Title: The French Palace
By: lexus-grey
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sara/Catherine, CSI: Vegas
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note: I wrote this in response to a challenge I saw somewhere, but I can't remember where I saw it! If anyone knows, please feel free to tell me :) The challenge was: Catherine goes to a strip club to visit some old friends and sees Sara there, who Catherine soon finds out is the dancers' favorite customer.

"Hey, sexy," Catherine Willows purred as she stepped up behind one of her old co-workers backstage at the French Palace. She had felt the need to see some of her old friends, and it was her night off, so here she was.

"Oh my God! Cat!" the half-naked dancer practically squealed, spinning around and yanking Catherine into a fierce embrace. "What the hell are you doin here? Didn't you move on to bigger and better things?" she teased.

Catherine hugged her back and laughed. "I'll never be too good for you, Tay," she teased back.

"Wouldn't be hard to do," Taylor shot back with a self-deprecating smirk, but it was clear she was joking. "You look damn good, by the way."

"So do you, darlin," Catherine returned. "When you up?"

"Right now, Kitten," Taylor winked. "You'd better be front row, and get your wallet out. No ones, either. I want tens and twenties, Miss Crime Scene Investigator." And with that, she pushed through the curtains and took the stage.

Cat laughed, shaking her head in amusement as she headed out front to take a seat. She was just getting her wallet out when a throaty laugh got her attention. She knew that laugh. She didn't get to hear it often, but she most definitely knew it. That was Sara.

Carefully turning toward the sound, Catherine confirmed that it was indeed Sara, laughing and smiling and having a casual conversation with Sly, who was giving her quite the lap dance.

Okay, that was impossible. Seriously impossible. Sara getting a lap dance was one thing, but Sara looking comfortable and being social while getting a lap dance was something else entirely. She couldn't help staring.

Taylor sat on Catherine's lap when her dance was over. "You know Sara?" she asked.

"YOU know Sara?" Catherine asked in mild disbelief.

"She's a firecracker between the sheets, huh?"

"You've SLEPT with Sara?" Catherine nearly shrieked, nothing mild about her disbelief anymore.

"God yes, she's fucking amazing, Cat. Ask anybody. You haven't hit that? Where do you know her from?"

"The girls are whoring themselves out to Sara fucking Sidle?" Catherine shouted, her eyes wide, jaw dropped.

"Give her a little credit!" Taylor laughed. "Look at her. Does she look like she needs to pay for sex?"

Catherine took a good look. No, Sara did not look like she needed to pay for sex. "No. She doesn't."

"She's the favorite customer. She pays for dances and tips well. The sex is just a bonus for whoever's lucky enough to catch her attention." Taylor grinned, then remembered her unanswered question. "How do you know her?" she asked again.

Catherine couldn't take her eyes off of Sara. She was so relaxed and... happy. It almost put a smile on her face to see that, until she remembered their last conversation, in which Sara had accused her of letting her sexuality cloud her judgment, and she frowned instead. "She's a CSI in my unit."

Taylor couldn't hold it in anymore and she grinned. "Yeah, I know. I was just messing with you Cat. She hasn't slept with any of us. I just wanted to see your reaction. You're so easy to rile up when it comes to a hot woman."

"You little shit!" Catherine laughed, shoving Taylor off of her lap with a flourish, then playfully kicking her when she landed on the floor. "How did you know, anyway?"

"Your name may have come up once or twice," Taylor answered with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Taylor Stevens," Catherine warned, staring down at her former co-worker. "Spill it. Now."

Taylor climbed back into Catherine's lap and eagerly recounted the conversation with a gleam in her eyes.

Taylor slowly straddled Sara's thighs, grinning at the lack of reaction. "Where'd you learn to keep stone-faced like that?" she asked, putting her arms lightly around Sara's neck.

"On the job. I'm a CSI. Where'd you learn to dance like this?" Sara asked, putting her hands on the dancer's hips.

"Catherine, an old friend of mine," Taylor purred.

"I know a Catherine," Sara said idly. "We work together."

"Oh yeah?" Taylor asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's she like? Could be the same Catherine."

"Could be. I know she used to dance, but I don't know where she worked." She avoided the more personal part of the question.

"Come on, what's she like?" Taylor pressed, already knowing it was the same Catherine.

"She's intense," Sara answered, her brow furrowed as she thought about how else to describe Catherine. "She's beautiful. With the bluest eyes I've ever seen."

"Intense, huh? You like her?"

"Yeah, I like her."

"If she still worked here, if she was here right now, would you pay for a lap dance?" Taylor asked, grinding softly against Sara's thighs with her own.

"Who wouldn't?" Sara scoffed.

"What if she wanted to charge you extra because you work together? You know, compensation in advance for the potential awkwardness later on. How much would you pay?"

"What kind of question is that?" Sara frowned.

"Come on, just answer. How much would you pay for a lap dance from your Catherine?"

"I don't know. As much as I have, I guess."

"Is that why you won't fuck me?"

Sara smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Sure would," Taylor agreed, taking the bait in stride. "Okay one more question. If you had your Catherine standing in front of you, and you could do anything you wanted to her, what would you do? Tell me three things."

Sara had no idea why she was going along with this, but she had to admit, the fantasy was nice. "Strip her naked, throw her down on the table, and put my fingers in her so far that she'd cum all over my hand."

Catherine choked. "She did not fucking say that!" she nearly shrieked, slapping Taylor's arm.

"She did, I swear," Taylor promised, crossing her heart. "Don't believe me? Go over there and just mention this conversation with me, and watch her freak out."

"I will. And if you're lying to me Tay, I swear..."

"Not lying." She slowly got up from Catherine's lap and caught Sara's eye just as Sly finished her lap dance. She grinned and gave a cheeky little wave, and watched Sara's eyes widen as Catherine walked her way. This was going to be delicious.

Catherine tapped Sly on the shoulder, who was still seated on Sara's thighs despite the dance having finished. "May I cut in?" she asked.

Upon hearing Catherine's voice, Sly's jaw dropped and she stood up, turning to face her old co-worker and then grabbing her in a hug.

Catherine laughed and hugged her back, whispering in her ear, "that one's mine... I'll catch up with you after I stake my claim."

Sly smirked and nodded, giving Catherine a playful smack on the ass as she sauntered off to find her next customer.

Sara looked very awkward, and possibly like she was about to get up and leave, but Catherine stepped astride her chair and slowly lowered herself down to straddle the brunette's thighs. "So... I hear you're everyone's favorite customer," she said in a low, sultry voice.

"This is the club you used to work in?" Sara asked, swallowing hard, unable to believe the situation she suddenly found herself in. Catherine was going to use this against her, maybe even get her fired.

"Mhmm," Catherine purred, leaning forward to put her lips right next to Sara's ear. "If I still worked here, how much would you pay me for a lap dance?"

"I wouldn't." Oh, God. She really hoped Catherine would get bored of this quickly and just go away.

"Liar," Cat whispered, her hands snaking beneath Sara's top to rest on her sides. "I heard otherwise from a very reliable source." Okay, Taylor wasn't the most reliable source, but Sara didn't need to know that.

Sara stiffened, wondering if Tay had really told Catherine what she said. "Don't fuck with me, Catherine," she finally said, going for the defensive to cut this off before it got any worse. Catherine's hands on her bare skin were driving her crazy.

"You didn't say you'd pay as much as you had if I offered you a lap dance?"

Sara was about to shove the blonde off her lap when she felt Catherine's fingers start dancing upward along her ribcage. "I said it," she acknowledged in a low voice. "That doesn't mean I'd do it."

Catherine slowly slid her lower lip out until she was pouting in Sara's lap. "So you'd pay any of the other girls here for a dance, but not me?"

"I don't work with any of the other girls here," Sara argued, starting to lose her resolve at the feel of Catherine's fingernails lightly scratching in arcs just below the wire of her bra. *Catherine's hands are almost on your breasts, Sidle. What are you going to do about that?* "Watch it, Catherine," she said darkly as a finger stroked the underside of one breast. "I told you not to fuck with me. This isn't funny."

"It's not supposed to be funny," Catherine replied just as darkly, her pout fading away, hands remaining where they were. "And I'm not fucking with you. I really want to know... why wouldn't you pay me for a dance? I'm just as good as Sly or Taylor... in fact I taught them both all those moves..."

"It's not a matter of your skill," Sara said. "There are boundaries. Rules. Both on our job and on this job. You're not allowed to touch a dancer during a lap dance."

"So what?"

"Come on, Catherine... catch up. You're not that stupid."

"What, you wouldn't be able to keep your hands off me if I danced for you? I find that hard to believe."

"Think back to the conversation Taylor just blabbed about. Three things I'd do to you if I had my way. Then think about how hard it would be not to do them if I had you grinding all over my lap."

Catherine suddenly found it hard to breathe, and her fingers faltered, her hands slipping in their teasing quest. "Well... what if I wouldn't object to any of those three things?"

"Ohhhh, don't tell me that," Sara said, shaking her head. "Do not tell me that, Catherine Willows."

"Why not?" Her voice sounded much more hoarse than she would have liked in this situation. She would have preferred low and husky.

"Because I'm already *this* close to doing all three, and I don't need any more teasing from you. I'm not paying you for a lap dance, Cath. I really think this conversation should be over."

Catherine couldn't help herself, she started to slowly move her hips in a circle across Sara's thighs. "Then shut up."

"Don't do this to me..." Sara's tone was pleading now, her brown eyes wide. "We'll both regret it..."

"I don't do things I'll regret," Catherine whispered, her hands sliding further up to palm both of Sara's breasts and squeeze.

"I'm not an impulsive person," Sara whispered back, her eyes shut tight to ward off the image of Catherine straddling her lap, hands up her shirt. "But Catherine I swear to God, if you don't get up and walk away, in three seconds I'm going to strip you naked, throw you down on this table and fuck the shit out of you."

Catherine didn't think Sara would do it. The brunette had too many work ethics to manhandle her like that. But damn, she wished her co-worker would carry out that threat. "By all means, don't hold back," she said, managing a wicked grin even though the thought of Sara touching her was nearly making her incoherent.

"I'm not kidding. Get up and walk away. One second."

Catherine just sat there, though the grin had faded into a very intense expression full of anticipation. She allowed her hips to subtly grind against Sara's thighs as she waited, silently challenging her colleague.

Fuck. The desire was reaching boiling point in Sara's blood, and she finally snapped, grabbing two handfuls of Catherine's dress and yanking upward. She wasn't surprised at the gasp that left Catherine's lips, but she was surprised when the blonde raised her arms to help get the dress over her head. Then she remembered that Cat used to strip for a living, and she became less surprised. All this running through her head in less than the three seconds it took to get the dress completely off. Catherine was still on her lap, now naked except for her underwear and high heels, and Sara slung an arm around her waist, lifting her easily and tossing her on her back on the table.

Catherine winced at the initial contact with the hard, unyielding surface, and watched with wide eyes as Sara cleared the table of drinks with the back of her forearm. Then fingers were in the waistband of her panties, yanking them down and off, and she spread her legs for Sara, moaning like a whore with her head thrown to one side, her lower lip sliding between her teeth. This was unreal. Sara had already done two out of three, and had Catherine wet and wanting, spread out on a table in the middle of her former place of work.

The blonde cried out and arched her back when she felt Sara's fingers probing her slick folds, parting her, circling and then pushing inside. Oh God. Sara was really doing it, really touching her, really *fucking* her. She never thought it would happen, never thought Sara would have the guts, not in a million years. Fuck, was she glad to be wrong tonight. Sara's fingers felt so *good*, and she could smell the brunette's sweet, unique scent with every breath she took.

Sara didn't have the presence of mind to be shocked at herself right now. Maybe she would be later, maybe not. She didn't give a fuck. Catherine had baited her, and baited her, and baited her, and now she was gonna get fucked to oblivion. Cat was naked on a table in front of her, thighs splayed apart, clearly not caring who was watching, and she was wet. She was so fucking wet that Sara's fingers slipped in with the most delicious sound... and God, she was warm. Inviting. Soft. And so pliant and willing. She knew that she could do anything to Catherine right now, and the blonde would let her. And like it. And probably beg for more. The power rushed to her head as she pounded Catherine hard, in and out, in and out relentlessly.

Catherine nearly screamed, her back arching up off the table, hips trying to force Sara's fingers deeper even though she knew it was impossible. They were buried in her as far as they could go. Three of them. And it didn't even hurt. She felt like she could take anything, as long as it was from Sara Sidle. "Sara," she moaned, arching up further, her body on display to anyone who looked their way. Which was probably everyone in the club, if she knew her old customers well.

"Too much?" Sara asked, though she knew it wasn't. And she leaned down, taking Catherine's earlobe in her mouth as she fucked her harder. "Too bad. You asked for it, now you're getting it. I want you to come all over my hand, all over this table. I want everyone in this fucking place to know that you came, everyone, you got that? Even the people backstage."

"Okay!" Catherine gasped desperately. "I got it! Please Sara, please make me come!" She was nearing the point of delirium. So full, with Sara's fingers, so hot, with Sara's heat, so naked, under Sara's intense stare, and so desperate, for Sara to push her over the edge. She didn't want to climb down, she wanted to fall. And then suddenly Sara's mouth was on her clit, and she screamed, loud enough to be heard backstage, her thighs clamping around Sara's hand as the brunette tore an orgasm from her.

Sara was more than satisfied with the volume of Catherine's scream, and she grinned, sucking hard on her clit and riding it out until the blonde laid limp on the table, covered in a light sheen of sweat and panting to catch her breath. A wicked glint crept into her eyes and she pulled a hundred dollar bill from her pocket, laying it flat across Catherine's stomach. "Keep the change," she whispered with a wink, and then sauntered from the club with a very obvious sway in her hips. She knew Catherine would be dressed and after her within thirty seconds.