THE MORNING AFTER

 

By

 

Ashleigh Anpilova

 

A sequel to Heatwave.

It's the morning after and Jenny is feeling uncertain.

An established relationship story.

Written: August 2009. Word count: 400.

 

 

 

Jenny awoke as the tantalizing scents of coffee drifted in through the window and the sounds of Cairo filtered into the room.

 

She lay for a moment just listening to the noise before turning her head towards the sleeping girl next to her. Ziva's long hair covered her face and the sheet was pushed down revealing her naked body. For a moment Jenny wanted to touch, wanted to run her fingers over the smooth, skin, darker than her own, dark against the cream sheets. But she didn't. She didn't like to.

 

What had she done? She had met the young woman under the oddest of circumstances, had had her life saved by her, and had fallen into bed with her with barely a pause for thought. Maybe Ziva was used to that kind of thing, but she wasn't.

 

And what happened now? What happened when Ziva woke up? Would they make polite conversation? Would they go their separate ways immediately? Or would they shower and breakfast together before parting? Did she want to sit on the other side of the table from the exotic young woman who'd seduced her, eating breakfast and trying to find something to say to one another?

 

Maybe she should just get up, dress and leave quietly. As much as she hated the thought of putting her clothes back on before she showered, maybe it was the best thing to do - for both of them. Ziva had not said so, but Jenny suspected she was with Mossad; her soft accent, the Star Of David that hung just below her throat, her looks, her skill, all pointed to Mossad.

 

And that meant they didn't have a future. But did that matter? Wasn't the here and now what mattered? If the last twenty-four hours had taught her anything, it was that life is far too precious to waste. Nonetheless, she was uncertain.

 

Then Ziva lifted her head, pushed her long hair back with one hand, and smiled at Jenny. "Good morning, Jenny," she said, running a finger down Jenny's cheek.

 

Jenny gasped and caught it. "I don't like to make love before I shower." She blurted the words out.

 

Ziva gently tugged her hand from Jenny's and again caressed Jenny's cheek. "Neither do I. So, we shall shower; return to bed and make love; shower again, and then we shall share breakfast. Yes?"

 

Jenny smiled and nodded. "Yes."

 

 

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