Chapter 2
She sat looking out of the window, watching the porters load the luggage into the bottom of the plane. Soon she would be in the air, flying away from D.C., but to what, she didn't know.
It had been years since she last saw Catherine Willows. She was a different person then, younger yes, but more than that. She was less...jaded. Less hard. Would Catherine even recognize her?
As the plane began to move down the runway, Ziva allowed herself the rare chance to recall the past. She remembered why she had gone to Vegas five years ago and how she had met the beautiful Catherine Willows.
When she was younger, she was so confident, so cocky. How Jenny loved her then. She was as close to love as Ziva had ever found. She adored the older redhead, would have died for her, if necessary.
She knew Jenny had loved her. But when push came to shove, she loved her career more. When the chance to go back to the States for a promotion arrived, Jenny knew she could never bring Ziva with her; not as her lover at least. Ziva understood Jenny's career was all she had ever had. She worked hard to get where she was and would not jeopardize it just for the company of a young Israeli Mossad officer, no matter how pleasurable that company may be. So she made a choice. And Ziva lost her. They had remained friends, but Ziva had been hurt deeply.
The wounds left on her heart by Jenny were cavernous. Ziva knew that she should shake off the hurt and move on. Company was never hard for the beautiful brunette to find, but she just kept comparing them to Jenny. Some wanted to control her, some to use her, and some to trap her. But none that wanted to love her - love her as simply and sweetly as Jenny had.
She needed to get it all out of her system. Find a woman or a man, and take what pleasure she needed and move on. No more relationships. No more feelings past the need for release. But in Eastern Europe, her options were limited, especially if she wanted to remain discreet. So when the chance was offered for her to take a few weeks off between assignments, Ziva decided to go to the States. And what better place to lose yourself for a while and be free to do as she pleased then Las Vegas.
"After all," Ziva reasoned to herself. "They say what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Just what I am looking for."
Her first night at the Tangiers casino, Ziva decided to check out the nightclub in the hotel.
"If I am lucky, I will find some amusement for the night," thought Ziva. "If nothing else, I can get pleasantly drunk and dance."
Sitting at the bar, Ziva looked around at the crowd. A lot of beautiful people, men and women, but no one that really caught her eye. As she started to turn back to the bar, a flash of red hair caught her eye.
She watched as a beautiful woman with fiery red hair seductively moved on the dance floor. She was wearing a short emerald green dress that showed off her long, shapely legs. Ziva was mesmerized by the way the dress hugged the woman's hips, forcing her eyes to follow the sways and dips as she moved. The woman's head was thrown back, arms raised and resting on the back of her neck. Her long hair swung and reflected the light, making it look like molten lava. Ziva knew instantly, as her breath quickened at the sight before her, that this was who she was looking for.
Setting her glass down, she began to get up to move to the woman. She was determined that she would seduce her, no matter what she needed to do. Before she could take a step, the redhead turned to the woman behind her, apparently her dance partner, and said something with a laugh. Throwing the woman a wink and a kiss, she headed for the bar.
Ziva quickly looked around and saw the only available seat was one down from hers. A man was sitting next to her, alone. She leaned into him and asked if he would mind moving over one seat because she had a friend who was about to join her and wished for them to sit together. Ziva quickly sat back on her stool and placed her arm around the now empty one next to her.
The woman walked up to the bar, paused behind the empty seat, and called to the bartender for her 'usual'. Ziva casually looked up, about to ask if the woman wanted to sit. She gasped at just how gorgeous the woman was up close. She was fanning herself with a napkin and running her hand through her long hair. Ziva was totally captivated by a single bead of sweat that was traveling down the woman's chest and disappearing into her cleavage.
The bartender brought the woman's drink, and she glanced down at Ziva and asked, "Are you saving this for someone?"
Still staring at the woman's cleavage, Ziva didn't catch the question. "Hmmm?"
"This seat?" the woman said with a smile. "Is it taken or can I sit here? My feet are killing me."
"No, please. Have a seat," Ziva stammered.
"Thanks." Sitting down, she took a sip of her drink and turned to Ziva, and held out her hand. "Catherine. So, first time in Vegas?"
Ziva gave the woman a stunned look before replying. "It shows?"
Catherine gave her a slow and deliberate going over with her eyes before answering. "Yeah, it does. You look unsure of yourself but not exactly shy. Almost like you are trying to figure out how everything works. And your name?"
Ziva laughed and took the woman's hand. "Ziva David. And by what I can see, you are a regular here. You seem very at home. The bartender knows your drink. You show no fear in choosing your dance partners. Almost as if you want to shock but know you will not."
With a lifted eyebrow, Catherine gave a breathy laugh, "You sound like a cop. And where is that lovely accent from, Ms. David?"
"Not a cop, as you say. " Ziva responded. "And I am from Israel. Just here for a little vacation and to see the sights."
Catherine took another sip of her drink. "And how are you enjoying Sin City so far?"
Ziva shrugged casually. "I have only been here a few hours, so I have seen no sin as yet. But I can say the sights are certainly beautiful. At least from where I am sitting."
Choking on her drink, Catherine laughed loudly, "Gee, subtle often?"
"Not really," Ziva deadpanned. "I am not used to much conversation. I prefer to be direct, saves time, yes?"
"I suppose so, " Catherine chuckled. "How's that working for ya?"
"It remains to be seen." Ziva replied, leaning forward and placing her hand on Catherine's knee. "You are very beautiful, Catherine. I found your dancing to be...quite arousing."
Catherine looked at her in amazement, but Ziva ignored her and continued. "I prefer not to spend the night alone. I am staying here and would like it very much if you would choose to join me in my room."
Catherine just stared at her open-mouthed for a moment, then blushed. "Boy, you are direct. Don't you think you're a little young for me? And what makes you think I would even consider your request?"
Ziva looked directly into Catherine's eyes, "Young? What does age matter? I find you to be beautiful and sexy. What else matters? It is obvious that you are a woman who enjoys her pleasures. Your drink, your dancing. You move like a woman who enjoys sex, enjoys enticing those around you and has no qualms about it. Your body was made to give pleasure and take it as well."
Ziva paused, giving the woman a chance to protest. When she doesn't she continued. "You are here for a reason, no? You too seek comfort in the night, but even in your confidence, you fear rejection. I offer no such rejection, the opposite actually. Why not find comfort in each other? I offer nothing but a night of sexual pleasure and physical release. So, will you join me, Catherine?"
Leaning forward, Ziva placed her lips against Catherine's, kissing her. A soft, tender kiss, that was full of promise as she lightly ran her tongue over Catherine's bottom lip.
A shiver ran up Catherine's back, awakening feelings she had suppressed long ago. Pulling in a ragged breath, she looked a Ziva for a moment, then took her hand. "Let's go."
Ziva opened her eyes when a beam of sunlight hit her face. She groaned and turned her head away from it. Looking around the room, she is momentarily confused by the chaos. Lamps have been knocked off of tables, an empty bottle of wine peeks out from under the dresser and clothing seems to be everywhere.
"What in the world happened in here?" Ziva wondered to herself. "It looks like there was a battle!"
Still in a daze, she continued to look around and spied a pair of lace panties hanging from the wall sconce. At first she frowns at the sight, then she remembers - red hair - kisses - groping hands - struggle for dominance - ripped clothes - tangled limbs - moans - sweat - screams - release - and she smiled.
"Catherine," she murmured, sensing for the first time legs still tangled with hers, sheets twisted around a warm body pressing into her. Shifting so she can better look at the woman beside her, Ziva was again struck by the simple beauty of her. She lowered her head and gently kissed the pale, freckled shoulder. The woman next to her gave a sigh and snuggled in closer to Ziva.
"Mmmm," sighed Catherine as she slowly opened her eyes. She looked up directly into intense chocolate brown eyes and smiled. "Well hello, gorgeous."
Catherine stretched her body and moaned, half in pleasure, half in pain. "Oh, I haven't been sore like this in ages. But I won't complain, considering how I got this way!" Laughing, she leaned up and kissed Ziva.
"Hello to you, too," Ziva replied. "I'm surprised to find you still here. Not that I'm complaining, of course."
"Mmmm, me too. What time is it?"
"Ten o'clock."
"Oh my God! I need to leave!" Catherine exclaimed, jumping up.
"What is your rush? It is Saturday." Ziva lazily replied. "And I am in no hurry to see you go." She reached to pull her back onto the bed.
"Saturday?" Catherine asked. "Are you sure? Whew! That's a relief. I thought I was late for work."
As Ziva pulled her back to kiss and nibble at her neck, Catherine laughed, "Didn't you get enough of that last night?"
"No," Ziva mumbled into Catherine's throat. "There are still some positions we have not yet attempted." She grabbed Catherine and pinned her to the bed, cutting off her laughs with kisses.
