The water is getting deep and dirty. Starting to earn the M here. Short chapter, for the meanness of it.

Sunday Evening

(Greg's version)

We splurged for supper and caught a taxi to Royal India. The food was very good, and the atmosphere was romantic and soothing. Sara ordered Thali, a vegetarian sampler platter, while I decided on an unpronouncable dish that consisted of potatoes and peas in a sauce so hot that it singed my nasal hairs. Yes, I'd be paying for that in the restroom the next day for sure; better pick up a tube of Anusol on the way back to the hotel, because what goes in flaming comes out the same way.

"Try some of mine." I pushed my plate over to her. She smiled and served out a bit over her rice. "It's really good, but it's hot."

"Indian food generally is. It makes Mexican seem bland in comparison."

"I like it, though. I remember the first time I tried it I was in college. I was on a date, first date with a girl I'd been trying to get to go out with me all semester. I didn't know what to order, so when the waiter came I just picked something and pointed to it on the menu. When the food came I took a great BIG bite. Needless to say, I wished I hadn't. I tried to be Mr. Cool, not suck down a pitcher of water as the inside of my damn mouth was dissolving. I was brave and manly. My eyes were watering, though."

"How'd the romance end up?"

I snorted. "Took the 'just friends' exit ramp before the night was over. Made me wish I'd gone for that water pitcher."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, well, story of my life." I leaned forward. "We going to the banquet tomorrow?"

"Don't see why not - unless you'd rather skip it."

"Doesn't matter. "

"They're delivering the rental car tomorrow around noon." Her tone was airy. "We COULD go check out this place I heard a couple of people in front of me talking about instead. Unless you really WANT to go to the banquet."

"I don't exactly WANT to go, but I would, if you wanted to"

She grinned. "I want to blow it off. See, there's this weird tomb about thirty-five miles north of here. The guy's buried in a giant boulder."

"You mean IN the boulder, or under it?"

"IN it. They chiseled out a tomb, put him in, and sealed it. He was some sort of politician or something. They say there are other graves as well, like a family cemetary, and they're actually buried in the ground - but with a shelter built over them. "

"It sounds cool! Let's go."

She grinned. "You're as morbid as I am."

"We're CSI's, Sara. We're SUPPOSED to be morbid."

Sunday night

Sara's version

After my shower I changed into my nightclothes, a brief, silky little short pajama set. This one was one of my sexiest. It bared most of my belly, and the legs of the shorts were Daisy Duke short. As I brushed my hair I wondered why I'd brought it along. I'd known I was sharing a room with Greg, yet instead of practical long PJ's I'd only brought the slinky stuff. If I'd been travelling with Warrick or Nick I would have packed differently. I knew Greg was interested in me, so either I was a dyed-in-the-wool prick tease or I was subconsciously trying to deepen his interest. I needed to give this more thought.

I stepped out of the bathroom, and I watched his eyes darken as he looked me up and down, then averted his gaze, his cheeks flushed. My quickened heartbeat answered my question. I slipped under the covers next to him.

Sunday night

Greg's version

I don't know why, but Sara was definitely trying to kill me. Yes, Sara, I really needed another night of sleeping with a major boner. I jacked off in the shower an hour ago, but thanks to you he was back, and he wanted to be introduced. I was hopeful he'd go to sleep, but with her over there I wasn't expecting much.
I sighed. closed my eyes. and hoped for the best.