The digital readout on the computer screen let Abby know that it was nearly one in the morning, and as her fingers crawled across the keyboard, she realized it was finally time for sleep. As she powered down all of her technical gear, she yawned several times, exhausted but content with having solved another case. It took the gothic lab technician several minutes to pack up her things, but she eventually was prepared to head home.
Just as she was heading for the door, belongings stuffed into a miniature backpack dangling from her hand, the lab telephone chirped to life. The noise jolted Abby to a state of lucidity she usually displayed under the effects of Caf-Pow. Assuming it was Gibbs (who worked this late on a consistent basis) caused the woman to shuffle quickly into her office, knee-high platform heels clicking with every step.
Abby's gravelly voice rasped over the receiver, "Yes, Gibbs?"
Ziva's face twisted into one of confusion, before shaking her head, "No Abby, it's me, Ziva."
"Oh, sorry Ziva, I'm really drained, and was about to head home. What's up?"
"I need to talk to you; it is very important, and will only take a second."
A heedless groan rang throughout the Israeli's head, followed by, "Ziiiiiiiivvaaaa..."
"Be right down."
Ziva looked about the dark squadroom, the only light coming from the weak lamp atop her desk. The woman hastily ripped the sweater from her person, revealing a black body-conforming tank top underneath. She let her hair down while simultaneously extinguishing the lamp. The sound of her cargo pants swishing together led down the hallway.
Abby was dead to the world. Her face had met desk only moments after talking with Ziva, and there she would remain, slumped forward in her chair, lightly snoring. Ziva crept into the dimly lit office, eyes wide with curiosity. Coming within reach, she extended a hand, nudging Abby's left shoulder. The goth stirred, mumbling incoherently, before finally raising her head. Ziva offered her a sheepish grin and received a morose grimace in return.
"What is it Ziva?"
The Israeli woman seemed at a loss for words, though her peculiar gaze held Abby's attention. Abby sat up straight, frowning deeply, skeptical of the encounter.
"Did Tony put you up to this--make sure I lose as much sleep as possible?'
Ziva quickly shook her head, "No, he did not; Abby, I need to ask you a personal question--woman to woman."
Ziva's demeanor, tone of voice, and admission of something deep to come not only erased the frown front Abby's face, it sobered her instantly; her fatigue was replaced with excitement as she stood up, grinning now, to sit atop her desk. She crossed one leg over the other and stretched the minuscule remainder of black skirt to cover her knees. She was showing a lot of thigh, though she was thoroughly unaware, much more interested in what Ziva had to say.
Abby nodded at Ziva, "Shoot."
The Israeli was once again permanently silent, hands digging into her pockets. She avoided Abby's piercing gaze and focused on the floor. Moments would pass before she finally mustered the courage to face her audience again, half her face hidden behind a sheath of hair.
"Well, I suppose I'll just say it: Abby, I really like you, and--"
Abby's hoarse voice cut in, "Awww, I really like you too Ziva."
"Thank you. However, what I mean is--how do you say--'like you', like you."
The grin on Abby's face slowly evaporated, only to be replaced with genuine astonishment. Abby's voice was even more crackly than usual, "What are you saying?"
Ziva scrutinized Abby's mood shift and, embarrassed, started for the door.
"I'm sorry Abbs, neverm--"
Ziva was silenced as a cold hand closed around her wrist. Her eyes slid to a close, heart hammering against her poor ribcage relentlessly. The alien tension in the room only caused her more grief, especially since Abby was deathly silent; she yearned to leave. Half a minute passed, until Abby found her voice.
"Look at me Ziva--please."
Her heart skipped a beat or two, but she obeyed, turning back to her companion. Abby's hand dropped away, and Ziva opened her troubled eyes. She noticed right away Abby's pursed lips, the hot red lipstick drawing her attention. Abby's stare was blank, wary.
"Do you really mean that?"
Ziva sensed Abby's skepticism, and felt the need to prove she wasn't joking. The Israeli took a step forward, her skin alive with heat; she was more at ease ducking gunfire than preparing for what she was in the process of doing.
Gently she uncrossed Abby's legs, which forced the goth to lean back slightly, resting on her palms. Her doe eyes raised a protest her lips could not, since they were engulfed by Ziva's that very same moment. The Israeli stood with her abdomen meeting Abby's waist, the woman's legs dangling at either side of her confessed admirer.
Abby's toes curled as best they could within her knee-highs, her eyes fluttering rapidly. Ziva softly clutched the woman's chin as they kissed, and before they got any further, Abby pulled away, silently gasping for air. Her modified pigtails dangled cutely as she hung her head, lips ablaze with heat. She instinctively licked her lips, tasting the faint impression Ziva's mouth had left. Still panting, she looked up at the Israeli, a puzzled expression riddling her features.
Ziva stared Abby down like a stalker does his prey, her hands lightly gliding up and down Abby's exposed thighs. This maneuver illicited a raspy moan from the goth, whose skin was now sporting goosebumps. When Ziva moved to lift Abby's skirt, however, she caught both of Ziva's wrists, shaking her head.
"I don't think I can do this."
Ziva was imperturbable, eyes locked upon her companion's, offering a sweet smile.
"Trust me Abby--you shall not regret it."
The Goth nodded slowly and relented, releasing her grip to lean back on her desk, eyelids heavy, nipples poking through her blouse in obvious arousal. Ziva proceeded as planned, teasingly pushing the skirt up, until Abby's bare pussy was revealed; the woman wasn't wearing undergarments. She was wet, arousal leaking from a pair of meaty lips, engorged beyond belief. Abby was a big girl, her frame not exactly feminine, and so her lips followed suit.
Ziva watched Abby's face flush as her private parts were put on display. She squeezed Ziva's sides with her legs, her heels crossing behind the Israeli's back. Abby looked away, blushing deeply.
"Please don't stare, I'm extremely body conscious."
Her 'lover' remained silent, towering above, inhaling the intoxicating aroma wafting from in between her legs. Abby squealed when Ziva began to stroke her pussy with a flat palm; she damn near came when she was parted, her inner lips falling victim to tantalizingly slow strokes that teased her into a state of euphoria. She began to pant in two-second intervals, her large breasts heaving up and down.
Ziva stroked those slippery lips vigorously, placing her free hand on Abby's mound. She tweaked the small love button for only a few seconds when Abby announced an orgasm with a guttural growl, her teeth clenched together. Thin girly cum issued from her depths, coating Ziva's hand, fingertips to wrist.
Abby fell backward, lying atop the desk, legs once more dangling free.
Ziva stood erect, sucking her soiled fingers. Her lips were twisted, a satisfactory expression noticeable even though she was cleaning her hand. When she was finished, she placed her hands atop Abby's knees and gently pulled them apart. She looked down at Abby, offering a coy wink.
"Ready for more?"
To be continued...