TITLE: Tease

AUTHOR: Gomey (grissomsgnomeyahoo.com)

ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just let me know so I can brag..hehe.

SPOILERS: None

RATING: Very Strong R

DISCLAIMER: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.

SUMMARY: When the betting's good, the good get betting...

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CHAPTER ONE

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She ran through the forest, hearing two sets of breaths behind her. Her lungs burned from her screams, and her ears tried desperately to block out the footsteps gaining. They were close.

They were too close.

Predictability slapped her in the face as her foot caught in a looped-root, and she tasted dirt as she plunged head-first into the darkened soil.

And then everything stopped. Trees held their breaths and nature's critters spoke in hush tones, waiting for the next judgement.

"No..." The tears choked her words as she tried to push herself up.

Excruciatingly, the trees exhaled only to mask her last demand for help.
"Oh mama!"

Gil Grissom checked his watch as he made his way into the break room. "Ten minutes." He informed the lab tech, who was currently ogling the models in the Sports Illustrated magazine.

"Swimsuit edition, Grissom." Greg Sanders grinned cheekily, wiggling his eyebrows at his supervisor. "Check out this one!" The spikey-haired eccentric hopped off the couch and made his way to Gil.

Gil grimaced. "Greg..." He began to protest, but was interrupted by the rest of the team filing into the room.

"Hey, what do you have there, Greggy?" Catherine Willows asked, looking over his shoulder.

"I was showing Grissom this brown-haired beauty." He stated, almost with a childish pride.

Catherine raised her eyebrow, eyeing her partner. "I don't think brunettes are Grissom's cup of tea." She stated surely.

Gil cocked his head to the side, neither confirming nor denying the strawberry-blond's thoughts.

Sara Sidle stepped in. "Well, what about Lady Heather?" She glanced at Gil. "I mean, word was that Grissom was really taken with her, and she was a brunette."

The rest of the members exchanged glances before Catherine spoke up. "I think she was more of a specimen." She met his eyes. "I think she intrigued him." The two senior CSIs held each other's gaze.

Sara leaned against the counter, beside her supervisor, breaking the spell that he and Catherine were under. "Oh, and you think you know what kind of women Grissom likes?" The brunette asked the strawberry-blond, ever boldly.

Catherine broke out into a slow smile. She opened her mouth, revelation on the tip of her tongue, then closed it. Sending a special wink over to Gil's direction, she plopped down on the couch.

"Grissom, seriously, look at this one!" Greg hissed, obviously aroused by the women exposing themselves.

"Greg...I think you need a better hobby." Gil patted him amicably on the back and headed towards his office.

"Maaan, that guy must be a robot." Nick Stokes looked up from the magazine that Greg had been flaunting. "Seriously, I bet nothing turns that guy on!" He stated, though it was more of a pout.

"I'm sure the mating rituals of the Tumbu fly probably get Grissom off." Warrick Brown walked in to the break room, heading straight for the coffee.

Catherine chuckled. "Oh, Grissom gets aroused ... he just hides it," she observed their looks of disbelief, "really, really well."

Nick glanced at her, challenge sparkling in his eyes. "Yeah? Prove it. If you can turn Grissom on, then I'll ..." He scrunched up his face, trying to think of a good deal. "Oh, I'll do your paper work for a week."

"Okay..." Catherine eyed the younger CSI suspiciously. "And if I lose?"

"You uh...you introduce me to one of your old friends, down at the French Palace." Nick flashed her a shy smile.

"Better rephrase that Nick - knowing Catherine, she probably -will- set you up with one of her OLD friends." Warrick added, slightly amused by the amateur bets being placed.

Catherine laughed then peeked over Greg's shoulder, who had moved back to the couch, and continued flipping through the magazine. "Is that the gal you showed Grissom?" Catherine leaned over more. "Oh, she is hot. Makes me want to bat for the other team." Catherine jested, while heading out the door.

"Ooh, don't go breakin' my heart, Catherine." Greg feigned pain.
She had lost count of how many days she had been here. Her chest ached, and she tried to move her body - feeling jolts of pain coursing through. Her arms lazily pulled against her restraints, feeling the coarse rope slice through her skin. A cold gust of wind caused her attention downwards, and exposure presented its ugly face. "Please, help me!" Her voice scratched against her dry, cracked throat. She felt weak, and her eyes gave into slumber's temptation. "Please..."
It had been a week since bets were made, and Catherine was still planning her strategy much to Nick's dismay. "You're taking forever - I'd like a date while I'm still able to perform." The Texan whined.

"What makes you so sure that you're going to win, Nicky?" Catherine asked, eyeing her subject heading to his office.

"You're move." He drawled.

"Fine, I'll go check my mate." Catherine rolled her eyes, and sauntered towards the docile man. "Hey Gil." She greeted him enthusiastically.

Gil eyed her curiously. "Catherine." He opened his door and waited for her to enter. "What can I help you with?" He asked, settling behind his desk and sifting through some week-old case reviews.

Catherine shrugged, walking over to his side of the desk. She seated herself on top, crossing her bare legs in front of him. She watched, a sly grin on her face as his eyes drank in the creamy smoothness of her womanly prowess. "Well, we haven't been able to chat recently."

Gil blinked a couple of times before averting his gaze to the files in front of him. "Chat." He repeated, unsure of his voice. The image of her legs, begging to be caressed, was still burned in his psyche. He took a deep breath, and when his voice was sure, he spoke again. "And what would you like to chat about...here," he glanced up at her, "on my desk." And his eyes sought out her toned legs again, unabashedly memorizing her curves.

"Grissom."

Two sets of eyes settled on the man standing at the door. They both waited for Jim Brass to speak but instead he just motioned them to follow, with an indignant nod.

Gil and Catherine exchanged concerned looks before Catherine slid off his desk and headed to meet up with the captain.

Gil cocked his head to the side, his being taking in the sway of her hips -

"- Gil?"

His eyes jumped to hers, wide and caught.

"You coming?" Her pearly whites made no effort to hide as she exited his office.

Gil glanced down, noting the beginnings of a bulge in his pants. "...almost." He muttered gruffly before following the strawberry-blond's lead.
How long had she been here? Hands would touch her, breaking slumber's grasp, but weakness prevented her from reacting.

Beaten...only to be cared for.

Dehydrated....only to be drowned in water.

Fasted...only to be filled with food.

Kept alive...only to be killed again.
Gil stepped into the break room, taking a place behind Catherine. He always felt more confident around her, and just drew strength from her energy.

"Okay, I need the whole team on this one. Remember seven years back, there was this murder that took place in the Hurnboldt-Toiyable National Forest?"

"Yeah." Gil sighed. "Unsolved. The evidence collected just didn't make sense - we didn't even have a suspect." He added.

"Well, there's another one."

"What...serial killer?" Catherine asked.

Jim shrugged. "I don't know - there was enough details that leaked to the press to spawn a copycat, but other than that, we have a crime scene to investigate." He handed the supervisor a file. "I'll meet you there, ASAP."

Gil watched the captain leave and leafed through the information provided. "Blood splatter...so Catherine you're with me." He continued reading. "Sara you're with us."

Catherine grimaced, cursing her supervisor's decision to bring the bold CSI. Sure, she was an asset to the team, but she wasn't in the mood to have the cupid-struck brunette hovering around Gil like a love-sick mosquito. She watched them file out, and then glanced at the remaining two CSIs. "What do you guys have?"

"480, hit-and-run." Warrick grumbled at his obvious loss of a high-profile case.

"Nicky?" She smiled, noting his pout.

"Grissom has me pushing paper." He folded his arms across his chest, waiting for the mockeries to begin.

A slow smile graced her beauty. "Well, practice makes perfect, huh Nicky?"

—TBC—