Foxes and Dragons

A to Z - Abby/Ziva pt 1/2?

2009-08-17T21:23:31Z

Title: A to Z
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Abby/Ziva
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters! This is a tribute to the depth of the characters others have created.
Rating: PG-13 in pt 1, NC-17 in pt 2 (or should it end here, votes?)
Spoilers: None, this would be set earlier in their acquaintance, Lee gets an honorary mention, but that's it.
Summary: Ziva knows but she won't tell until Abby comes to her.

A/N I started this like 2 years ago. I'm posting it now during the summer lull to maybe find the inspiration to finish. Life has been a little to much like everyone else's lately, in a good way, but I gotta bust out now and then :)

A to Z

The way Abby moved around her lab was almost like a dance, albeit to an industrial metal soundtrack. Her partners were the machines and screens - the tools of her trade - analyzing, testing thousands of samples of evidence. Lasers blasting apart unknown substances to find out what they were made of while computers blasted apart code to find still more answers. Turning toward the door and noticing Ziva standing and watching her, Abby tripped a little and caught herself mid twirl. Ziva was sure she had never seen Abby trip, despite the three-inch platform soles of her favorite pair of boots.

She smiled inside but she caught herself before she let it show on her face. Abby would not thank her for the teasing.

Abby would not thank her for much these days. The initial animosity had worn away, but there was still a tension between them. Ziva knew what it was. She recognized the longing looks Abby directed at her back, thinking she would not notice, but Mossad training had taught Ziva to see even in her blind spots and she saw all. Still, until Abby directed a longing look directly at her… Until Abby was aware of her own feelings for her and willing to act on them of her own accord, Ziva would not embarrass her or push her. To do so would only drive her away.

Odd how Abby could run so many tests to determine the make up of so many things, and yet she still had not determined the make up of her own anxiety around the Israeli.

Oh well, something to think about another time.

They had finished the case and were all looking forward to a whole weekend off.
“Planning anything tonight?” DiNozzo asked, trying to look disinterested and failing.
“Oh you know, hot date,” Ziva responded
DiNozzo dropped the casual pretense and looked annoyed, “Yeah? What’s he like?”
“SHE’s from Central America and that’s all YOU need to know,” She smiled her all knowing smile and watched as his mind panted to catch up. His mouth hung open while he re-caged the horny little hamster that powered his brain.

“Um - ah,” He smiled thinking he caught her joke, “Yeah right. Well if you don’t want to tell me I don’t want to know, I was just trying a little polite conversation.” He sniffed and threw a file in his desk drawer feigning offence. Little did he know… She glanced over at McGee who was pretending to be absorbed in his computer screen, but grinning just the same.

Ziva heard the elevator ding and turned to see Abby moving toward them, even taller than usual. How she could walk in those boots she didn’t know, but it was impressive. She bounced up to them, “Ducky,Palmer,LeeandIaregoingfordrinksyouguyswanttocomealong?” Damn! And Abby would be awake half the night judging by the low blood content in her caffeine system.

“Well, I’ll come out with you, but Ziva already has plans with a Latina goddess so she can’t make it.” DiNozzo smirked. Fucker. Ziva glared daggers at him.

Abby looked at Ziva with a mixture of disappointment and jealousy. Unable to back out of it now Ziva looked at her and nodded, “I already have plans tonight, but definitely another time.” Hoping somehow Abby would understand how sorry she really was that she couldn’t go along.

“I’ll be there too,” McGee chimed in, Abby brightened and smiled. Lucky little monkey. He had no idea how jealous Ziva was of him and his special place in Abby’s heart. Even though Ziva could tell that for all intents and purposes their romantic connection had finished some time ago.

“Well, I’m off,” Ziva said, grabbing her bag. “Happy weekend.” She gave Abby a look, which lasted just a little longer than she intended it to, and went home.

*****

“YOU HAVE THE EMOTIONAL LATITUDE AND CONTROL OF A TODDLER!” Ziva shouted as she slammed the car door. She was outside of her apartment, and this woman needed to go before she got hit and found out what her own teeth tasted like. Luckily for her she got it, and peeled off into the night. Pausing to take in her surroundings Ziva realized she was being watched and stepped into the shadows. Looking across the street she saw a car that was unfamiliar to her in the neighborhood, but not at work. If Abby was casing the place she should definitely borrow someone else’s car. She ought to know that the hearse sticks out everywhere, even in the dark. Concealing herself she moved from shadow to shadow to the rear of the vehicle.

Silently walking up to the driver’s side window from the rear of the car, Ziva decided to scare the hell out of the lab tech. Abby of all people would probably appreciate it, and maybe even be impressed. Abby’s face was pointed away, still searching the shadows where Ziva had disappeared. Reaching into the window she brushed Abby’s cheek while she said, “Hi!” into her ear.

Dodging the expected arm swing, she stood back and waited for Abby to recover.

“SHIT!” Abby exclaimed, “HOLY shit. Ziva what the hell?”

“I could say the same to you,” Ziva smiled, “you are camped outside of MY apartment.”

“I – um – Just coming over to say hi…If you were home…and uh alone,” She winced knowing how lame she sounded. “Sooo, I take it the date didn’t go well?”

“Yeah,” said Ziva and rolled her eyes.

“Was that really a DATE date? Or were you just messing with DiNozzo?” Abby asked.

“Both,” Ziva smiled again, this time holding her gaze a bit too long hoping Abby would figure it out, hoping Abby wouldn’t chicken out now that she was here.

“Both huh?” Abby’s face flushed and it was apparent even in the orange streetlights. Her features shifted, as if she was doing complex calculations in her mind.

“Would you like to come in for a drink?” Ziva finally asked, hoping the Goth would rise to the challenge.

“Um, sure, why not?” Abby responded after a pause. “But do you have any tea? I didn’t feel like drinking tonight after all.”

Ziva smiled as Abby got out of her car and followed her up the stairs to her apartment. She retrieved her keys from her pocket and unlocked her door in one fluid movement pretending not to notice Abby watching her hands. She held the door for Abby and caught her eye as she passed the door’s threshold, closing and locking the door behind them. Throwing the lock she commented “and now we’re safe.”

“I always feel safe with you Ziva,” Abby said offhandedly as she looked around the room. Ziva smiled - that was her hope. Since meeting Abby she had been attracted and felt just a little protective, even though she knew Abby was fully capable of protecting herself. Her place was probably much warmer than Abby expected, filled with rich colors. She wasn’t sure what Abby would expect, now she thought of it, but usually people seemed to think she lived in something just shy of a Spartan cell. Ziva allowed herself to look around too, but surreptitiously watched the other woman as well. Deliberately looking straight up as Abby approached, she allowed the Goth just within arm’s reach before dropping her gaze and trapping her. Abby’s light eyes were lost instantly in dark pools that seemed to capture and subvert the all of the light from the room.

Smiling again Ziva released her gaze and moved toward the kitchen, “What kind of tea do you like.” She stopped when she felt a hand on her forearm, she allowed herself to be turned back around and lead to the sofa.

Abby looked at her seriously, none of the bubbly frivolity usually found on her face was there. “This isn’t a good idea,” she said, her jaw working.

“What isn’t a good idea?” Ziva baited, leaning forward like a conspirator, just inside Abby’s personal space.

“I..” Abby interrupted herself instead and reached forward, pulling Ziva to her lips. Her lips were warm and soft. Ziva allowed Abby to explore, to penetrate her mouth before returning and deepening the kiss. Running her hand up to Abby’s neck she felt the tension drain from the muscles in the Goth’s shoulders.

Ziva leaned back on the couch, drawing Abby’s weight on top of her. Abby sighed into her and broke the kiss to trail her lips down Ziva’s neck. Ziva closed her eyes and arched her body into her. The Goth moved down and nipped at Ziva’s nipple through her shirt.

Ziva caught her breath, “You have been with a woman before?”

Abby looked up at her and smiled, “yes, but no one like you,” she looked away, a little shy now, and continued, “you kinda scare me.”

“That is not my intent with you – I… that just happens,”

“C,mon you know I like it. You don’t scare me because I think you will be violent or anything. It’s your intensity, your power rolling just beneath the calm surface. The way you warm a room when you smile. The way your eyes shine when you pin someone with your gaze. You barely have to move to show how powerful you are, whether you are using that power to intimidate or calm, it’s always there,” Abby shifted her weight, “but now I’m rambling.”

“No no, go on,” Ziva joked. Abby laughed…

Ziva reached up and cupped half that smile in her hand, drawing Abby’s mouth to hers once again.

madfoxzz @ 2007-09-19T06:32:00

2007-09-19T11:36:48Z

WooHoo! Tampons for geek dykes! Too bad they wouldn't come with the kick ass armor

Fanfic "The Fire Inside"

2007-09-10T01:55:00Z

The Fire Inside
Sidle/Curtis
Disclaimer: *sigh* you know that if I owned these characters that you’d be seeing this on film right? Right. They are owned by a lot of other people but they aren’t mine.
Spoilers: Parallel universe after “Living Doll” 7x24 but no specific details/spoilers
Rating: MA – NC-17 for femslash and smutty smut smut :p. WARNING: There is some plot though ☺
Archive: Just ask :)

It was a grizzly case, but after what Sara’s been through, maybe she needs to let herself feel alive…

Sara sighed and looked at Sofia. “I hate when it’s kids”.

Sofia looked down at the charred remains through what used to be the doorframe of a shack in the mountains outside of Vegas. Smoke and ash swirled and drifted through the air, made worse by a morning air conversion over the valley. The flame front of the wildfire was miles away, but the pressing weight of the smoke brought with it a choking sense of unease.

“Mice with matches,” Sofia commented.
“Kids playing with fire?” Sara said, “Yeah, maybe, but the fire investigator said there were inconsistencies and wanted us to look closer.”
“Mmmm. Like this V pattern from accelerant on the outside wall here?” Sofia crouched down and studied the blackened wall. “Why would kids playing set fire to the outside wall and then go inside? Most accidental fire starters see it is out of their control and run away, hide or both…but they don’t hang around to get caught and they certainly don’t go inside the burning building if they had just lit the outside wall. The investigator said the wildfire originated with this shack?” Sara nodded. “So they didn’t start the fire somewhere else and run here to hide…”

Sara stood outside of the motel room she was sharing with Sofia and hesitated. It shouldn’t matter - they were both women, both adults, no reason to try hunting down another room when most places were full of hikers and campers flushed off the mountain by the blaze. So why was she hesitating? If she was completely honest with herself it was because Sofia’s gaze had locked on hers when they had pulled over to look at the map on the way up here. They had been crowded close to each other and the hood of the truck trying to keep the map from blowing away when Sofia had laughed and looked up. Their gazes locked and… and Sara didn’t know what she had seen for certain. She had had that feeling in the pit of her stomach before now, but she had ignored it. It was simple enough when one didn’t have a social life to speak of.

Now though, things were different…after nearly being killed she had spent a lot of time with nothing to do but think. She had decided life is too short. She broke up with Grissom the next day because she could no longer wait for him to figure out how to express his feelings, and she was no longer sure of her own. How can you be with someone who counts a sneeze as an emotion? She had followed his logic on that obtuse point…but still.

She had unconsciously watched Sofia since she had come to Vegas CSI, craved those blue eyes turning in her direction, feeling a leap of joy when showing up at a crime scene to see she was there. If she saw Sofia before the scene, before the blood, before she had to focus on making order out of death and chaos, the day always seemed to go along better.

Not that she would ever actually do anything about this feeling. Sofia was her co-worker and probably not interested anyway. She just didn’t let her thoughts wander too far and focused on the work. Maybe someday she’d meet a woman and live happily ever after. Until then, at least figuring out that she just wasn’t interested in being physical with men explained why she had always cut Grissom off when he actually tried to express a feeling. Deep down, she didn’t want to be closer to him. Maybe she was in love with the idea of him more than the actual physical…details.

Sara brought her mind back to slightly more pleasant, if unrequited pastures. Sofia had looked up into her eyes and she thought she had seen something else for a second. But she didn’t dare believe it. True, they’d grown in their friendship, and developed a sound working relationship... They’d even gone running a few times recently. Sofia was very patient with how slow Sara had gotten after the injury and rehab, but not overly attentive. Sara had never gotten that vibe from her until today, but they’d never been so close either. An unbidden thought entered her mind of Sofia’s side pressed against her and her voice in her ear as they had looked at that map. It made the back of her neck prickle uncomfortably.

Normally nothing could distract her from a case, but living through the ordeal she had wasn’t normal either. She just needed to focus. She closed her eyes, and shook those thoughts out of her head. Believing that she had talked herself down, she grabbed the doorknob. It was instantly ripped from her hand. Her eyes flew open and there stood Sofia inches from her face.

They both took a step back.

“What are you doing out here? I thought you were just going to grab a file. You’ve been out here for like, 20 minutes,” Sofia asked, a bemused look surfaced on her face. She smiled her crooked smile and cocked her head to the side waiting for an answer. Sara composed herself, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Sofia held up the ice bucket and indicated the ice machine a few doors down the outside wall, “Ice,” she said.

Sara stood unmoved trying to casually not look at Sofia’s face, which would have worked fine if her gaze hadn’t continued to try to rest elsewhere on the blonde’s body. Sofia’s smile grew bigger at Sara’s new behavior. “I need to…,” the blonde looked around the doorframe Sara was blocking and back at her, “unless you want to…Here,” She pressed the ice bucket into Sara’s hands.

Trying to grip the bucket and her file Sara snapped out of her daze, “Oh yeah, sure. Is that ankle bothering you?”
“Not bad. It’ll be fine, but I think I’d better ice it so it doesn’t stiffen up.
“Well here,” Sara handed her the case file, “I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks,” Sofia said to Sara’s back. Laughing to herself, she closed the door without latching it, then turned and flopped down on the bed, pausing before grabbing the TV remote to stuff a pillow under her twisted ankle.

Outside scooping the ice into the bucket Sara reprimanded herself. “You idiot,” She mumbled, “What do you think you’re doing?” The ice rattled angrily in the bottom of the plastic bucket, “I’ll tell you what you’re doing…you’re being an idiot!”

“You know,” said a voice to her left, “answering your own questions is the first sign of madness.”

Startled, Sara looked up and saw an elderly man standing in the doorway of his room smoking a cigarette. She saluted him with the ice bucket as she walked past him and back to the room. “Thanks for that,” she said with a sarcastic smile, “That’s just what I needed to worry about.”

“Just sayin’.” He called after her.
“Yeah, ‘just sayin’,” Sara muttered back as she opened the room door.
Sofia looked up, “Who are you talking to?”
Sara looked over, gave her a tired smile and sighed, “Myself.” She grabbed a handful of ice and added, “Here, let me find a bag for you to put this in.”
Sofia smiled back, “Thanks.”

Sara turned away from the window that separated the observation room from the interrogation room burning with fury. She watched the Fletchers being lead away past the door as Sofia entered.

“Who the fuck do they think they are?” Sara spat, “Taking those kids lives as if they didn’t mean anything but a monthly check from the state? They mean something. They could have grown up to be Doctors or pilots or writers… or anything.” Tears jumped to her eyes, “Or criminalists.” She held her palm to her forehead and tried to choke back the tears. A sob stuck in her throat and hurt, her body shook. “Foster kids mean something. They are something special.”

What Sara was saying and why she got so angry and vehement about this case dawned on Sofia. Of course, she must have been a foster child. She took Sara’s shoulders and turned to look her square in the face. “Of course they are something. And you are something special too. Those people are going away for a long time. That is if they avoid the death penalty, and you put them there. They won’t hurt any more kids Sara, because of you. Josh, Jarren and Sandy are gone, but think of all the kids you saved.” Sofia searched Sara’s shining eyes and said more softly, “Ok? You are someone special Sara.” Her nerve failed and she looked down. They hadn’t ever been quite this close and it only intensified the feelings she had been trying to ignore. She wanted to comfort and protect this woman more than anything.

Sara knew Sofia was right, and it was jarring how quickly she had understood Sara’s words. Her anger dissipated. Her eyes still shining she looked down at the top of Sofia’s head. She reached up and touched the blonde’s chin. Sofia looked back up and Sara was finally sure of what she saw there. She swallowed and ran her finger up the line of the blonde’s jaw.

Sofia squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled, the tension visibly draining from her shoulders and face as the air escaped her mouth. She had wanted that touch so long… She opened her eyes and took Sara’s hand away. “Sara, don’t…..don’t start something you aren’t sure you want.”

Holding her gaze, Sara raised her other hand and ran it up the back of the blonde’s neck and into her hair. Leaning forward, she brushed Sofia’s lips with her own. Her breath quickened and Sofia made a noise in her throat. Pulling back an inch, eyes searching Sara’s face, Sofia asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Sara whispered urgently, her eyes as black as a mountain night.

Letting go of her hand, Sofia leaned through the space between them and kissed her. Soft lips meeting soft lips, gently at first, but soon they were crashing into each other, mouths searching for more, tongues seeking entry. A hunger for another Sara had never known and as Sofia’s tongue passed her lips the want flared in her chest. Their bodies drew together and for a second neither was sure she would ever be able to pull away. Sofia reveled in the taste of Sara’s mouth, the smell of her hair and the feel of her breasts crushed into her chest just above her own. She felt Sara’s breath catch and realized she was holding her own as well. When they did pull apart, they were both breathless and panting.

“I…We should - probably…” Sofia said motioning toward the file on the table behind Sara.

“Yeah, let’s… get out of here,” Sara said picking up the folder, then more quietly she added, “We still have that hotel room for another night… It’s a long drive back to the city and we’re both pretty tired…maybe we should rest before heading out.”

“Um, yeah,” Sofia said, trying not to think about what Sara was or was not implying. She turned and walked out, Sara followed. It didn’t take long for them to sign off on the forms and log the evidence in. As Sara watched the clerk carry away the last box, the gravity of the case hit her again. She sighed heavily and Sofia looked up with an expression of concern.

“I’m ok,” Sara said noticing Sofia’s look, and propped a smile up on her face.

Sofia was unconvinced. “Let’s go,” she said handing the form to the clerk. She heard him stamp the paper as the door swung shut behind them.

They walked to the truck without speaking. As Sara slid into the passenger seat Sofia broke the silence, “Ok, so what was that sigh about.”

“Oh it’s a lot of things I guess,” Sara said heavily. “Everything those kids were, everything that anyone will remember of them is in those evidence boxes locked away in storage.” She paused, “and maybe a little survivor’s guilt too. My foster parents were all kind. It wasn’t the happiest thing, but at least there was…well is…people in this world that cared for me and encouraged me. These kids didn’t have anyone like that.” As Sara finished they pulled into the motel parking lot. Getting out of the truck she smiled a real smile this time and added, “Thanks for letting me talk it out. I feel better.”

Sofia stopped at the motel room door and looked up, studying the sunset. It was blood red from the smoke and ash of the wildfire in the atmosphere. She’d been burned before, she thought with a wry smile, no pun intended, and she didn’t want to make the same mistake again. “Sara…If you want to be alone before we go back, I could find another room or sleep in the truck. You’ve been through a lot recently…” She trailed off, realizing she was speaking as much to herself as to Sara.

Sara stepped around Sofia and turned to face her. The red of the sunset glowed in Sofia’s blond hair. She was beautiful and tough, kind – but didn’t take crap from anyone. She was the kind of person Sara was and wanted to be all rolled into one, and she smelled and tasted like…spearmint? Must be the gum since neither of them wore perfume as it interfered with the job, but it was nice all the same. Sara smiled into her eyes, “I’m really alright. Please let me feel something good, something light – something alive.”

Sara licked her lips and Sofia thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

“Please. I survived,” Sara continued, “but I haven’t really felt like I am still alive until now. I want to be with you.” With that Sara took a step forward, forcing Sofia back and into the door. Sofia’s head hit Sara’s hand before it hit the wood. Sara pressed in tasting her lips and sliding her tongue between Sofia’s teeth when all of the other woman’s muscles seemed to melt. Sara smiled as Sofia’s weight pushed against her, desire rising in her throat. She broke away and brushed her lips across a cheek, running them down and savoring her neck.

As Sofia tipped her head to the side, Sara pulled the collar of her shirt aside and nibbled her shoulder. The blond took a deep breath, shoved her hand in her pocket, fished out the key and somehow got it into the lock beside her. She turned the knob and they broke apart as they nearly fell into the room. Sara reached back and slammed the door behind them.

“Madness…,” the old man said, leaning against his doorframe again, smoking and listening to the ice machine crunch. He flicked an ash on the sidewalk and with a self satisfied smile he added, “I told her so.”

Sara faced Sofia as the door slammed, suddenly unsure. So far everything made sense. It felt natural, but where to from here?

Sofia understood the confused look Sara was giving her. Stepping close again she whispered, “Have you been with a woman before?”

Sara’s gaze dropped, studying Sofia’s body. Now that she admitted this desire, she craved the place where her neck became her shoulder, the rise of her breasts under the white button down shirt, her hips and long, strong legs. She wanted to touch this woman, to hear her moan in pleasure, not frighten her off or appear inept, but she answered with an honest, “No,” and looked up to meet her eyes again.

Sofia saw the worry in those eyes, “That’s ok, we’ll go slow. If you feel uncomfortable tell me.” She reached out and cupped Sara’s cheek, drawing her close again.

Sara swallowed, fighting back a sigh of relief, “Ok,” she said, not mentioning that the most discomfort she was feeling right now was the burning desire to get to Sofia’s skin.

Sofia advanced; she grabbed Sara’s wrists and held them against the door next to her ears as she devoured her lips. Pressing her full weight against Sara, she slid a thigh between her legs. Sara moaned and settled against it, her hips shifting in an achingly slow rhythm. Sofia felt Sara’s temperature rise.

Sara felt it as a slow smoldering heat under her skin, nerves firing like cinders in the wind, landing and setting new fires within her.

Sofia released a hand to brush a lock of brown hair off of Sara’s neck. Trailing her fingers over her skin, she left Sara’s lips and blew a puff of air into her ear. Her teeth found the edge, which she kissed and nibbled. She gave it a little tug before she let it go causing Sara to growl. Moving down she pressed little circles in Sara’s throat with her tongue, tasting the Nevada sun sweat on her flesh.

Breathless Sara reached behind Sofia, her fingertips finding the metal badge, the leather gun holster and finally settling on the back of Sofia’s shirt, which she pulled free. Sliding her palm over Sofia’s skin, her breath constricted and she panted, “I want to feel you inside me,” in Sofia’s ear, pressing herself harder into the blonde’s thigh.

Sofia gasped, “You will.” Sara let out an open mouthed whimper and reached up finding the clasp of Sofia’s bra. Taking it in her fingers she popped it open. Sofia pulled her attention from Sara’s neck and sighed as the same hand crept across her ribs and over her breast. Toying with a nipple, Sara covered the blonde’s mouth with her own. She pinched a little harder and felt Sofia’s moan on her lips.

Sofia pulled back and saw the light in Sara’s eyes. She no longer had any doubt as to whether this was what Sara really wanted. Releasing Sara’s other hand she reached up and loosed the first button of Sara’s shirt letting her fingertips linger on her collarbone. With both hands free Sara took the back of Sofia’s shirt again and pulled it up over her head, dropping it on the floor next to them.

With a thinly veiled smile Sofia turned serious and pressed into Sara again, her thigh creating another shock of pleasure through Sara’s clit, who moaned and leaned into it. Forehead to forehead the blond said, “No fair,” and reached behind Sara, grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her ears. Stepping back she appraised the brunette as she let her bra slide the rest of the way off her arms and onto the floor.

Sara, feeling the other woman’s gaze roll over her like a tangible heat, simply stood and waited. Kneeling down Sofia placed her hands on Sara’s hips and kissed her lowest rib sliding her hands up over the soft skin of her lower back. Sara heard the thump of her head hitting the door as her body involuntarily arched toward the warmth of Sofia’s mouth. Standing slowly, she trailed her lips up Sara’s ribcage, to her sternum and finally to her collarbone. She pressed her full weight against Sara again, only this time it was skin to skin. Sara whimpered as Sofia whispered, “I think it would be safer if we got you somewhere with a little padding…the bed perhaps?”

Feeling Sofia’s nipples pressed against her bare skin was almost more than her mind could comprehend so Sara simply made a noise of assent. Taking her hand Sofia lead her to the edge of the bed and sat her down. She caressed Sara’s shoulders, as Sara reached up and touched Sofia’s cheek, studying her face. Sofia reached around behind her to unhook her bra and Sara leaned in and kissed her hard. She felt her bra open and Sofia’s nails down the length of her back. Taking Sara’s shoulders again the blond pressed her down until she imprinted the mattress.

Sofia kissed Sara’s clavicle, followed the hollow down and breathed over the brunette’s breast. A muffled whine came from Sara’s throat as the blonde ran her tongue over the tip of her breast and paused to take it into her mouth. Sucking in the tight knot of flesh, her hands moving to Sara’s belt, seeking entry.

Arching her back into Sofia’s mouth Sara found her voice, “I am so wet for you.”

“Mmmm,” sighed Sofia smiled, taking her time, making Sara wait as her lips traveled across her midsection, pulling one side of her jeans down and kissing her hipbone. “But I want to explore every inch of you first - and I’m on top.”

Sara groaned and sat up. Grabbing hold of the blonde’s shoulders she rolled her over and pinned her to the bed. “I don’t think you understand.” She said to Sofia’s smiling, surprised face, “I think I’ve waited long enough, and I don’t want to be pushy, but,” She let her eyes roam over the other woman’s naked torso, and took a deep breath, “you drive me crazy.”

Smiling up at Sara the blonde thought about all of the things she could do to this woman, and settled on more than a few. She liked her, she was smart, hot headed and went for what she wanted - even if that made her impatient - it was still sexy as hell. “Then be crazy Sara,” she said.

Sara leaned in and lightly kissed her lips, then progressed down, laying those lips over a nipple here, a rib there, then nipped at the blonde’s side only pausing when she found denim. She slid off the side of the bed to kneel and smiling she grabbed the belt with her teeth and pulled it loose. She bit and shook the button loose and then grabbed the zipper and pulled it down. She kissed and ran her tongue over the coarse hair she revealed as she slowly wiggled the clothing free from Sofia’s body. Moving down to kiss her inner thigh Sara pulled her own pants free. Sara could smell how wet Sofia was and she wanted more, but Sofia sat up and gently pushed her back.
“Can I look at you?” She said.
“Um, yes,” Sara stood and Sofia caught her breath.

Reaching out she pulled Sara on top of her, “You are exquisite,” she said in Sara’s ear as Sara pulled herself up on her hands and knees above her smiling back.

“Thank you, but you see, now I’m on top and I…” Sara didn’t get to finish her sentence as her weight-bearing arm was pulled out from underneath her and Sofia rolled on top.
“You don’t play fair,” Sara gasped as Sofia straddled her.
“No, maybe not,” Sofia said with a mischievous grin. Sara tried the same maneuver but Sofia simply rocked her weight back on her knees and caught Sara’s hand. She brought the wrist up to her lips and began to suck and nibble it while sinking down to find Sara’s clit. Setting Sara’s hand free, she took a lick and heard the sharp hiss of inhaled breath from her lover. The sound spurred her on; she plunged her mouth into Sara and with the flat of her tongue pulled her clit into her mouth. Sara’s leg muscles rolled and Sofia held on, sliding her arms under Sara’s thighs and wrapping them around her hips.

She lapped and sucked as Sara gasped and moaned.

She let go of one of Sara’s thighs and slid two fingers inside her. Groaning Sara ignited and arched against her. She moaned each time the blonde slid inside. Sofia smiled and continued her ministrations, lapping and sucking, the sounds coming from the other woman fueling her, getting her wetter with each stroke. “Harder…” Sara breathed, Sofia plunged her face and hand in deeper, “oh yess – don’t stop,” the blond could feel Sara’s muscles tensing, “Please, please, please, don’t stop,” Sara pleaded then caught her breath.

Sofia felt the warm wetness clamp around her fingers as the rest of Sara’s muscles flexed and spasmed. She placed her hand on Sara’s stomach and when Sara was still and panting up at the ceiling, gave her a final lap. Sara’s muscles quivered. Sofia grabbed a handful of cheap motel sheet and pulled it over them as she slid the full length of her body up the brunette’s. She placed an arm under the brunette’s head and held her close until her breath slowed.

When her eyes finally agreed to focus Sara looked into Sofia’s face. “Mmmm,” she sighed and smiled. The blonde smiled back. “Kiss me,” Sara whispered.

Surprised, Sofia hesitated, “Are you sure you…” Sara reached up and pulled her down muffling the next words with her lips. Sofia’s taste mingled with her own in her mouth. When their lips parted, more than anything she wanted to know what Sofia tasted like too.

She pushed up, got her elbows underneath her and, rolled the blond over to lay on top of her. She straddled Sofia’s thigh and pressed herself into it. Sofia moaned and Sara could see the conflict in her eyes. “Sara…I…”

Sara pressed her thigh firmly against Sofia’s hot core, letting the heat sync into her skin, and leaned over, whispering in the other woman’s ear, “What do I have to do to convince you this is what I want? Why are you fighting what you want? Please let me, guide me.”

Sofia bit the inside of her cheek and consented. Sara leaned over and encircled a nipple with her lips. Bringing them together and then pulling them away she blew cold air over it and watched the skin clench. Stroking the other with her hand she descended taking it all in her mouth sliding it back down her tongue slowly as Sofia shuddered. Nipping at one, she lightly pinched the other and the blond let out another moan.

Sara trailed her lips over Sofia’s skin as she moved down. Looking up when got back to the small patch of blond hair, she found those blue eyes watching her. Locking that gaze she leaned down and parted Sofia’s folds, drawing the flat of her tongue in a long stroke over her clit.

Sofia clenched her teeth, but a stifled shout still escaped as her body shuddered. Sara rolled her tongue over and lapped, Sofia’s hips rocked, pressing into Sara’s hungry mouth.

Sara reached her hand up and drew it back down Sofia’s side. Sofia took it and folded the two smaller fingers over. Sara took her hand away and placed it just inside, just so the blonde could feel it, but not penetrating, not yet. Now that she knew what to do she wanted to hear Sofia scream.

Sofia’s back arched, she panted and each breath caught in her throat. “Please Sara,” she begged. She reached down and took a handful of Sara’s hair, pulling her face away. Sara looked up and saw eyes like ice pleading with her.

“Sara please,” Sofia’s voice was husky and breathless, “Fuck me.”

Sara was torturing her. Her hand didn’t move as Sofia pulled her back up to her own mouth. Just as their lips met Sara delved inside causing Sofia to shatter and let out a cry. An array of tingles exploded through her and her muscles tightened around Sara’s fingers.

Sara watched Sofia’s face as the blonde closed her eyes. She pulled out and pressed back inside hard. Sofia’s breath caught and she arched again against Sara’s body. Repeating this motion, letting Sofia set the tempo, she enveloped the blonde’s mouth with her own. Her tongue sought and gained entry to Sofia’s mouth as her hand pressed down harder. She moved her fingers inside. Sofia cried out into her lips.

Catching a breath she whispered, “more…” Looking up she saw Sara’s eyes were black, all of her focus on the blonde beneath her hand. Without moving a muscle in her face, Sara added a third finger and pressed back inside. Sofia’s pace increased. Sara responded pushing inside her still further. Sofia felt her muscles clench, orgasm building. She drove her hips down and gasped. Behind closed eyes she saw sparks dance as her muscles shuddered, her breath held.

Watching, Sara’s chest tightened as Sofia bit her lip and the muscles relaxed across the blonde’s face. Then Sofia’s smile teased her lips again. Sara moved over to lie beside her and held her as their breathing stilled.
As Sofia snuggled into the hollow of Sara’s throat and faded to sleep, she hoped this was real.
Sara hoped they hadn’t just really screwed up their friendship.

Both women realized that they were willing to try.

Energy alternatives

2007-08-21T10:35:56Z

I was just reading more on alternative energy. Wind and solar look the most promising with the least unintentional side effects, but they'd have to be supplemented...

But it got me thinking. With all of this frontal lobe in our brains that supposedly differentiates us from animals and leads to consciousness, we can't seem to get out of the mindset of burning stuff. One of the first technological advances our species made, being able to start a fire for personal use, and yet thousands of years later we are still burning stuff.

We use glorified campfires to fuel our personal vehicles and to power our lights. And we don't just burn anything, but stuff we dig out of the ground that took longer than we have been sentient for the earth to make. When engineers built coal burning power plants 100 years ago they would never have conceived that we'd still be using them today because it is more 'cost efficient' than coming up with new, cleaner, energy efficient ideas.

We then use that power to make things that we later throw away and wait for it....burn. Actually landfills are more utilized than incinerators, but you get my point.

I don't see why we don't just give all the dogs matches and absolve ourselves from existing on this planet at all.

I-35W Fallen Silence

2007-08-08T07:02:05Z

The collapse of I-35W has effected many of us in the Minneapolis community in different ways. We mourn for the loss of life and we feel the difference without this bridge. The city is quieter now for those of us under the bridge and behind the police tape.

8-2-07
I-35 Fallen Silence

The voice of the freeway has been silenced. Four hours after the collapse of I-35 into the Mississippi river I am on my bike, commuting to work, trying to find an alternate route like everyone else…even though I am rarely on that bridge crossing the river. Like so many other bikes, I am used to going under it.

Watching the news earlier, the aerial shots didn’t reflect my reality of this bridge lying across my own freeway, the bike freeway that is West River Parkway. This change in perspectives makes it difficult at first to visualize its location. Looking at it from above, and the distance of the helicopter like this, makes it seems like it happened in some other city, to some other people. But it happened here, to us.

On my way home in the morning, 13 hours after the bridge came to the earth and water, I take the West River Parkway as far as I can. To the boardwalk, which has been barricaded, near the Stone Arch Bridge. A block up, the new, blue Gutherie stands with its unsupported lookout protruding toward the river and the fallen bridge, which is a further few blocks away, like an architectural accusatory finger. As if to say “If I can fly, why couldn’t you?”

I go up and around the Gutherie to Gold Medal Park. It’s a new park, reclaimed green space, the grass so thick and lush my shoe sinks in the turf past the sole. Centered in the park is a hill. The walkway to the top spirals around the rise. I ascend with the others, meeting the sad eyes of the people coming back down. Like pilgrims we are hushed, reverent, meditative. The bridge we took for granted yesterday, the noise of cars hissing and rumbling, the jackhammers, and some people... all gone. I step up with the rest to stand on the bench and shield my eyes from the rising sun. The trees and river bluff block the middle, but you can see both ends from this point, leaning at angles a bridge never should. Even though the concrete dust has settled, I feel the thickness of the silence settle over me.

I step down allowing someone else a turn.

On my bike I am much more open to sound than people in cars. As I curve back down the path and away from the tor, I hear bits of conversation.
“If I hadn’t gone back into my house for my sunglasses…”
“I just crossed that bridge minutes before…”
“I’m so glad I didn’t go home on time…”
All followed by the unspoken “…I would have been there, I would have fallen. I could be dead.”

Fallen with the bridge.

This perception of the bridge, much like the aerial shots, is distant from my reality of this place, and makes it hard to locate their perspective.

If I had been there, I would not have fallen. I would have been on the bike path below, not fallen, but dropped upon. Would a person on the bicycle path of the River Road have been able to get out from under it fast enough? Gliding down the hill maybe, but laboring up it? Maybe not. Would I have heard the crack and rumbling from above as a warning and not just more road or construction noise? Would I have been looking up at the web tangle of green steel supports we took for granted were strong and seen them buckle toward me? Would my bike helmet have protected me from falling concrete and rebar?

Going back to work, 28 hours after the collapse. I cross the river on Plymouth and look up at the moon as it hangs in the sky, next to the glow downriver of the work lights, making day from night, as the recovery effort continues. The silence of the fallen still conspicuous in my ears, the freeway has died, and taken with it people we will hold in our hearts.

The fallen speak in silence tonight.

Written by: Fox

New Vid

2007-08-08T06:54:55Z

Let Sara Sidle LOOSE!

2007-06-22T13:06:26Z

abby/ziva "going down" fanfic

2007-06-19T02:59:08Z

Pairing: Abby/Ziva
Title: “Going Down” (yes it’s cheesy, but it takes place in an elevator, what am I supposed to call it? ;)
Spoilers: None really, this happens somewhere in season 3
Archive: Just ask
Author: Fox
Disclaimer: Of course I don’t own them, I just like to fiddle with them. Some people play with dolls… I don’t claim to speak through any official channels for the show, production company, or actors and there is no profit being made.
Rating: MA - NC-17. Yes it’s smut, there is a little substance - but mostly smut, femsmut to be specific. Don’t like it, don’t read it
Author’s note: Honest critique welcome, but please be gentle, I’m new.

“What is your problem?” Ziva asks me.
She is in my space again. All of that “Moussad” (Whoop de doo) training… she surely has to know that being in close proximity to her drives me nuts.

Hopefully she just thinks it is just pissing me off, but it gets me so hot at the same time. I scowl at her, just because I want to fuck her doesn’t mean I’d give her the satisfaction. Everyone knows I have a brutal stubborn streak, but they don’t know how deep it runs - nor should they.
“Nothing.” I retort.
“Then what the hells?”
“Hell. Just one,” I fire back at her holding up a finger, and I’m in it.…but Ha! I corrected her English. That always annoys her. Not because we correct her as much as it makes her realize she doesn’t know everything and we know she doesn’t. A little payback!

She remains inches from my face though. She’s still annoyed, but a smile creeps up her face, almost like an animal being set loose from a cage, still wary, but free - and it knows where it’s going next.

Uh oh, she just ran her tongue over her lower lip. Oh why does she have to do that? The things a glimpse of that tongue does to me…

Shit, she knows. That’s why she did it. I can see it in her eyes. She knows that when she’s this close I just want to jump her, let her flip me over and have her way with me. Well if she can’t tell from my breathing, she can certainly hear my heart ramming against my sternum. I close my eyes and try to re-center but I can still feel her soft breath on my face.

“So what’s the story Abby?” She almost purrs almost to my mouth. I feel a flush creep up my neck.

I open my eyes and stare into two pools of night.

I hear the elevator ding. “Gibbs!” I blurt out. In the blink of an eye Ziva is 4 ft away looking at an evidence bag. Grrr.

“Ziva?” He asks.

“I don’t know Gibbs. She wouldn’t tell me anything until you got here.”
She twirled the evidence in her fingers. I walk over, take it from her, and put it back in its place on the table. She smirks and I have to pause a second to remember what I was doing. This is serious damnit!

I run it down: DNA - no hits yet in CODIS. Trace – trilobal fibers in the tape - the color suggests Ford Taurus 1992-95. Fingerprints - two partials - ran them through the federal crimnal database and got a Michael Sandstrom. He has a record, assault with a deadly weapon, first successful conviction in Minnesota under the ’93 state hate crimes law covering transgendered persons for attacking a transsexual man outside a club in downtown Minneapolis while yelling “God Hates Fags”.
“He hit him with a 2x4 and stomped on his hands Gibbs,” I finished. I really want to nail this guy to the wall, I don’t care where your politics lean, no one deserves that, and what he did to petty officer Johnston was even worse…We’ve gotta get this psycho off the street.

“Good work Abbs. Ziva,” Says Gibbs and gives her the hand signal to follow.
“Of course,” I say, “this is what I do and I do it well.”
As he walks out, Ziva follows. When his back is turned she sends me a smoldering look that says she isn’t finished with me yet. It jars me back out of science mode and I can feel the heat from that gaze melting everything off me from lab coat to tattoos, into a pool around my boots. Maybe I’ll worry less about not giving her the satisfaction and more about getting some satisfaction of my own…

I entered the elevator going over the case in my head. We got the guy and he confessed. Well - while yelling homophobic epithets at Gibbs. Apparently anyone who isn’t willing to accept his idea of religious vengeance was gay, therefore beneath him and deserved to die. Too bad for him those he considered beneath him were going to throw him in prison for a very long time. Looking up at the numbers above the door I begin to run down the evidence and procedures in my head. No way this guy is going free on a technicality. The doors slide closed, but as the car starts moving downward it suddenly lurches to a stop and the much dimmer emergency lights come on. Crap, now what?

Startled by a whisper of a sound, I look down just in time to see her approach. She forces me against the back wall, grabs my wrists and pins them up above my head. With my boots on she has to tip her head up a bit to look into my face, but it doesn’t lessen her command of the situation.

Within a breath she is crushing her lips to mine and I gasp and moan into her. Our mouths fight for the upper hand, then her tongue slides between my lips and curls behind my teeth. I still and let her explore. Penetrating deep into my mouth she finds all of my secret places and makes me imagine what that mouth could do to my clit. She’s getting me so wet…

She straddles my leg and presses into me. My thigh flexes involuntarily against her, into her heat. My skirt is short enough that it’s my skin on her cargo pants. Oh yeah, she wants me too.

Taking my wrists with one hand she uses the other to ignite an electrical storm through me by plucking at my nipple through my shirt. My body arches against her touch but her grip on my wrists holds me in place. She pinches a little too hard. I squeak, and I want more. I want whatever she’ll give me.

She bites my bottom lip, and mumbles, “should we take this somewhere?”
“No,” I say firmly, she pulls back an inch and a brief look of dismay crosses her face, but I add, “Right here, right now.”

A growl comes from deep inside her and her teeth clamp down on the web tattooed along my neck as she pinches my nipple even harder. I hear a sound come out of me echo through the metal car, but I don’t care. I grind my hips into her, needing her touch, needing release.

Her hand leaves my breast and moves down to my thigh. She drags her nails up under my skirt to my hip leaving blazing trails in their wake. When she finds my Happy Bunny panties she pauses. She lets go of my wrists. Her accented voice is husky when she says in my ear, “I want taste you.” How long have I ached to hear her say that? A ridge of sweat rises from the base of my skull down my back. Mutely I nod.

Before I know it she takes me down and her weight is pressing me into the elevator floor. She kisses me again, her tongue and teeth punishing my lips. My hands find the skin of her back and I rake her skin so raw she arches and grinds hard into me, letting out a slow throaty sigh. Moving down she nips through my shirt and sucks any skin she finds. Pulling the hem of my shirt up she marks the flesh of my side with a bite.

Tangling my fists in her hair I try to lead her to my center, but she’ll have none of it. She’s not done torturing me.

Her tongue traces a line across to my belly button, which she probes, as her hand moves slowly up my inner thigh. I am saturated for her and she lets out a feral noise when she finds this. Gripping Happy Bunny she pulls down and dives under my skirt. Every muscle in my body flexes as her mouth clamps over my clit. My thighs squeeze together and my hips thrust toward her. Her fingers tease my opening as her tongue circles and laps; causing so much pressure in my chest I can’t breath.

When she pushes inside me another noise escapes and I buck, but she knows how to hold on. She rides with me, her fingers plunging faster and harder as her tongue puts more and more pressure on my clit, until all of my muscles freeze and I scream OH FUCK ME OH GOD - YES

The waves crash over me and the low light becomes even more hazy as my muscles spasm their delight. I feel her sigh and I relax, my thighs setting her free. Smiling up at me she slowly slides out and I quiver. She crawls up, lays next to me and holds me as my muscles turn to mush. I gather my senses one by one.

“We’re not done yet,” I say firmly, letting her know I will take her too…soon… when I get my bones back.
She helps me up and says something in Hebrew into my ear. Her voice and that language makes my skin prickle, it gives me gooseflesh. In response to my questioning look she locks my gaze, brings her fingers to her mouth and sucks me off of them.
I grab the rail for support and she smiles.
No, we’re not done yet.

The next morning…

“Did you get caught?” McGee asks.
I freeze, but just keep looking into the scope, “Huh?” I ask.
“The elevator was out last night just after you left. Did you get stuck in there? Everyone had to take the stairs,” McGee says.
“Oh, that’s terrible,” Says Ziva nonchalantly, I look up but she’s not looking at me. She is however rearranging my evidence bags. Grrr. She continues, “I’m sure the exercise didn’t hurt anyone though.” Fixing me with those black eyes she says, “Exercise is a good thing, yes?”
“Yes,” I say to her brightly, trying not to betray the lust still burning in me from last night, “And no,” I say to McGee turning and pointing at him, “It must’ve broken down just after we left…I left… me… no one else.”

Shit.

Drag kings

2007-05-15T12:44:29Z

Here is a video of a troupe I perform with. I'll leave it up to ur imagination which is me ;)
Why do we do it? Because we can.

PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY and VICTIMS

2007-05-09T11:15:25Z

So, I'm standing and waiting to speak to an acquaintance. Another man walks by who knows him. My acquaintance thanks the other for lending him a book about the bible.

Apparently this book "doesn't sugar coat what the bible says" etc etc... Whatever. I'll go off on a rant on the interpretation of religious texts over 2 thousand years old later.

The conversation between them progressed to personal responsibility and how being a victim is all fine and dandy but you can't use that as an excuse. You just "get over it and move on". Somewhere in the bible, apparently it says, "get over it and move on"? I don't remember that from Sunday school. Now, I get that when you are a victim, you need to find a way to go on. That if you turn around and make someone else a victim that you need to be held accountable...But because of attitudes like this, minimizing the scale of what it takes to actually do this, our society isn't structured to help people heal so they aren't prone to turning around and continuing the cycle of violence.

"Get over it and move on."

That is what is expected, but that is not how people function. They need time, understanding, they need to be able to express anger even rage, depression, bargaining, and avoidance before they can "move on", and when things happen to you, such as rape, you never "get over it". It is something you deal with, you never forget, but you survive. Guess where they should be able to turn to find these things...yep, Church. And yet who are the most vocal judges who blame victims for not being able to cope? Self-righteous church folk like these guys.
Yeah, not all churches are exclusionary, but the ones that are give them all a bad rep. When people use their religion to cover up their fear of people different from themselves and call it "morality" I have a big beef with 'em.

Now, here is what I saw through my eyes. Two white men, medium height, medium build, no disabilities (not even glasses), 30-45 years old, secure jobs, one recently divorced from an upper middle class background and the other maybe working class...Truly, I highly doubt that either of them have ever known what it is like to have been the victim in any circumstance. They probably have never even been mugged. The worst crime in their lives is someone stealing their lunch out of the break room fridge. Frankly, I doubt they have ever even had an open conversation with someone who has been a victim.

I know at least one of them thinks he is the victim of "reverse discrimination", and that the country is being taken over by godlessness, and yet any move the Democrats take to try to help people (gun control, birth control, state health care for the poor, even transportation infrastructure that doesn't involve getting his giant truck from the burbs to work faster during rush hour) is mis-spending and/or wasting funds which amounts to basically stealing money out of their pockets in the form of income and property taxes, because they don't see how it benefits them personally.

So, here we have these two, let's call them religiously grounded gentlemen, talking about other people and what they need to do after being a victim, somehow connecting this view to the bible, agreeing with each other how they are right and others are wrong. Never been a victim, but they are all over telling other people to cope. Then I think about all the white religiously grounded gentlemen in our government and cringe.

Moving on.

I'll say what my GenderQueer, dyke, woman born, poor but rather educated, rape and incest survivor, eyes see. A couple of asshats that use religion to feel superior. To feel like their lives spent grinding away for the almighty dollar for maybe a boat or a Harley is somehow more meaningful to their "God" than someone else's struggle to make sense of a world when someone has taken away or violated their personhood. These guys feel "victimized" if they don't get that boat or Harley. Really, I'm weeping for them on the inside.

I think my attitude toward these two boils down as this: Until you have spoken to someone who is different than you, who has been directly effected by those ever contentious "morality" issues (abortion, welfare, GLBT rights), you can have an opinion (opinions are like assholes, everyone has one...and this is mine), but you don't have the right to pass judgment or advocate a law until the people directly effected have been heard and understood. There is the common good and there is the humanity of each individual in this country to consider. If you aren't willing to do this, then keep your judgment for the pumpkins at the fair, stay out of public service, and if you don't want to help, then at least don't hinder efforts by people who are willing to help and be helped.

In the name of whatever version of almighty deity you happen to find most relevant, this I pray.

GSR vid

2007-05-04T10:34:18Z

Yeah, I geeked out and made a GSR fan vid. These two are the next best thing to femslash so..and yeah, I used Melissa Etheridge..

madfoxzz @ 2007-03-15T01:19:00

2007-03-15T06:21:07Z

Many people think 'sex', 'gender', 'sexual orientation' and 'masculine/feminine' behavior are all immutable and inborn traits that are determined by whatever parts the Dr. sees between our legs when we are born. Dr's don't do a chromosome check before they say 'male' or 'female'. One in three hundred births have some sort of sexual ambiguity and that's just biological variance. After that cursory biological proclamation people think they know everything that there is to know about how that person will act and feel in relation to others, who s/he will be attracted to, how s/he will dress, drive, communicate etc. I am surprised more people aren't ticked off by all these assumptions about ourselves that people make based on what they think our biological sex is. Granted most people take on the trappings of one gender or the other to make sure that we appear to others the way we see ourselves and it works. <lj-cut text="Read more">

But for some of us it doesn't work, some have surgery and go from living as one gender to the other, and other just opt to stay in the middle. Sometimes it is a dangerous place to be and parents worry, but I would be more of a danger to myself if I had to pretend I am something I am not every time I left my house. It would be mentally exhausting. When I am in the gas station paying for my soda and the clerk says 'can I help you Sir...Ma'am? Err' I don't feel I have to settle that question for them anymore. Does some random person need to know what's in my pants to sell me a Mtn. Dew? But society does need to know and some choose different options to be treated the way they wish to be treated. This is the strongest argument that sexism still exists, that we even need to know or care what gender someone else is.