Sara had been astounded when, upon entering work the next morning, Grissom had handed her a case file and said simply, "This is your interview." Thinking perhaps he was angry, she let her own temper rise to the fore. Upon opening the case file, however, she felt her anger dissolve into astonishment.

The case file was Lady Heather's.

For long moments she stood there, staring blankly at the black and white photo of the renowned dominatrix. She was completely aware of Grissom's previous infatuation with the woman, and was also acutely aware that the infatuation was not a one way occurrence. When he'd made the announcement to her the night previous, she had simply assumed he meant she'd be going with Nick, Warrick, or Catherine. So why on earth had he given her this assignment alone…?

"Sara?"

She snapped out of her reverie, blinking into focus Grissom's bespectacled face standing several feet away. Confused, she muttered, "What?"

"We're on the clock. You should get going."

She opened her mouth to ask him what he was thinking, and why he had done this, but he turned away and hurried down the hall, clearly heading to Trace. For a moment she contemplated running after him and asking him if this was some sort of demented game, if he had done this because he knew how much it would hurt. Realization struck her then that perhaps he was oblivious, like he always was, and for some reason that pained her more than her previous suspicion. Even should she ask him, she was fairly certain he wouldn't give her an answer, at least not an honest one. And so it was with a resigned sigh that she closed the case file and headed for the parking lot.

She stood outside a house of pain.

For long minutes she lingered on the sidewalk, standing at the rear of her SUV and wishing fervently that she had been given any other assignment. She wasn't entirely certain that she could face this woman, this rival, and do her job to the best of her capabilities. And with a grim, bitter smile she silently amended her thoughts: Lady Heather wasn't a rival. In order for that to be true, Grissom would have to have been involved with Sara somehow …

"Damnit." She muttered abruptly, angrily. She was a professional; nothing would stand in the way of her job. And so it was with long, determined strides that she walked up the cobblestone sidewalk and knocked on the door using the antique gargoyle knocker. Seconds passed while she waited anxiously; it wasn't long before she heard the tell-tale tap tap of a woman's heels approaching the door.

It opened softly, the noise belying its heavy, ancient appearance. And quite suddenly Sara found herself face to face with an immediately intimidating woman. Her eyes encompassed every minute detail of Lady Heather, cataloguing, measuring. The dominatrix had an Amazon build; she was tall, voluptuous and darkly alluring. Hair the color of rich mahogany fell in a shining mass to grace her shoulders; a thick fringe of bang swept across her pale forehead. Piercing green eyes, lined with heavy dark liner, regarded Sara with mild curiosity from beneath elegant arched brow. Sara knew that her lips, painted a screaming shade of red, had fascinated Grissom once …

"Can I help you?" Lady Heather asked in a voice that spoke of culture and eloquence.

"I'm –"

"A CSI," The other supplied, a trace of a smile curving her crimson lips. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

Sara gave her own smile, trying to make it friendly, "A current investigation. I'm here to ask you a few questions."

Lady Heather's eyes flicked up and down Sara twice, giving Sara a view of some smoky, almost brown, eye-shadow. The corner of her mouth moved up slightly. "Certainly," she pushed the door open further, "Do come in."

Sara looked around the front room from where she stood in the doorway. It was cool; the air-conditioning caused a gentle circulation in the house. She could smell sex, a strong musky order that climbed up the walls. It was mixed, mingling in her nose with something like incense, perhaps oils of some kind. An array of candles burned from beneath a large mirror.

She took what she hoped was a silent, yet deep breath and berated herself for acting as though something would leap out at her. She could almost hear a low chuckle from the woman ahead of her. After pushing the door shut, Sara straightened her spine and followed Lady Heather.

It was difficult, not to look around at the people in the house. Men and woman, all in various states of undress or bondage were milling in rooms. Cigarette smoke puffed out of one room, and yet another had a strobe light flickering frantically. She could feel her cheeks get warm, and tried to concentrate on Lady Heather. A muffled set of cries and the cracking sound of something hitting flesh made Sara snap her head over the tall railing. She touched the dark wood and peered down into a pit of sorts.

"Would you like a tour?" Lady Heather's voice was all too close to her, Sara jumped around, earning another amused smile. It was a strain all of a sudden not to get irritated with the other woman. Before Sara could comment, Lady Heather led her into a surprisingly white room. The tall woman motioned to a table. "What kind of tea do you drink?"

"I … chamomile," Sara replied, taken aback at the sudden change in surroundings. This room looked as if it had been taken directly out of some 18th century manor; everything looked as if it were antique and incredibly expensive. The table and matching chairs, made of mahogany almost identical in color to Lady Heather's hair, were carved in exquisite detail.

With a graceful wave of her hand, the dominatrix gestured for Sara to sit, and feeling more and more awkward with every passing moment Sara lowered herself gingerly to occupy a chair.

"Do you take sugar or honey?" The Lady asked, pouring steaming tea into delicate china with deft hands. Sara remembered hearing once that Grissom had shared a similar experience in this very place … Shaking her head minutely, Sara murmured, "No, thank you."

The Lady set the cup and saucer down gently before Sara and took her own seat. Wanting to leave this place as soon as possible, Sara launched into her questions without preamble, "Do you know a man named Hector?"

Again Lady Heather chuckled, leaning forward and cupping her chin in her hands. "I know quite a few of them my dear." Leaning back and taking a slow sip of her own tea, she continued. "You can relax you know, no one is going to leap out from under my table and bite you."

For a moment Sara stared at the Lady, surprised that she was so easily read. Against her will, a smile slowly formed. "Alright. And I'll rephrase my question. Do you know a man named Coren Hector?"

The red corner of her mouth turned down. "Ahh, yes, I do. He hasn't been around here lately, and that is odd. He's got a thing for one of the girls here." She dipped an ice cube into the teacup, careful not to get her nails wet. "I didn't care for him myself, quite boorish." She slipped the cube into her mouth, white teeth crunching the small chip of ice. She then sipped her tea again. "Much better. He was a rather rude fellow; the girls said he made up for it with- impressive endowments. What could I help you with about him?"

"Do you know where he spent his time when he wasn't here?"

"I do not." Again she surveyed Sara. "May I ask you a question?"

"Uh ... sure, I guess."

"How is Grissom?" The question was genuine.

The question was unexpected; it took several moments for Sara to formulate a response. She stared at the Lady, gauging her emotionless face and wondering if perhaps she'd deliberately asked that question in order to make her uneasy. If that was the case, she thought grimly, the Lady was going to be unpleasantly surprised.

"He's … Grissom," she replied calmly, for that was as good an explanation as any. "Always working."

"Annoying isn't it?" Lady Heather continued. "When you just want to have a conversation…"

Sara shrugged. "It's who he is. We all have our faults."

"We do, but it is difficult, to deal with a man that keeps so much from even himself. He truly is an intelligent man, but, a man, none the less." She got up from the table, flipping the pages of a book beside her. "I can tell you that Hector has not been here for almost a week. Five days to be exact." She crossed over to stand behind Sara, sitting the book next to her teacup and pointing. Then she breathed in and smiled. "Well, you're heart is in it at least."

Sara scowled, beginning to lean very quickly towards the decision to get up, leave, and tell Grissom to do this on his own. This was fast becoming degrading. "My … what?"

The woman placed her hands on Sara's shoulders, making a little tsk noise and then slowly rubbing her tense places. "You put on perfume. Women do not do that unless they haven't showered, or if they care about a person's perception of them. Scent is a powerful thing."

Sara felt the heat rise in her cheeks and ducked her head to hide the flush. She had put on perfume today –why, she wasn't sure. As a rule CSIs didn't wear the stuff, because it interfered with their other senses that were needed for processing a scene. But today, on a whim, she'd added just a smidgen to the pulse in her neck. She hadn't even thought it was noticeable ….

Very quickly she stood, sliding off the chair and putting several steps between herself and the Lady. "Look," she said tersely. "I'm here to ask you questions; anything else is redundant. If you prefer," she added, hoping that the Lady would agree to her next suggestion, "I can send someone else over to do the questioning."

Cocking her head, Lady Heather frowned. "Oh, and here I thought that the two of us were getting along."

Sara exhaled slowly; she couldn't do this … could she? Very deliberately she forced herself to meet the shrewd eyes of the dominatrix. "All that's required of you is to answer what I ask you. No more than that. Understood?"

Lady Heather crossed to sit back down again. "I do, perfectly." She pulled the daybook to her lap. "The two of you must be astonishing to watch. Both overanalyzing the other's action, both trying to keep the job in between you, and yet, both of you wanting so badly to open up." She marked a page. "Such a shame." Closing the book she looked up. "I can get you video, audio, and my date books that have Hector involved if you need them."

Sara's mouth hung open momentarily, until she closed it with a snap. "You know nothing about me," she emphasized, feeling defenseless suddenly against this woman who saw everything with perfect clarity.

Lady Heather smiled again. "I do not know you personally, but I've made it my life to know people, my dear." She took a sip of her tea. "And I doubt you would be so agitated if I didn't hit so close to home."

Sarah realized suddenly that she couldn't deny what the Lady had said; she'd summarized the situation between Grissom and Sarah perfectly without batting an eyelash. Striving to maintain her quickly deteriorating facade, Sarah said, "The videos and the date books would be greatly appreciated-"

A man's scream, echoing from somewhere within the dungeon like depths of the house, interrupted her speech. Her cheeks reddened again; feeling the heat rise Sarah ducked her head and cleared her throat. "When can I send someone to collect them?"

"I was hoping you would come get them yourself. I'd like to speak with you again." Lady Heather slid out from the chair smoothly. "You don't have to take everything as seriously as you do your job."

"I ... uh ..." Taken aback once again, Sarah fumbled through her coat pocket to find one of the cards with her number. Did she want to come back here? Not really, but at the same time part of her was intrigued by this alluring, enigmatic woman who saw her more clearly than anyone else.

Finding a card, she stepped forwards and handed it to the Lady. "Sure," she muttered finally, stepping back again. "Just - just call me when you have them ready."

Lady Heather's red tipped nails slid lightly along Sara's hand as she took the card. "I'll get right on it, dear." Her hands were warm.

Disconcerted, Sara mumbled her goodbye. The Lady smiled and there was something Cheshire about it. "I'll show you out," she said, and without another word turned and led the way back to the door.

"Thank you," Sara said upon reaching the door, and opened it quickly.

"Until next time," Lady Heather said. There was something in her tone that made Sara stop and glance back, but the door was already closed.