Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police stepped into a dark chamber inside the Canadian Consulate. Walking beside him in the darkness was his boss, Margaret. She was a tall, attractive brunette in her mid-thirties. Fraser and her had been working together for awhile. As time went by, their working relationship took a turn for the romantic. It had been awkward at first. He was an old-fashioned guy and she was his boss, after all. But they didn't let that stop them. Tonight was the night they had been secretly hoping and waiting for.
Fraser followed Margaret as she led him into her chambers. She sat him down on the bed, after lighting a candle. He looked at Margaret Thatcher as she undressed. She had a nice body. Firm body at that. Nice, pale pink skin, long black hair and pale blue eyes. Sharp, angular features. Full lips. Nice, round butt and firm tits. Margaret looked at Fraser. Tonight was their special night. They had worked together for years. He was the quiet, decent, often enigmatic man from the Great North. She was a canadian city girl transplanted to Chicago by the Canadian government. She had a crush on Fraser for years and she suspected that he knew but if he did, he did not act on it. Oh, well. Tonight he was hers.
Benton looked at the beautiful young woman who stood before him. She was very attractive. And the fact that she was his boss did nothing to deter from that.