Chapter 17

Grissom and Sara stood, silently watching Greg and Ecklie walking across the dry dirt-packed parking lot. Grissom lifted his hand and scratched the back of his neck. Did he hear right? Did Conrad Ecklie just advise him to go inside a motel room and sleep with Sara Sidle? He looked up at the morning sky and wondered if the sun was hot enough to cause a heat stroke because surely that would be the only explanation. Yes. That was it. Between Sophia's escapade and the sun, Conrad's blood pressure surged through the roof and he ruptured a vessel in his brain! The sudden giggling next to him turned his attention to the beautiful brunette he was supposed to be "sleeping" with. What started as a restrained giggle turned into an out and out laugh as he watched her. What the hell was it around here? Is everyone suffering from heat stroke?

"You should see your face!" Sara laughed at him. "I think I could knock you over with a feather!"

"You "did" just hear Ecklie tell us to go in there together—and stay there—by ourselves for a significant amount of time. Right?"

"Mm-hmm," she nodded with bright eyes. "Are you going to argue with him about it? Or would you rather go get some of that sleep we evidently need so desperately?"

"No," he said quietly as he started to follow her inside. "No, I'm not going to argue with him about it."

"That's good to know." She closed the door behind them and went to the bed where she drew back the covers. "I was afraid I'd have to force you to go to bed."

He couldn't stop the smile when she grabbed onto the front of his shirt and turned him until they both fell onto the mattress and bounced, and he couldn't stop his laugh that joined hers when their combined weight broke through the bottom of the bed and the mattress and bed springs landed halfway on the floor.

"Ya gotta love this town," Grissom chuckled as he held his arms around her.

"Why couldn't Sophia have gotten this room? She probably isn't having any problems with her furniture." Sara's forearms rested on Grissom's chest as she stroked the sides of his face.

"Why should she be? I don't think a. . .mechanical device such as the "Purple Pile Driver" weighs as much as I do."

"You mean her. . ." Sara started laughing at him then her eyes grew larger. "Oh my God, is that what it's called? The Purple Pile Driver?"

"I don't know," he laughed at her. "I thought that up on my own. I'm not an expert on the models of exotic stimuli."

"Oh? Maybe you should become one. That's an amazing name for it!" She started giggling again at the thought of it. "The Powerful Purple Pile Driver! Guaranteed to drill a hole deep enough bury any sized pole!"

"Or your money back?" He smiled into her eyes.

"Oh, definitely."

"How about you? Do you think I could drill deep enough bury my pole?"

"I think you already have," she explained with a sparkle to her eyes.

"I think it needs to be installed again. The last hole seemed a little wobbly."

She laughed at him. "Are you saying I have a wobbly hole?"

"Maybe not a good simile." He thought for a moment. "Okay, the hole was so tight it nearly split the pole."

"Now you're saying I nearly broke your. . .pole?"

"Not yet, but I'm willing to try, if you are." He attempted to turn but the mattress shifted and they slid until she was wedged between the bed frame and the mattress with him on top.

"Umph!" She looked at the position they were now in. "Um, maybe we should think about switching to the other bed."

He got to his feet and pulled her out of her trap, then they both moved toward the other bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and deposited it on the chair, then sat down to remove his boots. By the time he stood up to remove his jeans, she was already sliding beneath the sheet wearing only her tee-shirt, panties and a big yawn. He stood above her in his tee-shirt and boxer/briefs with his initial intention being to slide in beside her and go back to sleep, but the more he looked at the outline of her legs beneath the sheet, the more he knew he couldn't let this opportunity pass by. He drew the linen back slowly, watching as inch-by-inch her legs became visible. She turned from her side, onto her back and when he finally looked up at her face he saw how she was watching him with a teasing smile.

"I can't seem to fall asleep," he told her with a returning smile.

"After trying so hard? Is there anything I can do to help?"

He sat on the edge of the bed near her calves and let his fingers slide up over her skin, bringing a shiver to her as he repeated his procedure. "I think you're already doing it, my dear."

He slid his hand up the inside of her leg this time and watched as her smile vanished and she squirmed the slightest bit. He couldn't seem to pass by the milky whiteness of her inner thighs and he bent to place a kiss midway up from her knee. He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt her anticipation. He wasn't going to make her wait as he moved his kiss farther up her thigh, pressing her legs apart to grant him access and when he bit the sensitive skin near the top he listened to her whimper. He turned his head slightly and let his tongue run up the length of her, over the satin of her panties, and he could feel her dampness collecting on the other side.

"Grissom," she breathed as her fingers went to his hair.

He grasped onto each side of the panties, letting his fingers lift the small string of elastic and realizing it would only take the slightest effort and she would be free of them. With a quick jerk, the elastic broke and he peeled the satin away from her then maneuvered himself until he was lying on the bottom of the bed and he began his feast. Over and over again, he let his tongue arouse her and used his fingers to heighten her excitement. He was only aware of two things, his excessive need to feed upon her, and the heavy, throbbing in his underwear. He felt torn between wanting to continue what he was doing and wanting to move and relieve the pressure in his body. Instead, he moved himself across the bed and grabbed onto her legs, dragging her until she was on top of him with her legs on either side of his head.

He listened to her whimper again upon their separation but when he returned to her with a vengeance, she moaned and nearly collapsed on top of him. In her elevated state of arousal, she quickly pushed his boxer/briefs down and released his "pole." She pounced on him and slid him between her lips. Her hunger had her hands at his base, working with her mouth as she bobbed and sucked as much as she was physically able to take. The room filled with mutual moans and whimpers, groans and sighs, and finally loud expressions of complete euphoria.

Slowly, she turned around and crawled up his body. He felt as if his heart was going to beat through his chest and he found it too much effort to open his eyes, but he still could feel her lying beside him with her leg over his, her hand on his chest and her nose nuzzling against his beard. He turned slightly and placed a kiss on her sweet lips. Slowly, their breaths came easier to them and he opened his eyes and looked down at where she was gazing up at him. He chuckled at the fact that she had been studying him, something that with anyone else would have made him nervous—but with Sara, he enjoyed it.

"Do you realize how extremely handsome you are?" She asked seriously, almost as if she weren't actually aware of saying it.

He self-consciously ran his hand over his face then looked back at her. "I think you see things in me that no else can."

"Hah!" she blurted and rolled on top of him again. "Don't even go there, Grissom."

"What?" He laughed at her as his hands began stroking over the sensitive skin of her behind.

"Okay, well, let's start with this trip to Hitchcockville! At the diner on the way here, you had Ella-Mae Clampett drooling after you, then in the general store, old Mrs. Olsen had to take several good looks at your butt, and Large Marge from the diner here in town looked like she wanted to dive right into your pants."

"Dive into my pants?" He chuckled at her again. "That's a vision, isn't it?"

"No!" She swatted his arm. "I don't want to envision it!"

"What about you? Do you have plans of diving into my pants?"

"I think I just did, didn't I?" She smiled at him. "And speaking of pants. You owe me a pair of underwear."

"I'll put them on my shopping list."

"Don't you want to know my size?"

He held his hands up with about a foot between them. "About this size."

"I'm sure the saleswoman will know exactly what you're talking about. Forget it. I'll get them myself."

"I bet if I went to the store down the street, "old Mrs. Olsen" would know what size I was talking about."

"Mm-hmm," she said as she yawned again. "I'd rather you not discuss the size of my butt with the store-owner's wife."

"Move over," he said as he kissed her forehead, then maneuvered them until they were laying the correct way in the bed. He pulled the sheet over them then allowed her to snuggle against him again.

"I'm too tired to talk about Mrs. Olsen or Ella-Mae or. . ."

"Large Marge," he supplied for her, feeling her relaxing against him already.

"Yeah, Large Marge," she sighed.