Mardi Gras Trilogy Part 1	 A light trilogy to celebrate the Sydney
Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras. The events described herein are real.
 
 Rated PG
 
 At The Fair
 
 Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
 Parsley, sage rosemary and thyme
 Remember me to the one who lives there
    He once was a true love of mine.   Scarborough Fair - Simon and
Garfunkel   
 
 Lieutenant Welsh took a deep breath and stepped out of his office,
clutching a fax from Head Office. He steeled himself for the response he
knew he would get and took a final look at the fax. Getting detectives to
volunteer for anything on their days off was hard enough, but this. He
didn't like his chances. 
 
 Scanning the bullpen he was relieved to see Constable Fraser seated
beside Detective Vecchio's desk. He would probably volunteer his time, he
always did. But should he let the hapless Mountie volunteer for this?
They'd eat him alive.
 
 He shook *that* image from his mind and addressed the detectives en
masse. "OK, listen up people. I need a few volunteers." He held up his
hands when he heard the anticipated communal groan. "This Sunday is Gay
Pride Fair Day and the precinct is running a stall to promote the
relationship between the Force and the gay community."
 
 A mutter of voices filled the room, some in protest, some in disgust, but
one spoke out above them all. It came, not surprisingly, from the
direction of Detective Vecchio's desk.
 
 "I'll do it."
 
 Welsh turned to the owner of the voice, surprised that the voice was that
of Stanley Raymond Kowalski aka Ray Vecchio and not, as expected,
Constable Fraser.
 
 He dismissed his surprise, what did he care? It didn't matter who
volunteered so long as someone did.
 
 "OK, that's great, Detective." He cast his gaze around the room. "Anyone
else?"
 
 Constable Fraser's hand shot up. "Of course, Leftenant, I am not an
official member of this precinct, but if you would have me I would be
honoured to volunteer and I may well learn something about....." 
 
 Welsh cut him off before he thought too much about what he might learn;
Fraser would just have to cope with whatever he was dealt. "You're in,
Fraser." Scowling at the rest of his staff, he turned back to his office.
"The rest of you, get back to work." 
 
 
 Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny. A perfect day for the Gay Pride
Fair and Ray whistled to himself as he drove towards the Canadian
Consulate. It was going to be a good day.
 
 Ray was relieved to find that Fraser had followed his advice and not worn
his uniform. Dressed simply in worn denim and a white t-shirt, the Mountie
waited on the steps of the Consulate with Diefenbaker beside him. They
walked towards Ray's GTO as he pulled up.
 
 "Good morning, Ray." He smiled at his friend as he got into the car. "I
hope it's not inappropriate to bring Diefenbaker?"
 
 "No, Fraser." Ray grinned back at him. "No problem at all." 
 
 For a moment he was tempted to tell his friend that one of the
competitions held every year at the Gay Pride Fair was to find the dog
most suited to helping their owner score, but maybe he'd let Fraser find
that out himself.
 
 On arrival at the Fair, it only took a short while to get their stall
organised. The organisers of the fair had erected a small tent like affair
and Fraser and Ray arranged a trestle table with pamphlets and fliers and
hunted up a few chairs. As they were working on their arrangement one of
the organisers, a muscled blonde man, arrived clutching a pair of
t-shirts. He introduced himself as Tom Gleeson.
 
 "Here guys, I thought you might like a couple of these shirts to make you
feel like a part of the crowd."
 
 Fraser accepted the shirts from Tom, who looked him up and down as he
did. "Thank you kindly," he replied, flushing slightly under the scrutiny.
 
 Tom turned to Ray. "I hope you have a successful day, Detective. I think
it's important that we feel like we can come to the police when we need
to."
 
 "Yeah, well I'd like that to happen to."
 
 After exchanging a few more words, Tom left, leaving Fraser and Ray to
their day. 
 
 Fraser held up the t-shirts. "These are a little *small*, Ray, but I
think it would be rude not to wear them."
 
 Ray grinned as he inspected the shirts. The larger of the two bore the
now familiar rainbow striped flag of gay pride with the date across it and
the smaller bore a pink triangle overlapping a blue triangle, also with
the date. 
 
 "They're *supposed* to be this size, Fraser. Look around, everyone else
is wearing tight shirts."
 
 Ray reached for the smaller one, pulled his own t-shirt over his head and
put the new one on, smoothing the blue and pink triangles over his chest
as he did. After a momentary hesitation Fraser did the same, turning his
back to the open front of their tent.
 
 The short, tight shirt moulded to his muscles, making the rainbow flag
appear curved and bumpy. He pulled at the hem and looked nervously at his
companion. Ray's shirt barely covered his midriff and as he moved, it
showed glimpses of the taut stomach underneath. Well, Fraser sighed to
himself, if Ray is prepared to do this in the interest of a good cause,
then so am I.
 
 "You OK there, Fraser?" Ray asked, looking up from the fliers he was busy
rearranging.
 
 "Yes, Ray, I'm fine." He indicated the triangle design on his friend's
shirt. "I am familiar with the rainbow flag on my shirt, Ray. But I do not
know what those triangles are."
 
 Ray lifted an elegant finger to touch his lips, hiding his smile. "Bi
Pride," he answered softly.
 
 "Buy pride? Surely pride is something that cannot be bought...."
 
 Ray cut him off. "No, not buy. Bi as in bisexual."
 
 Fraser blushed and dropped his gaze to his boots. "Oh."
 
 
 By midmorning most stalls were set up. There were stalls selling food,
clothing, books and some, like theirs, dispensing pamphlets, condoms and
advice. The crowd started to arrive at about 11am and Fraser took his time
looking over the variety of people ranging from handsome bare-chested
muscle bound men to young women dressed in baggy shorts and heavy boots to
men wearing high heels that sank in the grass. All in all, a colourful and
happy day and he found himself surprisingly happy to be part of it.
 
 Throughout the morning many people, including some of their colleagues
from 'The Gay and Lesbian Police Officers' stall, stopped by to visit
them. Fraser, despite his early discomfort at wearing such a revealing
shirt, was enjoying himself immensely and was well pleased with the
relationship the Chicago PD seemed to be establishing with the community.
Diefenbaker had wandered off shortly after their arrival, but Fraser
wasn't concerned. There were many dogs at the Fair to keep him company.
 
 Ray seemed to be enjoying himself too, Fraser noticed. He seemed to know
many of the people there already and had spent much of the morning hugging
and kissing what seemed to be a large number of old friends. Fraser was
about to mention this fact to his friend when a transvestite in a pink
vinyl dress and a bright yellow wig teetered up to their tent.
 
 "Well if it isn't Stanley Kowalski!" she screamed delightedly.
 
 Ray turned in time to be pressed against a pair of pointy vinyl covered
breasts. "Hey, Pan," he grinned at the woman who towered over him in her
six inch purple platforms. "I haven't seen you in ages."
 
 "Well, honey," she pouted at him, "that could be because you don't come
round anymore."
 
 "Well, now I got this new job, I can't come round too much."
 
 "We miss you, Stanley." Pan looked up and indicated Fraser. "But, I'll
forgive you if you introduce me to your lovely friend here."
 
 "Oh, ah, yeah sure." Ray rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Ah...this
is...."
 
 Fraser stepped across the small space and extended his hand to the woman.
"Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police."
 
 Pan feigned a swoon and fanned herself with a pink-gloved hand. "I'm Pan
Am."
 
 Fraser frowned and glanced at Ray before looking back at Pan. "Pan Am?"
 
 Pan gave a demure look from under long eyelashes. "It's my stage name."
 
 On cue and before either of the men could react, a sturdy young woman
with a severe haircut dashed up to Pan. "Pan, for Christ's sakes, I've
been looking everywhere for you. You're on in five."
 
 "Oh, fuck," she cried in a voice deeper than before. Quickly she kissed
Ray and patted Fraser's cheek. "You two will have to wait till later." She
ran off after the young woman as fast as her platforms would carry her.
"Come see my show," she called as she went.
 
 "Pan Am?" Fraser repeated, turning to Ray with a raised eyebrow. 
 
 Ray laughed and turned to hand some pamphlets to a pair of leather clad
women wearing t-shirts proclaiming them to be 'dykes on bikes'.
 
 
 Sometime later a man wearing leather chaps and spurs approached the tent,
making a beeline for Fraser. Fraser smiled at the man and pointed to his
chaps.
 
 "I take it you like to ride?" Fraser asked.
 
 The man fingered his moustache and tugged at the red bandanna tied around
his neck. He smiled at Fraser, his eyes raking over the muscles not at all
concealed by the tight t-shirt. 
 
 "Oh, yeah, I *love* to ride," he drawled. 
 
 "Well so do I, that is, as a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police,
I am required to ride." He hesitated for a moment. "But in my leisure
time, at least my leisure time in Canada that is, I ride whenever I get
the chance."
 
 The man reached out and ran his hand brazenly down Fraser's chest. "Well
for you, handsome, I'd even consider being ridden." He turned and walked
away. Fraser watched open-mouthed as the man went, taking a moment to
realise that under the leather chaps all the man wore was a black leather
thong. Behind him, Ray was unable to contain his laughter any longer.
 
 "Oh man, the look on your face is priceless," he guffawed. "You gotta
know that was coming."
 
 Fraser coloured. "Not at all. I thought we were
discussing......*equestrian* events."
 
 Ray laughed again. "You kill me, Fraser."
 
 "I think I'll go find Diefenbaker," Fraser said, feeling miffed at his
friend's laughter.
 
 
 Ray watched as Fraser disappeared into the crowd in search of his wolf.
It's strange, Ray thought, that although Fraser looked like he belonged
here amongst this crowd in his old threadbare jeans and too tight t-shirt,
that he was so out of his depth. 
 
 Not like him. Ray handed a leaflet and a pack of condoms to a young man
who looked to be about the same age as he had been the first time he
attended an event like this. Things sure had changed in the last twenty
years, he mused. Back then, if you were out, you were *out* and a confused
young teenager, as he had been, stood no chance.
 
 But not now. Now things were different. There were still the stereotypes
of course, but these days your sexuality didn't need to be on display to
be valid. All around him were examples; a beautiful woman, who could have
been a model, held hands with another woman carrying a child on her back;
two men who could have been accountants chose handmade coffee cups from a
pottery stall; an older transvestite dressed tastefully in a Chanel-style
suit held hands with a man her age who had obviously been very handsome in
his youth; a woman his mother's age slipped her arms around the waist of
another woman and they laughed together at some private joke. All of these
people had come to celebrate their community and Ray was proud to be here
with them. He was proud to be a part of this community.
 
 He wondered if Fraser guessed. Had the Mountie realised there was more to
his desire to volunteer today than being a good cop? Did Fraser wonder how
he came to know so many of the people that had stopped by? And what did it
matter if he had? Suddenly weary, Ray reached over, snagged one of the
chairs and lowered himself into it, letting the sights and sounds of Gay
Pride Fair Day wash over him.
 
 So lost in his thoughts was he that he didn't hear a man approach him. He
jumped when he heard a soft, familiar voice to his left.
 
 "Hello, Ray."
 
 He flowed out of the chair and stepped towards the owner of the voice,
stopping just short of arms reach. He let his eyes wander up and down the
man in front of him, taking in the sturdy legs encased in denim and the
barrel-chest barely covered by a soft tan suede vest. He hadn't changed at
all.
 
 "Danny," he breathed and flowed against the man, sliding his arms under
black waist length hair as he hugged him.
 
 
 In the centre of the Fair, Fraser finally found Diefenbaker beside a
stall selling pretzels. He sat next to a small white fluffy dog of
indeterminable parentage. He bent to scold him, but a stern voice pulled
him up short.
 
 "So he's yours?"
 
 Fraser stood and found himself eye to eye with a beautiful black woman.
"Ah, yes," he said, intimidated by glare of the woman in front of him.
"I'm sorry if he has caused any trouble. I'd be glad to pay for any food
he's stolen."
 
 The woman's stern face was split by a large grin and she threw back her
head and laughed. "No, he's no trouble, I was just hoping he belonged to
that sweet young thing over there." She pointed to a slender woman dressed
in a sheer yellow shirt tucked into skin-tight black pants. "Never mind,
you're already entered in the contest."
 
 "Contest?"
 
 "Yeah, the dog contest." She frowned at Fraser's blank stare. "The
contest where they judge the best dog for helping their owner score."
 
 "Score?"
 
 "Hell, man," she sneered. "You know, meet some guy to do the horizontal
polka with."
 
 "Oh." Fraser blushed. "I .... I...."
 
 Before he could continue any further, Pan Am appeared at his side. "Oh,
so he's *your* dog? Well come on, judging is about to start."
 
 Before he could figure out how it happened, Fraser found himself on a
makeshift stage with Dief at his feet, in a line with 5 other contestants
and their dogs. Pan Am strolled along the line assessing each owner and
calling for ratings from the audience. By the time they reached Fraser and
Dief, the audience was going wild; shouting, clapping and calling out
obscenities that made Fraser blush. Pan Am declared them the winner and
proceeded to embarrass Fraser further
 
 Ten minutes later, still wondering what had happened, Fraser found
himself on his way back to the Chicago PD stall with a pink sash around
his chest, a bottle of pink champagne in his hand and an ostentatious pink
bow around Diefenbaker's neck. As he approached the stall he was startled
to find Ray in the embrace of a man of Native American origin. 
 
 So intimate was their posture that he stopped suddenly, causing a drag
queen in gold stilettos to bump into him.
 
 "Sorry ma'am," he muttered absently, steadying the woman without taking
his eyes off the scene in the Chicago PD tent.
 
 By the time the woman was on her way again, the man in Ray's arms was
moving away, one hand holding on to Ray's for as long as possible. Fraser
took a breath, straightened his sash and continued. 
 
 When Fraser reached his companion, Ray was absently shuffling leaflets on
the trestle table on the side of the tent, smiling contentedly to himself.
As he looked up the smile grew wider and Fraser noticed a glow in his
friend's eyes that wasn't there before.
 
 "I'm back, Ray," he said as he entered the tent. "I'm sorry I was gone so
long." He held up the bottle and indicated his sash. "You see, Pan Am
found me and took Dief and I....."
 
 Ray smiled and cut his friend off. "S'okay, Fraser." He laughed out loud
as he helped Fraser take the sash off. "So long as you were having a good
time."
 
 Fraser looked startled for a moment, realising that he had, in fact, had
a good time. "Why yes, Ray. I think I did."
 
 Ray smiled again and his eyes shone. "Fraser, I learn something new about
you everyday."
 
 Fraser smiled warmly at Ray, remembering the scene he had witnessed
minutes earlier. "And I you, Ray," he said as he took up a fresh batch of
pamphlets and began to hand them out. 
 
 
 Comments welcome at mullum@ tig.com.au