Kinky

Chapter Six

Grissom was in her apartment. In her bedroom. It seemed so normal as he pulled her flush against him, running one hand down her back to rest on her ass and the other cupping her face firmly, allowing him to ravage her mouth in a passionate assault that had her on sensory overload. Sara moaned into his mouth as he squeezed her ass appreciatively before moving both hands to tackle her shirt. It was unceremoniously dispensed of at their feet, quickly followed by his own, although Sara was not entirely sure which of them had divested him. The next thing she knew, she was flush against him once more, his lips were on her again, this time placing hot, open mouth kisses on her neck and collar bone, eliciting more soft whimpers.

Grissom pushed her back slowly and steadily, until she felt her legs give way to the bed that seemed to spring from nowhere. Surprised when he didn’t immediately join her, Sara felt a shiver run through her, all the way to her sex, when Grissom removed his jeans, then leant over her to remove hers, pulling them excruciatingly slowly down her legs, his eyes never leaving hers. Now he joined her on the bed, pulling her to him again. She revelled in the feel of his muscular body against her own. Grissom used his finger to tip her chin back up, eager to continue exploring her mouth with his tongue. His hands were back on her ass, kneading it firmly with both hands then holding it as he ground his erection into her sex, their underwear the only barrier. Sara broke the blistering kiss to moan deeply into his neck, writhing wantonly beneath him.

“Please…” She whispered. They broke apart briefly, each removing their underwear, quickly and gracelessly, before returning their lips to each other. Grissom gently pushed Sara’s shoulder until her back was flat against the bed. He placed a hand on each of her thighs, encouraging them fully open, before moving above her. Their eyes locked as he positioned his erection at her opening. Sara’s breath hitched in anticipation. Then he moved and…

…The beeping grew louder, finally rousing Sara from her sleep.

“God. Fucking. Damn it!” It had been another dream. Another. Fucking. Dream. Her left arm swung out with practiced precision to turn off the alarm, then opened the drawer below without hesitation to remove her vibrator. Turning it on to half speed, Sara lowered her panties to slip it between her thighs, where she held it, enjoying the vibrations that rippled gently through her sex. She started to squirm against it, her body seeking out the offered pleasure, and her wet excitement starting to coat the rubber shaft. Now, where was she..? Ah yes…

There would be a moment, Sara was sure of it, where Grissom would pause, the gravity of the act they were about to perform finally registering. He would look deep into her eyes as if to prove to her he was one hundred per cent there, not afraid any more, and then he would begin to inch his way in. Sara began to mimic his imagined actions with the vibrator, twisting the base to increase the speed. Once he was inside her, any semblance of restraint would disappear as he set a furious pace. Each thrust hit her deliciously at that sweetest spot within, and her whimpers first became moans and then husky pleas. Grissom would nestle his forehead against her shoulder, allowing her to hear his babbled declarations, incoherent musings of lust that finally swept Sara over the precipice into white hot pleasure that shot out from her sex through every nerve in her body, followed by a trembling warmth as gentler aftershocks rocked her enjoyably.

A few seconds later coherent thought returned, and with it the feeling of hopelessness that rotted away deep in her belly. As enjoyable as the fantasy was, it was just that, a fantasy. She would never get to experience what she had longed for body and soul for years. Not because he wasn’t interested, but because she wasn’t worth the risk. Sara checked the time, and her frustration upped itself another notch when she realised she no longer had time for her daily run, a must if she wanted turn her stress into positive energy before her shift started. Damn you, Gil Grissom, she thought as she returned her toy to its drawer. It felt so good that she said it aloud.

“Damn you, Gil Grissom.” She felt a bit like a petulant child as she said it, frustrating her further. Clattering around her apartment, she got ready for work, trying in vain to will away the storm clouds that were gathering inside her. By the time her car pulled up at the lab, she was officially pissed.

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“Guess what I’ve got.” Sara closed her locker to see Thayer leaning against the door frame brandishing a piece of paper excitedly.

“Did you get a lead? Did you find the husband?!” As soon as she had bitten, Thayer hid the paper behind his back playfully.

“I could tell you…” He stroked his chin, pretending to ponder it. “Then again Nick wanted to come with me, help me reel in the big fish…” He trailed off again, teasing her.

“Come on, Mark, you know how much I want this.” She didn’t like where this conversation was going, anymore than she liked being alone with him here where anyone (Hodges) could walk by. Plus this was really not the day for trying to play games with her.

“Thing is Sara, I’m not sure I do. How much do you want this?” He smirked at her infuriatingly. Sara’s brain flicked through all her alternatives within a matter of seconds. She was sure there was only one thing he wanted; subtlety was definitely not one of his talents. With a ill grace she resigned herself.

“I’ll go to dinner with you.” She resigned herself to the fact that this would be half way round the lab by the time she stepped out of the locker room. In fact, was that Hodges strolling past again? Thayer pretended to be weighing up her offer as if he hadn’t been hounding her ever since he’d set eyes on her. One dinner can’t hurt, she told herself, especially if I get to bring the suspect in for Grissom.

“Grab your coat, baby.” He grinned, somehow impervious to the death-rays Sara glared at him.

Thankfully any further advances were kept on hold as they drove to the crime scene. Sara wasn’t sure what the protocol was for shooting a colleague who fumbled your knee for the gear change in an automatic car, but the last time they’d driven to a crime scene she had thought she would find out. Only the shortness of the trip had saved her. This time though, Thayer was quieter and he kept his hands to himself. The few comments he did make were to ascertain what type of restaurant she might like. In spite of herself, Sara felt flattered; she couldn’t remember the last time a guy other than Greg had been excited at the prospect of spending time with her. They arrived in Summerlin and navigated their way through the sprawling suburban landscape.

“Nobody’s home.” Brass greeted them at the house, typically getting straight to the point. “I was just about to start questioning the neighbours.”

“I vote we start with house 2583.” Thayer said decisively. Both Brass and Sara looked at him in confusion.

“Any special reason?” Sara was glad Brass asked it, she hated not being able to follow other people’s logic. It made her feel stupid.

“I like the front yard. All those flowers. I bet she’s a gardener.” Thayer started to move towards the house. This time Sara had to ask.

“Who?”

“The lady who is going to pull down her net curtains if she keeps tweaking them back to watch us like that.” Sure enough, the curtain moved again as Sara looked at the main window. She hated to admit it, but she was impressed. “Plus, it’s always the nosey neighbours who have the nice front yards. It’s really just an excuse to stand outside their house and spy on the neighbourhood all day.” He rang the doorbell and they waited as a murky figure appeared behind the frosted glass. The door opened four inches and an elderly woman squinted at them from behind a chain which denied access to the house.

“Good morning, ma’am, I’m Captain Brass with the LVPD.” Brass presented his badge for the old lady’s scrutiny, which seemed to do nothing to allay the suspicion that was carved into her face. She did condescend to take the chain off the door though, and ushered them quickly in, through her front porch and back several decades in time if the décor was anything to judge by. After they had all introduced themselves, the woman –Lily Rosenberg- refused to speak another word until she had prepared tea for them all with a lavish china tea service.

“Mrs Rosenberg, we just need to ask you a few questions about your neighbour from across the road and then we’ll be out of your hair.” Sara figured she probably rarely had company. It was one of the things Anne mentioned occasionally in reference to her friends back home. Several of them had been moved into residential complexes by ungrateful children who sold belongings they had taken a lifetime to accrue and seldom came to visit. After just two minutes Sara knew Anne would like Lily.

“It’s no trouble, my girl, no trouble at all.” She spoke to Sara as if she were twelve, and not much differently to the men either.

“Mrs Rosenberg, do you know the couple that live across the street? Mr and Mrs Stevens?” Brass asked, trying to balance the cup and saucer clumsily on his knee.

“That tramp? There’s not a soul in the neighbourhood who doesn’t know what she gets up to. Reminds me of my daughter-in-law. She bleaches her hair like some movie star, waltzing around like she’s better than us all.”

“Mrs Stevens?”

“No, dear, my daughter-in-law.”

“Have you seen Mrs Stevens recently?” Brass persevered.

“Not for about two weeks. I remember I was taking out the trash. It takes a while at my age. No one around here ever offers to help. They’d rather watch a frail old lady struggle down to the sidewalk, bones aching all the way. Then she came out, looked me square in the eye then acted like she couldn’t see me. Thinks the world revolves around her. Just like my daughter-in-law. Won’t so much as lift a finger for someone else, but expects to be waited on hand and foot. She’ll never be good enough for him.”

“Your daughter-in-law?” Brass guessed, now thoroughly confused.

“No, Stacey Stevens.” Lily sighed theatrically. “And they say I’m crazy.” She murmured loud enough for them all to hear. Thayer looked away diplomatically, but Sara could hardly contain her grin.

“Mrs Rosenberg, did Mrs Stevens leave with anybody that night?” Sara swiftly changed the subject.

“She was out with a different one every night, dear. They call it escorting, but it had another name in my day. That night was Mr BMW. I remember because it had a long scratch up the side that was never there before.”

“So you’d seen him before?” Thayer asked.

“Yes, dear. Same car, tall man with dark hair.”

“Did you get the licence plate?” Thayer continued hopefully.

“You may have time to spend every evening spying on the visitors to your neighbours, young man, but I have better things to do with my time.” Sara disguised a full on snort of laughter by pretending to sneeze, but this still was not enough to save her from Thayer’s annoyed glare. Not many men’s pride would take an ear bashing like Lily was able to dole out. Grissom would like the woman, Sara realised with a smile.

Soon after, the trio made their good-byes and left for the lab. The drive back was silent. Thayer seemed unusually ruffled, whether it was from finding out the prime suspect had been dead for two years or from the scolding he’d received was unclear. Sara found her mind drifting between pleasant thoughts of Grissom and Anne and sad thoughts of Lily. It seemed so unfair that someone who had raised and loved a family should be left on their own. When they arrived back at the lab, Sara went to check her messages with Judy.

“Hi Sara, just one message from Grissom.” She handed over the message with a smile.

“Thanks Judy.” Sara murmured as she turned away, beginning to open it. How strange that Grissom would leave her a note.

“You’re welcome, Sara. Hope your date goes well.” She whirled back around and Judy froze under her glare.

“What?!”

“I just heard you and Mark Thayer were going on a date. I really remember who said, but I think it’s nice you’re seeing someone new.” Judy managed not to stammer, but seemed suitably terrified so Sara knew she was telling the truth.

“Thanks, Judy.” She left it there and made a beeline for the Trace lab. Hodges was going to suffer a horrible, painful… She stopped in her tracks as she remembered the note.

Sara,

I need you to finish up your paperwork for the month so far. Don’t worry if this stops you from coming over for Mom later.

G Grissom

Now she was beyond pissed. Every other month paperwork was left happily breeding in their in-trays. Just because she had found a friend who she looked forward to spending time with, Grissom had decided to cut her off. No, she suddenly realised, it’s not Anne he doesn’t want me to get close to; it’s him. Well, Gilbert Grissom, you’re in for a big surprise, she decided, all of her anger and frustration pouring into a brilliant master plan. Who needs vibrators when you can have hot and sweaty revenge?


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“Gil.” Catherine announced her arrival at the crime scene and proceeded to wait for instruction like a sullen teenager. Grissom acknowledged her presence, now cursing himself for asking her to come along. He had stupidly thought it would clear the air. Clearly he was not going to get off so lightly, he thought, irritated that he now felt like he should be the one to apologise. Did they give women special classes to teach them how to do that, or was it genetic?

“There are six bodies, all female. They worked together at a bondage club and live here together on Goosewing Drive. Each was killed in her own bed. I suspect that they were all drugged to allow the killer to spend time with each girl in turn. This is also the first homicide that doesn’t fit the timeline. It happened after the first girl.” Grissom thanked his lucky stars that the women around him were so easily distracted by work. He reckoned he had bought himself at least ten minutes to come up with an apology.

“Six geese a-laying. Not exactly what the carol brings to mind. This guy is just full of surprises. Hey, have you seen this?” Catherine asked suddenly.

“The newspaper? Yeah, but I haven’t processed it yet. Something important?”

“Maybe. It has a lead story on the lab’s involvement in catching the Kinky killer?” Catherine carefully bagged it so she could read it through the clear plastic.

“The Kinky killer?” Grissom looked up in confusion.

“That’s what the media are calling him.” Grissom raised an eyebrow in distaste. The Las Vegas thirst for the morbid and bizarre never ceased to amaze him. “I’m surprise you didn’t know, being how important the media attention is to you.” Catherine added. Grissom sighed wearily. So much for having a full ten minutes.

“Catherine, I’m sorry if you thought my attitude in the meeting was… cavalier. This case seems to getting to all of us.” Grissom pulled his best ‘feckless man’ face that as a last resort always seemed to get him forgiven for the most stupid mistakes. As expected Catherine gave a long-suffering sigh. Her response, however, caught him off guard.

“Gil, there’s something you should know…”

“Go on…” He replied cautiously.

“After the meeting I was pissed. Really pissed. It felt like you were more worried about the heat from the press than the victims. I’ve seen you follow a pattern before, but never at the expense of people’s lives. I guess it felt like you were suddenly turning political…” Catherine couldn’t look at him. That was one hell of a bad sign. Grissom did not like where this was going at all.

“So..?”

“So… I went to Lady Heather and asked for her professional opinion.” Finally Catherine met his stare, never one to let embarrassment get the better of her. Grissom felt a migraine coming on; the kind that follows a big bottle of scotch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. I have trouble with my hearing.” His reply was loaded with sarcasm.

“Huh?” Catherine faltered in confusion.

“My mistake, I thought we’d gone back five years to when you used to invite my exes to help with cases.” It took a lot to get him riled, but Grissom could feel a hot fireball of anger growing inside him, ready to explode.

“Oh-hoh, so she is an ex. I knew it!” Catherine managed to flip from contrite to gloating in the blink of an eye, and Grissom’s rage was replaced by the sudden dismayed hope that someone, even Ecklie, would page him urgently.

“Perhaps ex is too strong a word.” He hastily started to back track, cursing his errant tongue.

“Regardless, the same applies this time around. Heather knows her stuff, we have no leads, and she’s coming by tomorrow to help us with our profile of the killer.” Catherine packed up the evidence she had processed and left to start the next room, effectively preventing further discussion. Grissom breathed in deeply and exhaled a long, tremulous “fuck”.