Pierced
by MR
The whole matter, ultimately, was Ray’s fault. If I
hadn’t seen the picture of him from his college
days…or perhaps if I hadn’t leafed through the
magazine…or if he hadn’t said what he said in the park
that afternoon…
Ray is the reason I find myself where I am now; in the
back room of a tattoo/body-piercing emporium in
Detroit run by a very pleasant young man named
Crowbar. I’m fairly certain that’s not his real name;
even given parents penchant nowadays for naming their
children odd things. And he really is quite
personable, despite the purple Mohawk, the rather
lurid tattoos covering both arms, and enough metal in
his nose, eyebrows, lips and ears to make getting too
close to a magnet a very real hazard.
Only for Ray would I be sitting here, minus my shirt
and undershirt, contemplating the vast array of body
jewelry Crowbar has to offer.
“You’ll probably wanna keep it fairly simple to
start,” He says, his speech in no way impaired by the
two studs in his tongue. “Once the original heals,
you can always switch to something fancier.”
“Is that common?” I ask, eyeing the large sterilized
needle and disturbing-looking clamp device sitting on
the tray next to me dubiously.
“Sure. Most of my clients have three or four
different pieces. Something for every occasion, ya
know.” He chuckles and turns from the sink, where he’s
just finished scrubbing his hands. He dries them
under an air-dryer, and then slips on a pair of
surgical gloves. “So. You doin’ this for yourself,
or you got someone in mind?”
Absurdly, I find myself blushing. Crowbar has no idea
who I am or my status in the RCMP, no knowledge of my
relationship with Ray. I’m in Detroit only because
I’m a scheduled speaker at tomorrow’s joint
Canadian-American Conference on International Law
Enforcement and Cooperation. Ray, unable to get away
from work at the 27th, awaits me in Chicago.
We returned from our search for Franklin’s hand a
month ago. And despite the changes at the 27th (and
the Consulate as well), despite the absence of Ray
Vecchio and Stella Kowalski, despite my new position
as Inspector, I feel at home in a way I never did
before. And though we’ve been lovers for barely eight
weeks, Ray and I are forever. I know this as surely
as I know my own name.
“Partially for my partner,” I venture, blushing again
when Crowbar grins. “We…he saw a man in the park with
his nipple pierced and mentioned it looked hot. By
hot, of course, he meant…”
“Sexy?” Crowbar finishes, and grins even wider. I
nod. I was going to say erotic, but I suspect Ray
would find Crowbar’s description more to his liking.
“Okay, Benton,” he takes an ice cube out of the small
cup on the counter and hands it to me. “You hold this
on whichever nipple you want done. Gotta get the
little dude to perk up; otherwise it’s a real bitch
tryin’ to get the ring through. You decided what you
want yet?”
I’m flushing again; the ice against my right nipple is
incredibly cold, despite the heat of the day and the
lack of air-conditioning in Crowbar’s shop. I
distract myself by pointing at a small golden hoop in
the middle of the display. He picks it out carefully,
wiping it with an alcohol swab and sitting it on a
small square of gauze next to the needle. “Nice and
tight?”
I try not to dwell on what he just said and nod.
“Hey, relax, man.” He pats my arm. “Been doin’ this
for 10 years an’ I haven’t lost a customer yet.”
I smile, resolving that I am NOT going to look at the
needle. I’m just glad Diefenbacher isn’t here. He’d
no doubt have a great day to say about the
irrationality of fools in love.
I call Ray from the hotel that evening. He answers
on the third ring. “Kowalski.”
“Hello, Ray.”
“Hey, Benton-buddy.” I can hear the smile in his
voice. “How’s the international cooperative going?”
“It’s cooperation, Ray, and it’s going quite well.
Though I’m rather nervous about giving my presentation
tomorrow; most of the speakers thus far have been
excellent.”
“Piece a cake. I’ve spent three years listening to
you talking and I’m still not bored. Except by Inuit
stories.” His voice drops slightly. “Miss you, Ben.”
I feel my throat tighten. “And I you.”
“Bet ya do. At least I got Dief to sleep with.”
I give an appropriately heart-broken sigh. “I’m that
easily replaced, am I?”
“You kidding? Furball here hogs the blankets. And I
think he’s got fleas.” I hear a yip in the
background. “Yeah I’m talking about you. You wanna
make something out of it?” He’s answered by a
grumble. “At least I didn’t spend the whole night
scratching myself.”
“Ray, you’re talking to Dief.”
“I know that, ya freak. Comes from being around you
too long. I’m lonely. This’s the first time since we
got back from the Great White North we’ve been
separated for longer than eight hours. Think maybe
I’m addicted to you.”
“No moreso than I am to you, Ray. But it’s only two
more days.”
“Still sucks.” I smile at the petulance in his voice;
he sounds like a small child deprived of his favorite
blanket. “8:30 Saturday morning, right?”
“Correct. And Ray?”
“Yeah?”
“I have a surprise for you when I get home.”
The remaining two days of the conference are
nerve-wracking. Despite the acclaim that greets my
presentation (I end up going nearly a half-hour over
my allotted time due to questions from the audience),
I’m terribly conscious of the unfamiliar presence on
the right side of my chest. Crowbar assured me that
such piercings do just fine when washed carefully
several times a day with plain soap and water. I do,
however, find it necessary to put a small gauze pad
over it when I’m in uniform, as the amount of starch
required to look presentable tends the skin. At
night, I sleep naked and dream of Ray’s reaction.
It was the picture of Ray in college that started me
down this slippery slope. We’d already agreed before
returning to Chicago that I would move in with him.
To have not done so was inconceivable. We just spent
the last six months living in each other’s hip pocket.
Neither of us could be comfortable without the other
within touching distance.
Ray had sublet his apartment while we were gone and we
had to spend a few days in a hotel while the leasee
found somewhere else to live. His landlady was
surprisingly nonchalant about him having acquired a
roommate and only increased the rent by $150 a month.
Ray said from her standpoint, having two cops living
in the building probably looked like a selling point.
It was while we were moving my stuff in, going through
drawers and cupboards and closets in search of space,
that he found the photo album.
“I thought Stell took this when she left.” He’d
immediately abandoning our cleaning to sit on the
floor and leaf through it. I joined him, thinking how
terribly young he looked in most of the photos,
listening as he struggled to recall names and told me
the story related to each picture.
“Halloween 1979.” I found myself face-to-face with a
Ray Kowalski dressed entirely in denim and black
leather-he bore an unsettling resemblance to James
Dean, except for the bleached-blond hair. Stella was
wearing some sort of off-the-shoulder black top and
mini-skirt apparently kept in place by gravity and had
on an orange fright wig. “We were punks.”
“Why would you want to dress up as juvenile
delinquents?”
He snorted. “Not those kind of punks, ya thick-headed
Mountie. Punk music. Iggy and the Stooges. Lou
Reed. The New York Dolls”
Something about the picture caught my eye and I leaned
closer. “Ray, are you wearing an earring?”
“Yep.”
“You had your ear pieced?”
“Had the whole counterculture rebellion thing going
big-time. And Stella thought it looked sexy. They
made me take it out when I started the Academy.
Seemed such a fucking big deal, like I was selling out
or something.”
“I find you perfectly acceptable without it.” I
leaned forward and kissed the ear closest to me.
“The hole’s still open, ya know.” He looked at me and
grinned. “I’ve worn an earring couple times when I
was undercover. Wore it all the time when I was in
Vice. It helped the mystique.”
I was smiling. “You had a mystique?”
“Still do. Don’t try’n tell me it wasn’t the “Mad,
Bad and Dangerous to Know” Kowalski charm that
suckered you in from the start.”
“Actually, Ray, I don’t recall that I was suckered in
from the start.”
“You talk too much, Frase.” And he’d silenced me with
a kiss.
The magazine photo and the man in the park occurred on
the same day. Things at the Consulate had gotten off
on the wrong foot (not for the first time, I found
myself missing Turnbull), and by the time I managed to
get away for lunch, Ray had evidently been waiting for
some time, as he was leafing through a magazine.
“Hey.” He grinned at me when I opened the car door.
“Though I was gonna have to send in the cavalry to
rescue you.”
“They would not have been unappreciated, Ray.” I let
Dief into the back seat, then slid in and fastened my
seatbelt. “Surely Turnbull and I were never that…”
“Young?” I glared at him. “Fraser, Davies and
Carpenter are barely old enough to cross the street
without their mommies.”
“By the time I was there age, Ray, I’d already been
posted three times.”
“Yeah, as far away from the Mothership as they could
send you.” He reached over and squeezed my hand.
“Cut’em some slack, huh?”
He was right of course. Simply because I’d been held
to impossibly high standards by the RCMP and my father
(and myself) was no excuse to expect the same of my
subordinates. “Thank you, Ray.”
He just grinned wider and started the car, pulling
smoothly into traffic.
I picked up the magazine. “The International Male
Catalog?”
“Got some clothes in there you’d look good in. Try
page 14.”
I turned to page 14 and found myself confronted with a
somewhat overdeveloped young man wearing obscenely
tight black underwear. “Sizzling Swimwear?” I read
the caption under the picture. “I rather suspect
swimwear of that sort would get him kicked off most
public beaches, Ray. And he doesn’t look anything
like me. He’s blond. He also has a ring in his left
nipple.” I glanced at Ray. “You’d prefer a blond
with a nipple ring?”
He cackled. “I’d prefer you in the swimwear. The
nipple ring’s optional.”
“Unfortunately Ray, RCMP regulations forbid such
things. I can’t get a tattoo, either.”
“Good thing I got mine while I was still in high
school.” He stopped for a light. “So who has dibs on
your body? Me or the RCMP?”
I regarded him seriously. “Well the RCMP had it
first, but I much prefer your style of management.”
We ended up getting sandwiches from Pulaski’s Deli and
eating them in the park. It was one of those warm,
early-Spring days that compel people to leave their
houses, like hibernating animals poking their noses
out of the burrow after a long, cold winter.
Dief was hiding under the bench we sat on, in retreat
from the inordinate number of small children who
wanted to ‘pet the nice doggy.’
Ray gave him a piece of his sandwich. “Poor guy. The
majestic Arctic half-wolf forced to ground.”
“It’s his own fault.” I countered. “If he’s going to
beg shamelessly, he’d best be aware there are
repercussions.” There was a woof from below. “No, she
was ‘not’ offering to let you lick her lollipop. So
you needn’t complain about her crying. Anyway, you’re
supposed to be deaf.”
“Maybe he picks up sympathetic vibrations?” Ray
offered through a mouthful of pastrami on rye.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to deal with the consequences
of his own greediness.” I finished my sandwich and
crumpled the wrapper into a neat ball.
“Five bucks says you can’t make it.”
I eyed the trashcan across the sidewalk and raised my
hand.
“He shoots. He scores. The crowd goes wild!” The
wrapper bounced off the side of a man jogging along
the path.
I was on my feet immediately. “I’m terribly sorry,
sir.”
“No big deal.” Despite having stopped, he continued
to jog in place. “Where’d you get the sandwiches?”
“Pulaski’s Deli.”
“Sounds good.” He jogged off
I sat back down. “Isn’t it a little early in the
season to be jogging wearing nothing but shorts and
sneakers?”
“Hey, if you’ve got it.” Ray raised an eyebrow at my
look. “Notice the nipple ring?”
“Ray, are you trying to tell me something?”
“Frase, the RCMP doesn’t own your body, okay? They’re
just leasing it.” He grinned. “And I think they’re
hot.”
“Then why don’t you get one?” I challenged.
“Tried to. Hurt like a sonofabitch and they couldn’t
get the ring in. Guy doin’ it said my tits were too
small. You, on the other hand, are built just right.”
I closed my eyes, knowing I’d have to spend the
remainder of the day with ‘that’ particular imagine
stuck in my head. “Stanley Raymond Kowalski, you are
an evil, evil human being.”
“And you’re just the man to appreciate me,” he’d
replied, bumping his shoulder against mine. “Let’s
get you back to the Consulate before you spontaneously
combust.”
By the time the plane landed in Chicago Saturday
morning, I’d become fairly well acclimated to my new
acquisition. The swelling was completely gone, and
truth to tell, I was eager to see Ray’s reaction to
what I ‘d come to view as my own rebellion against
authority.
I was also, to my dismay, what Ray once referred to as
‘locked and loaded.’ A natural enough reaction from a
body that had, over a lifetime, acclimated itself to
famine and now suddenly found itself presented with a
daily banquet. Obviously, my libido wasn’t as easily
distracted at is had been pre-Ray.
It wasn’t helped any by the glimpse of Ray waiting at
the end of the corridor, wearing faded jeans and a
light blue T-shirt that hugged his lean body. He had
on his mirrored sunglasses, his recently lightened
hair standing up in spikes that looked stiff as
porcupine quills, but which I knew from first-hand
experience would be incredibly soft.
I don’t know what induced me to wear my serge on the
return trip, but not for the first time I was glad for
the length of the tunic and its ability to hide a
multitude of sins.
“Ray.” I stopped a foot or so away, unable to keep
back the goofy smile I knew was on my face.
“Frase.” He grinned in return, then stepped forward
and pulled me into a full-body hug. “Hey,” he
whispered in my ear, “is that an otter in your pocket,
or are you just glad to see me?”
“Ray!”
He broke loose and stepped back, giving me the once
over. “What say we take this party somewhere more
private?”
I was blushing fiercely, but unable to get the stupid
smile off my face. “I think that would be most
fortuitous, Ray.”
“Ooh, $40 words.” He took my pack and turned, heading
for baggage claim and (I might add) providing me with
a most inspirational view.
“Where’s Dief?” I loosened my collar, mildly appalled
at my lack of control.
“At home sulking. I tried to explain why they don’t
let wolves in the terminal, but he wasn’t interested
in hearing it.”
It takes only a few minutes to get my luggage (one of
the advantages of traveling light), and then I’m
following Ray through the crowded parking lot to where
the GTO waits. He loads my suitcase and pack into the
trunk, unlocks the door, and I slid into the
passenger’s seat with an audible sigh.”
“You okay?”
I nod. “I just hadn’t realized how much I missed
home.”
He grins and backs the car out. “So. What’s this
‘surprise’ you were telling me about?”
“Well if I told you what it was, Ray, it wouldn’t be a
surprise anymore.”
His forehead furrows and he considers this a moment.
“Something personal?”
“You might say that.”
“Okay.” We pull up at a stoplight, his finger
drumming nervously on the steering wheel. “But it’s a
good surprise, right?”
“I like to think so.”
We could go on like this all day, and apparently Ray
knows it. Consequently, we spend the remainder of the
drive to the apartment discussing what occurred on
both ends during my three-day absence.
I later realize Ray caved in far too easily. Or
perhaps all the blood in my brain really has gone
south. We barely make it into the apartment and close
the door behind us before Ray drops my bags on the
floor, turns, and pushes me up against the kitchen
wall, kissing me until I’m dizzy.
We finally break apart, gasping for breath. “Rule #1,
Ben. Never tease a horny Kowalski.”
“I’ll remember that.” I latch onto his jacket and
pull him back in for another kiss. Thankfully, Ray
enjoys kissing as much as I do. We spent so much time
outdoors during our adventure, under weather
conditions that made doing anything ‘besides’ kissing
and what Ray laughingly referred to as ‘groping each
other like a couple a teenagers in the back seat’ the
only realistic outlet for our mutual desire, we’d both
developed what almost amounted to a kissing fetish by
the time we came back to civilization.
Our sexual horizons have since broadened, but kissing
remains one of our favorite activities.
By unspoken agreement, we start working on each
other’s clothes. Ray’s become as adept at getting the
uniform off as me, but I’m wearing more layers, so
he’s already shirtless and barefoot while I’m still in
my Henley.
He shucks the Henley, and my undershirt, up together,
and I raise my arms to accommodate him. “So this
surprise…Holy shit!” His eyes widen, and I can’t help
smiling foolishly. He reaches out a finger to touch
the ring. “Sonofabitch. You actually did it.”
I nod, blushing, which makes him laugh. “I considered
what you said about the RCMP having my body on loan
and decided you were right.”
“You actually got it pierced cause I wanted you to?”
“Well, that and I felt I was a bit overdue for my
teenage rebellion.”
“Greatness.” His voice is hushed, almost reverential.
He runs a fingertip experimentally along the edge of
the metal loop, and I find myself shivering. “Still
kinda sensitive?”
“A little. I have to keep it covered when I’m in
uniform.”
“Regulations?”
“No, the starch irritates it.”
That makes him laugh again, and then he abruptly
sobers. “Did you know Stella had one?”
“A nipple ring?” He nods. “Forgive me for saying so,
but that seems somewhat at odds with the image she
presented.”
“She had it done in college, same time I got my ear
pierced. Then she got on the Law School fast rack and
decided it was ‘childish. She wanted me to have laser
surgery and get my tat removed. Said it gave people
the wrong impression.”
I pull him closer to luxuriate in our combined warmth.
Despite the length of time we’ve known each other,
I’m only gradually coming to understand the
thoroughness with which Stella Kowalski, unwittingly
or no, undermined Ray’s self-esteem in the name of
‘turning him into a better person.’
“Looks better on you than it did on her.” His voice
tickles my ear. I give an audible groan, which makes
him laugh. “Bed. Now.”
I still have my boots to unlace (Ray and I having
discovered, via trial and error, that it is impossible
to remove the uniform trousers while wearing the
boots), and I’m very aware of how naked Ray is,
sitting in the middle of our bed with a slight smile
on his lips as he watches me. The simple weight of
his gaze is enough to undo me, and I briefly consider
getting out my pocketknife and slicing the laces
apart.
“You’re enjoying yourself far too much.” I say.
The smile turns into a smirk. “You’re not the one
who’s spent the last three days sleeping with a mangy
half-wolf.” An aggrieved bark comes from the other
side of the bedroom door. “You and what army?”
The second boot comes off, and I manage to get my
trousers and underwear down in one move. “You gave
him a flea bath?” I get out before he grabs me and
pulls me onto the bed.
“Discussion later,” he manages, before zeroing in on
my mouth again; an excellent idea if ever I heard one.
There is no time for finesse, no time for long,
drawn-out seduction. Three days apart has left us
both stretched to the limit. Like the first time,
this initial bout will be fast and rough and noisy.
And neither of us would have it otherwise; we need to
reconnect physically ‘now,’ to remember how and why we
came together, to remind each other that the last six
months wasn’t all a pleasant dream.
Here and now, it is enough that we are together, our
bodies moving as one, Ray whispering obscenities in my
ear, describing in obsessive detail what it means to
him that I actually got my nipple pierced solely
because he asked me to. Ray is not a man who remains
silent during sex; he never hesitates to tell me what
he wants, how he wants it, where he wants it…a
seemingly endless erotic litany that counterbalances
my own tendency towards saying no more than is
necessary. Ray claims he’ll make a screamer out of me
yet, and I don’t for one moment doubt he will. Ray
could make a statue scream if he put his mind to it.
Afterwards, we lie in a boneless heap. I really
should move myself off him, but can’t seem to summon
the necessary energy to do so. And it’s not as if
he’s complaining.
“Ben?”
“Hmm?”
“You ever stop to think what a turn-on it’s gonna be
to have that ring and nobody knows it but you and me?”
The question is typically Ray, seeing erotic
potential in something as mundane as a secret.
“Does this mean you’re going to be making obscene
phone calls from the Precinct house again?”
“Depends. Do you want me to?”
I consider it. “Wait a week until I get back into the
swing of things. Lord alone knows what Davies and
Carpenter have gotten into while I was gone.”
“I told you to hire a baby-sitter.” One fingertip is
running slowly along the edge of the gold hoop; it’s
an extremely odd sensation, almost like a mild
electric shock, but in no way unpleasant.” Like that,
huh?”
My body seems intent on betraying me today. “I’d tell
you no, but you’d know I was lying.”
He laughs and arches up against me, letting me feel
the evidence of his arousal as well. Both of us are
still too dazed to seriously think about doing
anything more strenuous than kissing, but the edge is
gone now, which means the next time will last longer.
“This’ what I missed the most while you were gone.”
Ray’s voice is soft and a bit drowsy. He doesn’t have
to say what ‘this’ is; I know it’s the same thing I
missed lying alone in the hotel room at night. Not
just the sex, but the being together.
When Ray finally drifts off, his fingertip is still
pressed against the edge of the ring. I put my hand
over it and hold it there, then let myself follow him
into the land of dreams.
FIN
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