Monday, February 15, 2010

Give Me a Break



Gimme a Break
Authors: Rolf and Ranger


"Excuse me," Michael said as he exited the electronics store. 
The teenager glared at him as he continued down the hallway, acting as if he owned the joint. 
"You're WELCOME," Michael muttered, turning to go in the other direction. He was on a quest at the local mall for particular piece of hardware that would allow him to listen to his computer in another part of the house. 
Eric was at work so Michael was trying to relieve some Saturday afternoon boredom by shopping. He had one more store to check out but the ice cream counter was beckoning. Stepping across the hallway, he stood in the line that was about five people deep and checked out the menu. He was trying to decide between mocha and chocolate when a hand dropped on his shoulder.
"Mike? What are you doing so far from home?"
Michael glanced round and smiled at the sight of one of his college friends, another computer technician who worked for one of the big corporates on the other side of the city. He waved a hand at the nearest of the computer stores.
"Looking to upgrade as usual. What about you?"
"Here with some friends." Jason's nod took in several men and their girlfriends who were joining the ice cream queue.
"Just out for ice cream?" Michael asked, getting introduced to the rest of the group.
"We met up here, but we're going over to the KitKat Club tonight. There's a group there that the girls talked us into going to see -"
"The Fab Seven!" Michael finished, his eyes lighting up. "Between them and the club itself, it should be quite a show."
"You know the group?" Jason asked, taking a step forward as the line moved.
Who didn't? Mike gave him a wry nod.
"In about every paper. I've heard of the club too. How did you get tickets?"
"Contacts." Jason laid a finger alongside his nose with a wry _expression.
Mike resisted the urge to grimace. The one contact he had capable of extracting tickets to that club was Rolf, and Rolf most decidedly would NOT give Michael, or anyone else he knew, tickets to there. Most especially if the person in question happened to be someone else's brat. Eric had been free with his opinion of the club and unfortunately all their toppishly inclined friends had swallowed them without question. Something that the non toppish contingent were far more unconvinced about. 
One of the girls' cell phones rang and she looked at the number before taking the call. She walked away and came back a moment later with her bottom lip hanging out. "Johnny is stuck at work and won't be able to make it," she said, when one of the others asked her what was wrong.
"No one could cover for him?" Jason asked.
"No. They're trying to get a shipment out and the factory is late getting it to the warehouse. He's got to stay until that's done and he said at the moment it'll be at least three hours before he has it, and then it'll take the time to get it repackaged and out onto the truck," Kelly replied.
"Sucks." Jason said shortly. "Mike, do you want the ticket? Are you busy tonight?"
It was that casual, that quickly flung out.
Hey Mike, want a ticket to the hottest and more infamous club in the area? A club people waited for months for tickets for, where the most photographed people in three states spent the evenings?
And where Eric had said flat out he was never going to go.
"I...uh...really shouldn't -" Mike began, but Jason interrupted cheerfully.
"Oh come on. If you don't have anything to do, and a free ticket to THE hottest act in town tonight, and a very pretty lady to sit next to...."
"I could use a date, that's for sure," Kelly said, in amongst everyone else adding that Michael needed to come along.
Mike gave Jason a rather embarrassed look, since Jason clearly hadn't clocked that Kelly could be the prettiest lady in the western hemisphere and he still wouldn't care much, but the thought of the ticket was tempting. Eric was on duty all evening - he wouldn't be home before midnight and he wouldn't call either. It would be enough to get inside the club, if only for a few minutes. See who was there, what the Fab Seven looked like, then he could leave. Just long enough to get a taste. And with everyone looking at him and telling him he needed to go - how was he going to say no?
"Okay, thanks," Michael said, swallowing on the uneasy feeling he felt the minute he decided to do something against Eric's wishes. He got picked up in the excitement of the moment as talk turned to who might be there. By the time they all finished their various ice creams, Eric was pretty much forgotten about.
************************************
The club really was what it had been cracked up to be. No one inside was dressed up - it was wonderfully casual - but it was spacious and glittery and modern, and the people inside it made Michael stare.
The main dance floor was huge, with a raised stage at one end. The ceiling soared upwards, with lights and mirrors set to make it appear even larger and more spacious. There were a few posts off to the sides that held small platforms where there were currently a few men in next to nothing dancing to the music. In the back and partway up the sides of the dance floor there was a balcony where several people were standing along the railing, with tables to be seen behind them. The bar itself was off to the left side of the dance floor, neon colours pulsing in time to the music. It was busy inside, but the people they'd had to walk through to get to the door were amazing. Michael felt like a celebrity himself, knowing if he hadn't met up with Jason his luck at getting a ticket would have matched all of those people waiting in vain hope and long lines outside.
It seemed amazingly civilised too. All of Eric's mutterings about the owner and his history and what went on here was entirely unjustified. Somehow, while he'd intended to stay only a few minutes, Mike found himself forgetting the time.
Jason and the others danced, they sat at the table and ordered food. Mike carefully stuck to soft drinks but couldn't keep his eyes off the far table.
"Who's that over there?" he asked Kelly, inclining his head.
"That's one of those rappers - Jazzy Razzy or something like that. Must be his posse sitting around. He's basically holding court, isn't he?"
"That's what it looks like. You're about done with your drink, want another one?"
"Thanks. It's a frozen screwdriver," Kelly said, as Michael got up and headed towards the bar. He shouldered his way through the dancers and stood at the bar waiting to catch the bartender's eye.
The bar was packed and he was still waiting when someone touched his arm. He recognised the man, despite the fact he was wearing casual clothes and a leather jacket instead of the usual police uniform.
"Mike? Remember me? I work for the same company as your partner Eric does."
"Yeah, of course, you're -"
"Lucas," the guy said quickly. 
"Yeah..uhm....how are you?" Michael asked, his stomach plummeting and the drink order all but forgotten.
"I'm good," Lucas said, trying to lighten up a little. "Are you here with anyone?"
"Just some friends," Michael said as lightly as he could. "Not Eric. I, er-"
"You should round them up and head out of here. This isn't the place to be."
"I came to see the show," Michael stammered, caught between wanting to stay since he was already here, but starting to get an unsettled feeling about where this could go.
Lucas looked around then took Mike by the arm and moved him a little ways away from the bar. 
"You REALLY don't want to be here. Go home. I can make this official if I must."
That wasn't comforting. Mike fought and lost with a rather plaintive urge.
"Yes- ok. Just- please don't tell Eric you saw me?"
Lucas grinned but nodded. "I see. Ok, I promise, IF you get out of here now."
"Gone." Mike promised.
"I'll see you later," Lucas said, walking off.
Michael debated, then went back to the bar to get the drink for Kelly. She wasn't at the table when he found his way back and with the show a mere fifteen minutes away from starting, he figured they'd all be on the floor as close to the stage as possible. He left a note, knowing there was no way he could talk the rest of the group out of leaving without giving a reason. He went back through the club and spotting Lucas watching him, quickly found his way to the door and left.
For some reason his heart thudded guiltily all the way home, a good twenty minute drive. The house was quiet, unlit as there was still a couple of hours to go before Eric came home, and Mike put the lights on and changed into more comfortable clothes with a brief sigh of relief. He was home. He was stone cold sober. Lucas had promised not to say a word. There was no reason Eric ever needed to know about that particular, short er visit.
He made himself a sandwich, settled in front of the tv and did his best to calm his nerves. Once the sandwich was gone he channel surfed until he found a movie starting that he liked, and settled back into the couch to watch it. The credits had just started when Mike heard Eric's key in the door. His settled nerves woke up immediately. Eric came in quietly as he always did when he came home late, careful not to disturb if Mike had already taken himself to bed. The fact that Mike very rarely ever did that made no difference. Mike tipped his head back over the sofa, watching him peel his jacket off.
"Hi."
"Hi yourself." Eric came over, kissing him on the way to the kitchen. "I'm starving. How was your evening?"
"Ok." Mike turned back to the tv, a little uncomfortable and trying hard not to show it. "I didn't find the part I wanted for the computer. What about you?"
"Oh, all right." Eric came back into the doorway, leaning against the doorpost. "What does 'ok' mean?"
"Why?" Michael asked, trying not to sound suspicious. Eric shrugged.
"It's neither good, bad or indifferent. Which was it?"
This was getting perilously close to lying.
"Indifferent?" Mike said lightly. Eric went back to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Grateful for the respite Mike turned off the tv and was forestalled from heading to bed by Eric sitting on the arm of the sofa in his way.
"What was indifferent about it?"
"It just wasn't overly exciting?" Mike replied, swallowing hard on the tremors his stomach was starting to make. Eric's attempts at conversation were gentle but they were extremely well targeted. "Ready for bed?"
"I need to drink my tea first." Eric nodded casually at the tv. "Did you see NCIS?"
"Drats, I forgot that was on. Watched Jaws instead, that came on Showtime," Mike replied, settling against the other arm of the sofa when Eric showed no signs of moving.
"It's not like you to miss NCIS. I thought Jaws was later?"
"I had dinner a little later. I'm going to head on upstairs," Mike said, unable to meet Eric's eyes and feeling extremely close to having to lie.
Eric caught his hand as he got up, running a thumb over his palm. "What?"
"Nothing." Mike tried pulling his hand away. "Why the twenty questions anyway?"
Eric's eyebrow lifted. "Michael. Is there something you want to tell me?"
"No," Michael replied, feeling immediately defensive and unable to do anything about it.
Eric kept hold of his hand, drawing him back towards the sofa. "Then come tell me why you're flushing and getting tenser by the minute, and why you're making guilt noises?"
"I'm not! Just because you went to work doesn't mean that I did anything wrong! You're home now; you can just be Eric, not Officer Eric."
Eric didn't answer, keeping hold of his hand and waiting.
"Whaaaaaaat?" Mike exploded, whining in spite of himself. "I didn't DO anything!" A small stamp completed the exclamation point.
"You're the only person I know who can stamp sitting down." Eric said mildly. "Are you going to tell me?"
"Tell you what? That I went to the mall and couldn't find what I wanted, ate ice cream, came home and had dinner and watched Jaws? Is that a crime now?"
"That was absolutely all you did today?" Eric asked.
Mike managed to get his eyes up to meet his partner's. Unable to actually lie and say yes, he said while nodding yes, "That's what I said."
"Sure?" Eric asked, running a thumb over his palm.
Mike kept nodding dumbly, trying to keep his feet from walking him out of the situation. Eric nodded and got up, finishing his tea.
"Go on up to bed then. I'll be up in a minute."
It took Michael a minute to process that information. When the connection between his ears and brain was complete, he scrambled quickly to his feet and headed upstairs, finding only when he got to the top that he'd been holding his breath.
He scrambled into nightclothes as fast as possible, planning to be in bed and heading towards sleep by the time Eric came upstairs. He was just climbing under the covers when Eric appeared, down to his shirt and pants now having shed his jacket, belt and everything else downstairs and put away. He beckoned when he saw Mike, taking a seat on the bed.
"Come and sit here with me."
All of the warning bells started going off again but there was nothing to do but come around the end of the bed and sit down next to Eric. He hoped doing so quietly would make it end much quicker.
"Want to tell me why you're lying to me?" Eric asked mildly.
Mike had to cough before he could speak, his throat having gone desert dry when Eric asked that question. "I...I didn't?" he tried, wondering what in the world might have given him away.
Eric shook his head, linking his hands between his knees in a way that reminded Michael just how big and solid his shoulders were.
"You spoke to Officer Lucas Harringey in the Kitkat club at eight fifty two pm this evening."
A physical punch to the stomach couldn't have emptied the air from his lungs any better than that statement from his partner. He looked quickly at Eric, who at the moment was still staring at his hands.
"Lucas didn't tell on you." Eric said quietly. "He was wired for sound and carrying a camera. He was one of five of my department in plain clothes in the club tonight carrying out surveillance. You were tagged very early on because most of them recognised you." 
That brought Michael's head down fast though he still couldn't form coherent thoughts. He just knew things had gone from bad to very ugly in a heartbeat.
Eric waited, since he didn't plan on carrying out this entire conversation alone.
"Were - were you there?" Mike hazarded after a moment's awful silence. "Were you in the club?"
"No." Eric said gravely. "And it's just as well, because you'd have blown my cover wide. You'd have done it without thinking and wrecked the entire operation."
"I wouldn't have!" Michael said quickly, knowing how dangerous that would be for his partner. "I didn't intend on going to the club when I went to the mall. It just sort of....sort of happened."
"If you'd seen me where you didn't expect me to be, in plain clothes, you'd have reacted." Eric said, shaking his head. "Which is ONE of the reasons I told you that you weren't to go to that club. The other reasons involve why our department and the FBI WANT a team surveilling there, and that's nothing to do with you. Just be very sure Michael, I didn't want you anywhere near it."
"Where were you?" Mike asked very, very uncertainly.
"In an unmarked van, about 500 yards away." Eric informed him. "Watching the monitors. No one had to tell me Michael, I saw you myself on camera and I asked Lucas to get you out of there if he could do it without drawing attention."
"I didn't blow his cover, did I?" Michael asked in horror.
"No, Lucas directed the conversation so that you didn't mention anything about the police. But that really isn't the point, is it?" Eric asked, looking firmly at his partner's face.
"No, sir," Michael replied sadly. "I was told it was off limits, I should have respected that fully."
"No kidding." Eric said dryly. "Do you want to tell me why you decided to lie to me about it?"
"Because it was a momentary lapse in judgement?" Michael said, more as a question than a statement.
"Michael." Eric said sharply.
Damn. The bullshit monitor was working loud and clear too. Mike stared down at his hands, lost for a better answer.
"I thought I'd give you a chance to tell me yourself," Eric said, very sternly. "Not that I wouldn't have known something was up the moment I saw your face. I gave you at least three chances. You lied to me every time."
Mike shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "I didn't go out tonight intending to go to the club. I was at the mall and Jason showed up with a group of friends. Someone called in and couldn't make it. We had already talked about how great a show it was going to be. I found it very hard to say no. "
"I can understand." Eric gave Mike a steady look. "Except you know what you should have said. It being hard doesn't mean you get to go. And that still doesn't explain why you persistently lied to me."
"I'm sorry," Mike said sincerely. "I shouldn't have gone. Since I was chased out pretty soon after getting there and nothing happened, I just thought that that was that."
"And that's a reason for lying?" Eric put a hand under Mike's chin and made him look, eyes NOT happy. "You might have a hundred and one reasons for going to that club, but to look me in the eye and lie is something else altogether."
"No, sir," Michael said, tears pricking his eyes. "Jason and his group saw me at the mall. One of them called in and said they couldn't go and Jason and everyone else asked me, begged me to come along. I couldn't say no after I'd already said I'd love to go."
"What does that have to do with lying?" Eric said slightly more loudly. "What does not being able to say no have to do with then lying instead of telling me about it? How does that influence you Mike, because that is what I really have trouble understanding. I asked, I gave you every chance to tell me and you didn't. "
"I knew it was wrong." Tears slipped down Michael's face as he turned away. "I didn't want to disappoint you and I made it worse. I'm sorry."
"That doesn't get you out of it." Eric lowered his voice, finally having got an answer. "It's bad enough you decided to go there. I'd made it very, very clear you weren't to go near that place, and you knew it perfectly well. But I do NOT like being lied to."
"I'm sorry," Michael said, fighting back the urge to start sobbing.
"You'd heard me say more than once I didn't want you in that club." Eric said shortly, taking no notice. "You must have known I had good reason."
"That didn't change the fact I still wanted to see what it was like," Michael said, turning back towards Eric. "I didn't know it was that serious though."
"So I say no, and you want to see what it's like, so you go anyway?"
"I didn't doooooo that," Michael pleaded. "It was hard for me to say no to the chance to see. I didn't go looking for tickets, it just happened.
"You should have said no." Eric said bluntly. "There's no excuse whatever for NOT saying no. I mean what I say Michael, I have reason and I expect to be obeyed without having to explain to you about police operations you have no business knowing about."
"Yes, sir." Michael had nothing else to add. As Eric usually pointed out, the bottom line was that he'd said no, which should have been enough. He wanted to explain that he hadn't bought the tickets, hadn't courted them in any way. They were just presented to him in such a manner that saying no was hard. And he'd gone. Yes, it was wrong, but he didn't stay long, didn't drink, didn't even get to see the show. Nothing had happened. No harm, no foul. And that logic would have worked brilliantly if Eric hadn't been listening and watching from a van 500 yards from the bar.
Eric waited a moment more to see if Mike had anything else to say. It was clear he hadn't. It was late at night, too late for this, but at the same time he was well aware that they were neither of them going to get any sleep until it was finished with.
"All right." he said quietly. "Go downstairs and get the paddle please."
Michael slowly stood up and began the sickening walk down for the paddle. He wanted to argue, but he'd be arguing for no good reason. His mouth went dry again and his stomach quivered as his hand closed on the hated piece of wood. Feeling about a hundred pounds heavier, he slowly climbed the stairs and made his way back into their room.
Eric silently held out a hand for it, then when Mike didn't move, leaned over and took it from him. He laid it on the bedside table and got up, taking Mike silently by the hand and steering him into the bathroom where he turned the tap on and took the bar of ivory soap down from the shelf.
Tears ran silently down Mike's face and he said the only thing he thought might help, even if the chances were miniscule at best. "Please?" he said quietly, shaking his head no.
"Open," was all Eric said. When Mike complied, he pushed the bar in and let go. "I don't care what the reasoning is behind it, but I will not be lied to. Not for something big, and not for something small. It is not something I expect from you, and if words aren't enough, then maybe avoiding soap will help. Face the wall."
Eric washed and dried his hands and left Michael to think that over facing the bathroom wall. He sat out of Michael's sight and flipped through a magazine, giving the soap time to make a good impression. When he thought Michael had waited long enough, he went back into the bathroom.
There was nothing more disgusting than trying to hang on to a soggy and melting soap bar with your teeth without tasting it any more than was absolutely necessary. Between the taste which was vile and which permeated relentlessly everywhere, leading to trickles and bubbles running down his chin, and the certain knowledge that Eric had to be really unhappy to go this far since soap was something very rarely used in their house, tears were starting to run pretty steadily down Michael's face. Eric turned Mike around by the shoulder, took the soap bar back without regard for how wet it now was, and looked Michael dead in the eyes.
"I don't like you lying to me Mike. No matter why, no matter what. I don't want to ever have to stop and think whether or not I can trust what you say, and I still don't believe that I asked you a straight question without getting a straight, honest answer. That's what I always expect from you without question, just like that's what you can always expect of me no matter what it is you ask. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," Michael managed before cupping his hand under his chin and diving for the sink to spit out a mouthful of suds. Soap was disgusting on its own, but when combined with saliva thick with tears, it was almost impossible to get rid of. 
"I'm sorry," Michael sobbed into the sink in between almost useless attempts to spit.
"I know you are." Eric put a hand on his back, sounding a good deal gentler. "I know you mean it. But no matter how good an idea it seems at the time, no matter how easier it is, it's not worth it Mike. I don't want to have to do this again, do you?"
"No," Michael answered with conviction, wiping the last of the suds from his face. But as nasty as that had been, he'd much prefer still holding it to what awaited him in the bedroom. His stomach clinched painfully when Eric said enough and waited for him to exit the bathroom.
Eric waited until Mike walked slowly ahead of him into the bedroom and followed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and picking up the paddle. And then he held out a hand to Michael, giving him a look that Mike perfectly well understood, even if it brought a fresh rush of tears to his eyes. His stomach, which had been churning like a cement mixer at the sight of the paddle in Eric's hands, now plummeted hard towards his feet, his shoulders began to prickle with sweat under his t shirt and his throat began to ache with the effort of swallowing sobs of pure apprehension.
He begged silently for relief and when none came, had little to do but push his pjs down his slim hips and bend across Eric's knees. Once horizontal, the tears couldn't be contained and he sobbed miserably into the bedcovers. If he wasn't already uncomfortable enough, Eric moved him into an even more uncomfortable position and he flinched when the cool paddle was laid against his skin.
"You want to tell me what this is for?" Eric said quietly above him.
"For going to the club I was forbidden to go to, and then lying about it," Michael said quickly into the covers, tensing as he finished the sentence.
"That about covers it." Eric didn't make him wait any longer. The paddle lifted, there was the split, horrible second of waiting, and then the shockingly loud crack followed by a blaze of combined heat, sting and smart that made Mike jump involuntarily, the yell shaken out of him.
"Ah!"
It wasn't in time to mark the first before the second fell, and the third, and the fourth in a swift, sharp rhythm and Mike squirmed wildly, not able to help himself or to catch his breath. Eric's anchoring hand on his hip didn't move and that relentless rain of swats didn't slow for a second, giving no respite for breathing or for trying to take this with any kind of grace. He kicked uselessly when the swats hit a particularly sensitive area of skin and when one landed across the upper part of his buttock, moved his hand back to try and protect himself. Eric moved the hand out of the way without a word and continued swatting the paddle down in sharp movements, covering everywhere between hip and thigh a few times over. It hurt a lot inflicting this pain on his partner, but knowing he did so to prevent any worse damage kept him resolute.
He therefore continued without pause, working the paddle steadily around the target area until it was one, uniform colour, half his attention on Mike. He was beyond trying not to struggle now, or managing any kind of organised response. He was sobbing hard as he had been from the start, but the tone was changing as someone who knew Mike well would have recognised. Eric moved the paddle down a few inches and concentrated a few last, sound swats on the lowest slopes of his partner's now scarlet backside and the top of his thighs, making very sure that Mike would have the lasting reminder of this spanking through tomorrow when he sat down, and ensuring to the best of his ability that Mike would have a very strong reason not to want to go to forbidden clubs again no matter how attractive they were.
Michael noticed the quiet before he knew the paddling had ended. He stretched his legs trying to alleviate something of the fire and throbbing to no avail. When Eric released his side, he slid to the floor on his knees, sobbing hard into the side of the bed. Eric's hand on his back was soothing, but it took a long time to get over the worst of the crying. He was going to be feeling this for a long time to come.
Eric laid the paddle down and sat with him, rubbing his shoulders in slow, heavy circles and saying nothing. It wasn't pleasant to hear Michael cry, but it wasn't a crisis either. They both understood very well how this worked, it was based on an old and valued agreement and in both their eyes - although Mike fervently preferred not to have to take any active part in such value judgements - this was quite necessary. When Mike began to regain his breath and to quieten, Eric took a discreet glance at his watch and helped Mike to his feet.
"Go and wash your face. Be quick, it's late."
Michael headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Trying not to look at his face, he bent over the sink and splashed water on, both to clean and to cool. He shivered as the fine sheen of sweat cooled on his body. He allowed himself one mouthful of water to try and get the worst of the thick saliva out of his mouth before grabbing a towel and wiping his face dry. His tears were still freely running but the sobbing had dissipated, leaving only hitching breaths as he hung the towel back up. He left his pjs on the floor and crawled into bed, settling on his front and burying his head into his pillow.
Eric had undressed while he was gone: in shorts and nothing else, he looked no less large but a good deal less stern and he closed the wardrobe door, coming to sit on Mike's side of the bed where he held out his arms.
"Come here."
Mike flopped his upper body into Eric's lap, his arms wrapped around Eric's sides. Knowing he was forgiven didn't make the spanking any less physically painful, but the tension all evening of withholding information from his partner was released. Eric hugged him tightly, resting his forehead against Mike's scattered and hot hair.
"You are absolutely not to go to that club again under any circumstances. And you're also not to breathe a word about police involvement there to anyone, Mike. Not even to Matthew or Todd."
"I won't, I promise," Mike said. He knew too well the dangers of letting privileged police information out to the general public. He trusted Matthew and Todd, but even with that he wasn't going to trust Eric's life into anyone's hands if he could help it. Eric dropped a kiss into his hair, lifted Mike's chin and kissed him on the lips, gently and very warmly.
"Move over sweetheart."
Michael carefully scooted over, giving Eric room to slide in bed next to him. He settled with his head in the crook of Eric's arm, his left arm slung across his chest, tight almost to the point of being uncomfortable. It was going to take ages to fall asleep, the pain of his freshly paddled backside just shy of what it had been when the last swat landed. But, it was over, tomorrow was a new day and there wasn't anything to worry about having to tell, or not tell, his partner. 
Eric turned out the light, lay back and tightened the arm around Mike, returning the embrace just as tightly.
"You always know." Mike muffled softly into his chest. He felt Eric stir to look down at him.
"What?"
"It's a cop thing. You always know. It's bad enough that Rolf and Joe know everything naturally but you're a cop TOO."
"I would have known even if I'd been nowhere near the club tonight." Eric said mildly. "Even if no one had seen you and you'd come home totally unseen."
"How?" Mike demanded, outraged. "I'm not THAT obvious, I didn't stay late or drink or anything you'd have spotted- what are you? Supertop?!"
Eric didn't answer but reached for Mike's left hand, tugging gently at the strip of plastic around it.
"You're still wearing a Kitkat entry bracelet love. What kind of a cop do you think I am?"
"A better cop than I am liar," Mike replied, glad of the cover of the darkness as he felt the furious blush cover his cheeks. He manoeuvred around until he could yank the bracelet free and dropped it on the ground.
Eric pulled him back and hugged him, once more settling with Mike held securely in his arms.
"Don't you worry. I'm all for you being a rotten liar."
~The End~
Copyright Rolf and Ranger 2010

No comments:


Happy Holidays
The 2017 Advent Calendar is Now Available



Most of the artwork on the blog is by Canadian artist Steve Walker.

Rolf and Ranger’s Next Book will be called The Mary Ellen Carter. The Mary Ellen Carter and other works in progress can be read at either the Falls Chance Ranch Discussion Group or the Falls Chance Forum before they are posted here at the blog. So come and talk to the authors and be a part of a work in progress.





Do you want to read the FCR Books
and Short Stories on your E-Reader?
Well, lucky for you, e-book files can be found in
both the Yahoo Group and the Discussion Forum.