A/N: This is an AU story that sprung to mind when watching the CSI episode "The Two Mrs. Grissom's." This is a GSR story but it's a bumpy one.
Pairings: Gil/Sara. There are references of past-Gil/Julia Holden and Gil/Teri Miller, and brief-Gil/Heather (I'm going to get hate, but I don't care, it's my story.)
Warnings: M rating, infidelity (kind-of), adult sexual content, adult situations, toxic relationships, bondage and rough sex play (in parts), bad language, addiction issues, violence, drug and alcohol usage, and smoking.
Summary: Everyone has secrets. Gil Grissom is no exception. He's been living with his for decades. Then it all starts to unravel when he becomes the prime suspect in a woman's disappearance.
Ch.1
2000
"Such a pretty baby. Yes, you are. Pretty, pretty baby."
She stopped mid stroke painting her fingernails a fiery shade of red to glance over her shoulder to watch as her lover petted and talked to her orange tabby cat Norma Jean—as in Marilyn Monroe. Her lover was shirtless, sockless, but not pant-less despite his zipper being down and belt missing. He was propped up in bed by a couple of pillows as Norma Jean curled into his lap. In all the years that she's known the man, she only heard him talk like that to her feline companion.
They met four years ago when she walked into the Chemistry 205 lecture hall and spotted a man who wasn't Professor Chambers. Chambers had a family emergency and in his place was another man. He had dark curly hair and didn't wear a suit like Chambers always did. Instead, he wore a buttoned-down flannel dress shirt and khakis, cuffs rolled up to his forearms. He introduced himself as Dr. Gil Grissom. He was from Las Vegas.
Truth be told, Dr. Grissom was hot. He was a forensic entomologist, which was perfect because her area of interest was forensics. Why he was guest lecturing a Chemistry class in San Francisco, she had no idea, but the man gave them all a run for their money when he proved that he belonged there when he asked to be given an equation.
"All right. You think I need to prove my worth? Give me an equation."
When no one gave him one. She cleared her throat and called one out.
C3H8 O2 — CO2 H2O
Dr. Grissom turned his sharp blue eyes her way, smiled slightly, and turned around to the whiteboard and wrote it down while saying, "In chemistry, a balanced equation is an equation that represents a chemical reaction where mass and charge are balanced on both sides of the reaction. Mass is neither created nor destroyed." She watched as Grissom quickly went through the process of solving the equation as he explained, "As you all should know by now, in a balanced equation, there should be the same number of atoms on both sides of it. There are no rules that explain how you get a balanced reaction from expression. First, start on the molecule or compound that is the most atomically complex…" Less than a minute later, it was solved. He dropped the dry erase marker as he turned back to the class, to her, and asked, "Did I pass, Miss…?"
"Sidle. And it's Sara." She smiled and told him, "You get an A."
"I hold several degrees. Chemistry's one of them. Professor Chambers is a friend. Until he comes back, you're stuck with me. I have an office here and my door is always open."
Even though he said that last part to everyone in the room, she had a feeling it was actually directed her way.
Refocusing on what she was doing, she said, "You know, if you talk to me like that, I'll purr in your lap all night too."
Gil didn't take his eyes or hands off her cat as he said, "I don't have to talk to you like this to get you to purr in my lap. Norma Jean makes me earn it."
"That's what I need to do, play hard to get?"
She felt Gil's hand on her back. The hand was warm but calloused and scarred from years of working his job. It rubbed up her bristling skin to her neck where it lightly rubbed and massaged the muscles. It felt good.
Then the hand grabbed her and pulled her back as she felt Gil's lips on her ear. "You do that, I won't be able to call you my good girl, now would I?" She felt her body shiver as a kiss was placed on her neck where he'd grabbed it.
When she had decided to transfer to Las Vegas after she'd been invited down to conduct the investigation into Warrick's gambling during a shooting involving a CSI, she hadn't known what to expect. Would he even still want her? She had no idea but then she saw his smile when he turned around and spotted her for the first time since he left San Francisco. There was no denying the love she saw behind his blue eyes.
Her heart thumped in her chest at his smile. It was beautiful. He was beautiful, but she also knew he was a bachelor. A well-known bachelor if one could believe the rumor mills. He was also a flirt, she could tell. The man knew he had a way with women, and he didn't mind using it to his advantage. Being an entomologist, and working nights, didn't make him high on anyone's list of men to date, except for hers.
She thought the transfer request was a bad idea, especially when he was up to become the new night shift supervisor. That only lasted a month as Catherine Willows was put in charge over him. Then he showed up on her doorstep one morning. She opened the door and let him in. Their "meetings", as he would call them, over the course of the last couple of months had grown from once every two weeks to about two times a week.
He also held true to the rules he told her all those years ago. They never dated. They sometimes ate breakfast together, but that hardly ever happened because Gil was up at like two in the afternoon even if he'd drank a pint of whiskey the morning before. There were no dinner invitations and Gil hardly ever cooked for her. She knew Gil wasn't completely insensitive. It was that he never went out of his way to include anyone else in his life. He told her so. He also only expected one thing from her, which was to have sex.
Anything more was a relationship, and Gil did not do relationships. He did not fall in love.
"Why not?"
Dr. Grissom didn't look up from the desk where he was sitting, grading term papers, as he said, "The work I do, my life…I have no room for it."
"Can't you make room if you were in love?"
He stilled. Then blue eyes lifted up as he told her very sternly, "I don't fall in love, Sara."
Four years should have been a long time to get to know someone, that wasn't the case with someone as emotionally unavailable as Gil. His emotional detachment was more than what he had to do in order to do his job effectively. He said he saw a lot of dead bodies and in order to do his work he couldn't get emotionally involved. But it was more than that. It wasn't just with the job.
The only time Gil wasn't closed off was when they were behind closed doors. His home was his sanctuary, he had said. And it was to remain private. Everything in his life was to remain private. She wasn't allowed to talk about him or what they did to anyone. She never went to his sanctuary. They always met at her apartment.
Being at the beck-and-call of someone who said that they didn't fall in love, and gave rules which included no dating, she figured that a normal person would have left. She didn't want to leave him because she knew what it was that he really needed from her. And she knew what she needed from Gil.
She didn't need a date. She didn't need a deep conversation about hopes and dreams. She had told Gil exactly what she needed in San Francisco. It was exactly what they were doing right then and there.
"Are you okay with that?" Grissom asked as he went back to grading term papers.
Her hands were sweaty, but they were steady. The man made her nervous. She'd been attracted to him the moment she laid eyes on him. She was also still a virgin despite being in graduate school. She just never dated or met the right person. She didn't want just some guy, some boy like her who was uncertain and a little scared and inexperienced. She wanted a man. She wanted Dr. Gil Grissom.
"I don't need love. I need to be able to be me when I'm with you."
There was genuine understanding and acceptance in Grissom's eyes. She had impressed him.
That was what they both needed. They were just being themselves. In her home, they were free to do anything. All self-control gone. Purely uninhibited and wild like the sex they had.
She heard the sound of the whiskey bottle being picked up and looked back to see Gil take a sip before putting it back down next to her wine bottle. He didn't smoke in the apartment but there was an unopened pack on the nightstand for when he finally pulled himself up to go out onto the balcony that was off the bedroom. Which was exactly what he did just then as he moved her cat aside and stood, grabbed the cigarettes, and then went outside.
The outside wall were floor-to-ceiling windows with a door that opens out onto the balcony. With the blinds up all the way, she could see over all the other buildings towards the Las Vegas strip. The skyline was all lit up in lights. It was an amazing view and the reason she bought the apartment in the first place.
As she watched Gil through the blinds, she thought about their first time together in San Francisco when she learned what was expected of their time together. It was also when she accepted this relationship.
"This is a really nice car."
Grissom only smiled a little before pulling away from the curb. He'd picked her up in a 1979 Mercedes Benz convertible, which was not a rental, on the corner of the inconspicuous neighborhood near her apartment.
"So, where are we going?" When he didn't answer, her hands started to shake a little. "Secretive type, huh?" She spotted a hint of a smirk on Grissom's face and smiled.
"I'm…just thinking," he finally told her as he took a right turn at the light. "I'm staying at a hotel not too far from campus."
They were going to his hotel room. No dinner first, or maybe they'd get something afterwards. There was always room service. She reached out and touched Grissom's hair and neck. When he didn't pull away or tell her to stop, she kept her hand on the back of his neck and rubbed along his hairline. Letting out a breath, she tried to relax.
He pulled the car into the parking lot of a liquor store. "Stay here." He got out and walked inside.
It took him four minutes to come back outside with a brown paper bag and something he'd slipped into his jeans pocket. In those four minutes she found something interesting in his glove compartment besides a gun and police radio. She found a wedding ring. Seeing Grissom walking toward the car, she hurriedly put it back.
Once Grissom got back into the car, they continued their drive. She looked at his left hand and didn't see a tan line. If he was married, he didn't wear the ring often. Maybe he used to be married? Then she asked herself if it mattered. They were both adults, she knew exactly what this was—an affair no matter which way she looked at it—and she was fine with it. It was actually kinda exhilarating. What if they were caught? She felt a stirring in her stomach as her anticipation grew along with the fear that shook through her body.
Just breathe, Sidle, she tried to calm herself. She wanted this. She wanted him badly. Her desire ached in her gut and yet she still felt terrified. Deeply afraid because of all the "what ifs" in her head. What if she disappointed Grissom by not being good enough?
After a few more turns in the car, they ended up at the hotel where he was staying. He parked, grabbed the bottle out of the brown paper bag—a pint of whiskey—and then opened the door. She got out and followed behind him without either of them saying a word. They made their way up to his floor and down the long hallway to the hotel room.
Once inside, she pointed to the bathroom, "I'm going to use the restroom first."
He gave a nod and she hurried into the bathroom and closed the door. Standing in front of the sink, she turned on the hot water and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked nervous. She had to close her eyes and take a deep breath in order to gather the courage to go ahead and go through with it. She knew what this was. It was sex and it was purposeful. This wasn't after a date or spur of the moment. They were meeting specifically to have sex.
Once she opened her eyes, she grabbed the washcloth and soap. She was sweating and wanted to get herself refreshed and cleaned up. She had most of her clothes off when the door opened.
Grissom stood in the doorway, dress shirt unbuttoned exposing his bare chest, as his dark eyes roamed over her body and stopped on the lacey underwear and bra. He didn't say anything before moving away from the door.
Walking out of the bathroom, she stepped into the room and spotted the whiskey bottle and cigarettes on the nightstand along with condoms. She felt a tension gather in her chest and stomach tightening and twisting with nervousness and anticipation.
He stood in front of her; his eyes flicking up and down her body. She licked her dry lips and went to speak when he cut her off, "Sara, have you had sex before?"
"Sure, plenty of times." Was that her voice shaky?
He noticed. "Tell me the truth," he nearly demanded.
"I-I, uh…" It took a lot for her to work up the courage, but she finally said, "No, I've never…Is that—"
A hand touched her face, lifting it up until their eyes met. Through the darkness in Grissom's eyes, she saw a softness that helped to ease the fear that had tightened in her chest. A thumb moved over her lips and into her mouth. She didn't hesitate as she sucked it between her lips and ran her tongue over it. The way Gil was observing her, watching how she responded, as if he found her suddenly fascinating, should have unnerved her but it didn't. He moved his hand away from her mouth and grabbed her neck.
Her eyes went to her hands, her fingertips that were painted a light shade of purple as she looked away. "Don't."
She swallowed the fear as she looked back into his eyes. She'd told him what she needed in his office. She didn't want to be judged. She was inexperienced and yeah, naive, probably, but she knew what she wanted. She knew what she was doing. It was completely consensual. So, why was she so nervous? Why was she starting to get so angry?
Grissom's hand rubbed at her neck. Inches away she could feel his body heat and smell his scent. Reaching out, she touched his chest, feeling his warm skin and hair under her palm. Taking her hand in his, he moved it down his body. The closer it got to his waistband she started shaking.
He leaned forward, brushing his lips across her left cheek before speaking into her ear, "Are you afraid of me?"
"No," she said as she tried to stop her body from quivering. Nervous, yes. Afraid, no. She wasn't afraid. Was she? Ducking her head away, Grissom moved his hand up from her neck to her chin as he tilted her head back.
"You're intimidated. You're angry. Why?"
He placed his lips on hers and kissed them so softly she barely felt it, but it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done. Closing her eyes, she fought the wave of arousal that shot through her as Grissom continued to kiss over her mouth and then down to her neck.
She stood with her eyes shut tight and willed her body to stay still. A hot breath was on her chest as he kissed over it. She nearly choked on her own breath as she fought back a groan. Her body was still shaking, hands trembled, and it was getting hard to breathe.
Pinning her back into the wall, he removed his hands off her body and placed them against the wall as he leaned his body into hers. Chest against chest and her knees nearly buckled. "Where does it come from?" he was saying into her ear. His hot breath sent a shiver down her spine. "Why is all that fear, all that intimidation, all that anger building up inside?"
Her heart was pounding in her chest as Grissom placed a kiss on her jaw. Anticipation filled her chest, sending heat all over her body. The heat between them was making her start to sweat. Lifting her head, she stared into his eyes. They were deep and dark, heavy with desire. She had to look away.
Tilting his head to catch her eyes, Grissom forced her to look at him as he said, "Do you ever think about why you always feel so angry, Sara?"
"What'd you know about my anger?"
A hand dropped down to her waist. Their breathing was getting heavier as she felt the slightest of fingers press against her waist. The quivering in her stomach muscles jerked under the touch. Smoothing his hand around to the small of her back, he pulled her forward, closer, and she felt how hard he was through his pants. "I know that you don't have to feel that way."
She nearly laughed as she leaned her head back against the wall as she turned her head away from Grissom again. A kiss was placed on her chin, jaw, and exposed neck.
"In my office, you nearly propositioned yourself to me. I was impressed. I finally have you here, and you get shy with me. Ashamed. You can't meet my eyes, and inside, you're scared but under all that fear is anger. You're angry with yourself for wanting this. You don't think you deserve anything good."
She suddenly felt tears start to sting her eyes. Damn it! Why was she about to cry? Was it because Grissom was right. She did feel weak, and afraid, but also angry. She was so angry. She'd been so flirtatious and confident but the moment she got what she wanted; she couldn't stop shaking long enough to kiss the man.
"What're you afraid of?" he asked again as he tilted his head to catch her eyes "That I'd judge you, or that I'll have sex you and then tell you to leave?" When she tilted her head the other way, he was right there with her. Grissom wasn't going to let her not face this; not face him. "You do feel angry, don't you?"
"I'm not angry," she said quickly, harshly. Maybe a little too quickly. She closed her eyes and shook her head in anger at herself. She was lying and he knew it.
He was married or could have an ex-wife. Was she okay being the other woman? What made her angry was that the answer was yes. She was okay with it because she wanted him. It didn't matter. She didn't care.
Grissom reached up, gripped her chin, and tilted her head back so he could see her face. He shook his head, silently telling her not to do that. As he dropped his hand back down to her waist, he moved against her and incited a moan as she felt the friction between her legs. "When was the last time you felt accepted?"
A shiver ran through her body, tears pricked her eyes, as she tried to think of a time when she was accepted. Never in school. She always sat alone, kept to herself, never had a friend. It was lonely. She learned a long time ago to deal with loneliness and isolation.
"Have you ever felt at home anywhere? In someone's arms?" He dropped his other hand, the one that had been holding her against the wall this whole time, and placed it on her other hip. "Have you ever felt safe?" His hands moved around to her back as his fingers spread out over her sweaty skin, his palms pressing into her back as he pulled her in closer still as he pushed into her.
Grissom was waiting on an answer. She gave him one. "Never," she said as a tear broke.
He kissed her right cheek where the tear had fallen. Pulling back, he said, "And that's what's making you afraid. It's why you feel so angry, deep down."
"How—?"
He tilted his head back so he could look her in the eyes as he told her, "I feel that way too. And I don't want you to have to feel that way when you're with me." His eyes were on hers, and then her mouth, as he said, "Are you going to kiss me now?"
She reached up, grabbed him behind the neck, and kissed him so hard against his lips that she thought she'd leave a bruise.
His kisses went to her chest. He kept going lower until he was on his knees in front of her. Grissom's mouth was licking her through the thin fabric of the silky lace of her panties. His mouth was all over her until she came, breathless and gasping. It was incredible. She'd never experienced anything like that before in her life. She wanted more. She wanted him inside her. She was aching for it.
Capturing her mouth in a hot wet kiss, he pulled her away from the wall, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed her firmly against his body as his hands moved over her sensitive skin. She felt like she was melting right into his body. Hands turned her and then pushed her down to sit on the bed. Her face was inches away from Grissom's stomach as he undid the belt on his pants before pulling down his zipper.
He reached out and ran his thumb over her lips and into her mouth. Gently, he opened her jaw, making it wider. The implication was clear. "Take your time."
As she slowly pleased him, he told her, "That's a good girl."
Grissom's words were like fuel on the fire. And those blue eyes never once left her as a hand ran through her hair and gripped it tight. Several long minutes later, he pulled out and asked, "Are you up for a game?"
She nodded as she spoke, a little unsure, "Yeah," because she had no idea what kind of game, but she was willing to try anything.
"The rules are you don't touch me, or yourself, and you can't say a word. You still want to play? You can say no, Sara. You can also say stop at any time, and I will stop."
She felt the fear in her gut again but pushed it down as she nodded without speaking.
"Quick learner," he said as he ran his hand through her hair. "Now, be a good girl, and get on your hands and knees."
She did as she was told and turned around on the bed. A hand slapped her ass, catching her by surprise and she nearly screamed out but held it in. She couldn't say a word. A soft caress smoothed over the spot where she'd been smacked; she moaned. Moaning wasn't speaking. She could moan, and groan, and she did a lot of it as she felt lips and a warm wet tongue on her back, the back of her thighs, and then a thumb moved away the thin fabric of her panties from her—
"Oh, fuck," she gasped and quivered as she felt his wet tongue—
A hard sharp smack stung her backside, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming out. She wanted to apologize for speaking but that would have been speaking. Letting out a deep breath, she waited as a hand caressed over the pain from the smack as if to apologize. Though, she had to admit it had felt good. The pain and then the soft caresses was sending her further into the aching burning fire that was slowly consuming her. This was torture. God, she was aching desperately now. It was pulsing all the down.
She felt Grissom move off the bed for a split second before he was back. The sight of something coming over her head startled her. She jerked back as she felt the fabric of the silk scarf on her face and then between her lips and teeth.
Grissom's voice was in her ear as he told her, "This is what happens when you break a rule."
She huffed out a breath against the scarf that kept her from speaking as she felt his hand on her back as he pushed her forward until she was resting on her chest, face against the mattress. Then his lips and tongue returned to her back, her legs, and then her center, making her squirm against the sensation that rippled throughout her body. She never felt anything as good as this before in her life. Hands grip her hips before she was filled completely for the first time. She tried not to choke on a sob as tears threatened to fill her eyes from the pleasure and the pain. It hurt, but it felt so good.
She nearly whimpered as he pulled out and she felt the emptiness. No, no, she wanted it back, even if it hurt. She wanted it so bad.
More fingers and he making her body ignite in fire as her breathing quickened. Then he was filling her up again. She fisted the sheets and bit into the silky scarf. It was so hard to not touch herself as she ached with the need to feel more pleasure. Balling her hands into the sheets, she felt his hands kneading her hip, her shoulder, as he slid slowly ignited her body on fire.
She couldn't take it any longer. She reached between her thighs and another smack stung her flesh as he pulled out. She nearly gasped and cried out in disbelief at the loss. Damn it, she'd broken another rule. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Grissom grab his belt out of his pants before getting back onto the bed.
He grabbed one arm and tied it with the belt before saying, "Give me your other arm." A trembling started in her body, but she did as she was told as she rested her weight on her upper body and moved her other arm behind her back as they were tied together. Then he yanked her back. A hand gripped her around the neck as he spoke into her ear again, "You broke another rule…you naughty little girl."
She shivered at his words. She was a naughty girl; his bad girl and she wanted to be his bad girl for as long as he needed her to be. So far, the smacks had been more playful than hurtful. They had been startling but quickly followed by a gentleness that eased the pain away. He kissed and licked her back before shoving her down into the bed. Keeping a firm grip on the belt that bound her wrists, he used his legs to spread her knees wider as he thrust back into her at a brutal pace. She gasped into the scarf, she ached, and it hurt but it became the best thing she'd ever felt.
She was panting into the bed, hands fisting her palms, nails digging into skin as her arms strained against the belt. Tears stung at her eyes as she closed them while biting into the silk scarf. It took everything she had to not scream as her body was spasming with pleasure that rippled all the way down to her feet, curling her toes, her vision clouded with white as she was coming again.
A hand grabbed her up around the neck and pulled her upright. The hand on her neck tightened then eased, before tightening again, restricting her ability to breathe. Grissom was choking her. Panic set in, then the hand eased again, and she was drifting in a haze of pure bliss. That felt good. So good that she wanted him to choke her again. The hand tightened once more, giving her exactly what she wanted.
Grissom grunted out his pleasure as his pace faltered. He was coming. God, she wanted to come again. She wanted it so bad. Wanted it more than anything.
Without warning she was flipped over as the scarf was yanked out of her mouth as Grissom reached down between her legs. His hand once again grabbed her throat and tightened, then eased, and then tightened again right along with her body. The tension was building as she closed her eyes as the heat spread up, felt her muscles tingle and grow tighter as she fought to breathe, chest burning until—
She gasped, crying out, as she came hard into Grissom's hand.
She no longer cared about not speaking as she screamed throughout the orgasm, cussing and groaning as she continued to come. Her head was spinning from the lack of oxygen, but she was also floating in pure ecstasy.
That was the best, most intense—
"You can speak now."
"That was perfect," she hurriedly said before she could stop himself. "Oh, God, that was—Gil, I can't breathe."
As she came back down, she was surprised when she heard Grissom laughing as he kissed her over her chest and up to her neck. Then lips were on hers as a tongue drove deep into her mouth. A breath eased out against hers as he nearly spread out his entire body over hers. It was perfect.
After several long kisses, Grissom pulled away as he told her, "That's my girl." The belt was quickly removed and then she was pulled to her feet.
He showed her to the bathroom where they took a shower together. Afterwards, he grabbed the whiskey bottle and pack of cigarettes and headed out onto the hotel balcony without saying a word.
It was almost like a dismissal. Grissom was done with her. It was over. Time to go.
Grabbing her clothes, she went into the bathroom, closed the door and cried as she dressed. Once she re-entered the room she saw him standing out on the balcony drinking the whiskey as he smoked a cigarette. It was then that she noticed how tired he appeared. How distant and detached his eyes looked as he stared back into the room at her. She had no idea what was going on in the man's head but knew it was none of her business.
Once he was done with the cigarette, he walked back into the room, tapping the whiskey bottle onto his leg as he asked, "Are you okay? You said it was good. Were you lying?"
"No, no, Grissom, it was great. Amazing. I enjoyed it a lot. I guess I thought…"
"What?"
She suddenly felt stupid. She felt the heat of anger on her face, in her chest, as it got hard to speak. "That…I could stay for a little while."
Grissom seemed to debate that before he told her, "I told you at the beginning that you didn't have to be afraid when you're with me." His eyes took in her clothes and he said, "You thought I wanted you to leave?"
"Does that mean I can stay?" she asked hopefully.
"You can stay."
Her head jerked up in surprise. "So, we're not done?"
He brought the bottle up and took a drink before telling her, "Only if you want it to be. You said that you need to be you when you're with me. Well, I need to be me when I'm with you. You can stay, but…I'm letting you know now that I have three rules, Sara. One, this stays between us. Two, I don't date. Three, don't, fall in love."
That last part was going to be tricky. She was already in love, and with a possible married man, which would explain the rules and his need for secrecy. She had to hide it, push it down with everything else. She gave a nod and then hesitated as to what to do next.
"It's Gil," he said. "Not Grissom." Closing the distance between them, he grabbed her by the waistband and pulled her closer, up against his bare chest, as he told her, "Here, with me, you can do anything." His fingers rubbed over the lace underwear that was under her pants. "Be whoever you want to be. Do that."
"What're you going to do?"
His eyes lit up as he said, "Order room service."
~"Well, the first days are the hardest days, don't you worry anymore, 'cause when life looks like Easy Street, there is danger at your door—"~
All day Saturday they ate room service, had more sex, drank bottles upon bottles of beer, wine and whiskey, played poker and chess, worked on the newspaper's crossword puzzle, and danced a lot as he played his CDs on the stereo the hotel provided, especially the Grateful Dead. Gil's favorite band. She didn't remember sleeping much but was sure she did. It was hard to remember anything else as Gil made her laugh and smile and feel more alive than she'd ever felt in her life.
~ "Think this through with me, let me know your mind…Woah, oh, what I want to know, is are you kind?"~
Sunday was when he finally wanted fresh air and they ventured around San Francisco. They took in all the sights, and she got to drive his car. He was a ball of energy the entire time as they hiked through Golden Gate National Park, took in the various museums, and through it all she couldn't stop smiling. He honestly wanted to know who she was, and what she thought about everything. He wasn't just teaching her but learning from her as well. She wasn't used to anyone taking what she had to say into consideration.
~"It's a buck dancer's choice my friend, better take my advice, you know all the rules by now, and the fire from the ice—"~
He also kept buying her things during their adventure around the city: a book, a painting, flowers, and a handcrafted bag from the street market that they'd passed on the way to the art museum. She didn't even have to break out her wallet as he paid for everything. They ended the day having dinner at a rooftop restaurant that overlooked the bay on one side and the city on the other.
~"…Will you come with me? Won't you come with me?..."~
They ended the evening back in his hotel room where there was more music, more drinking and dancing, and more sex. Come Monday morning, she was exhausted, and he was dressed to go back to work. Driving her back to campus, he dropped her off at her apartment and leaned over to kiss her goodbye and actually got her phone number. He wanted to keep in touch with her once he left. She had no idea if she was ever going to see him again once he left San Francisco, but if there was a way, she'd find it. She was hopelessly in love with the man.
~"...Woah, oh, what I want to know...Will you come with me?"~
A few hours later, she was running. Her strides were long and fast as her heart raced along with the thoughts in her head. There was a lot going on that she was trying to work through and running helped. It centered her, much like being bound. It set her free.
She hadn't felt free like that since she was a child. Sitting in her father's car in the yard. Red leather bucket seats, a setting sun over the bay, unknown buttons that when pushed launched her into outer space or started a jet that flew a jet through the clouds, or a boat that roamed out to sea. She wanted to be in anything that got her away from her parents and out of San Francisco.
The innocence of youth was no longer something she had; hadn't had since she was fourteen years old. Even before that, she wasn't really allowed to be a child. None of that mattered now. Her parents were gone, and they were never coming back. All she had since, the only person she could rely on for the past ten years was herself.
There had been a gym teacher she had once who told her that pain was just weakness leaving the body. She had never thought that statement truer than she did during that first night with Gil. Feeling weak wasn't a new thing for her; it was a constant.
Her parents used to make her feel so embarrassed, and weak, and worthless, that she didn't think she would survive on her own. They had made her feel trapped in her own body, her own genetics, like what she was destined to be just as crazy and violent. They made her feel as if there was something wrong with her. Embarrassed, scared, and angry all at once for who she was and who they were. Pain, she told himself as her strides grew faster as she made another lap, was weakness leaving the body.
There was nothing wrong with her. She knew that now. For the first time in a very long time, she felt like she actually understood herself. She needed the struggle. She needed the pain so that all she felt, the anger, weakness, and fear, could leave. The pain took it all away.
It was needed to build strength. The pain built confidence. Nothing felt the same anymore. Everything felt more real. The world looked more real than it did when she had wanted it to go away. She used to not only hate her life, but life in general. The people in it, the expectations they had of her, and the laughter and mocking. She hated that most of all.
She thought love was real, but she knew the pain was real. She knew that the restricting of her breath with his hand on her neck was real. And she knew the feel of Gil inside her as she came was real. It was all too real. Too alive. His laughter, his smile, and his curious mind was intoxicating. He was like a drug she couldn't get enough of it.
She had tried to take her own pain away by numbing everything. She would get wild and crazy because she didn't want to feel the hate that threatened to take over the anger. She had pushed it down and hid it all until she couldn't take it any longer. Until she got completely wasted to stop the hurt.
Now, this world was all she wanted because Gil was living in it with her. She had wanted to stop feeling so fucking worthless, and weak, and angry and Gil made her so very much alive. The sky was blue, the grass green, and her lungs were on fire. Her legs burned.
Let it burn.
From 1996 to 1998, he kept in touch with her, an email here, subscription to some forensics journal there. Random gifts on Christmas. She didn't see him again until 1998 when he was back in San Francisco for a forensic lecture. Another whirlwind affair over the weekend had her not wanting him to leave, but he had to. That was when she knew she had to find her way to Las Vegas.
Before she found one, he called her. He wanted her to come to Vegas.
She wanted to say something to Gil about his drinking and use of sex for dealing with pain, because over the years of doing this she knew that was what it was for. Gil was using sex to take the pain away. And boy did it work. But it was only temporary. The pain came back; it always did.
She nearly worked up the courage once to ask, but then chickened out at the last moment. She knew well enough that if a person didn't want to talk about something they wouldn't. All she could do was be there for him when he allowed it. But, then again, Gil being vulnerable was never a possibility.
After he walked back in and returned to the bed, she turned to him and said, "Here, blow," as she held her fingers up to his mouth.
She saw how glassy his eyes were from all the drinking he'd been doing. Turning his head slightly, he blew on her nails then said, "Red?"
"It's called Vixen."
He stared at her nails a moment then said, "As in a shrewd, ill-tempered woman?"
She couldn't help but laugh as she said, "I think they meant the other definition of Vixen. A fox. You know, sexy as a fox. Foxy, like Jimi Hendrix's song "Foxy Lady"."
Gil stared at her a moment longer and said again, "It's red."
"It is red," she agreed as she kissed him. "But it makes me feel foxy." She smiled and went back to painting her nails; she had her other hand to do. "I never wear nail polish to work; I think Nick would freak out seeing me looking like an actual girl."
"Are you two dating?" She looked up at him in confusion at that question. Was she dating who? Gil explained as he said, "You and Nick. I'm assuming you're referring to Nick Stokes. Our co-worker." The tone he used wasn't an accusation. He was curious. She swore she saw amusement in his eyes as he said, "You know you're free to date other people if you want."
"I know that."
"It doesn't look like you knew that."
She blushed slightly and looked away. "I never thought about it. And no, we're not dating."
"Now you can think about it if you meet a guy you're interested in. I'm actually surprised you haven't."
Gil's words went through her head before she worked up the courage to ask a question. "Are you dating other people?"
"I told you that I don't date."
She started to get annoyed as she asked, "Have you had sex with other women since I moved to Las Vegas?"
He thought about that before shaking his head, saying, "No. I…haven't needed to since you moved here, before then yes. You're enough for me."
She returned to finishing her nails on her left hand, turned to Gil, and held her fingers up for him to blow on them like he'd done with her right hand. He did but grabbed her hand and held it to his lips before placing a kiss on her palm. Those moments of physical touch were the only acts that made her think that Gil did, in his own way, love her.
Then again, that could have been the worst lie told because she couldn't tell the difference.
"What're your parents like?"
Gil stopped kissing her palm as he let go of her wrist. He swirled the whiskey around in the bottle as he regarded her a moment before answering, "My father was a botanist. I was nine when he died."
She almost told him that she was sorry but held back knowing that Gil wasn't telling her to gain sympathy. He didn't want sympathy or pity or whatever. He wanted to be understood. He needed it just like anyone else.
"And your mom?"
Gil glanced away. She didn't think he was going to answer. She could see the hesitation in his glassy eyes. "She's Catholic. She...tried to pray all the sin out of me. Still trying." He slurred his words, took another drink, and returned his attention back to her cat. "I stopped trying to please her a long time ago."
She looked away, stared past her red nails to the bed. She hadn't seen her mother since she was fourteen and, in her mind, she could forget that her father existed, but her heart reminded her every time she looked at herself in the mirror.
Shaking her head slightly, she grabbed more cotton balls and started on painting her toenails as she said, "I bet that makes everything easier."
"What easier?"
"Your life. Being who you are. You don't have anyone to disappoint." She glanced over and saw Gil's face.
There was a sadness in his eyes she'd never seen before. It was nearly heartbreaking. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it didn't make it easier. All she knew was that they were the same in a lot of ways. And without family or friends to disappoint then being who they were felt easier. They could be themselves without fear.
But Gil looked, for a moment, as if he'd been judged by someone who loved him. She saw his fear.
"There is someone. Or there was?" An ex-wife, perhaps? She should have asked. In four years, she should have told him that she knew about the wedding ring. After four years, it was still in the glove compartment of his 1979 Mercedes Benz convertible. He still had the same car.
Gil seemed to snap out of his thoughts as he blinked and looked away. Whoever he was thinking about had caused him to drift away. He didn't answer but he did ask, "Why do you keep coming back?"
"You know why. I need this just as much as you do," she told him.
"I'm…so much older than you. I'm not offering a relationship. I can't love you."
All the arguments anyone would or could make about her and Gil being together were instantly thrown her way. She heard Gil's own judgment in his voice and it hurt her. She felt his pain but feeling his pain didn't answer the question Gil had asked. It wasn't just intrigue and fascination. It wasn't puppy love. It was more than that. Whatever it was, it went deep.
The pain she'd heard in Gil's voice didn't just resonate, it burned into her blood and it made her hurt just as deeply. And in that pain, she felt alive. Connected. She needed that more than anything, more than the sex. She connected with Gil. That was why. They were the same and they needed what the other could give them.
"You can't love me; I know you told me that. But...I feel it."
He stared at her and the look in his eyes wasn't anything good. In fact, he looked upset. Disappointed. "It's a lie."
"What is?"
"Love."
She didn't understand why he would think that. "Love is a lie?"
"Whatever you think I feel towards you, whatever you feel for me, it's a lie. Don't believe it."
She looked away as her chest clenched in pain. It wasn't for herself, but for Gil. "You don't think anyone can love you?" she asked in disbelief.
There was resentment, hurt, but also a resignation in his eyes as he said, "It's not what I think, it's what I know." He believed that so much that it was causing her to get angry at him for feeling it, even thinking it. "I'm not telling you this to hurt you, Sara, but to keep you from getting hurt." Then he asked again, "Why am I still here? Why do you let me come back? I told you that you can date other people, I've been with other women since we met, and…I'm still here. Do you want me to leave? Tell me how you really feel."
She shook her head. No, she didn't want him to leave. She was also still in disbelief. The only thing she could reason out was that Gil's wife or ex-wife made him believe he wasn't worth a damn. And with those thoughts, she started to get angry.
"Tell me something that's real."
Gil didn't think love was real? Love was not good enough of an answer. He wanted something else. Something he believed to be real. What was real for her were her emotions. Her heart was real. She felt too damn much. She felt Gil too damn much. And that also made her angry.
"Sara, I expect an—"
"What is real is that I know what I feel," she suddenly snapped before glaring at him. "I was taken from my home when I was fourteen to live in foster care. My father ruled our house with an iron fist. My mom knew when to keep quiet, or else the beatings would start. It was hard being there. That all ended when my mother killed him. You were right, about me, about everything. It didn't feel like a home. I wasn't safe. I was never respected. I didn't feel loved. I never felt any of those things, ever in my life. Until you. You said you would make me feel those things, and I do. And because of that…–You don't get to deny me those feelings. If I get hurt, I get hurt. I'll deal with it. You can't love me, fine, but don't you dare pass that onto me, Gil. I'm not as emotionless as you are."
Gil looked at her for an extremely long time without saying anything. She wished she knew what was going on inside his head because on the outside he was stoic as always. "And you like it when I play games with you? You like it when I tie you up, smack you—"
"Yes," she honestly told him. "Did you even hear me?"
"I heard you. Why do you like it?"
She swallowed hard as she felt a tremble come over her. She had no idea what was going on. "What's with the questions? You're not going to say anything about what I said."
"Sara, what do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? I am sorry, for you and all the shit you've been through in life. No one's had it easy, but…I am not responsible for your feelings. They're yours and you have the right to feel what you feel. Now answer the question," he demanded.
"I need it, okay," she rushed out.
"Why do you need it?"
"Because—" She felt tears on her face and quickly wiped them away. Her anger was building. She was getting so angry with him that she felt like hitting him.
""Because" isn't an answer. Answer the—"
She smacked him. The sting on her hand surprised her the same as it surprised him. He gaped at her in absolute shock. "Gil, I…I'm sorry." She got up off the bed, grabbed his pack of cigarettes and went out onto the balcony. She needed air.
Going out onto the balcony, she lit one up as her hand shook and leaned against the railing as she stared out at the street below and then looked up, over the buildings, through the palm trees, and at the Las Vegas skyline. The sun was almost completely down as the night grew darker. Tears filled her eyes and slid down her face.
Without turning around, she could feel him coming up behind her. She felt him everywhere, even when she was alone Gil loomed over her. It was never in a bad way. She wanted him there. She wanted him in every space she occupied. He was her strength, her control and confidence.
She felt his chest against her back, his breath on her neck and shoulder, and then saw his hands on either side of her gripping the railing. She was surrounded and engulfed into safety. She felt protected. If that was a lie, she didn't want to know the truth.
Gil wanted to know why she stayed. She was scared to tell him why.
Taking a deep breath, she finally admitted, "When you tie me up, an odd feeling comes over me. It brings me into myself and…centers me. I can just let go and escape my life, the pain, in this space we've created. It's all so much easier for me to manage since we started doing this. It doesn't go away, the pain and anger I feel, but it's different. I feel…confident, like I know myself better now. What we do, not just the sex but everything, it feels too good. I don't want it to stop." She felt a kiss on her neck. "Why do you do it?"
Gil's hands moved from the railing and caressed over her hips and thighs and then under the silk fabric of the lingerie he'd bought for her. That was when she realized that she was standing on her balcony, in her underwear, smoking a cigarette. The breeze hit her chest, making her shiver.
"I have to." He reached up and cupped her chin and jaw, turning her face towards his. "This is the only time I ever give absolute consideration to the person I am with. I have...difficulty in that area."
"I've noticed." She turned her face into Gil's palm and kissed it. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm not angry at you." She turned around in his arms and turned his face to see his cheek where she'd smacked him. It was a little red.
He brought her closer to kiss her lips. "I know." Gil moved his lips from her mouth to her ear as he whispered, "You know I like it rough." Burying his face in her neck, he kissed her skin, sending another shiver through her body that wasn't from the wind.
"Smacking someone in anger is different from smacking someone to heighten sexual pleasure. It wasn't right."
"I deserved it, I shouldn't have—"
"Gil," she grabbed his face and held it between her hands. "No you didn't. I was wrong to have let my emotions get the best of me." She had no idea if she was getting through to him or not. His eyes were still glassy, she could smell whiskey on his breath.
For a sobering moment, his eyes cleared as he gave a nod as he smirked slightly. "Okay."
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he laughed. "How did you know that I would like rough sex?"
His arms wrapped around her waist as he told her, "Our first time together. You had a look in your eyes. You wanted it just as badly as I did. I want to make you forget about everyone who's ever made you feel inadequate and less-than, because none of that is true. You are so beautiful, and love, love is just a word. But this is what's real for me. It involves absolute trust in the other person. Respect. This proves love, doesn't it?" he asked as he took the cigarette from her hand as she brought it around to take a puff off it.
It unnerved her how well she understood him. He was right. Love was just a word. Gil could easily kill her by choking her, but he didn't. And she trusted him not to. She trusted him to love her enough to not to. When you had sex with someone, you were at your most vulnerable. This was as vulnerable as it got. Completely naked in front of someone in every way possible.
If you didn't respect someone, didn't trust them, and didn't love them, then how could you do this with them? You wouldn't be able to. "Yes," she told him, "It does."
Gil put the cigarette out as he pulled her back into the bedroom and down onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. She watched as he grabbed the silk scarf off the floor and tied her arms behind her back. Then he grabbed the belt from the other side of the bed. They never started off this way before and she couldn't hide her excitement if she tried. This was exactly what she wanted.
All the truth she needed was how good Gil made the pain feel. She trusted that he would only hurt her as much as she needed to be hurt to make it feel good. There was no better indication of trust and dependency. This, for the both of them, was what love meant.
Pushing into her, Gil filled her completely from behind as his other hand wrapped around her waist. The belt around her neck tightening and then loosening, and then tightening again until she came, choking back a scream and she felt herself fall. In that moment of free-fall into ecstasy, his arms were around her like a lifeline that kept her from falling too far too fast.
Gil was right there with her. "Breathe," he spoke into her ear. "Breathe as I breathe. I have you. Such a good girl. I got you."
And he did have her. He had her completely.
She felt Gil's heavy breathing against her neck, his heart pounding in rhythm with her heart, and then she was lifted up. Gil was carrying her into the warmth of the shower. She felt Gil holding her against his body as he cleaned them both off, before wrapping a towel around her and returning them both to the bed.
She forced her heavy eyelids open as she looked at Gil lying down next to her in bed. She smiled. He loved her.
And with that thought, she drifted off to sleep.
He woke her up four hours later by playing music very loudly. The Grateful Dead's "Truckin'" was blaring through the apartment, causing her head to ache as Norma Jean licked her arm. Getting out of bed, she pulled on Gil's shirt and headed out of her bedroom.
He was making her breakfast, something he rarely did. Upon seeing her walk into the living room, he smiled wide as he came over to her, and spun her around to the music. She thought it was too early in the morning for dancing, but Gil had other plans. She spotted the open wine bottle on the counter and realized he'd been drinking her wine. Did he even sleep?
Pulling her to him, he started dancing with her around the living room as the song kept playing. At first, she was annoyed, she needed coffee, but then she found herself laughing and swaying with him as she wrapped her arms around his bare body, because all he had on were his jeans, not even socks.
Burying his face into her neck, he gave her a kiss while singing, "Truckin', like the do-dah man once told me, "You've got to play your hand", sometimes the cards ain't worth a dime if you don't lay 'em down…" Grabbing her hand, he brought it up to his shoulder as he moved with her to the music as he rested his forehead on hers as he sung out, "Sometimes the light's all shinin' on me, other times, I can barely see, lately it occurs to me…what a looooong, strange trip it's been…"
They danced until the song was over and then she had to make some coffee and he had to finish making breakfast. In the trash can was the bottle of whiskey along with the beer that had been in her refrigerator.
The man was on a bender. It was a good thing he had the night off. He was going to be hurting later.
TBC…
Disclaimer songs used/mentioned: "Uncle John's Band" and "Truckin'" by Grateful Dead. "Foxey Lady" by Jimi Hendrix.