TITLE: Good Friends are Hard to find
AUTHORS: MSCSIFANGSR and JellybeanChiChi. A collaboration!
PAIRING: Sidle-Grissom
RATING: M
SUMMARY: Time apart can be trying, and sometimes it takes the help of friends to get from being apart to being together. Then you hope those people leave you alone. Sometimes they do… and sometimes they don't.
DISCLAIMER: We're just playing with them. And to Sheryl Crow: We just used 17 little words from one song of your's because we love the song.
SPOILERS: Every show aired in the U.S. to date.
BETA: Seattlecsifan (God bless her. She had no idea what she was getting into.)
JellyBean's NOTE: Never joke with a woman about her name. She might end up being a sexy vibrant lawyer, and you'll end up a chauvinistic detective who sleeps with hairy women. That just doesn't seem fair if you ask me.
MSCSIFANGSR's note: I don't really know how I got involved in this project; but knowing me, I probably instingated it. And CSIGeekFan, I started with one of your prompts.
He stood rooted, watching the brilliant streaks of light shatter the sky.
He had loved watching the lightening since he'd been a child, ever the scientist. Although, now, standing in the desert alone, watching God's light show, he didn't feel much like a man of science. He just felt lonely.
Sara had been in San Francisco for 3 months, 3 days, and 7 hours.
He never knew he could miss another person as badly as he did her.
Gil Grissom felt the first droplet of rain upon his ever present jacket sleeve and decided to make his way back to the Denali before the heaven's rained down upon his head. The scene had already been cleared, the body removed, and what little evidence there was, he had collected. He had waved the uniformed officers off, so he could spend a quiet moment alone before heading back to the Crime Lab.
He just didn't feel the need to be in the company of his friends and co-workers right at the moment. He quickly dialed Sara's phone number when he was safe from the overhead thunderstorm inside the county owned truck.
She answered on the first ring.
"Hey," her voice sounded sultry.
"I was thinking about you," he confessed.
"What about me?"
"I was standing in the rain wishing you were with me."
"Are you at a crime scene?" She tried to deflect the fact she wasn't there with him.
"Yeah, but the scene has been cleared and I'm alone."
"What about 'the criminal returning to the scene of the crime'?" He heard the concern in her voice.
"Not going to happen. Suicide."
"Oh." She paused, "Ummm, are you coming this weekend?" She had hesitated because while they tried to see each other each weekend, he had cancelled last weekend because of a hot case.
"Of course, sweetheart. I've already bought my ticket. Scheduled to arrive 2:35 p.m. Friday at the international airport. Are you going to meet me?"
"Griss, wild horses couldn't stop me." He heard the laughter in her tone.
He smiled at the receiver, picturing her face on the other end. "I'll see you Friday afternoon then."
"I love you."
"Ditto."
The call ended; he started the truck, headed back to the crime lab feeling a little better than he had in over a week.
A song lingered in Sara's head. She questioned whether she should have left Vegas as she recalled the lines from the old Sheryl Crow song:
"I'm leaving Las Vegas, And I won't be back.
No, I won't be back. Not this time."
She knew she had to go back. There was something very important there: her heart.
Her life with Grissom seemed right, when nothing else did. Sara was uncomfortable in her own skin, but the times when he just held her close, it was heaven.
So she had returned to the San Francisco Bay Area three months ago.
A week after she arrived again, Sara had rented a blue Mustang and drove it to the site of her first near-death experience. The old building that housed the bed and breakfast was gone, but the memories of what had happened there still tortured her soul. When she saw that another building had taken the place of her old home, she was relieved.
Somehow, she made herself drive by the cemetery where both her parents and her brother now lay. She couldn't face them, yet. Instead, she drove back to her hotel and called Gil.
That was a Friday. The next day, he showed up to see her for the first time since she left Las Vegas. It was wonderful; they shared their bodies and little else over the course of that first weekend.
Every single day, she missed Gil all the more. He did come to visit her as often as best as his hectic schedule allowed, but it wasn't enough, not nearly enough.
After three weeks in the Bay area, Sara had visited the county morgue to see Dr. Wade Wilson, who was the coroner when she'd done her internship there. As she made her way to her former crime lab, which was located in the main building of the San Francisco Police Department, she had bumped into her old college roommate from Berkeley, Carol Chauncey, who was now an assistant district attorney for Marin County.
Carol had convinced Sara to move out of the hotel and into a spacious loft in the North Bay area. They had spent many evenings out and about on the town, dining and drinking. Sara had explained parts of her life in Las Vegas but hesitated to speak of the time she'd spent underneath the red Mustang or of the way she sometimes wished she hadn't survived her ordeal in the desert. But instead she emphasized the good times she and Carol had shared in the past. And she spoke of Gil and Bruno.
It didn't take long before Carol realized Sara was essentially jobless. So she asked her brilliant friend to consult on various cases. It proved to be a beneficial relationship for both parties.
After two months in the area, Sara was entrusted to investigate a case that had been accidentally mangled by the investigators who handled the case. Sara looked over the case file and of course, being Sara Sidle, she sunk her teeth into it and was very hesitant to let it go. She had forgotten how much she really loved her job.
Sara pondered whether to return to Vegas. While being with Grissom topped her "pro" list, she wasn't sure if the work would be on her pro or con list. But there were many options for her: a doctorate, teaching at the university, teaching at the police academy, speaking engagements … even motherhood. She and Gil had discussed the options of having children together but the discussion had been finalized and when Gil had run out of condoms, he hadn't bothered to buy anymore and Sara had discontinued use of the pill.
But for now she was singly concentrating on her task at hand: hired gun for the prosecution. She conducted a thorough investigation of the case, Carol's status as ADA helped remove some procedural red-tape. Sara felt confident there were no loose ends in the case.
After being in San Francisco 3 months, 6 days, and 7 hours, she was on her way to the courtroom. She spoke to Grissom three days earlier and reveled in knowing they would be in each other's arms tomorrow.
Sara still had no notion where she was headed in the long run. But one thing she did know — with Grissom at her side, she couldn't fail.
Carol Chauncey stood up unexpectedly from the prosecutor's table. Sara's brown eyes widened at the woman's sudden explosion of apparent anger.
She had just handed Carol a note which read, "Looking left: creating. Looking right: remembering."
Sara knew the witness was creating his testimony; that was something Catherine Willows had taught her a long time ago.
"Objection, your honor," Carol exclaimed. "You cannot allow that portion of the witness' testimony. It is merely conjecture on the part of the witness."
The witness visibly reddened.
The defense attorney jumped to his feet and asked the judge for both attorneys to approach the bench.
Sara laughed slightly to herself, "I come back to 'Frisco and I end up on an episode of 'L.A. Law?'"
Carol returned to her seat.
So did the cocky defense lawyer who shot a dazzling white smile and a wink in Sara's direction.
Carol comically mimicked the man's gestures while Sara attempted not to laugh out loud, but let out a short, almost silent, snort.
"Sustained," the judge's voice brought Sara's flippant thoughts back to the matter at hand.
The defense had questioned the protocol of the San Francisco crime lab during their investigation and also questioned the work of the prosecutor in the case. Carol had suspected the defense's strategy, which is why she knew Sara would be a credible witness as a former staff investigator in San Francisco and member of the No. 2 crime lab in the United States.
Both attorneys began their closing arguments.
Sara's mind drifted off to more pleasant thoughts of Bruno and of his owner. The thought of Grissom was more than she could handle at the moment, so she forced her attention back to the proceedings in the courtroom.
When the jurors left to begin their deliberations, Carol turned to Sara and said, "I think Mr. Diego Ramirez, esquire, is trying to give C.O. a run for his money." Carol shot a quick, pointed look at the defense attorney then back at Sara. Carol had a full "cat that ate the canary" grin.
Sara wished she'd never told her friend a particular story that earned Grissom the nickname C.O., which is short for a name that would most certainly embarrass him to no end if he knew.
"Ummm," Sara stammered, looking at the man who stared back at her, then quickly back to the bottle blonde standing before her. "C.O. doesn't have any competition."
"Mr. Ramirez doesn't know that," Carol explained. "He's going to ask you out after the jury comes back with their decision: Diego is going to walk up to you, place his hand warmly on your shoulder, then tell you that although he lost the case, you did an excellent job in nailing his client."
Carol continued her tale with some suggestive, yet humorous body language. "Then he'll slide a little closer to you, cupping your elbow. At that point, he'll whisper something so you won't be able to hear him, so you'll lean a bit closer, then Diego will ask you out for a drink to celebrate your first win as an expert witness."
Carol crossed her arms, smirking. All Sara could do was smile at her friend. "You know, Carol, this isn't my first time being an expert witness."
"Diego doesn't know that," Carol replied as she shifted slightly to her left, effectively cutting off Sara's view of the man in question. Then abruptly Carol suggested, "Sara, let's go get something to eat. The jury is going to take about as long as we eat, as long as we take our time."
The two women dined at a chic, newly renovated vegan restaurant near the courthouse. They shared a few memories and much laughter, which made Carol feel good. When her longtime friend first arrived three months ago, she had bags under her eyes and a sadness belying much more than Carol understood. Sara smiled more now than when she had first arrived. She was almost a new woman and because C.O. came on the weekends to visit Sara in her new studio apartment, she appeared to be the young energetic woman she was when they had shared the inexpensive loft over a Chinese restaurant when they both attended Berkley.
"So, are you going to turn down Diego when he eventually hits on you?"
"Carol, do you really need to ask that?" Sara replied, a saucy smile on her face.
The blonde laughed, "So, is C.O. coming this weekend? I know you were disappointed when he wasn't able to come last week."
"As a matter of fact, he'll be here tomorrow, thank you very much. But I would prefer him to spend his time with me, not disposing of Mr. Ramirez's body," Sara grinned. "As he should, living up to his nickname."
As the two women laughed at the comment, Carol coaxed Sara to recall why the nickname C.O. stuck.
It was an evening in which Sara was blissfully stranded between dreams and consciousness She felt cocooned in warmth. She knew she was asleep but the imagined pressure from his lips on her skin had her wondering if she was dreaming.
She felt the press of his lips become insistent as they lingered over her lower stomach. Her mind filled with images of Grissom: standing at the entrance of the hotel Monaco smiling at her, his face cupped in her hand, calming him during a hard case, surreptitious looks they exchanged while at work. The images faded as her body become warm and languid, safe between her sheets and comforter and somewhere close, but not too close to consciousness.
Sara had never had an erotic dream feel as real as this one. He was moving inside her and her hips moved with his rhythm. She moaned something like "love you Gil," but she was unsure if she thought it or said it out loud, or merely dreamed it.
She moaned again as his hardness pounded into her. She felt her body begin to drift, her insides were clinching and spasming as his cock filled her completely. She screamed when she climaxed and then came again when she awoke to find a sweaty, real Gil Grissom still poised above her, his cock still hard as a rock inside of her. She had merely thought she was dreaming, but reality was much better.
Gil was still so far inside her she felt stretched to an almost uncomfortable level, but at the same time, she experienced a delicious sensation of being complete.
The spasms continued deep within her. The pleasure of their union made her entire body quake. Aftershocks raced through her body at odd intervals as Gil continued his deliberate assault. He pounded faster into her, then took her lips with his own and held the kiss as he exploded into her. The spasms overtook her again, as her whole body deflated.
After several minutes, when they could assume some control over their spent bodies, Grissom rolled off of her onto his back. Sara immediately curled into the crook of his right arm, with her right leg sprawled over his and sighed.
"Next time, don't start without me."
"Huh?"
"I woke up when I climaxed the first time. Great way to wake up…."
"The first time? How many?"
"At least five."
His chest puffed out like a peacock.
"But next time make sure I'm awake before you get started, I don't like missing anything."
"I thought you were awake."
"Umm, no."
"You were moaning and saying my name over and over…"
"I must have been dreaming."
"I hope it was a nice dream, my dear."
While their obliviously gay waiter asked them if they cared for a dessert, Carol had been paged and they returned to the jury's verdict for the State of California.
In the courtroom, after the verdict was announced by the forman of the jury, the judge remanded the defendant to continue to be held until sentencing and the defendant was lead toward the holding cell, Diego Ramirez made a 'B' line to where Sara stood holding her laptop case, but Carol cut him off.
"Ummm, Diego, she's married to another CSI who knows how to hide a body without it ever being found. Best to leave her be."
"Oh, my dear," Diego said, sidling up to Sara. "I could write a book about all the things we could do together."
"Well," Sara said seductively, "all I would need is 100 words to capture the pleasure my husband gives me. No novels full of unnecessary dialogue needed, thank you very much."
Carol was fully impressed, and so was Diego. "Well damn. Looks like I lost another one."
Carol smiled at his double entendre. They watched Diego leave and then Carol turned to Sara, "Well, well, well, Mrs. Sidle-Grissom. I think you enjoyed that. You will have to share those 100 words with me sometime."
"Maybe some day," Sara said. "Why don't you buy us that dessert we missed out on because of the verdict?"
"Why thank you, I believe I will. I'm thinking you're going to need all the energy you can get for your weekend visitor," Carol said with a smile as they walked away. "So, will I get a chance to actually meet Captain Orgasm this weekend?"
Sara batted Carol's arm but smiled as she said, "His name is Gil."
"Not any more," Carol said. "But seriously. I haven't met him yet. I think you're holding out on me because you think I might capture his heart and leave you holding nothing."
Sara laughed. "Yes, that's it Carol. You might steal him away from me with your…"
"… undeniable sexual appetite?" Carol said, finishing Sara's sentence before she had a chance. "Because let me tell you, honey It's been a while since I've had one decent orgasm, much less five in one night. And if I did get my hands on him there would probably be props, aides and perhaps even cameras at my disposal."
"Carol, you're a pervert," Sara said.
"Yeah, I know, but you still love me anyway."
Back in Vegas, Detective Gene Gonzales applied handcuffs to a woman who was being arrested for the murder of the girlfriend of her husband.
Gil Grissom and Nick Stokes had worked the original crime scene together collecting the proper evidence to possibly convict the woman of first-degree murder. A uniformed officer led the woman, Elizabeth Green to the waiting squad car.
"Hey, Grissom, why do you think she did it?" asked Gene, an old friend of Nick's.
"The why doesn't matter to me, I just follow the evidence. It never lies. And the evidence in this case led us here, so therefore, the evidence must be right."
Gene elbowed Nick, "Does he always talk like that?"
"Oh yeah."
Both men openly stared as the graying man picked up the last of the new evidence they had found in the woman in custody's apartment. Gene broke the silence that had descended, "Hmmm, a pure scientist. You don't just trust your gut feeling, Grissom?"
"I have been known to from time to time."
Gene looked at Nick, "Amigo, let us go out for drinks after we wrap this up."
"I'm in," Nick replied.
Grissom politely smiled, not thinking the detective had included him in his invitation.
"Will you join us, Grissom?"
He considered the man, newly transferred from the Dallas police force, standing slightly to Nick's left. He and Nick had both gone to the police academy together Gene worked his way up the ranks from patrol to detective in Dallas, while Nick had become fascinated with the forensic aspect of police work, finally transferring to the Las Vegas Crime Lab 12 years ago.
When Gene and Nick had first laid eyes each other at the body dumpsite, they had resorted to their antics from their younger days. Nick bent over to get eye to eye with his boss. "Come on Griss, what do you have to do other than go home and go to bed? You need to get out more, have a little social life."
"No, Nick."
Gene gave a look at Grissom, and then quickly glanced at Nick with a smile and a chuckle. He spoke to Grissom in his heavily accented Latino accent, "OK. I understand. Look, this isn't the first time a guy like you has … fallen for a straight guy like me. You shouldn't feel uncomfortable with your feelings. It does not bother me, but just for your understanding you can look but don't touch."
Grissom stood and was rendered speechless. His look revealed shock, confusion and a tinge of repulsion. Nick, on the other hand, muttered an "Oh my God," and slapped Gonzales' arm. "Dude, you are crazy. What the hell is wrong with you? Grissom's not gay!"
"What? The man has classic symptoms and he does not wear a ring…" Gonzales stopped, but continued before Nick could cut in. "Oh. Of course." Gene made a sign of the cross before continuing. "Did you lose your wife recently? I am sorry, amigo."
"No, I haven't lost my wife. She's perfectly alive and healthy," Grissom said, a little flabbergasted. "I don't wear my wedding ring at work because it interferes with collection of evidence. You seem to make a lot of generalizations before you know all the facts."
Gene smiled, a bit relieved the man's wife was alive. "Amigo, sometimes you think things, ask questions and then get the facts," Gonzales said, sporting a smile like nothing happened.
Nick injected, "His wife, Sara, is on a leave of absence from Vegas and in San Fran right now." Nick then turned his attention to Grissom, "Come on Griss, Sara would've gone if I asked her," Nick pleaded with his boss.
"Okay, Nick, Gene. I'll go, but I might be a little late, I need to go home first and walk Hank."
"Who's Hank?"
"Sara's dog." Grissom gathered his evidence and kit, walked to the door and turned back to the Texans. "I'll log in this evidence and you two interview the suspect. I have some paper work to do, so why don't we meet," Grissom looked at his cell phone for the correct time, "at about 9?"
Both dark-haired men agreed to the time and Nick laughed a bit, "I don't remember Sara calling the dog Hank."
"She doesn't. She prefers Bruno."
"Does that not confuse the dog?" Gene asked.
Grissom looked at him with an innocent, nonchalant look. "He's a dog. He deals with it."
The answer puzzled Gene. Nick, on the other hand, was used to that stuff. "I'll page you with the where, Bugman."
Grissom left the apartment with a nod.
The two friends made their way to the shared police issued vehicle, "Tell me the story on that man, Longhorn" Gene demanded.
Nick smiled at the reference to the college both had attended. "He's an entomologist," Nick continued after noticing Gene's scrunched up expression. "Grissom has a doctorate in the study of bugs, which is a specialized field in forensics because many times a dead body attracts insect activity and with his knowledge of the little critters, then he can figure out time of death."
"He has done that for long?"
"I guess about 22 years."
"And before that?" Nick looked at Gene questioningly. "Well, it is obvious he is a man in his 50's. He must have done something before that?"
"Jeez, Gonzo, now I'm beginning to think things about you," Nick scoffed. "Why all the questions?"
"It is just conversation, amigo."
Nick smiled. Of course it was. "I think he was a coroner in Los Angeles."
"Now, tell me about the wife?"
Nick looked at him with a different expression on his face. "When did you get so good at interrogation techniques? I mean, seems like anybody would fold under such intense questioning."
"You must see me in action when we get back to the station, Ms. Greene will not know what hit her."
Gene drove the Dodge Magnum in relative quiet for a while, before he recalled Nick hadn't answered his question. "So about this Sara?"
"Oh, Sara came from San Francisco about eight or so years ago to investigate the death of a CSI. Grissom asked her to stay with us after her investigation ended. They never told us, but we all suspected that they shared some kind of history," Nick recalled. "Then around the time all that stuff happened to me, Griss and Sara began a real relationship. We never knew the two were even living together until Sara came up missing."
"Those are tough memories, amigo. I'm sorry."
"S'okay, anyway, we found Sara but she wasn't the same CSI as before. Anyway, finally all the stress of the situations boil over and Sara left Vegas for a while."
"Were they married then?"
"Yeah, but we didn't know that either, which is amazing since we're all trained investigators."
"They are a lot alike, are they not?"
"Yeah."
"So, she left him after they got married? For how long?"
"It's been about four months, but Griss tries to go to San Fran every weekend to be with her."
"Well, today is Friday so he will be leaving to see his woman soon," Gonzales said. "We must send him off right."
--
Later at the club, Nick and a red headed woman were dancing on the dance floor to a very slow country song. Gene and Gil sat at their table, nursing scotches. "My ole daddy always called that belly rubbing music."
Grissom laughed.
Gene prompted him again, "Nick has always been a ladies' man."
"Yeah," Grissom answered without thought.
Gene decided to see if he could get Grissom's attention, since it wasn't on the alcohol, the closely pressed bodies of Nick and the woman, the music, or the company. "So, all that Nick told me about your wife, it is true?"
"Depends entirely on what he told you."
"How long were you in love with her before you married her?"
"I bought the ring six hours after I first met her."
Gene laughed. "And when did you finally give it to her?"
"Seven years later."
"You make sure you are doing the right thing before you jump into something, am I correct?"
Grissom actually laughed a full-bellied laugh. "You might say that."
"Is she a good lover?" Grissom glared at the 30-something detective and chose not to answer.
Gene laughed. "If I you were in the interrogation room, your face would be telling me, 'I want my lawyer.'" The detective continued to laugh, but quickly tried to change the subject. "Gilberto, that's a nice name."
"Well, Gilberto is nice. Gilbert. Not so nice. That's why I go by Gil." Grissom took a long pull on the drink he held in his hand, as he finished the drink, he motioned with his other hand to the waitress, who's attention was fully on the detective.
"Ah, I see. I too had to shorten my name. My given name is spelled E-U-G-E-N-I-O."
"Eugene-io?" Grissom said, with a slight slur after his third scotch
Gonzales rubbed his eyes. That is exactly why he shortened his name. "No. No. That is not right at all. It is pronounced "Eh – OO – Hen – E - O."
"U.."
"No, eh..."
"E-OO.."
"Ah, Dios... Please, do not try to say it again. Call me Gene."
Nick walked up with the red head in tow. Grissom was almost ogling a woman on the dancefloor, slowly pulling up her shirt, exposing her flat, tanned stomach. His eyes blinked for a moment as the woman took off the t-shirt, exposing her lacy peach La Perla bra. The woman looked somewhat like Sara and Gil became aroused by the sight. The woman's hands were caressing her sides; Grissom was caressing Sara in his imagination.
Nick caught Grissom's stare. "Hey Bugman, Sara would kill me if I got you messed up with that one."
"I'm not wanting to get messed up with anyone," Grissom said, offering Nick a mixture of macho and drunken awkwardness.
Nick chuckled. Macho Grissom was a priceless rarity to witness. "How long since you saw Sara?"
"Two weeks."
"Damn Grissom. That's 14 days too long. When is your flight?"
"1:35." Grissom answered bluntly.
Gene checked his watch. It was already 11:30. "You better hurry, amigo."
Nick retorted. "It's OK, Gonzo. Griss lives about 10 minutes away."
Gonzo seemed impressed. "That is suburbia."
"Yeah, we live on Midnight Pass. We love it," Grissom said as he scrunched his eyes as he fished the correct bills from his wallet.
"Go home," Nick said to Grissom. "Take a shower. Catch your flight. Tell Sara I love her and me and Gonzo here will be fine, since it appears we have dates."
The waitress was hovering over Gene's right shoulder, Nick pulled the red head closer, and Grissom wistfully looked at the brunette on the dance floor.
"Nick. Gene." Gil got up from his seat. "Ladies. Good… ah night."
Nick laughed again. "Damn. If he gets off the plane acting like that, Sara's going to kill me."
"Oh come on. He's a man. Let him be a man."
"Oh, Grissom's a man alright. A good man. But Sara's the one wearing the pants in that family."
"Give me a week with that guy, and I'll show him a thing or two about handing women," Gene said and he brought his waitress into his lap.
The statement caused Nick to replace the subtle kiss along the redhead's neckline with a whole-hearted laugh. "Yeah, Gonzo, you da man when it comes to women. That's why your relationships last as long as a 12 pack of condoms. Sara would eat you up and spit you out. And that's if you even got that close to her. I hear the friend she's working with is one hell of a pistol."
"Ah, amigo. You have no idea who you are talking to," Gene said, grabbing the waitress's ass causing her to lightly squeal. "I love a challenge."
"Why don't you just appreciate what you got right now, amigo," Nick said, returning his attentions to the voluptuous and receptive female companion.
Gonzo did as well, but noticed something on the table next to Grissom's empty Scotch glasses: the CSI's eyeglasses. While groping his gal with one hand, the other extended to retrieve the glasses and place them in his pocket. Maybe he could drop them off in Grissom's mailbox.
--
When Grissom got home, he checked his already packed overnight bag, in case he'd missed something. The boxer crawled up onto the bed with him after he had showered. "Maybe just a quick nap," Grissom said out loud to no one in particular. So, Grissom slept, thinking of Sara dancing for him as the woman in the bar had been. He unconsciously pulled the warm body of his dog closer to him and muttered, "Sara" in his sleep.
The dog wasn't insulted. It wasn't like Bruno/Hank cared about what his humans called him.
Grissom's eyes popped open when he heard the sounds of a barking dog and a loud knocking on the front door.
Neglecting his cottonmouth, he groped the nightstand for his glasses but didn't find them. Finally he got out of bed a little groggy, but determined to get the noises to stop. Upon stepping out of the bedroom, he didn't see the dog and he tripped over the over-grown pup, but got up only to trip into the coffee table. This time he grimaced as he put weight on his right foot. He couldn't even hobble to the door, so he performed an awkward game of hopscotch on his left foot toward the door.
He was surprised to see Detective Gene Gonzales on the other side of the door.
"Grissom, amigo. What are you doing here? It's 2 o'clock!" Gene exclaimed. "Did you reschedule your flight?"
Grissom still fought his groggy, hung over feeling and the pain in his right ankle. But he heard the time loud and clear. "Oh shit! I overslept. DAMMIT! … Come on in, detective. What are you doing here, anyway?"
Gene stepped through the threshold. "I came to return your eyeglasses. You left them in the bar. I was going to put them in your post box, but when I got out of the car, I saw your dog in the window. I thought it was strange of you to have left him alone in the house for a weekend. And when I saw your car in the driveway, I thought maybe you might be home still."
Grissom let out an exasperated sigh. "I should never have went to that bar."
"You were letting off steam. Nick said you worked your ass off all week."
Grissom looked at the man. "Why was he still here?" he thought. "Listen, Gene, thank you for coming down and returning my glasses. But didn't you have a date to attend to?"
Gene laughed. "Please, that is over. I think she was looking for a dinner invitation, and I think, why spoil two good hours of carnal pleasure with potential date and relationship talk."
Grissom sighed and went to turn around, forgetting that putting weight on his right ankle was a bad idea. Gene caught him before he fell. "Let me help you to the couch. Maybe we can call about a later flight. Is that your itinerary on the table?"
Grissom was taking his right shoe and sock off and checking out his ankle when he grunted in the positive to Gene. The detective retrieved the information and called the airline from the kitchen.
He returned a short time later, smiling. "Well, I was able to get a credit for the flight, so you will not lose any money, but many flights have been cancelled due to security issues, so there will not be another flight until tomorrow."
"Damn."
"I am sorry, amigo," Gene said.
"How did you manage to get me credit?"
"I told the representative that you were missing your flight because you single-handedly put a dangerous criminal behind bars," Gene said, most satisfied with himself. "Loyalty to men in blue goes a long way."
"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not a man in blue," Grissom said.
"Well, if we don't get you to San Francisco, you will be sporting blue balls, amigo. Huevos azules!"
While Gene laughed, Grissom glared at the man and continued to fiddle with his foot.
"Grissom, amigo, do you need me to take you to the doctor?"
"No. I think it's just a sprain. I should wrap it," Grissom went to get up. "I'll get the kit from the guest bath… ohh!"
Gene pushed him down again. "Ah, Dios, tell me where it is. I will get it."
Grissom pointed in the direction of the guest bath, and Gene came back and started wrapping Grissom's foot. "Actually, there is another way for you to leave for San Francisco today."
That got Grissom's attention. "How?"
Gene shrugged his shoulders and made a puckish, self-righteous face. "Let us say, I know someone with a private plane, who owes me a favor. We could be in San Francisco within two hours."
"We?" Grissom said.
"Well, my friend would not just take anyone on his plane. I would have to accompany you," Gene said. "And, fortunately, I have never been to San Francisco."
Grissom could not believe this was happening. His flight would be landing in San Francisco in about an hour without Grissom on it. "Listen, I'll just tell Sara I made a mistake, went drinking with you and Nick and missed the flight. I'd drive, but it's not like I can do that. I'll see her next week."
Gene finished up the ankle and showed his exasperation. "Tell your wife you went drinking? Are you crazy! Amigo, do not be stubborn. We can tell her you got hurt working the case and missed the flight for the same reason I told the representative — you single-handedly took down a criminal. Women love that."
Again, Grissom look at him with a mixture of surprise and amusement. "I can honestly say, detective, when speaking in regards to my wife, you have no idea what you're talking about."
"Amigo, I know women. Trust me. Let me call my friend and get us a flight."
"Please don't take this the wrong way, but why would I want to go with another man to see my wife for the weekend?"
"Ah, Dios, I will be in San Francisco. You will never see me," Gene said, leaning into Grissom, causing Grissom to lean back. "Are you aware there is a large homosexual population in San Francisco?"
"Is that right?" Grissom said with a smile.
"Si," Gene said.
Upon noticing Grissom's expression, Gene felt he should offer further explanation. "No, senor. I do not say that because I am gay. Let me explain. If you have many homosexuals in one area where there are many women, those women will be without a man." Gene waggled his eyebrows up and down.
Grissom cocked his head to one side. "So, detective.."
"Please, Gene."
"So, Gene, you are saying the ratio of straight men to straight women gives you have an advantage?"
"If you add in my undeniable charm, it is foolproof."
"What if the women think you're gay?"
Gene laughed again and gave Grissom a hearty slap on his back. "You are a funny man, amigo. Nick never told me you were a funny man."
"I'm sure he didn't," Grissom said.
"So, does that mean I should call mi amigo?" Gene said. "Please, I know you want to see your wife."
Grissom pursed his lips in thought. He really didn't want to owe this guy a favor, but he really wanted to see Sara. "OK, I'll call and tell Sara that there has been a change in our plans."
"Because of your heroic efforts," Gene interjected.
"No, because I'm an idiot. Trust me, she will believe that. Heroic, not a chance."
"As Nick would say, it is your funeral."
While Gene worked on getting a flight, Grissom phoned Sara. "You missed the flight? Hard shift?"
"No, I just took an invitation to go out with Nick and his friend. I should have gone home immediately. I'm sorry, Sara."
"Hey, it happens. We'll see each other next week."
"Actually, someone is arranging for me to get a flight on a private plane today"
At that, Gene came into the living room from the kitchen with thumbs up. "Our flight leaves in an hour. We should leave here, now."
"Did I hear you and someone else has a flight in an hour?" Sara said, putting frustrating emphasis on three words. "What's going on, Gil?"
Grissom sighed. Time for the short version. "Nick and I were working with a new detective, Gene Gonzales, who went to the police academy with Nick. The three of us went for drinks. I left my eyeglasses at the bar. Gene came to the house to drop them in the mailbox. He saw I was still home and knocked on the door. I woke up and realized I missed the flight. I was going to drive, but I tripped over Hank..."
"His name is Bruno," Sara insisted.
"Sara, originally it was Hank and it's a good name."
"It's my ex-boyfriend's name."
"It's also the name of the greatest baseball player of all time. Besides, what man wouldn't want a constant reminder that his beloved wife's former lover was a dog? To me, that's Shakespearean poetic justice."
"You're so full of shit," Sara said with a laugh. "Stop getting off the subject. Why are you coming to San Francisco with someone else?"
"Well, like I was trying to say, I thought about driving but I tripped over our dog and twisted my right ankle. Gene, Nick's friend, offered to arrange a flight courtesy of someone who 'owes' him, but he said his friend would allow it if Gene flew to San Francisco with me."
"That sounds fishy," Sara said. "Grissom, I'm not sharing a weekend with you with another man."
"Neither am I. He's a good friend of Nick's and he promised me, he would disappear as soon as we landed at the airport." Grissom looked around and saw Gene standing right next to him. He was going to censor his next comment, but why? "Gene sees himself as a ladies' man, and thinks he'll have no problem occupying his time while in San Francisco."
Grissom looked at Gene, who simply smiled, rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement. "Amigo, tell her to meet us at Brown Air Field at about 4:30."
"Honey, do you know where Brown Air Field is? … Good. Meet us there at 4:30. … OK, honey I love you too."
After he hung up, Gene helped Grissom up. "I need to get Hank leashed. Do you mind if I drop him off at the sitter's?"
"That is fine. Then we go to my place where I can get a nice suit, and we will be on our way," Gene said.
After Grissom leashed the dog, Gene helped him to the door and grabbed Grissom's overnight bag on the way out.
"Don't you need more than a suit?" Grissom asked.
"Oh, I always carry a bag with a change of clothes, toiletries and other essentials in the car," Gene said. "What? I am a single man."
Grissom laughed and got in the car.
--
After Grissom talked to Sara, she called Nick on his cell phone to get the 411 on his buddy. Nick answered his phone in soft, almost breathless voice. Sara was concerned. "Nick, are you OK?"
"Sara? Hey girl," Nick said in a voice barely above a whisper. "No, I'm ahh… fine. What's up?"
Then it hit Sara. Grissom at a bar with Nick and Nick's friend. Grissom leaves his glasses, but Nick's friend brings them to the house.
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Nick. You're with a woman right now, aren't you? There is a little thing called voice mail."
Sara heard movement on the other end of the line, and then some soft pads on a floor. Finally Nick's voice was a little louder, but not much. "I was… asleep."
"Uh huh," Sara said with a smile she was sure Nick could imagine. "Where are you now?"
"In the kitchen."
"OK, what time is it?"
"Um, I, uh… I don't know. I just woke up I don't have my watch on."
"Nick, you have a clock on the wall of your kitchen, and the time is also set on your microwave and coffeemaker."
"OK, Grissom No. 2, you figured it out. What's going on?"
Sara explained the story and finished by asking, "So, this Gene guy, is he a weirdo or …"
Nick laughed, although he tried not to be loud. "Gonzo? He's harmless. But he loves to hit on women, and he asks a lot of questions."
"He's not going to be a third wheel?"
"Oh no way. He's not like that, but if you want to keep him occupied, just find a woman for him to wine and dine and argue with. That's the key to Gene, if he can't argue with a woman, then he's not really interested in her," Nick said, laughing at his own joke.
"Grissom said he was with a woman at the bar and left her to give him his glasses," Sara said. "He sounds like a player."
"He's a nice guy. He probably got bored with that girl, she probably couldn't take his acidic wit," Nick said. "What can I say, he loves a challenge."
"So I guess you didn't get bored with your new babe?"
"Who said she was new?" Nick said with a smile he was sure Sara could imagine.
"I'll let you go, Nick. I miss you."
"Miss you too, Sara. Come back and visit."
Sara hung up with Nick and realized since she didn't want to meet Grissom and his new friend in a cab and it would be a miracle to get a rental in short amount of time. So she decided to call her friend for a little help.
"Carol, do you still want to meet Captain O?"
"Sara, I don't know how many times I have to tell you, no matter how much you beg, I'm not interested in a threesome with you two."
Sara laughed. "Come on, Carol. Seriously. There was a change in his flight arrangements and I want to meet him at the airport. But I can't get a car in time, so how about you drive me to Brown Air Field."
Carol made a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But if you guys start fucking in the backseat, I swear to God I will record it on the cell phone and put it on YouTube under the title 'Captain Orgasm and Give-it-to-me-five-times Girl.' Then I'll break out the 20-pound bags of ice and throw on you guys. Got it?"
Sara's mind was reveling from that exchange. Finally she said. "'Give-it-to-me-five-times' Girl? That's the best you could do?"
"Oh, screw off," Carol retorted. "What time do I pick your 'give-it-to-me-from behind' ass?"
Again Sara was silent, minus a snort she was obviously trying to suppress.
"Oh, now come on," Carol said. "That was funny!"
Grissom didn't know what was more interesting: the drive from his house to the airport (with a couple of stops along the way) or the flight to San Francisco. Gene loved to use his siren and admitted while taking the normally 25 minute drive from his house to the airstrip that his favorite movie was "The French Connection."
That made perfect sense to Grissom. They made it to the plane in nine minutes, 12 seconds.
The flight was another story. There was an enormous amount of laughing and frivolity between Gene and his friend. Grissom just sat quietly, buckled in his seat with his ankle propped up to reduce the swelling. Judging from the jerking of the plane, Grissom thought maybe the pilot's favorite movie was "Airplane!"
His ankle was still tender and he hoped Sara hadn't arrived at the airstrip yet, so she wouldn't have to witness Gene and his buddy helping him debark.
Sara and Carol got to the airfield a mere five minutes before the plane landed. When the hatch of the plane opened and a stairway was placed outside the door, Carol immediately noticed a handsome man with a head of hair and wonderful forearms emerge from the plane. She saw the man smile at them and the look seemed to linger on her. A slight tingle of antipation was cut off when Carol realized that the man was her friend's husband.
"Wow, your C.O. is hot," Carol said.
"Not that I disagree, but how would you know? He's not even off the plane yet," Sara said.
"Oh," Carol said, allowing the tingle to spread again, making a mental note to meet Mr. Forearms.
Just then Mr. Forearms was joined by another man who gingerly came down the stairs. With every step, Mr. Forearms would turn around to make sure the man behind him didn't stumble.
"There's Gil," Sara said, waving excitedly.
Grissom was concentrating on the stairs but before reaching the last step, he saw Sara, waved back and completely misjudged the last step. He took a comical giant step and tumbled forward.
Gene, who was already off the steps, turned around to catch Grissom but couldn't reach him in time. Fortunately, he was right there to laugh in Grissom's face and help him up.
"Amigo, take it easy. She wants you in one piece," Gene said, witnessing Grissom's blush rising up his face.
Carol couldn't help teasing Sara. "That's Captain Orgasm? The guy who hobbled off the plane and just fell flat on his face? Sara, I'm never believing another word out of your mouth."
"Believe what you want. That's Gil," Sara said "Come on. I'm going to help him."
Sara went to Grissom's side as he tried to straighten himself. "Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance."
Grissom smiled and went for a kiss. "Hi honey. I… uh… fell. Is this Carol?"
Carol had her arms crossed and lifted up one hand for a wave. "Overstating the obvious there, huh C… Gil?"
Grissom caught the catch in the name and turned to Sara, but before he could get a comment out, Sara changed the conversation. "Is this Nick's friend?"
"Oh, yes. I'm sorry. Gene Gonzales, this is my wife, Sara, and her friend, which I presume to be Carol Chauncey."
Sara gave Gene a nod of acknowledgment as she used both her arms to help Grissom to get his bag from the cargo hold.
Carol still stood in her place, and Gene approached her with a hand extended. "Hello."
Carol looked up at him with a wary smile, offering her hand to him. Gene quickly took the unexpected opportunity, turned her hand over and kissed her palm . "My pleasure, Carol."
And for his gentlemanly gesture, Gene received snorts and chuckles from Carol. "Oh, give me a break. Do you expect me to kiss something of yours now?"
"That is up to you, Linda."
"Oh, Linda. Cute touch. I'll pass. I have no idea where any part of your body has been."
"I could say the same about you, but that didn't stop me from kissing your hand."
"Yeah, that's an attractive quality: discretionary hygiene."
"Hey!" Sara called back to the couple as she and Grissom walked toward Carol's car. "You guys coming? We can have dinner."
Carol quickly made her way to them, with Gene closely following, checking out the woman's bottom as she walked ahead of him.
"So dinner," Grissom said, with a big smile. "My treat."
"Oh, your treat," Carol said with mock excitement. "I've heard about your treats."
Sara's glare would have bore through most people while Carol just laughed, as Gene observed with a keen eye.
Gene went back to the plane to grab a bag he had forgotten and say goodbye to his friend.
Carol sat in the driver's seat and popped the trunk so Gene could put the bags away.
Meanwhile, Sara and Grissom got in the back seat of the car, where Sara comfortably leaned against her man.
After he took the pressure off his ankle, he gave Sara a pleasant smile. Sara gave him one back. But … different.
She pounced on him and, while bewildered, he allowed her assault. Their kisses were becoming heated. Her hands flew across his chest and he caressed her breast and gripped her hips when she sat upon his lap, but it didn't hit him that maybe they were being inappropriate until he heard the "unzip a la Sara."
Unwittingly and without thought, she quickly unzipped his pants to allow his erection some freedom from it's confined space.
"Hon," Grissom said in a quiet, muffled voice. "We should … ahhh!"
"SARA! I'VE GOT MY CELL PHONE OUT!" Carol shouted as she looked in the rearview mirror wagging her iPhone.
Sara turned her head to face her friend's reflection and stuck out her tongue.
Then she returned her attentions to Grissom, whose lustful look was hidden behind his "tsk tsk" demeanor. With a single-handed pat on her left hip, Sara gave a pout and returned to Grissom's side. Grissom faked a couple of coughs and pulled up his fly.
"What was that about?" Grissom whispered in Sara's ear.
"She deserved that," Sara said.
"By the way, what has she heard about my treats?"
Now Sara offered a few fake coughs. "Tell you later," she mouthed in silence.
Gene opened his car door, oblivious to the show. "So, where shall we eat?"
"I have an idea," Sara said with extra seduction, again looking at her friend's mirrored reflection, which sported a scowl. Her arm quickly shot up, phone in hand.
Gene was starting to understand. "So, Carol. I have a question about this lovely city."
"OoooKkkaay."
"So, where do you prefer to find your women?"
"Excuse me?"
"I do not want to confuse a location where women gather and learn I am not the type of partner they prefer because … well, they prefer what you prefer"
"Oh, really?" Carol said. "So you think the only possible explanation for me rejecting you is because I must be a lesbian?"
"Well, it is not just that. There are other considerations."
"Yes, I'm listening."
"I've seen how you've looked at Sara. And, how you've look at Grissom when he is with Sara. It is jealously."
Sara's "oh boy" was barely audible. But Grissom's, "Carol, don't worry. Gene thinks everyone is gay" filled the car. "He asked me if I was gay this morning."
Carol was really beginning to like C.O. "No, no. Now, Gene, I'm not going to deny what you're saying. … And Sara… neither should you."
"Carol…" Sara said, her hand covering her face.
"No, Sara, let's just get it out."
Then, Carol really started to like C.O. when he said, "She's right, Sara. There's no reason to keep this all inside. I know all about it and … I understand."
Gene was on the edge of his seat and he looked like he was watching a Mexican novella. As if on cue, Sara let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. I'm a lesbian."
"So am I," Carol said.
"I'm a Leo," Grissom added.
"Guess what?" Carol said. "That makes you a lesbian."
"Is that… good?" Grissom looked at Sara, confused.
At this point, Gene put his hands up in surrender. "OK. OK, mis amigos. I apologize."
With the exception of a few snickers, the car ride became a little quiet and the passengers limited their exchanges. Grissom and Sara luxuriated in the other's gentle touch, while Carol concentrated on driving in the heavy traffic and Gene gawked at the sights of San Francisco.
Carol looked in the rearview mirror, looking at the reunited couple. She thought, They look good together. Then did a double take when she saw where Sara's hand was located.
"I SWEAR TO GOD, SARA! I'm stopping to get ice now!"
--
The quartet agreed on tapas, and Carol drove to a nice restaurant that offered an eclectic mix of tapas cuisine (for the meat eaters and non-meat eaters). It also offered pitchers of the finest homemade Sangria.
While Sara and Grissom enjoyed a glass or two, Carol and Gene were toasting one another by their third glass and philosophizing by glasses four and five. The two shared a common bond; it's never too early to get out of a date, whether the thought comes pre- or post-coital.
"Afterwards, I was lying against the guy's arm, and I swear to God, I thought I was lying next to his Pomeranian," Carol said laughing and leaning into her new buddy.
Gene put his head back and rolled his eyes. "Oh, my dear, I had the exact same thing happen. I should have known there was a reason she wore a sweater in June in the Texas heat." Gene offered to refill Grissom's glass but he politely refused. "Fortunately, the angel in a fur coat was a snorer"
Carol put her glass toward Gene, who refilled it without a word. "Now, do you slip out of the bed at the first snore?"
"Oh, no," Gene said, emphatically shaking his head. "Absolutely not."
"Right," Carol said in agreement. "That's a common mistake. I wait until at least the second snore with air intake."
"Yes, that is a good system," Gene agreed.
Both Sara and Grissom looked at one another with a smile. The conversation between the two inebriated singles entertained the couple. And Carol realized that.
"And you two," Carol said with a slur. "Don't look at us like you've never had to deal with this stuff. I'll bet you did some of the same things when you were dating each other."
Both Grissom and Sara shook their heads in the negative.
Carol rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Capt. O, you're telling me you never gauged the cuddling time with Sara."
Grissom's arm laid across Sara's chair, allowing him to play with her hair. "Are you talking to me, Carol?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Carol said breaking in a fit of laughter. "I didn't mean to reveal your secret identity, Gil."
Grissom simply laughed back and looked dumbfounded. "OK. But you should know this: once I finally had Sara in my arms, I never wanted to let her go."
Grissom smiled as Sara simply leaned into his chest.
Gene and Carol looked at each other and laughed as they drank so more Sangria. "I feel myself slipping into a diabetc coma now. That shit's too sweet." Carol said, as she pretended to faint, slipping into Gene's arms.
Sara's hand had wandered along the north end of Grissom's thigh and his hand moved to her ear, a subtle cue to wrap up the evening.
Sara sat up in her chair, "Well, you two. Shall we call this an evening?"
"What are you talking about?" Carol said. "The flamenco dancers haven't started yet. You don't want to miss that."
"Actually, we're not that interested in that tonight," Sara said, most diplomatically.
Carol cracked up in a very un-diplomatic manner. "Well, thank you so much for not humping on the way… ah, shit Gene, what do you call the stuffed artichoke hearts again?"
"Alcachofas rellenas, my dear."
"Yeah, well, thanks for not stuffing them personally."
Gene snorted sangria out of his nose at her comment, causing Carol to laugh.
Grissom simply shook his head. "Gene, do you have a place to stay tonight?"
"What? You mean I'm not staying with you two?" Gene asked with the most innocent expression possible, causing both Sara and Grissom to sputter.
This time, Carol had sangria coming out of her nose.
"Relax, he's joking. Hell, he can crash at my place. I have a nice comfy sofa.," Carol said. "That is, if he doesn't find a woman to share a bed with. Because if that's the case, he sure as hell ain't coming back to my place."
"Well, I am a gentleman, and if you find someone, I will be more than happy to accompany you two home to make sure your virtue is safe."
"Are you saying if that if I find a man or a woman?" Carol said with a devilish grin.
Gene gave a pensive look. "It would not matter, my friend."
"OK, well, we'll call a cab to get back to my place," Sara said. "I need your keys Carol. Grissom's bags are still in the trunk of your car."
Carol extracted her keys from her purse and tossed them at the couple. "Sara, screw the cab. Why don't you drive my car back to your place and Gene and I will take a cab to your place and pick up the car later. I have a key to your place. Just leave the keys on stand by the front door."
"OK. I'll do that. But… Carol … just come in for the keys."
"Oh, God, Sara," Carol said putting her hands up in an exasperated gesture "I'm not going to come in the loft and watch the two of you screw."
"Are you sure?" Sara said salaciously. "You might learn something."
As both Gene and Carol offered "Ohh's," Grissom tried to lead Sara away. "Goodnight, you two. It was nice to meet you, Carol."
"Charmed, C.O."
Sara and Grissom left as fast as they could, considering Grissom's sprained ankle.
Carol and Gene enjoyed a relaxing moment of silence as they continued to sip their libations.
"They seem well suited for each other," Gene said.
"Oh, Sara's crazy for that guy," Carol added.
"She has him wrapped around her slender finger," Gene said. "Apparently she wears the pants in the family."
"Well, the way she talks, when they're together, no pants are required."
"Really?"
"Apparently."
Gene laughed. "You should see him at a crime scene. An Amish grandmother would tell him to lighten up."
Carol looked impressed. "Very nice, Gene."
Again, the duo enjoyed a relaxing moment of silence as they continued to sip their sangrias.
"So," Carol said to Gene. "You … wanna go watch them screw?"
"Well," Gene said with equal measurement. "That would depend, Linda. Do you really have the keys to her apartment?"
"I do."
While the two drunken buddies waited for a cab, Carol regaled Gene with the tale of how Grissom got his nickname. Gene seemed impressed. "My. That is not what I expected, but the two can't keep their hands off the other."
"I don't know if I believe her story or not, there's no way those two nerds could make such passionate love," Carol said.
Gene's expression turned to include a wide smile. "Of course, if we had video proof," Gene chuckled. "Did you know I am quite accomplished in video and audio surveillance?"
Carol was enjoying a buzz as much as Gene. "Well, Gene, have you ever heard of a program called 'Windows Movie Maker?'"
"And have you, my dear, heard of ?"
Gene laughed, but Carol stopped. "We are so full of shit, where would we get a camera?"
Once again, Gene sported a smile. "The Canon Vixia HF100: I never leave home with out it."
"You brought it with you?" Carol said, gaining a nod. "Gene, you are such a dog. I love that about you!"
Gene and Carol took a cab to Sara's studio apartment. Carol quietly unlocked the door and padded inside. There were muffled noises coming from the area where the bed was located behind a screen.
"Good," she whispered to her partner in crime. "They're going at it."
"So, what is the plan?" Gene whispered back.
"You're the cameraman. Go for it," she challenged.
"Right." He moved off toward the screen, camera ready. He looked around for a moment for something to place the camera on and pushed a couple of buttons.
Sara screamed.
Both culprits froze. Their eyes met, afraid of being caught, but what they heard next, relaxed them both.
"OhGodGilrightfuckingthere."
"Sara, you're so wet, honey."
The dynamic duo smiled and let out a couple of drunken snorts as Gene flicked the camera on. A red light showed the camera was fully operational.
"She's going to fucking kill me if she finds out," Carol whispered.
"Do not worry, my dear," Gene whispered, a devilishly sexy smile upon his face. "Their faces are in the shadows."
The two sneaked out of the loft, but kept the front door slightly open so they could watch and know when it would be time to retreive the camera.
Meanwhile, in the scene in the 2"x3"viewfinder was purely pornographic.
They watched as Grissom's fully exposed ass filled the screen before he moved closer to his prize. Sara opened her legs a little wider revealing the full lips of her pussy. Grissom's tongue snaked out and wet his dry lips in anticipation. Not wanting to disappoint her, he brushed his tongue lightly over her clit. She let out a quiet sigh of pleasure. Grissom continued to nuzzle her with his mouth.
Sara was becoming more and more excited with his ministrations, so he brought one of his fingers to her cleft and slid it gently inside her. He performed a pumping type action with his finger, before he stopped and began a circular motion. Sara had fallen back onto the bed, caressing her taunt nipples
Grissom withdrew his finger and began to lick her clit, again.
Sara's body lifted off of the bed and Gil used his arm to pull her back down.
Her clit was so hard and sensitive. With every flick of his tongue, Sara gave a deep moan of pleasure.
After several minutes, Grissom stood up and gazed down at her beautiful naked body, lying sensually against the backdrop of her bed, he noticed her pussy glistened with a wetness caused by his mouth and her natural juices. He then moved between her legs and slipped his cock to the entrance to her pussy. He brushed his cock against her wet lips, then he took his dick in his hand and rubbed it up and down the length of her slit, not pressing into her.
"What do you want, sweetheart?" Grissom's voice was deep with need.
She looked up at him, "I want you to fuck me, fuck me as hard."
Grissom leaned down and placed a kiss on her swollen lips. "I don't believe I heard what you just said, honey."
Sara practically shouted as he rubbed the head of his manhood against her, teasing her. "Iwantyour cock insidemenow. Fuck me hard."
He thrust into her wetness, pushing hard back and forth, hard and fast, then slowed his pace, with Sara's moan's and then back to hard and deep.
Her tits were bouncing in time with his thrusts and she began pinching her nipples between her fingers.
Grissom moaned in pleasure as her pussy clamped tight around his cock, milking it hard. Grissom pulled out of her as her spasms tightened over him and he began to fist his erection over her stomach. Spurts of jizz matted her pubic hair and her fingers slipped down and rubbed his come into her skin.
In the background, Carol and Gene high-fived. They looked at each and mouthed silently, "Cum shot!"
Sara and Gil had gone to sleep on the bed and Gene crawled back to the screen and grabbed the camera.
Once the two culprits had left Sara's building, Carol looked at Gene, "We are horrible people."
"Yes. Terrible individuals."
"So… what do you say we go back to my place and upload it onto 'youporn'?"
Gene grinned, "And are you horny as I am?"
"Uhh, yeah!"
"I think this is the start of a beautiful relationship," one of them muttered as they made their way to Carol's car.
With his shift finally over and members of the shift accounted for and gone for the day, one man got out his personal laptop and opened his airport feature for wireless Internet access. With the door to his office closed and blissfully locked, he clicked to a popular bookmark on his Mozilla program.
"So, let me see what's in the 'just in' file this morning?" he said to himself, a smile creeping upon his face.
Upon clicking there, Conrad Ecklie's eyes nearly popped out of his sockets.
Ecklie didn't know what created more bile in his mouth: the fact that he witnessed Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle having wild animal sex …
… or the fact that he immediately recognized Grissom's ass.
THE END