A/N: So I was listening to 'Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy' on the way home, and I remembered this episode of NCIS in which Gibbs rode a horse...

"Ziva, what's the sexiest thing a man can do?"

Abby Sciuto raised her eyebrows and bit her bottom lip delicately as she topped off her Israeli friend's fine crystal wine glass. Her green eyes sparkled and she tossed the cork into the air deftly, popping it back into the bottle of expensive Bordeaux.

"I cannot remark with authority on such a thing," Ziva David answered vaguely.

"And why not?" prompted the Goth.

"Because I am not all women," responded the Ninja. "What I find sexy may be infinitely different from what you find sexy."

Abby rolled her eyes good-naturedly. She cocked her head as she sampled her second glass of wine and grinned.

"Fine then. Personally, what do you think is the sexiest thing a man can do?"

Ziva smiled gracefully and leaned back, swirling her wine a little.

"That I can answer," she said, taking a slow sip. She frowned slightly. "On second thought, that is a difficult question," she mused, puckering her lips. "I do not want to go first."

Ziva nodded at her friend.

Abby made a face.

"No, yuck, I was going to use your turn to think of my answer!" she protested, swiveling to look at the fancy desk in the study. She cleared her throat lightly. "You go first, Director," she said brightly, speaking to a bowed crown of red hair.

Jenny Shepard lifted her head slightly, taking a break in her meticulous recording of an NCIS financial document.

"I'm trying to work," she said mildly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you need more wine?" Abby asked breezily, ignoring Jenny's protest and wiggling the bottle. Jenny glanced at her half-empty glass and shook her head, the corner of her mouth quirking up just a little.

"Plying me with alcohol isn't going to distract me," she said smoothly.

"Keep telling yourself that, Director," Abby said cheerily.

"If you are going to drink my Bordeaux, call me Jenny," the redhead said tersely, looking a little possessively at the bottle her employees had ferreted out of her glass cabinets. The writing on it was French, all French, and it tasted bittersweet with memories of the region it was brewed in.

"Jenny," Abby amended warmly, holding up her glass.

"It is hopeless, Abby," Ziva said with a small laugh. "I have tried to loosen her lips with alcohol before. Her self control is impeccably."

"I'm very convincing," Abby said airily, taking another drink. "Jenny," she said persuasively, raising her brows. "Don't be shy. What's the sexiest thing a man can do?"

"Leave me to my paperwork in peace."

"You have to participate, Jenny, we're in your study."

"I don't remember inviting you in to my study," Jenny answered primly, looking up and glaring lightly at the lab tech. Abby beamed mischievously and mumbled something about an impromptu NCIS female bonding night.

It was necessary they have them, you know, in the face of the Navy Yard Boy's Club.

Jenny shook her head and returned to her elegant writing, tapping her nail lightly against the bottom of her glass. She was silent for a moment, and took a sip, and Ziva decided to save her from Abby's persuasive chatter and speak up.

"Hair," Ziva said mysteriously. "Hair is sexy."

"What kind of hair?" Abby asked curiously.

Ziva touched her knuckles to her jaw.

"Five o'clock shadow," she answered, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. She bit her lip, and fell silent.

Jenny laughed under her breath.

"And?" the redhead prompted.

Ziva shot her friend a look and Jenny laughed, leaning back to take a break and a drink from her glass. The Director shot a teasing look at her old friend, and then glanced over at Abby; she pointed accusingly at Ziva.

"She likes body hair," Jenny revealed impishly. "Chest, legs," Jenny smirked into her wine. "Butt."

"I know stories of you that you do not want floating around NCIS," Ziva threatened darkly.

Jenny laughed and stretched, bending back over her work.

"Do you not like body hair, Jenny?" Abby asked, unfazed.

Jenny shook her head minutely, distracted by her work, but she didn't answer.

"I'm not a fan," Abby divulged. She grinned. "I like men's faces to be all clean and smooth."

"We know," Ziva said.

"How?" demanded Abby, lifting her eyebrows.

"You dated McGee. He couldn't grow a mustache if his life depended on it," Ziva retorted.

"Hey, be nice to Timmy," Abby said. She took another sip and smirked. "He does other sexy things."

Ziva made a face and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other.

"That's a physical trait though," Abby muttered, leaning to the side and resting her chin in her palm. She balanced her glass on her thigh with one hand, legs curled under her in one of Jenny's leather armchairs. "What's an action you think is sexy? Or something they say?"

Silence, for a moment.

Then, Ziva answered:

"I have never quite thought about it," she noted with interest. She shrugged. "I suppose I like to see men fire weapons."

Abby made a face and crinkled her nose.

"I think it's sexy when they walk dogs," Abby said, choosing a less violent option.

"Motorcycles," Ziva offered thoughtfully. "Cooking—no, not cooking, watching a man slice up vegetables or fruit."

Abby looked surprised.

The Goth then giggled and pointed.

"When they try to act cool after they trip or something," she said.

Ziva smiled wickedly. She took a drink, then snapped her fingers and pointed triumphantly.

"Shaving," she said. "Watching a man shave in the morning."

Abby whistled in a low tone.

"Oh, yes," she agreed. "Their jaws get all tight and their hands just flex and move so languidly," she shivered and wriggled her brows.

Ziva nodded.

"They drag their knuckles over their skin after, to see if they missed a spot," she muttered.

"That's it," Abby said. "The sexiest thing a man can do is shave."

Abby tilted her head and lifted her glass, eyeing the director coyly.

"Wouldn't you agree, Director?" she asked lightly. "Nothing sexier than shaving."

"No, I don't think I would," Jenny answered mildly, signing her name at the bottom of a file. She sat back, relaxing, and held her wine glass to her lips, pursing them confidently.

"You've got something better?" Abby challenged.

The redhead smirked brazenly, the heady scent of the French wine overcoming her senses with recollections of the European countryside.

"Have you ever seen Jethro ride a horse?"

I don't think I should be allowed to listen to the radio.
-Alexandra