Your Adored One
Chapter 3: Months Earlier
Sara was tired. Grissom exhausted. They sat in his office mulling over a possible dinner but what they needed, wanted, was a stiff drink. She was afraid to bring it up because of her near DUI. He afraid for the same reasons.
The case had been horrendous. A family of five. He was a science professor, she a stay home mom. One child had survived. Elizabeth. She was now with her maternal grandparents who were still barely aware of their own pungent grief. Sara was glad she had somewhere to go. She had been comforted by the five year old running towards her grandfather as he had approached the house.
Everyone should have someone to run to she thought.
They had looked wearily at one another. She missed Nick. He missed Catherine. A drink. Maybe a little food. Some solace.
They had ended up at Martie's who was used to seeing the quiet scientist with one beautiful woman or another, the tiny strawberry blonde, the dark haired heavy lidded woman perfumed with secrets and the willowy brunette who seemed his equal.
She sipped the wine. He guzzled the beer, and then switched to bourbon. Her own grandfather had told her never to date man that couldn't handle a stiff drink. Her grandfather would have liked Gil Grissom with his quiet maleness and quiet contemplation.
Without realizing it, both were starving and the plate of tapas disappeared in minutes. He watched as Sara licked rich pesto sauce from her fingers. He waved to Al and spoke in quiet precise Italian tinged with his mother's rural accent.
"Did you just order food for me?" Sara asked.
"Yes."
Sara was quiet for a moment. "What did you order?"
"For you, fettuccini with Garlic and Pesto. For me, Angel Hair with their mother's sauce."
Sara looked down at the empty tapas platter.
"What?" Grissom said in a lazy voice.
"What if I don't like what you ordered?" She said lightly.
"A man should never have a serious meal with a woman he can't order for. It cheapens the sanctity of the meal."
Sara smiled and fingered her wine glass. "I wonder if he ordered for her."
The dead couple. The case still hovered over them both.
"I just keep telling myself that they wouldn't have go on without the other. Not sure I believe that with the children and all."
Sara was certain her next question was inappropriate but the wine made it more palatable. "Their sex life was very um…."
Grissom had longed to avoid this conversation with Sara. That did not seem possible.
"Vigorous?"
Sara blushed and waved her hand vaguely. "I can't imagine anyone tying me up."
"Water finds its own level. They were very happy."
Sara nodded. "Yes they were. We don't see that much. We hardly ever see it in our business."
"We could be happy." Sara thought. "I could make you happy."
Gil signaled to the slim waiter that had replaced Al. Sara was surprised to see him switched to red wine.
"Won't that make you sick? Mixing alcohol?"
"I know myself." He explained as he shook his head. His hair was long. That happened in the winter. She wanted to touch the thick curls.
"I suppose you have to know yourself for someone to tie you up." She spoke slowly, measuring her words, hoping she wasn't tipsy yet.
Sara buried her nose in her wine glass and took a too large sip.
He found her completely irresistible when she was embarrassed or shy.
He watched Sara flick her fingers. She wore nail polish. He pointed to a glossy nail.
"New boyfriend?"
"New leaf. I never polish my nails because I think I will just ruin them act work. I straighten my hair because it's better for work. I own no shoes that aren't sensible. Again work. I have started thinking about what's best for Sara."
"I don't like your hair straight." He admitted.
"You don't?"
He shook his head. "It's like you are trying to tame something that should not be tamed. Women should not be tamed. Men should learn that."
"Then why would a man want to tie a woman up?" She blurted.
Gil turned her words over in his mind. Sara. Always asking the questions. Ones he wanted to answer and ones he did not. He looked at her long neck for a time then her dark eyes. "I am a male chauvinist so I am probably not the best one to answer."
Sara narrowed her eyes. "You are not a chauvinist."
He laughed. "No I am not. I just thought I could get you to change the subject."
"Nice try."
She squared her shoulders and caught his sparkling eyes. "So why would a man want to tie a woman up?"
"I am sure it has something to do with control issues. The need to be trusted. The need to be believed in."
"Huh…"
"What?"
"When you say like that it doesn't sound so…"
"Depraved?"
"No."
"Kinky?"
"Yes."
Their plates of food arrived steaming and fragrant. More wine was consumed and by the end of the meal Sara felt content and sensual. She pulled her shoulders close to her ears and sighed. He liked knowing that she had eaten a good meal. That maybe she would sleep. He worried about her constantly, didn't know how to move his worry to action. Didn't want to be trapped by her knowing he already was trapped, had been for some time.
She bit her lip and seemed to settle on something. Women always did the choosing.
"You ever tie anyone up Gris?"
He nodded. Though he was sure he shouldn't.
"How many?"
He held up one finger. Sara rubbed an index finger over her thumb. "Old girlfriend?" Sara ventured.
He smiled noncommittally and forward. "I should not answer that question."
"But you are going to." She smiled. Truth was he could hardly deny her anything sober or not.
Women knew more about their man than any woman would care to admit or any man wanted to know.
"Do you want to tie me up Grissom?"
The waiter returned and whispered something to Grissom.
He held her gaze. "My Sara will have something rich and sweet."
He held her gaze for a full minute. "Sara. If I tell you this, I will want more…I won't turn back."
"You have never turned back Grissom. Every no was a yes. No man expends as much energy trying to keep a woman he truly doesn't want at bay."
"I am not just any man Sara."
The unspoken words hovered in the air. He was her man.
"Do you want to tie me up Grissom?"
Sara barely noticed the waiters hand slip between them resting the tray of fruit covered with dark chocolate. She was sure that the courage to play the vixen was wine and weariness driven. He knew it was not. Time had caught up with them.
He picked a sliver of something and touched it to his lips first then to Sara's.
"So very much my dear." He signaled for the check.
TBC