Disclaimers, yada yada yada ... no one was hurt, no one is making any money, Hal is about to have a breakdown and Brett is still clueless

A/N: This is the ultimate debate in the lives of most men ... this is where the real fun begins, hope you enjoy.

The Ultimate Debate: Moaners vs. Screamers

By Alfonsina

"Dude."

"Don't talk. Don't say one f-ing word to me."

"But."

"No. We are being exiled to Boston because of you. This is all your fault."

Granted it was just for a few days, but Brett and I were now driving to Beantown in a 'g'-ing snowstorm. Actually I was driving and he was being himself; oblivious, annoying and obtuse.

Since I didn't lose the weight I'd wanted to this year, I resolved this year I'd give up swearing. Unless it is absolutely necessary, explicatives aren't really all that important; satisfying yes, necessary, no. I'd decided to change tactics; I was using letters to explain just how mad I was. "F" is self explanatory, but the more frustrated I get, the higher I get on the alphabet. So far, I was still in the first octave, but I'd soon escalate.

We were quiet until he decided to play with the radio; I had planned to disconnect it before the drive and forgot about it. Now it was too late, I'd be stuck listening to whatever he wanted to for the next several hours. I'm personally an aficionado of audiobook or talk radio; I don't follow trends and words really aren't that trendy.

Somewhere around New Haven, he tried again.

"I didn't think that anyone else would know. I figured this would be our little secret. At least it was Tank who busted us and not Ranger. If Ranger had busted us, I doubt we'd be out of the hospital right about now."

"I had poor timing, I shouldn't be painted with the same brush you are."

"Yeah, but you really wanted to know, didn't you?"

I didn't want to admit it to Brett, much less to myself, but yes, I'd been curious. Lester had been bragging in the break room one day that he could get any woman to moan his name. Somehow the conversation wound around to which was better, a woman who screamed, moaned, talked, giggled, gasped or was quiet.

Everyone had an opinion, the majority wanted a moaner. Cal stated it best: a moaner is kind of like a screamer with a dimmer switch and you didn't have to worry about keeping up with conversation.

Brett decreed that screamers were the best. You'd know exactly how good you were if they couldn't talk the next day. He seemed to equate volume with performance capability and a technical review. Did the man make love wearing ear plugs? Was this really all that important? Obviously, yes, it was to Brett.

Personally, I go for quiet gaspers. I was with a woman once who was so loud her neighbors called the police. Not that a little vocal recognition for a solid performance isn't lovely, I just don't want to go deaf in the process. Plus if she's got kids, they aren't as likely to wake up if it is just gasping.

Now, I was praying that the snow storm didn't escalate and become a full on blizzard. I really prefer to drive in the rain, but it can't rain all the time. Thinking back on it, it would have been best if I'd just called in sick that day.

Now no matter what I did with Brett or where we were, he'd look at a woman and say, "Screamer", "Gasper" or "Moaner". He had an opinion on how he thought each woman would respond in bed. I know it was just conjecture, but he really didn't have the chops to back it up.

If Lester had been expressing his opinion, it would most likely be based on personal experience and not a guess. Lester had bedded a bevy of beauties from the tri-state area and could remember names, faces, preferences, and which brand of condom he used with which partner. His recollection was amazing; he could probably write better letters for Penthouse than the fiction they publish.

Why should any of this be such a big deal? Easy, Brett let his curiosity get the better of him. He needed to know about Stephanie. His curiosity was consuming him, he was obsessed by his compulsion. Why couldn't he be compulsive on the job or learning to use his computer?

I'm sure we all thought about it and wondered about her. But the rest of us valued our own skin and our jobs. It could just remain an unsolved mystery.

Unfortunately, I now know. Tank knows and so does Brett. I can only conjecture a guess that Ranger knows, but there's no way I'd ever ask him.

How did we three find out? That really is the $64,000 question, you know? Brett broke into Steph's apartment and slipped in a number of bugs. These weren't just standard bugs, they were incredibly sensitive. According to Brett, he'd be able to hear her shaving her legs and know whether or not she'd need a new blade.

Brett didn't want to take too many risks, or so he said. Isn't bugging her 'h'-ing apartment enough? He decided he'd just tune in a couple of times to a live feed. If there was no recording of it, it would be no harm, no foul. He'd retrieve the bugs and no one would be the wiser.

Two nights ago, we were supposed to relieve Caesar and Binky on a surveillance shift. Normally, we just meet in the control room and head out in a company rig. He was late by fifteen minutes. I called and he didn't pick up his phone; either landline or his cell. I didn't want to wait any more, so I headed back to four and pounded on his door.

I was about to get the passkey so I could get in. Brett might've had an accident or something. He could have fallen and knocked himself out; actually that was just wishful thinking on my part.

I was about to head back to the elevator when I spotted Tank in the hallway. He always had a passkey. I explained the situation and he opened the door for me.

There Brett was, sitting on the sofa wearing nothing but a small towel around his waist and a smile.

"Shh," he said putting his fingers to his lips. "It's getting really good now. The volume is all the way up."

"What the 'f' are you listening to?" I asked.

That's when it happened. Over the surround sound came a noise. It was soft and breathy at first. "Oooh." There was a significant pause followed by the sound of someone sucking in a breath and letting it out slowly. Then there was an "Ahhh." The sound of it stretched out forever. It was low and very involved. Probably her 'ah' had twelve syllables in it. God it was erotic.

I hadn't realized it, but I was drawn all the way into the room and I sat on his sofa. Tank followed me in but didn't sit.

"Is that?" Tank started to ask.

"Uh-huh," Brett said. "Now I can die a happy man."

Probably he could die a happy man. If anyone else knew about this, he'd die slowly and painfully after Stephanie plucked every hair follicle on his entire body with tweezers. Waxing wouldn't last long enough to make her happy; I'm sure of it.

"Fuck. You know you actually have a job and this isn't it. It is no one's business how Stephanie responds to anything," Tank said. This is one time when the use of the actual 'f' word really was justified no matter who was using it.

"But it sounds like she's just warming up. I'd love to know how long this can go on," Brett said.

So would I but there are responsibilities to be honored, privacy to be protected, and my skin to save.

"Get dressed. You need to get to the job site half an hour ago," snarled Tank. "We'll talk about this in the morning."

Brett reluctantly left the room and pulled on his uniform.

While Brett was changing, I said, "I thought Ranger was out of town."

"He is."

"S," I said.

"S?"

"Didn't really think it deserved a 'shit' just yet."

"Oh."

"What about Morelli?"

"Morelli has moved on to more amenable pastures," Tank said.

"So this is?"

"Bad. This is very, very bad."

No kidding. It would have been bad if it had been Steph with Morelli, in some regards far worse if she was making these sounds for Ranger. I was envying the guy she was with.

"God, that's sooooo gooooooood," came the voice and more of those breathy sounds.

"Fuck," I said.

"No shit."

Brett rejoined us and said, "Did I miss anything?"

I shook my head. No way was I going to listen to any more and no reason for him to torture himself.

"I'll lock up," said Tank. Sure he would. Tank would probably wait until the entire performance was over and shake hands with the devil tonight.

"Why haven't I tried this before?" sounded over the speakers. "It's soooo gooood."

~x~x~

We sat watching a warehouse until our asses were numb and I no longer wanted to kill Brett. I figured that Tank would do a much better job than I ever could.

"Theory confirmed," he said sounding a bit too smug.

"Theory?"

"Yeah, Steph is a moaner. A damn sexy moaner. I've got fodder for fantasies that'll last me for weeks."

Me too, but no way was I going to admit that to Brett.

~x~x~

The next morning, I was in the office extra early. I hadn't slept much and decided I'd make good use of my time getting on top of my weekly reports.

"Good morning," Stephanie said as she breezed past me to her cube. She looked happy and relaxed. She was even humming a little to herself.

"Morning. You sound chipper this morning," I said.

"I am. I had an amazing night."

"Good for you. I didn't think you were on schedule for today."

"I'm not. Tank asked me to drop in this morning. He said he had something special he wanted to go over with me."

I'd never see her smile at me again. Cordial office relations were now going to die, and it was going to be a painful death. Although, knowing that Brett was guiltier than I was made me smile a little.

I buried my nose in my report and didn't look up again until Brett tapped me on the shoulder. He looked like we were heading to the gallows. I still had hopes of walking out of Tank's office with all of my teeth and minimal bruising.

We headed to our doom slowly and in silence.

Tank was standing in front of his door to make sure we didn't bolt. He ushered us inside and closed the door.

"Explain," Tank said quietly.

Brett did his best to explain his curiosity and the fact that it wasn't a recorded event.

"And you?" Tank asked looking at me.

"What about me?"

"You knew about it, didn't you?"

"Sort of." I prefer to be more articulate, but the words were escaping me.

"Elaborate."

"I knew he was curious and that he'd dropped a fortune on some new audio equipment, but I didn't know what it was for or how he'd employ it."

"You did so," Brett piped up.

Wonderful.

"Excuse me?" I asked turning to look at him.

"You knew. I told you my plans a couple of nights ago when were at the gym," he said.

"But I don't ever listen to you," I started to say.

Tank leveled me a look that told me I was now in as much trouble as Brett was.

"You don't listen to your partner?" Tank asked.

Great. Open mouth, tell the truth and more than the truth comes out.

"It isn't like that. I listen to him when we're on shift. When he's running his mouth other times, I just let it in one ear and out the other." It was a skill I'd developed as a child. I'd hear my sisters talking about the same thing with a boy over and over and after a while it just sounded like birds in the background. I treated Brett the same way for my own protection.

Tank was furious.

"You can't tune him out. He's a savant of sorts. He has unexpected information that comes out when you least expect it. We've solved a lot of things because he's put pieces together that no one else thought about," Tank said.

Crap. I mean, "H".

"Sorry," I said to both of them.

"You are complicit in this, you know that don't you Hal?"

F G H I J K L M N O P, I'd have gone higher, but Tank was waiting for me to say something.

"No. I didn't think I was complicit. I figured I'd be absolved because I just walked in on the situation."

"You had the opportunity to tell me or Ranger what was going on and you said nothing. This could have been avoided."

Now I was probably going to need to interview plastic surgeons to have my nose reset after Tank or Ranger breaks it. Now I was going to have to look for a new job. Now I was going to have to relocate. Now I was going to have to apologize to Stephanie for inadvertently invading her privacy.

"… she has a special place here and she is to be respected at all times," Tank said to both of us. I'm sure whatever he'd been saying before this was important but I had no idea what it was.

"Can you at least tell us what the punishment is going to be?" Brett asked trying to hide behind me.

"Because it is cold and flu season and Boston has been especially hard hit, you are both going to fill in for a few days at their office."

That didn't sound so bad.

"Additionally, George has a distraction that you two will be perfect for. It's going to be George's first op, and your expertise will be valuable."

At least I'm finally going to get to meet George.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Stephanie will be in charge of packing additional items you'll need while you are there. She is also going to be making arrangements for your accommodations."

"Why can't we stay at the Rangeman office?" Brett asked.

"They are understaffed due to illness, all their apartments are utilized."

Maybe we'll wind up staying somewhere swank. I haven't been to Boston in an age; this could be good in an unintentional kind of a way.

"Dismissed," Tank said. He picked up his phone and dialed four digits. "Hey, Steph? Can you come in my office for a couple of minutes? Great."

We exited and headed down the stairs to avoid looking Stephanie in the eyes.

~x~x~

To be continued....

now, don't you want to know what the fallout is going to be? hmm? thanks as always for reading and reviewing ... Alf.