It was an accident. It was one hundred percent an accident. Ray had forgotten to sign his case report again, and Frannie knew that if Ray didn't sign it before 8 AM when it was handed off to the prosecutor, Harding would yell and his blood pressure would go up and once he was alone in his office when he thought no one would see, he'd massage his left arm, which always worried Frannie. So really it was Ray's own fault. Ray's and the Lieutenant's.

She has a key to Ray's apartment from when she got his mail while he and Fraser had gone up to find Frankie's arm, which always made Frannie giggle, since her cousin Frankie's right hand had gotten chopped off in that accident with the meat cleaver -- which, if he hadn't been trying to strut around like he was made, it never would have happened, God rest his mother's soul. Frannie figured Ray wouldn't be home yet -- 7 PM on a Thursday night? He and Fraser would be at Mama Zita's, eating pasta and talking about the day's cases, since Fraser didn't come to the station house Thursdays and Tuesdays.

Oh, Fraser. Fraser Fraser Fraser. Benton. Frannie sighs every time she says his name in her head, because who wouldn't? Fraser Fraser Fraser -- the perfect man. One day he'd realize that they were perfect for each other. She was wild and unpredictable, and he was always prepared for anything. If she ever needed to be rescued, she'd want Fraser on the case. And, sure, Ray, but not so much Ray, since he was a little crazy. Especially now, after being away looking for Frankie's arm. Somebody like Fraser, he could handle the ice and snow, but Ray? Too skinny, him, for that, by more than half, Frannie figured. Plus what with his ex-wife and Frannie's own brother running away together to Florida, well.

Well.

So it was an accident. Frannie hadn't meant to just -- walk in. No, she'd meant to walk in, but she hadn't meant to see -- that.

And now, lying in her bed and staring at the ceiling, she replays what had happened: She'd knocked, and there'd been no answer, so she unlocked the door and walked in, and saw Ray. And Fraser. On the couch. No -- Ray on the couch, Fraser on the floor. And Frannie was a nice girl, so she'd never gone that far with a boy until at least their fourth or fifth date, because boys didn't respect the girls who were easy.

Ray had been talking -- "Suck my cock, Fraser," he'd said, and Frannie blushes just remembering. Her face had been on fire in Ray's apartment, flaming red, hot to the touch. Which she knew because she'd put a hand to her face, over her mouth.

"Suck it, come on, open your mouth, you like it, come on, come on, cmon cmon cmon --"

His head had fallen back, his mouth open, his throat working, gasping, his hands in Fraser's hair, twisting, and pulling. Frannie's hand went to her own hair, and she backed out of the room, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, trying to block out the image.

She can't get it out of her head. The whole drive home, through a cup of strong espresso with her mother and her shower -- Ray's head, falling back, his mouth open, Fraser's hair curling over his fingers, Ray's gritty voice -- cmon cmon cmmmmoooon --

She still has the case report. She still has the scent of Mama Vita's takeout in her nose, and she's worried that the next time she smells garlic she might be overwhelmed the way she is now.

Ray's head, falling back. Ray's head, falling back.

She gives up trying to fight it, and slides two fingers down her body, over the slight bump of her belly, under her pajama pants, the nice red satin ones that look sexy and are so comfortable, and -- she's wet, so wet, and she dips her fingers inside herself to spread the moisture around, starts to circle her clit lightly, then faster and harder, and faster and faster, and her head falls back on the pillow. She brings her other hand up to rub her nipples through the satiny fabric, closes her eyes.

Ray's head, falling back --

Fraser's mouth, stretched wide --

A slurping noise, Fraser's eyes tearing, Ray's fingers twisting --

Frannie gasps for air, and comes quietly. She rubs herself gently until she can breathe normally again, and then she pulls the covers up to her chin and shivers. Between her legs she's slick and sticky; she squeezes them together and turns on to her side.

Ray can sign the case report in the morning; she'll tell Harding it was her fault.