Like a Virgin

Like a Virgin (part 1 of 2)

By: Saskia Mitchell

Rating: PG-13, por lingua. The next chapter is going to be a big fat "R" for...hmmm...smut, maybe?

Disclaimer: The characters don’t belong to me, but to the v. creative people over at CBS, Alliance Atlantis, Anthony Zuiker and of course, the actors who breathe life into the words on a page. I profit in no way from this story. I did get crazy with the backstory, though, please forgive me. In fact, make that *very* crazy, all is explained below. So don’t flame me and tell me I’m out of my mind. I don’t suffer from the insanity; I enjoy every moment of it… Oh, yeah, and Nick POV.

Dedications: I usually don’t do dedications, but this is special. So, I have one that goes out to my P-town homie Bri and one for my lovely Lady M, who knows who she is.






Today is the day that I realized that I love Sara Sidle. I feel like the moment will be indelibly imprinted on my mind forever. Cagney's Sub Shop, 4th St., two bites into my turkey on French bread, and I think I love her. Two tables from the back, where the light is dim and the air is warm and I know I love her. The hustle and bustle of the restaurant around us, making speech nearly impossible and I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone.

Perhaps it's her downcast eyes, the delicate blush across her cheek and the dark halo of mahogany hair framing her face, making her look ten years younger. Or it could be her beautiful mind, second only to Grissom's, and her sharp wit, frequently missed by others, considering her usual deadpan delivery. Maybe it's just the last seven words to come tumbling out of her mouth.

"I want you to sleep with me."

I choked on said sandwich, gulping down a large amount of Coke, washing it down before speaking. She was blushing harder, still avoiding my eyes.

"I'm sorry?"

"I, uh, I...Forget it," Sara finally said, shaking her lovely head. "Just forget I ever said anything. I really should go," she started to gather up her coat and hat, but I stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

"Don't leave," the dark promise in my eyes was enough to make her take pause, and sit down again, stiffly, facing not me, but the chair next to her, waiting for any revelation I might give to relieve her own embarrassment. "Let's just talk about this for just a minute."

"It was a yes or no question, Nick. No discussion required," she shot back, glaring.

"Sara, you just blindsided me with a secret and a proposition in the span of about a minute and a half," I argued, consulting my watch. "Without giving the topic considerable discussion, I don't know that I could even answer the question."

"Then don't," she rose again, gathered her things, and slipped through the sub shop, ignoring my protests.

The waitress hurried over, upset already by the fact that a customer had stormed out, and I took advantage of her conciliatory manner by asking that she bag up my sandwich for later, and Sara's as well. She did, and brought it back to the table within just a minute. I tipped her well and then escaped the restaurant also, entering the cold street and seeing no signs of Sara. We had thirty minutes left until lunch was over, but I thought it unlikely that Sara would hail a cab to get back to the lab. Her apartment was just around the block, so I fired up the Tahoe and drove around until I saw the light come on in the window.

I wondered if I should engage at this point. Sara was obviously frightened, worried, and apprehensive, all natural reactions, considering the proposal she had just made, and my less-than-thrilled reaction to it.

I couldn’t help but replay the rest of the day in my mind in slow motion, analyzing everything that had been said and done:



"Hey," Sara stood in the door of the lab, looking oh-so-sexy in a lavender long-sleeved shirt and her snug blue jeans. Her lab coat was curled around her body, and her hair was in a high, girlish ponytail. She was wearing makeup, which I immediately thought was strange. Her hip rested against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her pert little breasts. My mind wandered to dangerous places for a few seconds until she got my attention with another, now amused, "hey."

"Sorry," I shook my head for effect, clearing the cobwebs. "Just thinking about...the case."

Sara smirked, she wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t question me further. In fact, she looked quite flustered herself. I found it odd, wanting to know what could embarrass the mostly-unflappable Sara Sidle. "Hey...do you have plans for lunch?"

"I do now," I grinned, looking up from my microscope.

"You do?"

"I have plans with you."

She smiled back, relieved, and she bit her lip before turning around in the threshold of the door to go wander off, mostly likely to find Grissom or Warrick or Greg. I smiled again, and went back to my mold samples.





The day only got stranger when Sara and I met in the locker room for lunch. She allowed me to escort her out to the truck, my hand easily falling to the small of her back—and old chivalrous habit—usually Sara gave me hell about it, but tonight it almost seemed as if she was...enjoying it, somehow. She waited for me to open her car door, which I did while raising an eyebrow, bemused. She didn’t comment on it, just gave a little smile and buckled herself into the truck as I walked around to my side to get in. Sara always insisted on driving, and I wondered what exactly, I was being set up for.

On the way to the sandwich shop, Sara was unusually quiet. Ordinarily she chattered on like an excited monkey when we were together, always eager to tell me about her cases, her findings, her theories. It hadn’t always been that way, and I loved every minute of our conversations now, intrigued by the sound of her voice, the complexity of her sharp mind and even sharper tongue.

Tonight, she just sat nervously with her hands in her lap and fiddled with the strap of her big red bag. Sara didn’t usually carry a purse, but the bag was a pleasant reminder that even Sara could be feminine. I parallel parked out on the street in front of the deli, and Sara didn’t wait for me to come around to the door. She jumped out and stood on the sidewalk, waiting for me to lock the car and join her.

We went inside and waited almost twenty minutes to get to the front counter and order our sandwiches. Finding a table, we barely had our coats and hats off by the time the waitress brought over our drinks. Our sandwiches came a minute later, and Sara just looked at it with mild disinterest as she rocked back and forth in her chair. She had something on her mind, but I was going to wait for her to bring it up.

I bit into my sandwich, and wiped a stray glob of mayonnaise off my lip, then finished the job with one of the paper napkins with "Cagney’s!" on it in brigink ink letters.

"Nick?"

"Hmmm?" I murmured, distracted.

"Nick, what do you think of me?"

I stopped chewing, staring up at her, cocking my head slightly.

"Uh, well, I mean...like what?"

"Like, what do you think about when you think about me?"

"I think...I think about...why? What’s this about? Has Grissom said something?"

"Just...just tell me," Sara pleaded, and I felt myself bending to her request.

"Well, Sara. I think about...how you’re my favorite partner. I think...about how well we work together, and how incredibly smart you are...but you know all of this," I reminded her, amused, taking another bite.

"So...just work?"

"Huh?"

Sara cleared her throat. "So, when you think about me, you just think about work?"

Surprised, I put down my sandwich, finished chewing and squinted at her just momentarily. "Well, we’re friends too. I guess I think about how fun you are, and how much fun we have together. We like all the same movies, and we both love classic rock and drinking beer. What else should I be thinking?"

"Nothing." Sara tried an experimental bite of her veggie sandwich and chewed slowly. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. "Do you ever think about me as more than a friend?"

Shocked now, I tried to mitigate the damage by slowly finishing my bite and taking a sip of soda. "Sara, what’s this about? Why won’t you tell me?"

"It’s...embarrassing," Sara ducked her head, hiding her blush, pushing her sandwich wrapper around on the table.

"Do you trust me?" I asked bluntly.

"Professionally? Implicitly. Given the subject matter? I’m a little nervous."

"How bad could it be?"

Sara shot me a glare.

I continued, "Sara, you have to believe I would never hurt you," I reached out a tentative hand to push an errant lock of hair behind her ear. Surprised, she looked up. She bit her lip apprehensively.

"I do."

"Good. Then just tell me," I murmured, brushing a thumb across her cheek before retracting my hand back to my side of the table.

She blushed furiously. "I’m...what I’m trying to say is...I’m...I’ve never...I’m a virgin!" she finally blurted.

I sat back in my seat, stunned. A second too late, I realized my jaw had hit the floor. Then I proceeded to insert my foot. "You’re kidding."
stu stunned silence, followed by Sara’s icy reply. "Does it look like I’m kidding?"

I swallowed hard, finding words impossible to get out. "No." Sara couldn’t meet my eyes, so finally I found the voice to say, "I thought you were a member of the Mile High Club."

I didn’t think it was possible, but Sara’s face actually became pinker.

"I may have reached orgasm in that lavatory, it doesn’t mean it was intercourse," she replied, her voice hushed and shamed.

"So you’ve had some experience, then?" I clarified.

"A little," Sara hedged. "I’ve just never really found anyone that I wanted...to uh, be with. I mean, for a while, I thought Grissom...but I just can’t wait any longer. I mean, really, enough is enough. What I’m trying to say is, I’m ready."

I nodded, thoughtfully, but secretly I was wondering why on Earth Sara would come to me to confess such a thing. "Okay," I said slowly.

"I want it to be you," Sara said baldly, bravely, without pretense.

I was pretty sure in that moment that my heart had stopped.

"I want you to sleep with me."

And that’s when I went into my verbal slapstick that frightened Sara enough to take off, race home, and then call in sick for the rest of the night.





Trying to make it through the remainder of the shift was an exercise in utter mind-numbing patience. All I could think about was getting off, going over to Sara’s and giving her what for. As much as I wanted to scold her, the other part of me wanted to undress her, kiss her, and then fuck her silly.

Sara Sidle was an enigma...a cold and calculated interrogator, an empathetic pillar of support to victims, a warm-hearted friend, and such a kind heart, so strong and unbreakable. Deep down, she was shy. She could fake it with the best of them, fool most with her braggadocio and her flippant mask, but she hadn’t once fooled me. She was a shy, withdrawn girl who associated only with those who were as quick as she was, which meant she didn’t have many friends. Honestly, I thought she could loosen up, but at the same time, I felt privileged to be one of the few who were her true friends.

It was almost impossible to concentrate once I began thinking of her nude body, imagining what it would be like to arouse and seduce her. She of course, would be lean and supple and limber; her long legs wrapping around my hips had long been a fantasy I couldn’t shake. She wanted me. She wanted me to be her first. It was obvious she was desperate, but why now? She’d waited so long, waited for someone special, even...why me?

I thought about the anxious quality of her voice in the deli. "I want it to be you." Now if I could just figure out why, I’d be in business. Her hasty exit told me it wouldn’t be easy for her to forget my rejection. I wondered if she would ever speak to me again, period. I was almost angry with her for so recklessly disregarding the boundaries of our friendship by suggesting this. Then I would just swing back to the overwhelming ego-boost and then spiral into oblivion.

Part of me said that if she were so hard up that she would come to me to make such an intense offer, she wouldn’t take "no" for an answer. I knew if she were that eager for the experience, if it wasn’t me, it would be someone else. Maybe someone that didn’t care about her even a fraction of the way I did. She would go to someone like Hank or some random pick-up in a bar. She would choose someone anonymous, and always remember her first time as a one-night stand.

I couldn’t let her do it, but the other part of me was telling me to sit down and think about this. Sara was a grown woman; she could do whatever she wanted. She’d waited this long, and there was obviously a reason she wanted to rid herself of the burden now. I couldn’t deny I wanted her, or loved her even. Sara was never the girl I’d wanted in college, or even after. I liked the blondes: the Brittanys, and the Tiffanys and the Ambers. I liked girls who liked my pretty face and my dick and my status as a fraternity brother. I swung through sorority girls the way most guys changed pants.

Sara was too intelligent, too serious, too involved in the work. I never considered her as date material. Until I became too serious, too involved in the work. Then one day she was just there, bending over to look in the break room fridge, those same snug jeans hugging the curves of her bottom, and I realized I had the biggest hard-on I’d ever had. She stood up, her lush lips curled around a straw that she had stuck through the top of a soda can.

She’d cocked her head when she saw me staring "What?"

I didn’t answer her, not with the truth, anyway, but I didn’t get out of that chair until welllll after she’d left the room.

Now I couldn’t stop thinking about that moment, when I’d first recognized how sexy she was and how very much I wanted her body. Knowing no one else had ever touched or been with her only increased my desire. She was mine for the plucking...I groaned inwardly at the pun.

My heart’s struggle only worsened when I realized I would have to smooth things over the very next time I saw her. I could do one of several things, the most obvious being to completely ignore the huge elephant in the room, and just go on about things the way they’d ever been. The second would be to apologize, and hope wildly that she accepted my apology, knowing what a careless thing she’d done. Yeah, right. The only other option was to not apologize, and just ignore her completely. I would never do that, and I knew it, so that left me with an apology or a bypass of the issue in its entirety. I sighed deeply, never liking the choices I gave myself.





The next time I saw Sara was at the start of the next shift, she was in the break room with Warrick and Catherine, displaying photos from a scene that she had already discussed with me the day before. I entered, going straight to the coffeepot, carefully avoiding her eye. I wasn’t sure what I would find there: fear, anger, and blatant hatred were the top three choices, however.

Warrick and Catherine were studying the photos, and not paying a bit of attention to me as I slid up behind Sara, grazed a hand across her back and very carefully leaned in to whisper into her ear, "yes." I still don’t know why I did it.

A look of startled surprise met my gaze as she turned to stare at me in abashed wonder.

Warrick asked her a question, but Sara unintentionally ignored him. He asked again, and I elbowed her and answered the query for her. She sat down in the chair across from them and I slid into the seat next to her as she explained her hypothesis and her reasoning in relation to the case. I was amazed that she was able to keep such a cool head. A blush still painted her cheeks, but she was doing a marvelous job of concentrating. All I could think about was how adorable she looked; getting more excited as she pointed out this or that in the photographs. Shew I w I was staring at her, and she gently reached under the table to pinch my thigh, and shake her head to discourage me, not meeting my eyes.

I barely made it through the rest of the meeting. Grissom wandered in and gave us our assignments, pairing himself with Catherine, giving Sara a solo robbery and letting Warrick and I team together for a homicide. We all went our separate ways, but not before I yanked Sara into the locker room to talk.

"This is a conditional yes, Sara. I want to talk about this before we jump right in," I warned.

She screwed up her face, "Conditional on what we talk about or just that we talk?"

"Just that we talk," I grinned at her slyly.

She stared at me for a long minute, scrutinizing my countenance.

"Why?" She asked after this deliberation.

"Because I want to. Because I want you," I leaned closer to her, trapping her between my body and the bay of lockers.

"Whoa, tiger," Sara slipped underneath my arm and sidled over a few feet.

"C’mon Sara...you put it out there," I reminded her.

"I know. I know I did," she sighed, heavily. Her hands fidgeted nervously at the hem of her sweater. "I just...I don’t guess I expected you to accept."

"Well, now that I have, let’s do this," I murmured, stepping closer, my voice more husky than I’d intended.

"Here?" Sara squeaked, mortified.

I chuckled. "How about Friday night, at my house?"

She licked her lips nervously. "Are you sure?"

"Shouldn’t I be asking you that?"

She laughed mirthlessly. "Right."

I took a step back. "We certainly don’t have to. I thought it was what you wanted."

She immediately turned a fierce shade of red. She wasn’t about to back down. "It was. It is. Let’s do this. Friday night. I’ll be over at eight." She was breathing a little more heavily after that, I noticed, and she looked uncertain. I cocked an eyebrow at her. She compelled herself to say, "Should we get together to talk first? I mean, I wouldn’t want to kill...the mood, or anything."

"That sounds fine. How about lunch?"

"Let’s uh, not go back to the deli...I don’t want everyone in Vegas to know about my sex life," she scowled.

"We can go parking over Blindman’s Cove?" I suggested, and Sara nodded.

She leaned forward, as if she wanted to kiss me, but thought better of it a moment later, and landed a peck on my cheek before making a hurried exit from the locker room.





"Hey, man," Warrick clamped his hand around mine in one of those stupid complicated handshakes. "I just bought Madden 2004 for my PS2. You want to come over, play a few rounds? I’ll let you be the Cowboys," he rolled his eyes.

Sara was turned away from us, seated facing the other row of lockers, and I saw her immediately stiffen at Warrick’s invitation.

"Can’t, bro. I’ve got some business to take care of," I buttoned up my shirt, but didn’t bother to tuck it into my pants.

"That’s cool, maybe tomorrow," Warrick packed up his work clothes into his duffel and put a warm hand on Sara’s shoulder before kissing the top of her head and leaving. She shot him a friendly smile as he left, and then turned back to her bag as the door to the locker room swung shut.

I crept up behind her and leaned down to gently whisper in her ear..."you ready?"

"I’m ‘business’, huh?"

"No, no, you’re not business," my voice was sensuous, seductive. "But if I’d told him I had some sexy fun to take care of, you would have killed me."

Sara ducked her head and finished packing before clearing her throat and standing up. I followed her out to the parking lot, where we chose her truck, and this time, she elected to drive. I played navigator, as the route was fairly tricky, and the area pretty dark and secluded.

"So..." Sara said as soon as the truck was parked, and the engine had been killed.

"So," I grinned. On the radio, Sara had the station turned to the White Stripes, and I wondered if it was the CD player or the radio.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Sara asked, clearing her throat, embarrassed.

I sighed deeply, hoping that the situation didn’t have to be this awkward.

"Okay...first of all, why? Why have you waited so long?"

"Uh, geez. Well, at first I just didn’t give a flying flip off a rolling doughnut about boys. I went off to school and spent so much time studying and hanging out with friends that I really didn’t have time to date."

"What about after college?"

"I went back to California," she took a deep breath. "And I met Grissom. We, uh...I thought for a long time that it would be him. I just loved to work, never really found time to date there, either. Then I came to Vegas."

"What about Hank?"

"H-Hank?" Sara sputtered. "You honestly think I would sleep with a guy named Hank?"

"He seemed good enough at one time," I argued.

"Hank? No...I went to movies with Hank. I went to the diner with Hank. I don’t think he ever even saw the inside of my apartment."

I mulled over that, thinking of all the times I’d been over to Sara’s place, with Warrick, playing Trivial Pursuit, or watching a movie and drinking beer with Sara, or making dinner together.

"Okay. So what about Grissom?"

"What about him?" she flushed. "He turned me down. It’s taken me a while, but I’ve gotten over Grissom."

"So soon?" I asked, guardedly.

"Well, a no is a no," Sara replied, dryly.

"So I’m second best, then?" I wondered aloud.

"Not exactly," Sara ducked her head. "I’ve just started thinking about how silly it all seems. Waiting, I mean. I always thought I would wait until I met someone that I loved. But it seems the ones I love don’t love me back. So, that leaves me limited options, doesn’t it?" Sara couldn’t help but sound bitter.

"Why me?" The sixty-four thousand-dollar question was out on the table.

"You have...the experience...that I...don’t," she finally managed, biting her lip. "You’ve slept with enough girls to...make it good for me. And we’re friends, right? So I know you won’t hurt me."

"Is that all?"

"Well, I would hope you wouldn’t laugh or make fun of me," she added wryly.

"I wouldn’t do that."

I studied her in the dim light of the car. She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful, but tonight she was in that blue shirt that I loved, with a Celtic pendant clasped gently around the hollow of her throat. Her b low low-rise pants made her hips look smaller and boyish. Her dark hair was down tonight, swishing around her shoulders as she leaned forward against the steering wheel, staring out at the city lights. She had a thoughtful frown across her thin lips, her brow knitted in concentration.

"I would kill for a cigarette right about now," she finally sighed. Her right hand came to rest on the console between us, and I took it in mine. Tori Amos’s "Taxi Ride" came on the radio, and together we sat and listened to the soft melody and incomprehensible lyrics.

"So, we’re going to do this," I replied, softly, after several long minutes of silence. She looked over at me with raised eyebrows, as if it were the first time either of us had even suggested it. The look changed from incredulity to nervousness in a matter of seconds.

"What should I wearouldould I wear makeup? How should I fix my hair?"

"I don’t care about any of that," I murmured. "But wearing those jeans, the tight ones, wouldn’t hurt," I grinned.

"I have a black dress..." she trailed off, looking back out towards the horizon.

"The jeans. Let’s keep it casual," I offered.

"Okay," Sara nodded. "I’ll bring a bottle of wine. Or...something."

"Don’t be nervous, Sara. It’s just sex," I tried to give her a smile that was reassuring.

"Easy for you to say," she snorted.

"Well, do you want to practice?" I asked, boldly.

Sara’s mouth dropped open, and then shut with a smart click. "Ri-right now?" she stammered.

"Sure. Why not? Who’s watching?"

"What if we get caught?"

"By whom? Squirrels? Coyotes?"

"Uh, how about LVPD? They patrol up here regularly."

"C’mon, baby, live a little," I pushed the console up, making the seat into a full bench. Pushing down the protruding seatbelts, I scooted closer to her. She awkwardly approached me by sliding over also, meeting me in the center. I immediately lifted my hand to cup the side of her face, to pull her closer to me. Leaning forward, my mouth played at her lower lip, kissing and sucking hungrily. Sara grunted in surprise, and started when I brought my other hand to rest on her hip.

Her lips parted and I took full advantage, deepening the kiss immediately. Sara moaned against my mouth incoherently, and I moved even closer to her. She shifted in the seat, wanting to be closer, wanting to accommodate me.

"You taste so good," I whispered as we broke apart, panting. Leaning back, her eyes were sparkling poof chf chocolate regard.

"You taste good, too," she echoed. Eyeing my lips, she came forward again, and pressed her sweet mouth against mine in a hot open-mouthed kiss. Our tongues slid across one another, and played gently against the other’s as we exchanged wet warmth. Sara arched against me, her hands resting against my chest, eagerly exchanging each of my kisses with one of her own. Seeking a more comfortable position, I leaned backwards onto the seat, pulling Sara down atop me. She had no more grace than a newborn colt, but she was captivating nonetheless as she gently rode my extended thigh.

I helped her get closer and then pulled her head aside to latch my ravenous mouth onto the tender skin of her neck. At that point, Sara practically came unglued. Each pulsing suck on her neck caused her to buck and moan almost uncontrollably. I slid the slender tip of my tongue across her collarbone, the hollow of her neck, and she shook against me in almost unbearable feeling. Each nip and suck was met with wet mewls of pleasure, and she twisted around to writhe against my leg more urgently. She was about to come in my arms, I could feel it, could practically see the steam coming from her ears. She licked her already-moistened lips, her low cry of delight aborted when I abruptly stopped sucking and instead kissed a hot trail up her neck to her ear.

She whimpered, and I whispered, "not yet." A shy look of disappointment crossed her features. I sucked her earlobe cautiously, and found her reaction just as hot as before. With one last grind against me, I released her flesh with an audible ‘pop.’

She sat up, and we parted, drifting back to our own sides of the seat.

"So that was pretty hot," she confirmed.

"I’ll say," I used my drawl for effect, and I saw her shiver in anticipation.

She calculated effortlessly, "only two days, seventeen hours and thirty six minutes to go."





TO BE CONTINUED…