The Jar Ch. 3

Title: The Jar
Authors: Cincoflex and Kristen Elizabeth
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: GSR
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to us.

Previous Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two



Authors’ Notes: Well, we made it through November. Cinco conquered NaNoWriMo…big round of applause for her! And now we’re back with a new chapter. I’m sure that someone mentioned at least one of these scenarios at one time (we’re loving all the suggestions!), so I hope if this is something you wanted to see, you enjoy it;) Thanks for all the great reviews!

*****

The Jar
by Cincoflex and Kristen Elizabeth

*****

It is one of the superstitions of the human mind to have imagined that virginity could be a virtue. -- Voltaire

*****

Grissom found the jar in his briefcase, and for a moment he blinked, startled as Sara’s daring—that and the fact that she managed it without him noticing. He checked to make sure he was alone in his office, then undid the lid and pulled out a single slip of paper, reading it over the top of his glasses.

He drew in a breath, and his fingers caressed the prompt as his mind raced through the highly pleasurable and possibly forbidden delights of this particular choice. Grissom had always suspected Sara had a cruel streak, and this suggestion of hers seemed to confirm it, but he couldn’t deny that the scenario was a classic, and . . . and . . . .

And made him horny as hell.

Carefully, he put the jar back into his briefcase and tucked the selection into his pocket. Later that night, when he passed her in the hall, Grissom handed over the paper on top of the latest lab report, and seeing it, Sara grinned.

“I see . . . so I’ll be by around seven on Friday night, Mr. Smith.”

“We’ll be expecting you . . . Suzie,” Grissom intoned softly.

*****

He picked out his wardrobe with care, wanting to project the right sort of man for this; it helped that he knew what Sara liked him in, and that most of it was right in his closet. Blue court suit, pale blue shirt, power tie. He added cologne—something he rarely wore—and his college ring, along with another gold one on his left hand.

Bruno eyed him distrustfully from his lounging position on the bed. Grissom looked over at the dog and whistled as he did up his tie. “Hey Bruno . . . I have to go on a trip, but the babysitter’s going to watch you for a few days.”

No reaction from the dog. Grissom tried again. “Sara.”

Instant tail wagging; Bruno pricked up his ears and leaped off the bed, heading to the front door.

Grissom felt like that himself, but he continued dressing, and when the doorbell rang, he gave himself a wink in the mirror.

She was there, standing shyly in the doorway, a backpack hanging off one shoulder, her hair in a ponytail. Grissom could smell her perfume; something with a strawberry scent to it. She looked up at him and Grissom noted lip-gloss on her smile. “Hey Mr. Smith.”

God he looked great, Sara thought. Grissom didn’t wear suits often, but when he did, he looked more authoritative than Ecklie ever could. The tie was one he’d gotten from his broker years back, and she could smell the soft scent of Aramis coming from him. She followed him in, and pretended to sniffle; Grissom looked at her. “Are you all right?”

“Sorry . . . I broke up with my boyfriend last week, and I’m still trying to get over him,” Sara told him huskily.

Grissom frowned. “The jerk? You’re too good for him, honey. Any guy who makes you do his calculus homework AND lend him gas money is an idiot.”

“I know . . . “ Sara sighed. “You’re right. He told me . . . “ And she hesitated, knowing Grissom well enough that he would pick up the cue and prompt her. He did.

“What did he say?”

“That I was . . . this is so embarrassing . . . . um, frigid.”

Grissom stopped in the front hallway and looked at Sara, his expression twisting slightly in the light. She knew he was fighting some inner amusement, but also trying to tread carefully, so she rubbed her nose and added, “I know, stupid, but he didn’t have to say it.”

“The kid is an idiot. Hon, you’re young, and probably not as . . . experienced as some of us who are older, but trust me, he’s blaming you for his own . . . fumbling.” Grissom commiserated gently.

“See, this is what I love about you, Mr. Smith—you know just what to say to make me feel better!” Sara blurted softly, setting her backpack down and standing awkwardly. “I know I can talk to you about anything and you understand. Have you heard yet from Mrs. Smith?"

Grissom smiled crookedly. “Hey, none of that ‘Mr. Smith' stuff—it’s Bill, remember?” He headed into the living room and whistled; Bruno came out and made a beeline to Sara, tail wagging happily. She slipped him a doggy treat and patted him gently.

“And yes, she sent the divorce papers yesterday,” he grumbled. “From Acapulco. I know I agreed to sign them, but not tonight.”

“Oh man . . . I’m sorry,” Sara murmured gently.

Grissom gave a deep sigh and looked around the apartment. “I’m not. Sure, she got the house in Henderson and the car and the casino investments, but I *still* have Bruno, and that’s what matters, right?”

At the mention of his name, Bruno padded over and snuffled Grissom’s knee; both Sara and Grissom patted him.

“Yeah. He’s a great dog, and I love keeping an eye on him. So you’re heading out tonight?”

“Chicago,” Grissom nodded. “Here, let me show you my itinerary and the instructions—“ He led her to the pad by the phone and pointed at the list of numbers. “I’ll be at the Hyatt, Room 2325, and of course you have my cell number. What do you want from the Windy City?”

Sara grinned. “You don’t have to do that!”

“I *want* to—you’re really good to Bruno, and you’ve listened to me gripe about this divorce for months now. Sometimes I think you’re taking as much care of me as you are of the dog . . . “ he finished slowly, and gave a hollow laugh.

Sara reached out and rubbed his arm gently. “You’re a good guy, Bill, and your wife is a bitch. I’m sorry, but it’s true—I’m still mad about all that shit she pulled on you and Bruno.”

Grissom turned, and Sara stepped in to hug him tightly, her grip around his ribs sweet, comforting, and something much more. He hugged her back, letting himself grow aroused at the press of her body against his. They should have let go . . . and didn’t.

“You’re so good to me, Suzie . . . “ he murmured heavily. Sara made a breathless little noise and slowly ground her hips against his.

“I . . . I l-l-like your aftershave,” came her little murmur as she shifted her face to his neck. The heat of her breath sent a wave of desire through Grissom and he felt himself swell in response. Sara *knew* how sensitive his neck was; clearly she was going to zero in on his erogenous zones tonight.

He decided to retaliate.

Gently, Grissom let his hands slip down her back and over the perky curve of Sara’s ass, so conveniently showcased in the snug denim and squeezed. A girlish yip sounded out over his shoulder and he grinned.

“Geez, sorry—I got carried away there. It won’t happen again, I swear!” He pulled back and looked in Sara’s face, striving hard for embarrassed sincerity. She was blinking, working on her own startled expression.

“I . . . I don’t mind,” she blurted. “Nobody’s ever . . . um, done that to me before.”

“You’re kidding,” Grissom managed with a straight face. “Not even the jerk?”

She shook her head quickly, her eyes wide. “No, he only liked it when I touched him . . . and in um, a different place.”

Grissom bit back a little moan and cleared his throat. “Then he was more than a jerk; he was an asshole to boot. You’re perfect—smart, sweet, and I know I’m being blunt here, but you’re beautiful too, Suzie. Believe me, you are one *hell* of an adorable package, and any idiot who can’t see that isn’t worth your time.”

Sara’s breathing quickened, and she launched herself at him in that lovely awkward way of a young girl; Grissom caught her and let her fumble to kiss him, the sweet taste of strawberry lip gloss giving their lips an extra slipperiness.

The hot little wriggling probe of Sara’s tongue against the seam of his mouth nearly made him moan again; nobody could kiss like Sara. She teased him into deepening the kiss, and suddenly the innocence of the moment ripened into desire between them, forbidden, tempting and hot. Grissom kissed her again, possessing her mouth hotly, indulging himself.

When they finally pulled apart, breathing hard, eyes wide, Sara spoke first, her voice husky. “That . . . that was good. I didn’t know kissing could . . . you know, *BE* like that . . . “

“Me either,” Grissom confessed, letting one hand cup her chin. “Sa-Suzie, listen to me. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t you *want* to kiss me again?” Sara asked softly, letting a hint of hurt come through as she slid her hands up his shirt to cup his neck. Under her palm she felt Grissom’s pulse pounding hard and fought a grin. He closed his eyes as she let her nails tickle his skin.

“God yes, of *course* I do!” he confessed. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for months, but I’m a married man and I’m much older than you are---“

“You’re about to be divorced, and I don’t care about your age. You are the only one who makes me feel good about who I am. I may only be eighteen, but I know you’re funny and smart and really, really sexy---“ Sara told him rapidly, pulling his face towards hers.

They kissed again, with just as much urgency and heat, both of them moaning a bit, tongues wetly sliding together. Grissom pulled Sara closer, turning with her until he had her against the refrigerator; she wrapped one leg around him to hold him against her and increase the friction. This was getting very good, and Sara suspected if they didn’t get to the sofa or the bed soon, someone was going to pop and quick.

She pulled away and looked at Grissom, who was dazed, his face flushed, eyes wide but unfocused. “You make me feel so good . . . God, I’ve never felt like this, *ever!*” Sara sighed.

“Me either,” he rasped gently. “And certainly not with my ex. I can’t believe how wonderful you taste, and that’s only your mouth—“

Sara wriggled, and took Grissom’s hand, pulling it to her thin tee shirt under her denim jacket. “You can kiss me . . . *other* places—but only if you let me do the same . . . “

Grissom locked gazes with her and sighed harshly. “Don’t tempt me, honey. Don’t look at me with those big chocolate eyes and say naughty things like that.”

She licked her lips and laughed sadly. “You’re just being nice—but I can’t help the way I feel, Bill. All tingly and hot and out of breath. I never felt like this before and it’s just soooooo, God, I can’t describe it. All I know is I want you so much!”

Grissom pulled her to him. “Screw the trip. Come here—“

It didn’t take long to begin to peeling out of their clothes as they kissed their way to the bedroom. Sara loved the urgency of Grissom’s hands and mouth over her, and the dim lighting. She nearly tripped over the suitcase in front of the door, but he spun with her to the bed, bouncing them together in a laughing heap.

Every time Grissom tried to talk, Sara kissed him, and moved to take something off. His jacket was the first item to go, followed by his tie and shoes. Sara went after his neck with all the dedication of a vampire, and was pretty sure tomorrow Grissom would be wearing at least one hickey, possibly two. From the feel of it, she would as well as they continued to make out on the bed.

Grissom’s hands were warm and they were *everywhere* she noted, squirming with pleasure. By the time he’d gotten her shirt off and was about to slide his palm down into her unzipped jeans, Sara was on hypersensitive overload. When his fingers slid through her curls, she shuddered, not bothering to muffle her low cry of pleasure.

He was so damned good at getting her off with just the tiniest, lightest of touches; those loving fingers knowing just the right pressure, just the right speed---

“Ohhhh-----“ Sara groaned, rocking her hips up against his hand, her own fingers reaching for his bulging fly. Grissom gentled his touch, his fingers sliding through the slickness between her thighs. His hot breath gusted against the side of her neck, and when he shifted to look at her in the dim light, Sara nearly laughed at his lustful expression. She let the last lovely shivers roll through her body and whispered, "Oh Mr. Jones, your hand in my panties feels so goooodd--"


"Fuck," Grissom whispered back in a growl. Sara loved it when he cursed because it took a LOT to get him to the four letter word stage. He had to be either extremely pissed or rock hard, and at the moment, she knew exactly which he was. Carefully, she sat up and began to pull at his zipper. This was difficult to do, given how taut the fabric was. Sara grinned, working carefully.

“I can make you feel good too—oh . . . “ Sara purred, and worked his fly open, slipping her hand inside. He was NOT commando, and that startled her, but Sara recovered and worked her fingers through the flap of the briefs to touch the hot, damp thickness of his shaft. It throbbed against her fingers impatiently.

Grissom shifted to his side, moving his hand against hers. “Please baby, I NEED it—“ he groaned, mouth against hers. Sara lifted a leg over his, and slowly worked her hand along Grissom’s cock, her grip sliding gently. He grunted, and wrapped his fingers around hers, making her grip him more tightly. “Harder, yeah—“

Sara stroked, pumping her fingers, feeling the heavy veins and the heat along the silky skin. Grissom pressed his open mouth against hers and she sucked his tongue lewdly, feeling a fresh wave of desire well up. She rocked against Grissom, finding a rhythm that made him thrust harder into hand, and for long moments the bed creaked. Finally he reached for her hip, gripping it hard as he came, the heated spurts thick along her fingers and the bedspread.

He groaned into her mouth, and Sara held onto his shaft, feeling the last few pulses as she laughed softly. Grissom broke the kiss and collapsed. "God. That was the handjob of the century."

"The century?" Sara laughed and leaned over him, discreetly wiping her fingers on the spread.


Grissom nodded, eyes closed, his smile sweet. "Give me a few hours, Suzie, and we'll get to your virginity."

"Oh I'd like that, Mr. Jones---after all, it's not a school night."

*****
*****
*****

Sara broke into a wide grin when she opened her locker door two weeks later and found the jar sitting on the shelf like it had always been there. Turnabout was fair play...she supposed it was her turn to get horny at the lab.

He'd scribbled his thought down on a piece of college ruled notebook paper, never one to overlook the importance of details. She took it into the bathroom to read, having a sneaking suspicion she'd need to be alone. And she was right.

The required costume might present a challenge, but from the way her thighs trembled just reading the scrap of paper, it would be well worth the effort of locating everything she'd need. He promised to take care of the rest...all she had to do was show up in the outfit with a single prop.

It turned out to be easier than she'd imagined. They did live in Vegas, after all...costumes weren't seasonal. She found the perfect one after only three stops. After trying it on and discovering that it fit like it was designed for her, Sara stared at herself in the dressing room mirror for a long time.

She might have been a science nerd in high school, but even the proudest geek girl had a secret daydream about this. A closely guarded "what if...?" that maybe she never admitted to another living soul. But it was always there, in the very back of her mind.

This would start out at his fantasy, but it might just end up fulfilling one of her own.

On her way home from work on Friday morning, Sara stopped at a gas station a few blocks away from the townhouse to change out of her work clothes. If the clerk was at all surprised that a regularly-dressed woman went into the bathroom and a cheerleader came out, he didn't show it.

She pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, and took a second to smooth her hair back into a ponytail. As soon as she climbed out of the car, she noticed Mrs. Glickman across the street, watering her precious flowerboxes. The older woman took one look at her outfit....red skirt that barely covered her butt, V-necked sleeveless top with a large H on the front, sneakers...and pursed her lips disapprovingly.

"Costume party," Sara called out to their neighbor. "Have a nice day, Mrs. Glickman."

Trying very hard not to laugh, Sara grabbed her prop from the front seat, the chemistry textbook she'd held onto since college, and started for the front door. She rang the doorbell twice and waited.

When he answered the door, she very nearly burst out laughing.

Thick-framed glasses. Ugly plaid shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck. Pocket protector. Grissom had turned himself into the uber-geek.

"Hi, Sara." He said it nervously, like he'd been practicing his opening line in a mirror for hours. At the same time, he patted the top of his head, trying to smooth down his hair. "Come in."

She stepped inside with all the confidence of the most popular girl in school. "Thanks. Sorry to come over in my uniform. I just came from the game."

"Oh, it's okay. It's nice. I mean...you know...it's cheerful." He laughed at his own joke, and she couldn't keep from smiling. "So..." Grissom cleared his throat, clearly trying to sound nonchalant. "How was the test?"

Sara held up the chemistry text with a big smile. "I passed."

His smile was huge and endearing. "That's great, Sara! I knew you would."

"I wouldn't have without your help." He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "I really appreciate it, Gilbert. If I hadn't passed the test, I might not have been able to cheer at the game tonight. And that would have totally sucked."

"Totally," he agreed. The word didn't exactly roll off his tongue. Again, she nearly began to laugh. "Stoichiometry is actually really easy once you get the hang of it. Of course, it helps if you memorize the periodic table."

"Which I wouldn't have if not for you."

He was really trying not to stare at her breasts, so amply displayed with the low cut, form-fitting top, but when he spoke, he didn't meet her eyes. "It's just easier to break the table up into...um...rows. And columns. When you know where they're supposed to be...you can visualize them better." She adjusted her stance to push her chest out slightly. He swallowed. "Then it's just a matter of...you know...associating a number with each...each..."

"Element?" she supplied. "Well...I managed to squeak by this time. But I'm still not sure about some of them. And there's another test coming up...so if you wouldn't mind..."

Grissom shrugged shyly. "I don't have anything else to do tonight."

Sara took another step closer to him. "Really? On a Friday night? No plans? No...girlfriend?"

He shook his head. "I get a lot of studying done."

"You know what they say about all work and no play, Gil." She reached out and tugged at the top button of his shirt. "Can I call you 'Gil'?"

"No one's ever..." He blinked as she freed the first button and started on the second. "Sure...yeah. Gil's okay."

"Even before Mrs. Smith paired us up for tutoring...I'd seen you in the hallways," she murmured. "And I wanted to talk to you, but you always had your nose in a book."

"I like books."

Sara stopped at the third button. "I like books, too. I get good grades, you know. Well...except for Chemistry." She slipped her fingers under the cotton. His skin felt warmer than usual, like the fantasy was heating his blood. "You don't think I'm a dumb cheerleader...do you?"

"No!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide. "You're not dumb! You're..." He looked away. "You're amazing."

"You think I'm amazing?" He lifted one shoulder. "Then why haven't you tried to kiss me yet?"

Grissom blinked. "I didn't think...I mean, that's not why I tutored you. You don't have to repay me for any..."

Grabbing his chin, Sara guided his lips to hers for a slow, sweet kiss. He didn't move, like if he did, she might stop. "This isn't payment," she said a few seconds later. He had a dazed look on his face that made her smile coyly. "I like you. When you look at me, I feel like you're seeing more than just this uniform. Most guys don't care about my mind, but you do. If I passed or failed...it mattered to you. And not just because if I didn't, I wouldn't be out on the field, jumping around in my little skirt."

"I think...there isn't anything you can't do," Grissom said adoringly.

"Maybe one thing." Her hand drifted up to touch his freshly-shaven cheek. "I can't seem to get you to kiss me back."

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, wetting it to delicious perfection. "I'm just finding it hard to believe that you want me to."

"When I look at you, I see more than the glasses." She pulled them off, folded them up and set them aside. "So...would you kiss me already?"

Still, he stalled, and she was beginning to wonder who was seducing who in this game. "I don't know if I'll be any good at it. I haven't really studied the logistics of..."

"It's a kiss, Gil. Don't overthink it." Sara brushed her mouth across his, pausing just long enough to run her tongue along the slick inside of his lip. "Just let it happen."

He touched her first, cupping her waist between his hands. The top of her uniform didn't quite meet the band of her skirt, and his fingers danced along the exposed skin of her lower back. When he finally, finally kissed her, Sara couldn't stop herself from wrapping her arms around his neck.

His mouth was carnal, hungry, like he'd been waiting eighteen years for this moment. The more they kissed, the bolder he became. She felt his hands slip down her skirt, cupping her butt over the pleated fabric.

Sara drew back with a chuckle. "You're a fast learner."

"That's what all the teachers say." She laughed and he quickly stammered, "In class. Just in class!"

She kissed him again and pressed her body against his. He was hard, and it was time to take things to the next level. Sara turned around, presenting her back to him. "Unzip me."

Grissom fumbled with the tiny zipper. When he'd lowered it as far as it would go, he leaned forward, burying his nose in her ponytail. She let him stay like that for a second before she faced him again. She pulled the top over her head, leaving her in a plain white bra.

"Wow..." He stared at her in reverent silence. "Can I...can I touch you?"

Sara answered him by taking his hand and bringing it up to the swell of her breast. His eyes closed. "Soft," he murmured. "You're perfect."

He opened his eyes again when she reached behind and unhooked the bra. She inched the straps down her arms until his hand was the only thing keeping the garment in place. "Are you sure you want to do this with me?" she asked.

"I think the question is...do you want to do this with me?"

The bra fell to the ground and she was left in just her cheerleading skirt. She walked to the couch, stepping out of her sneakers as she went. "Just promise me your parents are gone for the night." She winked at him over her shoulder.

"Oh, they're gone," he eagerly assured her.

Sara spun around and sat down, making her skirt flare out, and offering him a tempting glimpse of more white cotton. The leather couch was cool against her bare back; her nipples tightened into rock hard points. She started to undo her ponytail, but he stopped her.

"Leave it." His voice was hoarse. "Please."

She crooked a finger at him instead. "Come here."

He moved forward like a sailor towards a Siren, and once he was within reach, Sara grabbed his belt buckle. He looked down at her in amazement as she worked. When she had him unzipped, and the obscene tent in his shorts was pointing straight at her, she glanced up with a wicked smile.

"Let me know."

"Let you know what?"

"Just...let me know." With that, she tugged down the elastic band of his boxers until his heavy cock sprang free. He drew in a sharp breath when she wrapped her hand around him and leaned over to take him into her mouth. "Oh god..." he groaned as her tongue danced across the velvety head. "Sara...that feels...incredible."

She lazily pumped her fist up and down his shaft. "Shh...just relax."

But he didn't. Couldn't. His fingers found their way into her hair and gently guided her up and down. She glanced up occasionally to see the look of bliss on his face. The center of her own body was warm and wet, but she wanted to bring him right to the edge.

He arrived a few minutes later, his hips jerking, searching for release. "Sara...honey..."

She pulled back, wiping the corner of her lip. "Honey?" she repeated in character. "I like that. You know..." She gave him another, slower stroke. "You're the first guy I've ever wanted to go down on."

Grissom's chest rose and fell. "Really?"

Sara stood up and kissed him, their tongues wrestling wetly for a long minute. She was looking straight in his eyes when she whispered, "For real."

As their mouths met again, Sara stripped his shirt off and flung it away. He kicked off his pants at the same time he reached under her skirt.

"That's right," she moaned as he hooked a finger around the damp crotch. "Pull them off..."

Her panties joined his shirt and pants, and he cupped her whole cleft in his hand. The only sound in the house was the sticky squelch of his long digits moving in and out of her, and the occasional gasp of pleasure that they elicited from Sara.

"Are you sure...you haven't done this...before?" she panted.

"Basic biology," he replied before briefly drawing her left nipple between his lips. "I told you...I study a lot." Grissom laved his tongue over the taut bead of flesh lovingly. "I'm doing it right?"

Sara's head lolled back. "Fuck...yeah. Yeah...don't stop, Gil." He pulled his fingers out of her body and her eyes flew open. "You stopped."

Grissom licked his finger. "You taste sweet, Sara." He smiled shyly. Or slyly...it was hard to tell. "I really want to make love with you."

"Sit down on the couch," she whispered. He obliged, like a good boy. Sara unzipped her skirt and let it puddle around her feet, leaving her completely naked to his appreciative eye. Planting one knee on either side of him, Sara grasped his cock again and rubbed the very tip of him back and forth, up and down her slick slit.

"Sara..." he fairly begged.

She kissed him as she sank down onto his length, biting into his lower lip as she stretched to accommodate him. She sat still on his lap for a few seconds; his hands gently caressed her back.

"God," he finally murmured, resting his cheek against her breast. "This is..."

Sara rocked her hips slowly. "This is...what?"

"So much better than studying."

Neither of them lasted long, but it was a hell of a ride that left them in a heap of sweaty limbs on the couch, each panting for breath. Sara recovered first, although she had absolutely no intention of getting up. Grissom's chest was way too comfortable, and she probably couldn't have walked straight if she wanted to. So she just lay there, loving the feeling of him still inside her, occasionally pressing a soft kiss against his shoulder.

"Hell of a fantasy, baby," she finally said. "First time I've ever worn a cheerleading uniform." He made a noise of approval, and she angled her head back to look at him. "Is that what you were re-imagining tonight? Your first time?"

"Every time with you is like the first time, Sara."

"What...awkward?" She rubbed her slick inner thigh against his. "Unexpectedly messy?"

Grissom stroked her ponytail lovingly. "No. Memorable."

*****

To Be Continued