Rated M for Mature Content. Originally written for the Geekfiction Smutathon '07 on Live Journal. Content has been toned down for posting on I am indebted to Elle for all the time and energy she so freely gave to me, especially in the last week, as this story finally came together.
House of Love
1. Lessons
(The Living Room)
"Teach me." Her hand slid over his cheek and around to the back of his neck; she'd tried asking, begging, and even bartering to no avail, but there was still one more method of persuasion left in her bag of tricks. "I know you know how." She brushed her lips against the skin just under his ear.
He inhaled the sweet scent of her skin as she wrapped her body around him. "Wouldn't you rather go get some dinner and back to your apartment?" He smiled a bit as he realized that after tonight there would be no more 'your place or mine'; just one place they both called home. "There are other ways to celebrate." He couldn't resist placing a few delicate kisses along her jaw line.
"This is our only chance," she said breaking away from the embrace and spreading her arms wide. "We have this big beautiful living room all to ourselves. Next time we're here it will be full of boxes."
"It's been years." He sighed as he considered her point; both of their places were completely packed, and their furniture was scheduled to be moved early the next morning.
"I'm sure I won't know the difference." She was back in his arms again, her fingers stroking his beard.
"Are you going to provide the music?" He just meant to tease her, but something flickered in her eyes, only to disappear as quickly as it appeared. "What?"
"Nothing." She tried to turn away from him, but he caught her hand and held it tightly in his own.
"Sara?" He'd seen that look before, and had never pressed her, but there was something about this time that felt different to him; she might finally be ready to share a piece of herself with him.
"Just a memory. It's not important." They came to her sometimes, flashes of a life so foreign she often questioned if they were really hers.
"To me it is." He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly.
Looking into his eyes, she was forced to wonder what part of her was so desperate to hide that she would refuse to share this with him. "Close to You." She let out a breath, shaking her head a little as if to clear it. "She was crazy for the Carpenters. She played that song until she wore out the record."
He stood very still waiting for her to continue; he'd ached to ask her but aside from the circumstances surrounding her father's death, Sara rarely mentioned her mother and he'd waited a long time for this tiny glimpse of her childhood.
"She'd take my hand and spin me around that room. We'd laugh so hard we couldn't breathe." Sara nearly smiled, and for the first time in a long time she felt the weight of her past begin to ease.
He brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers, understanding the rare trust she had just placed in him. "I think I owe you a dance lesson."
She smiled weakly, a little ashamed that she'd feared an interrogation from him when he'd given her only acceptance. Nodding slowly, she let him lead her to the middle of the room.
"Let's start with the box step," he said, "Put your left hand on my right shoulder." He guided her hands gently into place, as he slipped an arm around her waist. "Now just watch my feet. When I step forward, you step back."
She bent her head, watching as he moved them through the simple pattern a few times. She was a quick study, and as soon as he realized she had the hang of it, he pressed his cheek to the top of her head, his voice hoarse in her ear, "Why do stars fall down from the sky, every time you walk by, just like me, they long to be close to you."
Holding tightly to this precious moment, Sara felt a hundred times lighter as a memory finally freed itself from her past, but above all else, she saw his love for her in a whole new way. She swallowed hard. "You amaze me," she said quietly.
"Likewise." His thumb traced the shape of her lips, before he brought his mouth down to meet hers. He groaned as her tongue parted his lips, and her arms wound around his neck. He was tangled up in her in the deepest of ways and from that first touch he was lost.
The intensity of his kiss pulled at her very center, and she pressed her hand to the back of his neck, unable to get close enough to him. She pushed him back against the nearest wall as her hands began to roam over his chest.
He pulled at her shirt, sliding his hands beneath the fabric and across the warm skin of her stomach. He slid his hands up and over her breasts, deftly pushing the fabric up and over her head. Wrapping his arms around her, he rid her of her bra then he flipped her around so her back was to the wall.
He spent a long moment just looking at her, as if somehow mapping the pleasure he was about to give her. His eyes traveled over the curve of her cheek, around the shell of her ear, down the length of her throat, resting for a moment on the scattering of freckles that danced across her shoulders.
He had to touch her then, using his fingers to delicately trace the shape of her ribs, letting the back of his hand brush the underside of her breasts. She moaned a little as his thumb brushed across her nipples, and he slid his palms over them, cupping their weight as his fingers tugged at the tight peaks.
She adored his hands as they played across her skin, teasing her with his touch. A shiver traveled up her spine as she felt a hand drift to open the button on her pants and lower the zipper. His warm hand slid inside and his fingers stroked her lightly over the lace of her thong.
"Let me do this for you." His voice was a whisper in her ear as he moved her hands so they were resting on his shoulders.
"Yes." It was a hiss of breath hot against his cheek, as her hips circled against pressure of his thumb over her center. "More." His touch was heaven; she was sure of it as pleasure spiraled through her entire body.
He moved the lace aside, groaning as his finger dipped into her. She was like the finest silk, smooth and sleek against his touch, and the feel of her nearly drove him over the edge.
She gasped as his finger enter her slowly, clutching at his shoulders, desperate to get closer to him. She rocked against him, crying out her pleasure as he added a second finger. The current of his touch traveled through her, igniting a slow burn that edged her toward release.
He looked down at her, soaking in every detail of her as he quickened the movement of his thumb over her clit. A pale pink flush rose in her cheeks as his name fell from her lips and he felt her tighten around his fingers. Sara's eyelids fluttered as she slid away on a wave of bliss.
He cradled her in his arms, as they collapsed onto the floor. She sighed softly at the contentment that stole through her. To say she loved him seemed wholly inadequate way to describe how deeply embedded he was in her soul. She looked up at him, following his gaze, knowing he saw so much more than an empty room; while only plaster, paint and bricks, this house held their future within its walls.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "I am going to build you a house of love," he said softly as his finger drifted through her hair, "A place where you will always be home."
"Promise?" Her fingers tangled with his, and she brought them to her lips, kissing each one in turn.
He nodded full of the knowledge that he held the rest of his life within the circle of his arms.
2. Home
(The Entryway)
Sara sneezed.
It wasn't for the first time either. She was knee deep in open boxes, trying to figure out which of Grissom's collections would fit on the built in shelves in the living room, and which would be relegated to their home office. As she sifted through the books, papers and miscellaneous objects, she couldn't help but smile; alone these things seemed meaningless, but together they formed a beautiful collage of his life.
All of her belongings, few that there were, had been unpacked for a week, except for the stack of framed prints leaning against the living room wall. He had cryptically asked her to wait before hanging anything on the walls. She'd merely shrugged at the request, knowing with Grissom only time would really tell.
She was just feeling the victory of an empty box when she heard the front door swing open. "I'm starving," she called out, rising to her feet as she brushed her hands off on the back of her thighs.
"I have lunch." The reply was muffled though, as he angled a large, flat cardboard box through the door. "This isn't it."
She laughed a little, moving to help him with the box. "Please tell me this is the last one?"
He propped it against the wall as he turned to close the door. "This is actually for you." He bent to kiss her cheek, using his thumb to wipe smudge of dirt off her forehead.
"Can I open it now?" She dropped to her knees on the floor of the entry way, running her fingers along the edges of the box.
He nodded, crouching down beside her, and helping to lay the box flat on the floor.
Sara pulled the tabs on the side of the box, and flipped the lid up. She gently pushed aside the packing material, blinking a few times to make sure she wasn't seeing things. She bit down on her lower lip, as she felt the prick of tears in the corners of her eyes. Grissom wasn't usually one for giving gifts; special occasions seemed to slide by without him even noticing, but when he found something worthy of giving, his thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze her.
He watched her for a moment, thinking he'd never seen her quite so still. He rubbed his hand slowly up her back and over her shoulder, brushing her hair back from her face, "Sara?"
"Home." She said the word softly, reverently, as if trying it out for the first time. Reaching out, she curled her fingers around the framed picture, feeling its solid weight as she pulled it into her lap. Her eyes darted around quickly as she drank in each detail. The line drawing of their new house was as beautiful as it was exact, the details delicately tinted with watercolors imbuing it with an almost fairytale like glow. Sara ran her finger over the word engraved at the bottom of the frame. Home.
She turned to him, her eyes filled with a sense of wonder he'd never seen before even as tears threatened to spill over her cheeks. "It's been a long time since I've had a place that felt like home," she said quietly. They'd decided to buy a house together for all the right reasons, but it had never occurred to her what they were building together until she held a picture of it in her hands.
"We're going to fill this place with memories." He wanted her to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was hers forever, and as he watched her holding the picture in her lap, he knew he'd made her believe a promise words never could.
"Give my first one now?" She rose to her feet, the picture held tightly in her hands, her eyes roaming the walls for the perfect spot.
"I'll get my tool box." When he returned a few minutes later, carrying the dented blue box, she had a ruler in hand and was busy marking her chosen spot.
"If we hang it here, we'll see it every time we come in the front door." She stepped back, admiring the result of her careful calculations.
Grissom flipped the top of the box open, picking out a couple of nails and hammer. Using Sara's marks as a guide, he pounded the nail into the wall, stepping back so she could slide the picture onto the hook.
"It's just perfect." Sara reached for his hand, holding it tightly in her own as they studied the picture on the wall. She wished she could tell him what this meant to her, only she had no idea how to form the words, but like so many things that passed between them, she knew he understood her in ways no one else ever had.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her close, and wanting nothing more that to spend the rest of his life making her happy.
She looked up at him, cradling his face between her hands. "Let me make you a memory?"
He felt his breath catch in his throat at the husky sound of her voice, at once sweet and seductive. He touched his lips to hers lightly, kissing her again and again, until he felt Sara's hands press firmly against his chest.
She stepped back to pull two pillows out of a nearby box. Tossing them on the floor, she sat down, beckoning him to her with the crook of a finger. He knelt beside her, and she took his hand, pulling him down along side of her.
He ran his hands over the length of her body, tracing each dip and curve, moving along her spine and drifting over her hips before coming up to cup her breasts. He marveled at the way her body responded to his, groaning as he felt her arch into his touch. His fingers traced a beloved path of freckles across her chest, moving to slide the spaghetti strap of her tank top off first one shoulder, and then the other.
"I love you." She said, drawing his eyes up to hers, wanting to feel the way her words touched him; she wasn't disappointed. In the beginning she thought it would be his words that would mean the most to her, but when words failed him, his eyes never did.
He carefully kissed his way down her throat, across the ridge of her collarbone, and finally over the swell of her breasts. He heard a sharp intake of breath as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue, before tugging it gently between his teeth.
She gasped as he released her, moving his attention to her other breast. Sara threaded her fingers through his hair, she could already feel the ache for his touch building between her legs, and her hips hungrily sought out the hard length of him. She pressed into him, moaning at the wave pleasure that cascaded from the touch.
He rolled onto his back, pulling her more fully on top him. She sat back on his thighs, running her hands over his chest, then moving to unbutton his shirt. She popped each button slowly, kissing each patch of newly exposed flesh as the fabric fell away.
Licking a path around his navel, she eased the button of his jeans apart, drawing a low moan from his lips. His hips bucked as her cool hand circled the hot flesh of his erection, finally releasing it from the confines of his pants, and trapping in the delicious grasp of her hand as she stroked the length of him.
He was captivated as he watched her descend upon him, running her tongue along the underside of him, then up and around the tip before gently enveloping him. She had magic powers, he was sure of it. The cold tile underneath him had somehow disappeared, and he was sure he was floating by the simple touch of her. He closed his eyes against the nearly overwhelming sensations around him, abandoning himself to the feel of her mouth.
She could practically feel him vibrating under her touch; the constant purr of pleasure her tongue elicited from him deepened her need, and she slid a finger over herself. In the beginning she was sure it would burn off, this white hot desire she felt every time he touched her, but it showed no signs of waning.
"Sara." Her name was strangled by desire and barely audible as if fell from his lips. He reached down, pulling her up to him, pressing his mouth to hers with a passion that fed her.
She shifted forward, placing her hands on either side of him, as he guided himself into her. And with one smooth movement, he was inside of her, and she was taking him deeper and deeper, until he was disappearing inside of her. She heard her name fall from his lips, and came down on him one last time before surrendering to the surge of his orgasm inside of her.
He held her tightly to his chest as her arms encircled him. Contentment drifted through him, as he stroked the top of her head. At first he'd wanted nothing more than to return the sense of belonging that he'd felt with her from the first minute she'd put her arms around him. Instead he found it multiplied; he'd never known a safer place then within the warmth of Sara's embrace.
She smiled at him, it was a rare smile for sure, filled with the knowledge that in a life that had only taught her to let go, she finally had something she wanted to hold on to.
3. Insight
(The Office)
Cello Concerto in C.
She let the music wash over her as she stood just inside the door; Haydn was thinking music, and she couldn't help but wonder what she was about to distract him from.
Her bare feet were silent and her dress barely whispered around her legs as she crossed the room. She sat down in one of the box chairs across from his desk and waited, watching as long strings of words spilled from the tip of his pen, filling the pages of the leather bound notebook he was writing in.
She smiled a little as she waited for him to finish; she'd always loved watching him work, whether it was with the tiniest pieces of evidence or the ingredients required to create the perfect omelet. His intensity was intoxicating, and she breathed it in as she relaxed back into the chair.
He'd sensed her presence the moment she'd slipped through the open door; the sweet scent of her freshly showered skin assaulted him, tempting him away from his work but he let the warm feeling of anticipation build slowly in his stomach until he could stand it no more. Smiling to himself, he set down his pen and let his eyes drift over her, "How was your shower?"
"Lonely." Her fingers danced along the pinstriped upholstery of the chair as she crossed her legs in a move designed specifically to get his attention.
His eyes traveled up the bare length of her leg, and he felt a sudden pulse of arousal. He sat back in his chair, taking off his glasses and setting them on the blotter in front of him. "I see." He studied her in the late afternoon light filtering in through the window behind his desk, noticing the pink flush that highlighted her cheeks. "Do you want to go get some dinner?"
She shrugged, shifting in the chair. "I think I need to work up an appetite."
He felt his face grow warm as his gaze wandered over her; the short skirt of her dress had ridden up with her recent movement, exposing the smooth flesh of her thighs. She looked like a goddess to him, her limbs pale against the dark violet of her dress. "You're beautiful." The words fell uncensored from his lips.
He heard her sudden intake of breath and he knew he had caught her off guard. She'd expected to tease him a bit, but her desire was palpable, and he was done talking. His eyes slid over her like a caress, down her elegant neck, over the curve of her shoulder, and coming to rest on the fullness of her breasts, "Let me see you."
She hesitated for a moment, but then a slow smile of understanding spread across her face. Her eyes never left his, as she reached up and pulled the tie behind her neck; the halter top of her dress fell forward and her nipples tightened instantly.
"Sara." He whispered her name like prayer, a plea, and a wish as her hands came up to cup her breasts. "Tell me how you feel," He ran his tongue over his lips, slightly stunned by the absolute beauty before him
"Amazing." The word fell lazily from her tongue as she sucked her fingers into her mouth. She spread the wetness across her nipples and the skin darkened as it puckered under her touch, a blush of arousal spreading across her chest.
He watched as her hands moved slowly over her breasts, and felt a throbbing between his legs. He slid a hand down, stroking himself over his pants, cupping the thick heat tightly against his palm.
"Honey." His voice was thick and heavy, coated with desire as he sought her attention.
Her eyes flicked up to his, as her body twisted with need in the confines of the chair.
"Pull up your skirt for me." He groaned as she gathered the fabric, pulling it up over her thighs to reveal a distinct lack of underwear. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes were drawn to the delta between her thighs; she was a work of art, a swirl of darkness and light, intimate and wild, a thousand things all at once.
She looked up at him, caught of guard by the depth of the desire she found staring back at her. The feel of his eyes on her was driving her to distraction, and she groaned as she slid a finger over her center, pressing down gently, "I'm so wet."
"What do you want?" He tore at the closure on his pants, thrusting the hard length of himself into his damp palm.
"You." She stroked the swollen lips of her sex, drawing the wetness up and around her center.
"How?"
"Fucking me." She kept her eyes on him, teasing her opening with a finger before sinking it deep inside.
He tried to remember to breathe, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of her finger.
"I need more."
"Use two fingers," His voice cracked under the weight of his need.
A second finger joined the first, and tiny sounds of pleasure escaped her lips as she quickened the pace, stroking herself until every muscle in her body ached for his touch, "Come here."
Standing up, he nearly tripped in his haste to round the desk while kicking off his pants. He'd barely managed to sit down in the chair next to her, before he was pulling her into his lap. Then she was all over him, encompassing him, not just with her body, but with her being. There was a beautiful symmetry in the way they fit together; the blending of body and soul, a glimpse of sheer perfection reflected in the rise and fall of her against him.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she came in a blinding white flash and with a final thrust he followed. Her head fell forward as she collapsed against him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly and savoring the feel of her in his arms. It was these moments, when their sated bodies were still intertwined, that he experienced his most profound moments of clarity. "I can't remember a moment when I didn't love you."
She traced the shape of his lips with her finger, finally lowering her mouth to his in a searing kiss as the truth of his words echoed deep within her, curling around her heart and bringing her home.
4. Lost & Found
(The Bedroom)
"Let's go," he knelt beside her chair, his hand moving restlessly on his knee, wanting desperately cover her hand with his.
Sara looked over at him and nodded, her eyes wide and empty. There was nothing left for her to do at the lab anyway; all the evidence had been boxed and sent to storage. She pressed her hand to her chest, willing away the ache that had settled there.
She followed him out to the parking lot without another word. She could tell he was worried; it seeped through the tiredness in his eyes every time he stole a glance at her.
They were a few feet from the car when he finally stopped fighting himself and took her hand in his. He held her close for a long minute, and then she felt his lips against her hair before he released her and opened the door.
She was pulling the seat belt across her chest when he slid into the driver's seat; he paused for a moment, staring at the keys in his hand. "I'm sorry."
She nodded, wishing tears would come to wash this terrible pain away. Two agonizing days had passed, and she had processed one dead child after another, all with her objectivity firmly in place. But for all her hard work, these four children would never see justice; their cases would never see prosecution and it just left Sara feeling empty, used up, and wondering where her faith had gone.
"I know you were hoping we would get him alive." He struggled with his words, wanting to say the right thing, all the while knowing it wasn't words that would heal her.
She looked over at him and tried to smile, knowing he was acknowledging her pain despite his own. She reached across the seat, covering his hand with her own. "Take me home," she said softly.
The house was dark and silent when he pulled into the garage. He didn't bother with any lights as they entered the house. Sara followed behind him, her fierce grip on his hand the only real indication she was still with him.
He led her over to the bed, and sat down as he pulled her into his arms. Her head rested on his shoulder, and he held her close, listening to the steady rhythm of her breath. He wondered how they'd ever done this alone.
Her eyes drifted shut, wanting to block out the memory of too many hours on a case with too few leads and no hope at all. She trembled in his arms as she felt his fingers sift through her hair. She sighed as his hands began to roam, a feather light caress, sweeping down her arms and across her back, bringing her a comfort he never could have with words. She stirred in his arms, turning so she could meet his gaze and her palm slid against his cheek. "I need you."
Her eyes told him everything she had lost, and the peace she ached to find. His heart dropped a little as he bent his head to hers, touching her lips lightly at first, then more deeply, as he began breathing life back into her.
Their clothes melted away, until it was only skin on skin. A breath caught in her throat as his hands moved over her body with a touch born of familiarity. He knew every inch of her inside and out. And with each sweep of a hand, each press of his lips, he brought one more piece of her home.
It was a spark of life that he shared with her; Sara felt it in the way he touched her, the way his fingers slipped between her, against her, inside of her. She came alive under his touch. Nothing had ever felt quite as real as the brush of his skin against hers.
She closed her eyes as she felt him part her legs, and slide into her. Her arms tightened around him as her hips came up to meet him, pulling him more deeply inside of her. She cried out as he moved inside of her, letting him fill her again and again, until all the empty places were gone,
He could feel the way his touch transformed her, the way that she was finding her way back to him; he heard it in her voice, the way she spoke his name like a prayer. It was all he ever wanted to be for her; the light that brought her home.
Her whole body tightened around him as she finally let go of everything, letting him wash the pain away on the strength of his love. He was flooding her, filling her, making her complete in all the ways she wasn't without him.
She opened her eyes, and he watched as she came back to him. She reached out, drawing his mouth to hers, and she kissed him. "I love you." Her voice cracked a little as tear finally rolled down her cheek.
He used his thumb to brush away the tears as they fell, whispering to her of his devotion, wanting nothing more than to be her haven, the one place where she knew she was home. And on nights like these, when her heart had been broken, he gave her little pieces of himself, the bricks to build a house of love of her very own.
5. Star Struck
(The Patio)
"I want to marry you, you know." His voice was soft and sure, floating to her on the night breeze.
At first, she didn't move. She kept her eyes firmly on the star filled sky as his words echoed in her head. She thought she should be surprised, maybe even a little annoyed at the mention of marriage, but instead she felt fate's hand upon her, and knew that if she added up the sum of her time with him, she would find it equaled this moment.
He listened to the steady sound of her breath as she lay in his arms; somehow since they'd begun to share a home, he was dreaming of a future he never thought would be his, and he wanted Sara there every step of the way. "I love you." His hand tightened around hers. "I've always loved you."
She almost laughed; he said it like he thought she might not know, "Yes." The word felt wonderful as it fell from her lips.
He finally looked at her, almost unable to believe this was going his way.
"That's my answer." She settled back against his chest and smiled. "When you get around to asking."
He turned her in his arms and kissed her, a kiss so full of love that it wrapped around her like a cocoon, binding her heart to his without reservation, and right there in his arms she knew her soul had come sliding home.
6. Epilogue
The color on the walls was called sweet pea.
It was the color of grass on a summer morning, soft and glowing and so fresh she could almost smell it. The ceiling was a canopy of pale blue covered in cottony clouds. It was as if he had somehow stolen the memory of a summer day from deep within her mind and breathed new life into it.
He'd covered her eyes when he'd led her into the room, and when she'd opened them she wondered if it was all a dream. She'd been banished to the other side of the house for weeks, wondering what he could possibly be doing; it was just a bedroom after all.
But as it turned out, it was much more than that. The walls sang to her of life; lady bugs danced over a crib the color of honey, butterflies fluttered across the walls and fat bees buzzed above an overstuffed rocker in the corner. Sara longed to just sit in that chair and lose herself in the wonder of her daughter's bedroom.
She wanted to touch it all, from the bright bunches of flowers that sprang from the corners to the tiny carved rocking horse beneath the window. She knelt carefully beside it, her fingers tracing the intricate lines and grooves.
"That's from Greg." He held out his hand to help her back to her feet. "There's a story behind it, I'm sure." He led her over to the crib, running his hands over the quilt folded over the rail. "The bedding is from Catherine."
Sara stared down at the beautifully sewn quilt, its mosaic of tiny squares a perfect match to the rest of the room. "This is too much." She said softly, her eyes roving over the embroidered bugs that flitted across the crib bumper and skirt.
"They wanted to be part of this too." He slid his hand into hers, "That huge stuffed frog over there is from Warrick and the books are from Nicky." She was already imagining the wonderful hours of stories they would share together in this room.
He tugged on her hand again and they crossed the room. Picking up a wooden box from the top of the chest of drawers he placed it in her hands. "And this one is from me." He would have laid the whole world at her feet, if that was what she had wanted. But she'd never asked for anything more than his love, so that's what he was determined to give her.
"How could there possibly be more?" She looked down at the box in her hands; inlaid across the top was a blue bird in flight amongst a field of stars. For a moment, she could only stare at it. "This is beautiful."
"Open it." His voice was ripe with anticipation.
Lifting the lid, she watched as the tiny gears inside came to life and cranked out a soft melody note by note. She stared at it for a moment and then turned to him. "Close to You." Her voice was barely a whisper. She closed her eyes for a moment trying to still the wild beating of her heart, "This song…my mother…" Sara was trying desperately to order thoughts, to find the words to tell him what he never could have known, "She said she loved it because it was playing the night I was born."
His mouth fell open, "Sara, I-"
She put her fingers to his lips and shook her head. In her wildest dreams, she had never imagined the wonder of the life that they would create together. "We're going to be a family," she said softly.
He gently caressed the swell of her belly as she drew his mouth down to hers, and as she kissed him in the middle of the room where they would lay their daughter to sleep, she finally understood what it meant to live in a house of love.
The End
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading House of Love as much as I loved writing it. I would love to hear your thoughts and it's easy to leave a comment. Just press the go button next to "Submit a Review" or feel free to email me using the email listed on my profile page.