I'M NOT WEARING THAT!

By Anna Greenway

Rating: M, for sexual references.

In the passenger seat of Catherine's car, Sara sat looking out the windscreen at the road ahead. It was a bright day in Las Vegas – too bright – and as the sun gleamed with irritating intensity on the road she struggled to pull together memories of the night before. She knew she had hit the bar with her colleagues, somewhere just off the strip, but everything after that was hazy.

"Remind me again...?" she began.

She chanced a glance at Catherine beside her. Catherine was leaning back calmly in the driver's seat, her hands gripping the steering wheel, a small smile threatening to tug at her lips.

"You remember, right?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah," Sara said, quickly. "I do, I just –"

But Catherine was smiling, the one that had threatened to break now spreading across her face. In truth, Sara had no clue where they were going. But Catherine had picked her up, and she had only the faintest memory of agreeing to go somewhere. She just couldn't remember where.

"Last night," Catherine began. "You said you have a big date."

"Oh," Sara said.

She nodded, knowledgeably, but that did not sound like her. Yes, she had a big date coming up. With Grissom. On Friday night. In a rare victory, they had both scored the same night off. Had she really confessed that?

"You do have a big date, right?" Catherine asked, giving her a sideways glance.

"Yes," Sara said. "I do."

It was too late to deny it.

There was a pause.

"You said it's his birthday," Catherine went on.

"Yeah. Right."

"And that you couldn't find a dress."

"Yeah –"

"And that you wanted a second opinion."

"Yeah."

"And that he had big feet."

"Yeah –"

She stopped, and snapped a look sideways. Shit. Catherine laughed, giggling to herself.

"I'm just kidding!" she relented. "You didn't say that. But now I know."

There was a cheeky grin on Catherine's face, and Sara had to remind herself that Catherine in the lab and Catherine loose outside were two different people. She had recovered astonishingly well from their booze session the night before, like she hadn't had a drink at all, and as Sara looked at her she felt a little irritated that she looked so utterly wide awake, and cheerful to boot.

"Oh, come on!" Catherine said, touching her elbow briefly. "You said you were going to have more fun this year."

Yes, she did say that. That one Sara did remember. She had said that to Nick as part of her New Year's resolutions. Trust Catherine to remember, and to take her literally.

"So let's have some fun," Catherine finished.

"Yeah," Sara said.

Then she wondered why she was being so serious. She had to relax. Now she was here, with Catherine giving up a day with Lindsey to help her, she probably owed her a good outing.

"Sure," she said. "We can have fun. I mean, I am fun."

"Sure you're fun," Catherine agreed.

"So we'll have fun."

There was a pause, and Sara briefly wondered again what she had agreed to. She still had no idea where they were going. And her head hurt. Badly. How many drinks had she had? It felt like many. Many, many.

"So tell me about him," Catherine said, still bright-eyed. "What's he like?"

Sara sighed.

"Well … he's …" she paused, thinking. "He's lovely, actually."

"Lovely?" Catherine protested, taking her eyes off the road to look disgusted. "What the hell kind of adjective is that? You are talking about a man, right?"

"All right," Sara conceded, determined to make the day work. "What do you want to know?"

"Well," Catherine began, with an air of stating the obvious, "Is he attractive?"

"I think so," Sara said.

"Successful?"

"Yeah."

"Good in bed?"

Sara turned, staring at her. Now it was her turn to grin.

"I'm not falling for that a second time."

"Okay," Catherine said. There was a pause. "So what else is there?"

"Well," Sara said, but suddenly she felt daring, determined to return Catherine's incessant cheek. "He's excellent with his hands."

She could not help boasting. Her mind went back to all her nights with Grissom, the discovery of his untapped talents. Oh, how it felt good to boast. Even if Catherine didn't know who she was talking about.

"Excellent, huh?" Catherine repeated, and she looked as if she was enjoying herself now. "That's a step up from lovely."

"He knows his stuff," she went on.

"A good lover, huh?" Catherine pressed.

For a moment Sara wasn't going to answer, but then she realised her friend was looking at her, a knowing smile on her lips, and by the time the thought occurred to deny it, she realised it had already been read on her face.

"It's like … being in another dimension," she confessed.

"Hell," Catherine said, surprised at her answer. But then she gave her a smile. "Then we'd better get him a good birthday present."

XXX

They headed for the mall, and Sara followed Catherine blindly, not attuned to where they were going and not really caring. The bright lights and endless cacophony of Vegas noise hurt her head, and the shoppers who milled around were annoying and could not walk in a straight line. Then without warning she found herself in a dress shop, standing amongst a temple of femininity.

She stopped, and pushed up her sunglasses. Why had she wanted a dress again?

"Come on," Catherine said, "Take a look."

Sara weaved her way among the display stands, her mind still not leaving the night before. How many drinks had she had? It must have been thousands. But she might as well cooperate, and so she took a look at a few, her fingers going straight to the price tags, flipping them up as she went.

"These are expensive," she complained.

Catherine brushed off the comment.

"Ignore the prices," she said. "Think of his reaction."

Sara did, contemplating it for a moment. She had never actually worn a dress for Grissom, largely because she didn't have any, outside of the suit she wore sometimes for court. She hadn't worn a dress much since college. But she had to presume Grissom liked them – most men did – and she wanted this relationship to succeed. She wanted to do something special for his birthday.

Suddenly she was grateful for Catherine's help. There were that many dresses she did not even know where to start.

She flicked up a few more price tags, trying to find a cheap one, until Catherine caught her.

"Will you stop that?" she accused.

Sara let the last tag fall, heaving a sigh.

"These are so expensive," she said.

"So?" Catherine challenged.

"So, I just think that financially, it doesn't make sense to buy a dress for one occasion. It's not economically sound."

"You said he's good with his hands," Catherine reminded her.

Yes, she had, Sara thought. Oh, she must be still drunk.

"Try one on," Catherine said.

She picked one up, navy blue, and nudged it into her chest. Sara caught it, but then looked down at the material.

"It's –"

"Sexy," Catherine provided.

"Short," Sara finished.

It went to her mid-thigh; a length Sara had never worn before in her life. And it had far too much cleavage.

"You have the legs for it," Catherine insisted, and motioned to the fitting rooms with her eyes.

But Sara did not move.

"If I wear that," Sara said, holding it out, "one wrong move, and it'll ride up or down who knows where."

Catherine stared at her, in frank disbelief.

"You are trying to seduce this guy?"

Sara stared at it. How had she gotten herself into this? She had to stop talking and drinking simultaneously.

"Fine," she said. "I'll try it on."

She had tried it on, and after staring at herself in the mirror in the small, dingy fitting room, Catherine had then decided to make her parade up and down the carpet, showing it off. A part of her hated to admit that it looked good. And it felt good too – as long as she tried not to move in it. Catherine had promptly bullied her into buying it, and Sara had before she could give it much second thought, and mainly because she was in a hurry to get out of there, and get home. To bed.

She had thought then they were heading back to the car, but it soon became apparent that when Catherine shopped, she took it seriously. To Sara, shopping was a mission done with maximum efficiency, and she was in and out as soon as possible, but Catherine had a leisurely style. She took another avenue, away from the car, and Sara had wondered if they were going for coffee before she found herself outside a lingerie store.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

"Uh … Catherine. No."

Catherine turned, already half in the doorway.

"Come on," she said, airily, "We'll just take a look."

And she headed in before Sara had a chance to argue. Then she was left with two choices – stand waiting for her outside like an idiot, or follow her in.

Sara sighed, and followed her in. It was like a lingerie explosion – there were buckets with discounted lingerie near the doorway, and then all over the walls, more expensive lines. Everywhere was lace, frilly bits, bits that dangled, and satin, and she hardly knew where to look.

"Catherine, this is an underwear store," Sara said, as Catherine unashamedly began looking around, touching a few items.

"You do wear underwear?" Catherine asked.

Sara hesitated. "Of course I do. It's just –"

"You're embarrassed?"

"No, I'm an adult. I can handle it. I just –" But she broke off, getting a glance of what Catherine was touching. It was something in red, with impractical little bows between the cups.

"Who wears this stuff?" she asked.

"Hey, don't knock it," Catherine replied. "I made a living out of this stuff."

Yes, Sara thought. She had forgotten that she was shopping with a former stripper. She seriously had to quit drinking, and making drunken post-shift confessions.

Catherine picked up a bra off the rail, and Sara took a step back.

"Forget it," she said.

"Is this you being fun?" Catherine asked. "Because you suck at it."

"When you said fun –"

"A dress like that, needs lingerie to go with it," Catherine replied, staring hard into her eyes. "You can't show up in your cotton briefs."

"I can't?" Sara asked.

"Take my word for it."

She thrust the bra into Sara's chest, just as she had the dress, and then accompanied it with a matching thong, from the bottom rail.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," she said.

Catherine smiled. Sweetly, cheekily, and stubbornly, her eyes alight.

Sara stared at the thong, and only one thought occurred to her.

"Why is it more expensive when there's so much less material?"

"Stop analysing it and try it on," Catherine said.

"I am not trying that on," Sara said, stubbornly. "You could not pay me enough –"

"You want me to tell Nick about the other dimension?"

Catherine gave her a coy look, so coy that Sara felt herself flounder. Catherine did have a charm to her – when she wasn't being extremely irritating. She was never drinking with her again.

"Come on," she said, softening. "I won't tell anyone."

She held it out, and Sara sighed.

Thirty seconds later, after an excruciating conversation about cup size, and Sara was in the fitting room, contemplating both hangers as they rested on the hooks in front of her. It had taken several deep breaths, and imagining the look on Grissom's face to make her begin to take her clothes off, and to put the bright red piece of nothing on, but then she had, and now she stood in front of yet another mirror, looking at the result.

The frustrating thing was that Catherine was actually right – although Sara had no intention of admitting to it. She did look pretty good, and it accentuated her legs, and flat stomach. She turned on the spot, but couldn't help catching sight of the view from behind.

"Catherine?"

Catherine was on the other side of the door, and Sara easily heard her voice.

"Yeah?"

"I want to thank you."

"What for?"

"For giving me the biggest wedgie I've ever had," Sara finished.

It was monumental, but, albeit attractive. She contemplated the view. It had paid to stay in shape. She had never imagined that it would actually look good on her.

"It's not designed for comfort," Catherine said.

"No kidding," Sara replied. Then, she could not help adding, "It's so far up my crack, it might lodge and breed there."

She heard Catherine scoff.

"They should call this crack attack," Sara said.

She heard Catherine sigh. "You need my help more than I thought." Then her voice turned airy. "You know, not all of life is an intellectual exercise, Sara."

"I get that," Sara replied.

"I mean, you do want to land the guy, right?"

"What I want …" Sara replied, "Is a respectful, understanding relationship."

"Screw understanding. You want to get laid. You want him bouncing off the walls."

"I do?"

"Him and his hands."

Sara tried to picture Grissom bouncing off the walls, and her, there in her low-cut dress, and sexy lingerie. How would he look? She smiled to herself. It just might be worth finding out. Perhaps.

"Either way," Sara said, "this isn't natural."

"If you want natural, go naked."

If she was lucky, she may end up naked, but she did not want to encourage Catherine by saying that. She removed the items, and tolerated Catherine's knowing look as they headed to the register.

She got out of there quickly.

It was on the way back to the car that they passed a spray tan studio, and Sara saw Catherine's eyes deviate.

"Don't even think about it," she said.

"You still being fun?" Catherine joked.

Sara smiled. "You've given me enough fun for one day."

"Oh, honey," Catherine said, giving her another coy look. "I've barely started."

But she passed the tanning salon, and when, further on, they passed a beauty salon that offered waxing, Sara took hold of her elbow, steering her past.

"No?" Catherine joked, guessing.

"Absolutely not," Sara finished.

"You do wax, right? Or you've had laser removal?"

Sara fumbled for an answer. It was none of her business.

"I've got news for you Sara," she said airily, "No one likes a mouthful of hair."

It was two days later that Sara slipped back, privately, cursing Catherine for the comment, which made her question herself throughout her shift. She cursed her even more for fifteen minutes after that, when the salon technician had been at work. But Catherine did not need to know that. Some things were better left private.

Two days later, Sara stood on the porch of Grissom's house, trying to strike her best sexy pose. She put one hand against the door jamb, guessing that that's what they did in the movies, and when he answered, she said nothing, but smiled.

He stood there in clean blank pants and a crisp shirt, an air of sexy cologne about him, but his eyes popped, staring her up and down, moving from her daring cleavage to her legs.

"Sara?" he questioned.

He looked absolutely bemused.

"Happy birthday," she said.

And he took her hand, and walked her in.

Hours later, and Sara had fallen in love, and it took her some time to come back from the other dimension. She was in Grissom's bedroom, naked under the sheets, nuzzling into him as he held her in the aftermath, and she fought to stay awake.

"I had no idea," he said, as if to himself.

"No idea what?" Sara asked, sleepy.

"Where did you get that outfit?"

"Oh." She stroked his chest, feeling the few hairs under her fingers. "It was just a random purchase. Something I picked up."

"You've never worn that type of stuff before."

"Well," she said, coy, "I figure, if you've got it, flaunt it."

"Right," he said. "Well no arguments here."

But she could feel him thinking, his mind not even sensing that she had dipped her fingers to his abdomen, stroking, tantalising, trying to see how much more energy he had.

"Is this a new philosophy?" he queried.

"I had an epiphany."

"An epiphany," he said. "That sounds like something I should hear about."

She smiled.

"Well, you can hear about it," she replied. "Or we can go again. Your choice."

And then he finally seemed to register what her hand was doing, and she saw his lip curve up in a smile. His lips leaned toward hers, and he kissed her.

Maybe there was something to this new philosophy after all.

I have no idea where this one came from. This appears to be where my brain goes at 1am when I'm lying awake and fretting about being unemployed … but it's a bit of fun and thought I'd share! Hope you enjoy it. :)