~*~Just The Facts~*~

~~Just The Facts~~

{{RATED-PG.}}

JUST THE FACTS

July 22, 1965

I suppose I should have known my big mouth would get me into some real trouble with Tracy, eventually.

The whole business started innocently enough. We were relaxing by a sunny window in the first class lounge at JFK airport early that morning, enjoying orange juice and coffee and waiting for Tracy's flight to Toronto to begin boarding at the gate.

"So you really don't think I could pull it off, love?" Tracy sat across from me, one eyebrow cocked.

"No--I mean, yes! It isn't that at all--I have absolute faith in your acting ability--"

"Well, that's a relief," he grinned, resting his chin on his hand. I idly ran my fingertip along the painted airline logo on my juice glass and attempted to make some kind of sense.

"It's just that...oh, well. It's difficult for me to picture you as a villainous, corrupt policeman, you know?" After a sip of cold juice, I tried again. "I mean, I agree--it's a great chance to do something other than the witty, sophisticated Brit role, and certainly a District One episode is a feather in any actor's cap, but..."

"But what?" Tracy asked with a theatrically wounded look on his face.

"But I've seen you on Saturday mornings in your pajamas, eating Crispy Critters cereal--"

"Shhhh!" he said in mock-alarm. "If word of my Crispy Critters habit gets out, my reputation is ruined."

"My lips are sealed, darling."

"I knew I could rely on you." He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it softly. "However, Lacey darlin', I'm going to take the utmost delight in proving you wrong about my capacity for villainy..."

"You are, are you?" I gazed at my husband's handsome face, as a most unusual expression crossed his features. There was a hint of steely challenge in his pale green eyes, and he tilted his chin as if to accept my unspoken dare.

"The utmost delight," he said, in a low voice that suddenly made me feel a tiny shiver of fear--or was it anticipation?

Flight 207 to Toronto, Ontario, now boarding at Gate 16...

"Right then, darlin', this is it." Tracy squeezed my hand, and we walked to the gate arm-in-arm.

"Say hello to everyone at the network for me," I said, holding him close and kissing him on the cheek. "And I am sure you'll come back tonight with some good news about District One."

Tracy smiled down at me and softly swept my bangs from my eyes.

"You really are sure, aren't you?" He beamed, and I was a bit surprised at how flattered my husband seemed to be at my genuine belief in his talents. "It is a bit of a stretch, this role, but lately I seem to have a knack for doing the unexpected and having it all come up roses." He tapped the tip of my nose and smiled. "Marrying you, for example. I do believe you're a lucky charm, Mrs. Rattigan."

"Better a Lucky Charm than a Crispy Critter," I quipped.

"I am a bad influence on you, my love," said Tracy, laughing as he headed for the plane.

The rest of the day went smoothly--I took advantage of the free afternoon and hit my favorite camera shops, adding yet another special-effects filter to my growing collection of photographic toys. By that evening, though, the heat of a New York City summer had gotten to me, despite my shop-'till-you-drop determination. Feeling a bit wilted, I returned to the townhouse and hit the fridge for a tall glass of lemonade, then checked in with our answering service.

"A call came in from Toronto International Airport from Mr. Rattigan..." she began.

"Thanks," I said, as my heart sank. I polished off the lemonade, then dialed the number the operator gave me.

"Lacey, they've canceled my flight this evening--"

"Oh, no."

"Mechanical troubles, I'm afraid. At least they discovered the problem while the aircraft was still on the ground--a bright side, right?"

"Can't argue with that logic," I replied with a sigh.

"I'll be on a much later flight--I might not get back until three a.m. or so, unless I get lucky on standby. Don't wait up for me, darlin'."

"Okay..." He couldn't see the pout I was wearing, but he must have heard a trace of it in my voice.

"Dreadful, isn't it? You're sleeping alone in the house, and I'm sleeping with two hundred strangers on a crowded plane, on a pillow the size of a postage stamp. Whoever said show business was glamorous should have his bloody head examined..."

It always struck me as funny--as an only child and a single girl, I'd been on my own at night for most of my life, but after a few short months of marriage, I'd somehow grown accustomed to having my husband there to curl up with at bedtime. About eleven o'clock, I took a cool shower, tied my hair up in a high ponytail and slipped into my tiniest blue cotton babydoll nightgown, opening the bedroom window just a little to let the night breeze blow softly across the crisp white sheets. And to my surprise, I fell soundly asleep before my favorite late night talk show host could even finish his monologue.

"Don't move, miss."

I was suddenly wide awake and aware of two large hands gently but firmly pinning my wrists to the bed. I tried to scream, but I could only manage a muffled sob. This cannot be happening, I thought, my heart pounding like a jackhammer. Please, let this be a bad dream...

"Don't make a sound."

The intruder snapped on the bedside lamp, and as my eyes adjusted to the dim light I could make out the figure of a man of five foot nine or so, dressed in the summer version of a full police uniform--a light blue shirt with epaulets, a dark blue tie and trousers, a gleaming brass badge over his left breast pocket, and a large, deep blue cap pulled down low over the most commanding silver-green eyes I'd ever seen.

"Oh, Tracy! You nearly gave me a heart attack--"

"The correct form of address is Officer, miss." His voice was low and raspy, and his accent seemed to lace his words with a distant menace. "Out of the bed--now."

As he let go of my wrists, I slid to the other side of the bed and stood, feeling suddenly overexposed in my short nightgown, while his eyes never left me for an instant. Okay, fine, I thought. I'll play along; this could be fun. But my heart was racing in a way that made me wonder just how much playing was going on here...

"Very nice," the officer said, picking up an antique figurine from my vanity table and examining it with a cruel little grin. "Looks like your family's done quite well since you moved your shop to the area. Of course, there are certain costs involved in doing business in this neighborhood. One wants to see that one's establishment is properly...protected, shall we say?"

"Listen...officer. We don't keep any cash in the house--"

"Come now, miss--I find that very hard to believe. With all these expensive little treasures lying about..." Slowly, he walked toward me, wearing that same dangerous smile while his eyes scanned my body once more. "Plenty of very desirable things around here," he added, almost as an afterthought. We were face-to-face now, and my officer's steely green eyes stared into mine with an expression that was both maddeningly seductive and infuriatingly dominant. I felt a very real flash of anger as I snatched my robe from the vanity chair and tied it around my waist, shielding myself from his appraising gaze.

"Just what is it that you want, officer?"

"Cash will do," he said. "For now."

He was standing between me and the bedroom dresser, blocking my path. I couldn't help giving my local policeman the once-over; his tailored summer blues hugged his broad shoulders, tapered waist and trim hips like a glove. With his badge gleaming and his cap's visor casting a shadow over his handsome face, he looked every bit the picture of firm, unswerving authority. He also looked--I almost hated to admit it--very, very sexy indeed...

"All right," I sighed. I walked toward the dresser, but he stood right where he was, his hand on his hip; I had to squeeze past him to get to the top drawer.

"Hold it right there, miss. Freeze, and put your hands on top of the dresser." I looked into the old-fashioned mirror above the dresser just in time to see him walk up behind me with a subtle swagger. He stared into my reflected eyes and raised his brow, skeptically. "We wouldn't want any surprises, now, would we? No sense in letting you slip a weapon into the pocket of that robe you're wearing..." Smiling slightly, he issued yet another order. "Stretch your arms out behind your back, please."

I did as he said, and he slipped the robe from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

"Hands back on the dresser. This will only take a minute..." And with a crooked little grin, my officer began to frisk me--very slowly and very thoroughly. His fingertips made my skin tingle as he swept them from my upper arms to my sides, and when he reached around to my now-heaving chest and began to gently--but very firmly--cup my round bosom in his hands, I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Miss," he murmured, bringing his warm, soft lips to my ear, "I may not be a model officer of the law, but there are certain circumstances in which I do strive to maintain my status as a gentleman. I will not proceed any further with this search..." he gave my bosom a squeeze, running his thumbs across the peaks of my breasts and sending an electric wave of delight through my body, "unless I have been granted permission."

Tracy's quiet voice seemed almost tender as he spoke, and he kissed the soft spot beneath my ear and took my hand, breaking character for a tiny but infinitely reassuring second before the firmness returned to his manner again.

"Is permission granted?"

I nodded at his reflection, and he shook his head no, while his hands moved lower, outlining the curve of my waist before resting with a firm grip on the sides of my hips.

"I'll need verbal permission, miss."

"Permission granted, officer," I said breathlessly, as my heart began to pound.

Without a word, he pulled up even closer to me and pressed his hips against my bottom, the contour of his body leaving no doubt as to how he felt about this unorthodox late night strip search. His lips sought my neck, kissing me so fiercely that I knew I'd be wearing a mark to show for it the next day. My officer's hands roamed freely--his left hand returned to my bosom and caressed me with a firm and demanding touch, while his right hand began to play with the elastic at the lace-trimmed waistband of my panties.

"These will have to come off," he grunted in a husky, sensual voice, his green eyes flashing. "Standard procedure. Raise your arms..."

I took a long, deep breath as he pulled my short nightgown over my head and flung it aside--then I looked at the two of us in the large antique mirror, totally fascinated and aroused by the sight of my near-nakedness against his strong, compact, fully-uniformed body.

"Officer..."

"Remain calm," he said coolly, removing his cap and guiding my hands back to the top of the dresser. He bent down and began to ease my panties from my hips with an agonizing slowness, kissing the small of my back and stroking the curve of my bottom as he went along. Brushing the backs of my thighs with his soft lips, he paused for a second before urging me to step out of my frilly underwear.

"I pride myself on being thorough, miss. Keep your hands where they are and take a step back, please."

Silently, I obeyed as he dropped to his knees and maneuvered himself between the dresser and my bare body, wasting no time in nibbling and kissing his way back up so that his face was level with my hips. With a tiny, wicked smirk, he teased me cruelly, stroking and caressing the tender skin of my legs until I found myself barely able to contain the urge to bark an order of my own...

"Do I have your permission for a full-body search?"

"Yes, officer, yes..." And I gasped as his darting tongue lightly flicked the hot spot at my core for what felt like a sweet eternity, then let out a long, low moan when his intimate kisses grew more bolder and deeper, his sweet lips blinding me with pure pleasure...

"Disturbing the peace is a misdemeanor, you know," he said, pulling away and looking up at me with a cocky half-smile.

"Sir," I answered, trying in vain to catch my breath. "Please complete the search..."

"Certainly, miss." He stood and pressed his lips to mine passionately; then he stepped away a little and walked behind me. I watched in the dresser mirror, hypnotized, as he began to undo his oversized utility belt. My beloved policeman's cool, twinkling silvery-green eyes never strayed from mine as he quickly stripped off his uniform. And when he was totally bare, he surprised me by donning one piece of his regalia--with a wink at me in the mirror, he reached for his cap and pulled it atop his dark hair once more.

"We'll resume now, miss." He nuzzled the nape of my neck and placed his hips firmly against mine, grinning a little as the firm evidence of his passion brushed against my rear. "Please remain calm, my love..."

Gazing into the mirror at the beautiful, familiar face under the big blue policeman's cap, I nearly melted with a keen mixture of affection and raw passion. I married the sexiest man in the whole wide world, I thought, just before the splendid feel of his touch on my tingling skin rendered thought impossible. His warm hands seemed to be everywhere at once--cupping my breasts, tickling my belly button, eagerly making their way lower, to the precise place where he knew his caress would make me lose all control...

"Tracy--" I began, then corrected myself. "Officer...please proceed...now..."

As I watched his reflection, Tracy closed his long-lashed eyes and let out a long moan as he moved his hips forward, filling my being with a fiery-sweet, indescribable sensation. Pulling the ribbon from my hair, he sighed and buried his lovely nose in my locks as they fell around my shoulders. He held me very tightly, his body moving in a forceful, commanding rhythm that took me by storm--all I could do was shiver in helpless bliss and hang on for dear life...

"Tracy..." Between the touch of his knowing fingers and the pounding beat of his hips, I felt delightfully trapped--and far too excited to last much longer. I closed my eyes, knowing full well that if I looked into the mirror, it would all be over for me...

I looked.

The sight of the two of us, locked together in a passionate embrace, was thrilling enough--but when Tracy opened his beautiful eyes and looked deeply, lovingly into mine, I felt as though my heart itself was about to burst with joy.

"Yes, my angel," he said in a throaty, low voice, "yes..."

I fought the urge to close my eyes as the sweet inevitable moment approached; and when the waves of raw ecstasy swept me, making me cry out with pleasure, I had the exquisite sensation of drowning in the silver-green sea of my husband's mesmerizing gaze...

"Lacey, darlin'...oh..."

He shuddered mightily as his passion reached its glorious peak, holding me tight and moaning softly, his eyes looking into mine all the while.

We stood before the mirror for a moment, catching our breath. Gently, Tracy wrapped his strong, tanned arms around me, and I leaned into his chest, feeling protected and safe and very much treasured. I turned to face him, and to my surprise I was still a little weak in the knees. With a playful smile, he swept me off my feet and carried me to our bed.

"Bless you, Mrs. Rattigan," he whispered, stretching out beside me.

"Bless me?" I reached up and ruffled the softness of his tousled hair, letting my hand rest along his cheek. "For what, pray tell?"

"Hmmm...for being a good sport and playing along." He turned his head and kissed my palm. "For believing in me. For being Mrs. Rattigan." An impish grin began to play about his lovely mouth, and I wondered what foolishness was coming next. "For keeping the pantry well stocked with Crispy Critters..."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," I laughed. "Honestly, Tracy..."

Then we looked at each other in the way that I imagined long-married couples must do, reading each other's quirky little minds in a flash.

"You know...a bowlful would hit the spot right about now, methinks," I said.

"Last one to the kitchen forfeits the plastic submarine at the bottom of the box," Tracy replied with a smile, leaping off the bed and taking my hand...

The District One episode was a smash success, of course. Tracy's very convincing performance as the crooked lieutenant garnered the show its highest ratings of the season, and it seemed to open new doors for him in the film world, as well--from then on, he was offered a much broader range of roles. But no one yet has been fortunate enough to see him in the role he was born to play--a suave, sophisticated, very sexy British gentleman with the heart of an absolute, utter screwball underneath his Savile Row suits, and perhaps a kiddie cereal crumb or two in the cuff of his trousers.

No one, that is, except me...the lucky--and very charmed--Mrs. Rattigan.

The End
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FanFic
The Richard Dawson Experience

Email: RichardDawsonFan@aol.com