Chapter 7

Gibbs watched from across the street as Abby and Conrad leave for their date. His hands clench in an attempt to keep his temper in check.

'If he so much as touches her,' Gibbs thought then laughs hollowly. If Conrad Michaels was anything like him he would be hard pressed not to touch Abby. Didn't he himself go out of his way to touch her, on the shoulder, on her arm and her hugs were like a drug to him. He was more physical with Abby then he was with anyone else including his most recent bed partner. There was something about Abby that drew him like a moth to a flame and one day he would get burned.

The taillights to Conrad's car faded in the distance. They are gone and he is left. Climbing into his car Gibbs decided to head home, there is nothing left for him to do tonight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Abby watched the lights through the car window as Conrad drives to their dinner destination. She isn't sure but something tells her that Gibbs and Conrad have met before. Their body language and their voices hint at some prior exchange and Abby would bet the Major that their first meeting hadn't been civil.

'I won't worry about it,' Abby thinks, looking at Conrad's profile, smiling when he glances at her. Reaching for the radio Abby flips it on, sits back and begins to enjoy the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gibbs drove automatically, lost in thought not paying attention to his surroundings. It was a surprise when he found himself parked outside of Attic Space, one of Abby's regular clubs instead of his house. Why he came here he didn't know.

Putting the car into reverse he stopped.

'Might as well go in,' he thought. 'Abbs won't be here, not in what she was wearing and I could use a drink.' Shifting the car back into park he climbed out and made his way to the club door, ignoring the line that waits to enter.

"Yo, Pops get in line," a voice yelled.

"Yea, ain't you too old to be here?" another voice yelled, laughter following the question.

"The home called, your bed pan is waiting," a third voice shouted.

Gibbs ignored all the shouts, and taunts as he walked up to security and is ushered inside. The protests from outside are drowned out by the loud music inside.

Gibbs let his eyes adjust to the semi-darkness of the interior for a moment before moving to the stairs and heading to the catwalk that overlooks the dance floor. One of the waitresses took his drink order. He makes his way to the back corner of the catwalk. From here his back is against a wall and he can still see the dancers. Accepting his bourbon from the waitress he handed her a fifty, telling her to keep the change and returned to watch the dance floor.

Gibbs caught glimpses of black hair, short skirts and crop tops as the dancers; both male and female writhe sinuously to the music. One dancer grabbed his attention, and he finds himself hardening as he watched her.

She is wearing a short skirt that barely covers her ass. As she grinds against her partner he can see glimpses of her thigh high stockings. Her shirt is a simple white button up, four buttons left open giving glimpses of the bra she is wearing. Her pigtails move as she rocks her head side to side.

Gibbs knows this woman is not Abby but he finds himself watching her with a predatory interest. If he can't have who he wants maybe he could have a stand-in. Straightening up, Gibbs walks to the stairwell. He doubts it would take much to get her in his bed and a warm body would help to relieve his need. Walking the perimeter of the floor Gibbs keeps his almost-Abby in sight. Seeing her head to the side bar he follows. Walking up, he steps to the side of her and waits. It takes less than a minute before she is jostled, forced into his side, his hand on her arm to steady her.

"Sorry," she said smiling at him.

"No problem," he replied. "Waiting on a drink?"

"Trying to order but I can't seem to get the bartender's attention,"

"Allow me," replied Gibbs, signalling for the bartender who heads in their direction.

"How did you do that?"

Gibbs smirked, "Trade secret."

After placing her order, she turned to Gibbs, extending her hand introducing herself, "Tracy."

Gibbs took her hand in his, "Gibbs."

"Come here much?" asked Tracy.

"Sometimes. You?"

"Same. Um… I don't want to sound rude but aren't you…"

"A bit straight for this club," Gibbs finished smiling.

"Yea," agreed Tracy, a bit embarrassed. "I mean I don't peg you as a Goth."

Gibbs threw back his head and laughed.

"I work with a woman who is into the scene. She has dragged me to clubs, a few concerts and plays this music all day at work," Gibbs shrugged. "What can I say, after a while it rubs off."

Tracy smiled in return. While not her usual type this man is intriguing and the vibes he gives off are dangerous. Not wanna-be dangerous like so many of the guys here but real danger. Between his smile, blue eyes and danger vibe Tracy finds herself hooked. Taking a quick peek at him in his jeans and liking what she sees she wouldn't mind finding out how he is between the sheets. Moving closer she touches his arm.

Gibbs can feel the heat from her arm and he hardened more. He can see her lacy bra, and the creaminess of her breast as she leans against him. He bends his head so that he can hear her.

"I'm free and wouldn't mind spending some time with you," she whispered.

Gibbs turned so that her body was flush with his, looking down at her. His body wants to accept the offer but another part of him can't. It wouldn't be fair to her. He knows this and responds, "I appreciate the offer but.."

"But I am not your type," Tracy finished, her face clearly showing her feelings.

Gibbs pulls her close, letting her feel how hard he is and how close he is to accepting. He almost changes his mind when he feels her grind against his erection. Taking a deep breath, he growls in her ear, "You're more than my type but I can't. " Placing a soft kiss on her lips Gibbs walks away not stopping until he is out of the club and at his car.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gibbs tosses his keys onto the table, opening the fridge he grabs a beer, twisting the top open. Tilting it to his lips he stops. Turning around he pours the beer down the sink.

'What the hell is your problem Gunny,' Gibbs thinks. 'She was ready and willing. She wanted you. She could have taken this edge off.'

'But she isn't what I want. She isn't the real one,' another part answers.

Pulling the basement door open he flips the lights on. Just as quickly he flips them off and stalks to the stairs. Entering his bedroom he drops his wallet on the side table, grabbing the charging cord he plugs it into his phone before placing the phone on the side table.

Gibbs stripped out of his clothing, tossed the clothes into the hamper before striding across the carpet to his bathroom. Pulling open the shower curtain he turned on the taps flipping the shower on, before climbing in.

The hot water felt good on his neck ,and shoulders. He rolled his head to loosen the knots that were present. Grabbing the shampoo he squirted a bit in his hand and washed his hair. Closing his eyes Gibbs rinsed the soap from his hair. Behind his closed eyes he is assaulted by images of this last week.

Images of Abby in the parking lot, red dress highlighting her creamy skin. Her arms wrapped around a man that bears a striking resemblance to himself. Of her seated in her lab, laughing with Ziva.

Opening his eyes, Gibbs grabbed the soap and started to wash. The hot water lulls his eyes close, images present once more.

He sees her face as he makes that asinine statement. He wishes he could take it back but it is too late. He loves her expression when he holds her soda so she can drink. Confusion and curiosity wrapped together.

His soapy hand reaches down to wash himself but the moment he encircles his penis all thoughts of simply washing fly out of his head as he remembers how dark her eyes were when he kissed her. He slowly strokes himself as his sensory memory relives her taste, her scent and how she felt in his arms.

His mind soon replaces memories with fantasies and his strokes increase. Fantasies of her lying in his bed, sated after their lovemaking. Of her pinned to the wall, her hands above her head as his tongue and teeth tease her nipples, while his cock pounds her pussy.

Fantasies of fucking her on the dance floor as her favourite song plays; fucking her in the interrogation room; in her lab with her bent over her desk, her skirt pulled up over her ass, his fingers rubbing her clit, his tongue buried in her cunt from behind as she begs for him to make her cum.

Of her covered in black rose petals as he makes slow love to her. Of her pushing him against the wall, ripping his pants open and impaling herself on his cock, taking what is hers. Of him fucking her from behind as she talks to Ducky on the video monitor. Of her tied down begging him to fuck her and not able to move as he tastes and caresses every inch of her. Of her on her knees lips wrapped around his dick, sucking him off until he shoots his cum into her mouth.

Gibbs grabs the wall for purchase as his knees give out and he yells 'Abby' in release as the last image darts across his eyes. Harsh breathing and pounding heartbeat are all he can hear as his ejaculate mixes with the water and is washed down the drain. Rising slowly, Gibbs stumbled out of the shower, ignoring the towels.

Suddenly exhausted he stumbled to his bedroom and fell face first onto the bed; his last coherent thought 'Abby.'