Inhibitions
Fraser been standing sentry for four hours at the Chicago Museum of Art. Over the last month he'd seen more of the museum than he had the consulate or the Chicago Police Precinct either one. At least the view of the museum was different than the one he usually saw on sentry duty. The museum had displays of blown up pictures of miners ascending Chilkoot Pass, maps, replicas of mining materials, and a display of the Northwest Mounted Police, now known as the Royal Canadian Mountie Police. Fraser had read them all the first night. An hour ago the janitor had nearly fainted when Fraser blinked. He'd thought it was a mannequin standing beside the fist sized chunk of raw gold first found nearly a century ago in the northern reaches of Canada.
Overhead fluorescent lighting buzzed as the Mountie stood beside the display in the center of the main gallery. 'Carmack's Gold; A History of the Yukon Gold Rush', gleamed in the flat light on a information placard. Standing absolutely still gave Fraser ample amounts of time to think about things going on in his life. He'd been at the Chicago Consulate for a little over two years and it seemed he hadn't made any headway with Inspector Thatcher. Having Ray (Kowalski) Vecchio as his unofficial partner wasn't helping things. He hadn't been there to see the mess Fraser and the Inspector had met in after Victoria Metcalf. It had been a bad start to a working relationship.
Things had taken an upswing when Fraser and Thatcher had shared an amazing kiss on a runaway train, but lately things had been strained between them. She seemed distant and unhappy, at least more distant and unhappy than usual. Fraser had been walking a fine line, trying not to cause her any undue stress. So far it hadn't helped things either.
In the distance, Fraser heard the church bell ring six o'clock. Inspector Thatcher would be arriving with his relief detail any moment. The Mountie looked forward to something to eat and being able to stretch his legs. He would be glad to see Turnbull and Dief.
Around the Corner …
Meg Thatcher flipped the collar of her RCMP issue, navy pea coat up to ward off the breeze off the lake. Turnbull whistled a nursery rhyme as he walked a few yards behind. All Meg could do was grit her teeth and keep on walking.
"Hot cup of coffee on a cool night, Inspector?" The coffee vendor, a man in his early sixties with expressive, dark eyes set in an oval face greeted her.
"Good evening, Mr. Carson, yes, three cups, thank you kindly." Meg smiled as she pulled a five dollar bill out of her pocket and laid it down on the counter top of his push cart. With a friendly wink the older man pushed her money away. He would have to throw out the soon anyway if he didn't give it to Meg.
"Mr. Carson, that's no way to make a living." Meg fussed at him with a friendly smile. He waved a gloved hand at her and shrugged.
"I'm too old to need much of a living, have a good night, Inspector." Mr. Carson wished her as he wiped his cart down. Meg handed Turnbull a cup and took the other two in hand. They smelled heavenly as the steam wafted up from the spout.
"Good night, Mr. Carson." Meg began walking down the sidewalk toward the museum, a man in dark slacks and a leather jacket strolling toward her. When they neared the same cement square the man turned to see something behind him, nearly colliding with the lady Mountie.
"Excuse you." Meg growled as she tried to keep the coffee from spilling down her jacket front.
"Oh, I'm sorry, guess I should watch where I'm going." The man apologized, reaching out to steady her. He smiled at Meg, giving her a subtle once over.
"Yes, do." Meg sniffed, annoyed. She didn't see the two tablets he slipped into the coffee.
"Again, sorry." The man shrugged before returning on his way.
"Hmm, Americans can be so thoughtless." Turnbull caught up to the Inspector.
"Makes you miss our nice, polite home, doesn't it?" Meg took a sip of her coffee.
Outside the Museum …
"The love birds will be taken care of in ten minutes." Carlo spoke low into the cell phone as he stood on the corner outside the museum. He'd been standing outside the museum for the last month, since the Gold Rush exhibit had arrived in town. It didn't take long to get the scoop on the three Mounties guarding the gold and other museum valuables.
"Good, give it ten minutes for the dumb one to get comfortable then we'll make our move." Andrew, the leader, responded.
"Will do." Carlo hit the end button and slid the cell in his leather jacket pocket. He pulled a gray toboggan on his head then took up his secondary position across the street from the museum.
Inside the Museum …
Meg let herself into the back entrance of the Museum, two coffees in hand. Turnbull had already finished his and walked half a block to find a trash can for the cup.
"Constable Fraser, here you go." Meg handed him the cup of coffee, a broad smile on her features. It was the first one he'd seen out of her in quite some time.
"Ah, Inspector Thatcher, thank you kindly." The Mountie took his first step in four hours toward her. The coffee reminded him how hungry he was.
"You're welcome." She almost giggled, the coffee had tasted too sweet but Meg didn't think anything of it.
"Have a good evening, Constable Turnbull." Fraser wished him. The junior officer nodded, then stepped back into the spot where he would stand perfectly still until ten o'clock that night.
The Museum is a large building, housing various galleries, offices and work rooms where they maintain and restore works of art from all over the globe. Getting lost wasn't unimaginable. Guards patrolled the building all through the day and night.
"This coffee has an unusual taste, did you get it at Mr. Carson's stand?" Fraser asked, trying to figure out what was out of place.
"I think it tastes awesome." Meg downed the last third of hers, sighing afterward. The sickly sweet taste clung to her lips as she licked her bottom lip. Her face felt hot and she slipped out of her pea coat.
"Inspector, are you alright, you don't seem to be yourself." Fraser stopped in the middle of the hallway.
"I feel fine, great actually, but it is hot in here." Meg began unbuttoning her white, silk blouse, pulling at the thin material. Fraser swallowed hard, his face becoming hot. The Mountie's usually keen thinking seemed to be moving slowly. He finished his coffee, the sweet taste no longer seeming out of place.
"You know what else is hot, Fraser?" Meg slipped out of her heels, pulling her blouse free of her skirt's waist band.
"It is hot in here." Fraser agreed, pulling on his stiff collar, using his Stetson as a fan.
"You are hot." Meg giggled like a school girl as she began unfastening the leather belt around Fraser's waist. Before he could say, "Oh dear," she'd pulled him down in a lip lock. Stunned, Fraser put his hands on her shoulders to push her away but didn't. He felt different, more alive, less fearful than ever. All the reasoning he'd been taught and relied on everyday was no where to be seen.
"One of these offices has to be unlocked." Meg said when she leaned back, her blouse hanging open down the front.
"If it isn't, I can still get us in." Fraser volunteered, grabbing his Stetson while Meg began checking doors down one side. He started checking the other side.
"Bingo! Here's one." Meg leaned against the metal door frame, chewing on her bottom lip as she stared intently at the Mountie. She wanted him like she'd never wanted anyone else. Her heart beat like a jackhammer when he pulled her against him and began nibbling on her ear.
"Good." Fraser murmured as he found the zipper on Meg's skirt and pulled the handle down. They stumbled into the last office on the left, turning over the potted plant near the door and slamming against the desk. Meg giggled as she began unfastening, unzipping and undressing the Mountie. There were too many layers to his uniform to suit her. Fraser slid her satin lined skirt off, the material hitting the floor.
"Ooh, Fraser, that tickles!" Meg laughed as they found their way to the leather couch beyond the desk. She peeled his under shirt off to see his tone chest, her hands exploring the expanse of his back as she felt his tongue dart into her mouth.
Both of them felt unleashed, free in a way they'd never experienced before. There was no formality, no protocol, and certainly no regulations between them now. Like magnets, Meg and Ben were inexplicably drawn to each other, craving each other. Meg breathed in Ben's scent as he tasted her soft skin in places she didn't know she had. The urges, the impulses, they kept buttoned down every day were free to rise and be heard for the first time. It was touch and be touched for the two Canadians that night in the last office on the left.