LEVERAGE: An Attempt at a Dirty Drabble Series
ONE
One day Greg walked by Ecklie's office. Some unusual noises were coming through the partly open door. So he peeked inside. Hodges was giving Ecklie a blowjob. Or—more accurately—Ecklie was fucking his mouth. Hodges, trying not to choke, was deep-throating Ecklie. They both made a lot of strangled noises. Then Conrad yanked hard on David's black hair and announced his impending orgasm.
Greg only made it to the men's room sink before losing his lunch.
TWO
Two days later, Greg was still traumatized. He sat in the breakroom, his hands shaking, talking with his head close to Sara's.
"My eyes," Greg moaned. "How can I get that image out of my head? Hodges slurping on his dick. Humming. Ecklie...just about to come in his mouth..." Sara winced in sympathy.
Grissom sidled to the doorway in his silent way. Lingered there. His ears perked. An idea hatched in his brain like a duckling.
Hodges ignored the looks and whispers all around him. He did his work while thinking hard. Another week's vacation? At Ecklie's mountain cabin? Bonus.
And maybe I could get Gil to visit...
THREE
Three times Sara had walked past Grissom's office. Spaced five minutes apart, she calculated in her head. And Sofia was still sitting on the corner of his desk. Grissom looked besotted. Sofia looked predatory. Sara looked pissed.
Reverting to the rebellious teenager she'd been one summer, Sara looked around the empty hallways, strolled along, then doubled back and yanked on the fire alarm. Loud clanging sounds emptied the lab employees into the hallways.
A blast from the sprinkler system caused the red color of Sofia's shirt to run. The reddish water stained her khaki trousers embarrassingly. Her wet hair hung ropelike in her face. Yet leaning casually on the railing was Gil, looking impossibly handsome. Waterdrops glistened in his silvered curls and darker beard. He looked like a god.
Sara emerged to daylight. She walked right up to him. Grissom watched, gaping, as Sara's chestnut hair curled before his eyes. The sunlight lit up the varicolored highlights. She looked angelic.
They gazed at each other admiringly. When the fire engine sirens got closer, Sara asked him if he had a quote for an alarm. Loving a challenge, his eyes lit up. It only took him a moment.
"Fear, Fire! Foes! Awake!"
Sara looked suitably impressed. "Shakespeare?"
Grissom smiled sweetly at her and said, "J.R.R. Tolkein."
"Excellent choice. The Hobbit..?
"Yes, that's right," he said. "I see your taste in reading was similar to mine."
"Oh, The Hobbit is a classic. Practically required reading for geeks!" They chuckled. "Did you know," Sara's musical voice dipped and rose, "that the Romans used geese as watchdogs?"
"Do tell."
They conversed easily. Sofia could have stripped to her skivvies and Grissom would not have noticed. That was the moment she realized she never had a chance.
FOUR
Four hours early. That was about her average. Sara breezed in to check on some evidence so she could concentrate on the new case without being preoccupied with that. Some strange noises were coming from Ecklie's office. Sara slowed and listened.
Moaning. Panting. Was Hodges back? Ick. Could he—Mr. Skull—possibly be getting laid? At work, no less? The thought was disturbing. But she had to know. There was a space between the blinds that beckoned.
Catherine was spread-legged on his desk. Her shirt was open; bra shoved up, one tit exposed whorishly. And she was naked from the waist down, but for some strappy high heels bouncing in rhythm. Ecklie had his pants pushed down his pasty bluish-white thighs. He was fucking her.
Sara broke the speed limit driving to Greg's apartment. They drank every booze and beer bottle he had on hand and got blotto.
Sara was so plastered she slept through the alarm clock.
FIVE
Five minutes after shift started, Grissom called Sara. Sara is never late. She sounded so strange and out of it that Grissom was on his way to her apartment within five minutes more. He had been looking for an excuse to talk to her in private for a week, anyway.
Sara was in ratty pajama pants and a snug T-shirt so faded it was nearly transparent when she answered his knock. She had a serious case of bed head and bare feet. Her perfect breasts, just aching to be cupped in hand, were outlined in detail. Grissom's mouth dried and he forgot how to talk. Ravishing. Intoxicating. Sexy. He was still thumbing through his mental thesaurus under Beautiful when Sara cleared her throat.
"Something you wanted, Gris?"
"Can we talk?"
"Talk?" she repeated dully.
"It's important."
"Uh. Sure. C'mon in." A long slender arm waved languidly. "Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Soda? Juice?"
"Coffee would be great." Grissom seemed to bound into the room like a happy dog. He sat, very straight, on her couch and watched her. Sara decided that this was yet another side to the enigma named Gil Grissom. Possibly an irritating one. She was not particularly in the mood for head games. So she brewed a big pot of strong coffee, sneaking little glances at him. Every time, he was studying her with the same penetrating look.
"What!" she yelled, finally. Grissom jumped a foot in the air.
"Nothing! I just! I just like...Like looking at..." His eyes got big and panicky.
Sara's voice dropped another octave, rising at the end. "Looking at...me?"
Grissom nodded.
Sara smiled.
A/N: End of Drabbles. This has become a story. I'm getting greedy for reviews. Kindly drop me a line?
SIX
Sara and Grissom sat at opposite ends of her couch, avoiding each other's eyes. First they drank all the coffee. Hot and black. The haze lifted from her brain.
"I, uh, wanted to talk to you about..." he stammered. How do I start a conversation about the lab director and his sexual activities, and its impact on us?
Sara nodded, her eyes interested.
"I happened to overhear a certain conversation..."
"Did you now," she said dryly.
Grissom continued, letting that slide. "Between you and Greg. He witnessed two men, um, in the lab..."
"Ecklie? Getting his cock sucked? By Hodges?" Sara said bluntly, making Grissom wince.
"Yes. That's right." Grissom pursed his lips in distaste.
"That's not all," Sara explained. "I witnessed Ecklie and Catherine...getting it on...in his office."
"Catherine?" Grissom was horrified. "Catherine and...Ecklie?"
"Fucking. On his desk," Sara continued bluntly. Grissom couldn't say anything. He was trying to wrap his head around this new information.
"That's why I didn't go to work today. I was with Greg for the past 12 hours. Both of us tried our best to drink those images out of our minds."
Gris nodded, understanding. "I don't blame you. I still can't believe that Catherine would stoop...he must have promised her something in return..." They both considered.
"Anyway," he continued importantly. "It occurs to me that these...eyewitness accounts...could be beneficial to...us."
"Us?"
"Us, Sara," he said with a twinge of exasperation. "You and me. The two of us."
"How, exactly?"
"The lab rules. Relationships between supervisors and subordinates," Grissom explained, puzzled as to why Sara didn't seem to connect the dots with her usual ease. "If we show Ecklie has violated his own rules, not to mention engaging in these...activities...in the lab, on lab time, I don't see how he can object to the two of us."
"The two of us what?" Sara said stubbornly. She would be damned if she was going to misunderstand Grissom this time. Spell it out.
"The two of us could...pursue...this," he said, awkwardly gesturing between them. "Don't you know it was the main reason?"
"Let me get this straight." Sara's temper rose. "You wouldn't date me. You shot me down, treated me like shit, ignored me...for the past 6 years...because it was against the rules?"
"Of course."
"And now, because Ecklie turns out to be a big horn dog and is getting sexual favors in exchange for...something..."
"We have leverage. We can..."
"Go out. On dates."
"Yes, Sara."
"Good to know. Do I have any say in this?" she said acidly.
"Yes! I mean...unless...it's too late? For me?"
"Oh it's plenty late. I've wasted some of my best years waiting for you to get off your ass. And now I'm expected to...Gah! You have a lot of fucking nerve!" Sara hit him hard in the chest. Grissom let her, until her anger cooled a few degrees. Then he caught her hand and brought it to his lips. Gil kissed her wrist tenderly. He made love to her hand with his mouth. When she made a low soft moan, he lifted his head.
"Sara Sidle?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you give this old man...an idiot...another chance?"
"May...bee." He was kissing up her arm. Her mind flashed back to Morticia Adams, and she resisted a smirk.
"May I take you to dinner?"
"Okay." She laughed.
Grissom felt the mood shift. He scootched closer, kissing and mouthing and licking the inside of her elbow (which made her shiver) and then up the lean muscles, the biceps and triceps of that supple arm.
Sara was finding it very difficult to think. It felt delicious. Warmth flamed and burned between her thighs. Wait. I'm mad at Grissom. Why, exactly? Oh! Mmm. Ah, fuck it.
Sara slid her fingers under his jaw and tilted Grissom's head. In one smooth motion, she leaned forward and kissed him. A firm, kind of claiming kiss. No going back. We are...a couple.
Grissom's synapses lit up. Serotonin pulsed through his veins. Her mouth...incredible. Like tasting soft fluffy cake. His fingers glided over that faded shirt and grazed over her nipples. Sara whimpered and arched into his touch. Grissom's arousal was approaching a meltdown.
His lips pulled back but she followed, keeping the connection. Grissom stood and pulled Sara tight to him. Both his broad hands slid down and over the globes of her ass, exploring with delight. Sara attacked his neck and sensitive ears, whispering as she kissed and sucked how good he felt and tasted and smelled and looked.
The clothes—too hot—too tight—in the way. They stripped impatiently, shoving down zippers and tugging off shoes. His eyes were fiery. Hers were dark and dangerous.
And then there was a bed. And cool smooth sheets. And skin. Acres of beautiful skin.
Grissom and Sara lost themselves in each other. And a new story began.
The end.