As they started off toward the Aladdin, Grissom looked down at Sara's heels once more and asked, "You sure you feel like walking?"

"Griss, it's less than half a mile. I'll live."

Grissom slipped his hand back into hers and wove their fingers together. He loved the way it felt to hold Sara Sidle's hand. She glanced over at him and smiled. From the corner of his eye, he watched as she opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again, thinking better of it. He prodded her. "What? What is it?"

She gave him a sheepish grin and tripped a little over the words. "Uhh, well, Griss…it's just that…" She stopped and took a deep breath and blurted it out. "Can you even dance?"

At this, he gave a hearty laugh, then recovered and attempted to look hurt. "Why, Miss Sidle, why on Earth would you question my dancing ability?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Well… I've imagined us doing a lot of things, but dancing was never one of them." She blushed. "Umm, sorry. I hope that wasn't too much information," she muttered.

Grissom gave her a sly smile. "I'd love to hear more about some of these things you've imagined us doing," he began. Before he could continue teasing her, she wrinkled her eyebrows together and posed a sudden question.

"Why Curve?"

"What?" Grissom asked, confused.

"Why Curve? I mean, there are literally hundreds of nightclubs in Vegas. Why did you choose Curve? You must have had a reason. I'm just curious as to what it was."

"Well…" Grissom began slowly. "There are actually several reasons. First of all, it's a classy establishment that caters to a slightly more mature crowd. We probably won't be surrounded by drunk college kids, which is a good thing. I mean, let's face it, Sara. You'd fit in anywhere, but I think I might look a little bit out of place in some of these nightspots. I'd probably look like a chaperone at a high school dance." He wrinkled his nose at the thought, which Sara found impossibly adorable. He continued. "Second of all, Thursday is locals' night at Curve, so we probably won't have to deal with a bunch of crazy tourists. And the last reason is…" Grissom cleared his throat. He was a little embarrassed, for some reason. "Umm, in addition to the House music, Curve plays a lot of Latin music, which is…basically the only thing I know how to dance to."

Sara raised her eyebrows to their highest point as her lips parted slightly in surprise. Grissom glanced over and saw just the faintest hint of the gap between her two front teeth. Finally, she spoke. "Uhh, ok, you care to explain that last statement? You mean you know how to dance to Latin music, which most people find to be totally intimidating, but you can't dance to anything else?" The look she was giving him was one of complete skepticism.

Grissom sighed as he contemplated the bittersweet memories he was about to share. He looked up at the sky as he began to speak. "My mother is an artist, which I think you already knew." She nodded. "Well, as an artist, she's so full of passion, and Latin music is by nature passionate. She's always loved it. When I was very young, she and my father used to go salsa dancing all the time. Then," Grissom's voice became quiet, "he left and she had no one to dance with. She was a very strong woman and didn't complain, but sometimes I would catch her in the kitchen with the radio on, dancing by herself, a sad look in her eyes. So when I was fourteen, I started saving my money, and I secretly enrolled in dance lessons so I could learn the steps. Once I became proficient, I took her dancing. She had so much fun that it became a weekly tradition for us…" Grissom's voice trailed off as he glanced over at Sara and shrugged his shoulders, embarrassed. He was surprised to see tears in Sara's eyes.

"Griss," she whispered. "That's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard." She squeezed his hand. "Your mother is a very lucky woman to have such a thoughtful son." Grissom shrugged again. "I just wanted to make her happy."

---------

Sara was pleasantly surprised as they entered the nightclub. Grissom had been right about it being a classy place. There were eight different rooms, encompassing everything from high-energy dance floors to quieter, more intimate lounge areas. There were private booths where couples could sit and observe the crowd, along with balconies overlooking the Strip. Sara was not surprised when Grissom led her to a reserved booth in the VIP seating area. After all he had done, it was getting pretty hard to surprise her, she thought wryly. Sara slid into the booth and tingled with happiness when Grissom slid in next to her, instead of sitting across the table. An attendant came to the table, and Grissom requested bottle service. He deferred to Sara when the attendant inquired as to what they would like. Sara tilted her head, studying Grissom, before making up her mind. She pursed her lips and said, "Bourbon, top shelf." One corner of Grissom's mouth turned up at her words. Sara grinned and leaned in close to his ear. "I know that's what you like, and to be honest, I don't care what I'm drinking as long as I'm drinking it with you." As she finished, she flicked her tongue against his earlobe seductively. She gave a self-satisfied smile as she heard him suck in his breath.

He turned to her. "Well, before you get me all hot and bothered here, do you want to have a look around? Or have you been here before?"

She shook her head. "No, I've only heard about it. I'd love to look around."

Grissom wiggled out of his coat and left it lying on the seat as they got up. First, they went out on one of the balconies to sample the view of the Strip. Ceramic heaters chased away the cool, dry desert air. Sara leaned against the railing and thought she would die when Grissom fell in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. The front of his body was pressed snug to her back, and the heat that they were creating was…distracting, to say the least. He lifted his right hand to brush her hair back off her shoulder, granting him access to her neck. He leaned his lips down and caressed her neck with them, his beard irritating her skin in a way that she found completely intoxicating. As she let her mind wander into dangerous—and erotic—territory, a panic-inducing thought occurred to her. What exactly would happen when their date was over? 'Oh, shit. Oh, shit. What am I supposed to do? He got me that suite. Am I supposed to ask him up? Is he expecting that? Or will he think I'm being a slut? Is he ready to move that fast? Am I ready to move that fast?' Without realizing it, Sara had stiffened significantly. The change in her body language was not lost on Grissom. With his lips still roaming her neck, he whispered, "What? What is it? Did I do something?"

Sara shook her head quickly. "No, you didn't do anything. It's…nothing," she finished quickly.

Grissom moved to her side, turning her body toward him so he could see her face. "I don't believe you, Sara. Honey, tell me," he said plaintively.

Sara looked into his eyes, studying them. She finally decided that perhaps honesty was the best course of action. "Umm, promise you won't think I'm strange?" she asked with a small smile.

Grissom mirrored her smile. "Of course I won't think you're strange."

"Well…you were kissing my neck and I just started wondering…uh, exactly where things were going to go tonight. I mean, physically, I guess." She looked down at his feet. "I just don't know exactly what your expectations are. You got me that beautiful suite, so I thought you might expect to, ah…" Her voice trailed off. "On the other hand, I don't want you to think that I'm, um…promiscuous." She was really getting flustered. She had to shut up before she totally made an idiot of herself. "I guess I was just wondering what you are expecting of me."

Grissom reached down and pulled her chin up. She was shocked to see that he looked a little hurt. He held her gently as he said, "God, Sara, no. I don't expect anything of you. Oh, my God, I'm so sorry if I've given you that impression—"

"No, no, you didn't, I just didn't want—"

"God, Sara, Baby, I would die before I would put you in a position that made you uncomfortable…"

'Baby. He called me Baby…'

He continued, "…and I never meant to make you think that I expected anything from you." The anguish was evident in his eyes. He continued. "Sara, what I expect from you," he paused, "is for you to be totally, one hundred percent comfortable with anything and everything that happens between us—physically and emotionally. You call the shots, Honey."

Sara's heart melted. She felt her tensions fall away. She looked at him lovingly. "May I be very honest with you for a moment?" she asked.

"Of course," he replied softly.

She took a breath. "What I want…" she stopped and redirected her thoughts. She looked up at him and said softly, "Gil, I can't think of a more perfect way to end this perfect evening than to have you come up to my suite and make love to me. My only concern was what level of intimacy you would be comfortable with. I didn't know if that would be moving too fast for you. And on top of that..." She looked down again. "I didn't want you to think that I'm the type of girl who just routinely hops in bed with people on the first date." Turning her face back up toward his, she felt her eyes burning with unshed tears as she said, "It's just that I've waited so long for this to happen with you. It just feels right. But if you're not ready, we can wait."

Grissom looked down at her, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Sara… I am completely ready for a physical relationship with you. For years, I've been in love with you, yet too scared to act on it. I'm through with that kind of attitude. So yes, I'm ready and I agree—it feels right. But I want you to be absolutely sure."
Sara couldn't help the huge, stupid smile spreading across her face. 'Oh, my God!' she squealed inwardly. 'Gil Grissom wants to sleep with me!' Looking at him, she said, "Well, now that we've cleared the air on that subject, I'm tempted to drag you back to the Venetian right now. However," she paused, a smile twinkling in her eyes, "I think I can wait. After all, you've told me you can dance, and this I've got to see."

Grissom chuckled lightly as he leaned down and kissed her on the tip of her perfect nose. Taking her hand, he said, "Well, then, let's go find a dance floor. Wait, first let's swing back by our table and see if that bottle of bourbon has made it yet. I think I might feel a little looser on the dance floor with a bit of sauce in my veins," he said with a wry smile.

----------

Five minutes later, Grissom had downed two shots of bourbon, to Sara's delight (Grissom doing shots was something she had never expected to see, but thoroughly enjoyed), and was pulling her out onto the dance floor. He had removed his cuff links, rolled up his sleeves, and loosened his tie, making him look so sexy that Sara wondered how they were ever going to make it back to the Venetian without her tearing his clothes off. The DJ had just started a fast-paced salsa number. Sara was busily fretting that she was going to embarrass herself when suddenly Grissom whipped her into his arms. He gripped her right hand in his left, and placed his right hand firmly in the small of her back. As they began to move, Sara silently thanked God that she had had a kick-ass roommate her freshman year at Harvard. Her very outgoing roomie had insisted on dragging Sara and some other friends to a trendy Boston salsa club one night a week—to relieve stress, she said. And when she found out that Sara was a ballet dancer, she absolutely would not take no for an answer. Sara had always had fun, and had learned quite a few good steps, but she had never been more thankful for that experience than she was right now. Because, damn it all, Grissom was good. He was leading her around the dance floor with grace and precision. The skill with which he was guiding her with his strong hand in the small of her back was nothing short of…amazing. She didn't realize how shocked she must have looked until Grissom looked down at her with an amused smile and said, "Close your mouth, Sara." She obediently did as she was told. He continued, "I take it you are pleasantly surprised?" Still beyond words, she nodded. Pulling her even closer, he murmured, "Good." Leading her to the edge of the floor, where it was less crowded, he said, "Ok, we're done with the warm-up. Now that I know how well you can dance, let's try something a little harder, shall we?" Sara looked up at the smirk on his face. Hot damn. This man was unbelievable. She began to wonder if she really knew him at all. The song came to a close, and a club mix of Ricky Martin's Livin' La Vida Loca began to blare. Grissom raised an eyebrow and said, "Well…I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but I kind of like this song. At any rate, it makes good dancing music, so let's go!" Before Sara could say a word, Grissom had whisked her back into action. Sara began to relax as Grissom led her. He was an excellent dance partner, and her memory of salsa steps was not quite as rusty as she had feared. Slowly, her confidence climbed, and she began to enjoy herself. Grissom eased her into some more complex steps, and as the song progressed, he winked at her before moving her into a turn. Having successfully completed it, they both grinned, and he surprised her by uttering, "Cross over break with a spot turn…ready?" She grinned slyly and nodded. The moved their leading legs inside, then shifted their weight back onto them, pivoted into a turn, and came back together.

"Smooth, Griss," Sara whispered.

"Let's try something else. Around the world to an outside spin," he spoke mischievously. Sara raised an eyebrow defiantly.

"Okay," she whispered. He moved her into a turn, and as she completed it, he made a rotation himself. As he completed his turn, she crossed his body as they stepped sideways, and she performed an outside spin, coming to rest back in his arms again without missing a step. She could tell he was impressed.

"My God, Sara, is there anything you can't do?" She laughed and told him about her college roommate.

"Trust me, Griss, if it hadn't been for Ashley, I would probably be too intimidated by your dancing prowess to even be out here with you."

He laughed. "Well, I'm glad Ashley dragged you out dancing, then, because I am certainly enjoying this."

"So am I. You are an amazing dancer, Grissom. I can't believe I never knew this about you!"

"Hey, I never knew you were a ballerina, so let's just call it even, ok?"

----------

Sara and Grissom danced for several more songs before Sara declared she needed to sit down before her feet started to bleed. Grissom led her back to their table, where they indulged in a bit more bourbon. Sara raised her eyebrows and said, "You don't mind that I'm drinking?"

Grissom put his glass down, took her hand, and said, "Sara, you told me that you didn't have a drinking problem--that being pulled over was a one-time mistake. If you say you don't have a drinking problem, I believe you, Honey. You seem so young to me because of our age difference, but I do realize that you are a grown woman, Sara. I trust your judgment completely."

Sara squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Griss. I don't think you know how much it means to me to hear you say that." Grissom smiled. Sara continued. "Speaking of the age difference, may I ask you a question?" Grissom winced, not knowing where she was going with this, and then nodded. Sara leaned her head to the side and asked, "Why does it bother you so much? I mean, it obviously doesn't matter to me."

Grissom blew out a large breath and leaned back. Looking at his hands, he said, "There are several reasons, really. First of all, people will talk, Sara. I mean, look at us. You are an absolutely beautiful young woman, vibrant and full of life. Half the men in the lab would kill for the opportunity to date you. Then there's me. I'm fifteen years your senior—an antisocial, graying old scientist. People will wonder what the hell you are doing with me. I just never wanted anyone to say you were trying to sleep your way to the top." Sara gave a sad smile as she realized the emotional turmoil he must have gone through while struggling with his feelings for her. He continued, "Second of all, I've always been afraid you'd wake up one day and wonder, 'What the hell am I doing here?' It's as if I know I'm not good enough for you, but you haven't figured it out yet, and I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop. You seem to be doing your best to obliterate that line of reasoning, though." He smiled. "Then there aretwo final reasons, which are, uh, a little strange to discuss. My age…it would have a major effect on two things—one in the short term, and one in the long term." His face was reddening at the forwardness of the conversation, and Sara squeezed his hand again in encouragement. He swallowed hard and continued. "Umm, I definitely don't have the, ah, stamina…uh, sexually…that a man closer to your own age would have. Then, and this is the long-term implication, and I'm not trying to get too far ahead here, but it's just something that has occurred to me. Um, Sara, is it your desire to be a mother?" Sara looked at him, shocked.

"Well…" Sara searched for the right words. "Yeah, I've always wanted to have children, Griss…it's just that I had kind of given up by this point. I mean, I'm 33 years old, I'm not married, and up until tonight," she grinned, "I didn't have any prospects on the horizon. You can't exactly think about having kids when you don't even have a boyfriend. So, I'd sort of given up on the idea, but yes, I would like to be a mother at some point."

Grissom looked at her sadly. "But Sara, if you stay with me, would you really want your children to be fathered by a man who will more than likely be in his early 50s by the time they are born?" He absolutely could not believe he had just said that. There was no possible way he was sitting with Sara Sidle, having a conversation about their possible future children. He was waiting for her to suddenly scoff at the idea that she would be sticking around long enough for children to be a possibility. He dared to glance over at her. She was looking at him with tears in her eyes. 'Oh, God,' he thought. 'Here it comes. God, I knew it was too good to be true. She's going to break my heart right here and now.'

Sara spoke, her voice strained from the tears that were fighting to break free. "Grissom…" she whispered, bringing his hand up to her mouth. She delicately covered it in small kisses as she squeezed her eyes shut against the tears. Grissom thought his heart might explode from the pain. Sara continued. "Oh, God, Grissom…you just don't understand, do you?" He gave her a puzzled look. She said, "If I just lay myself bare here for a moment, will that freak you out?" He gave her a wary look, then slowly shook his head. Sara took a deep breath. "Gil… I have dreamed so many times of the future we might have together. And those dreams have always, always, always included children." Her voice and eyes became dreamy as she relived her fantasies to him. "I've dreamed of small children with deep blue eyes and thick curls." She brought a hand up to his head and threaded her fingers through his salt-and-pepper curls. She twirled a curl around her middle finger as she spoke. "I've wondered whose nose they would get, whose chin. Would they inherit the little gap between my teeth? If we had a son, would he be passionate about insects? If we had a daughter, would she be the apple of your eye? Would you hold me close and lovingly caress my belly as I carried your child?" She snapped back to reality and looked into his dark blue eyes. "Grissom, I know you would be a fantastic father. I've seen you with Lindsey—she absolutely adores you. Children's minds are like little sponges, and you love that about them. Gil," she finished, "you would be an amazing father, and the only effect your age would have is that you will likely be a much more mature and patient parent." As she finished, her face burned with the realization of all that she had just poured out to him. The reddening of her features was not lost on him, and he reached to caress her face.

"Sara," he whispered. "God, Sara, I had no idea you felt that way. Don't you dare feel embarrassed for what you just said. The fact that you have dreamt of having my children is…" He searched for the right words. "It's just astonishing," he finished simply.

"So I didn't freak you out, then?"

He smiled. "No, Honey, you didn't freak me out. But what about…" He blushed. "What about my other concern…the stamina issue?"

Sara grinned mischievously. "Grissom, I swear…you only see half of the equation, you nut! Think about it, Gil. Okay, so a younger guy can have at it, and then be ready to go again in about two minutes. BUT…what does an older man have that a younger man doesn't? Come on, Gil…" she prodded at his confused look. "Gil! An older man can…uh…last longer." She blushed a little but, then looked back up at him. A slow smile was spreading across his handsome face.

"Ah," he said quietly. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. "You may have a very good point there, Miss Sidle. I hadn't thought of that." He relaxed when he saw Sara's grin. "Hmm," he continued. "I think I'll have a bit more bourbon and then drag you back out on the dance floor, if your feet are feeling up to it."

She nodded. "Definitely. I want to see some more of Gil Grissom's dance moves."

Swallowing back another shot of the good stuff, he stood up and held his hand out to Sara. Pulling her to her feet, he asked, "Have I told you that you look absolutely stunning tonight, Sara?"

She gave him a megawatt Sara Sidle Smile. "Well, yes, but I'll be more than happy to listen if you want to say it again."

"You look absolutely stunning tonight, Sara." He leaned in to brush his lips across hers before leading her back out to the dance floor.

Grissom and Sara danced for awhile longer, then decided to call it a night when Sara finally admitted that her feet were killing her. As Grissom led her off the dance floor for the second time, he leaned in for a hug. "Thank you for this evening, Sara," he whispered into her hair.

She leaned up and whispered into his ear, "The evening's not over yet, Gil."

He sucked in a breath at the sultry quality of her voice. God, he couldn't wait to get back to the Venetian. "Fred should be waiting in the parking lot for us. I'll give him a call and let him know we're ready." As Grissom pulled out his phone, Sara walked back over to their booth and gathered up his jacket. She strode back toward him just as he was snapping the phone shut. "He'll be at the door as soon as he can navigate the traffic."

Grissom put his hand on Sara's back as he guided her outside to wait for Fred. When she began shivering in the cool desert air, he slipped his jacket over her shoulders. She looked at him gratefully and whispered once again, "Thanks, Grissom…for everything."

He smiled down at her. Then, "I just want you to know that if you're at all unsure about…anything…you can tell me and I'll understand. No pressure, Sara," he said seriously.

She caressed his hand gently. "Gil, I'm ready. I promise." As she stood there holding his hand, she realized they were both trembling with anticipation.

----------

The limo ride back to the Venetian was relatively quick, considering that traffic on the Strip can be a nightmare. When the limousine pulled up to the curb of the Venetian, Grissom leaned over to the cabinet containing the mini-fridge and TV and opened a compartment. Reaching in, he pulled out another gift-wrapped package. Sara raised a quizzical eyebrow. "What is that?" she asked.

Grissom surveyed her. Raising an eyebrow of his own in response, he replied, "I don't know…exactly."

"What?" Sara was really confused. "How can you not know what it is?"

"I'll explain when we get upstairs."

Fred chose that moment to open the door of the limousine. Grissom stepped out, package in hand, and reached a hand down for Sara to take. As she emerged, she gave the package another questioning glance and shrugged. She trusted him. Besides, she had more important fish to fry right now. Within moments, she was going to be in a penthouse suite at the Venetian with Gil Grissom.

A/N: OK, people, I've had these last couple of chapters written for a while now, but Fanfiction is having some kind of issues and is basically a "read-only" site right now. At any rate, please don't think I'm not updating.

I hope everybody had a good Turkey Day. Good God, I ate my weight in turkey and essentially slipped into an L-Tryptophan-induced coma. Ugh. I never want to eat again. So then I watched CSI last night, and may I just say, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?! I may kill myself if the producers don't fix this! Seriously, this had better just be some kind of stupid-ass sweeps stunt. I do not like this Sofia character. Ugh. Then I dragged my ass out of bed at 5:30 this morning to go shopping. Will someone just shoot me? Please? Ok, I did snag some serious bargains, though, so life isn't all bad, right? ;)