Chapter 3

"Grissom?" Sara stood at the side of the bed, looking at him as he stared at her from the chair he had sunk into. "Grissom?"

"What did you say?"

"I said you didn't transfer your weak stomach genes into me or the baby," she chuckled then stopped when she saw he wasn't finding the situation the least bit funny.

"What did you say?" He repeated.

"I said. . .Grissom? Are you okay?"

"What "did" you say? Exactly—what are you trying to insinuate?"

"Insinuate? I'm not trying to insinuate anything," she said, not having a clue what was going on. "What's wrong, Grissom? You're scaring me."

"Then you're "not" trying to accuse me of getting you pregnant."

Sara straightened as she looked down at him. "Accuse you? Of course I'm accusing you. I mean. . .but, that's putting it rather harshly, don't you think? I mean, it isn't as if I called you up and said, hey guess what, ya knocked me up! "You're" the one who showed up on "my" doorstep saying you were ready to step up to the plate—at least step up a little closer to the plate—by being here."

"I'm not stepping anywhere!" He said as he got to his feet, nearly tripping as he subconsciously pushed the chair in front of him as a barrier between the two of them. "Are you crazy? Or just that desperate for someone to take over for this Jesse character?"

"What the hell are you talking about? You just spent half an hour telling me how you found out from the university that you got me pregnant and you planned to stay here at least until the baby's several months old!"

"I did nothing of the sort! Why in the hell would the university tell me I got you pregnant? How would they even "know" if I did any such thing? And—how in the hell could I have gotten you pregnant when I never had sex with you?" He took a step back, away from her, as if her condition were contagious.

"Never had sex. . .you don't remember the last night we went out and got more than a bit tipsy?" She eyed him closely. "I thought maybe something happened and it jarred your memory. I thought maybe after the drug wore off completely, you'd had some vague idea of what you had done."

"What I'd done! I didn't "do" anything!"

"Oh," she stared at him. "You did plenty, buddy. You were going at it like you were the frickin' Energizer bunny!"

"Are you insane! I never got near you! I left you at that bar."

"Really, genius?" She put her hands on her hips. "So tell me, Dr. Grissom, just what did you do "after" you left me in that bar?"

"I—I—took Shannon—um," he stalled as if he had to think to recall the girl's name. "Uh—Shannon—um. . ."

"Manstrum, Grissom! Shannon Manstrum!" Sara provided for him.

"Whatever! I took her back to my hotel and we. . .well, I don't know exactly what we did, but I know I had sex with her. Hell, I took her virginity. There was evidence all over my. . ." he slowed down as if embarrassed that he was admitting this. ". . .hotel suite."

"Right! If you did anything with Shannon Manstrum that night it was after "I" left your hotel—and believe me—you're probably at least six years too late if you think you got "her" virginity!"

"But she admitted to it!"

"You confronted her about it?" Sara asked, not only feeling embarrassed by the fact, but insulted.

"Yes! I had to apologize for. . .doing whatever I did. And she admitted it! She kept saying she didn't want anyone to find out—which I can't blame her. . . She kept saying she didn't want her father to find out what she had done because she'd be in such trouble. . ."

"She didn't want anyone to find out that she "drugged you!" Sara said with disbelieve at his gullibility. "Why do you think you can't remember doing anything? I don't know what the hell she slipped into your drink while we were in that bar, but you wouldn't stop! Not until you tried to pin me to your bed while telling me about your girlfriend back in Vegas! That more or less put a damper on the evening, I must say!"

"Girlfriend? I don't have a girlfriend in Vegas," he said stupidly.

"Terri Miller? Does that ring a bell? Or don't you remember "her," either?"

"Forget about Terri Miller! We've got more important things to discuss than Terri!"

"Alright! You took me out to the alley and started to do it on the trunk of the car. . ."

"That's a lie. I'd never have sex in public like that."

"It was dark. . .and believe me. . .you were more than willing. That was when Shannon and her two bimbo friends found us. If she was apologizing for doing something that night—then I'd say it's pretty clear that she's the one who drugged you."

"But. . .there was. . ." he looked up at Sara with confusion. ". . .blood on my sheets the next day. I thought I must have taken one of those girls home . . . a virgin . . ."

"Well, I can pretty well swear that I wasn't as well used as any of those girls. And if you're looking for apologies, then I'm sorry I bled on your sheets. But if you were observant, you probably would've found some on your hallway table "and" your kitchen table."

"I—did. Later, after I got home from school that day. I found it. I went through the place when I noticed it on the kitchen table. Then I found it on the hallway table." He looked at her as if realizing that if she knew where the traces of blood were, she must have been there. "But I don't remember."

"I know." She looked down at her hands in quiet frustration.

"But why didn't you tell me? You had every opportunity to tell me the next day when we went back to the bay. You said nothing."

"Because "you" said enough." She turned and started out of the bedroom. "Your pillow talk could use some fine tuning, Grissom. A girl doesn't like to be told about a man's gorgeous girlfriend while he's in the middle of a sex marathon with her."

"Sex marathon?" He followed her as she went back to the kitchen. "What the hell happened that night?"

"You want details?" She asked with embarrassment. "I'm not telling you!"

"Why not, if I did it?"

She turned and looked him in the eye as she tilted her head with vexation. "Because—you don't remember! Which means, as far as you're concerned—we never did anything! And that means you didn't "want" to do anything—and it was all a complete farce. So—we'll just forget any of this ever happened and we'll all go on and live happily ever after!"

"We "can't" pretend it never happened!" He said angrily.

"Why not!" She shouted back.

"Because you're pregnant!"

"Oh," she said quietly then looked at him again. "So? I was willing to raise it by myself before you showed up at my door. I'm pretty sure I'd be willing to do it again."

He grabbed hold of her upper arms and pulled her close. "Tell me you're not lying about all of this!"

Her anger was growing as she stared at him. "You tell me something, Grissom. Do you happen to have a fetish for white satin and lace panties?" She watched the confused look on his face, then the realization of what she was getting at. "Ah, you must've found them that day, because I couldn't find them when I was leaving so I went home commando. You seemed to have had a fondness for them that night. Do you still have them stashed away somewhere?"

"No!" He said as if the idea were absurd. "I threw them away. I thought they must've been Shannon's. I had no desire to keep a reminder of Shannon. . ."

"Manstrum! Shannon Manstrum! For God's sake—you thought you screwed her! I'd think you'd at least "try" to remember her damned name!"

"I tried to "forget" it." He looked back at her again. "And you're positive this child is mine—and not this "Jesse" guy's?"

"Of course I'm positive!"

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because Jesse is a figment of my imagination! Someone I wanted to use to . . . antagonize you. . .to make you think I wasn't sitting at home all alone, pining for you while puking my guts out carrying your kid!" She dropped her gaze to her hands again. "There hasn't been anyone else."

She looked back at him when she heard his deep intake of breath then he released her and ran his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. "Just tell me this. All the time I was so "eager" to interact with you. Did I force you to do anything you didn't want to?"

"Are you in the habit of forcing women to do things they don't want?" She asked with a raised brow.

"No! Absolutely not! But then I've never been drugged so badly that I practically attacked a woman in public then brought her home and performed sexual acrobatics on the kitchen table then continued through two more rooms."

"Well, that's good to know," she said, not wanting to answer him and let him know that while he wouldn't have normally shown any such interest in bedding her, she was more than willing to jump into the sack with him. "Grissom—if you didn't come back because you found out I was pregnant—why did you come back?"

"I—I was offered a position. I told you that."

"And you came to my apartment—why?"

"Because I wanted to see you. We were friends."

She nodded her head weakly. "We "were" friends. I get it. Look, I'm not feeling particularly well right now, and I think since you're already set up in the extra bedroom, you should stay tonight. We'll sleep on it and perhaps come up with something suitable tomorrow morning." She turned and started back toward her bedroom again, then stopped without looking at him. "And, Grissom. . .now that you know. . . you don't have to feel obligated to stay. I'll understand if you're not here when I wake up in the morning."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Grissom lay in Sara's extra bed staring at the ceiling. He had watched her leave the kitchen, looking defeated, yet carrying herself a little straighter as she held her hand on her abdomen with her pride shining through. He was half tempted to go to the extra room, get his bags and get the hell out of this place, but when she turned to enter her room, pausing to open the door, he got a full view of her protruding stomach and he became mesmerized. That was "his" child growing within her. A surge of male pride swept through him unlike anything he had ever felt before. "His" child. He didn't know what to do as he watched her disappear into behing her door, but leaving her alone right now was not an option. That was when he went back to the extra room and slowly undressed until he was in his boxers and tee-shirt.

What had he done? And would the drug have any effects on the baby? What should he do about the little bitch who actually slipped him the drug, if anything? It might just bring up a whole other load of problems. At this point it would be best if he moved on and worked with what was before him. He recalled how sad and upset Sara had appeared upon his arrival and the more they talked, the more content she appeared—until, he pulled the rug out from beneath her. Well, he thought as he ran his hand up over his eyes, not only was the rug pulled out from beneath me—the whole damned floor was! Jesus! He had so much to consider, so much to think about. He never contemplated having children. It was impossible to think such a thing.

He lay in bed, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the woman across the hall was very much bulging with his baby growing in her belly and suddenly the thought struck him in a way he never imagined. Underneath the shock was a sudden titillation. He had created a child. He had gone through with the mechanics of creating a baby—with Sara Sidle. Christ, she was only a kid! What had she said six months ago? She was two weeks away from turning twenty-six? And here he was at forty-one. What the hell had he done to her? She said he tried to do her on the trunk of the car—in an alley, for Christ's sake! The sudden image that flashed through his mind made a jolt run straight through to his backbone. Jeez, the thought of dropping his pants and spreading that goddess out on the cool metal of their car with the breeze blowing over them had his senses reeling. Then the image grew and became more explicit as he grasped onto her blouse and pulled it open so quickly that the buttons flew into the darkness. He recalled the white satin and lace panties he had recovered from his apartment the next day so he easily imagined a matching bra that covered her fleshy mounds that beckoned to him. He reached forward and grasped onto her breast as he spread her legs with his other hand and moved to stand between them. She was so beautiful as she looked up at him with her mouth slightly open, expressing the pleasure he was giving her as he moved his fingers up to dance over the satin covering her apex. He could feel her moist heat through the cloth already and he couldn't hold back any longer as he reached inside the leg opening and ran his finger through her folds, spreading the wetness he found there along her length, from one end of her to the other. His finger lightly touched every erotic nerve zone he could find beneath her panties and when he finally pressed his finger inside he listened to her growl of acceptance. This was when he would not have been able to wait any longer and pulled his hand away to grasp onto and guide himself to her hot center. He would fill her, slowly, allowing her to hug him tightly as he slid his length inside. And still, she would continue to watch him through those amazing eyes, and her mouth, God, her mouth! He'd hold onto her hips as he would start stroking into her and he'd watch her mouth as she'd slide her tongue over her lips and then over that gorgeous gap between her teeth. Oh, man! Did he have the opportunity to find out what it felt like to have that spectacular gap scrape along his erection? Did he have his dream come true, only to be so damned drugged that he couldn't even remember it? Or even more, did he have the privilege of spreading her open and tasting her nectar? He had always imagined what it would be like to pleasure her in this way. Had he done so? He closed his eyes as he imagined what it would have been like to settle between her sensational legs and spread her open for his investigation; her taste, her scent, her texture, and her reactions. Jeez! But if he had her in front of him right now, he wouldn't be able to stop himself and he'd be getting his fill of her essence as his tongue would pleasure them both.

"Grissom?" Sara's voice broke through his imagination and he yanked the comforter over himself to hide the impressive erection he was sporting.

"Yes, Sara?" He nearly croaked.

"I—I wanted to talk to you for a minute. Could I come in?"

"Uh—yeah." He looked around for anything else he could use to cover himself but stopped when he heard the jiggle of the knob.

"Dr. Grissom—the door's locked. I can't come in. I mean, if you'd rather I don't—that's fine. I'll—um—just wait until morning to talk to you."

"Damn!" he said to himself as he jumped out of bed and wrapped the comforter around his waist. "No, wait. I'll be right there."

He made his way to the door and pulled it open to find her standing there with her curls flowing down onto her shoulders with a white nightshirt that was opened at the throat and only buttoned to the level of her breasts, which gave him an excellent view of the mounds of perfection from above. He looked at the long legs and bare feet that came from beneath the white cotton shirt that covered her in the front to almost her knees but to her sides, revealed what was quickly becoming his weakness—white satin and lace panties. He rolled his eyes in complete frustration as he took a step back and opened the door farther for her entrance.

She slowly walked inside, evidently seeing his uneasiness as she eyed him with curiosity. "I—um—I just wanted to apologize. This is coming as a complete shock to you and I'm not helping matters by being so defensive. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" He moved to sit on the end of the bed. "You didn't get "yourself" pregnant. And I know you, Sara—even if it was only for a few days before I left—I know you aren't deceitful or manipulative. You have nothing to be sorry about."

"Oh, really?" She gave him a tiny smile of doubt as she moved to sit on the chair and placed her hand on her belly. "So you don't think keeping junior, here, a secret for the past six months, is kinda deceitful?"

His eyes went to the area her hand was lying and what normally should have been decreasing the size of his erection, was having the opposite effect on him. Pregnant women had never been a target of his affections—ever, simply because the thought never occurred to him. Not to say he had never been approached. He recalled a friend from Vegas whose wife was pregnant and cornered him during a Christmas party. He found the idea rather repulsive at the time, but it wasn't so much the fact that she was pregnant, as it was the fact that she was pregnant with someone else's child. The more he looked at the rounded area beneath Sara's hand, the more he pressed down on the comforter that was still around his waist.

"You felt you had no choice," he told her as his eyes remained on her stomach then moved on to her legs that were slightly spread beneath the round abdomen, legs that he swore went on forever. Did he have them around his waist, he wondered as he watched them. Did he have them over his shoulders. Or was he looking at this all wrong and he had approached her from the back. Oh, he could well imagine her standing naked in front of him and approaching her from the rear as his hands roamed over the front of her.

"Grissom?" Sara asked, evidently for the second time, snapping his attention up to her face.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"I said, I don't want to be an interruption to your life. That's why I didn't tell you. You're relationship with Terri is very important and, well, if you'd prefer her not to know about it, I can understand."

"Terri?" He asked as he looked at her face. His eyes moved over her perfect nose, and her lips that begged to be kissed. Those lips, he thought as he licked his own. Where had they been? What had they touched on him? Did they stop at his mouth? Or did she like to roam during her lovemaking? Had she kissed his neck? His shoulders? His chest or stomach? Were her lips near his thighs, his abdomen? Dear God! His breathing was increasing as she smiled again at him, exposing that precious gap. Was he the recipient of what he could only imagine as being perfect oral sex?

"Your girlfriend."

"My what?" How easy would it be to simply take her hand and pull her over onto the bed with him? Would she let him open those buttons to reveal the skin and satin and lace that was beneath? Would she let him touch the mound that announced to the world that there was going to be a new Grissom? Would she let him taste the splendor she had hidden there?

"Dr. Miller," she said as she slowly got to her feet and approached him. "Grissom."

"Oh." He looked up at her as she stood before him. He hadn't planned on this when he knocked on her door tonight. He was convinced he wanted to be a friend to her—but the evidence has proven to him that it was way beyond that. "Dr. Miller and I have only gone out several times—but she would never have allowed our "relationship" to escalate to something of this level."

"Of course not," Sara said stiffly. "Dr. Miller wouldn't stoop so low as to get pregnant, would she? She's much too classy to do such a primitive thing as to accidentally get pregnant. Well, Dr. Grissom, I'm sorry to have taken up more of your time tonight. I just wanted to. . ."

Grissom stood up and faced her. He had no idea what the hell she was talking about. "What "did" you want to do "Miss" Sidle? I'm not understanding your reasons for coming in here tonight. You say you're sorry for being defensive, you offer to hide your pregnancy, or I should rephrase that as "my contribution" to your pregnancy from a woman I've never even been intimate with, and then you immediately become defensive again."

"You haven't?" She asked as she looked up at him with renewed interest.

"I haven't—what?" He asked in exasperation.

"Been intimate with her."

He looked confused as to her interest. "No."

"Oh," she said simply. "Well, okay then."

"Where are you going?" He asked as she opened the door and exited the room.

"To bed. I'm exhausted and I'm sure you must be too. Goodnight, Grissom."

He watched her cross the hall then close the door behind her. He pushed his door closed with a little more force than was necessary then removed the comforter and looked down at the tent in his pants. Oh yeah, he felt exhausted alright—so exhausted that he wanted nothing more than to cross that hall and climb on top of her and show her how much energy he still had.