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It was one of those perfect afternoons; not too hot, not too bright, but perfect for getting a good look at skin.
There were a ton of people wandering around, driving around, just filling the streets. There were buskers and vendors, and it looked like most of Victoria had turned out to celebrate. The shows wouldn't start for a bit, but there was lots to do, and Sam was doing his level best to see as much as he could.
He'd eaten hotdogs, nearly drowned himself in Coke and Sprite, and didn't he just love companies that ran promotions with free drinks? By next year, he'd be hanging out in the beer tents, but for now it was pop and it would have to do.
Sam watched a couple of guys playing with Devil Sticks and admired their technique, but he got bored fairly soon and began to walk again. There were flashing lights up ahead, and it was probably some damn safety awareness thing the cops were running, but there wasn't anything wrong with cop watching. Unless they didn't like it, but he could run pretty fast.
He turned the corner and grinned. It wasn't cops and it wasn't boring. It really was a perfect day in Sam's world, and he sauntered a little closer, looking for a bench to sit on. The fire department had the pumper trucks out, and the ladders were up, the entire rig set to spray downward. A charity car wash, which was nice, but the very best part was that the firemen were in uniform. Black uniforms with badges and patches, and Sam was sure that there was nothing on earth finer than fireman butt in those uniforms.
He found a place to sit and set to watching, not bothering to be subtle. They were far too busy to notice him, and besides, the amount of women standingaround gawking was a good cover. He drank water from a bottle and watched, soaking up the sun and the smell of Canada Day.
"Good God," a woman off to the right breathed, and Sam snickered. But then a car moved off and a mountain stood up, and Sam figured the woman was right. God was good, indeed.
The man had to be six and a half feet tall if he was an inch, and built like a brick shithouse. Short blond hair and a wide smile just closed the deal. And damned if that uniform wasn't absolutely soaked, the black material just clinging to the big body.
Sam sat up a little, and the semi he'd been sporting for the last while made an effort to become a problem. He moved his legs and swung around on the bench, giving himself a little comfort, and just stared. The man was amazing, even if he was old. Had to be damn near thirty, Sam figured, but Christ. He was something to look at, store up pictures of for later.