Chances Are...     

My disclaimer: The characterizations of Benton Fraser, Ray Vecchio,
Diefenbaker, and the rest of the dueSouth gang belong entirely to the
minds that created them. Enjoy!  CHANCES ARE... 

By Patti Cherry
 A Due South Fiction 

Constable Benton Fraser had spent the day in the office supply closet at
the Canadian Consulate. Before Inspector Thatcher left for Ottawa, she had
given him specific orders concerning the inventory. He knew from prior
experience what to expect if he failed to perform his duty. The Inspector
was due to return to Chicago on Monday afternoon and Fraser was determined
to complete the assignment. Even if it killed him. He had attacked the
supply cubicle with a vengeance. Every box had been opened, the contents
counted and duly noted on the supply sheet. He had left nothing to chance.
Just one errant paper clip could cause tremendous problems, especially if
the Inspector happened to be in a foul mood at the time of discovery.  

By two o'clock that afternoon, Benton had counted so many rubber bands,
paper clips, staples, pencils, and pens that he was beginning to have
difficulty enumerating properly. He decided to abandon the job for the
day, not wanting to take the chance of committing a serious error. He
rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger in an
effort to ease the tension. He returned to his office, dropping the
inventory clipboard onto the desk. The pile of folders still remaining
gave him pause. Today was Tuesday. That left five days in which to
accomplish his assignment. Fraser heaved a sigh of resignation. It would
appear that he would be working over the weekend.  

A few minutes later, the Mountie and his wolf stepped outside. The sun was
shining in a cloudless blue sky. The temperature had risen drastically due
to the departure of the cold front that had brought the storm three days
ago. The warmer weather caused the start of the melt-down. Streams of
water raced along the curbs before draining into the sewer system.
Pedestrians were routinely spattered by passing vehicles. The shouts of
these hapless souls mingled with the sounds of the splashing tires on the
street.  

As Fraser and Diefenbaker made their way uptown to the police precinct,
his thoughts were full of anticipation for this evening's plans. He and
Ray were taking Jo Spenser out to dinner. Benton was looking forward to
spending time with her. He was also somewhat curious to learn more about
the relationship between his best friend and this woman. Ray had informed
him last night that there had not been a romantic connection with Jo.
Fraser believed what Ray had told him, however, he was anxious to discover
if Jo felt the same. He fervently hoped this would be the case. Especially
after the dream he'd had. Ben felt himself grow warm as he recalled what
had nearly transpired between the two of them. Diefenbaker whined loudly,
drawing his attention to the wolf. "What?" He glanced down at Dief with
some amount of embarrassment. Sometimes, it seemed as though the animal
could read his mind and at this moment, he prayed that was not the case.
Fraser decided to ignore the wolf's outburst, instead, he urged him to
increase his speed. In a few minutes, they arrived at their destination.  

The squad room was bustling with activity this afternoon. Several
prostitutes were engaged in flagrant flirting with the officers who were
taking their information. Their gaudy attire brightened an otherwise drab
atmosphere. As the Mountie made his way to Ray's desk, he was greeted by a
chorus of whistles and catcalls.  

"Hey, there sugar. You can mount me anytime."  

"Oh, baby. I just love a man in uniform."  

"Studley Do Right!"  

Their laughter and remarks brought a blush to Ben's face. He should have
been used to the treatment he received whenever he visited, but the sexual
innuendo expressed by these ladies of the night made him extremely
uncomfortable. There was a time, however, when he would stop to talk. He
had never understood much of the conversations or suggestions he received
from the women and officers alike. One day, Ray had taken him aside and
explained in explicit detail the meaning of a particular expression a
woman had used during the course of their chat. Not comprehending the
message, Fraser had given her a positive answer. He had been mortified
when Ray informed him what the ramifications of her offer implied. Since
that episode, he aspired to keep conversations he may encounter with these
women, noncommittal.  

Ray was seated at his desk behind a mountain of folders. Several stacks
cluttered the floor around him. He appeared to be engrossed in his project
and Fraser hesitated to approach. He didn't want to disrupt his friend's
concentration. Ray suddenly looked up from the file he was working on and
waved him over.  

"Good afternoon, Ray."	

"Hey, Fraser. All your paper clips accounted for?"  

"Yes, I believe so." Ben moved some folders off the chair, placing them
carefully on the nearest pile, then took a seat. 

 "Man, I hate paperwork. Where does it all come from?" Ray shut the folder
he had been working on and dropped it on top of the desk. "That's it for
today. Come on, let's get out of here." His knees cracked as he stood,
bringing a grimace to his face. He stretched his arms over his head, in an
attempt to relieve the tension of his muscles and joints. "Oh God. Here
comes Elaine and look what she's got with her." Fraser looked over his
shoulder and observed Elaine Besbriss as she made her way through the
crowded area. An elderly woman followed close behind. Ben and Ray
exchanged incredulous glances.	

"Detective Vecchio, this is Madame Cathy. She would like to report a
possible impending homicide." Elaine kept her eyes on Fraser as she spoke,
her appreciation of the man quite evident. The Mountie always enlivened
her day. "And this is Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP."  

"Good afternoon, Ma'am."  

"This wouldn't have anything to do with crystal balls, would it?" Fraser
frowned at Ray's remark; although, judging by the woman's attire, a
crystal ball would seem appropriate. She wore a long multi-colored skirt,
topped with a white peasant style blouse and black satin vest. Her wrists
were adorned with numerous gold and silver bangle bracelets and each
finger sported a ring set with a different gemstone. A leather cord hung
around her neck. A soft suede bag attached to the thong lay nestled
against her ample bosom. In her ears dangled the largest hoop earrings
either man had ever seen. They were the size of a dinner plate. Her head
was wrapped with a purple silk scarf from which several wisps of gray hair
had escaped. She wore no make-up, making the incongruity of her outfit all
the more bizarre.  

"No Detective, I divined the crime through dream interpretation. I double
checked my sources before deciding to report it." Fraser indicated for
Madame Cathy to have a seat and then took up a position to the left of his
partner. She sat heavily, jingling loudly as she settled.  

"And what sources are we talking about?" Ray resumed his seat while Fraser
pulled a chair over for himself. Madame Cathy glanced back and forth
between the two men. "This isn't a joke, Detective. I've spent my entire
life perfecting my craft. I know what I know. And what I know is that a
client is contemplating killing her husband. In all these years, I've
never had something like this occur." Ben noted the sincerity etched on
the woman's face and in her demeanor. She spoke with a measured certainty.
 

Ray flipped open his notepad and clicked on a pen. "Okay. What's the
client's name?"  

"Understand, I'm only coming forward in an effort to prevent this man's
death. There's still time for intervention."  

"Did this woman tell you she was going to kill her husband?" Ray silently
cursed the powers that be. Why me? Why do I always get the loony toons?  

"Of course not. I discerned it in her dreams."	

"Look lady, I'm not the dream police. I can't go around locking people up
for things they do in their sleep. Just because a person dreams certain
things doesn't mean it happens. For instance, he's still living in
Chicago." Ray jerked his thumb in Fraser's direction. The Mountie chose to
ignore the last remark.  

"Well, that's not exactly correct, Ray. There are documented cases
concerning prophetic, or more specifically, precognitive dreams that have
been confirmed to have scientific merit. There are University laboratories
devoted entirely to the research of dream sequence and solution. Then, of
course, there is the case of Otto Loewi, the Nobel Prize winning
physiologist who purportedly dreamed the experiment which proved his
theory on the transmission of nerve impulses. I could go on.."	

"Please don't." Ray shook his head and felt the beginning of a headache.
Not for the first time, he found himself wondering where the hell Fraser
came up with all that stuff.  

"Did you know the University of Chicago has done extensive scientific
research into dream states?" Madame Cathy addressed her query to the
Mountie.  

"Why, yes, I had heard. Also, Harvard University.."  

"Excuse me. This isn't some damn dream symposium. Can we get back to
business, here? Now, what's the woman's name?"	

"Debra Lafferty. Her address is 1221 Hansen Street. Her husband is Donald
Lafferty. He'll be involved in some sort of accident. The cards indicate a
fall from a great height." Madame Cathy watched intently as Ray jotted
down the information.  

"I thought you said the homicide was dream related?" Ray gave the woman a
skeptical glare. As far as he was concerned, this whole situation was a
big waste of time. His time.  

"Oh, it is. But I did a card reading to double check, you see. Dream
interpretation is not exact. So many factors must be considered."  

"I see. You're not entirely sure about the dream, so you double checked
with a deck of cards." Ray threw his pen and pad down on the desk in
annoyance.  

"I'm absolutely sure about the dream, the cards confirmed it. As did the
tea leaves." Madame Cathy was beginning to lose patience. She was used to
skepticism in her line of work, but she was doing her best to save a man's
life. She directed her appeal to the Mountie. He, at least, seemed to
possess an open mind.  

"There are some things that cannot be denied. Mrs. Lafferty's fantasy of
killing her husband is real. The Tarot cards confirmed a serious tragedy
would befall a man very close to her. The cards pointed to the wife of the
victim as the instigator of the mishap. And tea leaves never lie. There is
a man out there who is in danger of loosing his life. We have to help
him." The woman was red-faced from her efforts to persuade the detective
of Donald Lafferty's impending doom.  

"Would you like a drink of water, Ma'am?" She gratefully nodded her head
in reply to the Constable's offer. "Ray?" Fraser indicated for Ray to join
him at the water cooler. "I think it would be wise to at least
investigate."  

"Come on Fraser. This is a bunch of bull. Dreams, tea leaves. I'm
surprised she didn't whip out some fortune cookies. You don't seriously
believe this stuff?"  

"I believe in Madame Cathy's sincerity, Ray. She honestly thinks something
is amiss in regard to this woman, Debra Lafferty. Whether she used Tarot
cards or dreams to divine this information, is beside the point. The point
is, Madame Cathy perceived a malfeasance in conjunction with this woman
and her husband and it's our duty to investigate her claim."  

"Can't you talk English?"  

"I am speaking English, Ray."  

"Sounds Greek to me. Okay. We'll talk to Mrs. Lafferty. If she is planning
to off her husband, maybe she'll have second thoughts after a visit from
her friendly, neighborhood Mountie."  

"Thank you kindly, Ray." Ben handed Madame Cathy a cup of water, then took
his seat once again. The woman took a sip of the water, then placed the
cup at the edge of the desk as she waited for their decision.  

"Here's what we'll do. Constable Fraser and I will have a talk with Mrs.
Lafferty. Unless she confesses to conspiracy to commit murder, there isn't
much we can do."  

"Thank you, Detective. Your intervention may be all that's needed."  

"Yeah. By the way, do anchovies have any meaning in dreams?" All this talk
of dreams and their meaning had brought to mind the one he'd had last
night.	

"Oh yes. They signify extreme luck, especially in connection with cards."
Ray stared in amazement. "Lucky in cards?" He could feel a poker game
coming on.  

"Did you dream of anchovies, Detective?" Madame Cathy moved closer to the
desk, obviously interested in the topic of conversation.  

"Yeah. Last night."  

"Tell me your dream. In detail. Any numbers or colors you can recall.
Names, food or drinks, the slightest detail has meaning."  

"Well, I was in this room and a bunch of people I know were sitting at a
table playing poker." As Ray related his dream, he laced his fingers
behind his head. "Let's see. Lt. Welsh, Ford, The Dragon Lady, Elaine, and
my sister, Frannie. Francesca was smoking a cigar." Madame Cathy was busy
making notes on a pad she had pulled from her purse, nodding her head
thoughtfully. Benton frowned at the "Dragon Lady" insinuation. "Instead of
the regular suits, the cards displayed different colored anchovies. There
was a huge pot of cash on the table. Must have been thousands of dollars.
They wouldn't let me play because I didn't have a chair. They told me that
was the rule. No chair, no cards. Anyway, I got mad and left."	

"How did you exit?"  

"There was a door. It was closed and I remember thinking that it was
probably locked, but it wasn't."  

"Is that it?" Madame Cathy looked up from her notepad expectantly.  

"That's all she wrote. So, what does it mean?" Ray dropped his hands into
his lap and leaned forward.  

"Very interesting, Detective. Basically, your dream signifies extreme luck
and financial gain through reversal of fortune. A card table specifically
means a chance to increase your income. Tobacco in the form of a cigar is
a good luck omen. The fact that you could recall the number of people at
the table and their names is also indicative of good fortune. Anchovies
themselves signify luck in anything you may undertake. The only negative
aspect is the closed door which usually stands for regret over a missed
opportunity. All in all, your dream has a very positive outlook."  

"What does an open door signify?" During Ray's recital, Fraser was
reminded of his own dream.  

"An open door revealing some pleasant sight is a realization of your
highest hopes and deepest desires. Tell me the rest." Madame Cathy now
directed her utmost attention to the Mountie, pen at the ready on the
notepad.  

"I was just curious. That's all."  

"Come on, Benny. Tell us your dream. Unless you're embarrassed." Ray knew
what buttons to push when it came to getting Fraser to do something he'd
rather not do. Accusing him of embarrassment normally guaranteed success. 


"There's no need for embarrassment, Constable." Madame Cathy urged him to
continue.  

"I'm not embarrassed."	

"Then tell us the dream." Ray smiled broadly at his friend. He couldn't
wait to hear what type of dream the Mountie would recount. He thought it
would probably feature Inuits and dead otters.	

"Alright, if you insist." Fraser retold his dream in explicit detail,
omitting only the part that featured Jo. Several times during his recital,
Ray had sniggered and shook his head. Madame Cathy had been mesmerized by
his account, furiously scribbling on her notepad. "Let me ask you a
personal question, Constable. Is there a special woman in your life?"  

"A woman? Not to my knowledge." Ben was suddenly wary by the inquiry.  

"The presence of a woman in your life is most significant. The symbolism
in your dream is extremely sexual in nature. The white donkey signifies
increased sexual vigor and favorable reaction of the opposite sex. A
clover field means you can expect good luck in a love affair. A dinner
table set with china indicates an increase in social and personal
activities. A dream of lace or clothing made of lace means popularity with
the opposite sex. The snowshoes predict a surprise reward for former kind
deeds, and because you were shirtless, the presumption would indicate the
involvement of a woman. So, you see, basically your dream indicates a
successful love affair and the fulfillment of passion and desire." By the
end of Madame Cathy's narration, Fraser could feel his face burning with
mortification. Thank God, he hadn't mentioned Jo.  

"What would it mean if, say, a woman had been in his dream?" Ben shot Ray
a look that was full of ire. Ray returned the look with a knowing grin.  

"If he knew the woman, it would mean that she was the object of desire and
the source of the sexual implications. It's also a good indication that
the passion will be reciprocated. Was there a woman?"  

"Not that I recall. Thank you kindly, Madame Cathy, but Detective Vecchio
and I really must commence with our investigation." Ben stood and held out
his hand to the woman, anxious to see her depart. She shook hands with
him, then with Ray, thanking them both profusely for their help. Fraser
breathed a sigh of relief as the woman exited the squad room. He turned to
find Ray laughing heartily. "What are you laughing at?"  

"No, there's no woman. I thought Mounties didn't lie?" Ray was having a
great time at Fraser's expense.  

"They don't. And I didn't."  

"Yeah, and the Pope isn't Catholic. Admit it, Jo was in the dream."  

"Don't you think we should go visit Mrs. Lafferty?"  

"No, I don't. I think I'm going to make a few calls and get a poker game
together. No regrets over missed opportunity here." Ray picked up the
phone and began to dial.  

"Ray, you can't play poker tonight. We have a date."  

"No, Benny, you have a date. I'm taking advantage of my good fortune. Just
tell Jo something came up and we'll do it another time. Besides, this is
the perfect opportunity for you. Don't blow it." As Ray made his calls,
Ben was deliberating his predicament. Jo was expecting the both of them,
not just him. Perhaps he had better phone her and explain the situation
while it was still early. This way, if she wasn't interested in having
dinner with him, she would still have time to make other arrangements.	

"Okay. Everything's set. What's wrong?" Ray noted the disappointed look on
Fraser's face. "Nothing, Ray. May I borrow your phone?" Ray handed the
phone over to him and watched as he dialed. "Hello! This is Benton Fraser.
Fine, and yourself?" Fraser's nervousness was evident only to his friend.
Another person observing would have said the Mountie appeared calm and
collected. His posture was straight and motionless, his face devoid of
expression. He did not exhibit any outward sign of the discomfiture he
felt. However, his eyes told a different story. Ray had seen the look
countless times. It was the 'little lost boy' expression that women found
so charming. "Well, actually, that's why I phoned. You see, it seems
tha.."	

"Give me the phone." Ray yanked the phone away from him and took over the
conversation. "Hey, Jo, it's Ray. How ya doing? Great! Look, something
came up and I can't make it tonight. No, nothing serious. You know how it
is. Anyway, Fraser's still available and looking forward to taking you out
to dinner. We can get together another time. Yeah? That sounds great. Let
me know. Okay. Talk to you." Ray handed the telephone back to Fraser, who
accepted with a slight inclination of his head.  

"Hello? Yes, that is, if you still would like to go. Unless, of course,
you would rather not. In that case, I understand completely." Ben was
silent for several seconds. "I'll pick you up at seven o'clock. Good-bye."
Ben placed the telephone in the cradle, then looked at Ray. "I was quite
capable of handling the situation myself, Ray."  

"I know. Come on, let's go pay Mrs. Lafferty a quick visit. I got a poker
game to get ready for." Ray grabbed his coat and threw it on as he walked
briskly across the room. He was already contemplating his winnings.  

"Ray, don't you think you should give this matter more thought?"  

"What's to think about? I got the Good Luck Gods smiling down on me,
Benny, and I'm smiling right back at 'em. You heard Madame Cathy.
Everything I touch today will turn to gold."  

"No, Ray, that's not what she said. If I recall, her exact words were.."  

"Look. I know what she said. Luck and good fortune are mine for the
taking, and I'm taking. I can feel it, Fraser. Lady Luck is sitting right
here on my shoulder."  

"That may be so, however, I firmly believe we make our own luck, Ray, and
I would strongly advise that you not rely too heavily upon the Lady.
Perhaps it would be prudent for you to cancel the game and join us at
dinner, instead."  

The two men had reached the car and now stood facing one another. Ben
worried that Ray had taken Madame Cathy's words much too seriously and
would be sorely disappointed. He didn't want to see his friend get hurt or
lose his shirt in a game of poker.  

"Didn't you hear anything the woman said?"  

"Of course, I did, Ray. I'm not hearing impaired."  

"Then you must not have been paying attention. Today is my lucky day. Did
I tell you that I actually took a shower this morning without an audience?
That was a sign, Benny. So was the dream, and for once in my life I'm
going with the flow. You should too. Maybe we'll both get lucky. Get in
the car." Ray opened the door, got in, and started the Riv. Diefenbaker
hopped in the back seat and made himself comfortable. Once inside, Fraser
turned in Ray's direction, but before he could utter one word, the
detective stopped him.	

"Not one more word. Okay? I'm playing and that's it. If I lose, then it's
my problem, not yours. Understand?"  

"Understood." Ray drove for several blocks before continuing. "I
appreciate your concern but I have to do this. It feels right, you know?"
Fraser nodded his head in agreement. "Maybe I'll win and maybe I won't.
But I won't know unless I try. I don't want to wake up tomorrow thinking
about a closed door." Ray glanced over at Ben. The Mountie understood
perfectly. He had lived with a closed door for a long time. "I understand,
Ray." The Riv continued on its way to Hansen Street. Both men were quiet,
immersed in their thoughts. One contemplated the future, while the other
dwelled on the past. As they pulled up to the house designated 1221, Ray
broke the silence.  

"I don't know about all this dream stuff, but I know this. You have an
opportunity here, Fraser, and I'd hate to see you waste it. Just because
you had a door slammed in your face once, or twice, doesn't mean it will
happen again. You just picked the wrong door, that's all. Besides,
everybody knows the prize is behind door number three." Ben raised his
eyebrows in question.  

"Door number three?"  

"The Price is Right? Bob Barker? Haven't you learned anything?"  

"Obviously not."  

"Never mind. What I'm saying is this. You're never going to find what
you're looking for if you don't take a chance. You got feelings for Jo,
and you can deny it all you want. The only person you're hurting is
yourself." From the back seat came a loud whine, followed by a low growl.
Both men ignored the wolf's comment. "Chances are, this time will be the
charm, but you'll never know if you don't at least give it a shot."  

"Thank you kindly, Ray. I understand what you're saying and I appreciate
the advice."  

"But you're not going to take it, are you?"  

"I didn't say that."  

"I know you. You think you got the answer for everything. You just pull
out your little Mountie handbook and look it up."  

"That's simply not true, Ray. I don't think that way a'tall. And there is
no such thing as a Mountie handbook. Although, upon graduation from the
academy we were presented with a reference manual."  

"I don't know why I waste my breath. You never listen to me, anyway." Dief
grumbled deeply. "You either."	

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I always take your advice quite seriously,
Ray."  

"Really?"  

"Yes. In fact, you're the only person I feel able to confide in regarding
certain matters, and your opinion is of the utmost importance. It's just
that I have difficulty discussing particular topics."  

"Like sex?"  

"Well...yes...that would be one topic."  

"Women?"  

"That would be another. It's getting late, Ray. Shouldn't we get on with
the Lafferty interview?"  

"We're not finished with this, Fraser."  

"Understood."  

The two men exited the car and made their way to the front door of the
Lafferty home. Ray rang the bell twice. After a few moments had passed, he
reached out and rang it again several times in succession. Fraser leaned
close to the front window and peered inside. "I don't think anyone is
home, Ray." Ray rang the bell one more time, leaving his finger pressed
against the button for a few seconds. "Guess not. Let's go."  

Back in the car, Ray picked up the conversation where he had left off,
much to Fraser's chagrin. "We're supposed to be friends. And friends talk
about stuff like women and sex. There's nothing wrong with that. Women
talk, too, you know. You should hear some of the...never mind. Talk to me,
Benny. I promise I won't laugh."  

"I didn't think you would, Ray." Ben debated over whether to discuss his
feelings for Jo with Ray. The problem was, he just wasn't sure what his
feelings were. "I don't know how I feel. About Jo. I like being in her
company. She has a wonderful sense of humor, she likes to cook, she's an
accomplished writer. Did I tell you she writes books for children? She's
very intelligent. I appreciate her mind."  

"What else do you appreciate? I'm talking feelings. How does she make you
feel?"	

"She makes me feel...good."  

"Good? That's it?"  

"No. This is very difficult, Ray. I'm not sure what I feel. When I'm with
her, I don't want to leave. I look into her eyes and I see...forever...
like I've known her for all of my life. When we touch, inadvertently of
course, it seems *right*, somehow." Ben was suddenly quiet, his forehead
creased by a thoughtful frown. Ray waited patiently, afraid to speak and
break the spell. "I want...I want her to belong to me, only me. Which is
ludicrous, since we barely know one another. I've no right to think that
way. And yet, I can't stand the thought of her with someone else. I mean,
she's a woman, not... a pair of fine leather boots!" Ray struggled
valiantly to suppress a grin at Fraser's analogy. Ben turned suddenly and
spoke in earnest. "Ray, I want her. I want her more than I've ever wanted
anything. Whenever I'm with her, I think about...well...you know. I want
to carry her off somewhere and know her intimately. I want to gaze into
her eyes and see her desire, experience her passion. I want to feel her
skin against my own, breath her breath, savor her essence.."  

"Enough already! I don't want to know about essence."  

"You said friends discuss this sort of thing."	

"They do, just not so...graphically." Ray was a bit overwhelmed by the
depth of Fraser's passion. He had thought he wanted to know how the
Mountie felt, but the visualization depicted by his words had disturbed
him. Before, Ray had never been able to picture Fraser in a romantic
situation. Now, he couldn't get the image of his best friend out of his
mind. It was kind of like catching a glimpse of your parents in a
compromising position.	

"I'm sorry, Fraser. Usually guys use a different kind of language when
they talk about stuff like this. I'm just not used to such grammatically
correct...er...words."	

"I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean to offend you."	

"Oh, I'm not offended. Just...surprised."  

"Surprised? By what?"  

"Oh, I guess I didn't realize how much you cared about her. I mean, you
hardly know each other."  

"Oh. So...what do you think?" Ray pulled up in front of Fraser's apartment
building, put the car in park, then turned and faced him. "I think you
want her bad."	

"Ah. Well, thank you kindly for your opinion, Ray." The man and wolf
climbed out of the Riv. As Fraser began to close the door, Ray called his
name.  

"Hey, Fraser."	

"Yes, Ray?"  

"I think your chances are good." Ben nodded to his friend and shut the car
door soundly. He stood on the sidewalk watching as Ray drove away. "Let's
go. I have a date." Dief looked at the man with expectation. "No, you will
not be coming with us." The wolf whined in protest. "Haven't you heard the
saying, three's a crowd? Besides, the restaurant doesn't allow animals.
Except, of course, those professionally trained to aid the handicapped.
Which you aren't." Diefenbaker sulked all the way up the stairs to their
apartment. Ben shook his head sternly at the animal. "You can sulk all you
want, you are not going."  

The wolf had no intention of infringing on his man's date, but he had to
play the game. Fraser expected it. When the man was ready to leave, Dief
once again began to grumble in discontent. As Fraser opened the door and
stepped into the hall, he lowered his voice. "Don't wait up."  

Ben stood in the hall outside of apartment 4J for several seconds. He
inhaled deeply, then knocked twice on the door, letting out his breath
slowly. Almost immediately, Joelle Spenser opened the door and greeted him
with a radiant smile. Benton felt his breath catch in his throat at the
sight of her.  

Her hair was loose. It cascaded down her back and caressed her slender
waist. She wore a mid-calf, black, silk, wrap skirt topped by a white silk
blouse. The bodice and sleeves were made of sheer, white lace that
displayed a rose pattern. Ben's eyes traveled slowly over her, finally
coming to rest on her mouth. A slight smile touched her lips, fueled by a
knowledge as old as time. As he raised his eyes to meet hers, a feeling of
apprehension overwhelmed him. Her eyes contained a certain amusement that
he was unable to fathom. His apparent bewilderment touched her heart and
she laughed softly.  

"Come in, Benton. I promise I won't bite." Her words caused a thrill to
rush through him, unlike anything he'd ever encountered. As he stepped
through the open doorway, anticipation replaced the feeling of dread he'd
experienced just seconds before.  

"I'll get my coat." As he waited for her to return, Benton casually looked
around the room, noting with approval the changes she had executed. His
focus was drawn to the coffee table. In the center of the table she had
positioned a floral arrangement. It was the container that held the silk
flowers that drew his attention. It appeared to be a ceramic animal of
some sort. As recognition of the figure registered, he felt a sudden
alarm. The centerpiece was in the shape of a donkey. A white, donkey. As
comprehension abruptly exploded in his mind, Benton murmured. "Oh, dear." 


The saga continues.........The Best Laid Plans Comments, suggestions are
encouraged. Send e-mail to Jubilee623@aol.com