Feasibility Study
Written by Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT

"Birthday Boys – Part 8"

August 17, 2005 (Day 117)
Greg's Apartment
8:24 p.m.

Sitting on the couch in the living room flanked by Tawny on one side and Greg on the other, Bev started flipping through the photo album she had brought with her from home. She brought it to share if things went well with Tawny and since the girl had exceeded her expectations in every way, she was ready to impart a little Greg history.

With his back against the couch and his head pointed to the ceiling, Greg announced, "Okay, I'm going to render myself unconscious to avoid this guaranteed embarrassment-fest. Rouse me in time for my shift so the good people of Clark County don't suffer from the lack of my presence at the lab."

"Oh please, you're exaggerating." Bev winked at Tawny. "What makes you think I could embarrass you, son? After all…you were such a normal child, what could possibly be in here?"

Opening the book to the first page, she showed Greg's full-frontal nudity baby picture to Tawny and wasted no time launching the first tortuous remark. "Look, Tawny…pretty humble beginnings, huh?"

Joining Bev in the assault, Tawny dreamily replied, "But my how he's grown."

"That's it!" Greg leapt from the couch. "I'm taking a walk. There's no way I'm sticking around to hear the comments when you show her the one of me dressed in your heels and bra! Or the one where I taped a construction paper tail to my naked ass so I could run around the neighborhood on all fours begging for biscuits!"

Bev looked over at her hysterical son and sweetly replied, "I took those out so I wouldn't embarrass you, Dear."

"Oh." He gulped. "Now I'm definitely taking that walk." While his mother and Tawny buckled over with laughter he headed out the door.

When she caught her breath, Tawny said, "Maybe you could show me those when I come to California."

"Oh you don't have to wait, they're still in here." She flipped through the pages. "Here he is as Rover the smut pup, shaking his construction paper tail in front of Mrs. Lennox's door. It was a bit much even for California standards. Thankfully one of the neighbors kindly snapped the blackmail photo for me to add to my collection. Hard to believe he's a genius, huh?"

"Nah…geniuses are always a little twisted, aren't they?" She smirked. "And they usually have very over-active imaginations which is always a good thing."

The Grissoms'
8:35 p.m.

Sitting in the formal dining room enjoying the special birthday dinner, Sara and Ron had shouldered the majority of the conversation while Gil spent his time observing and analyzing every word flowing from his father's mouth.

"Tell me Sara…is my son always this verbose at the dinner table?" Ron teased while lifting his water glass. "Or was it your delicious casserole keeping him too busy to talk?"

"It depends on his mood." Grinning at her husband, Sara decided to maintain the playfulness. "You should have witnessed some of our conversations before we hooked up. I blabbered incessantly trying to flirt with him, while he'd stand there gaping like a fish until he managed to spout a very articulate…um." Her glance returned to Ron. "He definitely didn't inherit your gift for the gab."

Finally Gil chimed in. "I believe that gift is transferred through nurture, not nature." Smiling, he added, "But I don't consider it much of a loss because if I was raised as more of a talker than an observer, I probably wouldn't have been as successful at my job."

"Touché," Ron commented before polishing off his last bite of casserole.

"Ready for some birthday dessert?" Sara sweetly asked as she stood and cleared the dinner plates. Cognizant that things were going much better than she had envisioned, Sara realized Gil was tiring from being on guard all evening and wanted to expedite matters so he could relax a little before heading to work. "It's a healthy yet slightly decadent chocolate cake that I made from scratch…with Wendy's guidance."

"Sounds great, Honey," Gil replied while a little unnerved by his usually domestically awkward wife's sudden ease at playing June Cleaver.

Before leaving the room she asked, "So, you're sure the casserole is exactly the same?" She knew Wendy was waiting with baited breath to find out if she had successfully revamped the recipe.

Without hesitation, Gil responded, "A carbon copy, thank you again for the nostalgic gift."

After winking she floated out of the room basking in her success.

"Hey, you just lied to your wife," Ron remarked before cracking a smirk. "It wasn't exactly the same. Sara cut the vegetables in long vertical strips while your mother insisted they be chopped horizontally in big chunks. I know this because I tried to help her once and she flipped out when I did it like Sara. Jillian was so anal retentive when it came to cooking."

Raising his glass, Gil explained, "Sara is a perfectionist and would have been disappointed if I told her the difference. Since it doesn't impact the taste of the casserole and there's no way she'd ever find out unless you or I told her…I thought it was the right thing to do. Besides…the way vegetables are chopped doesn't matter to me." At least not anymore, he silently added for his own benefit. Especially not after you reminded me I act like a woman in regards to certain things.

"Before Sara returns there's something I want to ask you, son." Ron settled back in his chair and spoke candidly. "Listening to Sara talk about the foster kids backpack program got my businessman/philanthropic wheels turning. I have some ideas I'd like to share with her but, I want to make sure you're okay with me sticking my nose into your wife's life. If you're not comfortable just say the word and I'll drop it."

"I'm sure you could provide a great deal of expert technical guidance on the matter," Gil factually replied. "And no, I don't mind."

"Great!" He was surprised how quickly his untrusting son agreed.

Leaning forward, Gil lowered his voice to a chilly tone, "But heed this warning…the fastest way out of my life for good, is to do anything to hurt or disappoint Sara. After almost a year in the therapy she's finally opening up and trusting people…a little too much for my taste but I'm not going to stop her. She's building a little pseudo family out of friends…she's even signed up our neighbor to play her grandma. I fully expect my wife to want to latch onto you because you're a father figure and you will be the biological grandfather to her child should we be lucky enough to have one soon." He took his voice a notch deeper. "Don't you dare take advantage of that, and don't manipulate her in any way. She's been betrayed enough by people who were supposed to be looking out for her…I include myself in the group in case you're wondering if I'm a hypocrite. But I've learned my lesson and now, not only won't I betray her, I will go after anyone who hurts her." Narrowing his gaze, he firmly asked, "Do we have an understanding?"

"Crystal clear." For the second time that evening, Ron extended his hand. "It's a promise."

Gil accepted the gesture then settled back in his chair, breathing out and reaching for his water glass.

After clearing his throat, Ron lightened his tone. "If you have a daughter, you'll want to mirror that exact tone and look when you're threatening her boyfriend…it's very effective…quite testosterone infused."

"See…I don't always respond like a woman like you insinuated earlier." That comment was still ruminating in his mind. Annoying as it was, he couldn't deny its truth.

"Hey, I was quite clear that it was limited to only one particularly scenario and, you know it's true." Ron chuckled, "Anyway, isn't it a fatherly thing to try and toughen up his son?"

"I hired a personal trainer for that," Gil quipped before catching Sara returning with a small chocolate cake.

Sara breezed into the room carrying the aforementioned chocolate treat. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna stick a candle in it and embarrass you," She announced while placing the cake on the table. There was no need to do that tonight because she'd be doing it on Saturday in front of his friends when it would really make him squirm.

"Looks wonderful, Dear," Ron assured the budding chef. "Hey, when you were in the kitchen, I mentioned to Gil that I have a few ideas about your backpack project rolling around in my bored retiree head. He thought you might like to hear them." This way she would know he wasn't attempting a sneak attack.

"Sure," She answered with anticipation, now that she knew her husband had blessed the idea. While slicing three pieces of cake she remarked, "Now that we have money, I'd love to know how we can make the most of it to reach the most kids."

Gil resumed his role as critical observer, listening to the two of them talk.

"First things first," Ron said as he drove his fork into the moist cake. "You need to come up with a name for your project and set it up as a non-profit charitable organization."

"A name…" Sara pondered the question. "You know, Nick and I have tried to sit down and get organized but we always get busy at work or personally and then don't follow through. Up until now we've been winging the whole thing. It's not that we don't have the passion for it, we're just not familiar with what it takes. Any suggestions?"

"Regarding the name, how about B-PAC, standing for Bringing Peace and Comfort which also looks like an abbreviation for the word, 'backpack'. Bringing peace and comfort to kids is the purpose of your packs, right?"

"I love that!" Sara gushed with enthusiasm. "It fits perfectly."

"Terrific." Ron glanced over at his son who was eyeing him like a rabbit watching a coyote.

Her excitement halted momentarily. "Wait, this isn't right. I need to include Nick since we're partners in this project. It's not fair to make decisions without considering his input and giving him a vote." Looking over at her wary husband Sara absently asked, "Would it be okay for Nick to meet your father?" She regretted asking the question in front of Ron the moment the words left her lips.

"Um…" He hadn't considered the possibility of the two worlds colliding.

Sara tried to backpedal, "You know I bet Nick wouldn't mind me relaying…"

"Actually I'm returning to Florida tomorrow for a Board meeting," Ron announced, while watching for his son's reaction. When he saw Gil's eyes and body language reflect surprise and disappointment, he was pleased. "I'm retired from the trenches, but I still like to know what's going on with my corporation and my money. But…" He looked his son in the eyes. "I'd love to return next week if I'm welcome."

Sara waited with baited breath, hoping she was masking her feelings well enough so her husband wouldn't be influenced by her.

One glimpse of the mixture of hope and desperation in his wife's eyes was all it took for Gil to acquiesce. "I think it would be great if you could return and assist Sara and Nick in expanding their project, because there are plenty of kids out there in need of peace and comfort."

Ron admired his son's crafty reply. He was saying yes but on behalf of the needy children. The answer he was dying to know but wouldn't ask was…did Gil include himself as one who would benefit from his father's return? "Then it's settled. I'll return next week."

Paris Hotel
Room 714
8:41 p.m.

Reaching into her purse, Carrie fished out the room key. In the time it had taken them to arrive at the door she had refocused on her goal of breaking through her inhibitions and taking a walk on the wild side.

Being a perfectionist and a hyper-organized person, she had reviewed her role-play outlined in her head several times and felt confident that she could rise to the challenge and finally please her man in a new and exciting way. Once inside, she took Nick's hand, guiding him over to the bed displaying the two diverse garments.

Upon arriving next to the bed Nick was shocked to see a sleazy leather studded corset spread out next to a stunningly sexy delicate white lace garment which he was almost certain was the handiwork of La Perla.

"Okay, Baby," She caught his ear with her sultry tone. "What's it gonna be? Leather or Lace?"

Slipping his arms around her waist he sweetly whispered, "Beautiful, I'm dying to see you in that lacy white..."

"What!" Much to her surprise as well as her man's, Carrie jumped back and took offense. "I can't believe you picked lace! Do you have any idea the amount of work and mental anguish I've suffered over these plans! I spent an hour today developing my alter-ego, I practiced my moves, I even got comfortable hearing a few usually off-limits words come out of my mouth. I can't believe you picked lace! You can't! You have to pick leather! I planned on leather!"

Stunned by his fiancée's tirade, Nick gaped. "Honey…what has gotten into…"

"I know what this is about!" Fueled by champagne and insecurities, she paced in front of him. "You don't think I'm capable of pulling it off so why bother?" Her active imagination snowballed. "Or is it that you don't think I can handle it? OH! I can handle it, Cowboy! Because I know how this works. Sure, for now you're content with my sexual range, but one day you'll end up in a dog collar at Lady Heather's because I can't be a bitch in the bedroom."

"What in god's name are you talking about?" Everyone he worked with knew how Lady Heather's and places like those squicked him to an extreme. "I thought you were kidding about the leather. I was just joking with you in the elevator. You don't think I'd actually talk to you like…"

"Why did you pick lace!" Posturing in front of him with her hands planted on her hips she demanded, "Just say it, Nicky! Tell me why I'm not fit to wear leather!"

Rattled by her intensity and unable to deal with his own demons and articulate the truth at the moment, he said the first thing that popped into his head. "Uh…because it was the second choice and that's what I'm used to pickin' when you ask me about wedding stuff."

"What!" She stopped to think about it, reviewing all the wedding choices she had given him over the last few days. "Oh my god! You do always pick the second choice. You're not even thinking about it...you just automatically go with the second choice!"

Matching her posture, he snipped, "Yes, and do you know why?"

"Because you don't care!" She snapped.

"No! Because I know I don't really have an opinion! Because you already know what you want and that's the way it's going to be." Grabbing his head he blurted, "I can hear every single one of my sisters screaming in my mind not to say this but I'm going to say it anyway. Why the hell do you bother giving me choices if you already know which one you want? It's illogical! It's a god damn frustrating waste of my time AND it makes me think you don't respect me. I'd never treat you that way! I'd never give you two choices about something without both being acceptable options. When I asked you to marry me I prayed you'd say yes, but if you chose to say no, I wasn't going to club you over the head and drag you to the chapel! When I have a strong opinion about something you know I'm honest with you. Like when you asked me about my position on women working after having kids. I told you I was fine with it, that my mother raised us while tearing up the courtroom. How would you like it if after you had our first baby you found out I was hoodwinking you and fully intended to force you into the opposite choice? See, I respect you but you don't respect me."

Miffed by his words and the realization that their evening had jumped off the love track to Romanceland and crashed in Bickerville, she grumbled, "I can't believe this is happening!"

Flustered, Nick was happy to clarify the situation. "Believe it because I'm really pissed off right now! It's my birthday for cryin' out loud. You write me a great note giving me two options and then I can't even choose what I want and get it. What the hell is that all about? And on top of all that, what makes you think I want to see you tramped out in some trashy leather outfit anyway? Why are you so hell bent on me picking leather? I thought you knew me better. How could you think that you wearing that stuff and forcing yourself on me would turn me on?"

"I don't WANT you to pick leather!" She confessed in a heated shrill. "I prefer lace!"

"What!" Now he was certain she was going off the deep-end or that one of the chefs had laced her lobster with hallucinogens. "We're standing here arguing because I chose lace instead of leather and now you're telling me you wanted me to pick lace? What the hell, Carrie? Help me out here 'cause you're trippin' and I'm not trackin'!"

In her loudest response yet, she barked, "I'm just trying to make you happy on your birthday dammit!"

"Do I look like I'm happy!" He frustratedly replied. "I was happy…I was on cloud nine-hundred and ninety-nine and then we stepped into this room and entered the Twilight Zone. Is there something you're not telling me about our love life? Am I not giving you something you need?"

"No! I love our love life. I wouldn't change a thing about it if it was up to me but, I don't want you to keep suffering because I'm too inhibited."

Again he felt two miles behind. "When have I ever said you were too inhibited or that I was suffering in any way?"

She quickly explained his behavior to him. "You didn't, but only because you don't want to hurt my feelings."

In awe of her assumptions, he kindly asked, "And you know this because you read my mind when?"

Choking on laughter, she blurted, "Oh come on, Nicky…you've been with how many women? I think it's safe to say I'm not the best by far."

"Yes you are!" Reaching out he grabbed her hands. "You are! I don't define 'best' by tricks. Damn…how long have you been worried about this and not told me?"

Riding the crest of her insecurities, she defensively replied, "Probably as long as you've been worried our love life's too mundane. How long has that been?"

"Never!" He tossed his hands in frustration. "That's my point here. I thought things were perfect and then I walked into this alternative universe and got blindsided with all this…ugh."

For the first time she actually saw beyond her own panic and realized he was telling the truth.

Replanting his hands on his hips, Nick tossed his cards on the table. "Here's the deal…last week you sat me down and said I don't always have to be strong for you, that it's okay to be vulnerable and lean on you after a hard day at work. We had a long talk and I agreed that I need to work on that but, you know what…you need to work on something too. You need to be able to just come on out and say what's really on your mind, because I hate the idea of not knowing what you're thinking. I deal with that all day at work…staring down a suspect trying to read their mind, second guessing myself, fearing I'll make the wrong assumption. I don't want to do it at home too. If you want teal napkins then you say, Nick, I really want teal napkins is that okay with you? If I have a different opinion I promise I'll speak up and share it. If I don't care…and yes, I should be allowed not to have an opinion….then I want to be able to say, great and move on without you accusing me of not being excited about the wedding. Because trust me, I look at the calendar every day counting down the minutes until we're husband and wife. How does that sound, Counselor? Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes!"

"Good!" Extending his arms, he softened his tone. "Now give me a hug 'cause I'm hurtin' a little? How's that for oozing vulnerability?"

"Not too shabby." She answered by slipping into his arms. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"What are you sorry for?" She asked, while glancing up at her fiancé. "I'm the control freak who pretends to give you options and tells you what you're thinking even when you're not."

"Well…when you put it that way," He chuckled momentarily then continued to apologize. "No…I really am sorry that I yelled but, you were yelling at me and freaking me out with this sudden craving for leather and aggression. You threw me good…and it wasn't a place I wanted to land." Gently cupping her face he explained, "There are two things that I can't handle in bed…the first one is being aggressively overpowered and vulnerable. It's baggage from being abused and yeah I'm sure I could spend years in therapy getting over it but, unless it's something you need me to do, I'm very content not addressing it. I don't feel I'm losing anything because I can't let you tie me up."

"No…you don't have to go to therapy." Feeling relieved to retire Roxie before she even got started she confessed, "It's not something I need in the least. I have to play the domineering bitch all day at work, so I treasure the change of pace in the bedroom. That's why I love being with you, Nick. You make me feel loved and safe and dare I say it…feminine." Grinning she warned, "Just don't tell the uber-feminists I work with because they might jump me in the restroom for selling out."

"Your secret is safe with me." He brushed a kiss over her smile.

After returning the kiss, she whispered, "Now tell me the second thing so I know not to surprise you with it on your next birthday."

Relieved to hear number one was a permanently closed issue, he could finally relax, feeling confident she wouldn't have a problem with number two. "I suppose this could be classified as baggage too and I'm sure that sick pup Freud would have a field day with me if he were alive but here goes…I have five sisters and a mother I love…I can't…I absolutely can not stomach, thinking of women as whores or treating them that way, not even in role play. So those words you practiced…please don't ever say them. I was raised a gentleman and I'm not apologizing for it. You have this crazy idea in your head just because I've been with a lot of women that I'm looking for kink, but I'm not…never was. I'll even prove my point by confessing something that most women wouldn't want to hear but, I'm thinking it will be strangely appealing to you considering your insistence on showing compassion to misguided women. I uh…I had a friend once, a working girl, someone who fulfilled guys' most perverse fantasies nightly if you get my drift. In her off hours, she liked hanging with me because I treated her sweet when everyone else treated her like trash. Believe me, if there was something twisted I wanted she would have obliged but, I never asked. It's not in me and I don't care if I'm the only guy in this whole warped city that feels this way, it's the way I am."

"I don't think I've ever loved you more, Nick," Carrie gushed while tossing her arms around her future husband's neck. "I don't want you to change one bit."

He wrapped his arms around her pulling her close. "And you can get as sexy as you want to be, Baby, just please don't go to those two places I mentioned."

"If you insist," She teased. "I've already decided I'm officially retiring Roxie and tossing her corset in the trash."

"Roxie?" He chuckled at the silly name. "I'm really glad I didn't get to meet her."

"So…" Stroking his cheek with her fingertips, she demurely asked, "Are you ready for a little more champagne and a lot of lace, Birthday Boy?"

In his best honorable cowboy voice, he joked, "Yes, ma'am. That would be swell."

"Oh, now I've got your number, Stokes." Playfully she pushed him away from her and used Sara's words, with a little embellishment. "You're a certified straight-shooter who moseyed with plenty of lil' ladies but, you always liked to ride your white horse in an out of Dodge the same way. You used to love 'em good and leave 'em quick but one day, you found a filly worthy enough to lasso." She waved her engagement ring. "And now all you want to do is make that special lady happy night after night after night until the very last sunset on the OK Corral."

"Now you sound like you know me." At the edge of the bed, he scooped up the lacy lingerie. "You want some choices, Baby?"

"Yes."

Dangling the garment in front of her, he provided the options… "We can make passionate love all night long until you beg me to stop or…"

"I pick the first one!"

Greg's Apartment
9:22 p.m.

After walking his mom to her car, Greg strolled into the bedroom with the Pretty Woman video Tawny requested in hand. Ready to settle in for the night and watch the movie, nothing could have prepared him for the shock he felt upon entering the room. There standing before him was his significant other wearing the most hideously unflattering floor-length granny nightgown made out of a horrid shiny beige colored fabric which was printed with seven varieties of obnoxious house cats. "Oh!" He hoped his retinas weren't permanently scarred.

"Do you like it?" Tawny asked sweetly. "Your mom bought it for me. She said it's what all pregnant women wear to feel more comfortable and wow…" Exotically she ran her hands up and down the garment, purring like one of the cats depicted on it. "…she really knows what she's talking about too because I love it! I want to rush right out and buy three more just like it."

"Please tell me you're kidding," Greg begged in a frantic tone while trying to decide what he would do if she said no and insisted on dressing in the same type of nightgown his grandma used to wear. For a man who had next to no limits when it came to creativity and open mindedness, Tawny had managed to find something that was a complete turn off...granny role play. Much to his surprise, Greg realized he did indeed have sexual boundaries.

"I'm just yanking your chain, Greggy." Cracking up, she tugged the garment over her head to reveal the fact she was wearing only her trademark CFMs, a red leather g-string and a necktie falling ever so nicely between the twins. "I bought the tie for you to wear. How do you like it?" She had purposely picked a conservative grey and red striped one that would have only looked right at a Republican senior-citizens convention.

"Uh…" While the verbal portion of his brain struggled, the visual area worked overtime. "It's uh…it's a little different than something I would normally wear but…"

"We're not going to be watching that movie, Greg." In Pretty Woman, Vivian just sat at the table wearing the tie. In this homage, Tawny planned to kick it up a notch…feeling confident her take on the scene would be superior. Strutting over, she asked in a pouty tone, "Is the tie too conservative for you?"

"Not when you're wearing it with nothing under it!" He gushed with the excitement of a school boy catching a glimpse of his first boob.

"Were you hoping for something…" Taking the tie in her hands, she stroked it. "...a little more wild?"

As the serotonin surged through his brain, he complacently stated, "Hey…if you want me to wear it out, I'll be more than happy to…"

"Who said anything about wearing it out, Baby?" With stripper flair she undid the knot of the tie and after running it around her neck and down her body, she growled, "I want you to wear it right here, right now."

Chomping at the bit, he happily cooperated. "Your command is my wish!" Grabbing the tie he proceeded to put it around his neck.

Reaching out, Tawny yanked the tie, snatching it back. "I was thinking it would look better around your wrists…if that's okay with you?"

"Okay?" Greg gawked at the woman's mouth, the very place where her silly question had tumbled from only a second ago. "That's like rhetorical, right?" With zeal he tossed the movie to the floor, dove into bed and presented his wrists thinking what guy wouldn't jump at the chance to be bossed around by his babe? Hell, the only thing missing to make it a perfect experience was a leather corset…not that he was complaining about the hand he was being dealt. "Did I forget to tell you what my middle name, Hojem, means in Norwegian? It means one who is happy to be your submissive slave boy anytime."

"Good to know." With a twinkle in her eye, Tawny straddled him and looped the stodgy tie around his right wrist, snuggly knotting it. "Was this one of your Becca Turnbull fantasies, Baby?" She inquired while lunging forward and threading the tie through the iron headboard while he watched from below. "Because all you have to do is ask and I'll make any one of those fantasies come true…and I guarantee you I'll be better than Becs."

"I'll make a detailed list as soon as my hands are free." Twitching with anticipation, Greg answered in a pleasurable chuckle, "As far as this being one of my Becca fantasies…are you kidding? At seventeen? Back then having Becca brush up against me while wearing her tennis whites was the epitome of kinky! This kind of thing would have caused me to stroke out just thinking about it." He laughed harder as she continued her handiwork. "Actually uh…even at the age of thirty, my brain is close to a pleasure-induced hemorrhage…but don't let that stop you, because when I die, I guarantee you I'll be dying a happy man."

"Well then, dead man…" Tawny graciously asked, "…any last requests? This is the only chance you get because after this…I'm the only one calling the shots."

"Yeah…just one request." Squirming beneath her he joked, "After all is said and I've been done, make sure you untie me and toss my dead body to the floor. Then you can strip the bed and wash the sheets. That way, my mother won't know how I died but, the guys at work will be able to figure it out real easy from the ligature marks and DNA analysis. They'll be able to pin it to you though, so feel free to use the twenty grand my mom gave me to head for the border and set you and my bambino up in Mexico. Gracias!

Shaking with laughter, which she knew pleased her man considering the circumstances, Tawny obliged. "I promise." Then she whispered in his ear, "I'll be back in two minutes with a Magic 8 Ball, whipped cream and a gallon of ice cream."

"Dairy and fortune telling…looks like I'm getting lactose lucky tonight!" And as he relaxed to enjoy the ride, wherever it may lead, Greg thanked heaven that some prayers…even if it took years…were answered.

The Grissoms
9:25 p.m.

Gil was sitting in his favorite overstuffed leather chair in the living room when Sara came strolling in with her hands behind her back.

"I called the lab and spoke with JoAnn. It's a quiet night and she's covering for you, so you've got an extra hour to relax before you have to go." Then, looking like the cat that ate the canary she announced, "Time to open your last gift…the personal one."

Grinning at his wife he joked, "Were you waiting to see if I would play nice with my daddy before you gave it to me?"

"No…" Shaking her head, she eased onto his lap, presenting the small box wrapped in gold paper adorned with a burgundy bow. "But I'm very proud that you did."

"There were some pleasant moments," He confessed while slipping his arm around her waist. "And some bittersweet ones. I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to have him around for all the other birthdays. You know, the first year after getting dumped by him on my birthday, my mom tried to make the occasion elaborate. It made it worse and I asked if we could please not celebrate it again."

"I can empathize." Sighing, she rested her head on his shoulder. "My first year in foster care, the foster mom tried to make my birthday special…it was only a couple of months after the incident. It's hard to feel special when you're in a strange house with a strange family and all the kids at school are making you feel like a freak because your mom killed your dad. A pretty cake and balloons didn't make much of a difference."

"I suppose not." Gently, he brushed the hair dangling over her face and said, "You know what my mom did instead of giving me a party from there on out?"

"What?"

Watching her eyes, he said, "She made me my favorite chicken casserole dinner."

"That I didn't know," Sara admitted while pondering the significance. "How odd that I found that cookbook in a box I had the urge to open in the garage and found her note that it was your favorite meal. Almost like she reached out from beyond and…"

"Is stretching coincidence into something spiritual a sign of pregnancy?"

Amusement flickered in her eyes. "I believe it is in some cultures…maybe Aboriginal? I'll have to check my source and get back to you." Handing over the box she suggested, "In the mean time let's focus on this."

"You've done too much already, Sara."

"Just open the box and love me."

Her statement brought a smile to his face. "I'm doing the second part while the box is still closed." Freeing his arm from around his wife's waist he removed the wrapping and cracked open what he had correctly assumed was a watch box.

"It's a Tag Heuer chronograph watch with a scratch resistant sapphire crystal face. Water resistant to 200 meters and made of Titanium so it should hold up at work. Do you like it?" She curiously asked while seeing a clear answer in his expression.

"Yes, I do."

"Maybe you should put your glasses on."

He removed the watch from the box and pulled his glasses out of his pocket so he could see the details on the black face.

"Now that you have your glasses on, turn it over," She instructed while her smile grew.

"Ah…there's a method to your madness." When he turned it over, the words jumped from the back of the watch straight into his heart.

Gil,
Every minute
our love
grows stronger.
Sara

"I love it," He exhaled as his eyes shifted from the engraving to his loving wife's watery eyes. "I love you."

"Did you enjoy your birthday, Honey?"

"More than I ever thought I could. My first birthday kiss is still my favorite part." Clutching the watch he brought his lips to Sara's, thanking her in a delicate kiss for caring enough to make the day so special. "Do you feel it?" He tenderly asked when they parted. "A minute just passed."

Greg's Apartment
10:55 p.m.

While Tawny dried her hair in the bathroom and did her rather lengthy nightly beauty routine, Greg sat at the desk in the living room, writing in his significant other's Algebra notebook. When he heard her padding down the hall towards the living room he started writing frantically.

"Whatcha doin?" Tawny inquired as she approached the desk. Sitting at the desk in his Abercrombie blue polka-dot boxers with his damp hair mussed, he looked adorable.

Tucking the pen inside the appropriate page, Greg closed the notebook and stood. "I just finished jotting down my list of fantasies for you."

"Oh." Although she didn't mind him taking her up on the offer, she was a bit surprised how quickly he jumped to make the list. "I guess we better squeeze them in before I get huge. Unless Becca was pregnant in your fantasies."

"Definitely not." He laughed, "But she was in my mom's nightmares."

After a chuckle she confessed, "After the baby is born I probably won't be up for a lot of adventure right away."

"Nah, I think you'll be able to handle some of my fantasies even then." After a big yawn Greg kissed Tawny's cheek. "I know I said I was going to do some reading out here while you did your Algebra homework on the computer but, I think I better catch some Z's. Long day. Very tired. Thanks again for the fun." Without looking back he disappeared down the hall. "Night."

"Um…okay…good night." Greg's ho-hum behavior after just having so much fun, not to mention his lack of an I love you before heading to bed on this first special day of saying I love you, got Tawny down. Plopping into the office chair feeling blue, she eyed the notebook wondering exactly how much he intended to take advantage of her generous offer. Curiosity getting the best of her, she flipped open the page he had marked with a pen. When she saw what he had written, her face exploded into a smile.

The Fantasies of Greg Sanders - Summer 1992 Edition:

Kiss a girl
Get kissed by a girl
Lose my virginity

(The 1st two were fulfilled in 1993 and the 3rd in 1997 – I know you can do the math.)

The Fantasies of Greg Sanders - Summer 2005 Edition:

Meet the woman of my dreams
Fall crazy in love
Say 'I love you' to the woman of my dreams
Hear the woman of my dreams say 'I love you too'
Make love with the woman of my dreams
Have the hottest sex of my life
Get a bigger place to live in with the woman of my dreams
Bring the woman of my dreams to my parents' home in California
Steal and destroy my mother's photo album

Tawny, thank you for making my fantasies realities.
I only have the last three to complete and there's still time.
Much better track record than the summer of '92, don't you think!

The Fantasies of Greg Sanders - Future Edition:

Beat Tawny at Boggle
Beat Grissom at poker
Get engaged
Get married
Become a dad
Be a great dad
Buy a hamster for my kid
Get a really nice house for my family
Have a second baby with my wife ( if it's okay with her)
Take Grissom's job when he retires (and be even better at it than him)
Continue having hot sex and making love with my wife until the day I die
Never stop being quirky and funny no matter how tough my job or life gets
Live every day to its fullest
Live happily ever after with my wife
(I'm sure I'll add more, but I think this is a good start)

I honestly have no idea when any of these things will happen but…
I can't imagine enjoying any of them without you in my life.
I love you, Tawny.

Greg Sanders, Chemist-CSI-Visionary

With tears fueled by a powerful combination of pregnancy hormones and love slipping down her cheeks, Tawny clutched the notebook and hurried for the bedroom. But when she arrived, she found the man of her dreams sound asleep, snuggled between the fresh sheets and the down comforter.

Tiptoeing over to the bed, she placed a tender kiss on his lips. "Sweet dreams, Greg. I know I'll be having plenty of my own tonight." As she left the room, she heard Bev Sanders's advice echo in her head…

Greg doesn't respond well to direct heavy-handed pressure. He does best when he's supported and given a chance to get comfortable with something at his own pace. The good news is, once he arrives at a decision, he throws himself in with two feet and when he's passionate about something, he digs his hooks in and hangs on for dear life.

Returning to the computer, Tawny took a deep breath and reminded herself to follow Bev's advice and not pressure Greg for a ring or a promise. Glancing over at the notebook she smiled. The fantasy list was his roundabout way of saying I need some time before moving any further so please don't pressure me. But, I also didn't want you to worry because when the time is right, it's going to be you.

August 18, 2005 (Day 118)
Paris Hotel
Room 714
12:01 a.m.

Twined under the sheets, Carrie and Nick, with their hair still damp from their shower, continued to bask in the afterglow of their passionate night when the clock on the nightstand reflected the start of a new day.

"It's officially your birthday." Carrie marked the occasion with a tender kiss followed with a smile. "Happy Birthday, Nicky."

"Thank you. I can't imagine a better way to spend my birthday than with my fiancée." He sighed with pleasure as he drank in the love in her eyes. "I take that back…yes I can."

"Excuse me?" Her eyes narrowed. "Explanation please."

"Relax, Darlin' and let me finish." He raced his fingers through her hair and grinned. "I think it will be even better next year when I'm spending it with my wife. And in the future, I'm looking forward to spending it with my wife and kids. I can see it in my head…it's ten years from now and I'm having the best birthday."

"Now there's the stuff pleasant dreams are made of," She whimsically remarked before being overcome by a yawn. "Describe what you see."

Turning her so they could spoon, he shared his vision in a whisper in her ear. "All of us are at the dining room table…you, me, our two sons and our two daughters. The littlest one, a girl, is on my lap and you're lighting the candles on the homemade chocolate cake the kids helped you bake…it's a mess but I know it's going to be the sweetest cake I've ever tasted. Then y'all break into Happy Birthday. You're horribly off key but it's the most beautiful music I've ever heard. You ask me to make a wish but I'm having a hard time coming up with anything because I've got everything I need right in that room…which prompts me to wish for life to continue just the way it is. And while you slice the cake, the kids hand me homemade cards and tackle me saying I love Daddy. And when their arms are choking me, I look over at you and see the same beautiful girl I fell in love with ten years earlier and I fall in love with her all over again. How does that sound, Darlin'?"

"Hmm…I'm not sure, what's the second option?" She teased while glancing over her shoulder.

Pecking her lips, he replied, "The cake has vanilla frosting instead of chocolate."

"Oooh, then I'll have to pick the first one."

"I'm sensing a pattern." Once again he captured her lips, this time imparting a good night kiss.

"Sweet dreams, Birthday Boy."

"Absolutely."

The story continues in: Bluffs, Encounters and Calls - the 6th installment in the Feasbility Study series. It will post on 4/29 under a higherM rating and therefore not show up under "Just In".

Chapters 3,4, 5 & 7 will be edited to fit the standards of this website (no song lyrics) and consequently be missing some content/meaning). The full versions will be available on my website by going to my author profile and clicking on the homepage link.

This will be first time chapters 3 and up will be posted on this website.

Thanks,

Maggs