I don not own CSI

Rated M - mature/sexual theme

Sorry for the delay in updating.

Lack of reviews = lack of creativity.

Even summaries aren't able to be written without praise.

Reviews are to me what stickers are to kindergartners.

Trista couldn't see anything but blackness.

And, aside from her own thoughts echoing inside her head, she couldn't hear anything either.

But, surprisingly, she could feel.

And what Trista felt was someone slapping her face over and over firmly.

She wondered why.

She wondered who.

She thought she suddenly heard some sort of mumbling…and so she listened harder.

She wondered if it was God…or worse.

But, finally, the sound came in a little bit clearer and she realized it was a voice…and it certainly wasn't God's.

"Hey…hey…" Jared said staring at her closed eyes and slapping her cheeks again.

Trista could hardly hear him but she felt his tapping and it was bringing her back around.

"Hey, hey, Krista," he said a little louder, "You're supposed to like this…

Trista didn't answer…she simply began to slip, her body limp and slowly dragging down the wall again, barely conscious.

"Whoa, Honey, you gotta be awake…what the hell, woman!" he said pulling her back up the wall and slapping her cheek again to wake her.

Trista opened her eyes and, looking dazed and confused, she stared into his .

She wanted to tell him she was alive, but she couldn't speak… not only because she was inebriated, but because she was shocked to still be breathing the Las Vegas air.

She was still alive.

She had never been so relieved in her life.

And then she realized the man in front of her was the guy with the big, gold, watch who she danced with inside the club. She also realized she was still in the alley with him and he was still talking to her.

"Don't pass out on me before I get my dick inside you, Krista! You gotta wait till I start fuckin' ya…then I will squeeze off your oxygen, okay? Haven't you ever done this before?" Jared asked.

Trista squinted so she could see only one of him instead of the double she was seeing.

She didn't even know that a tear slid down her cheek until it dripped onto Jared's hand that was on her shoulder.

He felt it hit the top of his hand. Moving it away, he wiped it on his pants. He looked at her and tilted his head. He thought for a minute. Then, he smiled, raised his hand and, as he went up to brush some hair out of her face, she winced with a look of fear.

"Whoa, hey…" he laughed at her. "Ya know, I was only kidding about killing you…you do know that right?" he furrowed his brow, "I mean, choking sex is fucking great but if you don't want to then just say so…I won't force you to do that!"

"I don't want to," she finally whispered so quietly he barely heard her.

"You don't? You don't want to? Is that what you just said?" he asked unsure.

"I don't want to…I don't want to do any of this," she whispered feeling extremely ashamed of herself.

"Yes, yes you do…you're just…here, let me make you feel better," he said and kissed her lips and moving his hand up her dress again.

Finding the crotch of her bikini bottoms, he began to rub the center of the material that covered her mound and focused on stoking her slit.

"Let me get you hot and wet," Jared said and began sucking her neck as he rubbed her.

Trista still didn't want to mess around anymore but she knew she led this guy on way to much to turn back now…at this point she was just glad she wasn't dead.

As he kissed her neck she felt him move the material of her bikini bottoms to the side and rub his finger around in search of her opening.

She closed her eyes and blocked it out; she could no longer see, but she still heard his zipper go down.

"Scoot off the wall a little… I need to get your panties down…here let me help you," he said as he put his hand on the small of her back and pulled her forward.

Trista wobbled and nearly tipped over but Jared held her up with his shoulder and, while he stabilized her with his body, he tried to pull her panties down at the same time. It wasn't an easy task.

He chuckled with frustration, "You are making me work for this, huh, you sexy, little, bitch…but c'mon, you've kept me waiting way too long…we should have been fucking wildly by now…you realize that? I think I have been really patient, don't you?" he told her.

Trista knew he managed to get both his hands up her dress as she was lifelessly propped forward onto his chest. She could feel his fingers grab each side of her swimsuit bottoms and grip them in his fists. She knew they would be sliding down shortly so she took a deep breath and began to get lost in herself.

This was her fault…this wasn't his. This mistake rested solely on her shoulders; she knew that…she took the blame. At this point the only thing she was hoping for was to just get it over with quickly and she would try to forgive herself later.

Jared moved her back against the wall. He was having a hard time getting the bikini bottoms down.

"You wearing a bathing suit?" he asked smiling.

Trista couldn't answer…she didn't care enough to. She was completely numb.

"Damn, you were swimming and came here to get laid? Man, that is even hotter!" he said as he stroked the side of her face. "You have to be one of the hottest girls in this place. I know you are worth the fuckin' wait…" he smiled and pushed her dress up with his forearms to just below her hips. He smiled at her bikini bottoms…

"Oh Hell yes, you were swimming…you got that bikini top on, too?" he asked.

Trista still couldn't speak but she thought she might have shook her head "no". She just wasn't sure. but a glow on the night

And, from the looks of Jared, he didn't seem to care about the answer. He was too busy unzipping his pants impatiently; he couldn't wait another minute to finally fuck this broad right there in the alley outside the club.

The music vibrated the club's walls as it blared out into the crowd. Warrick would have normally been into the beat they were playing but tonight he had only one thing on his mind, and that was finding Trista. He couldn't stand the horrible feeling he was getting. He felt like she was in a bad situation and she was unable to get out of it. He wasn't sure why he felt that way since he knows Trista is no shrinking wall flower but she was really pounding back tequila and that made Warrick very worried about her state of mind. The more he worried the faster he pushed his way tot eh exit door.

"Hey, Buddy! Watch it!" a few guys told him as he forcefully made his way past them.

"Sorry, my bad, I just need to get around you to that door," he explained and continued to push his way through the crowd..

The guys nodded, "Yeah, it IS your bad," the drunken kid told him getting in his face.

Warrick was in no mood to start arguing with this drunk kid so he just shook his head and yelled, "LVPD," as he pointed to his emblem that was printed on his black, CSI T-shirt.

He was suddenly very glad he chose Nick's CSI shirt earlier and not some lame ass Dallas Cowboys or Mavericks shirts that he saw several of. This shirt happen to come in very handy tonight. It made his trek to that exit door easier, because otherwise there would have been a huge battle if those drunks thought they would keep him from his destination.

With the drunken losers out of the way, Warrick could now see that exit door clearly.

He was standing in front of it now.

His heart raced.

He watched his own hands as they wrapped around the cold metal bar and he pushed it hard swinging it open with force.

He gasped at the sight in front of him and he heard himself yell...

"Oh my God…TRISTA!"