DATE: July 2007
TITLE: Quotable Contingency
AUTHOR: losingntrnslatn
(Jennifer, LosingInTranslation)
DISCLAIMER: Don’t own anything associated with the show… I just like
playing with the characters in it from time to time. Dance Monkeys! Dance!
RATING: T – For Teen (for mature subject matter)
PAIRINGS: GSR
SPOILERS: Season 7 (Sometime Pre-LD)
SUMMARY: Geek Fiction Summer Reading Fic-A-Thon
(Prompt = Oscar Wilde). Gil and Sara have a little fun with their secret
relationship.
A/N:
Had great ideas for this one right out of the
gate, but between being busy, stressing over getting the new car, and all the
other writing I had on my plate, it became something of a chore to finish this
one. Also, I originally intended there to be smut, but the Smut Muse was harder
to motivate than I was this time… Sorry.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: My main beta’s are
fantastic! First, there is the unstoppable Speedy GonBETAles,
who can zip through anything and have it back to my insanely impatient, twisted
little mind in the blink of an eye. Then there is the source of all my FanFic (especially the smut), who I affectionately refer to
as SmutBETA. She’s the one that pestered me into
writing this stuff in the first place. And lastly, there is my Guerilla Beta,
who swoops in to save the day when I can’t get satisfaction from the other two.
Her insights and skills have rescued many a story from oblivion. If they say a
writer is only as good as their editor…then a great deal of the praise belongs
to these fine ladies.
REVIEWS: Reviews are the way I know if people are enjoying the
work or not. So, if you leave one, THANKS! And if not, I hope you found at
least a little something to brighten your day, and thanks for taking the time
to read.
Quotable
Contingency
It had
been a quiet scene. Everyone was busy documenting the counterfeit bills that
were scattered all over the warehouse after SWAT had blown the doors off of
what they thought would be a simple drug bust. They were all just going through
the motions until the Feds finally showed up to take over the case.
Brass was
busy with the rest of the detectives getting all of the suspects packaged up
and sent down to the
She could
feel his eyes following her path, so she knew that he was watching her again.
She also realized that he was perfectly aware of her position in the game.
There was nothing she hated more than losing, even if the loss was not exactly
a bad thing for her in the end. She simply hated to lose, especially since she
was the one who had made the choice this time.
Greg
looked up from the stack of bills that he was cataloguing and smiled at her.
“Hey, Sara… Can you believe I was complaining about not having enough to do
tonight?”
She was
completely unable to suppress the smile that spread over her face. Greg had
just given her the perfect opening. “Well, ya know,
Greg, ‘when the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.’”
“No
Kidding!”
Just as
Sara was closing up the evidence bag, she turned to see if Grissom had heard her
when she saw him talking to several men in very nice, but very plain suits. She
looked down at her watch and smirked. It looked like the Secret Service showed
up in just enough time to get them all out by the end of the shift. And she was
one up today, so that meant she would be doing the collecting on the bet.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Normally,
he was not a betting man, but in this instance there simply was no down side to
this particular wager. Win or lose, he was certainly reaping the benefits of
the game. Besides, it presented him with a unique opportunity in which to
exercise some of his more obscure knowledge.
However,
as he and Warrick worked the accident scene together, he had drawn a complete
blank on anything he could apply to the situation without the man catching on.
And to make matters worse, Sara was busy taking the perimeter shots of the
scene and watching him like a hawk. While he was certainly enjoying himself, he
would like to get the upper hand in the game at least once. The problem was
that everyone seemed to know when he was quoting someone.
He
supposed that he should not have been so surprised, since he was quite well
known for being a man of quotations, but he had been absolutely certain each
time that the particular quote being used was obscure enough to pass without
notice. He had been wrong, each time.
It also
did not help that he thought he had finally gotten one over on Sara when she
failed to get her quote in for the day as they waited for the Feds to take over
their counterfeit case. When she pulled it out in the very last minute he was a
little disappointed, because by that point, he was already planning out how she
was going to payoff the bet. Although, he did have to admit her little
experiment with the tub was a rousing success. Or was that an arousing success?
Warrick
had been talking all throughout his little trip down memory lane, but when the
man mentioned their ever present lab director, he finally managed to get his
attention.
“I just don’t
know how you can do it, Gris.” Warrick shook his head in frustration as he
explained, “The guy’s a complete kiss-ass who couldn’t find his way through a
low end B&E with a flashlight and a confession. He managed to weasel his way into the AD slot
by kissin’ the right ass and suckin’
up to whoever was willin’, splits up our team, screws
with everybody’s careers for a freakin’ year, nearly
fires Sara, hangs Cath out to dry and leaves her
swinging to save his own ass after Nick gets nabbed, totally sells out Sanders,
louses up shifts, and you still put up with him like you do… I just don’t get
it.”
Grissom
shrugged his shoulders and bagged another piece of evidence. “I suppose it’s a
matter of the evil you know, being better than the one you don’t.”
“That
can’t be it. I mean, I know you don’t want the director’s job, but how you can
smile and nod at that guy when you know for a fact that he’s gunnin’ for you at every turn. How can you do that?”
Warrick sealed up another full box of evidence as he finished his question.
Looking
over to make sure a certain someone was still listening,
Grissom knew he had finally found the perfect, completely obscure quote to slip
into the conversation. He also knew that Sara would instantly recognize it,
since it was one of her favorites, as of late. “Well, Warrick, I’ve learned
that one should ‘always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much.’”
Warrick
laughed and nodded his head as he lifted the box up. “I’m starting to think
you’ve been workin’ too many cases with Sara, Boss.”
Grissom instantly froze with the non-chalant comment.
“She’s been using that line for a while.” He clapped the older man on the
shoulder as he passed and added, “And I’m still not buyin’
it, Mr. Wilde.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“I don’t
care… I still think you set me up.”
Sara
threw her arms into the air and stalked into the kitchen. “How the hell could I
have set you up? You’re the one who came up with this damn game in the first
place!”
Still pouting
just a little, he answered, “Yes, but you picked the author.”
She
instantly shot back with, “This week! Last week you didn’t hear me complaining
when you picked Ayn Rand. I mean really, Gil, do you
have any idea how hard it is to get THAT kind of stuff into a casual
conversation without being noticed?!”
“I don’t
know…you seemed to do just fine to me.” He walked into the kitchen and stood
behind her before dropping his hands onto her tense shoulders. “And I nearly
swallowed my own tongue when you quoted that line about promiscuity.”
Her
shoulders relaxed a little when he softly rubbed into her tense muscles. “I
even surprised myself with that one. But the look on Catherine’s face was worth
sounding like a puritanical dork.”
He
chuckled at the memory and deepened his attempt to ease her tension with his
strong hands. “Catherine? I thought Nick’s spit take was far more entertaining.
I nearly laughed out loud.”
“That
would’ve killed the game for sure!” Sara finally laughed at the memory and they
both relaxed into their normal routine.
Once the
breakfast dishes were safely in the dishwasher, the leftovers carefully put
away in the fridge, and the counters perfectly sanitized they were able to
retire to the couch for some reading time.
Grissom
decided that he needed to bone up on his knowledge of the works of Oscar Wilde,
so he chose to re-read the play “The Ballad of Reading Gaol.”
It was written during Wilde’s imprisonment there for violating the decency laws
in the
Sara,
secure in her knowledge of the man’s works, chose to do a little leisure
reading. The book in question had just arrived in the mail the day before.
A friend
of hers from
Werewolves,
late night talk shows and vampire hunters; if anyone from work ever saw her
with the book they never would have believed it. At first Grissom thought she
had lost her mind, but after listening to her chuckle her way through the first
book, he became intrigued. After that, whenever she came across what he
referred to as “the good parts,” she would read them aloud, to allow him the
chance to enjoy it as well. She also had to admit, it was fun to be able to
share their reading experiences together. Couch time quickly became her
favorite part of their daily routine.
When she
looked up and saw that Grissom was rubbing his eyes as he fought to stay awake,
she set her book down and asked, “So, in the name of fairness and keeping the
peace… I’ll declare today a draw.”
Grissom
set his book down as well and smirked when he pulled off his glasses and looked
at her. “That’s very generous of you.” He raised his eyebrow and questioned her
motives. “So, what’s the catch?”
“No
catch… Besides, I’m totally beat, and you look like you could use a day off,
too.” He waited for the requisite amount of time before she finally revealed
her true intent. “But…since this one is a push, that means we have to use Wilde
for an extra shift.”
He threw
his head back into the wall above the sofa back and grimaced. “I knew there was a catch in there.”
She got up
from the couch, leaving her book on the coffee table before turning to put her
hands out for him. “Oh, quit complaining and come to bed with me.”
He left
his book on the cushion and took her hands before he made his display of
reluctantly rising from the sofa. “If I have to.”
Sara
shook her head and smiled. “You have to… You’re gonna
need the rest for what I have planned after shift tomorrow…when I win the bet
again.” The waggle of her eyebrow was always an endearing gesture to him. It
was such an un-Sara-like thing to do, and she saved it
for their time alone. She used to share those looks with the others in her
comical way of flirting, but she no longer felt a need to use that method of
hiding her unease. Instead, she saved them for those comfortable moments at
home, when it was just them, and she wanted him to smile at her. He was only
too happy to oblige.
“You are
awfully certain of yourself, Sidle.” The corner of his mouth turned up and his
eyes began to dance to the music of her gentle laughter. “I may just have to
spoil your plans, with one of my own.”
She
shifted her jaw from side to side and fought to restrain her smile through
pursed lips. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
As they
slept, wrapped in each other’s arms, he had many dreams that he wished to use
in the event that he won the bet the next day. But there was one question that
kept infiltrating his dreams; what is she
planning this time?
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
It was
one of those cases that stole the chatter from each member of their team. The
scene was gruesome, and the inclusion of the children was a difficult pill to
swallow. By the time everyone had finished up and gotten back to the lab,
Grissom was drained from the whole experience. It was one hell of a way to end
his week.
As he
tried to make his way through the evidence log, he exhaled sharply and reached
up to pinch the bridge of his nose after removing his glasses. No matter how
much he worked to remove his emotions from his cases, whenever a child was the
subject, he found it very difficult. And going through the pictures cataloguing
the fatal injuries of the children in this case was enough to destroy any
pretense he had at being objective.
He got up
from his chair and went out in search of fresh coffee and a living human
connection. His destination: the break room, and Sara. Upon entering the break
room, he got a little more than he was intending.
There on
the sofa was Sara, with her arms around Greg’s shoulders as he silently shook
from his sobs. Grissom could tell at the scene that his youngest CSI was taking
the whole thing badly, but he never imagined entirely how bad.
Sara
instantly recognized his presence in the room, but she only gave him a shy look
as she continued to hold the overwrought young man in her arms as he quietly
made his way to the coffee maker. While he wanted to respect Greg’s privacy, as
his supervisor, he felt a certain responsibility to the man.
Without
even realizing that he was in the room, Greg’s next words were just what he
needed to offer his support.
“It
doesn’t make any sense, Sara. This guy, he only did, what, eighteen months for
that DUI accident? But he gets out of
jail, comes home to his family and then kills them all, plus himself inside of two
weeks of his release… How does something like that happen?”
Before
Grissom could speak, Sara handed Greg a tissue and calmly stated, “Greg, I
can’t make sense of any of this stuff, and honestly, I’ve stopped trying,
because it only ties me up in knots.” She smoothed the hair out of his eyes
when he turned to look at her with such a profound sadness. “I just try to make
sure that the right people are held accountable for the crimes we have to
investigate, and I try to hold on to that part of me that can’t understand why
a person does these things, because that’s what keeps me sane and human.”
He wanted
to reach out to Sara and wrap her up in his arms as she explained her own
method for coping with the more difficult cases. Grissom always knew that Sara had
found a balance for dealing with the strains of their profession, but he never
felt the need to ask her how she had come by this resolution. Now that he knew,
it made him love her all the more.
His
presence was suddenly recognized by Greg when he turned and found Grissom
standing at the coffee pot. “Grissom, I-I-I didn’t know you w-were-…” Greg
stumbled over the words as he tried to collect himself in the face of his
supervisor.
“You’re
fine, Greg… I just came in here to try and clear some of those images out of my
own head. You are well within your rights to have been disturbed by this case.”
He moved toward one of the chairs at the end of the table nearest the couch.
“I guess
I just can’t understand how this guy could go from being a stupid businessman
with a taste for bourbon and some really bad judgment, to a man capable of
brutally murdering his entire family over the weekend and then blowing his own
brains out.”
Grissom
set his coffee mug down and exhaled sharply. He was not entirely certain that
he understood himself, but he knew all too well that prison never fixed
anything in the long run. More often than not, instead of curing them of their
criminal tendencies, the man or woman released had merely received an education
in becoming a more dangerous criminal.
“Greg,
our system is not perfect, by any means, and unfortunately it has a serious
flaw in the short-term detention and release of minimal offenders. The penal
system has a long history of doing a far better job of training criminals, instead
of rehabilitating them, as they have been charged with doing.” Grissom made
sure that he had Greg’s eye contact when he sealed the lesson with a quote.
“‘Vile deeds like poison weeds bloom well in prison air, it is only what is
good in man, that wastes and withers there.’”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Upon
finally arriving home, Grissom was desperate for something other than the foul,
coppery stench of bloody death, and the stark, harsh light of truth in the act
of murder. He craved warmth and tenderness, and the calm, cool quiet of home.
The
moment he entered the house from the garage, his senses were overcome with the
aroma of melted cheeses, tomatoes and pungent spices. He sighed as the scent
filled his nostrils. There was something about Sara’s grilled cheese and
tomato-basil soup lunches that always made him feel right with the world again,
and gave him an unbelievable sense of being loved.
He
dropped his files and keys down on the entry table, and hung his jacket up in
the closet before making his way to the kitchen. That was where he found her,
leaning casually over the soup pot, testing its progress. As the spoon reached
her lips, she carefully blew over the surface before taking the spicy liquid
into her waiting mouth. The moment her eyes opened wide with approval, she
noticed him standing in the dining room.
“Oh good,
you made it home.” She placed the spoon on a holder beside the stove and then
looked at her wrist watch. “I was beginning to think I’d have to send out the
National Guard to get you here.”
As he
walked towards her, he smirked and said, “I would hope you that you would have
tried the phone first.”
She
looked away and took one of the sandwiches from her plate to transfer to
another one when she stated, “And when your phone has been turned off…”
He
quickly checked the device hooked to the belt around his waist, only to
discover that it was indeed turned off. Grissom searched his mind for the
reason that caused him to switch off the phone and then he remembered the
incessant calls from an obnoxious reporter, which led to the silencing the
offending item. “Right…. My apologies.” He blushed
slightly as her gaze met his again. “I was avoiding a reporter, not you.”
She
pointed to a small stack of pink papers on the counter and nodded, “I kind of
figured that one out already.”
The
frustrated sigh that escaped him as he flipped through the answering machine
messages spoke volumes about his annoyance. “It would appear that there is a
need to change my numbers…again.”
Sara
nodded at the messages in his hand once more. “Last one is the new home number…
You’ll have to get that to personnel yourself and then have admin change your
cell.”
He
dropped the messages back onto the counter and walked around to stand behind
her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he nuzzled into her neck as she ladled
the soup into two bowls. “Your efficiency and caring continue to astound me.”
“Caring nothin’… Do you know hard it is to sleep when the phone
won’t stop ringing?” His comfortable laughter against her neck was a delight
for him and for her, as he gently rocked them both in the act.
“Yes,
well…I’ll be sure to turn in the changed numbers directly to personnel this
time. I think that assistant of Ecklie’s is the one
giving out information to the press.” He dipped a finger into the soup and
tried to sneak a quick taste of it when she grabbed his wrist and halted his
progress. Instead of allowing him to continue with his taste, she brought his
hand to her face and took his finger into her mouth for her own taste as she
rolled her tongue around the digit.
“Mmmmm… Not bad.” She bumped him back with her rear and took
hold of the plates with the bowls sitting on top. “Now go sit down, so we can
eat.”
He caught
her playful smirk and chuckled as he turned for the dining room, dutifully
answering, “Yes, dear.”
As Sara
came from around the kitchen counter she remarked, “You did a good thing
today…with Greg.”
He
shrugged off her attention and responded with, “I think you were far better
equipped in that situation. He was in need of comfort, and you were doing just
fine without me.”
“Don’t
sell yourself short, Gris… You were able to connect with Greg and you gave him
something he could fall back on, something tangible to hold onto. And besides,
I know from personal experience that you are very talented in the comforting
department.” She ended her analysis with a wink and a nudge that brought a
slight blush to his cheeks.
Sara had
a way of showing him his own heart. He often felt a lack of connection with
that organ’s theoretical purpose, but with her he knew what it meant to feel
compassion, as well as love. Her reminder of his ability to connect with and
comfort their co-worker and friend, was absent of the accusation that his
citation of the words from the Oscar Wilde tale of his imprisonment in one of
England’s many prison were obvious, even if Greg did not specifically bust him
on it. He waited for it, but as they sat down to eat, there was no mention of
the fact that his blatantly obvious quote meant she once again won their bet.
Not until
they began to eat did Grissom realize how hungry he was, or exactly how long it
had been since he last ate. He practically inhaled his sandwich and was just
finishing up his soup when he noticed Sara watching him as she absently pushed
her spoon around her bowl. His hunger also made him notice that her food was
relatively untouched.
“Not
hungry?” She shrugged off his question, and that made him a bit more concerned.
“What’s wrong?”
Sara
shook her head and smiled shyly. “I did a little too much sampling, I think…
You know how I am with cheese.”
He
chuckled at her reasoning. “Yes, well…I have to admit that I was not aware
someone could actually go through a pound of Jarlsberg
in a week.”
“That’s
why I told you not to get so much… If it’s here, I’m gonna
eat it.” She slid her plate and bowl over to him. “But I can’t eat anymore
right now… You finish it.”
Hesitating
for only a moment, he asked, “Are you sure? I could just eat some more soup and
get some crackers, or something-”
“Please…
Eat it. You know you want it.” She shot him with one of those one-sided smirks
that always tickled him.
His hand
reached out to the plate in the center of the table. “Well, I wouldn’t want it
to go to waste.” She laughed at his mock modesty and stood up with his empty
plate and bowl in her hands. As he devoured the remaining sandwich, in between
bites, he asked, “What’s different about the grilled cheese?”
From the
kitchen, she called back to him, “They were all out of the Canadian Cheddar I
usually get, so I decided to get some Smoked Gouda instead of the regular stuff
to make up for it. Why? Didn’t you like it?”
“No… I
think I liked it better.” He washed the last bite down with a gulp of water.
“Had more of a savory taste to it, and you used that oat bread instead of the rye. It’s a wonderful blend of flavors this way.”
Sara
slipped the last full bowl in front of him and leaned her head in beside his to
place a kiss on his cheek, while he dove into the last of the soup. “Thank
you.”
Moments
later, Grissom handed Sara the empty bowl and smiled back at her. They were
little things, but those small gestures were like pure gold to him. Each of
those little things was a sign of their love for each other. Every casual
touch, every meal prepared, every chore performed, every comforting word was
simply a demonstration of their commitment and caring.
When he
was finally finished, he got up from the table with the dishes and turned for
the kitchen as he started talking, “Hard to believe that something so simple is
probably my favorite mea-” He stopped when he realized Sara was no longer in
the kitchen. Gil turned in a circle as he scanned the area for her location.
Failing to find her, he called out, “Sara?”
From the
bedroom he heard, “Be out in a sec… There’s some dessert in the kitchen.”
His brow
immediately rose at the mention of dessert. Gil’s one great weakness, other
than Sara, was his sweet-tooth. He quickly made his way into the kitchen and
dumped his dishes in the sink. As he went to check the dishwasher he found the
tray sitting on the counter.
On the
tray were cubes of pound cake and shortcake, a selection of strawberry and blackberry
preserves, and finally a pot of liquefied dark chocolate resting in a warming
bath. It was absolutely perfect, and exactly what he had been planning on the
off chance that he actually succeeded in winning during their little wager.
There was something decidedly sensual about feeding sweets to the one you
loved.
“Sara…”
He began to walk back out to the dining table with his focus squarely on the
tray of sweets in front of him. He was trying to figure out just how she had
come up with the idea for their dessert, especially since he had been planning
to exactly the same thing. “Have you been reading my mind aga-”
When his gaze lifted from the tray, he was stopped dead in his tracks.
Leaning
against the column in the center of the room was a vision in the most
breathtaking pale golden silk. He instantly recognized the lingerie as the set
he purchased for her at the beginning of their game. Sara’s customary sleepwear
consisted of cotton shorts and a tank top, and he wanted to see her in
something a little more flattering. Not that the tight tank tops and barely
there shorts were not a definite turn on after years of only seeing her in the
many layers of work clothes, but sometimes he wanted a little something
special.
Seeing
her, standing there, draped in the silk robe, the delicate gown showing
through, and her bare leg peeking out from the luxurious material was enough to
make him bobble the tray in his hands as the oxygen left his brain. When he
bought the garment, he had imagined what Sara would look like when she wore it,
but he was completely unprepared for the reality of it.
He found
his gaze transfixed as she smoothed her palm down over her hip to her thigh,
looked up at him through her eyelashes, and spoke to him in a seductive voice,
“I have to admit, you have excellent taste.”
Her low
sultry tone kindled a burning flame in his chest and he struggled to
acknowledge her words. In the end, the only thing he was able to do was to nod
his head.
Sara
looked over her shoulder and gestured at the couch when she asked, “Wouldn’t
that be better over there?”
It took a
few moments before her question finally made it past his ears and registered in
his highly aroused mind. Gil blinked and broke his fixed stare from her form to
look down. That was when he remembered he was holding the tray containing their
dessert and he snapped back into reality. “Oh! Um, yeah, that would be…nice?”
After a
few more moments, his feet got the message and he started to move toward the
sofa. As he passed Sara, he could hear the faintest hint of a giggle, as she
tried to suppress the desire to laugh at his predicament.
He was
struck dumb by the reality of his dreams. When he had been trying to come up
with the perfect reward for winning their wager, all he needed to do was to
remember the dream which plagued his sleep for years. It was a simple dream,
but it always left him feeling renewed. Since the object of that dream had come
to share his bed, it remained a quiet thought in the back of his mind, but
having to come up with something for the bet jogged it back to the surface. On
an impulse, he began to scour the internet for the garment to match his dreams,
and the moment he found it, the purchase was made. But seeing it on her in the
dim, soft light of their shared living space shattered his dreams with the awe
inspiring reality before him.
Turning
when he reached the sofa, he looked around as though his mind was trying to
figure out exactly what the furniture was used for. If he had seen himself, he
would have been embarrassed by his fumbling, but all that was erased when Sara
appeared at his side and whispered, “Have a seat.”
“Huh?” He
was unnerved by her proximity and the warm tingle that her raspy breath sent
coursing through his body. He turned to find the faint light shining into the
room through the slats in the blinds dancing in her darkened amber eyes. She
raised her hands, placed them atop his shoulders and guided him to sit. He
looked down at the couch and said, “Oh, yeah, right.”
As he
lowered himself to the sofa, Sara carefully removed the tray from his death
grip and twisted to set it down on the coffee table behind her. When he reached
the last few inches before the sofa cushions, his legs gave out and he dropped
the rest of the way onto the furniture.
Sara took
one of the forks from the tray and speared a piece of the pound cake. He craned
his neck to see around her so that he could watch what she did. As he watched
her slowly drag the cake through the strawberry preserves, he felt an entire
bouquet of butterflies fluttering to life inside his stomach in anticipation of
her next move.
When she
turned back to face him, she held her right hand underneath the end of the fork
to prevent the preserves from slipping loose of the cake and staining the
lavish silk gown. Sara gracefully sat down upon his lap sideways and delicately
brought the fork to his mouth. Purely on instinct, his mouth dropped open as
the sweet morsel was moved closer to his lips. As it touched his waiting
tongue, he felt Sara lean into him a little more.
Gil
relished in the taste of the confection in his mouth, and the sweet warm
creature nestled into his body. He had never imagined that his dreams could
ever come true, but there, in that moment, with every instance of the machinations
of his furtive imagination a reality within his grasp, he knew that dreams did
indeed come true.
With his
mind back in command of his body, he reached up to wrap his arms around his
love and he held her tightly. Sara moved her arms to hold him around the neck
and then whispered into his ear, “With ideas like this, I should have let you
win sooner.” That was when she removed a folded sheet of composition paper from
the pocket of her robe. “Of course, only you would take the pains to plan out and
research every detail of a surprise seduction and then leave the plan out in
the open.”
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A/N2: The Ayn
Rand quote I referenced in the story was the following: “I consider promiscuity
immoral. Not because sex is evil, but because sex is too good and too
important.” From the interview given to Playboy Magazine, March 1964 (yeah, I
was a little shocked that’s what it was from as well).