The drink is cold, but not nearly strong enough. Tony takes a seat at the end of the bar, the best vantage point for tonight. Tony eyes the bartender, but decides to give bar chit chat instead of complaining about the drink. He's not here to get drunk, and the $8.50 is an investment, just like the Armani suit, the Italian loafers, the Tag Hauer watch, the new hair cut and the manicure.

Tony casts his eyes around the upscale after work bar. Soft music thrums in the background while women in their business-to-evening clothes cluster together before breaking from the pack to stalk their prey. The look in the women's eyes as they span the room tells the story of biological clocks ticking loudly, of open desperation for Mr. Close-Enough, of wedding plans that have been made and updated – bound and printed in triplicate at the local copy shop and available for download at their personal MySpace pages.

Tony makes himself look approachable. It's been a long time since he's had to pursue women. His investments make good bait – all he has to do is wait for the nibble. In this bar, he shouldn't have to wait long.

Tony makes sure it doesn't look like he's waiting to be joined by anyone – just a man on his own out for a drink after work. He seductively rolls his neck, showing his throat to the predatory females who use this bar as their hunting ground. Then he picks up his drink, parts his lips and sucks down a swallow in a move that is practiced to perfection as something sexy – without trying to be so – followed by a smile in profile, displaying his good looks to advantage. It is working.

Tony feels their furtive glances at him, and acts as if he doesn't notice the whispers and pointing. Soon enough, one of them sends a drink his way. His smile and wave have all the look and feel of genuine surprise that a woman would send him a drink and promises – no hints – at the depths of what he is capable of doing to show his gratitude. It's a warm inviting gesture, showing that he is open to them, a gesture he's used many times to charm his way into several pairs of panties.

The investigator in him snaps a mental picture of each woman as he ranks them in order of who he'd most like to take home.

A little tipsy, they giggle at his gaze and acknowledgement – which would be cute if they were in high school. Tony is haunted by Ziva's words, "The man you are becoming needs a woman." He refuses to listen to her voice echo in his head. He waves a hand in thanks to the women. He knows they caught the fact that he waved with his left hand. He also knows they would catch that there was no ring because they were looking for it.

He takes a sip of the drink they sent him. The drink tastes like loneliness with a splash of desperation, but he drinks it anyway with a plastered look of sensual enjoyment. Loneliness … lonely … alone … yes… Tony DiNozzo is alone with nothing for cold company but the haunting ghosts of dead agents (Jen, Cassidy, Kate) and lost loves. Tonight he needs something to chase the ghosts away … at least for a little while … a warm breathing body, pressed hotly against him so that he can sleep without dreams … just for tonight.

Tony presses back a dark thought that he's turning into Gibbs, an aging workaholic, a man who mostly drinks alone, has the infrequent sexual encounter, and spends way too much time fondling wood.

He continues sipping his drink to help push that thought way back, while he strains his senses to identify what is happening at the table of women. They are daring one girl to go over to him. God this is all so juvenile! His mind flashes to how much work it's going to take to get either of the women in bed. This was so easy, when he was younger and not afraid of being like Jenny, of dying alone, before Jeanne had interrupted his passion for his work with his need to be loved.

Instead of letting the ghosts get too close, he looks over at the women, flashes his warmest smile and runs a hand casually through his hair, pushing back the thoughts that he is getting old and any thoughts that he is starting to go gray. Tony briefly thanks God that DiNozzo men don't succumb to male pattern baldness.

So intent is he on his thoughts and baiting the hook, that Tony doesn't notice that Abby is there until she whispers in his ear, "Do you come here often?"

Tony is about to begin his favorite response to that question when he recognizes the voice purring in his ear. He inhales the scent that is distinctly Abby Scuitto and he realizes …his chances of getting lucky with one of those women at the table are over for tonight. He freezes a happy look on his face and whispers back, "Of all the gin joints, you have to walk into mine."

"Drink up Tony," she says as she slides next to him, eyeing him a bit. "I want to dance a little and I want you to dance with me."

Abby watches as he tilts his cup, drinking it all in one big swallow. Tony places his glass down on the bar. "You know that group of women at sent me a drink and I was just about to get lucky Abby, so this had better be one hell of a dance."

Abby's hand cups the back of his head, holding it in place as her dark red painted lips come close to his ear. Abby whispers, "Cheer up Tony. I'm saving you from those awful women." As she speaks her warm breath tickles and teases the sensitive skin of Tony's neck. It's been too long and the act is so intimate … every part of his body sits up and takes notice. To make sure he is safe, Abby places a long kiss on his forehead.

All of the alarms go off in his head at once. Gibbs had said no … FIRMLY! But Gibbs is not here right now and the little head is desperately trying to do all of the thinking.

When Abby grabs his hand and leads him away from the bar, Tony feels all warm inside, tingly. Her hand feels so soft, like warm silk and a stray thought passes through Tony's mind of what that hand would feel like rubbing his cock. And then he thinks, "Wow! Where did that thought come from?" It's not that he hasn't had fantasies about Abby before, but usually he confines those to his off hours in his bedroom – Gibbs can't control his fantasies about his co-workers.

Abby has never looked so good or smelled so good – even over the smell of booze and sweaty bodies. And Abby is smiling like she wants it. She wants it sssoooo bad! That look in her eyes is saying it all – that she's wet and needs it and you can have whatever you want, however kinky you want it. Tony can't stop the flow of nasty thoughts, they permeate his mind, pushing everything else out. He's not even sure that he's dancing anymore and his pants start to feel a tight. The driving beat of the music is made for sex. Abby's hips are swiveling and it seems as if everything is happening in those trippy slow motion porn scenes Tony likes so much. Abby turns around and grinds a little against him. "Fuck," Tony thinks and worries for a second that he may have said it out loud. She could just be teasing … they are more than co-workers, THEY ARE FRIENDS after all. But tonight, Tony doesn't want to be friends. Tonight he wants to fuck her like his favorite, personal whore.

His hands slide down her shoulders and come to rest on her hips. It would be so easy to flip up that short skirt, and wedge his thick cock deep into her pale perfect pussy.

As if she is reading his thoughts, Abby grabs his tie and leads his to a booth in a dark corner. Tony is concentrating on the feel of Abby's hand on his thigh, the pattern her fingers are making as her nails skim up and down his pants leg. Jesus! Nothing has ever felt better! Tony closes his eyes and moans, slumping down in the seat to get his crotch closer to her fingers. The nibble on his neck catches him by surprise but he loves it and his cock leaps in his pants. Just when he thinks he might cum from this touch alone, the fingers stop. Abby is unzipping his pants, freeing his thick cock with one hand and pushing back the table to give herself some room to work. Abby slips to her knees, helps him push down his pants. Tony watches as her red, red lips part and ever so slowly that juicy pink tongue peeks out…so wet …. so fucking wet. He can feel the heat of her breath just before her tongue strokes the head of his cock! Her lips form an obscene oval as she stretches them around the throbbing tip of his dick. He wants to watch – to see every second, but he can't. Tony throws his head back and moans. He knows he is not going to last long, that he should care about pleasing her too. But he can't. He needs this so much – he needs this too much. His hands twine in her hair and his mind forms the monosyllables … MORE … YES …FUCK… and then CUM!

And then the world goes all swirly and completely dark as the alarm blares. Tony turns it off without opening his eyes. His heart is racing. The dream had been so vivid, but he knows it's gone now and laying there will not bring it back. He moves a hand over his body and realizes he's naked and that he could cut diamonds his cock is so hard. The blankets must be on the floor again. He grabs them up and reaches into the side drawer. His fingers trip over the bracelet from Jeanne before they find the lube.

As much as his balls ache, he makes them wait. Tony grabs the bracelet, turning it over in his hands as he looks at it … and remembers. It's the first time he's looked at it in months. He puts it on his chest and grabs out the lube. He squeezes a bit onto each palm. Tony closes his eyes and thinks about every time he had sex with Jeanne … the exquisite feel of her soft skin sliding on top of him, the velvet patch of pubic hair that he could not get enough of fingering, the taste of her pink nipples, the first time she let him put his cock in her tiny little asshole. Tony pulls slightly on his balls stretching the already taught skin of his shaft, heightening the sensation. His hips move on their own, rocking upward to increase the slick, sweet friction with his hand. Tony bucks faster and faster against his lubed hand. His stomach flexes and the first eruption races through him, spraying like an uncapped geyser and soon he is sending streams of cum everywhere. And he is yelling. He yells her name until the very last pulse of his cock, until his balls are completely empty. Panting and covered in cum, he knows he is finally ready, because this is the first time he has touched the bracelet and not cried. Tony heads to the bathroom and he brings the bracelet with him. He turns on the shower and then flushes the bracelet down the toilet.