Chapter Text
You can always say stop.
Lady Heather parted her lips slightly, keeping very little distance between them, but enough to entice him to want to close the gap. She knew how to play a man's desire like a finely tuned instrument, but she didn't want to play with Grissom's; she wanted to submit to it. Feel it. Capture it within her. But it was going to be his decision.
So can you.
Her mouth was warm and lush as he claimed it with his own in a slow, deep kiss. A woman of her worth made a man want to savor her, drink her in without letting a drop go to waste. Warmth spread through his senses, his blood rushing hot beneath his skin. With one hand twisted in her hair, he let the other hand graze down her arm to the small of her back, resting on the exposed skin between her corset and flowing skirt. With gentle fingertips he brought her in closer until he could fully feel the heat that was coming off her body in waves. He wanted, needed, to feel that heated skin against his own.
I need you.
But Lady Heather was a professional, and she knew what he wanted the moment it entered his mind.
"Why don't we retreat to a place that offers more…privacy?" The words dripped from her mouth like honey and Grissom stole another taste in spite of himself. She backed up a few steps, keeping him captive with her eyes before revolving slowly to lead him to her chambers. Her intent was to keep him enthralled with her body as well as her soul, and as she drifted away from him, her long skirt swirling like smoke around her elegant form, Grissom caught himself wondering what secrets lie beneath. She moved like liquid, graceful and fluid, every motion poised and refined. What was she like, untamed?
When she stopped, a languid turn bringing her around to face him, he seized her once again in a searing kiss. Lady Heather fought between years of training and pure impulse, but since Grissom was not a paying customer, she allowed herself the freedom to let down her dominant guard. His jacket fell away to the floor and her hands moved to tug at the buttons of his shirt. When she released him from the confines of his shirt, she reveled in the feel of his skin, her hands treading softly up his arms to the curls at the nape of his neck. She backed up slightly to look at him and was suddenly puzzled by what flickered in his eyes.
"There's someone else you want, isn't there, Mr. Grissom?"
Lady Heather's voice, though soft and gentle, carried a faint timbre of accusation. Grissom was startled by her insight and wondered how it was that it became so obvious. He was here, attempting to make love to another woman, but Sara's name was resonating in his heart. And she had caught him. The fervor of trying to put Sara behind him was no match to how he actually felt. It was emblazoned on his heart, burning those who tried to fight past it. Not even the seduction of another woman, one so beautiful and alluring, could extinguish it.
Since when have you been interested in beauty?
Since I met you.
Grissom only sighed and looked at her, the guilt in his eyes his only answer.
Lady Heather had seen all kinds come through the doors to her dominion, and was well aware of the look of longing, of yearning, of pain. She had gotten to know Grissom, so the empathy she now felt for him was genuine.
"Men come here all the time to play out fantasies of what they cannot have in real life. It's what makes this business thrive. We've all been substitutes for what the heart truly yearns for, whether it be pain or the escape from it."
"This may be true, Lady Heather, but I'm not here as a customer." With that, the sudden realization dawned that he was shirtless in the bedroom of a dominatrix. He might not be a paying customer, but he was no longer here on business. At least…not his business.
"But you are still seeking respite from the pain, whether you want to admit to it or not."
Grissom still chose to defend his stance, as if it mattered anymore why he was there. "I came to you to ask for help concerning the investigation."
"And this," Lady Heather pressed herself against Grissom, her lips once again teasingly close to his, "does this help with your investigation?"
Grissom inhaled slowly to keep the balance he admitted he was losing. "I suppose not."
"You came here for help concerning one matter, but somehow you chose to seek help on another. Let me help you, Mr. Grissom. Let me be the surrogate of the one you truly desire."
With thoughts of Sara pulsing through his veins, he surrendered. Like one who drinks to erase suffering, Grissom imbibed of Lady Heather, savoring the taste of her lips, indulging in the silkiness of her porcelain skin, in the warmth inside her. A warm body was so much more a consolation than alcohol, and being wanted, even for a moment, was better than the emptiness he felt at the bottom of a glass.
Lady Heather's breath was warm against his ear as he kissed the delicate arch of her neck. Her russet tresses splayed out against the pillow as he moved his way down her body, she arched to give him full access to her soft, supple skin. As he skimmed across sensitive areas, she ran her fingers through his thick curls that were now damp with sweat. Her own body glistened as they moved together, urgent and wanting, searching for belonging. He moved back up to capture her mouth, breathing erratic, lips tangling with salt and passion. Their voices mingled in a heated melody, ending in shuddering gasps.
Lying in his arms in the wake of their passionate encounter, Lady Heather rested. She allowed herself to feel in ways that were forbidden to her profession; she felt almost prosaic, as one might feel cuddled in the arms of a lover. But she knew that Gil Grissom would never be more than a man confused by his love for another woman. So she cherished that moment as long as she could, closing her eyes to keep the moment in her mind's eye.
Grissom held Lady Heather, absentmindedly running his hand up and down the soft curve of her back. Would the curve of Sara's back feel so soft? Would she be as warm, as welcoming? In a moment that he thought would make him feel better, he realized that it had made him feel worse. He had used Lady Heather to try to cleanse himself of his anguish at a situation he felt he created. True Lady Heather had volunteered herself, but he could have declined. He closed his eyes to purge his mind of images of the sweet brunette who haunted his thoughts.
They fell asleep like this, dreaming of distant desires.