Pages

Sunday, February 27, 2011

CSI: Pattern (NR-17)



Pairing:  Sara Sidle/Catherine Willows.
Summary:  Catherine's developed a pattern.
CSI was created by Anthony E Zuiker and is Copyright © Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS.

* * * *

I find myself developing a pattern.

I make some cutting remarks to provoke her, to hurt her.

We fight.

I leave work with the sad, hurt look in her eyes haunting me.

I end up at a bar where I drink to take the edge off.

I find a suitable replica of her. Male, female, it doesn’t matter as long as they have the tall, lean, yet strong frame with dark hair and eyes.

I go back to their place or to a motel and fuck them. At least I have enough self respect to practice safe sex.

I go home a mere shell of myself and cry myself to sleep desperately wishing it was her I was in bed with, fucking, loving.

I continue this pattern around my life with my daughter, my friends, my job.

I’m staring at the ceiling pondering the less than stellar part of my life as my latest conquest lays down between my spread legs.

At first glance you would think that it was at last her. But even one quick glance tells me it’s not. I have everything about her memorised. The way her hair sits when she’s straightened it or when she has let the natural curl appear. How when she wears it up there are always those same strands of hair that manage to escape and hang lose around her face.

This one is close but not anywhere near close enough to the one I really want. Her body language just isn’t the same and her eyes, while the right shade, just aren’t the right ones.

She is looking me in the eye as she goes down on me, her tongue and mouth working at my centre through the thin piece of protective latex. I’m turned on but I know because she isn’t my hearts desire it will take some time for me to get there.

Closing my eyes I let my mind take over and I imagine I’m where I want to be.

In her apartment.

In her bed.

The images of her naked do the job and in no time at all I’m red hot and ready, racing towards release.

Afterwards as I struggle to catch my breath my mystery girl moves to lie beside me.

For the life of me I can’t remember her name. Maybe I didn’t ask it.

“So who’s Sara?”

At the mention of her I am filled with anger. How dare she say her name.

“None of your business.”

I feel her eyes on me as I move off the bed and begin to dress.

“Well the way you were moaning her name she must be one hot babe.”

My emotions are all over the place as I finish doing up the buttons on my shirt. Sitting on the edge of the bed I begin to put my shoes on as I open my big mouth.

“Yes, yes she is.”

Once I’m fully dressed I move towards the door, picking up my purse from the coffee table. I’m just about to the door when my latest play thing decides to play match maker.

“Well if you want my opinion, if I had a hot babe like that around I wouldn’t be here with some stranger you picked up at a bar.”

Slamming the door behind me I head off to hail a cab.

This has made it too real. Before my one night stands were always separate from my ordinary life, from my feelings for Sara. But now everything was jumbled together.

I desperately need to see her and before I know what I’m doing I’ve given the cab driver her address. Within minutes the cab has pulled up outside Sara’s apartment building.

My need to see her is so great that I pay the driver and make my way up to her floor without a second thought.

The look on her face when she opens the door is priceless. The look of complete shock soon gives way to curiosity as she lets me in.

The second I step foot inside my emotions gain freedom. Pacing in front of her couch I see a look of concern on her face as I glance towards her.

I can’t believe I have come here after fucking like a wild animal with some bimbo. Her smell is all over me. I have to get it off.

My thoughts are interrupted by Sara who has stopped my pacing by gently grabbing my shoulders and turning me to face her.

“Cath are you ok? Has something happened to Lindsay?”

God I’m here acting like a lunatic and instead of getting mad and throwing me out she is worried about me, about Lindsay.

I shake my head. “We’re fine.”

The look on her face tells me she doesn’t completely believe me.

“I need a shower.”

I look up to make eye contact. The surprised look on her face would be comical at any other time. Right now I need to get clean before I can think straight.

“Oh. Sure, bathroom is through to your right. Help yourself to shampoo, what ever you need. Towels are fresh so just use whatever’s in there.”

I’m halfway to the bathroom before she has finished talking.

* * * *

I don’t know how long I spent under the shower, guessing I’d say almost half an hour. Once I’m dry I look at my clothes piled on the floor, I really don’t want to put them back on.

After debating with myself I decide to put on the white bathrobe hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

I find her leaning against the kitchen counter deep in thought. She has that focused look she gets when she is trying to figure something out.

God she is sexy.

I’ll never understand why she can’t see how beautiful she is. She is oblivious to the affect she has on men and more than just a few women. I’ve even caught Sofia checking her out on more than one occasion.

Looking over at me when she hears me move through the apartment she doesn’t acknowledge my choice of attire. Pushing off the counter with her hip she comes to stand in front of me.

“What’s going on Cath?”

The gentle tone of voice filled with concern is my undoing. I don’t even attempt to stop the tears as they fall. I’m lost in those pools of brown that have always had me hypnotised.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The next thing I know I’m being pulled forward and hugged to her body. I simply wrap my arms around her and cry on her shoulder.

We stand there in the middle of her living room embracing long after I stop crying. She has started to rub my back and whisper words of comfort. Without realising what I am doing I brush my lips against her neck.

Her body tenses for a moment before she moves her head back enough so she can look at me. Before I can say anything she cups one of my cheeks with her hand, gently brushing her thumb over my lips.

Gazing into her eyes I can see a battle going on inside her. I feel an almost overwhelming joy spread through me as I see desire and what I hope is love in her eyes. At the same time I can tell she is unsure of what to do about it.

Deciding to help her along in her thoughts I turn my face to the side and kiss the palm of her hand.

That seems to do the trick as she ever so slowly moves to kiss me. The moment her lips touch mine I know this is right.

This is the place I was always meant to be.

This is the person I was always meant to be with.

That first gentle kiss soon escalates and in no time at all we are involved in a full blown make out session.

We finally break apart to catch our breaths.

Grabbing her hands I guide them to the sash holding my robe together.

Her eyes go wide as the realisation of what I want hits her. She’s too cute for words sometimes.

I decide to let her off the hook.

“Baby, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want ok.”

She looks up from her hands to meet my gaze.

“It’s just I’m not good at this stuff. I do want to be with you. I just don’t want to mess this up.”

It looks like she wants to go slow. I’ve never done slow before but Sara basically just said that she wants to be with me for more than just sex so I’m sure as hell going to do slow.

Hell if it means I get to be with the woman I love I’d even say yes to Lindsay being our chaperone on our dates.

“Sara it’s ok. We don’t have to do anything now. All I want is to curl up in bed next to you and sleep.”

The full blown smile that slowly spreads across her face is enough to make me want to dance for joy.

As she takes my hand and leads me towards her bedroom I decide that one day I will do a dance of another kind, just for her.

* * * *

I find myself developing a pattern.

I work hard.

When I go home I spend as much time as I can with the ones I love.

My daughter Lindsay.

And my lover Sara Sidle.

The End.

No comments:

Post a Comment