Chapter 1

The old neighborhood had gotten a bit louder since some college kids had moved in next door. They were nice enough to say hello to, but the music—stuff Abby would listen to—sometimes got on Gibbs' nerves.

They'd left a note on his door the other day, complete with a pair of earplugs. They were having some kind of filming party, whatever that was. The music was at a normal volume for college kids and he'd watched a baseball game while working on his boat. At midnight, he vacuumed up the sawdust and grabbed a trash bag full of wood scraps. He was barefoot, in a T-shirt and cargo shorts, but who'd care. He was a middle-aged next door neighbor, they wouldn't look twice at him even if he and they were outside at the same time.

Gibbs carried the bag outside and started toward the curb before freezing in place. A fire-engine red roadster was parked in his driveway and a barely-clad brunette was lying on the hood. "Abbs? What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, starting over toward her.

"It's a fine night to be a Suicide Girl." She started to sit up but collapsed back on the car, giggling.

What the hell? Suicide? "Abbs?" Gibbs rushed closer, reaching for her.

"Hands off her, old man!" Gibbs turned and someone—he couldn't tell if it was a male or a female—stood in ready position on his front lawn, pointing a canister of something at his face.

"S'okay, Bertha. Just Gibbs. My Gibbs. My Gibbsy. His Abbs. Go 'way, Bertha. I'm fine." The woman's eyes narrowed and she gave Gibbs a disgusted look, taking in his appearance.

"You whistle if you need me, Abby."

"Will!" Abby saluted with the wrong hand and laughed, her voice low and sexy. The woman turned away and hurried toward the other house and Gibbs shook his head. This was getting stranger by the minute.

"Abby, come on, get up. Let's get you inside the house."

"Better for you inside," she giggled.

When he helped her up, Gibbs became aware of the amount of flesh she was displaying. He immediately pulled his shirt off and tugged it over her head. It slipped off one shoulder, bearing all that creamy skin, and he swallowed hard. As if it wasn't bad enough that Abby was in lingerie in his driveway, she was apparently in a bad way as well. She tottered on her stiletto heels and he lifted her into his arms. "Not gonna have you breaking an ankle here, Abbs."

"Suicide, Abbs? What's going on?"

"No, no, Gibbs, not suicide. Suicide Girls. It's complicated. I don't know how to explain it." She sighed dramatically, and it was clear that she was searching for words, something Abby rarely had to do. "Kind of a burlesque meets Goth kind of thing. Pinup girls. You know pinups. Some of the girls I met invited me here."

Gibbs let out a quiet sigh when Abby buried her head against his neck. She was so shaky that he scooped her up, carrying her toward the house.

"It's all about celebrating womanhood, you know. Lots of skin, high shoes. I would wear these to work, but I'm pretty sure they would kill my feet. And I bet they're not dress code. But aren't they sexy?"

Abby kicked her feet up and Gibbs followed her gaze to her shoes. "Look, they're brand new shoes, and I love them. I didn't think I'd love these little strappy stiletto thingies, but it goes with the theme of the party. What are you doing at my party? Gibbs, are you a secret Suicide Girl, well, obviously you're a boy. But if you are, that makes all sorts of sense. You're missing some tattoos, but if you stick with me long enough we can take care of that. And you're sure attracted to danger."

Gibbs stifled a sigh. "Yeah, those shoes are sexy, Abbs. Why're you showing so much skin? I'm not at the party. You're in my driveway. See? My house." He pointed. "And over there is your party house. Where ya wanna go, Abbs? You barely have any clothes on. Did you drive over here like this? What if you got a flat?"

He almost headslapped himself for asking that question. He was flustered and they both knew it. He never talked that much; was never this rattled under pressure. He had to rein it in and study this with a level head.

"I've got sensible shoes in the car, so if I got a flat I can change into them. Because everyone knows you can't change a tire in stilettos. And it's a party about enjoying sexual fantasies, really couldn't show up wearing something I'd wear bowling with the sisters. Poodle skirts are retro but not kinky. So I wore this outfit. Do you think the sisters would like it? Maybe I could wear it when I bowl next time."

What if she got a flat? What was he saying? He had a mostly naked Abby in his arms and he was talking about flat tires. What was wrong with him? The Jethro Gibbs of the past would have been planning his seduction of her instead of being her protector, especially as she cuddled against him so tightly.

"Why would you think I'm one of those people?" he asked finally.

"Cause look at you. You're not wearing a shirt. There are a lot of shirtless guys at the party. None of them look as good as you do either. You just need a collar and a leash, and I could take you back in there and be the envy of all the other girls. Would you wear a collar for me? Maybe some leather pants, that would make the scene for me. They would have to be butter soft and really tight, so I can pet you and feel all those hard muscles under the leather. Oh, that would be really nice."

Abby was forthright, but she never spoke like this and she was rattling Gibbs. Hell, she wasn't even this open with DiNozzo and Gibbs knew they shared almost everything. He didn't answer her until he had her inside and had collapsed with her on the couch in the den. He didn't understand why he wasn't letting her up yet, but he had a conscious decision to go with it for now.

"Collars and leashes are for dogs, not Marines." And for submissives, but he wouldn't go there. "Leather is for shoes, and wallets, and belts, and jackets. Not pants. Abbs, how much have you had to drink tonight? I gotta sober you up and get you into the guestroom so you can sleep it off. I get it, you were going to a ... a sex party. Is it like a key party?"

She just blinked at him innocently and he felt like a dirty old man. "Key party, Abbs. Every guy throws his car keys in a bowl. Whatever lucky lady pulled out your key went home with you. They were big ... before." Yeah, probably before she was born.

"Anyway, most of those guys have more holes in 'em than a Swiss cheese. And I'm not wearing a shirt because I put it on you. Abbs ... don't do that."

Her hand was running over his chest now, fingertips scratching and pinching, snagging one of his nipples and flicking it back and forth, making him forget how to breathe.

"Abbs..." He looked around standing and grabbing a blanket and covering those long legs, attempting to put some sort of small barrier between them both. He wasn't surprised when she tossed it off. He was embarrassingly hard and the cargo shorts and boxers hid nothing. And with her slumped on the couch like that, his hard-on was almost at mouth level. He slammed his eyes shut but the image of those painted lips and that mouth deep throating him rushed at him despite his best intentions. So many times he watched her sucking on her soda straws, lusting for her. And now temptation was right in front of him and her inhibitions were down.

He flopped down on the couch next to her, but that was a mistake. Her hand went like radar to his pants, her palm running over his cock head through his pants. His body jerked into her touch once, and he let out a ragged groan before common sense returned.

"Abby. What the hell do you think you're doing?" Gibbs fought to keep his body under control, but it was hard. Damn hard. And she knew, was teasing his cock head like a pro. He wouldn't push her hand away ... not yet. It'd been too long since he'd had anything but his hand touching him, and hers ... felt so damn good. Letting her do this took his stupidity to new heights, but he couldn't make her stop. Yet.

Every instinct screamed at him to take the situation by the balls, pull his shorts down and see how she'd react, but she was drunk. And she was Abby. He couldn't take advantage of her. But when her hand started teasing his cock, the scent of both of their arousals mingling, he was so damned tempted.

"Abbs, Abbs, you have to stop."

"Don't want to," she said with a pout.

"Well, you have to," he replied, putting a tone of command into his voice. She shivered and removed her hand from his cock, only to place it between her thighs, stroking there. She had on a small pleated skirt, and he could see the flash of red under it. Black skirt, red underwear? That kinda suited Abby. Gibbs knew he shouldn't be looking, but there was no way he could wrench his gaze away.

The skirt was one of those schoolgirl things that she wore at the Yard, flashing all that skin, those long, long legs. He swallowed hard and tried not to follow the motions her hand was making. Stopping her from touching him was one thing, but he wasn't gonna stop her from doing what she was gonna do to herself. He knew it was wrong to watch, knew he was taking advantage of her, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

He wrenched himself off the couch and sat in the comfortable arm chair across from her, self-preservation winning out.

"Gibbbbbs," she whined.

"Better view," he replied, his voice thickening.

"Oh." Hers had gone all sultry. With him off the couch, she had more room to maneuver, and she took advantage of that, splaying her legs open more comfortably, the buckles on her skirt clinking. "They were gonna take pictures of me doing this when I sobered up. But I wanted to do it for you, Gibbs. I wanted to rub my pussy for you."

He gulped, not daring to answer. Her legs fell open more and she began to stroke the skin barely covered by the scrap of fabric. Her panties had darkened where her juices had moistened them and she drew her hand over the wet patch before bringing it to her mouth.

"I love how I taste, Gibbs." Abby's finger painted her lips with her juices before she sucked the finger inside her mouth, slurping on it noisily. Sucking on a straw or a piece of candy in her lab was one thing. This was something completely different. Gibbs' cock throbbed urgently, his hands curling so that he didn't allow himself to touch himself or her. Yet. He would ... but not yet. To deny that he would was ignoring the inevitable truth. Something was gonna happen tonight.

"My pussy tastes so good. Different from Kate's ... and Ziva's. More like Jenny's."

"You..." Gibbs began, the images slamming into his mind. Abby writhing with Kate, Abby and Ziva lapping at each other's pussies. And Jenny ... red haired all over, pink skin glistening with Abbs' saliva and her own juices.

"Oh yeah. Kate and I discussed your ... length. I mean you ... at length. She told me all about it, Gibbs..."

"She did?" Gibbs asked. It was fantasy, he and Kate had come close, once, but outside of a deep kiss on a stakeout, they hadn't gone further.

"Mmmm."

"And what did Kate say, Abbs?"

"She told me that your hard cock felt so good against her and that she could have kissed you all night. She wanted to, you know. She wanted to go a lot further than you did."

"Oh, I wanted..." Gibbs began before trailing off.

"She did too," Abby said, looking serious. "And I thought you were kinda sexually turned on by Ziva."

"Nope. You?" Gibbs asked. He wanted more information about Abby and Kate, but he didn't dare ask. There'd be time for him to question Abbs on that front later.

"Yeah," Abby said, a blush staining her cheeks. "There is this thing she does when..." She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. "Gibbs, she and Jenny do things to me that you couldn't even imagine."