~*~*~*~ Part II ~*~*~*~
"Jeez, Cath! Aren't you hungover?" Sara asked into her phone, trying to shove down her feeling of dizzying nausea at having to sit up and think so quickly after having drank so much the night before.
"Oh - I'm used to the feeling. I know a great cure, I'll be over in a few minutes. Eddie has Lindsey for the rest of the afternoon, and we need to find the proper torture devices for our Nicky and his mascot."
Sara laughed. "Sounds good. Come on over."
~*~*~*~
"Wal-Mart?" Sara asked as Catherine pulled into a parking space.
"Girl, you don't even know the cheap-ass panties they have in here."
Sara opened her door and stepped out gingerly. "No, thank God, I don't."
Catherine smiled and led Sara back to the lingerie section. Sara immediately went to where the frilly underwear was hanging on tasteful display racks, organized according to size.
"Sara, honey? What are you doing?"
Sara looked up from the white lacy thong she was holding. "I'm. . ."
"No. Over here."
Sara's eyes grew big, then a slow smile spread across her face. In a forgotten corner there was a round three-tiered rack with bright purple, green, orange and pink blaring out through a mishmash of leopard print, black see-through and deep red.
"Hookers don't even wear this stuff," Sara mumbled as she tried to separate a string bikini from a thong.
"Yes they do. Why do you think they sell this stuff?" Catherine's eyes lit up as she spotted something that made her heart skip a beat. "We should have made the bet for five days instead of just three."
Sara held up a vinyl green camisole and panty set. The underwear was in bikini style, tied at the sides with orange ribbons. The legs were barely stretchy enough for a child, let alone Greg, and the back of the cami was made out of stretchy nylon, a sure itch-inducer.
"Greg. Day one," was all Sara said.
Catherine smirked and held up a leopard-print thong. "Greg, day two."
"Ooooohhhhhhh! Me like. And this," she held up a dark red velvet thong, "for Nick for day one."
"Day two. This is day one." Catherine smirked as she held up what she had been hiding behind her back.
The very brief black thong made Sara itch just looking at it. "What is that material?" she asked, reaching out a tentative hand to finger the thong.
Catherine snorted, "I don't know, but it looks like a weird mix of pleather and polyester lace. Hot and itchy! I can just see Nick squirming now!"
"And a matching stretchy camisole - too bad we couldn't get one of those feather boas and make him wear it, as well! I can see it now: Nicky - Queen of the Desert!" Sara started to giggle. "I've never had this much fun buying underwear before."
"Yeah, too bad we couldn't have gotten Griss and Warrick involved."
They both broke off into peals of laughter at the thought of Grissom in lingerie. Specifically silk panties with a bustier and fishnet stockings.
~*~*~*~
Nick felt like a very large cat had crawled into his mouth and died, after spitting up a couple of hairballs. Groaning, he tentatively slid to his feet and gingerly headed into the hallway. He felt like he was navigating the deck of a ship in the middle of a hurricane - all around him, the floor bucked and weaved, tilting this way and that. The stark white walls of his new house assaulted his eyes. He needed to shower. But first, he needed to find out who the hell was in his kitchen, cooking bacon and eggs. The heavy smell of the grease was making him nauseous.
Stumbling into the living room, he smiled when he saw Greg flaked out on the sofa and briefly wondered if he himself looked that green. Flaming Sambucas - never again!
Warrick was in the kitchen, and he looked up grinning when Nick wandered in. "Yo, bud. How you feeling?"
"I'd be feeling a hell of a lot better if the smell of bacon wasn't permeating my house. Have mercy, Warrick!"
Warrick grinned, "I thought you might be hungry - besides which, all the grease will help kill the hangover. You look like hell, man."
"Feel like hell," Nick offered weakly. "So - what happened?"
Warrick started laughing, "You and Greg got your asses kicked by Catherine and Sara, that's what happened, frat boy! Guess all those wild keg parties you told me about were figments of your imagination - you sure can't hold your drink, buddy."
"How did we get back to my place?"
"I drove. Grissom took the girls home. I tossed Greg on your sofa - didn't want him to be by himself in case he got sick - he was hammered man. I slept in your armchair."
Nick grimaced, "How much did I have to drink?"
"You managed about 10 shots. Greggo managed six. Catherine had you all beat, hands down. Christ, that woman can drink!" Warrick grinned, "She did fourteen shots, and she probably could have done more."
"At least she's suffering, then!" Nick remarked.
Warrick just laughed, "Cath? You think she's hungover? No way man - she has the best cure for hangovers known to man. I bet she's out with Sara right now, buying ladies underwear for you and Greg!"
Greg had woken up and stumbled into the kitchen by this point, his expression bleak as he sank into an empty chair. "You think they'll really make us do it?" he mumbled miserably.
"Would you have made them, if they lost?" Warrick responded. "You two - ya gotta learn to think before accepting any of Catherine's challenges - she's a lady who doesn't make a bet unless she's pretty confident she's gonna win."
Greg sighed. "Shit. Sara's gonna have a field day with this."
Nick grinned weakly, "No shit," he replied, before brightening noticeably, "but really - how bad can it be? It's only for three days - and it's just underwear."
"Famous last words, man," Warrick smiled, as he slid the greasy breakfast onto three separate plates, "Famous last words."
~*~*~*~
"You have got to be shitting me!" Nick growled, gingerly looking inside the plastic bag Sara had tossed at him upon entering the break room.
She just grinned at him, brown eyes snapping, "Do I look like I'm kidding? And this is only day one!"
Grissom, who had been sitting at the table doing the crossword puzzle tried to hide his amusement when Nick pulled out a skimpy pair of black thongs with a matching camisole. "Whoa - I have to wear this, too?"
"Absolutely. It's part of a matching set. Just be thankful that it's more like an undershirt than a bra - at least you won't have to put up with wires, and you can still wear those tight t-shirts you like so much without making anyone wonder about the excessive material underneath." Catherine's voice was cheerful as she walked into the break room, a dejected Greg in tow.
"At least your underwear actually HAS sides," Greg offered, in way of a greeting. "The girls got me vinyl tie-ones."
From the small two-seater, Warrick started laughing. "That's gonna be hot, man. You're gonna sweat your balls off!"
Nick scowled balefully at Warrick before turning to look at Catherine. She was having entirely too much fun. Sighing in exasperation, he rose to his feet and managed to grin at the women. "You two are evil."
"Damn straight," Catherine replied. "Now - go and change before shift actually starts."
"I cut the tags off for you already," Sara grinned, "so quit wasting time!"
~*~*~*~
"Hey - yours cover your ass!" Nick protested, eyeing Greg's bikini's.
Greg just snorted. "Listen, they're vinyl, they tie up the sides with orange strings, and they have this little number to go with them." Greg held up the bustier. "It has titcompartments!"
Nick held up his own camisole that tied up the front and scowled. "Grissom?" He turned to his boss who was studying a spider under the bench.
"Don't look at me, Nick. I'd be in big trouble if I commented on a subordinate's underwear or betting habits. As long as it doesn't interfere with your job, I can't say anything. I will, however, give you two pieces of free advice." Grissom stood and went to the door. "Number one, think long and hard about how you will never let something like this happen to you again, and two, if you are going to change, I suggest doing it quickly. Sara has an insatiably curious nature that may direct her in here to watch."
Greg looked at Nick after Grissom left the room. "We don't have to do this."
"Greg, Catherine is not above tying us down and forcing these things on us."
~*~*~*~
Nick found a new routine to his life. Take two steps, stop, try and get this thing out of his butt, take two more steps, adjust, three steps-whoa-a record!
"Nick!" Catherine sidled up to him, forcing him to try and walk like a man. He wasn't prepared to feel her hand on his ass, squeezing gently.
"What the hell. . ."
She winked. "Just making sure you're properly flossed."
With a flip of her hair, she was gone, leaving Nick to face a smirking Warrick from the layout room.
"Why didn't you-"
Warrick held up his hands. "I tried to, bro. I tried to tell you! You weren't listening. That Texas-sized macho man in your - uh - pants wouldn't let you stop. Now you have to suffer the consequences."
"You're just whipped by Catherine."
"At least she doesn't make me wear her underwear," with that, Warrick turned back to the evidence he had been looking at, leaving Nick to his new walk.
Four steps. . . doing better.
~*~*~*~
"Hi, Greg! How are you doing?"
Greg looked up from his microscope, wondering why he had even bothered putting on the offensive green garb Sara had brought him. It felt like he had nothing on at all! The underwear stopped just above the slight curve of his butt, the front didn't even pretend to hide his pubic hair and barely kept him in place. The only things he felt was the rubber elastic-how had Sara put it? Rubberized dental floss? That was exactly how it felt-and the hideous orange ties at his sides, digging into him.
The ties hit him where the leg holes of his usual briefs were. That was how low these things were.
How did women function in them?
"I'm great, Sara. Thanks for asking."
Sara walked behind him, noting how his baggy pants pulled away from the small of his back, revealing a nice look at his butt cleavage, and below that, very, very far below that, a line of the ugliest lime green she had ever laid eyes on.
"Pull up your pants, Greggy-poo. You have butt cleavage showing."
Greg scowled as he reached behind with one hand and pulled his pants up, feeling the itchy stitches in his jeans snaking against the soft, tender flesh of his derrière.
"Thanks for being so observant."
"That's what friends are for. How's the bustier feeling?"
Greg groaned inwardly. The tight green vinyl gave him different sensations on all sides. The length cut him just below his rib cage, making him feel as though he were as naked as Brittany Spears, the shoulder straps dug in any time he tried to pull it down, and the titcompartments, as he called them, were tight against his breasts, the vinyl made beads of sweat trickle down his chest, and the nylon on his back seemed to be covered with itching powder.
"It's kind of nice, actually. Thinking about wearing it every day."
With that, he went back to his slides.
Sara smiled with glee, and left him alone.
Wait until he saw the thong and teddy for tomorrow.
~*~*~*~
"Does everyone know about this?" Nick asked in the Tahoe.
Grissom had assigned the girls on one case and decided to take the boys with him on the other. He felt it was safer to keep everyone separated.
"Do you really think that Cath could keep it a secret?" Warrick asked.
Grissom smirked into the rearview at Warrick, catching the younger man's eye as he did so. Nick was just chagrined at their mutual delight over his torturous embarrassment.
"Watch out, Warrick. She'll probably want you in these next."
Grissom couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. He tried to cover it as a cough, but it was a pathetic attempt.
"Oh look. Here we are. Nicky, do you need any help?"
Nick gave a livid glare in Grissom's direction, than hopped out of the Tahoe, trying to ignore the tug of the thin piece of elastic in his crack.
"Properly flossed my ass," he mumbled balefully under his breath, then cursed again when he realized that that's *exactly* what he was.
"What was that? Warrick asked beside him.
"Nothing. Just stay the hell away from me."
He could feel them laughing at him. They may be silent, but he could feel their laughs on the back of his red-hot neck as he swished his butt, still trying to rid it of the Lone String.
"Hey, Nick!" Grissom called.
"What?"
"If you fart, it'll be 'Air on the G-String!'"
~*~*~*~
Working a crime scene had never been more uncomfortable. Grissom had assigned Nick to take the photos, and every time he squatted the damn thong gave him a wedgie. Warrick, who was nothing if not observant, went to great pains to point out every single piece of fluff - exhorting Nick to 'bend down and get close-ups.'
Nick didn't think it was that funny. A couple of the police officers still on the scene smirked at him when he walked by, his stride much shorter than normal. He had discovered that the smaller the steps he took, the less 'ride' in the underwear.
"Hey, Wong Foo - come here for a minute!" Even Brass was getting in on the action.
Nick just scowled at him, "Funny Brass. What do you want?"
"I was just wondering if you wanted some black licorice," Brass replied, before he joined the other men in peels of laughter.
"Ha ha. Funny."
Brass sniggered, "I thought so. Should I put some ABBA on for you? Give you some music to work by?"
"Hardy hardy har," Nick replied, but he had to smile. He knew he would have been mercilessly teasing the girls if their position had been reversed. "Listen, next time I'm possessed to make a bet against Catherine, somebody stop me - okay?"
~*~*~*~
He couldn't sit. He couldn't stand. The vinyl was driving him ape-shit. He had a million tests to run, and he was so busy trying to concentrate on not cutting the circulation off to his ho-hah, he was falling behind.
"Christ, these things are uncomfortable!" he muttered under his breath, as he once again raised a hand to the back of his seat and tried to adjust the underwear. It didn't cover his butt in any sense of the word, riding to either one cheek or the other. He was sure he had heat rash. Swearing under his breath, he gingerly propped his butt against a stool. The muscles in his buttocks were sore from the incessant clenching. Greg was afraid if he relaxed too much, the vinyl would slide up and he would have to have it removed professionally.
Archie walked into the lab, "Greg, man - how's it hanging/"
"It's not!" Greg muttered darkly, shifting to scowl at his amused friend, "As I'm sure you've already heard by now!"
Archie just grinned, "So - it's true then? You're wearing women's underwear?"
Greg just scowled, "I wouldn't laugh. I'm a man on the edge!"
"Of his seat," Archie teased.
Greg grunted, "You have anything useful to say, or did you just come to the lab to poke the monkey with a stick?"
"Actually, I needed your advice on something," Archie responded.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Greg smiled, "Well - okay then. What can I do for you?"
Archie smiled and whipped out a Victoria's Secret catalog, "I'm thinking of buying my girlfriend some lingerie for Christmas - what do you recommend?"
TBC
_________________________________________
AN, Zheidi: "Air on the G-String" was written by JS Bach, who is now presumably rolling around in his grave. Any offence given to either him or any of his family members is purely his own damn fault for having named a song after ladies underwear. Thank you.
Also, anyone interested in seeing 'Nicky, Queen of the Desert' and 'Grissom, the Sweet Transvestite' may do so by either e-mailing Zheidi at zambonigirl@cox.net. I warn you, it's not for the faint-at-heart, and, yes, I love Grissom and Nick, but you have to have fun in your life!
Michmak: It is so much fine writing a story with no plot - none! Well, I shouldn't say that - the sole purpose of this story is to get Nick and Greg into women's underwear - Nick in a thong.yummy! Now, we need a Greg picture - I'm thinking something lacy, racy and push-up! As far as the Grissom and Nick pictures - totally worth having to bleach your eyeballs after you're done viewing them. Nick looks good in eyeshadow.
As always - reviews are more than welcome - in fact, they make our day!
"Jeez, Cath! Aren't you hungover?" Sara asked into her phone, trying to shove down her feeling of dizzying nausea at having to sit up and think so quickly after having drank so much the night before.
"Oh - I'm used to the feeling. I know a great cure, I'll be over in a few minutes. Eddie has Lindsey for the rest of the afternoon, and we need to find the proper torture devices for our Nicky and his mascot."
Sara laughed. "Sounds good. Come on over."
~*~*~*~
"Wal-Mart?" Sara asked as Catherine pulled into a parking space.
"Girl, you don't even know the cheap-ass panties they have in here."
Sara opened her door and stepped out gingerly. "No, thank God, I don't."
Catherine smiled and led Sara back to the lingerie section. Sara immediately went to where the frilly underwear was hanging on tasteful display racks, organized according to size.
"Sara, honey? What are you doing?"
Sara looked up from the white lacy thong she was holding. "I'm. . ."
"No. Over here."
Sara's eyes grew big, then a slow smile spread across her face. In a forgotten corner there was a round three-tiered rack with bright purple, green, orange and pink blaring out through a mishmash of leopard print, black see-through and deep red.
"Hookers don't even wear this stuff," Sara mumbled as she tried to separate a string bikini from a thong.
"Yes they do. Why do you think they sell this stuff?" Catherine's eyes lit up as she spotted something that made her heart skip a beat. "We should have made the bet for five days instead of just three."
Sara held up a vinyl green camisole and panty set. The underwear was in bikini style, tied at the sides with orange ribbons. The legs were barely stretchy enough for a child, let alone Greg, and the back of the cami was made out of stretchy nylon, a sure itch-inducer.
"Greg. Day one," was all Sara said.
Catherine smirked and held up a leopard-print thong. "Greg, day two."
"Ooooohhhhhhh! Me like. And this," she held up a dark red velvet thong, "for Nick for day one."
"Day two. This is day one." Catherine smirked as she held up what she had been hiding behind her back.
The very brief black thong made Sara itch just looking at it. "What is that material?" she asked, reaching out a tentative hand to finger the thong.
Catherine snorted, "I don't know, but it looks like a weird mix of pleather and polyester lace. Hot and itchy! I can just see Nick squirming now!"
"And a matching stretchy camisole - too bad we couldn't get one of those feather boas and make him wear it, as well! I can see it now: Nicky - Queen of the Desert!" Sara started to giggle. "I've never had this much fun buying underwear before."
"Yeah, too bad we couldn't have gotten Griss and Warrick involved."
They both broke off into peals of laughter at the thought of Grissom in lingerie. Specifically silk panties with a bustier and fishnet stockings.
~*~*~*~
Nick felt like a very large cat had crawled into his mouth and died, after spitting up a couple of hairballs. Groaning, he tentatively slid to his feet and gingerly headed into the hallway. He felt like he was navigating the deck of a ship in the middle of a hurricane - all around him, the floor bucked and weaved, tilting this way and that. The stark white walls of his new house assaulted his eyes. He needed to shower. But first, he needed to find out who the hell was in his kitchen, cooking bacon and eggs. The heavy smell of the grease was making him nauseous.
Stumbling into the living room, he smiled when he saw Greg flaked out on the sofa and briefly wondered if he himself looked that green. Flaming Sambucas - never again!
Warrick was in the kitchen, and he looked up grinning when Nick wandered in. "Yo, bud. How you feeling?"
"I'd be feeling a hell of a lot better if the smell of bacon wasn't permeating my house. Have mercy, Warrick!"
Warrick grinned, "I thought you might be hungry - besides which, all the grease will help kill the hangover. You look like hell, man."
"Feel like hell," Nick offered weakly. "So - what happened?"
Warrick started laughing, "You and Greg got your asses kicked by Catherine and Sara, that's what happened, frat boy! Guess all those wild keg parties you told me about were figments of your imagination - you sure can't hold your drink, buddy."
"How did we get back to my place?"
"I drove. Grissom took the girls home. I tossed Greg on your sofa - didn't want him to be by himself in case he got sick - he was hammered man. I slept in your armchair."
Nick grimaced, "How much did I have to drink?"
"You managed about 10 shots. Greggo managed six. Catherine had you all beat, hands down. Christ, that woman can drink!" Warrick grinned, "She did fourteen shots, and she probably could have done more."
"At least she's suffering, then!" Nick remarked.
Warrick just laughed, "Cath? You think she's hungover? No way man - she has the best cure for hangovers known to man. I bet she's out with Sara right now, buying ladies underwear for you and Greg!"
Greg had woken up and stumbled into the kitchen by this point, his expression bleak as he sank into an empty chair. "You think they'll really make us do it?" he mumbled miserably.
"Would you have made them, if they lost?" Warrick responded. "You two - ya gotta learn to think before accepting any of Catherine's challenges - she's a lady who doesn't make a bet unless she's pretty confident she's gonna win."
Greg sighed. "Shit. Sara's gonna have a field day with this."
Nick grinned weakly, "No shit," he replied, before brightening noticeably, "but really - how bad can it be? It's only for three days - and it's just underwear."
"Famous last words, man," Warrick smiled, as he slid the greasy breakfast onto three separate plates, "Famous last words."
~*~*~*~
"You have got to be shitting me!" Nick growled, gingerly looking inside the plastic bag Sara had tossed at him upon entering the break room.
She just grinned at him, brown eyes snapping, "Do I look like I'm kidding? And this is only day one!"
Grissom, who had been sitting at the table doing the crossword puzzle tried to hide his amusement when Nick pulled out a skimpy pair of black thongs with a matching camisole. "Whoa - I have to wear this, too?"
"Absolutely. It's part of a matching set. Just be thankful that it's more like an undershirt than a bra - at least you won't have to put up with wires, and you can still wear those tight t-shirts you like so much without making anyone wonder about the excessive material underneath." Catherine's voice was cheerful as she walked into the break room, a dejected Greg in tow.
"At least your underwear actually HAS sides," Greg offered, in way of a greeting. "The girls got me vinyl tie-ones."
From the small two-seater, Warrick started laughing. "That's gonna be hot, man. You're gonna sweat your balls off!"
Nick scowled balefully at Warrick before turning to look at Catherine. She was having entirely too much fun. Sighing in exasperation, he rose to his feet and managed to grin at the women. "You two are evil."
"Damn straight," Catherine replied. "Now - go and change before shift actually starts."
"I cut the tags off for you already," Sara grinned, "so quit wasting time!"
~*~*~*~
"Hey - yours cover your ass!" Nick protested, eyeing Greg's bikini's.
Greg just snorted. "Listen, they're vinyl, they tie up the sides with orange strings, and they have this little number to go with them." Greg held up the bustier. "It has titcompartments!"
Nick held up his own camisole that tied up the front and scowled. "Grissom?" He turned to his boss who was studying a spider under the bench.
"Don't look at me, Nick. I'd be in big trouble if I commented on a subordinate's underwear or betting habits. As long as it doesn't interfere with your job, I can't say anything. I will, however, give you two pieces of free advice." Grissom stood and went to the door. "Number one, think long and hard about how you will never let something like this happen to you again, and two, if you are going to change, I suggest doing it quickly. Sara has an insatiably curious nature that may direct her in here to watch."
Greg looked at Nick after Grissom left the room. "We don't have to do this."
"Greg, Catherine is not above tying us down and forcing these things on us."
~*~*~*~
Nick found a new routine to his life. Take two steps, stop, try and get this thing out of his butt, take two more steps, adjust, three steps-whoa-a record!
"Nick!" Catherine sidled up to him, forcing him to try and walk like a man. He wasn't prepared to feel her hand on his ass, squeezing gently.
"What the hell. . ."
She winked. "Just making sure you're properly flossed."
With a flip of her hair, she was gone, leaving Nick to face a smirking Warrick from the layout room.
"Why didn't you-"
Warrick held up his hands. "I tried to, bro. I tried to tell you! You weren't listening. That Texas-sized macho man in your - uh - pants wouldn't let you stop. Now you have to suffer the consequences."
"You're just whipped by Catherine."
"At least she doesn't make me wear her underwear," with that, Warrick turned back to the evidence he had been looking at, leaving Nick to his new walk.
Four steps. . . doing better.
~*~*~*~
"Hi, Greg! How are you doing?"
Greg looked up from his microscope, wondering why he had even bothered putting on the offensive green garb Sara had brought him. It felt like he had nothing on at all! The underwear stopped just above the slight curve of his butt, the front didn't even pretend to hide his pubic hair and barely kept him in place. The only things he felt was the rubber elastic-how had Sara put it? Rubberized dental floss? That was exactly how it felt-and the hideous orange ties at his sides, digging into him.
The ties hit him where the leg holes of his usual briefs were. That was how low these things were.
How did women function in them?
"I'm great, Sara. Thanks for asking."
Sara walked behind him, noting how his baggy pants pulled away from the small of his back, revealing a nice look at his butt cleavage, and below that, very, very far below that, a line of the ugliest lime green she had ever laid eyes on.
"Pull up your pants, Greggy-poo. You have butt cleavage showing."
Greg scowled as he reached behind with one hand and pulled his pants up, feeling the itchy stitches in his jeans snaking against the soft, tender flesh of his derrière.
"Thanks for being so observant."
"That's what friends are for. How's the bustier feeling?"
Greg groaned inwardly. The tight green vinyl gave him different sensations on all sides. The length cut him just below his rib cage, making him feel as though he were as naked as Brittany Spears, the shoulder straps dug in any time he tried to pull it down, and the titcompartments, as he called them, were tight against his breasts, the vinyl made beads of sweat trickle down his chest, and the nylon on his back seemed to be covered with itching powder.
"It's kind of nice, actually. Thinking about wearing it every day."
With that, he went back to his slides.
Sara smiled with glee, and left him alone.
Wait until he saw the thong and teddy for tomorrow.
~*~*~*~
"Does everyone know about this?" Nick asked in the Tahoe.
Grissom had assigned the girls on one case and decided to take the boys with him on the other. He felt it was safer to keep everyone separated.
"Do you really think that Cath could keep it a secret?" Warrick asked.
Grissom smirked into the rearview at Warrick, catching the younger man's eye as he did so. Nick was just chagrined at their mutual delight over his torturous embarrassment.
"Watch out, Warrick. She'll probably want you in these next."
Grissom couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. He tried to cover it as a cough, but it was a pathetic attempt.
"Oh look. Here we are. Nicky, do you need any help?"
Nick gave a livid glare in Grissom's direction, than hopped out of the Tahoe, trying to ignore the tug of the thin piece of elastic in his crack.
"Properly flossed my ass," he mumbled balefully under his breath, then cursed again when he realized that that's *exactly* what he was.
"What was that? Warrick asked beside him.
"Nothing. Just stay the hell away from me."
He could feel them laughing at him. They may be silent, but he could feel their laughs on the back of his red-hot neck as he swished his butt, still trying to rid it of the Lone String.
"Hey, Nick!" Grissom called.
"What?"
"If you fart, it'll be 'Air on the G-String!'"
~*~*~*~
Working a crime scene had never been more uncomfortable. Grissom had assigned Nick to take the photos, and every time he squatted the damn thong gave him a wedgie. Warrick, who was nothing if not observant, went to great pains to point out every single piece of fluff - exhorting Nick to 'bend down and get close-ups.'
Nick didn't think it was that funny. A couple of the police officers still on the scene smirked at him when he walked by, his stride much shorter than normal. He had discovered that the smaller the steps he took, the less 'ride' in the underwear.
"Hey, Wong Foo - come here for a minute!" Even Brass was getting in on the action.
Nick just scowled at him, "Funny Brass. What do you want?"
"I was just wondering if you wanted some black licorice," Brass replied, before he joined the other men in peels of laughter.
"Ha ha. Funny."
Brass sniggered, "I thought so. Should I put some ABBA on for you? Give you some music to work by?"
"Hardy hardy har," Nick replied, but he had to smile. He knew he would have been mercilessly teasing the girls if their position had been reversed. "Listen, next time I'm possessed to make a bet against Catherine, somebody stop me - okay?"
~*~*~*~
He couldn't sit. He couldn't stand. The vinyl was driving him ape-shit. He had a million tests to run, and he was so busy trying to concentrate on not cutting the circulation off to his ho-hah, he was falling behind.
"Christ, these things are uncomfortable!" he muttered under his breath, as he once again raised a hand to the back of his seat and tried to adjust the underwear. It didn't cover his butt in any sense of the word, riding to either one cheek or the other. He was sure he had heat rash. Swearing under his breath, he gingerly propped his butt against a stool. The muscles in his buttocks were sore from the incessant clenching. Greg was afraid if he relaxed too much, the vinyl would slide up and he would have to have it removed professionally.
Archie walked into the lab, "Greg, man - how's it hanging/"
"It's not!" Greg muttered darkly, shifting to scowl at his amused friend, "As I'm sure you've already heard by now!"
Archie just grinned, "So - it's true then? You're wearing women's underwear?"
Greg just scowled, "I wouldn't laugh. I'm a man on the edge!"
"Of his seat," Archie teased.
Greg grunted, "You have anything useful to say, or did you just come to the lab to poke the monkey with a stick?"
"Actually, I needed your advice on something," Archie responded.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Greg smiled, "Well - okay then. What can I do for you?"
Archie smiled and whipped out a Victoria's Secret catalog, "I'm thinking of buying my girlfriend some lingerie for Christmas - what do you recommend?"
TBC
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AN, Zheidi: "Air on the G-String" was written by JS Bach, who is now presumably rolling around in his grave. Any offence given to either him or any of his family members is purely his own damn fault for having named a song after ladies underwear. Thank you.
Also, anyone interested in seeing 'Nicky, Queen of the Desert' and 'Grissom, the Sweet Transvestite' may do so by either e-mailing Zheidi at zambonigirl@cox.net. I warn you, it's not for the faint-at-heart, and, yes, I love Grissom and Nick, but you have to have fun in your life!
Michmak: It is so much fine writing a story with no plot - none! Well, I shouldn't say that - the sole purpose of this story is to get Nick and Greg into women's underwear - Nick in a thong.yummy! Now, we need a Greg picture - I'm thinking something lacy, racy and push-up! As far as the Grissom and Nick pictures - totally worth having to bleach your eyeballs after you're done viewing them. Nick looks good in eyeshadow.
As always - reviews are more than welcome - in fact, they make our day!