Sara finally got back from court late in the afternoon. It had been a drawn out case, long but not particularly taxing, and she was glad to have it wrapped up, especially as she had the whole next day off to spend with Grissom. Just the two of them. With that thought in mind, and a sly grin on her face, she set off to see if he was still in the lab. She always enjoyed tearing him away from his paperwork. She ran into Catherine on the way to his office.

"Hey Cat, did Grissom leave yet? I wanted to fill him in on the court case." The lie came out with practiced ease and a seemingly innocent smile. Sara and Grissom often used similar excuses as euphemisms between themselves, making it altogether harder to say them seriously. Yes, she was definitely going to fill him in later…

"Yeah, you missed him. He left a message for you though. He wants you to clean up some experiment. He said that you owed him." A metaphorical bucket of ice cold water shocked Sara out of her train of thought as the words sank in. A big bucket.

"He said what?!"

"Hey, just the messenger. There's cleaning supplies in the janitor's closet. Apparently it's a messy one." Catherine held her hands up in a gesture of helplessness, and wisely left Sara to it. The Sidle rage was a blanket bomb that would consume all in its path. When she was pissed, it was every man for themselves. No way was Catherine going to take the fall for Grissom. The man clearly had a death wish.

Sara's good mood evaporated instantly. Grissom was in for it when she got home. He knew she'd been in court all day, and so naturally he would think that cleaning away his crap was a good substitute for her going home to relax. When she got her hands on him, he was so dead. She was going to make him sorry that he messed with her, and she wouldn't stop until he begged her forgiveness. She marched to the janitor's closet like a woman on a mission. The sooner she had it done, the sooner she could go give Grissom a piece of her mind, and then let him make it up to her for the rest of the evening.

She pushed the door open but before she could reach for the light switch she was grabbed by the arm and pushed against the wall, a strong hand clapped across her mouth. Her shock quickly dissipated as Grissom used his free hand to turn the key in the lock. The skylight above the door silhouetted his features. Sara shivered involuntarily, her heart pounding in her ear. Her sparks of rage were now burning hot with excitement.

"Thank you for arriving so promptly to this meeting." Grissom pinned her to the wall with his body and whispered the words huskily into her ear.

"I am laying two ground rules for this discussion. First, you will remain silent unless asked a direction question. Second, you will obey me with the respect due to a supervisor." A wicked gleam in his eye at this. "Is that understood?"

He removed his hand to allow her to speak.

"Griss, we're at work. Remember the rules." She had to at least pretend to be concerned about this, as tempting as it was to go along with this newfound spontaneity. Grissom had always been so adamant about no personal stuff at work. What in the hell had come over him?

"Clearly you have not understood the severity of the situation, Miss Sidle. This is a work-related grievance that will result in disciplinary action unless I am entirely satisfied by the end of this meeting." Only the smallest twitch of his lips gave away his double entendre.

"Besides," he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "we're both off the clock."

"Why, Gilbert, you're so professional." Sara's hands exploring Grissom's chest belied her choice of adjective.

"I believe I have informed you of the rules for this meeting, Miss Sidle. Kindly repeat them back to me." He caught her wandering hands, stopping them in their tracks, and started his own, rougher, exploration of her body.

"I… Err… Obey you… and… err… respect" Sara's train of thought was severely impeded by Grissom undoing her blouse and pulling her bra cups down. When he began rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, any remote chance of the second rule revealing itself to her evaporated into thin air. She moaned her enjoyment as he continued to fondle her breasts.

"You must remain silent, Miss Sidle." Grissom dropped his head to her chest and sucked a nipple into his mouth, attacking it voraciously with his tongue.

"Yes." The word came out as a rush of air.

"Yes, what?" This was said around her nipple, Grissom's hot breath moist against her skin.

"Yes, sir." A grin spread across Sara's face as she felt Grissom harden against her thigh at this. It hadn't taken long for her to work out that he got off on being in control, and she was always more than willing to oblige him.

"Good. Now, a certain incident has come to my attention. I have been informed that you questioned your supervisor's abilities in an extremely important, on-going experiment. I'm sure you are aware of what I'm referring to." Grissom ran his hand up her thigh as he spoke, stroking her above her thong. He moved it to one side then dipped his first two fingertips into her wetness and began to spread it onto her clit, still whispering to her with that low, gravely voice that always got her insanely hot. He ignored her soft whimpers of delight as he continued to speak.

"You were getting ready for court this morning. You remember?"

"Uh-huh." The things Grissom was doing to her made it virtually impossible for Sara to concentrate on what he was saying, let alone on produce a coherent response.

"What were you wearing?" He prompted, stilling his movements for a brief moment allowing the thick haze of lust to clear sufficiently for Sara to answer.

"My black skirt." She managed to whisper, still trying to move wantonly against his fingers. Her breath was warm and desperate against his ear.

"Please state the skirt's full name for the record." Somehow Grissom was still the epitome of cool, calm and collected, despite his evident arousal pressing into Sara's thigh.

"My black 'Come fuck me' skirt." A pouty little smile. Grissom continued to massage her clit, then moved his fingers to slide into her. If her arousal hadn't been obvious before, the ease with which his fingers entered her and the unselfconscious moan that accompanied it left no doubt whatsoever.

"And your panties?" He began to move his fingers inside her.

"Griiiiiiiss…"

"Please, Miss Sidle, it is pertinent to this investigation." He stilled his hand once more.

"A black lace thong." Sara managed to force out between pants, her hips bucking frantically against his fingers, desperately trying to recreate the lost friction.

"And it is to be understood that your supervisor requested your urgent participation in an ongoing experiment of significant scientific importance?"

"You asked me to help you see if the dining room table would hold both our weights!" Sara protested, indignant despite her arousal.

"As I said, significant scientific importance. Now what exactly was your response?"

"I said I bet your legs would give way before the table's." There was a definite smirk and a low chuckle as she said this.

"Miss Sidle, you have a smart mouth. Clearly I'm going to have to show you something more productive to do with it. Kneel down." Grissom removed his fingers from her and Sara didn't hesitate for a second in dropping to her knees.

"Undo my fly." Sara's whole body was trembling with lust, and it took a few moments for her to coordinate her hands sufficiently to obey the command. When she finally managed it, she wasted no time in pushing Grissom's pants down and reaching into his boxers to release his straining hard-on. She pumped it up and down a few times with her hand, using her finger to spread the pre-cum that glistened at the head.

"Put it in your mouth." Grissom's voice wavered slightly; the first sign that his restraint was starting to fail him. Sara wasted no time in obeying him, parting her full lips over the head, then leaning forward until they met her hand gripping the base. She was rewarded with a low moan of approval that prompted her to suck firmly on his erection. Both of Grissom's hands instinctively found their way into her hair as she began to bob her head up and down, tugging it out of the conservative 'up do' that she had worn to court. He leant forward and rested his forehead on the cool wall, closing his eyes to focus on the sensations Sara was creating through his most intimate organ.

"Ooooh honey." Grissom's hips began to move gently with same rhythm as Sara's mouth. He carried on massaging her scalp, and started to vocalise in hot, lustful whispers, knowing how much Sara loved to hear his enjoyment.

"Been thinking about this all day. Thinking about you. Thinking about that fucking hot little skirt." Sara started to moan around his cock, sending vibrations all the way to the base, and flipping Grissom's switch from aroused to incoherent.

"All I could think about. All day. That skirt. Pushed up to your waist. God, you're so. Fucking. Sexy. Those lips. That mouth. That smart. Fucking. Mouth. You know what you do to me. You do it on purpose. Rile me up. Get me so. Damn. Hot for you. Oh, honey. God, you suck me so well." Suddenly all of Sara's ministrations seemed to synchronise perfectly, pulling him in one fast movement towards orgasm.

"Oh God, yeah. Love fucking your hot little – Sara!" As his babbling got more intense, Grissom used his last flimsy shred of will power to suspend his pleasure and push Sara's head gently away from him.

"Well," he cleared his throat as she stood up, coyly wiping her lips, "You…err… seem to have learnt your lesson. And, as long as you agree to fully participate in the conclusion of the experiment, this will not be added to your permanent record."

"The conclusion? Ooooh!" Sara squealed as Grissom hooked his arms under her legs, spreading her thighs with his own before lifting her and pinning her against the wall. He entered into her in one hard movement skyward, wasting no time in setting a furious pace. The effort of holding Sara up meant that he couldn't withdraw more than a couple of inches with each thrust, but he compensated for it by making each one as hard as physically possible, and with his weight pressing firmly on her clit and his cock repeatedly rammed up against her G-spot, Sara was soon whispering hoarse cries of enjoyment. Grissom's thighs were quaking with exertion, but he was determined to prove her wrong. Suddenly Sara's eyes flew open.

"Oh Holy Shit, Griss, I'm gonna come."

"S'the general idea." He muttered without letting up the pace.

"It's gonna be loud." She only just had time to explain herself before the full force of her orgasm took her. Her head fell forward onto Grissom's shoulder, muffling her ecstasy to some extent, as she rode out the white-hot wave of pleasure that coursed through her. Her muscles clenched around his cock, coating it with the slippery evidence of her enjoyment. Smaller tremors chased the first and biggest, and soon after Grissom followed Sara over the edge, spilling everything he had into her. After a moment of satisfied stillness he let her legs down gently, planting a soft kiss on her lips. They both began to try to make themselves look decent, doing up buttons, and smoothing creases. Grissom attempted to re-do Sara's hair, but quickly gave it up as a lost cause.

"So do you fancy lasagne tonight? We still have that veggie mince you like." He said as he opened the door just a crack to check there was no one in the vicinity. Seeing that all was clear he opened it to leave.

"What's for dessert?" Sara asked as he left, smiling as she heard his mutter something about insatiable women as he practically swaggered down the corridor to clock out. It always amazed her how Grissom was able to switch from being her own personal Adonis bent on fulfilling her every sexual fantasy, one after another, to being regular, every-day, grave shift supervisor Grissom, who she looked up to as her intellectual role model, worked with on a daily basis, and who adamantly refused to visit the lingerie section with her. No wonder none of the others had caught on. She would never have dreamt in her wildest dreams, much less actually guessed, that this side to Grissom existed. With a last wistful smile in the direction Grissom had just gone, Sara left the janitor's closet, completely oblivious to the air vent that linked it with the men's bathroom next door.

There, on the other end of the vent, Greg sat paralysed on the toilet, his pants round his ankles, his wide eyes staring straight ahead, his jaw hung open in absolute shock, and the paper he had been reading tented by his raging hard-on.