GRISSOM VS. THE DOMINATRIX
CHAPTER THREE
Heather shook him awake after two hours and regarded him cooly. She handed him a wet towel and he wiped himself off and muttered a thanks, avoiding her eyes.
"Uh. What do I owe you?" he asked clumsily.
"Five thousand dollars," Heather said, looking amused at his shocked face.
"No. This time was not for payment. Only because I have feelings for you."
Now he was even more alarmed. "What...kind...of feelings?" Grissom stammered.
"Oh, relax. I'm not in love with you, or expect you to fall in love with me! I'm attracted to you. I find you...interesting."
"Yes. I'm attracted to you as well, Heather."
"Of course."
"So. Uh. What happens now?"
Heather laughed with scorn. "Now? Now you put your pants on and go home."
"I know, but..."
"But...you want it again."
"Yes," Grissom said reluctantly.
"And you want it to be even more...intense."
He gulped and nodded.
"Then, you come back, for another session. You'll have to reserve it, though."
"I understand. Uh...how much time...?"
"In advance?" Heather's voice trilled with amusement at his expense. "Oh, let's say, eight hours? If I'm available, of course."
"Uh huh."
"The next time will not be free. I'm not running a charity."
"So it would be...five thousand a session," Grissom said slowly, his mind whirling.
"That's the standard rate. If we bring in another participant, or utilize the other rooms or equipment...there will be additional fees."
Fees? Rooms? Equipment? Whips and chains? Other participants to hurt and humiliate me? Leather masks? Dog collars? How far do you want this to go, Gilbert? Torture?
"Very well. I'll, um, be in touch," he said at last, his face confused, hurrying toward the door.
"You will be," Lady Heather answered, in a voice that sent a chill down his back.
It was only when Grissom was driving away that he realized he had still never even kissed Heather.
Yet I let her...begged her...to do those things to me. I let her fuck me. When she said eventually she would be able to fuck me hard–it got me excited. Even more excited. I want her to.
What does that say about me? Getting fucked and wanting to be fucked in the ass? Am I a heterosexual?
I said I needed to get laid. Does this...? Is this...?
I liked being tied down. I liked being dominated. A lot. Why?
The only abnormal sex is no sex.
'A perversion,' I called it. Is it a perversion if I enjoy it? Isn't it hypocritical to think if 'they' do it, it's wrong--if I want to it's okay? Yes.
Consenting adults...closed doors...to each his own...
Sodomite. Faggot.
Experimentation. Curious. Bi-curious. Freud's theory of fluid sexual natures...
I'm Heather's bitch.
Two-spirits. Bedarches. Greek warriors.
What is a freak? What is a pervert? Who decides?
David and Jonathan. Jesus never mentioned sexual orientation or behavior. He said, 'Love thy neighbor as thyself. Love God with all your heart.' All the rest...are less important than those two...instructions...laws...injunctions.
Queer. Sick fucking bastard. Deviant. Abnormal sexual behavior.
What is normal sex? What is normal...anything?
"Gil!" Catherine's annoyed voice broke in.
"What!" Grissom said, startled.
"I've been saying your name for five minutes! Do you have our assignments or what?"
"Ah...sign...ments."
"Yes, Gil," she said caustically. "Assignments, remember? Cases, crime scenes, evidence? Ring any bells?
"Ha ha. I'll be in in a minute."
Catherine went out muttering. Grissom gathered his wits and his papers and followed.
And there was Sara, pretty Sara, giving him a nice smile. Oh, Sara. Why don't you come home with me? Grissom stared dumbstruck at her as the others murmured and exchanged looks. She dropped her eyes and her smile and looked confused. Warrick poked him.
"You feeling okay, boss man?"
"I'm fine." Grissom said brusquely. "Okay. Assignments. Slow night. Nick has court in the morning. Catherine, you and Warrick and Greg on a double in Henderson. Sara, you're with me." Shit! Why did I say that! Now I'm going to be tongue-tied all night. Shit! I'm an idiot! Too late now!
He was dimly aware that a paper was snatched from his hand. The next thing he knew he was standing in the same position, alone in the room with Sara, who was looking in his face with concern.
"Grissom?"
"Yes, Sara?"
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"You...and I...have a case?"
"Yes! Of course. Let's go."
"Let's go where?"
"To the crime scene."
"Duh. Is it a DB? A decomp? Do I need any special equipment? Coveralls? What?"
"You tell me," Grissom said desperately, thrusting the slip in her hand. "You drive."
"Uh, sure. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Fine," he snapped. "Just have...a lot on my mind."
"Sorry," Sara muttered.
Grissom then made a painful attempt to be jolly as they drove on. Sara just looked at him oddly and laughed nervously. At the scene, Grissom went to his fallback position and became silent and preoccupied, only barking a response to direct questions. The hours crawled by. Sara looked more and more hurt as the night went on.
Grissom took a look in those dewy sad brown eyes gazing at him and was lost and ashamed.
"I'm sorry, Sara."
"Okay. That's a start. Will you please tell me what's going on?"
"I can't. Why don't we..." Go to dinner.
No! She will think I'm making fun of her for asking me out.
Sara waited a beat, then two. I can't read your mind, Gris. Help me out here.
No! Rejection! What can I say to her? Abort!
"Uh. Finish up here."
"Gosh. What a great idea," Sara said sarcastically. "If you hadn't told me, I might never have left."
Grissom gave her a wan smile and they went back to work.
TBC