A/N: Enjoy!
An Unusual Sequence of Events
Chapter 7
An Interlude: a short period of time between longer periods
Dr. Clifford Garrett was so surprised, so deliriously happy when Gil Grissom agreed to join his research project that he immediately suggested a trip into Red Rockscanyon. "We'll go in the four-wheel drive," he suggested, adding details of where to meet him. "We've had to take double precautions after announcing the dinosaur tracks—every fossil hunter in the southwest wants to find the place!"
Overhead the sky was blazing orange, the sun had past noon-time high several hours before, as Grissom parked beside a truck and trailer. Cliff Garrett was carefully backing a four-wheel drive all-terrain vehicle off the trailer—not a small one, but one with four seats and a metal top and a large cooler strapped on the back. They piled into it and headed west on a trail that was visible only to those who knew it was there.
The two men talked; Sara sat back and enjoyed the ride. The stark red, orange, and grey of the rock caused a striking contrast as limestone formations towered over their heads. She knew where they were going, following one of the established trails into a box canyon, but a right turn into another series of canyons would get them to an area out of the usual hiking territory. Somewhere in the higher canyons and hidden shadows a natural spring formed a pool of water where Dr. Garrett's research was on-going—studying the life-cycle of little dragon flies inhabiting the area.
There were a few day hikers who waved as they passed, but they were soon in an area where road runners, lizards, birds and a lone rabbit were the only curious eyes on their method of travel. Sara caught snippets of conversation between the two men in the front seat. Cliff Garrett had a sense of humor and was quietly telling Grissom a story of a young male assistant who had gotten his penis stuck in a water bottle while urinating in it.
"I tried not to laugh, but finally told the boy to sit on a rock and picture Mother Teresa in his mind! So it's not always just watching and recording," he chuckled as he glanced back at Sara, knowing she had heard the story. "Every thing that goes in, we insist it comes out but he took that a bit too literally."
For a mile, they lapsed into silence as they skirted an area that had been ravaged by a wild-fire, and then rounded a large rock where the dead burned out trees opened to a meadow of grass and late blooming wild-flowers. Nothing was dead for long in nature, Sara thought. They arrived in the canyon and instantly noticed the smell of water; Dr. Garrett pointed northward saying that's where the dinosaur footprints had been found, expressing hope that no one would disturb his hidden research station.
There was a little make-shift camp set against an outcrop of rocks, a tarp made a sloping roof for a folding table, three battered camp chairs, a large metal box that held some of the supplies and equipment. About forty feet away and twenty feet over their heads, a sparkling little stream of water streaked the limestone before it fell into a small pond. While the men talked, Sara walked around it, amazed at the presence of so much wildlife—fluttering wings of dragon flies and the soft chirps made by tiny frogs—none seemed perturbed by her presence. An abundance of plants grew around the edge of the water—grasses, flowers, several small trees—providing a home for even more wildlife, butterflies, bees, birds, even a small turtle shared the space.
They remained in the canyon for several hours; the men talked while Sara meandered around the area hiding a restlessness of her own. Hormones, she thought, worked in weird ways and the ones she was taking hyped her emotions as well as her senses. Her skin prickled; she flushed easily, and her thoughts drifted frequently to one thing—not what was happening in this remote canyon.
Walking around the area, Sara found evidence of dozens of larger animals who came for water and she spotted several nests of the cactus wren. She was watching a towhee, easily identified by its red sides and black and white underbelly, when Grissom and Dr. Garrett called to her.
Fading sunlight made a dancing display of changing colors as they weaved back onto the dusty trail. Dr. Garrett pointed out tiny orange reflectors set along the path.
"In case you stay out here too long," he said. "Don't want anyone wandering around out here in the middle of the night." He gave a now familiar laugh. "One day I had to walk out because I ran out of gas—that happens once and you remember to check the gas gauge!"
Back at home, Sara could not wait to peel off her clothes; sweaty, dusty and buzzing with hormones, she examined her face in the mirror before stepping into the shower. She did not look forty, she thought, and wondered if anyone ever thought they looked their age. She pulled her hair back and watched it curl around her fingers. If she used a brush and blow-dried her hair, it was straighter now; the curls of her youth had relaxed, not quite so wiry and energetic.
Her hand brushed dust from her cheek and her eyes went to the photographs she had put on the bathroom wall. She smiled. These were her private ones, of Grissom in funny or provocative poses, several of the two of them in varying stages of dress that no visitor would see. Not nude photographs, just moments of having fun with each other. She stepped into the shower which is where Grissom found her a few minutes later.
"Dinner," he announced, "I'll fix grilled cheese if you'll do salads."
She opened the shower, laughing as she grabbed his arm. "Get in here, Gilbert. I need you now—now," she laughed, "and all you wanted to do was stay out in that damn desert!"
Immediately, his face brightened; he laughed, lighthearted, joyous. "This is not one of the usual side effects, you know." He was pulling his shirt over his head and toeing his feet out of his shoes without further coaxing.
Within minutes, their bodies slippery with soap, desire reached a fevered pitch as Sara's hands gently, yet firmly wrapped around his body, his lips fixed against hers as he lifted her up, centered her across his hips, and then lowered her slowly onto his very rigid erection, using the tiled wall as a brace.
Sara's breath caught against the closeness of their bodies. Her private desire—now shared with her husband—became perfect pleasure. Her eyes, her mind, her soul became possessed by the beautiful, flawless body holding her tightly; his muscles seemed a strong liquid beneath his smooth skin. The bud of her clitoris felt huge, swollen, throbbing against the softness of thick curls. When he was snugly inside her, her body quivered, tensed, and very quickly came the soft powerful explosion of her orgasm. She lost contact with the world for a moment in its sweet rush. When she felt him come, the walls of her vagina squeezed, wave after wave of contractions pulled at him as if to suck every drop of semen from him.
When it was over, they were both a little amazed and stood together, Sara's hands still on Grissom's butt, one leg still wrapped around his thighs.
Grissom recovered first, saying, "That was a surprise." He laughed in a warm, comforting way but did not let her go.
Sara moved her hand to his neck, managed to keep her balance on one foot, and pulled him into a deep kiss. When she finally spoke, it was a giggle, followed by a whisper in his ear, "It was those frogs—all of them copulating around that pond!"
She did eat a grilled cheese sandwich, in bed, brought to her on a tray by her husband. Flushed, smiling, relaxed, stretching after she ate, and if she had given him any passionate signal, he would have been ready again. But she yawned, barely able to keep her eyes open. He kissed her, gently, feeling the softness of her lips pressed against his. As he lifted the tray from the bed, she curled underneath covers and smiled. Before he was out of the room, he knew she was asleep.
After taking Hank for a short walk, he returned to the bedroom and found her in the same position—a smile played along her mouth as she slept. Watching Sara, peaceful, restful, soundly sleeping, he realized a change had happened to both of them. They had a good life, of simple things, of a loving camaraderie that many couples never achieved. Cliff Garrett had commented on it today out in the canyon. He crawled into bed and drifted to sleep, feeling Sara's heart next to his.
Their days and nights were easy, passed in a comfortable tedium of every day activities. Grissom worked on his book; the final copy had gone to a small publisher and an agent had grand ideas for shopping the specialized book at conferences if Grissom was willing to be a speaker. For many months they had found so little time for normal life that the days were never long enough, the nights were too short. Their daily routine was disrupted only when Sara did all the necessary tasks listed by her physician—she carefully charted her temperature, she checked for mucus changes, and the obligatory sex was never a problem. All she had to do was glance at her husband and a rush of heat shot straight from her brain to her clitoris; or maybe it started between her legs and rushed to her brain. She did not care; she just knew her sex drive had never been like this—all she thought about was getting laid and Grissom was delighted.
Before Sara returned to work, unexpectedly, Catherine called. "I'm in town, Sara! Let's get together—I've so much to tell you!"
Sara made plans for dinner and called Nick, Greg, and Brass, all promising to show up at the appointed time.
"Bring only yourself," Sara insisted when Nick asked what he should bring.
She and Grissom set up a temporary dining table—a solution they had worked out several years before. Sliding their two small round tables together, they placed a large oval wooden board over the two tables which provided enough seating for everyone at one table.
And, as they had done on many occasions for these friends, they shopped and cooked. As they filled a grocery cart, Sara was edgy. She knew the ovulation drug was doing what it was supposed to do—she was warm all over and, surprising her, Grissom, and her physician because it was not a common side effect, her sex drive surged for five days after she completed her meds and took several more days to diminish. Watching Grissom bend over to get a box of pasta made her want to jump him from behind—right in the grocery store aisle. She breathed, slowly, in and out, and looked up at the ceiling, a now familiar flush of warmth spreading over her body.
"Hey!" Grissom called to her as he threw pasta and rice in the cart, "Are you daydreaming?"
"No, I'm trying to cool off."
"Oh," he said. He knew she had flushes that could be uncomfortable. "I'll get you a bottle of water."
She caught up with him. "Unless I jam it down my pants, it won't cool me off," she whispered. "I'm going to have to take a month off if next month is this bad!" She waved her hand as a fan.
Laughing, Grissom placed an arm around her, hugging her close. "You are pregnant—I know you are! You've never been like this—never! And it's not because you're horny all the time—that's nice, but there're other things going on."
She reached for a melon, giving him a quizzical glance. "What does that mean? I think it's having you around all the time!" She giggled. "Just can't keep my hands off that cute butt!"
He dodged her playful hand, looking around at other shoppers who were oblivious of their teasing. He picked up a mango, saying "You're like this mango." He leaned to her ear and whispered, "Ripe, just the right amount of softness. Sometimes you are a little tangy, other times you are more of an orange, pineapple, peach blend. Always pleasing, succulent, but lately—last few days, you are more grape-peach with a little apple flavor." He smirked a grin. "And in Eastern culture mangos are considered to be highly heating foods," he was chuckling out loud. "And you're hot!"
Sara reached for a large mango. "Well, tonight, Gilbert, you are eating mangos at the table with company—keep that description of me in mind while you're eating."
Picking up two more mangos, he performed a quick juggle with the two, a wide grin across his face. "We're having a baby, Sara! I know it!"
Later, Sara opened the door to welcome Catherine, the last of their visitors to arrive for dinner. The men knew they might be called for an early start of their shift, so they had arrived early and were already eating crudités and chips with an assortment of dips and drinking favorite beers, making enough noise for a gathering twice their number.
As Sara opened the door, she thought Catherine might have changed yet she was just as remembered, laughing, brightly dressed in unstated elegance, her hair falling in a mass of red-gold around her face only to be quickly tossed back as she entered the house. Her voice bubbled as she entered, "Sara! You got everyone to come!" And then Catherine was the center of attention as the four men turned toward her.
Sara played hostess to their guests; everyone had a drink, everyone was eating, and everyone was talking as four or five conversations bounced between the long-time friends. Chairs shifted, elbows moved, and conversation changed to food as Sara placed bowls and platters on the table. Years ago, their friends learned what to expect when Sara prepared food and today was no exception. No meats were on the table but bright red, orange, and green melon slices, fresh tomatoes seasoned with basil and blended oils, feta cheese and green grapes, pasta tossed with sesame oil, peanut butter and ginger, thinly shredded Savoy cabbage and red onions, seasoned rice mixed with black beans and ginger meant hamburgers and steaks were not missed. Several sauces, dips, and spreads were added to the table along with an assortment of breads. No one would leave the table wanting more to eat and for several minutes, their talk subsided as food was passed and tasted.
At some point in the meal, all the men were talking, Sara had gotten up again for something, and Catherine was sitting quietly for a moment. She watched Sara, who had returned to the table with wine and for a fleeting moment, Grissom glanced up with a murmured "thanks" on his lips. Catherine saw him in profile; Sara's face was tilted downward. In seconds, the air rushed out of her lungs as she recognized the look—quickly, her eyes moved to the others. No one else noticed; men would not notice. With unexpected clarity, Catherine knew Sara was pregnant—radiating an assured, unconscious sexuality that was almost indecent—or she wanted to be and would be soon if the man gazing up at her used his keen technical brain to kick his masculinity into high gear.
And Sara had water in her wine glass.
Catherine laughed out loud causing everyone to look in her direction. Things had changed in the Grissom household; this bloom was new, and she realized Grissom was part of this. During dinner, while he was talking to everyone else, his eyes searched for Sara all the time, weren't content unless they rested on Sara.
Quickly, Catherine recovered from her thoughts, asking, "How long will you be home, Gil?"
He laughed. "A long time. I've signed on with Dr. Garrett at the university. He has so much going on right now and he's happy to have help."
"You're not traveling?"
"Not now," he said. "I'm happy to be here." His arm circled Sara's waist—protective, possessive, Catherine thought. "And I think my wife is too."
Sara's fingers threaded into Grissom's hair, more white than Catherine remembered; just as quickly as everyone had looked in her direction, conversation picked up and continued. A few minutes later, Sara said:
"Dessert, everyone? Gil wanted mangos, so we have pound cake, mangos and whipped cream. Delicious mangos too—sort of a peachy-apple flavor!"
As Sara brought the dessert to the table, Catherine saw the quick glances between Grissom and Sara. Even as they ate, secret signals passed between the couple. Catherine could not stop the smile from forming on her face. More white hair on his head now than a decade ago, but obviously a passionate fire was burning. Catherine left with the others, promising to call before she left town. She knew what would happen as soon as the door was safely closed—and it wasn't cleaning the kitchen. She laughed all the way back to her house.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading-and special thanks to those who review! Life interfers for a week or so, next chapter a bit delayed.