Confessions of a Sex Addict

Mel looked at me after Catherine left. I ran my fingers through my damp hair and shrugged. I didn't know what else to say, except for: "We're busted."

She laughed softly. "Yeah. 'bout sums it up."

When her hand made contact with my forearm, I felt myself getting hard again. God, I love sex. I love sex way more than the average man; I mean, it's always on my mind, twenty-four fucking hours a day. I need to have sex at least four times a day to stay sane. It doesn't matter who it's with, as long as I'm getting it.

Catherine had been one of those four, one night. I had been at the French Palace, watching her dance, because word on the street was that she was the best in Vegas. Fuck, she was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. I knew I needed her. Eventually, I convinced her to go on a date. Between Chinese food, beer, and cocaine, we had an amazing night. God, Cath was just amazing. Slowly, one time became two times, and before I knew it, she was the only one I was fucking. The sex was always hot and always kept my attention. There was nothing she wouldn't try---if she hadn't already done it
before. There was this one time, in the dressing room at work, she did lines of coke off my chest while we were going at it. She was wild and I loved it.

We had a huge fight once. That's when I met Mel—who wasn't as wild as Cath, but who was a quick learner. She wanted to quit dancing and I didn't want to give up the life we lived. She wanted to go to school. School?! Fuck that! I got out of there. Mel and I met during Cath's first year at UNLV. She wasn't enough, though she tried; I still craved the sexy siren I met that dark, rainy night a year before then, at the French Palace.

I went looking for her once during her second year finals, immediately after fucking Mel and realizing she wasn't enough. Catherine was in the library, studying. After two minutes of apologizing, we were fucking in the stacks. She was clean, but she was still awesome. I didn't know if she could smell Mel on me, but it didn't seem to matter. Afterwards, we sat together; she started packing her ridiculously heavy crime books up into a canvas bag that used to carry her dancing clothes.

Fuck, I missed her.

She refused to leave with me. "Look, Eddie, I have a meeting with a professor. He's not in town for long, and---" She stopped. The look on her face was the strangest thing. I had never seen it. Couldn't name it if I tried. She spoke again, to something over my shoulder. "Hi, Dr. Grissom." This guy wasn't anything special, I noticed after checking him out. But, he certainly had her attention. "You're early." He smiled and told her that he had finished some silly body farm study early. What the fuck?! She patted my hand and told me she'd call me later. I brushed it off and went to a bar, instead of going home to Mel. That's where I met Tina.

Cath came back two days later. I tried to distract her while she worked through her university degree, but she was focused. She started working at the crime lab, and then, that's when I rarely saw her. When I did, though, the sex was incredible. When I didn't, there were Susan, Tina, and Mel.

Nothing changed until Catherine found out she was pregnant. We went to a doctor, and saw this grey blur on a monitor. It was mine. I loved it immediately, which shocked me. I knew I didn't love Cath the way she needed to be loved, but I felt true love for this blur. We got married because it was the right thing to do, and I started to go to therapy, secretly. A support group for sex addicts.

That's when I met Dr. Gil Grissom, the head of Las Vegas' Crime Lab and my wife's supervisor, officially.

Mel's lips on my back brought me back. We had quick sex. It was alright. Not as hot as it usually is, but it did the trick. Then, I went after Cath. Mel went to her place, knowing I'd probably be heading there later, myself.

I drove around until I ended up at her office. Her car was still there. So was that supervisor's. Figures. I got out of my beat up car and headed to his office, after I managed to seduce directions out of the receptionist.

My wife was in his arms! He was holding her too close!! I didn't like it, knowing the side of him that I did; he was too much like me. "Catherine, I—"

"Go away, Eddie."

"Cath, Mel doesn't mean anything. I want you, not her, but you're never ar—" I sighed and waved my arms. "You don't understand!"

She looked up. I saw how hurt she was. Beyond her, Gil looked calm. I really didn't like this. "I don't want to see you now, Ed," she told me, trying to sound tough.

"Yeah, Eddie." That smug boss of hers was tightening his grip on her. "Right now, it would be best if—"

I acted fast, grabbing Catherine by her arm and dragging her out into the hall. She yelped for Gil, but I shut his door. "For fuck's sake, would you listen to me, Cath?"

"I don't want to hear any lies out of you today, Eddie."

"I'm a sex addict."

There, I said it. Her eyes widened. So what if she didn't buy it? It wasn't a lie. She rolled her eyes. "That has got to be the lamest excuse EVER."

"Look, let's go home and argue about this. Away from *him*."

She squirmed out of my grip and moved to Gil's door. "I'm staying where I feel safe. Go away."

I couldn't take it. Shit, I was jealous. And, horny. She was hot when she was angry. "You shouldn't feel safe with him."

"Why not?"

"Because we go to the same support group. He's a sex addict, too, Cath." I couldn't help but leer. "How do I know you two haven't been fucking behind my back? Maybe my romp was completely justified?!" I saw the look in her eyes, and figured that my statement probably didn't have much weight in reality. Goddamnit. I want this to be over. "Look, Cath, please.... Just come back home with me."

She closed her eyes and sighed before opening them again. "No, Eddie. I'm going to stay here with Gil. I trust him."

"You can't trust him. He's a predator."

She shook her head. "You know what? I can trust him, because he trusted me with the truth. Go back to 'whatever her name is.'"

I watched her turn and leave, heading back to him. Defeated, I left the building and got back into my car. 'Closer' by some alternative rock band was playing on the radio. God, that song reminds me of sex.

Before I know it, I'm heading back to Mel's apartment.

~*~

Catherine came back into my office, cheeks flushed, eyes still hot from anger. She was so beautiful; she made me consider throwing away the control I worked so hard to hang onto.

"Why did you lie?" We both knew I had never told her how I was linked to Eddie. She knew we didn't get along—because I knew he wasn't fighting his addiction, and because he knew my weakness and didn't trust me with his wife—but that was all she knew, no explanations. And now, she knew everything.

She smiled as she shrugged, sitting back down next to me. I wonder if she knows how good she smells. Of course she does. That's a silly question. She would be one of those women completely aware of everything in her control. "I really didn't want to go home with him," she answered, truthfully. "I didn't mean to make you seem like the white knight, but—"

I cut her off as politely as I could. "I don't want to be blamed for—"

It was her turn. We could talk in sentence fragments all day, I believe, and still understand each other. "He's being blamed for ruining that." She sighed and ran a hand through her gorgeously copper hair. "Why didn't he tell me?" She asked, not to me, but to herself. Then, she looked up. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I coughed. What I wouldn't give to be a ghost now! "Cath, the group is anonymous, or supposed to be. And, you wouldn't want to hear it from me. You wouldn't have believed me, and then we would be fighting, and I'd miss you horribly." She gave me a small smile. "I'm sorry you had to find out that way."

"Me, too." She took my hand in hers. I can feel my pulse quicken. This is why I don't reach out to people. "Why didn't you mention your addiction?"

Of all the things I've seen and done, Catherine asking a simple question is enough to make me blush. "I, ah, Cath... it's not something that comes up in everyday workplace conversation."

But, it had come up in the workplace once. In San Francisco, it had nearly cost me my sanity, and consequently, my job. By day, I was a guest lecturer and CSI, and by night, I was a sex fiend. If I could, I'd have sex four or five times a night, on top of watching porn, reading seductive novels, and sometimes watching other people in the act, if I could. The double lives were difficult to keep up; after every sexual encounter, I'd shower and try to scour away the dirt I saw, coating and suffocating me. I couldn't shake the guilt, but I couldn't shake the need to feel that sexual high. It was a vicious circle I never thought I'd be free from.

When it started to get out of control, Sara Sidle caught me. She had been an intern at my crime lab, and she saw me scrubbing my hands with an S.O.S. pad—because I had to have sex, and after kicking the receptionist out, I felt gross—granted, not the most normal behavior. She pulled me aside and asked me what was going on. I told her the truth. I couldn't tell myself the truth, but I could tell her. Weird. She didn't grimace or squirm or turn me away. And, while we talked, for the first time in a long time, I didn't want to have sex.

She suggested that I move away, start over, because it would be easier to make a fresh start somewhere than struggle against memories somewhere familiar.

I was given a transfer to Las Vegas. That's when I signed up for therapy, and a support group. That's where I met Eddie Willows, a few months later, officially. I had seen him with Catherine years ago, at the UNLV library, but had never expected to see him there, of all places.

Catherine had no idea. Sara, when she came to the crime lab to work, told me that there was no way I could tell her the truth, that her husband slept with three to four different women a day. I knew she was right. But, I couldn't bear it; Catherine was wearing herself out, trying to work and be a mother, while Eddie was... fucking his way through the city.

"Gil?"

I looked up. "You always call me Grissom."

She smiled through her tears. They had returned while I was thinking, I guess. I do too much of that, I know, but I can't help it. Sometimes, it's easier; I don't want to root myself in the lives of others, for fear of disappointing them. No harm this way.

"I know," she shrugged. Then, she asked: "Eddie was telling the truth, wasn't he?"

I nodded. "We're in the same support group."

"Does that... help fight the addiction?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I see a therapist, too, every week. And, I abstain from any sort of—" When her jaw dropped, I fought the urge to chuckle. "Yes, Catherine, we can exist without sexual—"

"But, that's gotta be—" She stopped talking and started giggling.

I struggled, but I couldn't think of what word she omitted. Her eyes squinted, tearing up with happy tears. Her smile stretched to its widest. "What were you gonna say?"

After a couple seconds, she murmured: "That's gotta be hard."

We were both laughing within instants. "You have no idea." When the laughter stopped, she lost control again, breaking into tears, sobs shattering my heart. I wrapped myself around her again. "You're going to be okay, you know," I tried to soothe her, but knew I was doing a lousy job.

"Why can you control it and he can't?"

"I don't know."

I didn't really know. I just felt out the best way to deal with it, knowing that my career was more important. I did what I had to do.

"Is it my fault?"

Whoa. Where was the confident, sexy, brilliant woman I loved so much?

"Cath, honey, it's not your fault," I pulled back to look at her. She was so distraught. "It's not your fault. It's his."

"But," she struggled. "We still had sex... maybe I triggered it, or—"

"It's his battle to fight," I tried to relieve her, but, again, I knew I was doing a lousy job. "You couldn't have fought it for him."

"But," she continued. "I could've stopped sleeping with him," she rolled her eyes. "God knows my body would've thanked me." I reached up and caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes and sighed, two signs of trust. Why does she trust me? Eddie was right. I am a predator. I'm trying not to be, but the urges are still there. She shouldn't trust me. I don't deserve it. "Do you want to kiss me?"

"Nature of the beast, Cath," I tried to make light of the heavy question. "I will always want to kiss you."

"Would you?"

I sighed. I really didn't want to get anymore involved in this situation than I already was. "Catherine, you're still married, and what if—"

Her face fell. "What if I let you loose again..."

"No," I assured her. She didn't need to know about the darkness I associated with sex and romance. "'What if I like it?' was what I was gonna say."

She shrugged. "If you like it, we could—"

"Cath," I tried to back out of this without getting in trouble. I knew I was in for it. Even though I tried explicitly not to get involved in her rocky marriage, I was tied into it now. "You're hurt and upset. I can be there for you as a friend, but I can't..." I closed my eyes and tried to regroup. "I was self-destructive, and bordering on severely depressed, if—"

She put a finger to my lips. "I'm sorry. I don't even know why I would... I would never want to put you through that, you know that, right?"

"Yes," I said, as she fell against me and started to cry again. "I do."

"Forgive me?"

I hugged her closer. I would never be able to stay mad at her. She's too important to me for that. "There's nothing to forgive, Cath." She sighed and buried her face in my chest, breathing deeply. When her rhythm finally evened out, I realized that she was asleep. I tilted my head and watched her. Her cheeks were flushed and stained with tears, her lips were chapped, and her forehead was still showing the worry lines above her brows. But, she was still beautiful.

Carefully, I slipped out of her arms and pulled the old blanket on the back of the sofa over her. She didn't stir, thankfully. I went to my desk and started to do paperwork that had to be done, since I was in charge of the whole show now.

Every once and a while, though, I'd look over at her. My heart rate would quicken, and I knew that for her, I would've been willing to face that fear. I might not have been ready, but I would've been very willing.

Maybe someday.

~*~

I lifted my head and watched him sleep. His arms were still wrapped around me protectively, and I didn't want him to let me go. I loved the feel of his bare chest under me. I never wanted to be separated from him again.

It took us three long years to get to where we wanted to be. Three long years of him hiding from me, of me hiding from him, of trying to deny ourselves what we wanted. That time in his office, when I learned Eddie was cheating, that had been the first time Gil and I were ever affectionate—I thought it would be our last.

He looked so scared, back then. I'm glad now that he didn't let me kiss him. He wasn't ready, then. I really would've regretted pushing him into something like that.

Instead, we danced around our feelings for those long three years, trying to be the best friends we could be for each other.

But, after watching him sleep with a satisfied look on his face, I knew we weren't meant to be best friends. We were meant for more than that. We were supposed to be lovers. It might sound hokey; it makes me roll my eyes, but then, a lot of over-the-top things do. But, after sitting on it for a while, I knew it was true. Looking at him sleep, I knew it was true. I knew that I had put that look on his face, and it made me.... complete.

I loved him so much for so long. He didn't let me hold him again until a couple days ago, before the operation. After the procedure, I told him he was coming home with me; I didn't want to be alone to think about Sam. I wanted to keep busy, and if taking care of him would do it, that's what I was going to do. Simple as that.

He just looked at me, clad in that hospital gown that gave me the most delicious glimpse of his ass, and nodded. He said: "I'm ready." And, I knew what he meant.

When we came back to my place, he asked where Lindsay was. Field trip, I told him. It was true; she was gone for the entire day, a trip to an insectarium. Gil grinned, so obviously proud she was taking an interest in bugs. In that moment, I wanted him around more than ever; he'd be such a good influence for my baby.

Before he could run, I wrapped my arms around him. He returned the gesture, but he still felt hesitant. I asked him if he was having second thoughts. He shook his head. "No," he lifted my face so I could see the determination in his eyes. He was so sexy. "No second thoughts. A couple worries, but, no second thoughts." Jokingly, I told him that I hid all the scrubbing pads, remembering when he told me once about how he liked to obsess about cleaning himself up after sex. Gil's eyes softened. He laughed softly. "I don't need them. I just need you." I nodded in agreement. He held me and said: "We'll work on this together."

Our mouths crashed together; we kissed until oxygen became a dire necessity. When he pulled up, I was dizzy; he held me, and waited for me to gain my bearings. He was out of practice, but he was a really good kisser.

"Bedroom," I managed to insist, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hall to the softly colored room. Once inside, he shut the door. We undressed together. I kept my eyes on him, while I slipped out of my clothes, and he did the same. He was so handsome. When I reached for him, he stopped me, reminding me that there would be no going back after this afternoon. I didn't want to go back to the way things were; I didn't want him to be depressed, and I wanted us to love each other freely. It was about time. I nodded. "Gil, if you don't know by now how I feel about you..."

Neither of us were ready to admit to it, but I knew I loved him and he loved me. We collapsed onto my bed, and got tangled in the sheets; we rolled and laughed and moved together, while exploring the new sides we were showing each other. When I came—with him still inside me, which was a little surprising—he came.

And, then, he started to cry. No sobs, just little tears streaming down his flushed face. "Is this guilt, Gil?"

He shook his head. "Happiness. I love you so much."

And, then, he made me cry. I've cried enough in the past two weeks... I didn't think there would be any tears left. Of course, Gil, of all people, would be able to replenish the wells. "I love you, too, Gil."

We slept for a little while, but I woke up twenty minutes later, ready to go again. He chuckled, made some crack about me having the addiction, and gave in.

Shortly after, we fell asleep again.

"Stop thinking," he muttered, shaking me from thoughts of previous events, one eye opening slowly. I smiled at him, so glad that he was awake. Lindsay would be home eventually, and I didn't want to waste any time we had alone. His fingers drew lazy circles on my arm that was draped over his chest. "I can hear you thinking."

I leaned up and kissed him. "Well, I'm thinking about you, if that helps."

"It does." He rolled onto his side and watched me watch him. "Thank you."

Why was he thanking me? "For what?"

He brushed his fingers across my cheek. "For trusting me."

He sure knew the right words to say to make my insides melt. "Gil, you don't have to thank me. We never have to apologize, either... you know how we are."

"We don't have to," he smiled. "But, we always do. I want to thank you. It means a lot." He shrugged. I could see tears in his blue eyes again. "I never thought I'd be able to move forward, move past my..." He stopped. "You make me feel normal."

Before I knew it, I was crying again. God, he was good at this emotional thing. "You're far from normal," I kissed his chest where I could reach. Feeling him arch underneath my lips made me smile. "You're a brilliant man, a passionate man," I grinned at him. "Something I hope you'll never hide from me."

"I just—"

"You know there's nothing to be ashamed of. It's sex, Gil, that's it."

He kissed me. His lips were so soft, but firm... and they made me weak. He confessed: "It's sex with you. And there's more there to be *nervous* about than you'll ever know."

I was crying and blushing. Man, he was better at this than I ever imagined. But, there was still something that I had to say: "If things get... out of control again... you're going to be brave enough and tell me, right?"

He tightened his hold on me. "I want you to start coming to the support group once and a while, with me, if you wouldn't mind," his request was sweet. I never thought I'd be asked something like that, but it was the sweetest thing I had heard in a while... well, apart from 'I love you.' He blushed and his eyes darted away. "I know it's probably not what you'd like to do on a Sunday morning, but—"

"It would mean a lot to me, Gil."

"It would mean a lot to me, too."

I smiled. "Sunday, it is, then."

"You don't mind?"

Sometimes I wanted to kiss him, other times I wanted to knock some sense into him. "I love you, and since loving you means being supportive of what you're going through... I'm in." When he smiled and when his eyes started to overflow again, I added: "Besides, you've helped me through enough by now. I say my tab's getting pretty big."

"Cath... that stuff, was nothing."

"You inspired me to stop using, you helped me through university, you got me a job... you were there when Eddie cheated on me... don't tell me it was nothing. It meant a lot. We both know it."

"Yeah," he gave in.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. I had never sounded so sappy before in my life. "Are you listening to us?" Before I knew it, he was laughing with me. I loved the feeling of him laughing underneath me. The vibrations were so warm and comforting.

Goodness, I love this man.

Then, I stopped laughing and said the first thing that popped into my head. "So, you really didn't have sex since you came to Las Vegas?"

"You're the first," he replied. "How does it feel?"

"It's an honour," I said on a teasing laugh. Then, I asked a question I was dying to know the answer to. A little voice told me that I shouldn't ask the question, but I couldn't resist. "How was I?"

The look on his face was priceless. His jaw dropped and his eyebrows did that funny thing they do when he's deep in thought. "You want to know how you..."

"Ranked," I filled in when he trailed off. "Well, compared to the countless numbers of people you've slept with in your previous life."

"What is this?" His lips twitched into a half-smile. "'Let's Question the Recovering Addict?'"

I shrugged, easily joking with him. "I like to think of it as 'Confessions of a Sex Addict,' on late night TNN or something. So," I nudged him, my ego needing to be stoked. "Confess already."

His half-smile stretched into a wide, seductive grin. I could feel my toes curl. "How about you refresh my memory?"

Before I knew it he was kissing me and rolling us over so he could be on top this time.

It was only fair. He let me lead the last two times.

The End!