A/N Response to our Yahoo Groop Weekly challenge issues by Smryczko. Incidentally Smrycko served as beta along with Cybrokat.
The names that Sara and Gris call one another will become clear later on. Of course you can always look them up but what fun with that be? At least you will actually know what Grissom's names means since Sara doesn't. Otto is Japanese and the "t" is pronounced more like a "ch".
Challenge Elements:
GSR (that's a given, right)
Someone (should be a CSI or significant other of a CSI) as a Juror
A CSI testifying at the same trial
Grissom Crying
A really bad argument
Sex toy used not for intended purpose
Mismatched Sex Drives
Mention of Real Sex program on HBO or other educational Sex program on television
Grissom in tights
The first or last line should be "I knew he was a sensualist"
A quote from Nietzsche
Spoilesr: LHB, sure there will be others.
References to bondage no violence.
I really would like a little feedback on this one guys.
Thanks
Chapter 1
"I knew he was a sensualist." Heather laughed as she looked at the other woman. James Brass would have preferred to be called a good cop but you got your complements where they landed.
She ignored the object that Jim Brass had placed in the middle of the table. Heather had been in the small room for half an hour. Listening and watching. Answering both simple and complex questions.
She was not a pretty woman. Her look was too strong. Everything too unforgiving. That mouth. Well that mouth could earn her a better living than her current occupation. This woman. This CSI Sidle was something different. Something that Heather rarely saw. She was chosen.
Most women were not chosen. Instead they created some frenzied delusion of lipstick and perfume making spectacles of their authentic selves in order to attract men that did not understand them or want them or understand them as they were.
This woman harbored no such fanciful delusions or needs. She was not painted or drawn on or wasted away or silicone infested. She was in her own skin comforted by the knowledge that she had been chosen.
She looked at her wrists and her thin slim fingers as she wrote. There were no visible marks. There hardly ever were. For this woman there would be a hand print on the calf covered with pants she had to special order because he legs were too long for conventional sizes.
There would be palm print on one cheek. A bruise on her neck that resembled a hicky but was not one.
The woman had said only few words since they had been in the room. Periodically she leaned over and spoke into the ear of the cop, they seemed comfortable with one another but he wasn't the one, as he asked questions about the client that Heather was certain had killed someone.
Her voice was low and rumbling. Not a girl's high pitched squeak that some women emitted at part of their mating call. She held a woman's voice that could send men scurrying to do her bidding.
Heather inhaled deeply. The scent was familiar and thick. The scent of this CSI Sidle and her lover. Who was this sleek creature with too much of all that mattered?
Brass interrupted Heather's thoughts. "What do you know about the vic and your girl?" He asked again.
Brass pointed to the large purple sphere on the table.
"We found this at your place of business Lady Heather. What exactly is it?" He asked again.
Long lashes fluttered and full lips twitched.
You have lovely lips.
"Captain Brass, you should know what this is." She licked full lips. "It's a dildo, Captain Brass."
He lips returned the lip twitch. "Why was it at your place of business? I thought there was no sex allowed."
"Captain Brass, solo sex is not prohibited. Thus the dildo."
"So you provided the…."
Lady Heather smiled. "We provide the discipline and a few props as needed."
Sara moved and eyed the dildo.
"I told you Captain Brass. He was a client. She worked for me. You have my records. You have talked to my staff. Beyond that…."
He saw something cloud exotic features.
"What aren't you telling me Lady Heather?"
She sighed heavily and Jim tried not to stare as her breast heaved up and down.
"I believe they entered into a personal contract."
Brass watched her for several long moments. "You gonna tell me what that means?"
"I believe that Malva and Bryant entered into a dominate and submissive contract. I believe that he was the dominant and she was the submissive. She was very good at allowing men the allusion of control." Heather cut her eyes at Sara who was eyeing the dildo with a far off expression
"Aren't most women?" Brass asked.
"No. They aren't. Which is why we end up in such dreadful relationships."
"So what would this contract have entailed?"
"They would have agreed on basic behavior, perhaps time commitment, expectations. If there are fantasies that one or the other would be interested in those would have been included. The safe word certainly would have been spelled out then. They would have signed probably within the confines of one of the local BDSM groups."
"Why the contract?" Brass wanted to know.
"Domination and submission are very powerful. It's really the submissive that has the power which is why most women excel at the role."
Another glance in Sara's direction, who seemed unfazed by the other woman. The interview had made Brass nervous until Sara assured him that she would be fine. He was impressed with her restraint. Sara Sidle adored, most probably loved Gil Grissom. A meeting with a woman that had captivated him for a time could prove volatile.
Heather spoke loudly and directed her words in the other woman's direction. "He that humbleth himself wishes to be exalted."
"Nietzsche," Sara said evenly.
Heather turned back to Brass.
"People need guidelines and rules Captain Brass. They need to know what's accepted and what's prohibited. They need that even in the most intimate of relationships. This is one of the most intimate of relationships. You expose parts of you that few have ever seen. Rules ensure some measure of safety
Brass pointed to the dead woman whose photo sat in the middle of the table. "That doesn't look very safe."
Heather nodded her head and looked at Sara solemnly. "That's what happens when people fall in love."
XXX
Sara tried not to stare at Greg's splotchy face.
"Did you go to court like that?" Sara wanted to know. She eyed Catherine's hands as she blotted calamine lotion on the various sections of Greg's face.
"Well, when I left I looked like my normal cutie pie self. While I was on the stand my face starts itching. By the time I got back here, I looked like this."
"Know what caused it?" Sara asked.
"Apparently sex lotion." Catherine spoke quietly as she swabbed another blemish.
"What…?" Sara raised an eyebrow
"I was in the lab looking for Hodges lotion stash, he's such a skin care queen, cause I exfoliated last night and I was still a little dry. Turns out they had some lotion left over from last month. I never found Hodges stash but I did find the lubricant. Only I didn't know it was lubricant. It looked like regular lotion. Smelled like regular lotion. It was called Palm Breezes. Who knew?"
Sara smiled sweetly. "Sorry Greggo. If it helps any you are still my cutie pie."
The young man grinned.
"I guess it's all worth if two of my favorite ladies pay a little more attention to me."
Sara gave him another grin. "Did you see Gris down there? I know he was trying to wiggle out of jury duty."
Greg watched Cath close the bottle of anti-itch medicine. "Um…I saw him in the hallway after the case. Surprised they let him stay on in a case I was testifying in."
Catherine stood back to see if she missed any spots. "Probably because he was out of town when the evidence was being processed and none of us had talked to him about it."
Catherine moved Greg's hand away from his face as he tried to scratch with his pinky finger.
"He was on the phone. Real hush-hush. Didn't seem like he wanted to be disturbed."
Sara nodded and shook her head and retreated. Once she was alone in the lockeroom she looked at her phone.
Eight calls from Otto.
XXX
Sara rapped on the door and was greeted with smiling blue eyes. He waved Sara in. They didn't have…a what? Sara was never sure what their evenings and afternoons were called. Part of her hoped to find another woman there. That he was on a date. That would make things so much easier.
Several black and white photos were spread across the kitchen table. The day before Sara had been spread across it. She picked up one of the snapshots and raised an eyebrow.
"Is this you in tights?"
Gil smiled proudly. He was pleased that Sara had just stopped by without an appointment on the books. "My aunt ran a dance studio. I was stronger than most boys my age so she paid me five dollars a week to lift."
"And peek I am sure." Sara said dryly.
"Of course."
Sara laughed and put the picture back where she found it. "How was your case?"
"Eh. Boring." He didn't know why Sara had stopped by. The case had worn on him. He needed to see Sara's face.
"No bugs. Not a one."
Sara picked up another picture of tight clad Grissom. "I can't believe they let you even stay on the case. Doc Robbins, the Sheriff and Ecklie all got summonses. I am apparently the lesser of all evils. The lawyers didn't want ever law enforcement types turned around so I was the only one left." huh?
Sara found herself losing her nerve. She thought of the papers in her purse. "So you done?"
"Cut and dry really. Older man. Younger woman. Thought his money was going to keep her from straying. Apparently the husband had nil sex drive. By all accounts she loved him. She just couldn't deal with the lack of sex. Started sleeping with the gardener."
"What was the crime?" Sara said edgily.
"Attempted murder. He tried to kill the gardener. Shot him. She was right there though. Doesn't look like she's going anywhere no matter what he's sentenced."
Sara took a deep breath. Gil saw faint worry lines appear around her mouth and eyes.
"What?"
"Your girlfriend came by today." She said impishly. She knew that the words she spoke were not true.
"Girlfriend…"
"Heather."
"Heather is not my girlfriend." His hands were resting on her forearms now. The tattoo that had faded with time peeked out from under one of his long sleeves. It was a butterfly. He had taken to calling her his butterfly. Sara waited for him to say that she was his girlfriend. His something. He remained mute.
Sara broke contact and pulled the folded paper out of her purse. She held it out for him to take. He made no move to accept it. She placed it on the table.
"Just because you won't take it Gris doesn't mean I haven't done it."
He eyed the paper then looked at dark irises. "I don't suppose we can discuss this."
His voice was flat and controlled. His hands steady.
"You said if either one of us wanted out we did not have to explain. That's what the contract said. We wrote it together. You agreed. We agreed." Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his eyes. They were dark and hurt. Still he had said it best once. It wasn't worth the risk. Her stomach was unsteady and grumbled. She hadn't eaten.
His leaned back in his chair. "You didn't eat?"
"I forgot."
"You can't do that Sara. Your hypoglycemia. I'll make you something."
Sara shook her head. Anything affable and pleasant between them would only make things harder.
Weeks ago they had passed the stage of lovers. They had always been intimates. They needed more time together. His eyes followed, as they always had, across a room, across a scene. She noticed now. Everyone noticed.
"I have to go Sir…Grissom. I have to go."
He watched her drive away and opened the note.
Dearest Otto,
I formerly release you from any obligation you have to be as your submissive. I withdraw myself from our contract. I have learned a great deal about myself and for that I am grateful. I will miss our time together. I have never felt so cherished and cared for.
Your adored one,
Keiko
The last lined seemed to be scrawled as an after thought. Their relationship summed up in one clean sentence. Still he was grateful.
He sat in his living room for hours. Not moving. Thinking only of her and their time together. The constraints had allowed him to love her without breaking his heart. It hadn't worked. His heart was shattered into a million slivers that seemed hopeless and beyond repair. He was a tired man much like Dr. Lurie who had been given new life by a young beautiful woman. Now she had taken it away.
TBC
