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Okay, this is a little something that just came to me. It's probably the shortest thing I've ever written and it's definitely PWP. Blame for it rests on the shoulders of Mary-Jo Eustace (Dean's wife) for a comment she made on her show about an hour ago.
Disclaimer: Everyone knows they’re not mine, but they sure are fun to play with.
Canada's Finest
by Tanya Reed
Inspector Meg Thatcher paced the foyer of the Canadian Consulate, ignoring the looks she was getting from the secretary whose desk rested at the centre of the building's three offices.
*It was supposed to be here today,* she thought impatiently as she made another round. Her eyes nervously went to the doors of the two offices that were not hers. She fervently hoped that her junior officers would remain inside like good little Constables. If they knew what she was doing, she'd die of embarrassment. A smile touched her normally severe face. Oh, but it would be worth it.
The sound of someone coming up the stairs made Meg stop and hold her breath. Anticipation tingled through her, and it seemed to take years for him to reach the top. Eventually, he did, however, and she confirmed him to be the postman. Trying to look like her normal Inspector self, Meg couldn't help the little bounce in her step as she went to meet him.
"Inspector M. Thatcher?" he asked.
She nodded. "Do you have a package for me?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Butterflies danced in her stomach as she reached for it. Calmly, she asked, "Is there any other mail?"
"Nope, that's it for today."
"Okay. Thank you."
With that, she hurried past the surprised Denise and into the safety of her office. Turning, she locked the door behind her and brought the package to her desk. In delight, she stared at it for several seconds, wanting the moment to last.
When she could wait no longer, Meg ripped off the brown wrapper and tore into the box beneath. Styrofoam peanuts went everywhere, but for once, she wasn't thinking about neatness.
Reaching her prize, Meg let out a happy sigh. Gently, she lifted the paper object as if it were made of glass. Idly, her mind wondered what had made them do it. Oh, she knew it was for charity, but she couldn't think of two men least likely to...Now, what month was it? Oh, yes, May!
Quickly, she flipped through the pages, hardly noticing handsome, smiling faces. At April, she stopped and slowly turned to the next page. The picture made her gasp. So much skin!
For a moment, Meg was stunned as she saw the picture captioned: "Constables Benton Fraser and Renfield Turnbull, Canadian Consulate, Chicago." Then, her eyes greedily took in the sight of her two junior officers, posed together and actually smiling, wearing nothing but their boxer shorts. Smooth, beautiful muscles, gentle curves, flat stomachs, sparkling eyes. Oh, my!
She flopped down into her chair, her suddenly weak knees refusing to support her. These calendars would definitely make a bundle for The American Cancer Society.
With a slightly dazed smile, she whispered, "Definitely two of Canada's finest."
The End