suggest to ourselves that we are not feeling cold, or hunger,
or pain. After that, we should go into deep trance. We'll still be able to
have our eyes open without affecting the trance, but we'll be able to
control our body temperature, our heartbeat, even our blood pressure." 

 "Are you s-sure?" Even shivering, Ray seemed wary. "It s-sounds like
voodoo to me." 

 "Ray, Ray, Ray," Fraser said, anxious to put his partner's mind at rest.
"Voudoun is a completely separate religion, although it does, of course,
have elements in common with shamanism--" 

 "N-never mind! Get on with it, Fraser!" 

 Obediently, Fraser began issuing instructions in a low monotone. Under
the influence of his own voice, he slipped easily into trance by way of
the deep breathing exercises the Tsimshian shaman had taught him. Vaguely
aware of passing through the mist-gates into an altered state of
consciousness, he felt himself growing warmer and warmer, more and more
comfortable. He slowed his heartbeat and respiration, then, having relaxed
completely into the shamanic state of consciousness, concentrated on
helping his friend. He was determined to control the situation in which he
and Ray found themselves and not give way to panic. "How are you doing,
Ray?" 

 "I'm d-doing lousy! I c-can't get the hang of this s-stupid voodoo crap,
Fraser!" Ray shivered violently. 

 "Oh, Ray. If only you didn't have this prejudice against skin-to-skin
contact, it wouldn't matter that you can't get the hang of this, this '
voodoo,' as you persist in calling it." 

 "Fraser, I'm t-telling you this v-voodoo thing isn't working." 

 "It did on me. Feel! No, I'm serious, feel my hand!" 

 "Christ, Fraser, your hand is hot!" 

 "Of course. The rest of me is too." 

 "So, that means if I w-wanna stay alive, I have to g-go along with y-your
skin-to-skin deal. Oh, all right. I'm s-so cold I'll try anything." 

 "Look, Ray, if it'll make you feel better, we'll forget all about this
after it's over and we're back in Chicago. No one ever has to know about
it except you and me." 

 "Y-you'd better b-believe we're going to forget it. I c-certainly intend
to!" 

 Fraser stood up. "I have an idea. Let's make the table into a kind of
sweat lodge. We'll drape the sheets and a couple of the blankets over it
and crawl inside. I'll drag one of these mattresses under the table first,
though." 

 In a few minutes, the table had been draped with sheets, anchored by the
two chairs up-ended on top; underneath, Fraser and Ray lay on the mattress
facing each other, with all the blankets over them, and their clothes
piled on top of the blankets. 

 Fraser moved closer to Ray, wrapping himself around the man's long, lean
form. Compared to himself, Ray seemed very cold: he still shivered
violently from time to time, but the time between shivers was lengthening.


 "You are very hot, Benny," Ray said into the hollow of Fraser's neck.
"It's nice. I think I'm starting to warm up." 

 "Hold on to me, Ray, squeeze me as hard as you want. Don't let go. Take
all the heat you need." 

 "You sure no one's gonna get after me for squeezing the shaman?" 

 "There's no one else here, Ray, so how could anyone possibly object?"
Fraser answered patiently, but the thought crossed his mind that Ray might
be on the verge of hysteria. 

 "Never mind, Fraser. I keep forgetting that you didn't grow up watching
American TV commercials." 

 There was silence while Fraser concentrated on sending his own heat into
Ray's body. How good Ray felt in his arms: the man was hard-bodied, lean,
like a wolf that lived in the wild and fed only occasionally. Carefully,
he fitted himself against Ray, groin to groin, thigh to thigh, shin to
shin, so that they mirrored each other. He could feel Ray's body
relaxing--the shivers had almost stopped. 

 "There must be somethin' to this shaman business. It seems to work with
you, at least." 

 "Heightened powers are often a byproduct of an NDE, Ray." 

 "Tell me about it, Benny. Did you go through the tunnel to The Light?" 

 "Yes." Fraser spoke slowly. "I don't want to talk too much about it, but
after I came back, my whole attitude toward life changed." 

 "Changed how?" 

 "The things that used to matter to me didn't matter any more. After all,
I had hovered on the brink, Ray, between this world and the next. I almost
didn't come back, but at the last minute I changed my mind. I felt that I
still had work to do in this world. But I saw that climbing to the top of
the ladder in the RCMP didn't matter; making a lot of money didn't matter;
owning a lot of things meant nothing. Only one thing matters." 

 "What, Benny?" Ray shifted in Fraser's arms. "What matters?" 

 Fraser tightened his hold around his friend. "Love, Ray. One has to have
love for one's fellow beings. One has to live with the knowledge that we
are all connected, each of us is part of the other, in a great web of
being." 

 "That's...that's beautiful, Benny." Ray sounded respectful. 

 For a short time there was silence, and then Ray spoke again. "Benny."
This time, however, his tone was quite different, and somehow the darkness
made the change seem more dramatic. 

 "Yes, Ray?" Fraser spoke softly. Perhaps he could encourage Ray to fall
asleep. Sleep would lower Ray's heartbeat and respiration, preserving his
body heat so that he would survive, like a bear in hibernation. 

 "You've got a hard-on." 

 Forget about the possibility of Ray's going to sleep: Fraser could sense
that a scene to end all scenes was about to begin. "I know, Ray." 

 "Why have you got a hard-on, Benny?" 

 "Because my body recognizes something my mind doesn't want to admit." 

 "Which is?" 

 "Which is that I'm in love with you." 

 "In love with me!" Ray's voice popped with excitement, making Fraser
think of exploding fireworks. "Fraser, are you serious? You can't be! Are
you really? You love me?" 

 "Yes, Ray, I am in love with you. Yes, I am perfectly serious. Why can't
I be in love with you? Do you not want me to love you, is that it? Do you
hate me for saying this?" 

 There was another short silence, but this time it seemed charged, as if
Ray were gathering strength to blast him with a stream of Italian
invective. Fraser wondered if Ray would be too busy yelling at him to
notice if he let his hands drift lower down his back, say from the base of
his spine to those enticing globes usually hidden from view by the loose
Armani trousers Ray favored. Then he became aware of a highly interesting
fact. "Ray...." 

 "Yes, Benny?" Ray's voice was breathless, neither angry nor pugnacious. 

 "I don't want to upset you in any way, but I feel it incumbent on me to
point out that, er, you too have an erection." 

 "Yeah, Benny, I know. So what are we going to do about it?" 

 Fraser gasped. Ray wasn't about to kill him? Was there...could there
be...did the possibility exist that...? "The question is, do we want to do
something about it?" 

 "Yes, we do. At least, I do. You?" 

 "Yes. Oh, yes, Ray." 

 "Okay. So do something, Benny." 

 Fraser could not see Ray's face in the darkness but he could hear the
soft exhalation of his laughter, feel the wind of it against his face. He
felt his spirit soaring like a bird in joyful flight: swiftly he passed
back through the mist-gates, into his ordinary state of consciousness,
like a swimmer shooting up from underwater to the surface. He wanted to be
fully aware of making love to the man of his dreams. 

 "Ray, are you feeling warmer now?" He rolled over on top of his lover and
began to feel him all over, the better to ascertain the ambient
temperature of the surface of Ray's skin. 

 "Not just warm, Benny. Hot. Hot temperature-wise and hot sex-wise." 

 Fraser felt Ray's arms go around him, and sighed with delight. He began
dropping small kisses all over Ray's brow, then going lower, to the
marvelous nose, the wide, generous mouth. 

 "Ah, Benny, Benny...I never knew." Ray wriggled beneath him, evidently
making himself morecomfortable under Fraser's weight. "I had no idea you
were in love with me." 

 "I've felt this way for a long time, Ray, but I was afraid to say
anything. You don't seem to care much for the idea of men together." 

 Ray sighed into Ben's ear. "That's because I'm afraid of myself, afraid
of my own feelings. That's why I resisted your proposal in the frozen meat
locker. I knew if we were skin to skin I wouldn't be able to control
myself and you'd know how I really feel about you. I've loved you for a
long time, Benny, but I thought you were beyond my reach." 

 "I'm not. Not at all, Ray. Now, could you be very kind and stop talking
so I can demonstrate the intensity of my feelings for you?" 

 "Ooh! Did I give you permission to put your hand down there, Mr. Mountie
man?" 

 "No, Ray, but I'm going to do it anyway. And I am going to stop you
talking." 

 How wonderful it was, Fraser thought, to feel so alive, in every cell of
his body. How delicious to explore Ray's tongue, how wonderful to lick the
long column of Ray's throat, trail kisses into the wiry chest hair, gently
tug at each nipple with his tongue and then suck it. As he returned
momentarily to Ray's mouth, he could feel the metal of the cross Ray wore
around his neck digging into his own skin. Feeling greedy, wanting,
needing to grab Ray's warm, willing flesh, he rolled on top of his love,
kissing, stroking, caressing. Oh, the delightful curve of those globular
buttocks, like...like...twin peaches. Fraser felt so charged with sexual
tension that his body screamed for satisfaction: like an arrow poised for
flight, he was loaded and ready for release. 

 Meanwhile, his lover's hands were far from idle. Evidently Ray was
determined to squeeze the shaman as much as possible; he kneaded the skin
of Fraser's back with his fingertips, wrapped his arms around him and
squeezed his chest, wrapped his legs around Fraser's ass and squeezed some
more. Fraser gasped as Ray reached down to stroke his cock, and then
groaned as excitement began to build inside him to a crescendo. Kissing
and writhing, hardness rubbing against hardness, Fraser finally exploded
in bliss, crying out his lover's name even as the music of Ray's moans
banished the silence inside the cabin, while outside the silent snow
continued to fall. 

 He collapsed on top of Ray, feeling the wetness of their consummation
cooling stickily on his stomach and groin. He wrapped his arms and legs
around Ray again, to keep the heat going for both of them. 

 "Benny," Ray said, his mouth close to Fraser's right ear. "That was
wonderful. I love you. I love you forever." 

 "Ray, Ray, my love..." Ben trailed kisses over Ray's face again, from
forehead to nose to cheek. "Hearing you say that means so much to
me...this is the best night of my life." 

 "Yeah, well," Ray said, pulling away slightly and enunciating clearly, "I
hope it's not the last night of your life." 

 "It's the first night of the rest of our lives together. Go to sleep,
love. I'm hot enough for both of us. Things will look better in the
morning." 

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

 The daylight woke him, as always: Fraser scarcely needed an alarm clock.
Opening his eyes, he gradually came back to consciousness, taking in the
unfamiliar sight of the rough planks of the underside of the table under
which they had spent the night, the unfamiliar smell of musty blankets
blending with the scent of warm, musky flesh, the soon-to-be-familiar (he
hoped) feeling of waking up with the man he loved in his arms. 

 As well, his abnormally acute hearing detected a welcome sound carrying
through the snowbound silence of the world outside: a snowplow making its
painful, noisy way down the road some half-mile distant. 

 Gently disentangling himself from Ray's grasp, Ben wrapped a blanket
around his shoulders, then went over to the window and looked out. Light
snow was still blowing outside, but through the dim grayish light he could
see the welcome sight of a snowplow making its way toward the cabin. He
did a few rapid mental calculations and then crawled back under the table
to wake up Ray. 

 "Um, unh, what?" Ray opened one eye and gazed blearily upward. "Whatsa
matter, Benny?" 

 "Get dressed, Ray, quickly. Help is on the way." 

 Ray woke instantly. He crawled out from under the table, grabbed his
clothes, and began to dress. 

 "Who is it, Benny?" 

 Ben, half-buttoned into his uniform shirt, looked out. "It's the
Mounties." 

 "They always get their man, right? Just like you got me." 

 "That's not really the RCMP motto, Ray, the real one is--" 

 "Yeah, Benny, I know. I'm just teasing you. Hey, Benny, about last
night--" 

 Ben turned to look at his friend. Ray wore a swarthy stubble of beard,
and he looked tired, but his green-hazel eyes were shining with an emotion
that Ben, feeling his heart constrict with happiness and wonder,
identified as love. 

 "Yes, Ray? Last night?" 

 Ray slipped his arms around him. "I don't want to forget it, Benny. I
want to remember it the rest of our lives. I want to relive it tonight,
and tomorrow night, and the night after that--" 

 Ben dropped a kiss on the hand that was touching his face, then looked at
Ray. "Does that mean you want to continue with this new direction in our
relationship?" 

 "That's exactly what I mean." 

 The sound of the snowplow was now very loud. Fraser, looking through the
window again, said, "I believe it's Corporal Cartier." 

 "We didn't call, so he must have suspected the worst and come out to look
for us at first light." 

 "Just think, Ray, in a couple of hours we might be having hot food." 

 "And a hot shower." 

 "And then we'll go home." 

 "Hey, we could be home by tonight, Benny! If we make it back by say,
seven, we'll have dinner somewhere nice. I'm buying." 

 "And afterwards I'll invite you to my place for some hot coffee." 

 Ray grinned. "What about inviting me to your place for a hot time?" 

 "That too, Ray." 

 There was a shout outside the door. "Hello! Anybody there?" 

 Fraser opened the door to admit Corporal Cartier and another officer. 

 "Good morning, Constable, good morning, Detective. Brrr!" Corporal
Cartier glanced around and shivered. "It's freezing in here. How did you
manage to survive the night?" 

 

  The End  
 *Copyright May 1997 by Rupert Rouge on all original story content. Not
meant to infringe on copyrights held by Alliance Communications, or any
other copyright holders for DUE SOUTH. Please do not reproduce for
anything other than personal reading use without written consent of the
author. Comments welcome at RupertR@hotmail.com. 

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