Sara saw the lips coming towards her, so shiny and full they reminded her
of a rubber ball, ready to hit her and bounce away.
The lips rushed towards her, landing on her own and completely destroying her rubber ball theory. They were warm and soft and pliant, waiting for her to take them over. She could smell the person that they belonged to - a scent of vanilla and a dash of cherries, a distinctive combination.
Sara flew back, startled. This woman, this random woman, who had floated up to her so softly as the countdown to a new year had begun, who had captivated her with her lips, smelled like Catherine.
That would be Catherine Willows, divorced single mother, senior CSI, former exotic dancer, currently the unaware holder of Sara's heart.
And this woman smelled like her, had her fragrance. And now that Sara could see her face, kinda looked like her. Sara shook her head, as if to negate the effects of the alcohol she had consumed over the past five hours.
A hand caught her, as she started to fall, and lowered her gently into a chair. This was all wrong, Sara thought. She had come to this club - after starting herself off with some vodkas - to get away from the visions of Catherine that haunted her while she was in her apartment. Not to be plagued by Catherine look-alikes.
"Sara, are you alright?" came a gentle, feminine voice.
Or by Catherine herself.
"Oh God. Cath, is that you?" Sara groaned, disbelieving.
"The one and only," Cath said. "Are you okay?"
Sara sat and shook her head. This was not how the evening was supposed to turn our. "I'll be fine. Maybe I'll even forget about this in the morning" She didn't care if she was being rude - she was drunk. She had a right and an excuse.
Sara got up and started leaving the club, pushing between all the partiers. Then it hit her - those had been Catherine's lips, on her, warm and pliant and waiting for her to take them over.
Oh god. This night was just getting better and better.
Catherine caught up with Sara just as she was getting into her car. "You can't drive," she said firmly, taking the keys from Sara's hand and sliding herself into the driver side of the car.
"I need my car tomorrow," Sara said mournfully. She had always been a sad drunk.
"I'll sleep on your couch, it'll be fine. Where do you live?" Catherine seemed to know what to do with a drunk, must have come from Eddie.
So Catherine drove Sara home, turning through the empty streets. She finally reached Sara's apartment - a nice place near the strip. Not a bad view, Catherine thought, as she dragged Sara across her living room into what she thought was her bedroom.
Suddenly, Sara said something, just as Catherine was leaving. "I'm gonna spend all year drunk with you, ya know that?" She didn't sound drunk, but her words did.
"Why's that?"
"Because how you spend New Years is how you spend the rest of the year!" Sara rolled over and fell asleep, snoring louder than Catherine thought possible.
As Catherine made up the sofa bed, she tried not to think about what Sara had said. She was drunk and tired and didn't know what she was saying. At least that was what Catherine told herself.
But in the next room, Sara was lying perfectly still in her bed, trying to memorize the feel of Catherine's lips, the image of Catherine tucking her into a bed, hoping she wouldn't forget anything in the morning.
Not a bad way to spend the next year, except for the headaches, of course.
The lips rushed towards her, landing on her own and completely destroying her rubber ball theory. They were warm and soft and pliant, waiting for her to take them over. She could smell the person that they belonged to - a scent of vanilla and a dash of cherries, a distinctive combination.
Sara flew back, startled. This woman, this random woman, who had floated up to her so softly as the countdown to a new year had begun, who had captivated her with her lips, smelled like Catherine.
That would be Catherine Willows, divorced single mother, senior CSI, former exotic dancer, currently the unaware holder of Sara's heart.
And this woman smelled like her, had her fragrance. And now that Sara could see her face, kinda looked like her. Sara shook her head, as if to negate the effects of the alcohol she had consumed over the past five hours.
A hand caught her, as she started to fall, and lowered her gently into a chair. This was all wrong, Sara thought. She had come to this club - after starting herself off with some vodkas - to get away from the visions of Catherine that haunted her while she was in her apartment. Not to be plagued by Catherine look-alikes.
"Sara, are you alright?" came a gentle, feminine voice.
Or by Catherine herself.
"Oh God. Cath, is that you?" Sara groaned, disbelieving.
"The one and only," Cath said. "Are you okay?"
Sara sat and shook her head. This was not how the evening was supposed to turn our. "I'll be fine. Maybe I'll even forget about this in the morning" She didn't care if she was being rude - she was drunk. She had a right and an excuse.
Sara got up and started leaving the club, pushing between all the partiers. Then it hit her - those had been Catherine's lips, on her, warm and pliant and waiting for her to take them over.
Oh god. This night was just getting better and better.
Catherine caught up with Sara just as she was getting into her car. "You can't drive," she said firmly, taking the keys from Sara's hand and sliding herself into the driver side of the car.
"I need my car tomorrow," Sara said mournfully. She had always been a sad drunk.
"I'll sleep on your couch, it'll be fine. Where do you live?" Catherine seemed to know what to do with a drunk, must have come from Eddie.
So Catherine drove Sara home, turning through the empty streets. She finally reached Sara's apartment - a nice place near the strip. Not a bad view, Catherine thought, as she dragged Sara across her living room into what she thought was her bedroom.
Suddenly, Sara said something, just as Catherine was leaving. "I'm gonna spend all year drunk with you, ya know that?" She didn't sound drunk, but her words did.
"Why's that?"
"Because how you spend New Years is how you spend the rest of the year!" Sara rolled over and fell asleep, snoring louder than Catherine thought possible.
As Catherine made up the sofa bed, she tried not to think about what Sara had said. She was drunk and tired and didn't know what she was saying. At least that was what Catherine told herself.
But in the next room, Sara was lying perfectly still in her bed, trying to memorize the feel of Catherine's lips, the image of Catherine tucking her into a bed, hoping she wouldn't forget anything in the morning.
Not a bad way to spend the next year, except for the headaches, of course.