A/NThanks to Onxy and Cybrocat who continue to beta my ever increasing work load. 

Months Before

Sara cracked an egg into the stainless steel bowl.  Too hard.  She plucked a shell from the bowl.  She should leave the shell.  Let him choke on it. 

He wanted her to cook for him. Cook.  She had worn her best underwear. She had exfoliated and scrubbed and plucked and shaved until she was as shiny as a new penny and he wanted her to cook for him. 

Aggravation shot through her as she opened the expensive refrigerator and pulled out vegetables and seasoning.  She frowned at the exotic and pedestrian mix of produce.  Grissom liked to eat and he was a good cook but his fair was more meat and potatoes or pasta and red sauce. 

“Since when do you eat guavas and curry Grissom?” she muttered as she slammed the door closed.  Grissom eyes met hers.  She turned towards the compact, equally expensive range.  She wondered how long he had been standing there but decided she didn’t care.

He watched her for several seconds concentrating on the tension in her shoulders as she searched for a cutting board.

“Since I found out that you love curry and guavas,” he said softly.  Sara shrugged of the sideways endearment.  She wanted to shout that she had thought they were making progress, that they were going to make love, well maybe not make love but at the very least have sex.

She straightened and leaned against the counter.  “What the hell are you playing at Grissom?  I thought we were going to….”  Sara stared down at the cutting board she had just unearthed.

“Dearest, you must do something about that temper. Most of the time it doesn’t serve you well and I will not have you snapping at me for no reason.”

Sara’s face bunched up but she released them as soon as she saw the reprimand in his eyes.  “Do you trust me?”

Sara snorted.  She was irritated with his constant references to trust.  Who was he kidding? This wasn’t about trust.  It was about Grissom’s need for control.  She was willing to let him have his illusions if it got her where she wanted to be, closer to Grissom. 

“I trust you with my life.”  She said matter of factly.

“I know that.  How could you not with what we do?  This is about more than that.”

He took a step closer to Sara, his chest nearly touching hers and rested his hand on the swell of her ass.  He couldn’t resist touching her. He was intoxicated with the possession of her. It was using up the last self control he had accumulated over the last few years.  After she had stomped from the room he had resisted the urge to follow immediately, knowing that if he did he would screw her on the kitchen counter until she could barely walk.

He touched her face lifting her chin just a bit till lips barely touched his.    “Death is inevitable.  We will all die someday.  Most of us just try and control the time and place.  I want you to trust me with, dare I say it, your heart.  Your essence.  I want you to trust me to lead you down this path.  To make you more yourself than you have ever been. I will explain this one thing to you but don’t expect it with every command.  Do you understand me?”

Sara nodded, feeling small as he reached over and opened the refrigerator.

 “See any meat in there?” 

Sara scanned the contents. 

“No,” she mumbled.

“That’s because it’s all in my office fridge. I would never ask you to cook it or even look at it.  It’s difficult and painful for you. I made that mistake once.  I won’t do it again.  I went to three stores looking for all your favorite foods because I will do anything to make you comfortable, to make you happy, but most of all, I will do anything to help you grow. Why did I ask you to cook for me, dearest Keiko?”

“Cause you are hungry.”

He laughed.  Sara blushed.

“Well yes.”  He took one hand and stroked her hair.  “Everyone thinks that because you live on take out that you don’t know how to cook, but I happen to know that you are a very good cook and that the reason you don’t cook is because you don’t have anyone to cook for like in Boston and San Francisco.  You don’t just like to cook.  You like to cook for people. Everyone around the table laughing and telling stories.”

“How did you know that?”  Sara asked softly. She wanted to desperately to kiss his hand.

“Your Boston roommates were in my Wednesday afternoon class.  They practically knocked people down trying to make sure they didn’t miss dinner.  Wednesday was your day to cook and if they didn’t get there before the rest of your friends there would be nothing left.  That’s was before I actually knew you were the Sara they were talking about.  Brilliant, smart, cooks.  I thought I had died and gone to heaven.  I waited for you to invite me to dinner.”

Sara lifted her head and searched his face.  “I wanted to but I didn’t know how.  I thought it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“You were right.  I would have lost my job because I would not have been able to control myself.   I would have been terribly obvious and transparent in class and I would have never let you out of my sight.  Age brings about necessary restraint.” He smiled as his eyes drifted downward.  The robe now hung open, parting in the center.  He ran one finger in between her breasts.  So much for control.

Sara shivered and tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

“I want you to cook for me because it makes you happy when you aren’t slamming my very pricey pots and pans around my kitchen.  If you had released yourself to the process you would have found the joy you receive from cooking.  You were so busy being angry with me that you lost yourself in the anger.”

Sara shifted from one foot to the other.  “I apologize,” she said softly moving just a centimeter closer to him.

“You learn very quickly,” he said again into her hair. 

Too quickly.

xxx

Sara was very pleased with herself as she sat the tray across Grissom’s lap. 

“Breakfast Casserole with soy sausage, pancakes with fresh blueberries.  Coffee, extra strong like you like it and orange juice.”

He patted the place next to him.  “Where’s yours?”

Sara looked confused for a second.  “In the kitchen.  I thought you…I don’t know what I thought.  What am I supposed to do here? I brought your paper because I thought you like to do your crosswords over breakfast.”

“I am sorry, Dearest Keiko, I should have been more specific.  I want to eat with you.  Quietly.”

She shifted her weight and the kimono opened. Sara looked down at her feet.  “Heard of it, but I haven’t actually participated in it. I have that over talking thing you know.”

“Yes I know.  We are going to work on that.  My food is getting cold Dearest.  Would you please hurry? I’m starving and I want your food to be eaten as you intended.”

Sara nearly ran to the kitchen trying not to let the giddiness overtake her.

xxxx

Catherine eyed Grissom for several seconds.  “Are you losing weight?”

Grissom looked up from his screen.  “What…?”

“You look like you lost about five pounds.”

“Maybe.  My doctor said I needed to lose weight.  I am trying to eat healthy.  More fruits and vegetables, less red meat.”

Catherine snorted as she moved closer.  “She must be like twenty.  You gotta slow down Gris.  How old is this one?”

He looked at his friend.  He loved Catherine.  Trusted her with his secrets.  Most of them anyway.  For the last few years he’d had a string of girlfriends.  Nothing new about that.  He adored women, liked their company better than most men.  The problem with Regina, Isabelle and Portia was that they weren’t Sara.  They were dark haired and pretty.  Portia was beautiful.  They were all more than smart.  Regina was a genius but she wasn’t Sara.  He had no fire for them.  He didn’t feel like he was dying and living as he did when he was with Sara.  The closet he ever came was Heather.  In the end, she was basically Catherine that gave him a hard on.

He looked up from his paper.  “Older than the last,” he admitted.

Catherine nodded.  “When all this is settled between you, Sara’s going to find out one day.”

He sighed.  “What is it that you think Sara doesn’t know about me?”

Catherine’s pink lips went slack and she searched the wall behind him for answers.  “I…Okay.”

xxx

Sara read the note. 

I have enjoyed our meals together. Your gentle ways and soft conversation are a delight to my heart.  You have beguiled me in ways I never imagined.  As you know, we both have next weekend off.  Please look over the following list and prepare accordingly.  You will continue fulfilling these requests until I decide how else you may please me.

Requests

Start letting hair grow out and please stop straightening it.

Manicure every other week whatever polish you like

Pedicure every other week, red polish please.

We have the next two days off and I would like you to cook me dinner each evening.  I would like to be served promptly at 6:00 p.m.

Start wearing a light scent when we are together.  I prefer rose water but I know you have an affinity for lavender.

Please don’t wear any panties or bra, just your kimono. 

Your patience will be rewarded, dearest Keiko.

Sara looked at the crisp hundred dollar bills that had folded in the expensive paper. Sara punched out numbers lightly on her phone.

“I got your note.”

He spoke softly into the mouth piece.  She could hear other people around him.

“Yes”  He said a octave below his greeting.

“Um, I was wondering.  Um ,I was wondering if you wanted me to shave.  You know or have it waxed.  That Brazilian bikini...

He voice raised enough for Catherine to turn from the clothing she was pulling fibers from.

“No.  No please don’t do that.  I would never ask you do anything that - well - barbaric.”

The thought of Sara’s delicate skin being yanked and hair torn from it made a sweet form at the base of his neck.  The only reason the skin there should be inflamed and red was for one reason.  Otto.

“I am very hairy.  Um, very.”

He smiled.  “I saw that.”

“Oh.  I didn’t know.  I mean if you could tell with just my uh- panties.”

“Some people have complained.”  She admitted finally.

“People?”

“Well, person.”  She relented.

“Asshole,” he said barely above a whisper.  He moved several feet away from the crowd. 

“You don’t even know who it was.” 

“Any man that would say that to any woman who shared herself with him can’t be much else.”

After several false starts Sara spoke.  “I don’t know what to say when you say things like that.”

“Good Dearest.  Good.”  He still had some level of control.

TBC