Wow, Cameron, that NEVER happens when I take my car to the garage. Where is this Route 68 again?

Thanks for spicing up the holiday season.

Michelle

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My one and only wrecking ball
and you're crashing through my walls
~Brandi Carlile

*Mary glances at road map, trying desperately to find Route 68.*

Cam, how much do I love this story? ("I don't know, Mary, you'll need to tell me," Cam very reasonably replied.) You painted such a great picture, with so many wonderful details that just let me see the entire scene. I actually felt warm which, considering my current environs, is no small feat.

And the flirtatious banter, the double-entendres...The image of Tara asking Willow to make her purr---God, Cam, that whole exchange was delicious. I loved that it was Tara pushing most of the boundaries, getting right to the point with: (Line forms to the right, kids, line forms to the right.)

And then to find out that it was all a game--that was ingenious! I loved the whole revelation, the understated way your showed us what was actually going on. There was no build-up, no "Get ready, kids--here comes a surprise!" You just worked it into the scene. Wonderful.

And the gift itself...Damn, Cam. (Hey, I rhymed!)

Such a fantastic story. Thank you for sharing it with us!

Mary

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I always wanted to be somebody, but I realize now I should have been more specific. Lily Tomlin

Although I'm saving my major feedback until the end of the series, I just needed to comment on one thing.



Nice little nod to "Gold" there. I smiled when I read that.

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Avatar Images Courtesy of Kirari-PGSM.net
The Star Witches Saga | Under the Sea | The Moonlight Densetsu Chronicles | Going the Distance | Slippery When Wet | Short Fics by Sith

Sorry I got a little behind guys.

Justin - I love the subtelty of the humor in your story. You aren't hitting us over the head with it but there are these great lines throughout. The repeated Perfect Crime line, Tara's attempt at spicy talk and the lightbulb, things like that really fit in great. And the image of Tara singing the carol to wake Willow up reminds me of Monsters Inc. Such a great visual. In ways, your story seems like it would be even funnier if I could see it rather than read it. Either way, I love the setup and the way that you worked the required elements into it. Well done.

Cam - Unite behind the lack of summary. You're damn right girl: you don't have to write one. Let me say that Im so thrilled that you switched story ideas. Yes, this one is slightly less torid than the one you proposed but I'm a sucker for the "pretending we don't know each other" scenario. This is so quaint and sexy at the same time. Great job.

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Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

Cam - the title of your story perfectly reflects what happens in the body of the story, which is something that only came to me just now and I'm sure you intended it all along. We think in the beginning that it's going to be a holiday pick-up - with Tara seducing the hot young redhead that runs the auto repair shop - and instead it's a literal holiday pickup truck! Brilliant!

Also today in a completely unrelated series of events I was browsing PostSecret today and there was a postcard there of a red pickup truck and the person had written "I never liked your red pickup truck." It's not on the PostSecret site anymore because today was the day they cycled it, but anyway, it made me hope that it wasn't a postcard from Willow to Tara that slipped through an interdimensional mailbox.

Willow was very cute getting all flustered and saying the piston rings cost $5,000,000,000. I thought your fic was simultaneously sweet, surprising, clever, heartwarming, touching, and very, very humorous. It was a pleasure to read and thank you for sharing it with us.

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Stocking Stuffers: Little Gifts from RKT

Debra,

Friendly Friends was so warm, fuzzy and just plain sweet! Willow, Tara, and Faith make the perfect trio.



That line was so Cordelia and Harmony. LOL

I really loved the light tone this story embodied. And the end... the innocent hinting of burgeoning feelings left me with warm thoughts of things to come. Very well done.

xoxo
Emms

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G Wing

Cam...what I noticed first was how short yet jam packed with wit this is (a reflection of the author, perhaps? ) I mean you created an interesting and colorful setting, faked a pick-up, set-up the background, put everyone into character (and even managed to add a new one), and spun through a myriad of emotions both effectively and wonderfully. I'm still puzzling how you took us from so very naughty intentions to so very sweet and nice so seamlessly. I'm impressed...but that's nothing new when I read your stuff.

~Cyd

[center][/center]

Title: Winter Harvest
Author: Emms
Rating:R
Disclaimer: Joss owns Willow, Tara and everything in between
Summary: With Summer ended came the urge to usher in a new season.
Author's notes: This story is a continuation of the completed: Catching Sunflowers In Bloom and will be continued further at some point in the future.
Note 2. I want to thank Chris for the wonderful graphics, Carleen, Watty, Sally and Mary for their many wonderful comments/suggestion that helped to shape this story. And I want to thank all the others in the group, for being such a supportive bunch of people. It’s really been a great time working with everyone.
Required Elements: Six Geese a’ laying, facing the in-laws, Santa visitation


Winter Harvest
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The star's light carved ancient symbols in the night sky as Tara sat on the front porch rocking lazily back and forth in the antique wooden swing she and Willow had purchased that summer. The slow and even creaking of the un-oiled hinges created the only disturbance in the still, night air.

Tara snuggled down into her woolen sweater, her neck and chin scrunching enough to be covered to near completion inside the thick fabric. She pulled her hands inside the sweater's sleeves, so that just her fingertips remained to grasp at the edges of the roughened, beige material.

It was cold that night and the thin layer of snow on the ground reflected the soft, gray light from the lantern she'd set out on the frosted, white railing that surrounded the weathered porch. Tara could feel her face prickle as the air bit at the delicate skin left uncovered by the scratchy sweater. Her cheeks felt pulled and taut.

The mottled owl that had taken up residence inside the barn's structured beams stuck his head between the large space where the planks no longer fit together as snuggly as before, his eyes shining silver in the dark as he called out a piercing flow of night music to the creatures on the ground below.

The sky above Tara was clear of clouds and cosmic dust. Only the faint wisp of smoke from the far-away neighbor's burn-pile could be seen against the inky backdrop of night; its white tendrils curled through the air in dingy drifts before growing so faint and soft that they disappeared altogether; diluted inside the large expanse of night.

From the front porch Tara could hear the continuous hum of Willow's telephone conversation. Her lover's words carried through the opened space, passing easily through the white and steel mesh frame of the antiqued screen door. Tara thought about the cold air that must have been infiltrating their cozy living space and pondered getting up to close the barrier between the warmth of inside and the exterior's harsher elements, but she liked the way Willow's voice drifted around her, lighting the dark and bringing a sense of life to the stillness of the cold, winter night.

Deciding to leave the door as it was, Tara leaned back against the wooden planks at her back, her eyes closing to the twinkling stars above.

Tara thought about this past summer and everything that had happened since then. The makeshift vet clinic she had set up in the barn over the course of the summer had flourished, surpassing anything she'd considered happening when she had first pitched the idea to Willow. So when summer had come to an end, instead of packing things up she and Willow had made the decision to keep the project going on through winter. If things continued to go well she might even think about opening something less temporary in the spring.

Currently she was housing two cows, three horses and a scattering of field mice and rats that liked to dine on the horses’ grain during the wee hours of the night. Tara didn't begrudge them their midnight meal; winter was a tough season, even for the smallest of creatures.

Even though things were going so well, there was still something about the place that was holding her back-- making her feel unsettled and uneasy. What it was though she couldn't really put her finger on.

Tara had remained at the farm through fall to run things while Willow and Shylee went back to L.A. Shylee's schooling always came first and Tara knew from the beginning that she would have to sacrifice being with them for a few months so that their daughter could start and finish out the advanced placement course she'd qualified for the year before.

All along it had been a given that the family would come together for Christmas and that Shylee would spend Christmas break in Kansas with Willow and Tara, but as the time had neared it became clear that Shylee's winter break was going to come a tad later than expected this year. A week to be exact. By that time Willow and Tara had been on the verge of a major breakdown, and knew that they couldn't spend another day apart, much less a whole week.

They had made the decision then, to leave Shylee to finish out her program in LA with Willow's mother and father, and Willow would make the journey to Kansas alone. Sheila had reluctantly agreed to fly out with Shylee at the commencement of winter break. Willow’s father hadn’t been doing well, these last years and had opted not to make the trip as his doctor didn’t seem to think the cold would be good for his health.

The time spent apart that fall had really began to wear on her and Willow‘s relationship, and it had shown through every time the phone rang. It never failed, by the end of each phone conversation either Willow or Tara would be in tears because they so desperately wanted to hold each other and it was impossible with the thousand miles that separated them.

During that whole period Tara had felt terribly clingy and thoroughly depressed. Not only was she away from the one person she'd made a vow to stand beside for the rest of her days, but there had also been the strange sense of not being alone that permeated every waking moment during the three months she had been by herself in the farmhouse.

On more than one occasion she'd heard strange noises as if someone was walking around upstairs amongst the abandoned rooms or she would hear the sound of doors opening and closing without human aid. But most disturbing was the persistent strange smells that seemed to follow Tara around from room to room. And once, when she'd been in the kitchen washing dishes she even fancied she'd smelled her father's cologne. The ancient smell of her father was the most disconcerting of all the disturbances witnessed that fall and the hardest to explain away as mere imagination or a creative draft.

That first time she'd smelled that musty spice happened the night after Willow and Shylee left for LA and her first night alone at the farm. Tara had been doing the dishes when she'd gotten the perplexing feeling of being watched; it was the same feeling she used to get when her father would come up behind her as a child and watch her at the sink to make sure she was completing the task in a timely fashion. Tara had frozen, her hands lost in bubbles as the hair at the nape of her neck stood on end. When Tara had finally forced herself to glance over her shoulder she had felt both relieved and foolish when no apparition could be found.

Tara had laid awake all that night scaring herself with thoughts of ghosts. She'd never seen one, but she believed in them and she wondered which would be worse: her father lurking in the darkest reaches of the old farm house as a wayward spirit, not even aware of his own passing; or the thought of a stranger ghost in the house with her, someone in life whom with she'd not been familiar…After much thought Tara decided her father as a ghost would be much more confusing and complex a situation than some haunting she had no affinity with.

After many weeks of suffering alone to the tune of strange smells and various noises of which she'd hurriedly attributed to the house being old and settling on its foundation, she'd never imagined a happier moment in her life when she'd seen their red minivan pull into the driveway two days ago and Willow step out. She'd never been so glad to see Willow in their whole time together as she had been in that moment. She had flung her arms around the redhead and it had been quite a few hours before they'd been ready to let go of each other. Since then, to Tara's relief all the sounds and smells had ceased. She wondered if it was the power and safety that emanated from Willow that drove the noisy spirit away or if it had simply decided to wander off into the light, and cross over. No matter what the cause, Tara was grateful that all was quiet and peaceful again.

Now that she and Willow were together, once more cohabitating in the same living space and all the phenomena had stopped, other things had taken up residence in her mind. As Tara settled down into the easy rocking motion of the swing, her thoughts were easily turned from the comforting lull of her lover's voice to the less comforting thoughts of the approaching holiday.

Christmas had always been a special time of year for their small family and Tara usually welcomed each and every one with warm anticipation; yet this year felt different. The holiday joy she usually felt had begun to sour, turning into a bitter tasting melancholy that was flavored with tepid memories of a father that never loved her, a mother that had passed away, and a brother who refused to allow the hurt he still felt from the past to heal.

Of the three, it was the memory of her father that caused Tara the most bewildering feelings of frustration and muted hurt. Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? Maybe it was because she was getting older and had a child to love and take care of that she needed to understand how her father could have treated his own so indifferently. Tara truly knew the value of family and love and couldn't imagine what it would be like to treat Shylee the way she had been treated as a child. Was it that she needed confirmation at the age of thirty-five that she was indeed worthy of love?

Tara had racked her brain over the months trying to remember one good time she'd experienced as her father's daughter and as sad as it was, she couldn't even think of one instance when she felt like he loved her the same way that he'd loved Donny. Tara sighed, thinking about her brother and everything he must also be going through internally.

All summer Tara had implored her brother to make the trip and stay with them at the farm, but he'd always refused to discuss it with her, and his refusal to acknowledge this place really made Tara‘s heart hurt. At least while her father had still been alive, Donny's behavior had seemed understandable, but now it seemed unhealthy. There was so much bottled up inside him and he seemed almost afraid to let himself feel anything about their father and the way they'd grown up.

She suspected Donny still held a lot of guilt for the way he treated Tara and their mother during his early years. Still, she wished he would consider spending Christmas with them at their childhood home. She knew deep down in her heart that if he could just face those demons that haunted him he'd be better for it. But even after all these years when the man Donny had vilified in his own mind was dead and buried he couldn't bring himself to set foot on his father's property.

Tara shivered, pulling her sweater tightly around her body, letting thoughts of her brother slip from her heart like the gently drifting snow had once slipped from the clouds high above. She let her mind move onto other things--like thoughts of her daughter.

Tara couldn't wait to see Shylee. Three months was a long time in the life of an eight-year old and Tara felt like she was missing so much, and even though she spoke to her daughter at least once a day over the phone it wasn't nearly enough.

In addition to wanting to see Shylee Tara was also excited because it was December-- December in Cullison meant snow. Shylee had never seen real snow before and Tara wanted the little girl to know what it was like to see actual snow on the ground, instead of the fake department store snow that she saw each year, or the television snow that flaked and fell as naturally as if it were dumped out of a cardboard box by a band of renegade monkeys.

Moments passed and Tara gradually noted the burgeoning silence from inside the house as Willow's conversation with her own mother came to an end. Tara could only guess at how their conversation had concluded. She knew Willow really wanted her mother to spend the holiday with them this year, for Shylee's sake. But Tara also knew Sheila could be a formidable soul when she set her mind against something. Tara was placing her bets that Sheila would drop Shylee at the front door with a note pinned to her jacket, alerting them that she'd be at the airport waiting for the next flight back to California.

The truth was, Tara had never really understood Sheila. And it wasn't that she didn't get along with her mother-in-law, it was more like her mother-in-law didn't get along with her. Tara had tried everything over the years to get close to and bond with Willow's mother, but the older woman had always kept Tara at a distance, refusing even the smallest gesture of good will. Willow had told Tara not to take Sheila too seriously, that her mother had always been aloof and coolly indifferent, but Tara found that she had a hard time accepting that and moving on. Maybe it was because of her regrets about not trying harder to connect with her own father that kept Tara trying to forge out a peaceable arrangement with Willow's mother-- what ever the reason behind it, Tara knew she would try again this year to ease some of the tension between she and her mother-in-law.

Sheila had made it clear to Tara over the last few months that she didn't agree with Tara's decision to stay at the farm through the winter, and had been giving her the cold shoulder ever since. Sheila refused to even speak to Tara in sentences longer than a few words at a time on the occasions when they had found themselves on the phone together. Tara knew she really had her work cut out for her this year.

Tara smiled when she felt Willow's energy direct itself toward her…"How did she sound?" Tara asked, when she heard the screen door creak to life under the pressure of her partner's hand, focusing on thoughts of her daughter and dismissing the sadness over the currently non-existent relationship she had with her mother-in-law.

Willow's footfalls sounded on the wooden porch with deft thuds as the woman made her way down the length of the outdoor sanctuary. Tara been concerned about her daughter's frame of mind over the few days of which she'd spent alone with her grandparents. Tara knew that much time was enough to bring down even the bravest of souls so she couldn't help but be concerned about her own very sensitive child.

"Fine…. I mean…she sounded a little bored…but otherwise…fine."

Willow sat down next to Tara and in doing so gave the swing a little push with her foot, setting the pace for the next couple minutes of rocking.

"Did you open it?"

Willow turned toward Tara, her brow lifting in a questioning display of impatience. Tara knew Willow was referring to the package that had arrived that day. They'd found the parcel on the front porch when they returned from town this afternoon but Tara had been waiting to open it. After all she already knew what it would be. "No… I was waiting for you." Tara reached under the swing and pulled out the UPS parcel. The brown wrapping stared up at her as a portent of things to come. Tara opened the box, depositing the wrapping, next to her on the swing. She pulled at the tape holding the box closed. Tara let out a breath. There it was… just like every year for the last 16 years. A fat, hardened pecan log. Tara made a face and set the gift next to her. "I think your mother is trying to kill me, Will…" Tara was only half teasing.

"That's not very jolly honey…"

Tara could tell Willow was trying hard not to laugh. The unveiling of the log was a household tradition in their family. Each year Sheila sent them one and on the occasions when Willow's parents would not be visiting for the holiday, Shylee and Tara would take turns coming up with ingenious ways to dispose of it. "Yeah well, I don't really feel all that jolly." Tara took a breath. She wanted to explain to Willow what she was feeling, but middle age had made her complacent, so instead she said; "You do know she loathes me don't you?"

"She doesn't loathe you baby, that's just her way…"

Willow tucked a strand of blonde hair behind Tara's ear. Tara held up the brown-specked log of unappetizing Christmas yuckiness. "Face the pecans Will, she loathes me."

"At least you got a gift… I didn't get anything…"

Willow pout was pulling on Tara's mind, causing her lips to lose focus for a moment, to follow down the path of least resistance. Tara leaned across, taking Willow's pouting lip beneath her own very cold lips. Tara pulled back. "Honey, need I remind you of your Jewish heritage?…"

"I won't get anything for Hanukah either"

"Remember our first Christmas together?" Tara chuckled.

"How could I forget? That was the year my mom gave me a gift certificate to see the softer side of Sears."

"That was the year you stopped wearing bras…remember" Tara had to laugh in remembrance. It had been during their first Christmas together. Willow had taken up the urge to go braless to her mother's chagrin of course and Sheila had been passive aggressive about the whole thing. It hadn't been funny at the time, but looking back on it now they could both laugh.

"I know. It was the only time my Mom ever gave me anything for Christmas."

"Count your blessings…" Tara smiled and was greeted by warm lips pressing into her own. Tara felt her moan start in her stomach and travel the length of her chest. "After all these years, Will, you would think your mother would have come to terms with us by now," Tara said, sweeping her finger across Willow's forehead, a small smile gracing the corners of her lips.

"It takes Mom a while to adjust to things… It's because she doesn't understand about stuff."

Willow had turned her lips into Tara's palm as the blonde touched her face and Tara felt her palm tingle as desire flowed through by way of the joining of Tara-skin to Willow-lips. Tara pulled back slightly, but not before stroking her thumb across Willow's lips, careful to skirt Willow's tongue as it darted out to meet with Tara's thumb. "I liked you without a bra…Easy access," Tara said seductively choosing to ignore her lover's comment about Sheila. Tara reiterated her own words by reaching out and cupping Willow's left breast. She felt the redhead's nipple harden in response. But it was not to be, as the shrill sound of the teapot interrupted the moment.

"I put some water on to boil. I thought you'd like some tea."

Willow smiled, conveying the thought that she'd rather be out there with Tara than in the house making tea any day. But the whistle was unrelenting and Tara knew either Willow or she would have to get up eventually to take the kettle off the burner. But Tara wasn't ready to let Willow go just yet. "Not so fast…" Tara said, a sultry tone to her voice caused Willow to shiver in her arms but not from the cold, Tara was sure. She wrapped her arms around Willow's waist, tugging on Willow's undershirt, her hands slipping onto bare skin as she touched Willow's flat stomach. Even after all these years Willow's body remained the same -- still felt the same as the first day Tara had truly touched her. "I'm so glad we decided to spend Christmas here...together," Tara said, the melancholy from earlier all but disappearing as she gazed into the deep green eyes of her lover.

"You know I just realized that I've never seen Cullison in the snow."

***************************************************************
Tara finished her tea. Setting the cup in the sink, she braced herself against the old kitchen counter as she looked once again into the deep blue of the night sky. The stars were gone and the clouds had moved into formation with wisps of gray sweeping across the sky.

The constellations as seen through the clear glass of the kitchen window flickered, beckoning her vision and she lost herself momentarily in the twinkling formations. Tara could hear typing coming from the living room, and the light sounds of Christmas music emanating from the stereo brought her attention into the present moment.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, everywhere you go…

"I see you brought enough work with you," Tara teased as she came up behind Willow. Tara bent, placing a kiss onto of Willow's soft, red hair, her palms resting lightly atop the redhead's shoulders. She felt the soft texture of Willow's festive red cardigan under her fingers.

Tara loved this cardigan; she loved the way the red wool brought out the green of Willow's eyes and accentuated the redness of Willow's hair. She'd gotten it for Willow five years ago and every year the redhead pulled it out of the closet and wore it at least once during the Christmas season-- even though she knew Willow only wore it to please her.

It was at that moment that Tara's heart began to swell with so much love for Willow that she was afraid it would burst under all the pressure. And at the same time she let all her fears about her father, brother and mother-in-law evaporate inside the cleansing power of her love for Willow. For the moment she would be content to let life's little struggles work themselves out and try not to worry so much about the things she could not change.

Tara watched her lover type for a few minutes over the redhead's shoulder, her chin resting on the top of Willow's head, before her eyes grew weary of the glaring computer screen. "I'm going to go check on the babies," Tara said, but all she received from the redhead in return was a mumbled acknowledgment of her words.
************************************************************************
Tara came out of the barn, closing the double doors securely and fastening it with a stick stuck between the two handles. She'd just finished checking on the two cows, Henrietta and Lolly, to make sure they were going to be warm enough through the increasingly cold night. She was about to go back into the house when she heard a cheeping sound coming from the bare tree next to the barn. She glanced up to see six cheerful chickadees perched on the slimmest of the branches left on the hibernating apple tree. They looked so playful as their eyes studied Tara; she in turn studied them.

A light dusting of snow began to fall and Tara felt the first powdery soft flakes land on her nose and cheeks. As she looked up at the small birds, they seemed to be chattering back and forth amongst themselves, communicating their joy over the falling snow. Tara smiled. She sensed that these birds knew something she didn't, that they were wiser than they seemed…but at the same time there was a playful, innocent energy in their movements.

A memory sparked in Tara's mind as she stood looking at the chickadees on their barren branches. She tried to bring the memory into focus, but it refused to clear although she felt the memory had something to do with her father.

Tara started to turn away, heading once again for the house when she caught a movement of some kind out of the corner of her eye. She paused, scanning the snow-covered ground, but saw nothing. Thinking it must be her eyes playing tricks on her she started to walk toward the house again. She saw the movement again; this time there was no denying that she’d seen something. Tara turned around slowly, not wanting to startle whatever creature had been brave enough to seek human contact. Tara suspected it might be a stray cat of some kind, hungry and looking for a warm place to sleep and a bowl of milk.

What she saw surprised her. Coming toward her at full speed was a waddling goose. His brown feathered back stood out against his white underbelly, and his orange feet made loose goose tracks in the unmarred snow. “Well, hello there…” Tara crooned softly, not wanting to scare the creature away. The goose came close enough that if she’d wanted, Tara could have reached out and touched his smooth feathers. He stopped right in front of her, his head cocking to the side as he let out a loud honk. She thought how strange it was to see a lone goose. She was fairly certain these things usually stuck together.

Tara thought instantly of Shylee. She knew how much her daughter would have loved to see this goose in all its natural glory.

The goose cocked his head at Tara, as if he were scanning her thoughts, which was ridiculous because everyone knew geese only spoke the language of honk. And since she was alone, save for the curious goose at her feet, Tara smiled at her own joke.

*****************************************************************************
“Well, I think we should name him Sal.”

“Why Sal?” Tara asked as she stared curiously at the goose. He had followed her up to the porch, waiting until she’d gone inside to get Willow.

“Come on…look at him. He kinda looks like my Uncle Salvador,” Willow said turning to Tara “Doesn’t he?”

“I guess in a strange way he does. They’re both balding,” Tara reasoned. She knelt down, extending her hand toward the bird, but he took an awkward step back.

“And ‘cause with the waddle,” Willow pointed out.

“Sal it is then,” Tara said, then turning to the goose she asked, “Well Sal, how do you feel about being named after a balding gentleman with a waddle?” The goose made a sound of what Tara guessed to be appreciation then turned toward the barn. “Well, I guess that’s that,” Tara said.

*************************************************************************
Every night for the next four days a wayward goose would wander seemingly out of nowhere to set up roost in the barn, quickly and unceremoniously turning Willow and Tara’s solitary goose into geese.

The next two to arrive received proper names. Poots was named because he had a habit of leaving a trail of questionable material wherever he went. Lucy was named after the little girl from the Peanuts cartoons because like her namesake she too sported a curly black ‘fro only hers was grown from feathers. The most recent of the five had yet to receive a name, and it was an unspoken rule between Willow and Tara that Shylee would get to be the one to name it. They knew she loved animals and would be sad if she had missed out on all the fun.

“I’m beginning to feel like we’re running a boarding house instead of a veterinary clinic,” Tara said one night over tea after the fifth goose appeared.

“I know what you mean.”

Willow had crossed her arms in confused amazement. “I think we should start charging rent.”

“Why do you think they’re here?” Tara asked, taking Willow’s hand.

“I think they’re plotting something…something big.”

“Like world domination?” Tara suggested.

“Possibly, or maybe something less ambitious…like how to break into the bin of cracked corn.”

“Devious,” Tara’s eyebrows rose a degree higher.

“And shrewd…”

***************************************************
The next few days were a blur of action. Sheila arrived late the next afternoon with Shylee leading the way. The little girl looked relieved to be out of her grandmother's custody and was bursting with all the energy she'd had to repress at her grandparents' house.

Shylee had clung to Tara for most of her first day back, wanting nothing to do with anyone else -- Willow included. Not even her best friend Kit who'd come over the very moment she'd seen the car pulling into the driveway was granted priority over time spent with her mother. It wasn't until the next morning that Shylee had recovered from their separation and she dared go out on her own for a while, with Kit trailing along behind her.

Sheila had made a steady nuisance of herself since arriving. Tara had tried her best to accommodate her mother-in-law's demands but had found it an exercise in futility. Nothing Tara seemed to do was good enough for the woman and frankly Tara was getting tired of running around for a woman who seemed to need everything yet appreciated nothing.

It seemed Willow had her own way of dealing with her mother, which caused Tara more than one moment of irritation. Willow would retreat into her own world of numbers and ledgers, getting lost in the thick smell of paperwork and technology. Willow seemed to be paying little attention to her own mother, leaving Tara to suffer alone, both physically and emotionally while Willow disappeared for hours at a time immersing herself in her work.

****************************************************
Tara entered the kitchen to find Sheila sipping coffee and eating dry toast-- butter just gave it that flavored flavor so many people were frowning upon these days. Tara mumbled something to the tune of “Good morning” as she passed Sheila on her way to the back door. Tara didn’t really expect a response from the older woman, so she was surprised when Sheila, sounding cheerful, offered a “good morning” of her own in return, even going so far as to smile at Tara over the rim of her coffee cup.

Just then the kitchen door opened and Shylee came in, her face ruddy from the outside air. In her arms, Shylee cradled a solitary goose. Behind Shylee entered Kit, their boots leaving a trail of ice and water with each step. Tara crossed her arms over her chest and gave the children her sternest look--Tara suspected the bird belonged to one of the neighbors, as she didn’t recognize it to be any one of the five they already had. And even though the spectacle was comical Tara kept a straight face.

“Can we keep it mommy?” Shylee said with a nod to indicate the goose in her arms.

“I think he already has a home, sweetie,” Tara said thinking of the farmhouse down the road.

“He doesn’t. Kit and I found him in the barn, making friends with Sal.”

Shylee shook her head, her brown hair falling cutely from under her hat. Tara could see Sheila out of the corner of her eye, looking disparagingly at the situation, which prompted Tara to usher the girls back out onto the frost-covered porch. “We’ll see,” she said, fully intending to get to the bottom of the why and wherefore of all these geese. But for now, she didn’t see the harm in letting Shylee and Kit keep the goose, so long as it didn’t belong to anyone.

“What are we going to do with six geese?” Tara muttered to herself as she slipped into her rubber mucking boots. She was putting on her coat when Sheila suggested that she join Tara in the morning chores.

“You don’t have to do this Sheila, why don’t you go back into the house and make yourself a cup of hot coffee,” Tara smiled warmly at the older woman. She tried not to smile too wide, though it was hard because Sheila didn’t exactly look like she was ready to muck around in horse poop as they cleaned all three stables. Sheila had put on one of Tara’s heavy flannel jackets and a pair of worn jeans, yet she still looked like she was about to attend the company Christmas party rather than shovel horse poop.

“Nonsense Tara, You act as if I am a stranger to hard work.”

“I didn’t mean it that way Sheila, really. I just don’t want you to exert yourself,” Tara pulled the knit cap in her hands over her head.

“What should I do?”

“Here,” Tara picked up a shovel. “All we’re going to do is shovel all this into the wheelbarrow, right here.” Tara pointed out the wheelbarrow. “And then we’ll take it out to be composted in the big bin, over there.” Tara pointed against the far wall to the big black composting bucket.

“Are you saying that you want to keep all this poop over there in that bucket?” Sheila asked, bringing her hand up to her chest in disbelief.”

Tara nodded. “You ready?” She didn’t wait for Sheila to respond before cheerfully handing her the other shovel. Tara wondered if Sheila was regretting her offer to help about then.

They set to work, clearing the first stall in record time. Sheila really surprised Tara the way she labored. And despite of the cold out they both broke into a healthy sweat

“Actually, there was something I wanted to discuss with you Tara,” Sheila said. Sheila stopped shoveling and began to look a little uncomfortable. Tara followed suit, leaning against the long handle of her shovel as the smell of the musty barn filled her nostrils. She gave Sheila her full attention.

“I would have gone to Willow with this first, but you know how my daughter has a tendency to over dramatize things.” Sheila laughed lightly, in an attempt to cover the uncomfortable tone reflected in her voice.

“What is it you would have gone to Willow with first?” Tara asked, getting a bit nervous by her mother-in-law’s odd behavior.

“I want Shylee to come and live with me...”

Tara hadn‘t been prepared that “What?” she asked, she was certain she hadn’t heard the woman correctly.

“I think it would be best if Shylee came to live with me, full time that is,” Sheila repeated.

Tara blinked once, then twice. She didn’t know what to say. Tara could feel her blood begin to heat and it had nothing to with exertion. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Sheila must have picked up on the ill-tempered expression on Tara’s face, because she was already following up her earlier demand with an explanation of sorts.

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me you believe this is an appropriate way for a child to live? There’s livestock in your kitchen, for God’s sake!”

“Was livestock,” Tara corrected, though she found it completely absurd that she would be focusing on something as small as tense during a moment like this.

*************************************************************************************
“She didn’t!”

Willow’s face was pressed up close against Tara‘s, as they danced to the music coming from the stereo. “She did,” Tara confirmed, the boiling anger she had felt earlier had simmered into a percolating irritation by that time.

They had stolen away in the upstairs attic bedroom under the pretense of present wrapping in order to get a few minutes alone with each other. Tara felt only mildly guilty because of their dishonesty.

“I’ll talk to her.”

Willow was dropping her arms from around Tara’s waist, as she made a move to pull away. Tara knew there was no way Willow was going to let her mother upset her household, not for all the gold doubloons in Ireland. But she wasn‘t ready to let go just yet. “No. Don’t,” Tara said instantly. Then she paused, her voice softening “I mean, I can handle this one on my own,” she finished, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She reached down replacing Willow’s hands around her waist and felt the other woman grip her tighter in response.

“Are you sure?”

The feel of Willow’s fingers pressing into Tara’s skin was intoxicating her senses and making thinking rather difficult. But she managed a surprisingly sturdy replay. “Oh yes…” Tara said breathily, the formerly percolating irritation had melted all the way down into a warmth, that sat in her stomach and caused her to forget about everything except Willow’s hands as they slid up her bare thigh, the tingle under the other girl’s warm fingers causing Tara to suppress a moan. She had always been fond of Willow’s body and the redhead always seemed to be warm.

*****************************************************************************
Later that night they all sat in the living room, listening to the fire place pop and crackle as the dry wood burned and flames consumed it, casting a red-orange glow about the dimly lit room. Tara looked toward her mother-in-law, who'd promptly fallen asleep on the couch with her mouth open and her arms folded across her chest as if to say: even in sleep I'm disagreeable. Tara sat on the other end of the couch with the phone cradled to her ear as she talked to her brother for what must have been the seventh time in the last five days.

Tara really wanted Donny to join them for Christmas, but she knew that there was a better chance of the Pope dropping by for a friendly visit and a quick game of poker than there was of getting Donny to put aside his dysfunctional feelings for one holiday.

Tara hung up the phone after saying goodnight to her brother. Her eyes scanned the decorated living room until they settled on Shylee. The little girl laid on her stomach, the tan and rusted-red rug underneath her acting as the only cushion between her and the cold, wooden floor. Shylee had been stringing popcorn for the better part of an hour, and though she'd been quiet most of that hour, every once and again Tara would hear the sounds of Shylee singing softly to herself.

She was singing at that moment, her own version of a classic Christmas song Silver Bells. Tara saw Willow lift her attention momentarily from the work she'd been doing only to turn her attention away after a short time. Even though the redhead seemed completely immersed in what she was doing Tara could tell the other woman's ears were attuned to the child's singing as well.

"Silver bells, silver bells…it's Christmas time in the…." Shylee paused. "Country," She finished, singing the altered version of the song. "Is Uncle Donny coming Mom?" Shylee questioned, looking up from the popcorn she was stringing.

"I don't know, Shy."

Willow barely looked up from the numbers she was crunching-- "Give it up for the ingenuity of the modern business woman," Tara thought as she watched Willow push the tiny black buttons on the new palm-sized computer she'd bought last week. She could tell Willow was feeling that familiar rush of exhilaration at having a new toy to play with. Willow loved anything technological and was always scouting for the newest and best model. Tara knew her lover couldn't get enough of all the new-fangled gadgets they were coming out with these days.

"I don't believe in Santa," Shylee stated, resting her chin on her fists.

The little girl had directed her statement toward Willow, who by that time had given the child at her feet her full attention.

"Of course you don't darling. Santa was instituted by the corporations to sell merchandise in order to raise profit margins," Sheila muttered in her sleep.

Tara choked back a laugh as Sheila; even in sleep, couldn't resist an urge to make a pessimistic remark.

"No…. that's not why." Shylee said regarding her grandmother as if she'd been awake. "I don't believe in Santa because I've never seen him. When I was little I used to sneak downstairs when I was supposed to be asleep but I never saw him, not once." Shylee turned her attention back to Willow. "What's the point of believing in something you can't see?" she asked, with wide-eyed innocence.

Tara watched Willow move to sit down on the floor next to their daughter then motion for the girl to sit in her lap. Willow wrapped her arms around Shylee before speaking, honestly and from her heart. Tara listened to the words her partner spoke in rapt attention.

"I guess the point is to learn to have faith in the things you can't see…" Willow said. "What do you want for Christmas Shylee?" Willow asked when Shylee remained silent.

"For everyone to be together..."

Tara thought for a long time about what Willow had said to Shylee about having faith in things unseen, deciding it applied to every aspect of life, not just in the land of religion and fairytale. There were things about her father; for example, after all she'd certainly never seen his love for her, but did that really mean it hadn't existed? Tara decided not. Maybe she herself just needed to have a little faith.

****************************************************
"This one is Santa Goose."

"What's happened to Santa Claus?" Tara asked one morning as she sat with Shylee at the kitchen table. It was a rare moment of quiet. Sheila was napping upstairs and Willow had gone into town to pick up a few things for dinner and a Christmas tree, which they'd spend the afternoon decorating together.

Shylee had already begun to string the dried cranberries this morning as she'd done with the popcorn the night before and Tara would go up to the attic later in search of the crocheted snowflakes of her mother's. She was certain her father wouldn't have thrown them out over the years. Tara would have to starch and iron them, she was sure… but it was nothing if it meant she'd have a little piece of her mother with her this Christmas.

"Nothing happened to Santa Claus Mommy, he's just too busy to do everything. So Santa Goose is like a helper. He's in charge of making sure all the animals of the world get gifts for Christmas," Shylee explained.

"I heard what you told Mom the other night." Tara looked softly into her daughter's eyes. "I thought you've decided you didn't believe in Santa anymore, Shylee," Tara said with a knowing smile.

"I changed my mind, I guess…" Shylee shrugged her small shoulders unconvincingly.

"Oh, I see," Tara said deciding to leave the subject as it was. She smiled at her daughter, watching the little girl appraise her own work. She loved Shylee's imagination. "And who are these?" Tara asked, examining the picture closely. She pointed to the other geese in the drawing.

"Those are his elves," Shylee said, as if this fact was terribly obvious. "This one's named Bob, and there's Lucy, this one's Poots, this one's Minnie and that one on the end is Mouse. They help Sal…. He's the real Santa Goose…" Shylee whispered as if she was conveying a great secret.

"He is?" Tara whispered back in the same conspiracy tone Shylee was using.

"Uh-huh."

"And who told you that Sal is this Santa Goose fellow?" Tara asked, playing along with her daughter's game.

"Grandpa," Shylee stated matter-of-factly.

"What, sweetie?" Tara was sure she hadn't heard correctly. Surely her daughter hadn't said her grandfather had told her about Santa Goose. Somehow she just couldn't picture Ira indulging Shylee in anything Santa or Christmas-- this was the man, after all that Willow told her had once banned “A Charlie Brown Christmas” from his home and Willow had had to go to her friends’ house just to watch Snoopy do the Snoopy dance.

"Grandpa told me, Mommy," Shylee said again, this time she formed her words slowly.

"You mean your Grand-dad Ira, right Shy?"

"No… my dead grandpa."

Tara reeled, staring shocked into the ever-widening eyes of her eight-year old daughter's eyes. "What do you mean your dead Grandpa told you, Shylee?" Tara asked slowly, careful to censor the tone of voice she used. "Did you see grandpa?" Tara tried to remain calm and collected even though her senses were on high alert. She'd allowed herself to ponder her father being a ghost and what that might mean to her, but she'd never really allowed herself to believe it.

"I see him all the time."

"Where?" Tara asked, her hand going to her chest as if she could slow the beat of her heart with a simple touch.

"Upstairs, or looking at the sunflowers in the back… he doesn't like them too much," Shylee added more to herself than to Tara. "But mostly I see him in the barn."
Shylee said as if it was no big deal to be seeing someone who died months before walking around and apparently talking.

"Can I call Kit and see if she wants to come over and play?"

Tara nodded absently as she tried to process her daughter's words, her thoughts traveling backward in time once again replaying in her mind what Willow had said about faith and believing in what can't always be seen. Why was it that the truth always had way more dimensions to it than one wanted, Tara thought to herself.

*****************************************************************************
Tara pulled on the string, releasing the pull-down stairs that would allow her access to the attic above. She had been a child, the last time she'd seen the contents of that room. Tara distinctly remembered the smell of dust and of the vinyl her mother had always kept stored in long rolls against the wall.

Tara climbed the stairs, worrying momentarily that they would not support her weight. The old wooden stairs made a creaking sound as if they might give way but they held. Tara put her hands on the dusty attic floor for leverage as she eased herself into the small space. It was a lot warmer and more cramped than she'd remembered it being, but then again she'd changed a lot herself over the years. Other than the temperature and the lack of space to stand very tall, everything had remained the same, as if frozen in time.

Tara stooped, nearing the first box she saw, and then paused as she tried to picture where her mother might have kept the precious Christmas stars, but she was drawing a blank. Tara looked around the room. There were at least thirty boxes in the room, some stacked four high, taking up most of the room and leaving only an inch or so of space between themselves and the pitched attic ceiling. Tara blew her bangs from her forehead, and then deciding she had to start somewhere, she opened the box nearest her.

The contents of that first box and the subsequent ten after it were a bit of a disappointment, and had contained only old pots and pans and discarded clothing, moth-ridden and molding from having sat, Tara suspected, under a leak in the roof.

Giving up on any further search of the boxes, Tara looked around for any other likely storage spots. On the other side of the room she saw a few clear plastic storage containers. Tara made her way across the room to them; sitting down on the floor she took the lid off the first one. Pictures--she made a note to bring this container downstairs with her later on. Shylee and Willow might have fun looking through them with her that evening. Tara moved that box to the floor then she opened the lid of the second plastic box. Inside was a collection of old bowling trophies, her father's name etched across the front of most of them. Tara tried in vain to recall her father going bowling.


Tara was about to give up her search to return downstairs empty-handed when she heard footsteps--one after the other, directly in front of her. Tara froze, holding her breath and counting the seconds until her lungs drew in their next breath of musty air. She was feeling claustrophobic--that had to be it…or maybe she'd inhaled too many mold spores from the countless mildewed boxes above and around her.

The footsteps sounded audibly, almost disturbing the thick layer of dust on the floor--so much so that Tara fancied she saw the outline of footsteps forming into it; almost there, yet not. Tara followed the direction of the sound with her eyes, tracking it to a place where it finally ceased, leaving only a dead silence behind it. Tara focused her eyes, squinting in the gray light let in through the dingy windowpane to her left. A painting hung there on the wall and a yellowed box under it where the footsteps had ended, but nothing more. Tara's eyes seemed to get lost in the winter scene painted there, in chipped and cracked oils. The scene was of a barren tree, lightly covered in a fine dusting of snow, heavier in some places and scarce in others. Tara's breath caught, for there on the branches were six cheerful chickadees, locked in curiously consorting poses of playfulness and wisdom.

Tara recalled her meeting with birds of this fashion earlier that week. It was uncanny, the similarities between this painting and what she'd witnessed next to the barn--almost as if these very birds had somehow managed to detach themselves from this perpetual winter wonderland, to spend a few precious moments on the outside…Tara drew in a breath and when she did so there was a creaking of sorts and then the loud banging sound as the painting detached from the wall, and fell to the floor.

She sat there for a long moment before she made a move to touch the painting in any way. Something else had dropped onto the floor behind the painting when it had fallen and Tara had to tilt the painting forward in order to retrieve whatever scrap was resting there.

Tara brushed the dust from the yellowed envelope. It was addressed to her in formal script across the front of the envelope. Tara felt a lump forming in her throat. She instantly thought of her mother and wondered if she had been the one to tuck the envelope behind the painting years ago in hopes that Tara would find it. The yellowed box she'd seen earlier underneath the painting also bore Tara's name. Tara removed the painting, placing it carefully to the side to lean against the attic wall for the time being. She began to read.

Dearest Tara,

If you are reading this letter it means I have died. Even as I sit here writing this, I don't know if you will ever find it amidst the clutter my life has become over the last decade. There are three things in my life that cause me pain to think on for any length of time: thoughts of your mother, your brother and most of all you--I have come to find in my old age that it is the things past that cause the most hurt in this life.

Tara stopped reading. She had not expected that the letter could have been from her father. She felt her heart speed up. She felt the urge to scan the length of the letter but forced her eyes to hold firmly in place to the word at which she'd stopped reading. When Tara felt herself relax a little, she continued to read.

I know I wasn't the best father to you and I know you think I favored Donny, and maybe after a time I did. But I need you to know; it wasn't always that way. You might have been too young at the time to remember this now, but I can recall one year…you must have been three or four...I took you into town with me to buy some feed for your mother's horses--back in those days, you had to buy feed special order by the unit…I always took you with me because you loved to come so much that you'd cry at the door if I took your brother instead of you. Do you remember that? You were so chatty back then and always getting into things, I didn't know what to do with you half the time.

Tara leaned back against one of the sturdier boxes behind her. Her stomach did a flip and Tara thought she might throw up-- not from sickness, but from the unexpectedness of events that afternoon. Tara continued to read.

It was a few days before Christmas as we stood at the counter waiting for old Jeb to fill our order-- you had seen something of interest on one of the display cases and had taken yourself over to investigate, and it was shortly after that I came up behind you to see what you were looking at. It was a tin ornament carved into the shape of a tiny goose. You wanted that goose so badly, but I was in a hurry to get home and didn't buy it for you. I can still see the twinkle in your eyes--the way they had lit up at the site of that silly little goose.

It wasn't until later that night that I took myself back to the feed store. I intended to purchase that ornament for you and surprise you with it on Christmas…But when I got there it had been sold. I’ve always regretted that I hadn’t bought it for you earlier that day.

I know I've always been so hard on you, expecting so much from you and offering nothing in return and for that I am truly sorry. Maybe I didn't deserve to be your father… maybe I still don't. But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

Love, Daddy.

Tara wiped at the tears that had fallen from her eyes as she faintly recalled that day her father wrote of. She folded the letter, placing it carefully back into the envelope and tucked the envelope back into the card. Tara traced the birds with her fingertips as they danced across the lid of the box. Part of her was afraid to open the box because she didn't know what she would find. This box and its contents represented the only tangible connection she had to her father…it was the only thing he'd ever given her…

Tara took a ragged breath, wiping at her eyes once more with the back of her hand as she knelt in front of this unexpected treasure. She steadied herself, her fingers gripping tightly to the faded, stained cardboard lid. Tara closed her eyes, as she pulled up on the top. The lid came off with a whispered friction and Tara brought her eyes slowly down until she could see what lay inside the box. Inside, nestled carefully amidst crumpled paper, lay six little geese ornaments, carved in tin. Tara could see that they had been painted by hand with careful consideration to detail. Such love was represented there in that box that it made Tara's heart clench in her chest. She never knew…

Tara's fingers were shaking as she slowly reached inside the box. She lifted the first ornament out with delicate precision as if she were holding something so fragile that it might shatter in her hands. It was something of her father; it was something that he'd left her because he had loved her…he really had loved her.

Tara vaguely wondered if the six live geese in her barn had been some kind of sign from her father…if by way of nature he’d tried to tell her something-- something about himself and the nature of their relationship. It seemed like too much of a coincidence now that she knew about the letter and subsequent ornaments her father had left for her.

Tara felt a wonderful sense of peace as she replaced the ornament into the box. She breathed the stale attic air from her lungs and felt lighter, as if the weight of this place had finally been taken off her chest. She no longer felt the ever-present sadness that had lingered, imprinted into every wall of the house. Everything looked brighter and had taken on a new glow of life and of living. And even though she didn’t yet have all the answers to the reasons why her father had been the way he had, she felt better and more loved by him, then she ever had in her whole life.

Tara descended the attic stairs with her treasure grasped securely in her arms. Even the thought of Sheila seemed to have taken on a new glow and Tara could feel the warmth of understanding and patience fill her being as she looked at her mother-in-law, sitting there at the kitchen table. It finally occurred to her that even if she never received Sheila's blessings and approval that that would be okay. She could still accept Sheila into her heart--she'd have faith in the things she couldn't always see and hope for the best in the years to come.

************************************************************************

That night, after everyone had gone to bed for the night, Shylee tiptoed down the stairs, all the time telling herself the noises she had heard were just her parents downstairs, but what she saw when she got to the landing made her gasp. Shiny black boots polished and gleaming in the light of the glowing fireplace. And the soft white fur along the edges of his perfectly tailored coat was a slight shade of gray that could only be attributed to the soot of countless dirty chimneys.

The man Shylee saw bent over to stoop under the tree was none other than the real live Santa Claus, she was sure of it! Shylee's eyes grew large as saucers and she gasped when Santa stood up and looked at her square in the eye. His beard curled and swaying as his gaze changed positions.

Santa put his fingers to his lips in a gesture that Shylee should remain silent. Then he used his fingers as legs and made a walking motion with them on the palm of his other hand. Shylee smiled in conspiracy. She would keep his secret-- for now anyway, after all, tomorrow was another story...

The End

[center]Log in tomorrow to read…[/center]
[center][/center]
[center]by Artemis[/center]

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G Wing

Whooo hoooo Em... it's great I will give you a full report on it later...PROMISE!!!

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THE KITTEN, THE PLACE TO BE

Wow, Emms. Just...wow. Wow.

Let me try to string together some coherent thoughts here. I'll use Shylee stringing popcorn and dried cranberries together as my inspiration. First, the thing that made my jaw drop more than anything was Sheila's audacity in suggesting that Shylee come live with her full-time. It's emblematic of how out of touch she is. I wonder if she even comprehended the full import of just how inappropriate and offensive that suggestion was.

Even though we didn't get to see it, I gathered that Tara managed to defuse the situation, calm Willow down, and tell Sheila in a firm but polite way that that wouldn't work.

This was beautiful - it had a dreamlike quality to it that had echoes of Moon, even though they were two very different stories. Tara is so contemplative. Shylee is a joy. The six geese were such a nice touch. Of course, Sal is my favorite goose. I'm glad that no one suggested cooking them up for Christmas dinner when Willow asked what they should do with all the geese in their barn.

It was lovely to see the thread of Tara wondering if she needed to feel validated that she was worthy of love, and then finding the geese from her father and feeling like a weight had been lifted, running throughout the story.

Just one little thing, young whippersnapper Miss Kitty...and it's this:



Tara's 35 in this story right? I hardly think that qualifies as middle aged, and I'm not just saying that because I'm 32. Ah, youth - it's wasted on the young...

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Stocking Stuffers: Little Gifts from RKT

At the risk of being called a copy-cat, Wow.

What a wonderful tale. I loved the line about geese only speaking honk. Very funny. Your grown-up Wilow and Tara still radiate the love and completeness within each other that was a hallmark of their relationship on BTVS. But age has broght depth to them.

You evoked the true meaning of Christmas, that of being part of a family (whether biologic or chosen) and sharing love with that family. May we all received that gift this holiday season.

Great job, Emms.

Michelle

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My one and only wrecking ball
and you're crashing through my walls
~Brandi Carlile

Emms,
Great job on this story. I hadn't read your draft because I've been so busy so that means that I actually got to read a story on the board for the first time. And what a treat. I love that the story is so incredibly packed. There are so many themes here. There's the love of W/T for each other and for their child and the way that the house stands for things that come between them. There's the overwhelming theme of believing in what you can't see. I mean isn't that the entire meaning of faith? Yes, the entire meaning. It's so obvious that Tara believes in much more than she can see and to her credit. I'm glad that she found the letter and the ornaments. It was quite a beautiful addition to the story and really created some closure with her father. Of course closure with her mother-in-law is another story.

Actually I'm a little jealous that Tara gets to call her mother-in-law Sheila. I'm not kidding you when I say that after over 6 years, I still don't have any clue what to call my in-laws. No one has ever said "call me ..." or "call me ...." My wife says she doesn't know what to tell me. I spent about 5 years just not ever addressing them directly unless they were looking at me, either that or speaking to Rachel: "I think it's your mom's lead..." (when playing 42). About a year ago I started combining that technique with tossing in the word mom on a very rare basis. I have no idea.

I will take exception with one thing though. This is the 16th pecan log that Sheila has sent right? And W/T got together (for good) when they were 18. Did Sheila start sending the pecan logs then because if so, T is 34 and you call her middle aged? Tell me that W/T had been together 15 years before the pecan logs started. Please???

Great story.

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Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

Ah, Emmy...What incredible pictures you paint...You are one of the most evocative writers I've read on this board. You also cover the range of senses well: it's easy to focus on sights, sometimes sounds, but you give us the olfactory and the tactile and even the gustatory. You just invite the reader to dwell in the scene you create, and it works wonderfully.

I love stories w/ a touch of the otherworldly, and this was a delightful example thereof. The image of Tara, alone at the house and sensing her father's presence, was just so remarkably well done. I could feel myself in the attic w/ her (and wouldn't we all like to be in the attic w/ Tara?) when she was searching for the stars and her father led her to the picture. You gave such a fantastic image of the footsteps that she could....almost...see...

And the letter--that was really well done, Ems. It wasn't overstated or overwrought--it just held the melancholy of a man looking back on his life and knowing that he ended up so far away from where he wanted to be. He can still see that road, but he feels helpless to get there.

Now, about Sheila. Would you ask her to come over here? Just for a minute? Great--I'm gonna bitch-slap her for a few....OK, I'm back. That arrogant, presumptuous bitch! I like, though, that you didn't give a tidy wrap-up. This is way too complicated for that. Instead, Tara has a newfound sense of hope that she can manage it, that perhaps there is a peace to be found.

The whole story was so evocative, Emmy...I just wish I could have seen it better. At 42, my eyes are those of a geriatric geezer whose best years are behind her. 35 is middle-aged? Don't make me come down there, young lady...

Emmy, you clearly put a lot of thought and energy into this. You crafted an excellent story. Well done!

Mary

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I always wanted to be somebody, but I realize now I should have been more specific. Lily Tomlin

Emms,

I've been having computer problems for the past few days, but I was so desperate to read you story that I've stayed up into the wee small hours of the morning waiting for my comp to work long enough for me to read & reply to your wonderful Christmas-y magical creation.

Okay, practically everyone else has already said it, but, I have to agree - WOW!

Emms, you've outdone yourself, I need to completely revise my definition of the word magical.
Winter Harvest is the most moving, beautiful, amazing, magical story I have ever had the pleasure of reading.
I have no words sweetie... it was beautiful & breathtaking and I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for sharing it.

Hugs
Jeanne

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JustSkipIt,
This tale of young Willow and Tara harkens back to the feelgood holiday specials televised when I was a mere lad in the 70's.
You know, the "Christmas on Walton Mountain", "Emmet otter's Jug Band Christmas" that sort of special always sponsored by Dolly Madison snack cakes or other such nummy treats.
It also gives us a glimpse of a Faith we don't often see in the multiverse; that of championing the cause of the underdog, namely Willow and Tara and becoming the third appendage displaying a range of compassion and charm we don't often see associated from her.
Sunnydale doesn't breed stable and functional home lives, no matter which of the gang is focused upon, and Faith is no different, being lumbered with a barfly of a mother.
I didn't know they made Hanukkah pajamas either but as my academic mentor, Rabbi Jay Holstein, once said "Hanukkah has eight days to give presents whereas Christmas has only one. Therefore, Hanukkah is eight times better than Christmas."
He claimed that he could walk into any elementary school in the nation and win over kids based solely on the strength of that argument.
The ending is rife with the innocence and purity of a girl's love for another girl.

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I can deny chicks in chainmail nothing.
Amberhol-from the land of sky blue waters.
No Mere Music Hall, This my novel available directly from rosestindog@gmail.com.

Justin,
Another aspect of Faith's complex personality is revealed in this persona when we are privy to the revelation that she is somewhat intimidated by Willow's intellectual prowess and has feelings of inadequacy and low self-esteem.
The parallels between Faith and Willow were very illuminiating and did lead me to wonder how things would be resolved between them as these misunderstandings can just get out of control if not handled properly.
Poor Tara who ends up being a sort of psychic secret Santa as nearly everyone cheats and exploits her empathy to shortcut their gift-giving dilemnas.
Yay for Willow being such a sweet and thoughtful girlfriend by remembering Tara's charm bracelet and taking the trouble to create such a lovely memory for their scrapbook together.

_________________
I can deny chicks in chainmail nothing.
Amberhol-from the land of sky blue waters.
No Mere Music Hall, This my novel available directly from rosestindog@gmail.com.

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Title: Stardate: Christmas Eve
Author: Chris Cook
Rating: PG
Summary: "Captain's Log, Stardate 53988.1: We're being pestered by Ferengi, and I'm in love with Tara." -Captain Willow Rosenberg
Spoilers: None.
Copyright: Based on characters from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, created by Joss Whedon, and, Star Trek created by Gene Roddenberry and owned by Paramount and so on. All original material is copyright 2005 Chris Cook.
Feedback: Rule of Acquisition #9 (reformed): Writing plus feedback equals happiness.
Thanks: To all the other Fruitcake writers, for not panicking when I still hadn't finished this a couple of days ago.
Required Elements: Seven swans a-swimming, pushy charity collectors, and gift-giving.

Note: Willow's rank is Commander, however she is the ship's commanding officer, and is therefore referred to as 'Captain'. Just thought I'd make that clear, to avoid Trekkies jumping on me for getting the number of pips on her collar wrong

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Deep in the largely-unexplored Charybdis Sector, a system of three suns exists in a sedate Newtonian dance that belies the hideous gravitational forces the stellar triplets exert on their poor satellite worlds. A belt of debris describes an erratic orbit around the largest of the three stars; today, this is where USS Palomino, one of Starfleet's new generation of science vessels, goes about her work.

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"The time is now oh-six-hundred."

Willow - visible only as a shape beneath a blanket - stirred, rolled over, and mumbled something unintelligible.

"The time is now oh-six-hundred and ten seconds."

The blanket raised its head, gave a weary sigh, and produced a slim hand which slapped the bedside control panel harder than strictly necessary.

"Okay, okay, I'm up," Willow grumbled as she threw off the blanket. She sat on the edge of the bed, stretched, then got to her feet and stretched again.

"Windows to- computer," she interrupted herself, glancing down at her lack of clothing, "any scheduled EVA at present?"

"Negative."

"Windows to transparent," Willow nodded. "And replicate the usual."

The window panels in the wall above the bed - which had been a neutral slate grey, like the rest of the walls - faded to reveal the view beyond, a vast starfield dotted with slow-moving chunks of purple and blue rocks, glittering as their sedate tumbling reflected the light of the system's far-off star. Willow watched them for a moment, then strolled into her quarters' living room and picked a pair of jelly beans from the container which had obediently materialised in the food replicator a moment earlier.

"Access bridge logs, replay summaries of anything flagged for attention," she said, popping the sweets into her mouth as she passed back through the bedroom and into the bathroom. The computer spoke over the low hum of the sonic shower.

"Proposed alternate flight plan for planetary debris study."

"Proposed by who?" Willow asked, turning this way and that, suppressing a giggle as the sonic pulses lightly tickled her skin.

"Ensign Avria."

"Time to think up another polite way to say 'no near-warp meteor tagging'," Willow mused to herself.

"Preliminary report from Lieutenant T'Jem regarding gravitational anomalies in debris field."

"Sciencey," Willow grinned, switching the shower to aqua and biting her lip as jets of hot water massaged her from all angles. "Put it in active memory on my ready room console."

"Acknowledged," the computer replied, raising its voice slightly over the hiss of the water. "Report from Lieutenant Commander Nite regarding festivities. Query attached."

"Urgent?" Willow asked, turning off the water.

"Negative."

"I'll see him on the bridge," Willow shrugged. "Uniform please." By the time she had towelled herself off, a fresh uniform was waiting for her in the bedroom clothes replicator. Collecting it, her eyes fell on the fresh wrapping paper and ribbon resting on a clear space on the bookshelves, and she sighed.

"And, there's that..."

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A short while later, Willow Rosenberg - neatly dressed in command uniform, with three shining gold pips on her collar - approached a turbolift on her way to the bridge, having completed her regular morning walk-around of the various science departments on her ship. Her mind wasn't on science, though: she was mulling over thoughts of a certain blonde, when said blonde slid through the turbolift doors just as they were closing.

"Oh! Um... Lieutenant! Hi!" Willow said, her surprise making her greeting more enthusiastic than her companion was probably expecting.

"Captain," Lieutenant Tara Maclay nodded, smiling involuntarily at her captain's exuberance. Tara was Willow's ops officer, tasked with keeping all the departments of the ship running smoothly, allocating the vessel's resources among them, and providing a single voice for them on the bridge. It was a demanding role, requiring the touch of an artist combined with a deep understanding of the workings of a starship and her crew - Tara, who exemplified finesse and balance, and had been born and raised aboard Federation vessels, had both.

"Sorry, I..." she gestured vaguely at the closed doors. "I got a little delayed, earlier, and... sorry." Willow dismissed her apology with a wave.

"You caught up with me, so you must be early," she grinned. Tara smiled in relief, and nodded.

"Um... we're going to the bridge?" she prompted after a moment. Willow had been entirely distracted trying to think of something to continue the conversation with.

"Bridge- oh! Yes. Um, bridge," she said to the lift, which gave a quiet hum as it began to move.

"So, uh... are you, coming to the party tonight?" Willow asked.

"Yes Ma'am," Tara nodded.

"Me too," Willow smiled. "Well obviously, Captain and all, plus I decided to have the party, it'd be rude if I didn't show up. Not that I'd just show up, for form's sake... I'm looking forward to it." She was saved from the verbal tsunami building up inside her as the 'lift doors opened onto the main bridge of Palomino.

"Captain on the bridge," Jacqueline Christie announced primly from her tactical station as Willow emerged from the 'lift, with Tara a step behind. Christie - 'Jack' in her informal moments, which were as rare as pacifist Klingons - was a decorated veteran of the Dominon War, and as much a soldier as a Starfleet officer could be. Willow had on occasion wondered whether she was truly happy as tactical and security officer aboard Palomino, where her duties were largely routine, but Jack was an intensely private person; she gave no indication of dissatisfaction with her role, and Willow was appreciative of the intense dedication she showed to safeguarding her vessel and crew on those occasions when, unexpectedly, they had been endangered in the past.

Willow nodded acknowledgement at her, and she and the rest of the bridge crew resumed their duties. Tara rounded the wooden railing separating the rear of the bridge from the command deck, and relieved the gamma-shift ensign manning her Ops station, while Willow took her place at the centre of the bridge, beside her first officer Nite who, as usual, had arrived even earlier than Willow herself.

"Good morning Captain," he said as she sat down, handing her a PADD containing the previous shift's reports.

"Morning," Willow replied, glancing at it and, seeing nothing demanding immediate attention, putting it aside for the moment. Taking a brief look around, she frowned upon noticing strings of glittering tinsel adorning the bridge ceiling.

"Lieutenant T'Jem suggested it," Nite explained, seeing Willow's confusion. They heard the turbolift doors swoosh open again, and both looked up to see the Vulcan Lieutenant herself emerge and take her place at the science stations. As always, her appearance was impeccable; as usual, she gave a brief smile to her fellow officers before taking her seat. Despite having no emotions, T'Jem cultivated the ability to display such 'emotional' signs as a way of conveying her logical views, thus easing her integration into a multi-species crew. If the sight of a smiling Vulcan was unsettling to visitors, Willow's crew had grown accustomed to Jem, as she liked to be called off-duty, and affectionately used to her sincere, if occasionally haphazard, methods of interacting with her crewmates.

"Where's Avria?" Willow wondered quietly, noting the gamma-shift crewman still manning the ship's helm. Her regular alpha-shift pilot, an adventurous Medasi who, in spite of her taste for daredevil manoeuvres, was one of the most qualified in the fleet, was curiously absent. Nite, whose gaze had lingered on the science officer for a moment, looked quickly back at her.

"We've got a series of local scans on the debris field planned in a couple of hours," he explained. "Nothing dangerous, but close flying in the runabout, and I thought Ensign Avria would prefer that to watching the helm on station-keeping. I assigned Santos from astrometrics to cover helm, he's applied for helm duties, and he's logged enough simulator hours on his own time. Leonov from beta shift is on stand-by to step in, if we have a situation."

"Is that likely?" Willow asked. Nite shook his head.

"Long-range scans and intelligence broadcasts all indicate a quiet day," he said. "Simply, no harm in being prepared." Willow nodded approvingly, impressed, as she had been before, at her first officer's delicate handling of his duties. It was customary of Nite to be so thorough - as an adolescent he had fled his homeworld, where those like him who identified themselves as gendered were ruthlessly persecuted by the androgynous majority, and since then his only 'home' had been the 'fleet. Whatever his duties demanded of him, he gave his all to perform.

"Lieutenant?" Willow called, turning in her seat to look at T'Jem. "I have your report on the debris gravity field, anything you want to add before I read it?"

"Not at this time Captain," T'Jem said politely. Willow gave her a smile, which she returned with only a slight hint that it was an entirely conscious act, and turned back to Nite.

"Now, what's this about the party?" she asked. Nite grinned slightly and glanced away, his way of showing vague embarrassment.

"When I undertook to prepare for this 'Christmas party', I confess I wasn't aware of the complexities involved," he said quietly.

"Which complexities?" Willow asked, perplexed.

"The popular folklore and surrounding practices are quite varied depending on the historical period, and the prevailing cultural ethos in which the celebration takes place," Nite explained, obviously taking the subject as seriously as an Academy training simulation. "For example, according to the cultural database I studied, lumps of coal may be called for, which I understand were at the times used for heating. Obviously replicating fossil fuels is a simple matter, but the by-products of burning them would place a strain on the environmental systems-"

"Nite," Willow interrupted.

"-and it seems that the fathers of the participants, or at least the hosting individual, should don a 'Father Christmas' costume and distribute gifts, but there are an awful lot of differing interpretations of the Father Christmas figure, some bearing no apparent relation whatsoever to the others-"

"Nite?" Willow tried again, getting his attention. "It's just a party... snack food, decorations, that kind of thing."

"Ah," the first officer nodded. "The level of historical accuracy is unimportant?"

"It's not really what we're aiming for," Willow shrugged. "Commendable attention to detail, of course, but as you say, the complexity..."

"May I consult with Lieutenant T'Jem?" Nite asked, looking hopeful. "I understand her preparatory studies for the Academy included parameters for deciphering human rituals and social practices."

"We need deciphering," Willow chuckled. "Probably a good idea, sure. It looks like it's going to be a quiet day. Oh! Make sure there's mistletoe. There has to be mistletoe."

"A herb?" Nite asked.

"Hung from the ceiling," Willow nodded. "If you stand under it, people get to kiss you." Nite mulled this over, looking slightly alarmed.

"Positioning oneself beneath the herb indicates sexual consent?" he asked. "Similar to displaying a Risian Horga'hn?"

"No!" Willow shook her head quickly. "No, just a kiss... a chaste kiss. Um, unless both people are happy to... you know what, talk to T'Jem, I'm sure she'll have a Vulcan primer on human party rituals." Nite nodded thoughtfully.

"And no Horga'hns," Willow added vehemently. At Nite's curious look, she reluctantly continued: "My Academy roommate had one, and whenever anyone visited our room I had to explain it was purely for display, not because of its cultural meaning, and this one time a Bolian got down to his underwear before I got it through to him... never mind. No Horga'hns... and I'll just pretend none of the rest of you were listening to that," she finished, leaning back in her seat and putting on her 'Captain face'. The remainder of the bridge crew nonchalantly studied their consoles. Willow felt Tara's eyes on her, and gave her a glance, sharing the hint of a smile.

"Captain," Christie announced from tactical, "multiple long-range contacts, on an intercept course, warp four and decelerating."

"Threat?" Willow asked, all business. The crew's casual air became one of alert professionalism in the space of a heartbeat.

"Plasma-based weapons detected, unpowered," Tara noted. "Navigational deflectors up, but shields also unpowered."

"Hail them when they're in range," Willow ordered, relaxing somewhat.

"Visual," T'Jem said from behind them. "Seven swans a-swimming off the port bow."

"On screen," Willow said, unnecessarily as it turned out, as T'Jem was already switching the viewscreen from its forward view to show the newcomers.

"'Seven swans a-swimming'?" Willow asked quietly, over her shoulder.

"Culturally-based metaphor," T'Jem replied evenly. "Appropriate given the coincidental similarities, and time of Earth year..."

Willow grinned to herself and waved a hand at the Vulcan, quelling her explanation. She had to admit, the label wasn't a bad one. The seven vessels falling smoothly into formation with Palomino did indeed resemble swans, with their gleaming white hulls, long, outstretched necks, and wing-like aft sections spreading on either side of their central cores.

"Negative weapons locks or tactical scans," Christie reported dutifully.

"Are those Ferengi ships?" Willow wondered. She had only experienced a Ferengi encounter once before, as ops officer on the USS Ulysses, but the memory of their ceaseless profit-hunting was quite fresh.

"Warp cores match Ferengi profiles," T'Jem replied after checking her console's readings.

"Never seen that class before," Willow shrugged at Nite. "Alright, hail-"

"Lead vessel hailing us," Christie said before Willow finished.

"Okay, on screen."

"Greetings," said the expensively-dressed Ferengi who appeared on the viewscreen, displaying his jagged teeth in a thoroughly fake smile. "I'm DaiMon Prag, hailing you on behalf of the Ferengi Charitable Association, I hope you and your crew are well?"

"Yes, thank-" Willow began.

"I'm so pleased to hear that," Prag replied automatically, displaying a jagged set of teeth. "Congratulations, you have been personally selected by the FCA to be a part of our ongoing fundraising efforts, aimed at alleviating the suffering of the poor Cardassian orphans."

"Wait, personally selected how?" Willow asked, confused. She shot a glance at T'Jem, who gave a decent approximation of a shrug.

"As you know, the recent war devastated a great deal of Cardassia Prime," Prag continued, apparently oblivious to anything that was said to him. "We at the Ferengi Charitable Association are mounting an extensive relief effort, and for that, we need your help."

"Could I just get a word in?" Willow asked desperately. Resting her hand casually on the console beside her seat, she tapped a few commands in. A message appeared on Tara's console: 'Contact Starfleet, re: what the heck is the Ferengi Charitable Association?' Tara stifled a chuckle, and set about sending the inquiry.

"This one-time offer is for a limited time only," Prag steamrollered on through his sales pitch. "You pay nothing up-front, and further participation makes you eligible for," his vacant eyes lit up, as if he was suddenly interested in what he was saying, "an all-expenses-paid holiday to Risa..."

"What one-time offer is this?" Willow asked, looking around to see if any of the bridge crew knew what was going on.

"They have many fe-males on Risa," Prag continued lasciviously, before collecting himself and continuing: "In addition, a free set of culinary utensils-"

"Is there someone else I could talk to there?" Willow asked loudly.

"I can arrange for our Acquisitor to meet with you personally, to discuss your contribution to the FCA," Prag offered.

"What contri- never mind," Willow shook her head. "Yes, please, I'd like to meet with your Acquisitor."

"Please hold," Prag nodded. His image was replaced by a graphical logo for the Ferengi Charitable Association - 'The Galaxy's Friendly Helping Hand', according to itself - and a synthesised tune that was somehow mellow and irritating at the same time.

"What's an 'Acquisitor'?" Nite asked aloud.

"Never heard of it," Willow shrugged, "but it sounded important, and we weren't getting anywhere with Mister Prag. Lieutenant?" she added to Tara.

"Sociological and political downloads coming through," Tara replied. "There's... a lot of data. At a glance, the FCA seems to be an agency connected to the current Grand Nagus of the Ferengi Alliance... There's contradictory reports: according to the Ferengi the FCA is now in the business of collecting funds are resources for charitable causes. But there seem to be hard-liners within the organization who still adhere to the old ways, and are out for as much profit as they can get their hands on."

"Great," Willow sighed. "I wonder which variety we've got."

"Data transmission," Christie announced. "The lead vessel has launched a shuttlecraft, and requested permission to come aboard... not so much requested as demanded, that is." At Willow's curious look, she elaborated: "They say they're now willing to accept your offer to host their acquisition delegation, and will take it as a diplomatic insult if you 'change your mind'."

"That would seem to answer that question," Willow grinned mirthlessly. "Number One, we'll need our diplomatic wits about us, you're with me. Lieutenant Christie, you too - I want you watching our backs. Lieutenant Maclay, you have the bridge."

"Aye Captain," Tara replied, smiling broadly at Willow's faith in her.

[center][/center]

"...incidents of mislaid funds, arbitrarily-appropriated resources, self-serving business practices both within the reformed FCA and the Ferengi economy at large..." The voice of Lieutenant T'Jem, relayed from the bridge, took a studied pause, and drew breath in a vaguely exasperated manner. "To summarise the summary," the Vulcan went on, "the Ferengi, despite the best efforts of their Nagus, are having trouble adapting to benevolence. Even when well-intentioned, it seems many centuries of capitalistic behaviour have a strong tendency to reassert themselves."

"Thank you Lieutenant," Willow said soberly. She glanced at Christie, who was regarding the approaching Ferengi shuttlepod through the forcefield-protected shuttlebay doors, with definite suspicion. "We'd better be on our guard."

"I always am Sir," the tactical officer replied without breaking her gaze. Willow, long-used to Christie's Academy-bred habit of referring to her as 'Sir', turned her gaze too on the approaching pod.

"Good sigh, by the way, Jem," she noted as it passed through the forcefield and settled onto the vacant central pad.

"Thank you Captain," T'Jem said, her voice taking on the slightly sing-song quality it always did when she translated her intellectual satisfaction into an appearance of pleasure. "Was 'summarise the summary' humourous? I judged that it would be appropriate to indicate levity at that point." Willow glanced at Nite, who nodded, stifling a grin.

"We're rolling in the aisles down here," she grinned.

"Excuse me Captain?"

"Later, the Acquisitor has arrived."

Willow stood to attention, as diplomatic niceties demanded, in spite of her suspicion that the situation was going to become one long headache. Nite and Christie stood on either side of her, likewise formal, as the Ferengi pod opened its doors to reveal the FCA Acquisitor, resplendent in a tastelessly-coloured long-tailed coat, closed at the chest with what appeared to be a clasp made of a bar of gold-pressed latinum.

"Classy," Christie murmured, her tone of voice agreeing with Willow and Nite's assessment.

The Acquisitor strode out of his transport in a thoroughly regal manner, with a pair of crouching attendants in his wake, ignored Nite completely, favoured Christie with a lascivious smile, and gave Willow an indecent down-and-up look before drawing himself up to his full height, almost matching Willow, and thrusting out his hand.

"Brunt," he declared with gusto, "FCA."

"Captain Willow Rosenberg, of the USS Palomino," Willow replied by rote, taking the offered hand and shaking it quickly.

"A pleasure," Brunt nodded, apparently taking the handshake as permission to take another step forward, well into Willow's personal space. "Always a pleasure, to meet a hew-mon as lovely as you... and with such exquisite taste in underlings," he added, shooting another glance at Christie, albeit not at her face.

"That's... thank you," Willow said quickly. Her quick glance at her tactical officer had reminded her of an Academy simulation, in which she had had to use the console directly in front of a destabilising warp core to prevent it breaching. She looked to Nite for support, and found him looking similarly worried.

"My first officer, Lieutenant Commander Nite," she said, resorting to protocol, "and Lieutenant Jacqueline Christie."

"Acquisitor," Nite nodded politely, at which Brunt spared him the merest glance.

"Lieutenant Christie," he salivated instead.

"Acquisitor," Christie replied, in a voice slightly more icy than a Breen winter.

"Perverse as the notion is, there is definitely something admirably titillating about the sight of a clothed female," Brunt unwisely persisted.

"Acquisitor Brunt!" Willow broke in, before a diplomatic incident could result. "I believe you were going to talk to me about the FCA's business? Something to do with a donation?"

"Of course," Brunt nodded eagerly, swinging back around to face Willow as lust for profit overrode lust for Lieutenant Christie. "Tell me, how much antimatter does this vessel consume in a single day's operation?"

"Well, it depends," Willow shrugged, discreetly gesturing to Nite and Christie that they could take their leave. "If we're at warp, naturally the expenditure is higher, though the F-Type core is actually very efficient in this spaceframe, and-"

"Did you know," Brunt interrupted, after a moment in which his eyes began to glaze over at the technical details, "that a single day's worth of antimatter can provide power for over seventy industrial-grade replicators, of the kind used in disaster relief operations?"

"Is that so?" Willow asked weakly, seeing where the conversation was heading and mentally skipping ahead to try to find a way out of it.

"Not to mention," Brunt added, "the trilithium resin by-product, which is worth a considerable amount - why, the profits of a sale of resin could feed and clothe tens of thousands-"

"Trilithium's an explosive," Willow frowned.

"Weapons-grade trilithium is a very valuable commodity," Brunt said in a low, conspiratorial tone.

"You can't seriously be suggesting-"

"Of course not," Brunt said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. "Of course not, I was simply making an observation, to draw your attention to the many and varied resources a starship may not necessarily need, which can be put to better use. Now, let me explain what just one standard kiloquad of ODN chips can be used for..."

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"Argh!" Willow let out a frustrated growl as she entered sickbay. The ship's holographic medic sparkled into existence beside her.

"Good morning Captain," the young brunette smiled.

"No, Nurse, it's not shaping up to be anything of the sort," Willow moaned, sitting on a diagnostic bed and slumping onto her back. Nurse nodded sympathetically and sat on the edge of the bed. As one of the forerunners of her type, Nurse - speaking properly, Medical Assistant Program, as 'Nurse' was a name she had adopted for herself - provided round-the-clock medical care for the ship's crew. There was, of course, a qualified surgeon on board, with a trained staff, but except in emergencies they, like many others on the science ship, remained engrossed in their particular lines of research. Nurse, with her instant access to the ship's entire medical database, and programming based on input from dozens of the Federation's most experienced practitioners, was quite capable of handling sickbay on her own in all but the most dire of circumstances. While some Captains still had reservations about holographic personnel, Willow was quite at ease with the concept, and in fact had found herself thinking of the artificial medic as a friend.

"Checking duty logs... oh." Nurse's face fell. "I see."

"I want them off my ship," Willow said flatly, closing her eyes. "I don't care if it takes every officer I have, I want them off my ship!"

"And yet, a flat refusal would be problematic in terms of Starfleet's public image," Nurse noted. "Starfleet Command would doubtless prefer a less... adversarial solution."

"I know," Willow groaned. "And if I could think of a way to get the Ferengi out of here, without insulting them, and without giving away the warp core and a nacelle as 'donations', believe me I'd do it." She gave an exasperated sigh, then sat up.

"The worst thing is the emotional blackmail," she complained. "I thought my mother was good at guilt trips, but this Brunt guy could go toe-to-toe with her, and I'm honestly not sure who'd end up feeling like a Denebian slime devil for the rest of the week. I mean, he'll ask something ludicrous - like, can they please have all our antimatter, as if we can do without faster-than-light capability - and when I think of a polite way to say no, there's another lecture on how much it'd benefit all the poor Cardassian orphans, and a stare like, like I've kicked his favourite puppy. Or, whatever Ferengi have for puppies."

"The prevalent climate on Ferenginar favours amphibian life-forms over mammaloids," Nurse noted.

"I've stalled them for a while," she went on, giving Nurse a glance. "Jem's giving them a tour of the ship - at least they won't be able to make her feel miserable every time she has to politely refuse them." She gave a bitter laugh.

"A temporary solution," Nurse noted.

"But, I'm hoping it'll buy us enough time for someone to think of a permanent one," Willow agreed. She sighed again, then looked at Nurse.

"How's your day been?" she asked.

"Busy," the hologram replied. "Twenty-two visitors so far."

"Twenty-two?" Willow asked in shock, surprising Nurse. "Are we having an epidemic of something?"

"Ah," Nurse smiled, nodding to herself. "Not for medical purposes. With the holodecks under repair, my emitters are the most accessible means of creating solid holo-images. I've been assisting the crew in selecting their gifts for one another."

"Oh god," Willow put a hand over her eyes. "That, too..."

"Captain?"

"I've... Tara," Willow explained. "I have no idea what to give Tara." She glanced at Nurse, concerned. "You don't mind, do you? The crew using your emitters, I mean."

"Not at all," Nurse shook her head. "I'm programmed to experience satisfaction at serving my crew - the manner is not limited to medical service. And I am in an ideal position to appreciate that a three-dimensional, solid-seeming holographic construct is far more desirable - 'realistic' - than simply viewing an object on a monitor prior to physical replication. Books are popular," she went on, with authority. "Nineteen of the crew who've visited me so far have reviewed options for presenting literary works outside those available from the standard cultural database. I understand First Officer Nite went to some lengths to procure the text of Banik's thesis on the teachings of Surak as they apply to interspecies cultural exchange." She lifted a hand, and a faux-leather-bound volume appeared in mid-air, its cover inscribed with flowing Vulcan script.

"He did?" Willow smiled faintly. "For Jem, right?"

"He was not forthcoming in that respect," Nurse said gravely, then allowed a hint of humour into her voice. "But, I believe so." Willow grinned.

"Who'd have thought an androgyne would make such a gentleman?" she mused. "Just between you and me, I suspect he's a sweetie beneath that level-headed exterior. When he's around Jem, anyway."

"As you are, around Lieutenant Maclay," Nurse added innocently.

"I am not!" Willow protested. "Alright I am," she amended almost without pause. "Is it that obvious?"

"On a starship with fewer than sixty crew, everyone knows everything," Nurse said sagely. "I don't need the personality profiles of two dozen career medical officers to know that."

"Oh great," Willow said, flopping onto her back again.

"It's nothing to be upset about," Nurse assured her. "No-one's going to stop respecting you as Captain, simply because they can see you're a person too."

"There's a reason relationships between a captain and a crew member are discouraged," Willow countered wearily.

"Have you considered there's also a reason why they're not forbidden?" Nurse asked.

"I thought you were a doctor, not a counsellor," Willow frowned.

"I'm whatever my patient requires me to be," Nurse replied primly.

"Since when am I your patient?"

"You're on a bed in sickbay," Nurse shrugged. "As conclusions go, it's not a difficult one to leap to."

Willow sat up, glanced at the hologram, and nodded.

"Okay," she sighed. "I don't want to be just friends with her... not that I don't want to be her friend, of course. In fact, of all the friends I have, Nite, you, Jem, Tara's the one I most... oh, you know what I mean."

"You're half a micron from letting your mouth run away," Nurse pointed out.

"At warp speed," Willow nodded.

"You only do that about matters you care deeply about," Nurse went on. "In fact, since my activation, I can recall only one instance when you've appeared to care so deeply about anything, outside of your responsibilities as Captain."

"What's that?"

"Just now," Nurse smiled.

"That still doesn't help me decide what to give Tara," Willow said, sitting up once more. "I don't have any texts outside the library that she's interested in, I can't paint, sculpt, I don't want to just give her some replicated something-or-other... Kobayashi Maru."

"Excuse me?"

"Out of options," Willow explained with a sigh.

"Perhaps... yes," Nurse thought out loud. "What do you truly want to give her?"

"I don't know... well... this is between us?"

"I'll consider it doctor-patient privileged information," Nurse nodded.

"Myself, with a big bow wrapped around me," Willow smiled sheepishly.

"At this stage of your relationship, inadvisable," Nurse said. "And impractical, if you intend to present your gift to the Lieutenant at tonight's party. Though it would make quite an impression."

"I'll bet," Willow grumbled. "Will you be there?"

"Commander Nite contacted me to assure me the venue would be the mess hall," the hologram nodded. "The emitters there are in full working order at present."

"Good," Willow nodded, getting to her feet. "Well, back to the grind... I really should check in on Jem with the Ferengi, make sure she's doing okay. Thanks for your help."

"Did I help?" Nurse asked, puzzled.

"I like to talk," Willow smiled. "It helps having someone listening - otherwise, I'd worry that I'm going crazy. And this whole gift dilemma is pretty much my own fault anyway, leaving it 'til the last moment, so, I guess it's up to me to figure it out."

"Small furry animals are often considered a meaningful gift in such circumstances," Nurse suggested as the Captain headed out of sickbay.

"See you later," Willow laughed.

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_________________
Chris Cook

Through the Looking-glass - Every world needs a Willow and Tara.

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Tara heard the gym doors whoosh open, and paused her holographic Mok'bara tutor, turning to see who it was. She gave a smile as she saw Lieutenant Christie come in and head straight for the weight sets.

"Jack," she called to her. Christie's head snapped around, alert, then she relaxed as she spied Tara in the otherwise-empty gym.

"Afternoon," she nodded, moving to set closest to Tara's mat. "How long have you been here?"

"Just since shift change," Tara replied, nodding to the hologram that she was ready to continue. Following its lead, she resumed her ritualised tai chi-like motions. "The Captain left me in the centre seat all shift - she stayed in her ready room."

"Nearly a whole shift," Jack smiled, stripping off her uniform. "What's that, six times you've had the bridge?"

"Six it is," Tara confirmed. "Not that there's ever been anything unusual happening-"

"-but it's still a good feeling," Jack finished knowingly, donning exercise shorts and a tank top. "You'll get used to it, probably around about the dozen. Computer, local gravity to Vulcan standard. Activate spotter." She settled back on the weight bench and gripped the bar.

"You could just set the weights higher," Tara smiled.

"Where's the fun in that?" the brunette replied with a straight face. "Besides, I like feeling the gravity. If nothing else, it makes the end of the set a lot more refreshing." Tara gave a quick laugh.

"Were the Ferengi any trouble?" she asked. Jack shook her head.

"Not yet, which worries me," she said tensely, putting her efforts into lifting the gravity-enhanced weight bar. "They're not stupid, and I doubt they seriously expect to be able to guilt a Starfleet Captain into giving them valuable equipment - they must know Starfleet has reports of the FCA's questionable practices. There doesn't seem to be an angle in this for them... so I worry what the angle I'm not seeing is."

"Always the tactical officer?" Tara teased.

"Always," Jack grinned. "At least there's only the Acquisitor to worry about now. Jem scared the others away, they're hiding in their shuttle."

"Jem scared them away?" Tara asked, incredulous. Jack chuckled.

"You know all her 'uncanny valley' mannerisms, that she normally avoids? The ones where she gets a bit too close to the appearance of emotion, without actually having anything behind them?" She smiled.

"She did them?" Tara guessed.

"She did all of them," Jack laughed. "Even Brunt was looking nervous - after half an hour, he was practically hiding behind me. I'll give that he's got determination though, he stuck with it. I think it may have been the Captain's idea... I may have underestimated her."

"Really?" Tara probed. Jack shook her head.

"Don't get me wrong, I respect her," she said. "She's a fine officer... I have no problem serving under her. It's just... well, I suppose it's a soldier thing. Until I've seen a commander in battle..."

"I understand," Tara nodded.

"It sounds Klingon, when I say it like that," Jack mused. "Of course my grandmother had quite the reputation as a seductress... maybe I do have Klingon blood," she added, smiling.

"It would explain a great deal," Tara joked.

"Do I have lumps on my forehead?"

"No, they're not on your forehead..."

"Brunt was staring at those all day," Jack said with a chuckle. "When he wasn't hiding."

"Maybe he was only hiding behind you to get a look at your butt?" Tara chuckled.

"That's a thought that's going to fester," Jack complained. They shared a grin, and continued working out in silence for a moment, Tara smoothly performing the Mok'bara moves, Jack sweating with the effort of lifting the bar at substantially more than Earth gravity.

"Are you going to the party?" Tara finally asked, slightly nervously. Jack shook her head.

"Not my kind of occasion," she said. "Why, have you decided you need backup for your big move?"

"It's not a 'big move'!" Tara blustered. "And no, I'm perfectly capable of giving the Captain her present on my own..." She bit her tongue in thought, then sighed. "I wouldn't mind if you told me how easy it'll be, though," she admitted.

"Hah!" Jack barked. "You want to date a Captain, that's never easy."

"You have," Tara countered.

"That was different," Jack said quickly. "For one thing, there was a war on, we both knew - all the people I 'dated'," the ironic inverted commas dropped in audibly as she spoke the word, "knew the risks. Here today, could very well be gone tomorrow. We never got involved. For want of a better word, it was... recreation."

"Like working out together?" Tara asked carefully. Jack paused, and gave Tara a deliberate, serious look.

"I'd miss you," she said quietly. "If anything happened. I consider you a friend."

"I do too," Tara replied.

"You never saw the worst of it," Jack said slowly, then quickly added: "I don't mean that to imply anything negative." Tara nodded her understanding.

"Not every ship had front line duty," she agreed.

"I know what your ships did was important," Jack continued. "Bellerophon especially, all the diplomatic work - that saved lives, no question. But on a fighting ship, it's... different. You don't have friends, you have colleagues. Comrades. Like friends, closer sometimes, except... you can replace them, when they die. Because they will. On the Drake, nobody forgot that. We got daily reminders, most days, whenever we were on assignment." She shook her head, returned the weight bar to its brackets, and sat up to face Tara.

"This isn't one of those ships," she said, "and you and Captain Rosenberg won't be like that. It won't be 'recreation'... and I know you've heard it before, but it will be difficult. You'll have to share her with the ship, there'll be times when you'll have to be her subordinate."

"I can deal with that," Tara said calmly.

"I believe you," Jack nodded. "But it'll still hurt, when she has to look at you and just see an officer, not a lover. The only comfort I can offer there is that I'm sure it'll hurt her just as much."

"I know," Tara replied soberly. "But, she's the Captain. If she was the kind of person who'd ignore her duty for personal reasons... I probably wouldn't want to be with her."

"I hope it works out for you," Jack said. "Just go in with your eyes open. That's the best anyone can do."

"This is all hideously premature," Tara pointed out. "I don't even know if she's interested in me, let alone... what?" she asked, as Jack laughed to herself.

"That suggestion about keeping your eyes open?" the tactical officer said. "Evidently you haven't been doing so up until now. I'd stake a bar of gold-pressed latinum that the Captain is very interested in you."

"You really think so?"

"Are you calling me a liar?" Jack teased.

"I wouldn't dare," Tara grinned.

"Good girl," Jack said archly. Her communicator beeped, interrupting whatever she had been about to say.

"Engineering to Lieutenant Christie," came the distinctly clipped, staccato tones of the ship's Chief Engineer. Jack sighed and picked up her combadge from atop her crumpled uniform.

"Christie, go ahead One," she replied.

"There is a situation in main engineering that we believe requires your attention," One said succinctly.

"I'm on my way," Jack said, switching off the badge and reaching for her uniform. She glanced at Tara, who had deactivated her tutor hologram. "Going now?"

"It's as good a time as any," she said, forcing a confident smile.

"Relax. It's a good gift."

"Thanks, Jack."

"Good luck... eyes open," Jack grinned as Tara picked up her shoulder bag and left.

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"What's up?" Christie asked, emerging from the turbolift into Palomino main engineering facility, a four-storey complex surrounding the tower-like warp core, which pulsed with the energies within it as matter and antimatter annihilated in controlled bursts.

One, the diminutive Chief Engineer, turned from a seemingly-idle contemplation of the core and fixed Christie with a serious gaze. On the side of his head a slim, flat cybernetic unit flickered its lights momentarily as he redirected his thoughts to her. He was at once typical of his people - the Bynar race having universally embraced cybernetic enhancements of their minds - and unique - unlike other Bynars, who were born and lived their whole lives in the company of a binary partner, One's cyber-neural link was not to another Bynar, but to Palomino itself.

"Lieutenant," the Bynar greeted Christoe. "We are experiencing minor fluctuations in our tertiary field coils. Having correlated and analysed the relevant data, we believe this to be the result of external tampering with the subspace generators located throughout decks four and five."

"Sabotage?" Christie asked, quickly preparing a mental checklist of procedures for all possible outcomes.

"We are not sure," One admitted. "Our internal sensors do not detect any life-forms or artificial constructs in the vicinity of the generators that we have not been able to account for."

"I'll take care of it," Christie promised. "Does the Captain know?"

"I have informed her," One nodded. "She is attending to the Ferengi guests. I thought it prudent not to give exact details of the situation in a setting in which our conversation may have been overheard; I gathered from the Captain's responses that she understood what I was deliberately not saying. She agreed that security should investigate, and will wait for your findings."

"Thanks," Christie said. "Smart move, I wouldn't be surprised if the timing of this isn't a coincidence."

"Lieutenant?" One asked.

"Being suspicious is part of my job. Keep monitoring those decks around the generators, if you pick up anything let me know."

"Of course."

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Willow was again deep in thought when she ended up face to face with Tara. This time, however, the Lieutenant was standing outside the Captain's quarters, waiting for her with a square box in her hands, wrapped in silver paper and tied with a red ribbon.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Sorry, I didn't... hi?"

"Captain," Tara smiled.

"Lieutenant," Willow nodded. "You're waiting for me? Well obviously, outside my quarters... come in," she offered, tapping the control to swoosh the doors open.

"Thank you Captain."

"'Willow' is fine," Willow said, following Tara into her living room. "If you want... we're off-duty after all, well, insofar as a Captain is ever off-duty. We've used first names before and the universe didn't come to an end, so I'm taking that as a good sign." She gave Tara a hopeful grin, and relaxed when the blonde chuckled.

"Willow," she nodded.

"Better," Willow smiled. "So... Tara... what brings you here? Oh, it's not official, is it? Cause then we'd be back to ranks, and... okay good," she sighed in relief as Tara shook her head.

"I, uh," Tara hesitated. "I wanted... that is, I... Merry Christmas!" she finished in a rush, as if trying to get the words out before they could escape her, and held out the present.

"You... for me?" Willow asked. "You didn't have to, I... thank you." She took the box, and, glancing frequently at Tara, pulled the ribbon loose and peeled back the wrapping. On opening the box inside, she found herself peering at a richly red-brown mass, contained in stasis wrapping.

"It's..." she began, lifting the odd dome-shaped thing free of its box. "...it's a cake?" she guessed. She noticed a second stasis-wrapped package in the box, and drew it out, finding it to be a formless lump of snow-white.

"Christmas pudding," Tara explained, smiling at Willow's confused yet pleased expression. "It'll be hot when you unwrap it, and the ice cream goes with it."

"Hot and cold?" Willow asked. Tara nodded.

"It looks delicious," the Captain smiled, turning her attention back to her ops officer full-time. "Thank you Tara, this is so sweet."

"You're welcome," Tara said bashfully. "Commander Nite should get some of the credit, he authorised me to construct an oven in my quarters to prepare it."

"An oven," Willow said, confused. Then: "You cooked this? I mean, actually made it, from raw materials?" Tara nodded, and grinned as Willow's face lit up.

"It's something I've always been interested in," she explained, basking in Willow's admiration. "Preparing food the old way... When I went to the Academy my roommate was from a traditionalist community in Europe, she'd replicate raw foodstuffs and cook with them all the time, it was... so amazing. My father's very talented at replicator programming, he can make really amazing dishes, but actually creating it with your own hands, it's... I suppose, in a way, it seems almost intimate. Which probably sounds pretty strange, to anyone who wasn't raised on a ship," she finished with a self-effacing smirk.

"No," Willow shook her head, "no, it doesn't... Thank you Tara, this is really wonderful, I... I don't know what to say, except thank you, and just repeating it again and again doesn't really seem like it's enough."

"Thank you," Tara smiled. "It was my pleasure." She and Willow faced each other, in a silence that managed somehow to be awkward and comfortable all at the same time.

"I, should go," Tara said at last, taking a step back. "I promised I'd help set up the mess hall, with T'Jem busy..."

"Will I see you at the party?" Willow asked quickly, taking a half-step forwards herself, then restraining herself from too obviously pursuing Tara as she moved towards the door.

"Yes," the blonde replied.

"I'll give you your present then," Willow said before she could stop herself. Tara blinked in surprise.

"My...?" she asked.

"I know, technically," Willow waved a hand, "the party is, more or less, my present to the crew, but I get to enjoy it myself, so anyway... and you're a friend, and I... I wanted to give you something, so you'd know that... I care." She bit her lip, acutely aware of the pile of wrapping paper in her bedroom, yet to find something to be wrapped around.

"I do know," Tara said softly. Then her slow move towards the doors entered their sensitive space, and they swooshed open, breaking the moment.

"I'll see you there, Captain," Tara said, with a last smile for Willow.

"Right!" Willow replied. The doors swooshed closed, and she let out a huge breath, as if she had just surfaced from an undersea swim.

"Christie to Captain," her combadge accounced.

In the corridor outside, Tara surprised a passing ensign by executing a pirouette, then pumping her fist triumphantly in the air. Then she straightened up, blushed, and went on her way just in time to miss Willow emerge from her quarters, looking grim, and head off in the other direction.

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A moment later Willow arrived in the mess hall, to find a team of off-duty crew putting up decorations under the watchful eye of T'Jem, who was wearing an emerald green, pointed pixie cap.

"Jack said to what in the heck is that?" Willow said all in one breath. T'Jem, who was used to Willow's habit of switching topic mid-sentence with no warning when she was surprised, was unfazed.

"I am a Christmas Pixie, or Elf, depending on interpretation," the Vulcan explained. "Lieutenant Christie commed a moment ago to say she would be here shortly, and to ensure that the Ferengi were not present. Commander Nite is continuing Acquisitor Brunt's tour. He wished for me to have a 'first-hand' role in assisting him with the preparations for tonight's festivities."

"That's nice of him," Willow smiled, remembering Brunt's annoyingly precise application of emotional blackmail. She shrugged it off, reasoning that Nite was too professional an officer to be swayed.

"So, Christmas Pixie?" she asked. T'Jem nodded.

"An appropriate analogue for my position, as assistant to the Commander's Father Christmas. Also, I have the necessary ears."

Christie appeared at that moment, covered in sweat and not a little grime, and with her uniform jacket tied around her waist by its sleeves, leaving her in her sleeveless undershirt. She had a phaser rifle in one hand, and a Cardassian vole in the other.

"Lieutenant," Willow greeted her, privately thinking that Nite's development as a male would have taken significant strides had he been around to see Christie at this point.

"Captain," Christie nodded. "Voles."

"Indeed," T'Jem said, peering at the stunned, six-legged creature in Jack's hand.

"We have a vole problem?" Willow asked. "How? And... are those cybernetics on its head?" The vole did indeed appear to have an implant covering its face, including miniature optics and an ODN data port.

"One is analysing another of these things now," Christie said. "The alloys are Ferengi in origin. These things are crawling around the Jeffreys Tubes between decks four and five, getting into the generators, and if you can believe this, unscrewing the nodal regulators and swallowing them."

"They're what?" Willow exclaimed. "Why? The Ferengi?"

"I caught this one heading towards the junction to the shuttlebay deck," Christie nodded. "I've got a security detail sealing the tubes and clearing them one section by section, but you know what Cardassian voles are like at dodging scan beams - it could be a while before we get them all."

"Fascinating," T'Jem murmured, poking the limp vole's limbs.

"So," Willow frowned, "the Ferengi, what... Released a bunch of voles into the ship, with cranial implants that make them go after nodal regulators, swallow them, and bring them back to their shuttle?"

"The regulators are precision technology," T'Jem put in. "I believe their current value, in full working order, is approximately five bars, four strips of gold-pressed latinum per unit."

"This is ridiculous!" Willow protested. "I'm not having remote-controlled ferrets dismantling my ship! Christie, go find Brunt - he's with Commander Nite - and... no, he'd protest innocence, and hang around while we went over all the details, there's no way the Ferengi would try something like this without a failsafe plan..."

"If we were to withhold the fact of our discovery," T'Jem suggested, "but make it seem immanent, their failsafe plan for that eventuality may be to withdraw the evidence as soon as possible."

"Right," Willow nodded. "I'll handle Brunt. Christie, keep rounding up voles, I don't want them getting any of our equipment... and frankly, I'm pretty sure this is an animal rights issue too, so I don't want them getting their voles back. Jem, talk to One - this implant is too small to have much of a memory capacity, they must be using a low-level signal to control their critters, see what you can do about jamming it. I'm authorising full covert scanning of their shuttlepod. You've got fifteen minutes."

"Yes Captain," the two officers replied.

"We've got the Jeffreys Tubes locked down," Christie added. "They won't get through."

"Good," Willow smiled grimly. "On your way. Oh, Jem?" Willow called after them, as the pair moved towards the door. "The hat?"

"Of course," T'Jem nodded, removing her pixie cap.

"Was she blushing?" Christie asked once they had left the mess hall.

"Your attire is somewhat revealing," T'Jem responded calmly.

"My- oh," Christie glanced down at herself, noticing how the sweat she had worked up was making her singlet top somewhat clingy in certain prominent areas. "She... the Captain isn't... 'interested', in me, is she?"

"I do not believe so," T'Jem shook her head. "But she is homosexual, thus liable to be affected by aesthetically-pleasing displays from humanoid women in general, and you are both attractive in general, and visually arousing at present."

"Uh... thank you," Christie smiled slightly, turning her head to hide a blush of her own.

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Willow found Brunt and Nite in the ship's computer core twenty minutes later, Brunt delivering a withering lecture on what he evidently perceived as the sheer waste of Starfleet lavishing such equipment on their own ships when there were Cardassian orphans in need, and Nite withstanding it.

"Acquisitor Brunt," Willow announced herself with an entirely false smile.

"Ah, Captain," the Ferengi leered at her. "I was just telling your subordinate here-"

"I'm afraid a situation has arisen," Willow interrupted him, flashing an innocuous stare at Nite which he correctly interpreted as 'I'm up to something, play along.' "We've had a problem in one of our biometrics labs, a batch of Calandian carnivore bats has gotten out of its cage."

"Most unfortunate," Brunt commiserated insincerely. "I'm not sure I know the species, are they valuable?"

"Not really," Willow frowned. "In fact, they're considered a bit of a pest on their homeworld. They have a very adaptable metabolism, you see - they can digest practically any organic matter, meaning they prey on any small animals they can find, although luckily they're no danger to humanoids."

"But something like a vole," Brunt said, suddenly looking worried, "they would be..."

"Bat food," Willow confirmed.

"If you'll excuse me for just a moment!" Brunt said desperately. "I need to talk to my shuttlepod..." He retreated into the corner and spoke quietly on a communicator, while Nite moved next to Willow.

"Calandian carnivore bats," he said quietly.

"Made 'em up," Willow nodded, keeping her expression carefully neutral.

"What course of action should I take?" Nite asked.

"Just follow my lead."

"Captain," Brunt announced, all smiles as he returned, "my shuttlepod crew has informed me that there aren't any of your bats aboard the pod, and to assist in keeping this unfortunate outbreak contained, they'll be returning to our solicitation cruisers now."

"I'm so sorry we won't have more time together," Willow said, keeping herself from smiling.

"Oh, not at all," the Ferengi gave a snaggle-toothed grin. "With your gracious permission, I'll remain aboard to continue enlightening you and your crew on the generous contributions you can make. I can always transport back later, once we've finalised arrangements for your donations."

"Uh, transporting is sadly impossible," Willow improvised. "There's an inverse chronoton field present in the asteroid belt here, and sadly we don't have the necessary isodynamic field capacitors to transport safely through it."

"Isodynamic field capacitors... nor do we," Brunt frowned. "But of course, surely a ship of this size has its own shuttlepods? It would be only a minor inconvenience for me to be returned to my ship, along with your donations, on board one of your shuttlecraft."

"Uh, actually-" Willow began.

"Captain, if I may," Nite broke in quickly. "Acquisitor, of course that would be no trouble at all. We'll have one of our shuttles standing by whenever you're ready."

"No problem at all," Willow smiled when Brunt peered suspiciously at her. Seemingly mollified, he nodded to himself, and fixed his attention on Lieutenant T'Jem as the Vulcan emerged from the nearest turbolift.

"Captain, Commander," she said politely.

"Would you take over Acquisitor Brunt's tour for a moment?" Willow asked. T'Jem nodded, and Willow hustled Nite into the corridor.

"Tell me you've got a plan?" she said.

"The Acquisitor confided in me that he and his fleet have no immediate plans. If we continue to refuse his solicitations, he will in all likelihood persist in seeking 'donations' for the next week, if not longer. It would be preferable to have him on his way sooner than that."

"Definitely," Willow agreed. "How?"

"Brunt is very conscious of his own comfort," Nite said. "So far he has complained no less than seventeen times regarding the ship's 'inadequate' environmental settings, mainly to do with the lack of humidity, the excess heat, and various minor sonic disturbances which he seems sensitive to."

"Well I'm not turning my ship into a swamp just so he can feel like he's at home."

"Ferengi are also sensitive to motion-induced nausea," Nite went on. "If we were to promise a substantial enough 'donation' to satisfy him, place the least profitable 'portion' of said donation in the Waverider, and allow Ensign Avria to pilot it, and Brunt, back to his ship... what are the odds he'd be willing to make the return trip to get the rest?"

"He has to be personally present to collect donations?" Willow asked.

"He does," Nite nodded. "Part of his duties as Acquisitor. He tends to ramble when he believes I am agreeing with him. At one point, he offered to sell me a copy of his personal journal. I made an effort to seem less interested at that point."

Willow thought it over, then began to grin.

"Nite, you're a genius," she said.

"I am?" he asked. "Uh... thank you Captain."

"Make it so," Willow smiled.

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Two hours later, the mess hall was crowded and festive. A large Christmas tree, adorned with ornaments from dozens of cultures, stood between two long tables laden with snack foods. Nite, dressed as Father Christmas, was hauling a large sack of presents around, collecting presents from givers and distributing them to receivers, with the help of T'Jem in a rather skimpy pixie costume. Christie had made an appearance sometime after the start of the party, and was keeping to a relatively quiet corner, evidently enjoying the company even though she remained on the periphery of it. Nurse, by way of amplifying her voice, was leading a series of Christmas carols, made somewhat erratic by many of those present not knowing the words, being liable to alter then at the drop of a hat, or in the case of those without rostered duty shifts for the next twenty-four hours, because they had replaced their synthahol-based party drinks with Romulan ale.

"On the twelfth stardate of Christmas, my par'machkai gave to me..." she led, for the benefit of the crowd.

"Twelve Betazoids thinking," T'Jem sang.

"Eleven Klingons fighting," One continued in his soprano.

"Ten Prophets weeping," Tara contributed.

"Nine Romulans scheming," Avria's energetic voice drifted over the room's communications system.

"Eight targs a-hunting," Nite put in.

"Seven Vulcans prospering," T'Jem added, getting a laugh.

"Six sehlats sleeping," Jack sang, surprising a few people.

"Five holy rings," Willow continued.

"Four hailing combadges," Nurse added.

"Three Risan women," Nite sang, getting a decent imitation of a playful glare from T'Jem.

"Two Corvan gilvos," the Vulcan added.

"And a Marcosan sentient tree," everyone joined in for the last line, laughing.

"We'll have a ship's choir soon," Nite suggested, appearing at Willow's side as she stood by the tree.

"The general adherence to rhythm and meter requires work," T'Jem added thoughtfully.

"'Seven Vulcans prospering' wasn't exactly a smooth fit," Tara pointed out with a grin.

"Par'ma'kai" Nite mused.

"Klingon," T'Jem replied. "From the back of the throat... par'machkai. Possibly it is helpful to eat gagh beforehand, to capture the accent - digestive unrest may be beneficial." She displayed a smile at Willow, Nite and Tara's chuckles, evidently satisfied that her minor joke got the desired response.

"So, the Ferengi are gone for good?" Tara asked Willow.

"They will be," she nodded. "Avria's just ferrying the Acquisitor back to his ships, and I sincerely doubt he'll want to come back for more 'donations'."

"Really?" Tara asked, surprised. "Ferengi can be quite single-minded when it comes to profit."

"Let me see," Willow said, glancing out one of the panoramic forward windows. "They should be coming past... around about now..."

One and Nurse joined the group, and they watched as Palomino's 'Waverider' flyer appeared from beneath the ship's saucer section and shot at breakneck speed towards the nearest asteroid. It veered aside at the last moment, barrel-rolling violently, and vanished into a minute gap between two other rocks, emerging just in time to escape their collision.

"It's a pity Avria doesn't get more chances to stretch her flying muscles," Willow mused.

"I think she feels the opportunity to pilot Palomino regularly is worth the relative stability of our course," Nite said.

"The Nova-class propulsion system is one of the most finely-tuned in the current fleet," One said with a touch of pride. "Ensign Avria has frequently complimented my staff on the condition of the engines, and their responsiveness to her piloting."

"Palomino to Waverider," Willow said, touching her combadge. "Ensign, how's your passenger?"

"Foetal position, Captain," the Ensign replied, sounding quite cheerful. "I can't imagine why, but he doesn't seem to like flying."

"He won't be back," Willow said, smiling in satisfaction. Far off in the distance, Avria skimmed a tumbling asteroid close enough to kick up a dust cloud in her wake from its surface.

"What did we give them, anyway?" Willow asked Nite.

"Several crates of self-sealing stem bolts," he replied.

"Good luck to them turning a profit with those," Nurse chuckled.

"Captain," Nite said, "I was wondering... were 'isodynamic field capacitors' another invention of yours?"

"Guilty," Willow smiled. "The old 'one adjective and two nouns' naming system, it works every time for sophisticated equipment."

"True," One confirmed. "Seventy-eight percent of the discrete equipment packages recognised by the Starfleet Corps of Engineers follow that structure of nomenclature."

"What became of the voles?" T'Jem wondered.

"Lieutenant Christie's team were very efficient in capturing them all," One replied. "Our scans indicated that their compartment in the Ferengi shuttlepod was accessible only from the outside, and thus not visible from inside the craft. We simply beamed in a quantity of specimens which the biometrics lab provided, thereby causing the Ferengi sensors to read the compartment as full. They evidently mistakenly assumed it was full of voles."

"What was it full of?" Willow asked. "Nothing dangerous?"

"Oh, no," Nurse shook her head. "We made sure to feed the specimens before beaming them in. They'll be no tribble at all."

"They won't be back," Willow grinned.

"They won't dare," Tara added.

Willow smiled at her in return, then nodded towards a quiet corner.

"A moment?" she asked. Tara followed her, while Nurse and One mingled, and Nite and T'Jem sampled the snack foods, their index and middle fingers casually touching at their sides.

"I promised a gift," Willow said, smiling hopefully, "and a minimum of babble to go with it, so without further ado... merry Christmas." She revealed a slim gift-wrapped object from behind her back and presented it to Tara.

"Captain..." Tara said in quiet delight, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper and ribbon, "Willow... thank- oh, my..." She took a hushed breath as she saw what was in her hands: a slim volume, which when she gently opened it contained hundreds upon hundreds of hand-written, thin paper-film pages. She closed the compact book and traced her fingertips over the lettering on the cover: 'Willow Rosenberg - Personal Journal'.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted, glancing up at Willow with moist eyes.

"Age twelve through to my graduation," Willow smiled. "So don't worry, there's no restricted command information... just all the embarrassing details."

"This is so... personal," Tara murmured.

"I know," the redhead nodded. "Will... you accept it? It's your choice, totally." Tara took another, steadying, breath, then firmed her grip on the journal.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I..." A motion caught her eye, and she glanced upwards.

"Look," she smiled. Willow looked up, and noticed a sprig of mistletoe attached to the ceiling above them.

"I swear I didn't plan that," the Captain said sheepishly. "I didn't even see it was there."

"Me neither," Tara shook her head. "But... it is tradition."

"It is," Willow agreed, meeting the blonde's stare. Mesmerised, she took a tiny step forwards, and the two of them leaned forward, breathing the same air for a moment. Then they kissed - softly, slowly, with lips that parted only a fraction against each other, yet lingered together for a very long time.

Across the mess hall, Christie glanced at Nurse, who had appeared by her side, then returned her gaze covertly to her Captain and her friend as they slowly let their lips part, and smiled with new nervousness and new confidence at each other.

"Lucky that mistletoe was up there," the tactical officer grinned to the hologram.

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Nurse replied, with a surreptitious wink. As Willow and Tara rejoined the party, the mistletoe shimmered out of holographic existence.

[center]THE END[/center]

[center]Log in tomorrow to read...

by GayNow

To read is human, to leave feedback, divine.

[center][/center]

_________________
Chris Cook

Through the Looking-glass - Every world needs a Willow and Tara.

SallyMcFine reporting to the bridge to call DIBS, Captain!

ETA: Chris, thank you so much for giving us this holiday Star Trek story! The "twelfth stardate of Christmas" line cracked me up. I'm a Star Trek fan, although most of my knowledge about the Trekverse actually comes from fan fiction rather than canon (which draws on canon, but anyway) and your depiction of the Palomino and all the rich characters was masterful.

One of the hardest things in a short story for me when writing is having a lot of characters and keeping them all straight (not THAT kind of straight) and figuring out enough things for them to do AND giving enough backstory that we know who they are and what they're like without the whole thing being exposition. You did that here so well - with just one or two well-placed and well-written sentences here and there I felt like I had a good handle on who Nite was, T'Jem, Jack, etc. and what their particular quirks were.

In many ways this actually felt like a bygosh pilot episode (heh, I said "pilot") introducing the cast of characters, setting up the conflicts, and giving them a couple of storylines to work on - the Ferengi and what Willow wanted to give Tara for Christmas. In the Trek tradition I can see futher episodes in the future, some centered around the WT relationship, some giving more backstory to the other crew members, all interspersed with new life and new civilizations.

Also, the kiss scene was so well done and sweet - yay for the Nurse!

Live long and prosper, Chris.

_________________
Stocking Stuffers: Little Gifts from RKT

wow. it's strange, i never thought i'd like a fiction based or really set in a star trek based storyline. but i read it and it was amazing. just thought i'd let you know. but yeah, it was really good.

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I love my Baby!!!!!!

Sorry I'm late in giving fb - I've been having a little trouble with my computer.

Justin - Good story! It's really difficult to buy a present for someone you don't know that well so I understand how Willow & Faith feel. Very devious of Tara & Buffy to set them up.

Cameron - You had me going at first. I thought your story was going to be about our girls meeting for the first time. I love it when Tara gets flirty cos it completely knocks Willow for six.

Emms - Nice one! I always feel sorry for Tara, knowing how much her father despised her. It's nice to read a story where she finds out that her Dad did love her. Having him watch over her was so sweet.

Chris - I'm a big Star Trek fan, so putting our girls into that setting is great! Their presents to each other were brilliant - I love xmas pudding! I think that Willow's present to Tara was the best though. I can think of no better way for Tara to get to know Willow.

Thanks.

Caz

Chris, what a great story! I'm not usually a big trekkie or sci-fi person but I knew that you would deliver great characters and a wonderful plot. There were so many delicious elements of this story, from Nite's burgeoning manhood (loved that line) to Jem's inspired and dedicated pursuit of human emotional expression and nuance to the Ferengi's delicate GI tract...(By the way, if the Palomino is ever in my sector of the universe, please ask Jack to stop by. Ahem.) And of course, Willow and Tara came through so clearly and so delightfully. The moment under the mistetoe--which could have been so cliched, b/c it so frequently is--was touching and sweet and understated and erotic. Well done, Chris!

Mary

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I always wanted to be somebody, but I realize now I should have been more specific. Lily Tomlin

Goodness, I've fallen behind with my feedback!

Justin,

I really liked your story! I thought you had some amazing moments of comedy in there. hehe....here is one of my favorites...



hehehe

And this really had me laughin too



I could so picture that comin' from Xander. hehehe

I liked how you were able to incorporate everyone into the story. I think you did a really great job Justin!

xoxo
Emms

_________________
G Wing

Justin, very enjoyable. i really liked your blend of broad humor (like the lightbulb, too funny) with a more realistic portrayal of the problems of blending family. also enjoyed the cameos, esp. the common areas shout out, i think we could all use that mailbox once in a while, and faith's slightly stronger than friendly handshake. if willow and faith can learn to joke with each other it will go a long way in building a relationship.

Cam, you gave my white trash heart a big smile. i spent every part of every summer when i was growing up with my grandparents in a town pop. 150, and dwindling, and the service station there may as well have been red's. of course nothing remotely this interesting ever happened to me there (maybe cause i had a blue schwinn instead of a red truck). you had me going right along with every minute of the over-the-top flirting, but it was even more delightful to find it was all a little impromptu roll playing. ~mary

_________________
you toyed with my heart like it was a toy heart ~ lisa simpson

Oooh I'm a bit behind on feedback too, so just some short replies for now as I'm not feeling particularly articulate.

A Holiday Pickup: This was great fun. I have to say, right at the beginning I suspected all was not as it seemed - something didn't quite seem right - but as the story went on, I began to think that maybe they really were indeed total strangers to eachother. I was very relieved to finally work out that it was all a game, after all, because Tara being so forward reminded me scarily of Faith! Sexy, but I definitely prefer our sweet shy Tara. The ending with sweet, if a tad predictable, but you managed to keep it interesting with some saucy present-hunting.

Winter Harvest: This was simply a beautiful story, it gave me chills (in a good way!). The whole atmosphere of it was so wintery, and seemed to have that 'it's cold outside but I feel warm inside' feeling that you get when you've got a hot waterbottle on a really cold night, which is my favourite time of year. And as a huge animal lover myself, Tara as a vet was greatly appealling to me! I just loved this, such a calm, healing thing to read.

Stardate: Christmas Eve: I don't know much about Star Trek, but I shall read this anyway! I've got square eyes now though, so shall sit down and read properly tomorrow when I can focus.

Well ok, that wasn't very short feedback... I always ramble.

[center][/center]

Title: All You Can Eat
Author: GayNow (Carleen)
Email: cmspry2@gmail.com
Feedback: Yes, please.
Distribution: Archiving is fine…please let me know where so I can call all my friends and yell, "Look! I'm famous!"
Rating: Um…R to NC – 17…depending on your own sensibilities
Disclaimer: BtVS characters, concepts and dialog belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, The WB, UPN and others. The story, however, came out of my delusional little brain.
Summary: I’m joining Debra and Cam…no summary
Author's Notes:

• Make sure you’re nice and comfy…this is a long one. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
• Thank you so much to the other Fruitcakes involved in this project. It’s been a blast. And your support has meant a lot to me. Also, thank you so much for allowing me to include you all in my story. I hope the cameos I’ve written for you are as fun for you to read as they were for me to write.
• I have to give special, super-dee-duper thanks to the lovely AntigoneUnbound for filling in for the watty-boss (who is on vacation…the nerve of some people). Mary put up with quite a bit from me…the woman is a saint…a SAINT , I tell you!
• Thoughts in italics
• Thanks to Chris Cook for the super spectacular graphics!

Required Elements: Eight maids a-milkin', whining kids, eating too much[br]
******************************[br][br]
Tara gazed out the bedroom window as she put on her earrings. It was a perfect winter day in Sunnydale: the sun shone brightly, its rays caressing and warming the world around the home she shared with Willow. [br]
“Willow,” Tara whispered adoringly. [br]
She couldn't hold back her smile as she thought of her girl. She turned away from the window and moved toward the bed. Making the bed was usually an easy task – only one half of the bed got used most of the time. For sleeping, anyway. This particular morning, however, called for a more involved process; the events of the previous night left the bed in a distinct state of disarray. After stripping the sheets from the bed and depositing them in the hamper, Tara retrieved fresh sheets from the hall closet. She made short work of putting the clean sheets on the bed and picked up the comforter from where it had lain in a heap on the floor after being unceremoniously shoved away by the bed's rather active occupants. [br]
The pillows…ah, the pillows. Tara slowed down her efforts, efficiency no longer part of her plan. She picked up one pillow and gently cradled it to her chest, burying her face in the fluffy softness. She inhaled deeply. Willowscent. A stream of liquid heat coursed through Tara's body. Nearly six years and just the smell of her…the thought of her still gets me hot. Shaking her head, Tara chuckled and quickly changed the pillowcase. She repeated the process for the second pillow, placed them both in their proper positions at the head of the bed, and deposited the soiled pillowcases in the hamper with the rest of the musky sheets. [br]
“You're hopeless, Maclay. Blissfully, deliriously hopeless,” she spoke aloud and chuckled as she made her way to the door. [br]
Tara approached the bottom of the stairs and turned toward the living room. She leaned against the doorframe and took in the sight before her, a smile gracing her features. [br]
Willow was perched precariously at the edge of the couch. She leaned in close to the laptop sitting on the coffee table. Her face was drawn in concentration – her brow knitted, her eyes focused slits, her tongue poking between her lips, her red hair disheveled from running her fingers through it. [br]
In short, she was a picture of beauty. [br]
Tara marveled at how much passion she still felt for the petite redhead. The years had not diminished the intensity of their relationship. Just when I think she can’t get any more beautiful… Tara’s eyes trailed over the figure before her. Even wearing my rumpled sweatpants and t-shirt, she’s so damned sexy. Tara pushed away from the doorframe and walked quietly toward her lover. She knew Willow needed to work, but right then, Tara just needed to be near her girl. The honeymoon is definitely not over. She smiled and continued her approach. It never will be. [br]
Engrossed in her work, Willow did not notice Tara draw near. She'd been working on the project for weeks and she still couldn't figure out the final bug in the program. It was annoying her. One line. One line of code is kaplooey. Willow ran both hands through her already mussed hair and dropped her head, her fingers linking behind her neck. “Shit!” [br]
My poor girl, thought Tara, who had moved to sit cross-legged on the couch near Willow. Upon hearing the expletive escape Willow's lips, Tara knew she needed to intervene and take matters into her own hands. Literally. She shifted her position with the stealthy grace of a panther. [br]
Willow returned her fingers to the keyboard in front of her and took a deep breath, steeling herself for the task ahead. I'm going to get this, dammit. Now, where is it? C'mon, little code…come to Mamma. The soft sensation of gentle hands brushing her hair aside brought Willow out of her thoughts. She knew that touch. Willow instantly relaxed, leaning toward the touch, drawn to it. “Mmm, Tara.” [br]
“Hey, Sweetie,” Tara murmured into the redhead's neck. “Is that…program…still…giving you…problems?” As she spoke, Tara trailed light kisses along Willow's neck and jaw line, finally moving to nibble on her love's ear. She settled herself directly behind Willow and wrapped her arms around the smaller woman's waist. Hoping to move Willow away from the edge of the couch and more fully into her arms, Tara tightened her hold and urged Willow to scoot back. [br]
Willow didn't need further convincing. Immediately, she moved herself back on the couch, putting a hand on each of Tara's thighs to give her leverage. As she settled back into her Tara-cocoon, Willow sighed contentedly. “Mmm, program? What program is that, Baby? Right now the only thing on my mind is a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed goddess.” She twisted around a bit so she could look into the clear blue of Tara's eyes. “I love you.” [br]
Tara's gaze met equally clear green eyes and she smiled. “I love you too, Willow. With all my heart.” She placed a quick kiss on the tip of Willow's nose and, with a sultry grin, added, “and a few other parts, too.” [br]
Willow laughed and leaned more fully into Tara's embrace. “Mmm…I got a taste of how much those other parts love me last night,” she purred, her hands caressing the legs that were straddling her. “Pun completely intended.” [br]
As she resumed her assault on Willow's neck, Tara's hands snuck underneath the redhead's shirt. She shivered when she felt the smooth expanse of Willow's stomach. Willow's answering gasp shot through Tara's body and settled at her core. Oh God. She continued to focus her attention on the smooth skin under her lips, speaking between kisses and nibbles. “You certainly did taste my parts last night.” She paused for a moment, her hands moving further up Willow's torso, before continuing. “And, um, did they taste good?” [br]
Willow moaned as she felt Tara's hand reach the underside of her breast. She arched into the touch and smiled. “Oh yeah, Baby, sooo good. Very, very yummy.” [br]
“As yummy as six years ago?” [br]
“Yummier.” [br]
Tara smiled and nuzzled deeper into Willow’s neck, nipping at her beloved’s pulse point. “Mmm, good,” she murmured as she slid her hands to cover Willow’s breasts, gently rubbing her palms against the hardened nipples. [br]
“Oh, Tara.” Willow felt as though her blood were boiling; the heat coursing through her veins moved swiftly toward the apex of her thighs where it began a steady, pulsating beat. So glad I decided against the bra today. So very, very glad. Willow’s right hand snapped up to hold Tara’s in place as she reached behind her lover with her other hand and wrapped it around Tara’s neck, pulling the blonde into a searing kiss. [br]
As Willow’s body writhed against hers, Tara felt her own nipples harden as they rubbed against Willow’s back. She lost herself in the kiss. She always lost herself in Willow-kisses. Always. Besides the fact that Willow was just a damned good kisser, Tara felt as if they were touching the innermost parts of each other. It went beyond the physical sensations – though Tara couldn’t deny that the physical was oh so nice. [br]
Willow felt as though her skin were on fire. Tara’s hands were relentless: firmly massaging Willow’s breasts, gently pinching and tugging at her hardened nipples. She released Tara’s lips and gasped, her breathing becoming more and more shallow. Willow closed her eyes and let her head fall back onto Tara’s shoulder. “Mmm, Tara…that feels so good.” She arched her back, craving even more of her lover’s touch. Want Tara. Need Tara. Willow pulled Tara to her, resuming her attack on the blonde’s full lips. Tara-lips. Tara-tongue. Must. Have. More. Tearing herself away from the Heaven that was Tara’s kiss, Willow quickly turned her body and settled on Tara’s lap, straddling her beloved’s thighs. She tore her shirt roughly over her head, flung the garment across the room, and pulled Tara back into a heated kiss. [br]
As their tongues passionately battled for dominance, Tara wasted no time in taking advantage of Willow’s half-nakedness. She quickly regained her hold on Willow’s breasts, kneading the flesh and closing her fingers around the redhead’s rock-hard nipples. The feel of Willow’s hips rolling against her lower stomach forced out a groan that Tara swore came from her toes. She needed Willow-skin, and she needed it now. Leaving Willow’s red, swollen lips, Tara made her way down her lover’s neck, trailing a blazing path with her tongue until she reached the redhead’s pulse point. She bit down and sucked on the sensitive flesh – not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make her presence known. [br]
“Tara,” Willow gasped out her beloved’s name and buried her hands in silky hair, holding Tara to her as the rhythm of her hips increased in intensity. Coherent thought was quickly making itself scarce. Before she lost complete control of her mind and body, Willow struggled to speak. “I think…mmm…oh God…I can’t think…Tara…bedroom…now…ngah…all day…want you…yes, right there…please, Baby.” [br]
Tara moved her way further down Willow’s body, leaving wet, hot kisses along her collarbone. When she reached Willow’s breasts, she pushed them together and quickly flicked her tongue over Willow’s nipples. “Can’t. Not all day,” she breathed and she circled her tongue around the pebbled areolas. “Youth center. Have to help. Kids expecting me.” She concluded by taking one of Willow’s nipples into her mouth and devouring it. Her hands wrapped around her lover’s body, palms flat against Willow’s back, pulling Willow more deeply into her mouth. Tara was startled when Willow’s breast was pulled away from her questing lips and tongue. She looked up into green eyes, confused. “Sweetie?” [br]
“Today? You’re going to just stop and leave me like this? You can’t stop!” The look on Willow’s face was incredulous. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Not my Tara. No no no. [br]
“Willow,” Tara smirked at her girlfriend, “I’m not the one who stopped, Love.” Her hands continued to move in sensual patterns along Willow’s spine, her fingers dipping lower to caress just above Willow’s tailbone. [br]
“But, you said-“[br]
“I said, ‘not all day,’” Tara interrupted the flushed redhead, all the while continuing her tantalizing caresses. “I didn’t say anything about stopping.” She slid her hands under the elastic of Willow’s sweat pants and cupped her lover’s smooth derrière, squeezing the soft flesh and pulling Willow closer. [br]
Willow closed her eyes and let a moan escape as she felt her center press more firmly against Tara’s stomach. “God, Tara.” She’s torturing me, that’s what she’s doing. And I love every minute of it. “Okay, but…mmm…the fact remains, you’re going…oohh…to leave. And I’m going to…mmm, God…be here alone…in this big…ahhh…house, just thinking about you…use your nails, Baby…and wanting you all day.” [br]
“You don’t…have…to be…alone,” Tara hummed between kisses on any piece of exposed skin within her reach. Finishing – for the moment – with a quick bite on an accessible nipple, she looked at her flustered girlfriend and continued. “Come with me.” [br]
“Oh yeah, that’s more like it, Baby. I want to come with you. Now. Want you now,” Willow growled as Tara continued to lave her breastbone. [br]
Tara chuckled, briefly ceasing her ministrations to smile at Willow. “To the youth center, Sweetie. You can go with me to the youth center.” [br]
“Go with you?” Willow’s eyes widened, her pupils still dilated in arousal. “Me? And…and kids? Can’t you just stay home today?” She stuck out her lower lip in what she considered a foolproof pout. “Please?” [br]
Tara reached up and grasped the protruding lip with her own, nipping seductively. “You know I can’t, Sweetie,” she said as she looked deeply into the green eyes before her. “Those kids are counting on me. I can’t let them down.” She placed another kiss on Willow’s lips before trailing kisses down her neck. “Come with me. You can bring your laptop if you want. You don’t have to play with the kids. Just…be there with me.” [br]
Willow knew she would never deny Tara anything – especially when the love of her life looked at her with pleading eyes. “No” was just not in Willow’s vocabulary when it came to Tara. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t put up a struggle, albeit a fun struggle. Everything with Tara is a win-win situation. “Well…what’s in it for me?” she asked as she leaned back, placing a hand on each of Tara’s knees, effectively thrusting her now thoroughly soaked core into Tara’s body. Willow smiled salaciously. [br]
As the scent of Willow’s arousal reached Tara’s senses, the blonde bit down on her lower lip and let out a shaky breath. Her hands ran along Willow’s fleece covered thighs, stopping at her lover’s hips. She grasped the material in her fists and pulled Willow even closer. Snaking one arm behind Willow’s lower back, Tara pulled the redhead’s torso to her and planted feather light kisses along her cleavage. “What’s in it for you,” she whispered, “is an all-you-can eat Christmas buffet when we get home.” [br]
Willow’s jaw dropped. “A buffet?” She’s kidding, right? “A buffet, Tara? A Christmas buffet? I’m Jewish! I don’t want a Christmas buffet.” [br]
“Not even if I’m the main course?” Tara asked lasciviously. [br]
Willow’s smile eclipsed the tree at Rockefeller Center. “Oh, that Christmas buffet! For that I’ll sing ‘O Come All Ye Faithful,’ ‘Silent Night,’ and ‘Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer’…at midnight mass!” [br]
“So, is that a yes?” Tara asked as she slid one hand under the waistband of Willow’s panties and ran her fingers through slick folds. [br]
Willow’s hips slid toward Tara’s questing fingers as she leaned forward to touch their foreheads together. She closed her eyes and lost herself in Tara’s touch. “Yes. Oh God, Yes,” she sighed a moment later. “I’ll go anywhere with you.” [br]
“Are you sure, Sweetie? I want you to go with me, but you don’t have to unless you really-”[br]
The rest of the sentence was lost as Willow leaned in to seize Tara’s tongue. When she pulled away from Tara’s soft, warm lips, Willow spoke in a husky voice. [br]
“Anywhere.” [br]
Tara clasped Willow behind the neck and drew the redhead into a deep kiss, swallowing Willow’s gasps and moans. She broke from Willow’s lips and gazed intently into her lover’s eyes. “I love you so much, Willow,” she whispered. “Now then,” she purred, teasing the redhead’s opening with the tips of two fingers, “you were saying something about not stopping…”[br]
“Never stop,” Willow whispered as she recaptured Tara’s lips, once again relinquishing her mind and body to Tara. [br]
******************************[br]
“Mmpphh…Baby…mmm…got to…get…inside,” Willow gasped between kisses. [br]
Tara kissed along Willow’s jaw line, stopping at the redhead’s ear. “It’s your fault we’re late,” she breathed just before taking the sensitive lobe between her lips, lightly sucking and nibbling the flesh. [br]
“My fault?” Willow was finding it difficult to breathe, let alone talk. “I’m not…mmm…the one who pulled you…oh yeah…into an alcove to…ah that feels good…kiss you senseless.” [br]
With a final, flourishing stroke of her tongue along the edge of Willow’s ear, Tara leaned back to smile at her lover. “True. But you’re the one who had to sample the Christmas buffet before we left.” Tara’s eyes sparkled. [br]
“Mmm…I couldn’t help it. It’s such a delicious buffet,” Willow said, making yummy noises to emphasize her point. [br]
Tara’s laugh was full and rich. “Well, I kind of figured that out since you had three helpings.” She snuck her hand under Willow’s shirt to run her fingers over her lover’s smooth stomach. “You must be full, Sweetie.” [br]
“Full?” Willow questioned with feigned shock. “I could never have enough of your Christmas buffet.” [br]
A grin formed on Tara’s lips as she leaned in to kiss Willow again. The kiss held all the passion, but little of the frenetic need of their earlier kisses. She broke the kiss after a moment and rested her forehead against Willow’s. “I love you,” she whispered. [br]
“I love you too, Baby,” Willow responded, sweeping in to leave a quick peck on Tara’s lips. “Now,” she began, a mischievous smile crossing her features, “let’s get inside so you can work with those kids. And so we can get home.” She licked her lips. “I’m getting hungry again…I want some buffet.” [br]
******************************[br]
The first thing Willow noticed as she and Tara entered the youth center was the pulsating beat of Cher’s “Do You Believe” coming from the portable stereo in the corner. A little stuck in the 90s, but whatever. The second thing she noticed was the desk sitting in the middle of the reception area. The items on the desk were neatly organized; it seemed as if everything had a ‘home’. [br]
“Sweetie, I’m just going to check the volunteer schedule to see who else is here. I’ll be right back.” [br]
Willow turned toward Tara the moment she heard her love’s sweet voice. “Okay, Tara. I’ll be right here waiting for you,” she said with a smile as Tara stepped into an adjoining room. Bobbing her head slightly to the music, Willow glanced around the room. The walls were adorned with pictures of children engaged in various center-sponsored activities. Did that song just start over at the beginning? At the center of one wall was a large portrait of a man sporting a perfectly tailored suit and a rather toothy grin. Below the portrait was a gold plaque with an inscription. [br]
[center]RICHARD WILKINS III
Founder of the
Richard Wilkins III Youth Center
“I believe the children are our future.”[/center] [br]
Wow, want a little wine with that cheese? Willow chuckled internally. She cocked her head to the side and gazed carefully at the effervescent looking man staring back at her. Whitney’s prettier. She shook her head slightly and turned away from the portrait. Although, I’m sure this guy has done more for kids than show them how to be an anorexic crack-whore…okay…alleged crack-whore. But I still say she’s anorexic. [br]
As she continued to wait for Tara’s return, Willow surveyed the room. She neared the desk and noticed that each item on it had a small label of some sort. A rather colorful mug sat atop a UC Sunnydale coaster. Willow was reaching for the mug, planning to inspect the design more closely, when a sharp voice caused her to freeze mid-reach. [br]
“Don’t touch that!” [br]
Snapping her hand back to her side, Willow turned to see a young woman with short, dark brown hair staring at her. The woman’s hands were balled into tight fists, each planted firmly on a hip. To say that Willow was taken aback would have been an understatement. [br]
“Oh, um, I’m sorry. I was just – ” [br]
“You were just touching things that aren’t yours. Can’t you read? Everything is clearly marked with a label, so I just don’t see how you could think that touching things that aren’t yours is appropriate behavior.” The woman spoke with an air of righteous indignation, her hands gesturing wildly, as if the movement would lend weight to her argument. “I mean, the only way I could understand your confusion would be if your name is Kathy and somehow thought everything with ‘Kathy’ on it immediately belonged to you. However, I highly doubt that’s your name. And that just takes us back to the main point which is you touching things that aren’t yours!” [br]
Willow’s mouth opened and closed, but she couldn’t make any coherent sounds. [br]
“I have plenty of vowels, so do you think you could add some consonants to what you’re saying? Maybe I could get an explanation for why you were about to touch my things.” [br]
The blush on Willow’s face was initially caused from embarrassment. Now, it was from anger. Just as she was about to lay into this “Kathy” person – Rude much? I’ll give the little shit an explanation – another voice floated across the room. [br]
“Kathy!” Tara spoke sharply to the dark haired woman and moved to stand next to Willow, her hand resting protectively on the small of Willow’s back. “Calm down. This is my girlfriend, Willow. If you’re going to be upset with anyone, be upset with me. I forgot to let Willow know about your particular…quirk…when it comes to your things.” She turned to Willow, her apology clearly showing in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Will.” [br]
“It’s okay, Baby. Don’t worry about it. No harm done.” God, I love this woman. [br]
“It’s okay? No harm done?! QUIRK?!?!” Kathy’s voice went up an octave with each accusatory query. “Since when is it ‘okay’ to violate the sanctity of someone else’s personal things? What about the harm done to me and my personal space? Huh? I don’t see where you people get off – ” [br]
“We’re leaving now, Kathy. It was nice seeing you again,” Tara offered as she led Willow out of the reception area and into the heart of the center. [br]
“- thinking that you can just come in and touch all of my things.” Kathy continued her tirade as if Tara had never spoken. In fact, at that moment, neither Tara nor Willow was sure if Kathy even realized they were still in the room. “Quirk? Quirk! Huh! Just because someone wants a little of her own personal space, she suddenly has a ‘quirk’. Well, that’s just peachy!” [br]
The sound of Kathy’s voice faded away to nothing as Willow and Tara walked away from the ranting woman. [br]
“Will, I’m really sorry about Kathy. I should have warned you about her.” Tara sighed and shook her head. She led Willow around a corner and down a long, wide hallway. “The thing is, she’s really a dedicated worker. She really does love this place and puts in a lot of hours to make sure everything is on schedule. Unfortunately, she’s a little…odd.” [br]
“Odd? That’s putting it a little mildly, don’t you think?” Willow interjected, the laughter in her voice and the twinkle in her eye indicating that she wasn’t upset. “And people say I have OCD. Hmph!” [br]
Tara giggled at the expression on Willow’s face. “Yeah, she has her own OCD category, that’s for sure. But, really, she’s okay. She just takes getting used to. Plus, I make a point to stay out of her way.” [br]
“Good plan. Mental note: don’t cross Kathy’s path. Check.” Willow gave a determined nod before continuing. “At least it’s quiet again.” She didn’t notice Tara’s smirk. [br]
The couple came to the end of the hallway and faced a large set of double doors. A placard over the doorway indicated that they were about to enter the “Rec Room.” Tara turned to Willow and took the redhead’s hand in her own. [br]
“Remember, Sweetie, you don’t have to play with the kids. You’re here for me, not for them.” Tara smiled at her girlfriend and gave her a quick wink. “Ready?” [br]
Willow nodded and squeezed Tara’s hand. “Yep, I’m ready. They’re just kids. How bad can it be?” [br]
******************************[br]
As they entered, the sights and sounds that filled the room attacked Willow’s senses – and her sensibilities. [br]
Willow took in her surroundings with wide eyes. The room was large. Scattered about the floor were mats in various shapes and colors. Puzzles. Along the far wall were rows of tables and chairs – kid sized – with paints and books and pens and crayons and paper and…macaroni? At the right side of the room, Willow noticed a stage. The stage was about four feet high and ran the width of the room. Curiously, there were currently eight cows – cows? – filling the stage space. Papier-mâché cows, to be precise. And each seemed to be at a different degree of adornment. Small picnic tables occupied the left side of the room. And the closest wall, the one that had the door they just entered, was lined with coat hooks and small shelves. All of this – most of it, anyway – seemed normal to Willow; it’s what she would expect from a room that served to entertain and educate children. What she didn’t quite expect is what she saw and heard at the center of the room. [br]
Kids. [br]
They were everywhere. A dozen children, ranging from perhaps five to nine years old, were running rampant. There was no rhyme or reason to their actions; they were wild. A couple of them were sitting on the puzzle-mats, doing their best to keep others from disturbing their activities. Others were running around in circles, apparently for no reason other than they wanted to. One little girl was vaulting over the sitting children, kicking her leg high in the air when she landed, as if attacking some unseen enemy. Another little girl wearing an eye patch and carrying a plastic sword was chasing the vaulting girl, though she seemed to be having some trouble keeping pace. At the edge of the ruckus was a little boy, sitting in the middle of a bunch of toy computers – laptops – that were connected by a series of…monkeys? [br]
As if the activity wasn’t harrowing enough, twelve voices filled the room with a cacophony of random, overlapping commentary. [br]
“Who took my mistletoe?” [br]
“Arr! It’s a girl’s name, ya land lubber!” [br]
“I’m in the story! I’m in the story! I’m in the story!” [br]
“You all aren’t being organized!” [br]
“‘White Christmas’…Bing Crosby.” [br]
“Keep your hands off my wood!” [br]
“Ayi-ayi-ayi-ayi!! C’mon Gabrielle!” [br]
“Yay! Open code!” [br]
“Boobiesboobiesboobiesboobiesboobies.” [br]
“Hush! I’m telling my babies a story so they’ll go to sleep.” [br]
“What is this faksination with wood? Do you have only brothers?” [br]
“Captain, the Ferengi are off the port bow and the long-range sensors show the Romulans entering the neutral zone.” [br]
Willow covered her ears with her hands, hoping to block out the noise. She looked at Tara, expecting to see some sort of similar reaction. Instead, her girlfriend was gazing at the frenzied activity and smiling. Every now and then, a giggle or quick snort of laughter would escape from the blonde. “Baby? How can you stand it?” Willow nearly shouted over the caterwauling, clamor and commotion. [br]
What is she saying? I can’t hear Tara over this noise! Wait…‘The air kiss pillow. And Horton hears a Who’? Okay, that doesn’t make sense. [br]
“Tara, what are you saying? I can’t hear you!” [br]
Tara looked at her beloved and laughed. She reached over to remove Willow’s hands from her ears and repeated her answer. [br]
“They’re kids, Willow. It’s just what they do.” She smiled at the redhead, falling even more in love with her in that moment. “You get used to it. They’re good kids. You’ll see.” [br]
“If you say so, Tare. I trust you.” [br]
“Are you sure? You don’t have to stay in here. There’s another ro-”[br]
“I trust you.” [br]
In that moment, all of the noise went away. In that moment, Willow and Tara were the only ones in the room. [br]
“Have I told you today that I love you?” Tara asked, her voice just above a whisper. [br]
“Yes you have. Many times,” Willow responded, her breath momentarily catching in her throat. “But I never get tired of hearing it.” [br]
Tara reached up to brush a lock of hair from Willow’s brow. Her fingers traced a lingering path down the side of her girlfriend’s face, stopping to cup Willow’s cheek in her palm. [br]
Willow smiled and leaned into the touch, her eyes closing briefly before returning to gaze into Tara’s eyes. She watched as Tara’s normally crystal blue eyes deepened into a rich, dark blue – a sure sign of her lover’s building arousal. Mmm…Christmas buffet. Willow reached up to cover Tara’s hand with her own and was about to take a step forward, closing the distance between their wanting lips, when a voice pierced the bubble around them. [br]
“Are you gonna kiss?!” [br]
The couple’s eyes widened and they simultaneously looked down at the small child peering up at them. [br]
The little girl with the eye patch and toy sword watched as a flush of red spread across the lovers’ cheeks. With a hearty ‘whoop’ and a slash of her blade, she quickly spun on her heels and returned to the throng. [br]
“Arrgh, matey! They’re gonna kiss! Shiver me timbers!” [br]
Willow and Tara looked at one another in astonishment and quickly broke into peels of laughter. [br]
Tara caught her breath and ‘introduced’ the tyke to Willow. “That’s Cameron. But everyone calls her Cam. She likes pirates. A lot. The rumor is she can quote nearly all of ‘Pirates of the Caribbean.’” Upon seeing Willow’s startled expression, Tara nodded and continued. “I know. Really amazing for a 7-year-old. She has a fantastic imagination too – makes up stories about pirates and acts them out with the other kids.” [br]
“Wow,” Willow followed the little swashbuckler with her eyes, “that’s really incredible.” [br]
“It is,” Tara agreed. “But, whatever you do, don’t call her ‘Cammie’…she hates that.” [br]
“Got it.” [br]
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of someone shouting Tara’s name over the din. [br]
In the middle of the midget madness was a tall woman in her mid-thirties. At the moment, she looked like a Christmas tree decorated with kid-shaped ornaments. Little Cam had made her way onto the woman’s back and was receiving a ride from a rather unwilling ‘pony’. There was a string of small, plastic monkeys – interconnected by their arms – hanging from the side of the woman’s eyeglasses. A girl with light brown hair was dangling from the woman’s right arm. The child kept repeating the word ‘boobies’ over and over. To the left of the woman was a little girl with a calculator and a small, handheld chalkboard, insistently tugging on the woman’s pant leg. “Miss Harley, the numbers don’t add up!” [br]
“What the frilly heck?” [br]
Tara simply laughed at her girlfriend’s exclamation and the sight before her. She turned her body slightly toward Willow, but kept her eyes focused on the raucous display. “That’s Harley Davids. She’s the Director of the center. She looks a bit out of her depth, doesn’t she?” Tara continued to giggle at the display even as Harley’s expression became more pained, desperation showing clearly in her eyes. [br]
“Tara! Help me! Please!” [br]
Tara reached into a side pocket of her backpack and pulled out a kazoo. She gave Willow a wink and then took a step forward. Within seconds, Tara was playing a happy tune. I know this song. I know it! I’ve got that damned Cher song in my head. What the hell is this song? [br]
The room suddenly fell silent, save the humming of Tara’s kazoo, as 12 pair of little eyes turned in the direction of the music. The children stilled their movements for the briefest of moments before eleven voices squealed in glee. The twelfth voice stood out from the others. [br]
“BOOBIES!” [br]
Now there’s a kid with a one-track mind, Willow thought, proud of the affection her beloved clearly received from these kids. The smile on her face quickly faded as she realized that the kids – all twelve of them – were running directly toward her and Tara. [br]
STAMPEDE! [br]
Willow grabbed the laptop carrying case slung over her shoulder and held it to her chest as if it were the Holy Grail itself. Not the laptop. I won’t let you hurt my baby! She moved away from the rushing children until her back hit the wall behind her. Her eyes widened in terror as she watched the little hooligan horde rush at her Tara. “Watch out, Tara!” she called out in warning. But she wasn’t heard over the sounds of the kazoo and the thoroughly giddy children. [br]
She’ll be trampled! [br]
But Tara wasn’t trampled. In fact, just as the group reached her, Tara dropped to her knees and opened her arms wide, welcoming the children to her. She made a point of hugging each child in turn, replying to excited greetings, shushing complaints about who won’t share which toy, and generally enjoying being treated like a human jungle-gym. [br]
When there had been enough hugs and hellos, Tara stood in her place at the center of the group and raised her arms in the air, pointing her fingers as if preparing to conduct an orchestra. The children silenced themselves immediately, appearing to hold their breaths for what was to come. She looked down at one of the little boys and smiled. “Chris, can you start us off, please?” [br]
The little tyke blushed and gave Tara a shy smile. “Yes, Miss Tara,” he whispered, his tone bordering on being flirtatious. He raised his hands, prepared to clap them together. However, he realized that his hands were full. In each hand he held a 6” action figure – Captain Jean Luc Picard in his right, and Counselor Deanna Troi in his left. Chris realized his difficulty instantly and made to put the toys in his pockets; he quickly met his second obstacle. More action figures were sticking out from the edges of his pockets; every pocket was full. He looked up at Tara with a chagrined expression, but it was clear that his mind was working at maximum warp. His chagrin turned to pride as he came up with the solution to his problem. Chris took a step back, clearing a small, but sufficient, space around him. He raised his foot off the ground and brought it down sharply, stomping as he called out the cadence. “Five, six, seven, eight!” [br]
That was their cue. Tara instantly brought the kazoo to her lips and began to play; the children had perfect timing and began to sing along with the music. [br]
“Old MacDonald had a farm, ee-I-ee-I-o, and on that farm he had some COWS, ee-I-ee-I-o…”[br]
As they sang, the children began to move about the room, this time, at a less frantic pace. Instead of haphazardly running about, they moved in a quick, orderly fashion to the shelves along the front wall. [br]
“…with a moo-moo here and a moo-moo there…”[br]
Eight of the children donned paint-smattered smocks, graciously helping each other tie the closures on the back. The little girl with the calculator stood to the side to observe the others; she was smockless. She watched to make sure that the others were appropriately attired for the task ahead. “Vaulting girl” was off to the side of the group practicing punches and kicks to the rhythm of the song. [br]
“…here a moo, there a moo, everywhere a moo-moo…”[br]
In the middle of a large collection of Lincoln Logs, a girl who looked to be about eight years old began to build small structures, singing all the while. The fourth child sans smock was standing next to the little girl with the calculator, her hands clasped behind her back. She swayed back and forth as she kept in time with the song. [br]
“Old MacDonald had a farm…”[br]
The eight children wearing smocks headed toward the table bearing the various art supplies, finishing their rendition of the delightful tune as they arrived at their destination. [br]
“eeeeee-IIIIII-eeeeee-IIIIII-oooooooooooooooooooooo!” [br]
Willow still had her back pressed firmly against the wall. She watched in amazement, unable to move or speak, as chaos gave way to routine and order. Her eyes traveled from the children around the room to Tara, standing in the same spot as when the song started. The redhead was enthralled by the power Tara had over the children. They’re totally enraptured by her. They’ll do anything she asks. They’ll follow anywhere she leads. Willow’s mind was whirling. In all of their years together, she’d never seen this side of Tara. She’s the friggin’ Pied Piper! [br]
“That was excellent, everyone! I’m proud of you,” Tara said to the kids, speaking to them as if they were miniature adults. “Now, today is the last day to decorate your cows. You need to get them finished. Is everyone clear on that?” [br]
Eight heads nodded in response. Seven voices spoke in unison. [br]
“Yes, Miss Tara.” [br]
The eighth voice stood out from the rest. [br]
“Boobies!” [br]
Tara turned to face Willow. She gave her girlfriend a sweet smile and held out her hand, beckoning the redhead to her with one crooked finger. [br]
Still clutching her laptop, Willow cautiously made her way to Tara’s side. She took the proffered hand and smiled back at the blonde. [br]
“Everyone, this is Willow,” Tara said as she turned back to the group. [br]
“Hi, Miss Willow!” [br]
Willow gave the children a nervous wave with the hand that was still holding tightly to Tara’s. “Hi,” she replied, attempting to give them a confident smile. [br]
Tara leaned over to whisper in Willow’s ear. “Sweetie, no one is going to take your laptop from you. You don’t have to hold on to it so tightly.” [br]
“What? OH!” Willow looked down to see that, indeed, her knuckles were turning white from grasping the machine. She let out a nervous laugh as she slung the carrying case over her shoulder once more. “Sorry.” [br]
“It’s okay, Will,” Tara assured her love before turning back to the kids. “Willow is visiting with us for the day. Do any of you mind if she comes around to see what you’re doing?” [br]
Cam was the first to speak up. “Miss Willow can come look at my cow!” [br]
Doing her best to hold in a giggle, Tara whispered to Willow out of the side of her mouth, “Someone has a crush.”

Willow blushed slightly and gave Tara look of mock admonishment. “Stop that,” she whispered back. She then addressed the pint-sized buccaneer. “Thank you, Cam. That would be wonderful. I’ll stop by in a bit, okay?”

Cam’s face lit up and her eyes – the one that was visible, at least – sparkled in excitement. “Yay!”

Oh yeah, Someone has a big crush, Tara mused. Can’t say I blame the munchkin though. “All right. Get your things and go work on your cows. I’ll come around and help you in a minute. Would you like it if I turned up the Christmas music a bit so you can listen while you decorate?” A small hand waving frantically in the air caught Tara’s attention. “Yes, Maru?”

“I can hear the music already, Miss Tara,” the young girl enthused. “‘Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas’ – Burl Ives.”

“You have such great hearing, Maru,” Tara chuckled. “I’m going to turn it up a bit anyway so that everyone else can hear it more clearly, okay?”

“Okay, Miss Tara,” little Maru answered, proud that she’d received such a compliment.

“Let’s get to work then,” Tara began. “The people who asked you to design such pretty cows for them will be here later to take a look. So let’s try to be finished before they get here. Off you go.”

Sixteen small hands grabbed at plastic bottles of paint, boxes of crayons, different colored pens, blunt-tipped scissors, Elmer’s glue, and various other art supplies. Once laden with their artistic implements, the children went to their respective cows and got down to business.

“Tara?”

“Yes, Sweetie? What’s up?” Tara slipped her arm around Willow’s waist and guided her toward a cabinet in the corner where the stereo was located.

Willow quirked one eyebrow and asked, “Maru?”

Tara laughed as she adjusted the volume control on the stereo. “Her name is actually Mary. But there are two Marys in this particular group. So to keep everyone from getting confused, she suggested that we call her ‘Maru’ instead. Apparently her brother is just two years older than she is. When she was a baby, he mispronounced her name and called her ‘Maru’. It became a nickname for her.”

“Oh, okay,” Willow replied, satisfied with Tara’s brief explanation. She was about to ask another question, but a small voice stopped her.

“Miss Tara?”

Tara looked down to see a 6-year-old with dark blonde hair staring up at her. She knelt down to get at eye level with the girl. “Yes, Mary?”

“Did you mean it?” Mary asked. “Are they really going to be here today?”

“Yes, I meant it,” Tara answered with a knowing grin.

Little Mary traced a small pattern on the floor with her right foot; her eyes followed the movement. A moment later she glanced up at Tara through her eyelashes. “So,” Mary began, “she’s going to be here?”

“That’s right.”

Mary beamed. “Yippee!” she exclaimed as she broke into a celebratory dance of joy.

Tara laughed at the happy display and spared a glance at Willow. She let out a soft sigh of relief when she saw the redhead smiling at little Mary. Looks like she’s starting to relax. “Mary, are you going to help me again today?”

“Oh, yes, Miss Tara!” The youngster stilled her movements and addressed Tara. “I still have three cows to look at. I might have another look at Terra’s cow later. I’ve been thinking about her pictures and have some ideas about her abstentions.” And with that, little Mary turned away from the adults and skipped toward the cow-filled stage.

Tara let a giggle escape and looked up at Willow. “I think she meant ‘obsessions’.”

Willow reached down to help Tara to her feet. “These kids are something else,” she mused. “What was that all about?”

“Ah, little Mary,” Tara chuckled. “She wants to be a therapist when she grows up and practices with the other kids in the group.”

“Who is this ‘she’ Mary asked about?” Willow was becoming more and more fascinated with the members of the group.

“Oh, yeah. Well, Mary is quite amorous when it comes to one of the people stopping by today.” Tara paused, wondering if her girlfriend wanted the full story. She noticed that Willow had her ‘go on, I want to hear this’ expression in place and continued. “The co-owners of that hot new publishing company made a sizeable donation to the center. They just asked that the kids design and decorate these cows for the company’s Christmas display. They stop by now and then to check the progress and play with the kids. Mary has taken quite a liking to one of them.”

“What little characters.” Willow looked toward the stage area and observed the group for a moment before returning her gaze toward Tara. “They sure do love you, Baby,” Willow said as she smiled at her girlfriend. She squeezed Tara’s hand and brought it to her lips to kiss the blonde’s fingers. “I can’t say I blame them; they have good taste,” she murmured into Tara’s soft skin as she lovingly kissed each and every finger. Occasionally she wrapped her lips around a small portion of a finger, moving her tongue forward to lick the very tip. “Mmm…but you just taste good.”

Tara peeked over Willow’s shoulder to see if they had any curious eyes looking at them. At least Willow’s back is to the kids…they can’t see our hands…and…GOD…what she is doing to them. She tried to maintain a neutral expression, but it became increasingly difficult as Willow continued her thorough enjoyment of Tara-fingers. “Still looking forward to that Christmas buffet?” she breathed.

“Oh yes. Very much so,” Willow replied, her voice sultry.

“Are you sure, Sweetie?”

“Very sure.”

“I wouldn’t want you to have too much and get tired of having nothing but Christmas buffet.”

“Never too much. Never get tired.”

Mmm…Cave-Willow. Tara’s eyes were locked with Willow’s. She watched as the redhead’s eyes darkened to a shade that was almost forest green. Her legs trembled slightly at the desire pooled in those eyes.

Neither woman blinked.

Seconds ticked by as they simply gazed at each other.
Neither woman moved.

“Kids are here.”

“I know.”

“I want you.”

“I want you too.”

“Not here.”

“I know.”

“Later.”

“Definitely.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“On ‘three’.”

“Okay.”

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three.” “Three.”

Willow and Tara each took one step back and dropped their hands to their sides.

“That was close,” Willow said as she released the breath she was holding.

“Yeah.” Tara gave a lop-sided grin. “Let’s go make sure the kids aren’t painting each other rather than the cows.

The couple turned and began walking toward the group of children. Amazingly, things seemed fairly calm and under control…for the most part. “Vaulting girl” was carefully moving about the stage, stealthily making her way around the cows. Occasionally she would stop and hide behind one of the bovine creations, doing her best to blend in before peeking around the cow’s rump to make sure the coast was clear. Her eyes sparkled as she spotted Cam’s cow standing in the middle of an open space. She started to make her move, but a clear voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Sally!” Tara seemed to read the girl’s mind. Her experience with this group had trained the blonde to anticipate what each child might say or do. This was one of those instances.

“Yes, Miss Tara?” Sally asked, trying her best to appear innocent.

“Remember our conversation about jumping over the cows? And other people?”

“But, Miss Tara!” the mini-warrior princess pouted, “Ares has captured Gabrielle and I have to save her!”

When she and Willow reached the spot where Sally was desperately trying to maintain her stoic warrior expression, Tara sat cross-legged next to the little girl and spoke gently. “Yes, Sally. I understand. I really, really do. It’s so important that you save Gabrielle, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s very important,” Sally insisted. “She’s my best friend. Best friends are the most important things in the whole world!” She looked up at Willow, her eyes pleading, hoping for some back up. “Aren’t best friends the most important?” she asked the visitor.

Willow looked to Tara for permission to participate. Receiving an affirming nod from her love, she mirrored Tara’s position on the floor opposite Sally. “Yes, Sally, best friends are the most important.” Willow cast a sideways glance at Tara and gave her a quick wink. Returning her attention to the little one in front of her, she continued. “But do you know what else is important?”

Sally’s brow furrowed in concentration before answering. “Having many skills?”

Willow couldn’t help but chuckle. “Okay, yes, that’s important too. But, Sally, let me ask you something. Does Gabrielle know you’re coming to save her?”

“Of course!”

“Then what’s important is that you keep yourself safe so that you can rescue her. If you hurt yourself doing dangerous things, you won’t be able to save Gabrielle, and Ares will keep her forever. And you don’t want that do you?”

“No way, Jose!” Sally crossed her little arms, a look of determination on her face.

“Well, there you go. You have to make sure that you don’t get hurt so that you can defeat Ares and get Gabrielle back,” Willow concluded. She could tell that her logic was actually registering in the girl’s active mind. “And the best way to not get hurt is to keep your feet on the ground. Be smart, don’t be dangerous, okay?”

Sally thought for a moment. She looked at Willow. It appeared as though she had made a decision. Sally held out her hand and waited for Willow to grasp it. She held the redhead’s hand for a moment and then turned to Tara. “Miss Tara, I like her. Will you bring her back with you next time?”

Tara let out a full laugh. Whether she was laughing in happiness at the kids’ acceptance of her girlfriend, or because of the wide-eyed expression on Willow’s face, she wasn’t sure. “Well, Sally, that’s up to Willow. But I’ll make sure to invite her to come back with me as often as I can, okay?”
“Yes, Miss Tara. Can I go save Gabrielle now? I promise I’ll be safe.”

“Yep, off you go!”

“I’ll see you later, Sally,” Willow called out to the girl as she turned to sneak under the legs of the closest cow.

Suddenly – and with very little grace – a body that decidedly did not belong to a child flopped onto the floor beside Tara. “I want my mommy.”

Tara giggled and gave the exhausted body a playful shove. “Don’t be such a wimp, Davids.” She turned to Willow and gave a quick jerk of her thumb toward the newcomer. “Willow, this is Harley. She runs the place and, in turn, the kids run her,” she said with a smirk before turning to face Harley and continue her introduction. “Harley, this is Willow.”

“So I finally get to meet the better half, eh, Tare?” Harley gave Willow a conspiratorial wink, which clearly indicated that she was teasing, and held out her hand in greeting. “Hey, Willow. It’s a pleasure. Glad Tara finally got you to stop by and check out our well-oiled operation.”

Willow shook the proffered hand and smiled in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Harley.”

“Well, things seem to be humming along again. Thanks, Tara. I knew I could count on you.” Harley gave Tara a smile of genuine gratitude.

“No problem…but…what happened?” Tara queried. “I mean, I thought Warren and Andrew were going to be here today. I saw their names on the volunteer schedule.”

“They were going to be here until…” Harley paused to glance back at little Chris. Seeing that he was thoroughly engrossed in his decorating, she continued in a hushed voice. “Until they found out that none other than Mr. Spock and Uhura were going to be at the sci-fi convention in L.A. tomorrow.” She shook her head. “They didn’t even call me before they left. They waited until they had driven half-way there.”

“Warren and Andrew?” Willow inquired, suddenly finding and opening into the conversation. “Are they still together?”

Tara and Harley looked at Willow, then at each other, and then back at Willow. Their confusion was clearly etched on their faces. They responded in one voice.

“Huh?”

“You said Warren and Andrew volunteer here also?” Willow waited for their answering nods. “I went to high school with them. I had no idea they were back in town.”

With a quick sideways glance at Tara, Harley turned to face Willow directly, her features wrought with concern. “‘Back in town’? Um, should I be worried? Their background checks came out okay, but the phrase ‘back in town’ is setting off my spidey senses.”

“Oh! No!” Willow was quick to answer. “No, no, no. They’re okay. You can calm the spidey tingles.” She took a breath and collected her thoughts. Way to freak out the person in charge of the kids, Rosenberg. “How do I explain Warren and Andrew? Well, they’ve been a couple for as long as I can remember. And, as you’ve already surmised, they’re sci-fi geeks in the truest sense – not that it’s a bad thing! I’ve attended a sci-fi convention or two myself.”

Tara’s eyes widened at Willow’s revelation. “You have? Where was I?”

“Oh this was long before I met you, Baby.” Willow flashed a brilliant smile and batted her eyelashes. “I wasn’t always the cool, hot yamma mamma you see before you.”

Taking Willow’s hand in her own, Tara giggled at her adorable girlfriend. “Well, I guess I just can’t picture you as anything but my hot yamma mamma.”

“Yo, Lovebirds!” Harley interrupted. “Wanna keep going with the geek-parade story? My job is on the line here.”

“Oh, yeah,” Willow said, turning her attention back to Harley, though not relinquishing her hold on Tara’s hand. “Well, after high school, they decided to road trip across the country. They mapped out every location there had ever been a quote unquote documented UFO sighting. Their plan was to visit each site and then eventually locate and prove the existence of Area 51. But, I guess they’re back now.”

“So, they aren’t whacked out loony nerds hell bent on, I don’t know, creating some kind of laser gun that will turn them invisible so they can rob all the banks in California and generally cause havoc?” Harley questioned cautiously.

“Oh my God no!” Willow laughed at the thought. “No, they are actually very bright and quite nice. With the exception of this particular no-show faux pas, they are pretty responsible guys. And they have quite an imagination, so I’m sure they keep the kids happily occupied.”

“That they do,” Tara affirmed. She gave Harley a reassuring pat on the knee. “Don’t worry about it, Davids. I’m sure Spock and Uhura were just too much for them to pass up. And don’t worry about the kids today. I’ve got Willow to help me out. Everything is under control.”

“Miss Harley!” An insistent voice broke into their conversation. The trio turned toward the voice and saw the little girl with the calculator and chalkboard walking rapidly toward them.

“Oh, what did I do now?” Harley mumbled under her breath.

Tara giggled and leaned over to whisper in Willow’s ear. “Watch this. It should be good.”

“Miss Harley, we have a problem,” the youngster insisted. The seriousness of her tone was undercut by the image of the two frolicking duckies on her little cardigan. She suddenly realized there were two other adults present and quickly corrected herself. “I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten my manners. Grandpa would be cross.” She turned first to Tara. “Hello, Miss Tara. Nice to see you again.” Then she turned to Willow. “It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Willow. I’m called Watty.”

“It’s very nice to meet you too, Watty,” Willow said with a smile. “That’s an interesting name.”

“Oh, it’s not my real name. I don’t like my real name. I do think it’s quite silly.”

“I see.” Willow resisted the urge to giggle, instead donning an expression of sincere solemnity.

“Pardon me, but I do need to speak with Miss Harley.” Watty gave Willow a quick, yet earnest smile and turned her attention to the director. “Miss Harley, according to my figures, we will need three more bottles of blue paint and two more bottles of red paint – it looks like Cam just wants nothing but red all of a sudden. But we only have one bottle of blue paint on the art table. Can you help me find more?”

“Woot! A problem I can solve!” Harley enthused as she jumped to her feet. “We have some more in the supply closet, Watty. I’ll go get it and bring it over to you, okay?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you, Miss Harley.”

Just as Harley left on her quest for more blue paint, Willow’s attention was captured by the sudden weight on her back. Small arms wound around her neck from behind, holding fast, as matching small legs wrapped around her torso. Now I’m the pony? She turned her head to see the load she’d acquired and met Sally’s beaming smile.

“Hi, Miss Willow!”

Willow chuckled and tickled the backs of little knees. “Well, hi there, Sally. Did you save Gabrielle?”

“I did! And that Ares is toast!”

“Way to go, Sally.”

“Miss Willow, Miss Tara, did you know that there are twelve of us kids but only eight cows? That means that 66% of us are getting to decorate the cows.” Sally looked at the adults with a great sense of pride. “We’re learning percentages in school.”

Watty stepped forward to address the small group. “Actually, Sally, eight is 66.6666667% of twelve. So, if you were to round up, it’s actually 67%.” She held out her little calculator with the resulting computation clearly displayed.

Sally stuck her tongue out at Watty, scrunching up her little nose in the process. “Dork.” She jumped off Willow’s back and gave her a quick pat on the shoulder. “Gotta go! I’m sure Joxer is getting into trouble somewhere.” And with that, she was off again.

Willow looked at Watty, expecting to see a hurt expression on the girl’s face. “I’m sure she didn’t mean that, Watty.”

The little number cruncher giggled, obviously not affected by Sally’s name-calling. “Oh, she did. But it’s okay. She’s almost right. I’m actually a nerd. I can’t help it…I like numbers.” Watty shrugged her shoulders and smiled as she placed her calculator back in her pocket. “Well, I should keep checking on the others to make sure they will finish on time. Goodbye Miss Tara, Miss Willow.”

Watty turned and made her way back to the stage. Her trek was brought to an abrupt halt when Sally leapt directly into Watty’s path. The two exchanged words that went unheard by the others in the room, and then broke into a fit of giggles. They grabbed each other’s hand and, together, skipped toward the rest of the group.

Willow shook her head and laughed quietly. “These kids are a riot, Tare.”

“That they are,” Tara giggled in response as she stood up and held out her hand to Willow. “Come on. Let’s go take a look at the cows.”

******************************

They made the first stop on their tour through the makeshift pasture. A girl, who looked to be the youngest of the group, sat next to her cow, carefully drawing. A small cradle with three dolls in it was on her left. As she drew, she talked to the dolls, her free hand gently rocking the cradle.

“Hi, Emmy,” Tara greeted the girl and knelt down, inviting Willow to do the same. “How are things going? Will you finish soon?”

“Oh yes,” said and smiled at Tara and Willow. “I’m almost done. I just need a couple more flowers.” She never stopped rocking the cradle.

“Wonderful, Emmy. What story were you telling your babies today?” Tara asked.

“A story about friends – you know I always use the same two friends – but this time they can do magic. They use the magic to make the flowers grow…”

As Emmy recounted her story for Tara, Willow took the opportunity to look closely at the designs on the cow. There were two dominating illustrations – landscapes. On one side of the cow, Emmy had rather skillfully created what appeared to be an arctic wonderland. She had drawn snowcapped mountain ranges from the cow’s shoulder to its rump. At the base of the mountains, Emmy painted everything white. Snow, Willow surmised. On the rump was a large, rather realistic moon hovering over the mountains. Appropriate place to put the moon, Willow chuckled to herself. She bent down to look more closely at the painting and was amazed at the technique. She painted the reflection of the moon in the snow! Willow poked her head over the back of the cow to look at Emmy. The youngster was still telling her story, all the while rocking the cradle with one hand and drawing with the other. She can’t be more than five…six at the most.

Willow returned to her spot kneeling next to Tara. Emmy seemed to be nearing the end of her tale.

“…so when she found the gooses that her daddy made for her, she knew that her daddy really did love her. And she felt better and didn’t get as sad when she thought about him after that.”

Tara clapped softly when Emmy finished speaking and glanced at Willow. She was pleased to see the redhead applauding as well. “Emmy, what a wonderful story!”

“Thank you, Miss Tara,” the girl whispered, a blush swiftly coloring her cheeks. “May I go change my babies’ diapers? I think they tinkled.”

“Sure, Emmy. Be careful.” Tara grinned as Emmy expertly picked up all three dolls and carried them toward a corner of the room.

“She’s really good, Baby,” Willow whispered when Emmy was out of earshot. “Did you see the arctic landscape on the other side?”

“I have seen it.” Tara smiled at the wide-eyed look of amazement on Willow’s face. “And, yes, she is really good. And her talents are so diverse: she paints and draws; she can use chalk, pencils, pens, or crayon all to stunning effect; and, for a five and a half year old, her depictions of people are surprisingly realistic.” Tara nodded her head toward the cow. “And on top of everything, her art tells a story.”

_________________

Frivolous Views

Willow turned to look at the drawing Emmy was working on moments earlier. Again, the image covered the cow’s entire side. It was clearly a farm – two-story house at the end of a gravel driveway, a barn connected to a pasture where a few horses were grazing, further in the distance there was a field of golden wheat. The image that seemed to draw the most focus, however, was the field of sunflowers.

The flowers on the left side were dry and haggard; they were dying. As Willow’s eyes traveled across the floral illustration, she noticed that they gradually took on more vibrancy – the colors became richer, the stalks got taller, the flowers themselves got bigger. At the far right side, where the sunflowers seemed most alive, Emmy had drawn two girls, teenagers, holding hands and looking at the field. There were little sparks where their hands were joined and a bright glow surrounded them. Magic.

“Wow,” was all Willow could say. It was one of the few times that anything other than Tara’s lips pressed against her own had left her speechless.

Emmy returned a moment later, obviously an expert at quickly and efficiently changing her babies’ diapers. She settled the three dolls back into the crib and once again took her place beside the cow, ready to complete her creation.

“You’re doing very well, Emmy,” Tara told the girl.

“Thank you, Miss Tara.” Little Emmy beamed, pleased with the praise. “I’m going to tell my babies another story. This one is about two girls who don’t like each other at first. Their families have been fighting each other just forEVER. But when they meet each other, they know that they just have to be friends.”

“That’s sounds lovely, Sweetie,” Tara said with a smile. “We’re going to go check on the others now. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Yes, Miss Tara.”

Willow and Tara wandered around the stage, observing the children as they concentrated on their creations. Willow was absolutely in awe. She’d always known that Tara loved children. It was one of the things she loved about the blonde. But this was the first time Willow had actually seen Tara interact with kids. She glows, Willow thought, stealing sideways glances at her girlfriend. There’s so much pride in her eyes when she looks at them. It’s as if they’re her kids.

“Arrgh, Miss Willow!” Cam’s voice brought Willow out of her reverie. “Come look at my cow, matey.”

“Go ahead, Sweetie,” Tara chuckled, giving Willow a playful nudge. “Your new girlfriend wants to show off a bit.”

“Oh shush,” Willow whispered and gave Tara a mock glare.

Tara laughed and gave Willow a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s okay, Will. I know you’re coming with me at the end of the day.”

Willow’s breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes. “Oh God, Tara,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

Realizing what she’d just said, Tara’s eyes widened in embarrassment. “Home! You’re coming home with me.” Tara’s face was a particularly bright shade of scarlet.

“You’ve got that right, Baby.” Willow took a deep breath and willed her heartbeat to slow down. She looked directly into Tara’s eyes. “You’re the only one I’m coming…home…with.” Her features scrunched in thought for a moment. “And, you know, that sentence was constructed very badly. I mean, I know it’s okay these days to end a sentence with a preposition, but it still just doesn’t feel right to me. On the other hand, ‘the only one with whom I’m coming’ seems to be even more awkward, doesn’t it? And, well, it definitely doesn’t sound sexy at all. But, oh Baby, you are certainly very, very sexy and I guess I just lose all proper language skills when you’re around, which is pretty much all the time. So it’s amazing that I’m ever able to form complete sentences at all and maybe I should just shut up now because I’m starting to think more and more about partaking in a particularly delectable Christmas buffet and I don’t think this is the appropriate time.”

Tara simply smirked at her love. “Wow, Will…you didn’t even pass out. I’m proud of you.” She chortled when Willow gave her a playful slap on the arm. “Get going, Sweetheart. Davey Jones Junior over there is going to think you’re ignoring her. I’ll check on the other kids.”

Willow watched as Tara walked toward one of the other children. A small body wrapping itself around her leg quickly gained her attention. She looked down to see that Cam had a firm grasp on her right leg and was looking up at Willow with a wide smile.

“Come down here, Miss Willow…you’re too tall,” Cam suggested.

“Sorry about that, Cam,” Willow responded as she gently dropped to the floor next to the pint-sized pirate. She sat Indian-style, facing Cam’s cow. Grasping the girl around her waist, Willow picked Cam up easily and settled the child on her lap. “Now, let’s take a look at your cow.”

Cam’s cow was a veritable potpourri of images and colors. Though, it seemed as though one color in particular was beginning to dominate the design. Watty was right…Cam is into red today.

For her part, little Cam settled happily onto Willow’s lap, snuggling up to the redhead.

Cam’s cow was covered in stick figure drawings of various sizes. The pictures seemed to be different representations of the same person, as evidenced by the freshly painted red hair on each stick figure.

“Cam, are those drawings supposed to be me?”

The little girl’s face quickly turned red. “Yes, Miss Willow,” she answered in a shy whisper. Cam looked up at Willow and continued with a great deal of sincerity. “I think you’re pretty. So, I wanted to put you on my cow.”

Willow wrapped her arms around the tyke and hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Cam. That’s very sweet of you.” She smiled as she felt Cam wiggle with glee. “Would you tell me about the pictures?”

“Okay!” Cam bounced on Willow’s lap, clearly excited at the prospect of sharing her vision with the beautiful redhead. As she talked, she pointed out each of the drawings. “That one is you as a cowboy…you know…like in the old west with the Indians. It kinda makes you look like a boy, but you’re still pretty…so it’s okay. That one over there is you as a shy girl. It doesn’t really look like it, but that’s a fuzzy, pink sweater. I couldn’t get the color right. Oh! This one is you as an evil person. See? You’re wearing all black; bad people wear all black. And over here, that’s you as a spy. But you’re not really a spy…people just think you are. You’re really just a normal girl going to school.” Cam looked up at Willow to make sure the object of her puppy love understood what she meant. “But that one over there is my favoritest.”

Of course, Willow thought as she gazed at the final drawing. Me as a pirate. The stick figure in question was larger than the others. The shock of red hair on the drawing’s head seemed to be blowing in the wind. An eye patch matching the one little Cam was wearing covered pirate-Willow’s left eye. In her right hand, she held a sword – at least Willow assumed it was a sword. She’s only seven, Rosenberg! Of course it’s a sword. Get your mind out of the gutter. The two-dimensional pirate stood on the deck of a ship. A flag with a crude image of a skull and crossbones flew from the tallest mast.

“Cam, this is just great! I really, really like it.” Willow looked down at the beaming grin on Cam’s face. “Thank you so much for drawing me.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Willow.”

The pair’s conversation was interrupted when Tara called out to Willow.

“Be right there, Tare,” Willow responded before turning her attention back to the girl on her lap. “I’ve got to go, Cam. I’m really honored that you put me on your cow.” There’s a sentence I’ll probably never use again in my whole life. “I’ll be back later, okay?”

Cam jumped up and threw her arms around Willow’s neck. “Okay, Miss Willow. Thank you for looking at my cow.”

Willow stood up and watched Cam take up her paintbrush laden with red paint before turning to join Tara. She made her way across the stage, careful not to step in any paint – or on a small child. She saw Tara sitting next to the boy with the laptops. He seemed frustrated.

“What’s up, Tare?” she inquired, plopping down next to her girlfriend.

“Willow, this is Justin. He’s having a bit of a problem and I thought you could help him.”

“Me?” This is art stuff! She glanced down at the boy; he was looking at her with a hopeful expression.

Tara nodded her head. “Uh huh.” She pointed at Justin’s cow.

At first glance, Willow thought Justin was using a Spider-man theme – Great! I’m gonna be humming that song all day now. – there were dozens of lines spanning the cow’s body, criss-crossing randomly. Willow looked more carefully and suddenly realized why her help was needed.

“Ah, I see,” she said, smiling at Tara.

“Can you help, Miss Willow?” Little Justin asked.

“I’ll sure try.”

At the ends and intersections of the lines, Justin had drawn little computers of all sorts: laptops, PCs, Macs. Each of the miniature monitors had the same image – a decorated Christmas tree.

“Well, it looks like you’re trying to build a network, right?”

“Quite right!” Justin beamed. “You’re the only one who figured that out. You’re ever so smart.” Realizing that his words must have sounded rude, Justin turned to Tara with an apologetic expression. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Tara. I don’t mean that you’re dumb. You’re very smart too. But, you don’t like computers much, do you?”

Tara giggled and ruffled Justin’s mop of hair. “It’s okay. I know you don’t think I’m dumb. And I like computers fine. It’s just that I don’t know lot about them. That’s why I asked Willow to help you.”

Justin let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I wouldn’t want you to not be my friend because you thought that I think that you’re not smart.” His brow furrowed for a moment. “That didn’t make sense, did it?”

“Of course it did, Justin,” Willow assured the boy. “Trust me, Miss Tara understands me when I babble, so understanding everyone else is a snap, right, Tare?”

“Yep! Absolutely right.”

“Alrighty then, Justin, let’s see what you’ve got here.” Willow looked closely at Justin’s web of artistic technology.

“My problem is the wires and cables, I think. I always use too many. I ran out with my real computers,” Justin explained.

Computers? How many computers can this kid have? Oh, wait, the toy laptops he was playing with…that’s right. “Is that why you were using the monkeys?”

“Yes. I borrowed my sister’s Barrel of Monkeys, but they don’t work.”

Willow held in a giggle. “Mmm…yeah. I can see where that would be a problem.”

Tara watched as Willow interacted with Justin. She had to smile as she thought about how wonderful Willow had been all day. The kids are so taken with her…I expected that, she mused. I just never thought Willow would fall in love with them. Tara had often wondered what kind of parent Willow would be. Would it come naturally to her? Would she be happy? Tara believed she had her answer. Oh yeah, definitely a fabulous parent…hmm…maybe…

“Oh, I know!” Willow’s exclamation brought Tara out of her musings. “Justin, I’ve solved the problem.”

Justin looked at Willow with wide, expectant eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” Willow confirmed with a quick nod. “You, my friend, need a wireless gateway.”

Justin turned his eyes toward the cow and cocked his head to one side, as if trying to visualize Willow’s solution. Soon he straightened up and clapped his hands. “That’s it! I can paint over all the wires and cables and then right there,” he pointed at the center of the cow, “I can have my main server – a PC, I think – and the gateway can be connected there.” He jumped up from his spot on the floor, spun around a couple of times, let out a joyous “whoop” and fell back to the floor, smiling all the while. “Thank you, Miss Willow.”

“Anytime, Justin!”

“I was having an awful time trying to fix it. But now it will be easy.”

“Sometimes, it just takes a fresh set of eyes to find the problem,” Tara offered, happy she had something useful to add.

“Well, I couldn’t use my regular way to fix things.”

Willow was intrigued. “What’s your regular way?”

“Oh, I turn it upside down. But the cow was too big…and I don’t know how to stand on my head…” Justin’s voice trailed off at the end of the sentence.

“Hey now,” Willow blurted out, seeing that Justin seemed embarrassed by his lack of cranial balancing skills. “We’ve just designed a super network! No poopy feelings.” She leaned toward Justin, as if sharing a secret, and whispered, “Besides, I don’t know how to stand on my head either,” and then winked at the little hacker.

Little Justin’s eyes grew wide and he broke into a huge smile. “Wait one moment!” He turned and scrambled a few feet away, reaching for his Power Rangers laptop case. He dug around in the bottom of the bad for a few seconds until he found what he was looking for. Justin walked on his knees back to Willow and Tara and held out a hand to each of them. “These are for you…for being so helpful.”

Willow and Tara each held out a hand to receive the offering. They looked down to see that Justin had deposited a large piece of chocolate – wrapped in decorative holiday foil – on each of their palms.

“Thank you!” the women said in unison, eliciting a giggle from the young boy.

“You’re welcome. Now, off you go. You need to talk to everyone else and I have a network to install.” Justin smiled at the adults and then readied himself to get to work.

“You know, Will,” Tara said as they moved on, “he’ll be out of college in about 12 or 13 years…”

“Way ahead of you, Baby,” Willow interrupted with a grin. “I’m already mentally preparing the ‘Vice President of Networking’ sign for his office door.”

They stopped a few feet away from the area where Chris was working. He sat amongst a large collection of action figures: Star Trek, Babylon 5, Star Wars, various comic book characters and one Barbie. Mixed in with the toys were pictures snipped from books, magazines, comics, newspapers and coloring books. At that moment, Chris was using a small pair of blunt-tipped scissors to carefully cut around Lara Croft’s shapely figure. Then, without preamble, he cut her head off.

Willow looked at the scene, shocked.

Tara chuckled.

Chris picked up a small bottle of glue and turned to his cow. He began to paste the cut-out images to the side of his bovine canvas. Willow noticed that he occasionally switched the heads and bodies, mixing and matching to create truly unique pictures.

“Another storyteller,” Willow mumbled.

“What do you mean, Sweetie?”

“Look at what he’s doing, Tare,” Willow urged, directing Tara’s attention to the designs. “By manipulating the images, he’s creating little stories.”

Tara studied Chris and his cow for a few moments. She’s right!

Chris’s cow was covered with various images, each made by juxtaposing parts pictures. He’d used the heads of women in bunny costumes on bodies belonging to Supergirl and Lara Croft. Confederate soldiers were walking through a field of cotton; a woman standing on the plantation house veranda looked on. A pair of shapely legs emerged from underneath a classic Chevy pick-up in the process of being restored. A woman lying under a waterfall, the water covering her body, while another woman looked on. Lara Croft’s head was on Seven of Nine’s body. And, oddly enough, there was a platypus with a laser strapped to its back.

“You know, Will…I think I’d like to hear some of those stories.”

“Me too, Baby.” Willow wiggled her eyebrows. Oh yeah…Tara dressed like Supergirl…yummy…mmm…Christmas buffet.

Willow’s thoughts were interrupted when she noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye.

The little girl with the mammary mania walked over and tugged on Tara’s pant leg. “Miss Tara?” The girl extended her arms and raised them toward Tara – the international sign for “I want to be picked up.”

The blonde leaned down and lifted the girl into her arms. “Hi, Terra. Are you okay?” She adjusted the small girl so that Terra was resting on her hip.

Little Terra threw her arms around Tara’s neck and squeezed as hard as she could. “Yes, I’m good,” she assured before pulling out of the embrace. “I just wanted to hug you.”

“Well, thank you. It was a very nice hug.”

Terra looked at Willow, her eyes sparkling. “Miss Willow, isn’t Miss Tara the nicest and prettiest lady ever?”

Willow gently pinched the little tyke’s nose and laughed. “Definitely.”

“She has nice boobies too.”

Tara blushed furiously, but spared a glance at Willow, gauging the redhead’s reaction and wondering how she would respond to the declaration.

Okay, Rosenberg…keep it simple, Willow told herself as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully and looked at her girlfriend. She dropped her hands and rested them on her hips. “Yes, she does,” she agreed. Can’t get simpler than that. When little Terra turned away from her to give Tara another hug, Willow mouthed “very nice” so that only the blonde could see. She was pleased when Tara turned a deeper shade of red.

Little Terra wiggled her fingers at Willow, a clear request for the redhead to move closer. When Willow was close enough for Terra’s liking, the little girl leaned over, cupping her hand around Willow’s ear, and whispered, “I’m gonna marry her someday.” Naturally, the six-year-old’s whisper was loud enough for Tara to hear the pronouncement.

Tara looked into her lover’s eyes and immediately knew what Willow’s response would be. Oh, Terra, I hope Willow doesn’t break your little heart.

A sweet smile graced Willow’s features. She gazed lovingly at Tara before turning to the little one in the blonde’s arms. “Well, Kiddo, I hate to tell you this, but you’re gonna have to get in line behind me. I have dibs.” Willow ruffled the girl’s hair good-naturedly.

Terra gave a cute pout and looked from Willow to Tara. She thought for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders. “Oh well, that’s okay. My gay boyfriend would be sad if I married someone else.” The youngster gave Tara one more hug and then asked to be put down. “I need to get something for my cow,” she gushed and ran over to Chris.

_________________

Frivolous Views

Willow and Tara watched as Chris looked up at little Terra and gave the girl a welcoming smile.

“Chris, can I have some of your pretty pictures for my cow?”

“Uh huh,” the boy said, pointing at a pile of snapshots. “Those are the ones I’m not using. I’m almost done, anyway.”

“Yay! Thank you!” little Terra enthused as she spent a moment rifling through the pictures. When she had made her choices, she returned to her cow.

Not wishing to disturb Terra as she set back to work, Willow and Tara moved a bit to the side of the area and looked at Terra’s cow.

“Why am I not surprised?” Willow whispered to Tara, letting out a quiet giggle.

Tara chuckled and murmured, “Probably for the same reason I’m not surprised.”

There were breasts everywhere: large breasts, small breasts, stick figures with full orbs at the chest area, perky breasts, sagging breasts and every other kind of breast imaginable.

At the moment, little Terra was filling the blank spaces on her cow with the pictures Chris had given to her. Naturally, she had chosen images of women whose breasts were prominently displayed.

“Terra,” a confident voice spoke, “you need to fix a few of those.” Maru had walked over and knelt down beside the other little girl, pointing at one of the stick figures. “Look, the right one is bigger than the left one. It’s not sim-, sem-, symmitricycle…it’s not even.”

Terra cocked her head to one side and looked at the image closely. “Yep, you’re right. I’ll fix it,” she said determinedly and then turned to Maru. “Do you see any more?”

The two children chatted for a few more moments, Maru pointing out trouble spots and suggesting how to make alterations. Terra thanked her friend for the help and settled in to sort out the unbalanced bosoms.

Maru sauntered back to her own creation and resumed her work, humming as she worked. Every once in a while, she would pause for a fraction of a second, cease all humming and movement, and then murmur the title and artist of whatever song happened to be wafting through the room. She would then add that information to her cow. As it was, the bovine was covered in a bevy of holiday tunes. Maru mainly stuck to carefully writing out whatever Christmas carol she heard coming through the speakers in the large rec room. Though, interspersed throughout the words, were little images that seemed fitting with the songs. A sleigh being pulled by eight reindeer – or what appeared to be reindeer…if you squinted your eyes – accompanied “Here Comes Santa Clause”. A brightly decorated Christmas tree was surrounded by the lyrics to “O Tannenbaum.” Next to “Joy to the World,” Maru had drawn a picture of a smiling Earth.

Willow smiled when she noticed the drawing of a dreidel. “She’s a smart kid, Tare. Not only does she know the German lyrics to ‘O Tannenbaum,’ she’s astute enough to include ‘The Dreidel Song.’”

Tara chuckled as she led Willow to another area of the stage. “Yeah, she is. And I always get a kick out of how she and Terra work together. It’s really cute.”

They stopped next to a cow that had drawings and cut out pictures of all sorts of holiday plants and flowers. Poinsettias seemed to dominate the space. Next to one particularly large picture of a deep red poinsettia were facts, myths and care instructions for the favored holiday plant.

“Hi, Janna,” Tara said as she knelt next to the girl studiously decorating the cow. “How are things going here?”

“Oh, just fine, Miss Tara,” Janna answered with a smile. “I’m finished, actually…have been for a while. I’m just touching things up and making sure it’s okay since I have some extra time.”

“That’s great, Janna.” Tara invited Willow to join them on the floor and then introduced her to the young girl. “Willow, this is Janna. She is our ten-year-old botanical expert.”

“Nice to meet you, Janna. I was looking at what you put on the cow…you do know quite a lot about plants and flowers.” Willow grinned at the youngster, reminded of her own love of science as a child.

“Yes, but not as much as I’d like to. I’m still learning,” Janna said and frowned slightly. Her eyes suddenly lit up and she addressed both adults, “Did you know that poinsettias aren’t really poisonous? Everyone thinks they are, but they’re not. Oh! And everyone thinks the big red leaves make the flower, but they don’t. They’re just leaves. The actual flower is the tiny part in the middle of the leaves. Did you know that, Miss Willow?”

Yep, definitely like me as a kid. “I didn’t know that, Janna. But I’m glad you told me. That’s very interesting.”

“Mistletoe is even more interesting, Miss Willow.” Janna turned her body so that she could face Willow and Tara directly. “You see, a long, long time ago, people thought that mistletoe grew right out of bird poop!” She scrunched up her face as if she smelled the poop as she spoke. “And lots of birds pooped on small tree branches. The original name for it was ‘misteltan’. So, breaking down the word: ‘mistel’ means ‘dung’…or poop…and ‘tan’ means ‘twig’. Mistletoe actually means ‘dung-on-a-twig.’ Kinda makes you think twice before kissing someone under it, huh?” Janna giggled at her own joke.

Willow and Tara giggled right along with the girl.

“You’re right, that is interesting, Janna,” Tara chimed in. “I think your cow looks lovely. You keep looking it over and we’re going to see how everyone else is doing. Okay?”

“Okay!” And with that, Janna turned back to add some finishing touches to sprigs of holly, one festively positioned between the cow's crossed eyes.

“I just can’t help thinking about how amazing these kids are, Tara,” Willow enthused with wide eyes. “I mean, they’re just so creative and inspiring.”

Tara smiled lovingly at Willow and took the redhead’s hand as they continued on through the holiday pasture. “I know, Sweetie. That’s why I love coming here. So much of my own writing and art comes from them.”

“Hey, Miss Tara!” Another young voice cut through the general clatter of the room. “C’mere and look at what I’ve done!”

“Willow, this is Debra,” Tara said as the two approached the girl. “So what are you up to, Debra?”

“Well, I think I’m just about done with my cow, actually,” Debra said with a proud smile.

“Fabulous, Debra! That’s great.” Tara turned to Willow and directed her girlfriend’s attention toward the cow in front of them. “Debra is another of our storytellers, Will. Often her tales reach epic proportions; they’re quite grand.”

“Yes, I like putting together an interesting story. I’ve gotten pretty good at it; I’ve been practicing for a while.” Debra took Willow and Tara’s hands in her own and drew them closer to her creation. “I’ve written a story to put on the cow. Because of the nature of the project, I had to put in illustrations as well. I usually just work with words. But I guess I needed to do a bit more for this one.”

“Well, what’s the story about, Deb?” Willow asked and then quickly realized her use of the abbreviated moniker. “Oh, is it okay if I call you ‘Deb’? I mean, I shouldn’t have just assumed that was okay. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

“No, it’s okay,” Debra assured the redhead. “I don’t mind being called Deb. Just, please, don’t ever call me Debbie. I really don’t like it at all. And also please remember that it’s ‘Debra’ – D-E-B-R-A. It’s not “Deborah” – D-E-B-O-R-A-H. It’s never ever ‘Debbie’ or ‘Deborah’.” She looked directly into Willow’s eyes, giving the woman a “do I make my self clear?” look that would broach no argument.

“‘Debra’ or ‘Deb’ it is. Gotcha,” Willow agreed, her expression the epitome of seriousness.

Tara stifled a laugh and did her best to mirror the look on Willow’s face.

“Good. Thank you. Now then,” Debra said, turning their attention to the literary bovine before them, “this particular story is one of my better ones. You see this girl here?” She pointed to a small drawing of a young girl standing alone, looking sad and forlorn. “Well, her best friend died. And she was just torn up about it. She had many other friends, but none like the one who died. She decided that she just had to be with her friend again.”

“Oh, that’s so sad, Debra,” Tara whispered.

Willow moved behind Tara and wrapped her arms around the blonde’s waist, holding her tightly. She placed her chin on Tara’s shoulder and whispered in her ear, “It’s okay, Baby…I’ll bet Debra made sure there’s a happy ending.”

“You’re right, Miss Willow,” little Debra assured, “there is a happy ending. But they have to go through some tough stuff first. Now, let me tell you the rest.”

Tara ran her hands along Willow’s forearms as she smiled down at the dark-haired girl. “Sorry, Debra, please go on.”

For her part, Willow was basking in the feel of Tara’s body against her own. If the truth were told, she wanted nothing more than to drag her girlfriend into an empty room and ravish her completely. Mmm…Want Christmas buffet…Want it now…Whoa! Cool it, Rosenberg! There’s plenty of time for that. Tara won’t run out of buffet…Tara…buffet…yummy…want…UGH! Enough. Focus on the kids. The story…Debra’s telling her story. Pay attention.

“…and since she was a Wicca, she knew there had to be some kind of spell that would help her be with her friend again. She remembered a time when another version of herself and her friend showed up in her world. So the girl immediately looked for the spell that would let her go to the other world to find her friend. When she got to the other world, she found her friend, but her friend was different. She seemed sad sometimes. But she recognized the girl from when she went into the other world. They just really didn’t know much about each other. I mean, the girl knew about her friend that died, and this version of her friend was very similar, but she was still different, you know?”

“Yeah,” Willow said, still peeking over Tara’s shoulder. “That makes sense. They’ve lived different lives…the friend and her double that is.”

“Exactly! Oh! Look at this part!” Debra pointed to a section of the story. The girl and her friend were sitting at a table. At another table were two other people. “Those two right there, at the table in the back, that’s me and my best friend, Rachel.” She looked up at Willow and Tara, a bright smile on her face. “I wrote myself and Rachel into the story! I’m in the story!”

“That’s neat, Debra,” Tara enthused. “So, what happens with the girl and her friend?”

“Oh, well, lots of things happen. After a while, they really do become best friends. So the girl is very happy that she’s found her friend again. But, it’s not just that she found her friend, it’s that she found another best friend who is very much like her original best friend. So, she decides that she will never leave and spend the rest of her life being with her friend.”

“Wow!” Willow looked at the girl in awe. “How old are you, Debra? Is it okay that I ask?”

“Oh sure. I’m nine and a half.”

“That is a really great story, Debra. Do you think if you ever write it down on paper that I can have a copy to read all the way through?” Willow felt Tara grasp her forearms and squeeze, indicating that she’d asked a good question.

“Yeah, I can do that. I was gonna write it all down anyway, since it’s my best story and all. I have a computer at home,” Debra said, again smiling with pride. “It’s a really good computer too. And my big sister got me a really neat printer. So I’ll print it for you and bring it to Miss Tara so she can give it to you.”

“Well,” Willow began, giving Tara a quick, sideways glance, “how about if I come back sometime and you can give it to me yourself?”

Tara’s breath caught in her throat and she felt her heart flutter. Come back. She wants to come back. Just when I thought I couldn’t love her any more…

“Sure!” Debra cried as she gave a little leap of happiness. “That would be great. I’ll try to have another story for you when you come back.”

“Thanks, Debra.” Willow reached down with one hand and patted the youngster on her head.

Tara, on the other hand, broke away from Willow’s hold on her to scoop Debra into her arms and give the child a big hug. “Yes, thank you, Debra.”

Debra gave Tara a quizzical look as she was released from the embrace, but shrugged it off as a silly grown-up thing. “Yeah, sure, no problem. I’m gonna finish now.”

Willow and Tara turned away and surveyed the room. The children who had completed their creations were huddled together in groups, playing various games or simply talking and teasing each other. Mary and Watty were individually walking around observing their surroundings: Mary was looking carefully at Terra’s cow and then glancing at the artist responsible. She seemed to be contemplating Terra’s ‘abstentions’. Watty, however, was busy counting the images on each cow and dutifully recording each number on her small chalkboard. As for Sally, well, she seemed to be on another mission to save Gabrielle from any number of dangers.

“Yo, B, check it out. All of the midgets are present and accounted for.” The voice caught Willow and Tara’s attention.

Standing at the open door to the rec room were two newcomers: one a petite blonde, with perfect hair, perfect clothes and perfect…well…everything; the other a dark haired woman in black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black denim jacket.

“Miss Faith!” a young voice squealed in delight.

Tara laughed outright as she and Willow watched little Mary bolt across the room and throw herself at the dark woman, nearly knocking them both to the ground. “That’s Faith and Buffy,” Tara explained. “They own ‘The Chosen, The Rogue, and The Stylish but Affordable Wardrobe’.”

“Wait…they own that new publishing company?” Willow asked incredulously. “I don’t believe it.”

Willow walked quickly toward the women still standing at the open door. “Buffy? Is that really you?”

The blonde in question turned at the sound of her name being called. A look of delighted surprise appeared on her face. “Oh my God. Willow!” she cried as she moved to pull the redhead into a huge hug. “What the heck are you doing here?”

“I live here…well, not here at the youth center here…but here in Sunnydale,” Willow answered, returning the embrace with gusto. “What are you doing here? I thought you lived in New York?” She pulled away from the blonde and held Buffy at arm’s length.

“I did, until I got sick of trudging through snow. I’ve always been a California girl.”

“Will?” Tara asked as she walked up to what she assumed to be a reunion. “You know Buffy?”

Willow reached out to her love and wrapped an arm around Tara’s waist. “Yeah, Buffy and I went to school together right up until sophomore in high school. Then her family moved to New York.” She turned to Buffy and glared. “And she has a real problem with writing letters and keeping in touch. I haven’t heard from her in years.”

Buffy had the decency to blush in embarrassment. “Ah, c’mon, Will. You know I was never a big fan of writing. Reminded me too much of homework.”

“Hey, Tare,” Faith said as she joined the group, a mini-therapist attached to her midsection. “B, you gonna introduce me to Red, or what?”

“Oh, sorry. Faith this is Willow. Willow…Faith.”

Willow held out her hand to the brunette in greeting. “Hi, Faith, nice to meet you.”

“Ditto, Red,” Faith drawled. She looked down at little Mary, who was currently burrowing in the older woman’s cleavage. “You know, I love this kid. Think I can keep her?” she said laughingly.

“Oh yes! You can keep me, Miss Faith!” Mary cried, tightening her grip and nestling further into Faith’s arms.

“You sure have a way with the women, Faith,” Tara chuckled.

Faith just smiled and moved little Mary so the tyke settled on her shoulders. “I do what I can, T.”

All four women looked down at the new arrival to the group. A dark-haired girl who looked to be about eight years old stood at Buffy’s side, cautiously tapping the blonde’s knee.

“Miss Buffy, will you come play Lincoln Logs with me?” the girl asked. “Chris let me use some of his dolls…we can play with them too.”

“Sure, Cyd,” Buffy said and then looked to the others in the group. “Hey, you guys wanna come play too? Cyd is really great with wood and…” Her voice trailed off as she realized the implications of her words. “And, you know, that didn’t sound as bad in my head.”

Faith just laughed and shook her head. “You go on, B. I know how you feel about wood. I’m gonna go check out the cows.” She turned her head to look up at the passenger who was still on her shoulders. “Wanna go see the rump roasts, kid?” The smile and whoop of joy from Mary gave Faith all the answer she needed. “Alright, let’s go!”

Willow and Tara joined Buffy on the floor next to Cyd’s Lincoln Log creation. It was an impressive structure, to say the least. Little Cyd had created a wooden fortress, complete with small trees borrowed from a Christmas village display.

“Okay, Cyd, what are we going to play?” Buffy asked.

Cyd handed Buffy the Wonder Woman action figure she’d borrowed from Chris and kept Jayna, the female half of the Wonder Twins, for herself. “Well, Jayna is trapped inside the fortress. She’s been there for years as a servant to the evil Giganta.” Cyd pointed to the evil action figure painstakingly posed to sit upright on a throne made of miniature pixie sticks. Suddenly, Cyd made a loud “whooshing” sound and knocked down a most of the structures surrounding the fortress. “But these bad guys came and destroyed everything. And Giganta took off, leaving Jayna to fend for herself.” With that, Cyd picked up the Giganta doll and unceremoniously tossed her aside, out of sight.

“Okay,” Buffy said as she assessed the situation, “so, you’re Jayna. What does Wonder Woman have to do?”

Cyd looked up at Buffy with wide, unbelieving eyes. “Wonder Woman comes down and saves Jayna, of course. She makes Jayna see that everything will be okay. And they become very good friends while they wait for the rest of the Super Friends to come get them and take them away from the fortress.” She rolled her eyes at the blonde, as if the answer to the question was obvious.

“Ah, got it.” Buffy stole a glance at Willow and Tara and winked. “Cyd and I are gonna play for a bit before the parents show up. You might want to make sure Faith isn’t corrupting Mary…or the other way around.”

Tara simply nodded and laughed as she took Willow’s hand. “You’re right. We need to save those two from each other. C’mon, Will.”

As Willow and Tara walked around the rec room, they noticed that all of the kids had finished decorating their cows and were currently engaging in other forms of amusement. Most of them were dog piled on Faith, who seemed to love every minute of it. The couple sat on a small bench against the wall, holding hands and surveying the room.

“This has been a fun day, Baby,” Willow said as she gazed into bright, blue eyes. “I’m so glad you made me come.”

“If I recall correctly, I did that a number of times this morning.” Tara gave Willow a sultry look.

“Tara!” Willow hissed in mock admonishment, all the while feeling a blush creep up her neck. “You know what I meant. I’m just really happy that I got to spend the day with you and meet these amazing kids.”

Tara wrapped her arms around Willow’s waist and rested her head on the redhead’s shoulder, sighing happily when Willow returned the embrace. “Me too, Sweetie.”

They sat that way, content in each other’s arms, watching the children play. They looked to the main door of the rec room when they heard Harley’s voice cut through the din.

“Okie dokie, Kiddies! Parents will be here in a few minutes. Time to clean up and get ready to go,” the director called out and then made her way to chat with Buffy.

The children let out a collective groan of disappointment, but dutifully began to pick up their supplies and return them to the art table.

“Hey, Sweetie,” Tara said as she straightened up, “do you want to stick around for a bit and watch the rehearsal?”

“Rehearsal?”

“Yeah. The group doing the display will be stopping by to do their final dress rehearsal for the Christmas display,” Tara explained. “It could be fun.”

“Sure,” the redhead agreed. “But, then we go home, right? Cuz I’m really hungry.”

Tara giggled and placed a gentle kiss on Willow’s lips, lingering for just a moment, letting their breaths mingle. “You know,” she purred, “gluttony is considered one of the deadly sins.”

“Then I’m doomed to an eternity of being a sinner. When it comes to Christmas buffet, ‘glutton’ is my middle name.” Willow grinned and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“I love you, Sweetie.”

“And I love you.”

Without warning, Faith and Buffy plopped down on either side of the Lovebirds, both looking thoroughly exhausted.

“Tara, I don’t know how you do this.” Buffy was almost whining. “I mean, we’ve been here for 30 minutes and I’m worn out. You’ve been here for hours and look like you’ve just had the best day ever.”

Tara looked at Willow and gave her hand a squeeze before addressing Buffy. “Well, it has been a great day, Buffy. Besides, you know how much I love these kids. I have so much fun with them.”

“I love these kids too, T,” Faith interjected. “I especially like that Mary kid. Gotta appreciate anyone who thinks I have a great rack.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at the brunette. “Then you should be head over heels in love with Terra.”

“Heh, yeah. She’s good for the ego too,” Faith chuckled. “But my point is that Buffy has a point. You’re, like, wicked cool with these kids, T. I like hangin’ with them, but they wipe me out. How do you do it?”

Willow saw this as her opportunity to add to the conversation. “Well, Faith, to quote a pint-sized warrior princess, my Tara has many skills.”

As if on cue, little Sally’s war cry could be heard halfway across the room.

“Speak of the devil,” Buffy mumbled. “Sally!”

Sally’s head snapped around and she set eyes on the group sitting on the bench. “Mommy!” she yelled and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her. Once she was near enough, she launched herself into the air and landed with a hearty thud on Buffy’s lap. She wrapped her arms around the blonde and squeezed. “Hi, Mommy! I saved Gabrielle three times today!”

“That’s great, Baby-girl. I knew you could do it.” Buffy said, returning the hug. “Now, are you just about ready to go? Daddy will be here soon.”

“Yep, I’m all ready!” Sally stated, excitedly bouncing in her mother’s lap. “Argo is all set up in the stable and Gabrielle is visiting her mommy and daddy and sister.”

“Well, good, cuz there’s Daddy now. Look.” Buffy pointed to the man standing at the doorway of the rec room. “Hurry up now. I’ll see you at home later. Be good.”

“Okay, Mommy!” Sally said, giving Buffy a parting hug. When she hopped down from Buffy’s lap, she turned to the other adults and addressed them as well. “Bye! Miss Willow, don’t forget to come back, okay?”

“Okay, Sally,” Willow replied and smiled at the little girl. “You take care of Gabrielle.”

“Oh, I will!” And with that, Sally turned and ran to her waiting father.

“Parker!” Buffy called out and waited for her husband to heft Sally into his arms. “No McDonald’s! I’ll be home in about two hours.”

“Yes, dear,” the man said. He hugged his daughter to him, whispering in her ear. The two shared a giggle and then turned to leave the room.

“So which happy meal do you think she’ll order tonight, B?” Faith teased.

_________________

Frivolous Views

“Chicken McNuggets, definitely,” the blonde sighed. “Oh well, it’s the holidays. I’ll let them splurge.”

Tara returned her gaze to the door and raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Um, Buffy…Faith…I think more of your…um…performers are here,” she said, nodding toward the people who had just entered. “I think you might want to head them off at the pass and take them to the locker room.”

Faith looked up at the newcomers, then at the kids, who were fortunately wrapped up in a rousing game of tag, and then back to the door. “Shit,” she exclaimed in a hushed tone, careful to not let the kids hear her curse. “Let’s go, B. Tare’s right.”

The two publishers quickly made their way to the group and expeditiously ushered them out the door and down the hall.

“Did you see what they were wearing?” Willow asked.

“Uh huh.”

“That’s for a Christmas display?”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh, we are definitely staying for this rehearsal.”

Tara simply chuckled and glanced at the door to see more adults entering the room. She waved at a few of them when they called out to her in greeting and described each for Willow’s benefit – and, in some cases, for her amusement. She pointed to each in turn.

“That’s Oz. He’s Cam’s father. The little guy standing next to him is Jonathan, Oz’s lover. Cam adores both of them.

“Over there is Larry. Remember Terra mentioning her ‘gay boyfriend’? Well, that’s him. He’s actually her brother. They’re really cute together.

“Um, let’s see. Oh, that’s Emmy’s father, Clem. He’ll come by now and then to play with the kids when he has a day off from work. It’s quite adorable to watch him and Emmy take care of the ‘babies’.

“The older man over there is Justin’s and Watty’s grandfather, Rupert. I’ll bet you any amount of money that he’s mumbling about Justin’s ‘infernal machines’ right now. Oh, Justin and Watty are cousins, I forgot to tell you. Justin’s father, Wesley, is out of town right now. Usually he would be here. But Rupert is filling in. Watty lives with her grandfather.

“Angel is Cyd’s dad – the tall guy over there. He’s a little broody at times, but really quite nice. Though he isn’t really happy about Cyd’s fixation on Lincoln Logs…well, wood in general. I’m not sure why.

“Janna’s father is Riley. He’s the man in the corner who looks like a cardboard cutout. Janna must get her brains from her mother, because Riley is kinda…thick.

“The colorful guy over there is Maru’s father, Lorne. Usually he comes in singing a song from some Broadway musical. Maru never misses a beat: she blurts out the title of the song, which show it’s from, the year the show debuted and, more often than not, the artist who originally sang it. It’s amazing.

“The peroxide blonde is Chris’s brother, William. Everyone calls him ‘Spike’. I don’t think there’s any real meaning behind the nickname other than he thinks it makes him sound cool. Chris adores his brother. Sometimes Cyd will rope Spike into a quick game of poker.”

As Tara finished her narration, Debra and Mary walked over and plopped down on the floor at Willow and Tara’s feet.

“What’s up, guys?” Willow asked. “No one here to pick you up yet?”

Little Debra was the first to speak up. “No, my sister is here. Miss Faith and Miss Buffy took her out of the room. I have to wait for them to finish their practice before I can go home.”

“What about you, Mary?”

“My brother is always late, isn’t that right, Miss Tara?”

“Yes, Mary, that’s right. But he never forgets to pick you up,” Tara said encouragingly.

“Oh, I know, it’s okay,” Mary assured. “I think he’s with his girlfriend today. She always makes him come late.”

Willow choked down her laughter. When she saw the expression on Tara’s face, she did her best to hide her smirk. You’re thinking the same thing, Baby. You can’t fool me. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be here soon, Mary.”

“Where’s the boy with the little dollies?” A dreamy voice interrupted their conversation. “I like the boy with the dollies. He reminds me of the days when I would play with Miss Edith.”

“Yes, Honey, I know,” a male voice responded. “It looks like he’s gone already. Maybe we can be on time tomorrow and you can see Chris.”

Mary turned her head away from the pair and looked at Willow and Tara. She sighed in exasperation. “Xander and Dru-u-u-u-u-u-u are here,” she said mockingly, drawing out the woman’s name. Mary had a look on her face that suggested she had just eaten a SourPatch Kid. “And people wonder why I want to be a psycho-ologist.” She stood up and rolled her eyes. “I have to go. Please tell Miss Faith that I said goodbye. See you all later, gators!” And with that, she turned and led Xander and Dru out of the room.

“Hey, Debra,” Harley called out as she approached, “would you go tell the others that they can come in whenever they’re ready?”

“Sure, Miss Harley,” Debra readily agreed and skipped out of the room.

“Would you two mind helping me move these cows?” Harley asked. “They need to be lined up. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tara stood up quickly and gave Harley a sharp salute.

“Oh, get over it, Maclay,” Harley chuckled and led the couple to the stage. “I don’t know how you put up with her, Willow. She can be such a smart ass.”

“Well, it’s better than being a dumbass,” Willow retorted. “So, all things being equal, let’s just say I like her ass and leave it at that.”

Tara and Harley stopped dead in their tracks and stared at the redhead. Tara wore a shocked expression: her eyes as wide as saucers, her mouth opening and closing as if wanting, but unable, to say something. Harley had a look of newfound respect for Willow.

“Well said, Rosenberg,” Harley said appreciatively. “Now I see why Tara can’t shut up about you…you’re a hum-dinger, you are. Good on ya!” She spared a look at Tara – laughing at the blonde’s continuing struggle to make any sound – gave Willow a conspiratorial wink, and then resumed her trek to the stage.

Willow grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and began to follow the director. “Come on, Baby. Time and cows wait for no man…er…woman.”

Tara allowed herself to be led away, her jaw still gaping in astonishment.

******************************[br]
Willow, Tara and Harley finished the bovine rearrangement in very little time. The three of them worked quickly and efficiently. Willow and Harley jabbered away about the kids as they transported cows from one area of the stage to another. Tara was still speechless.

Just as they put the last cow in place, little Debra returned to the room, leading a group of women in colorful costumes. She was holding tightly to the hand of an attractive woman with wavy, dark blonde hair. As they approached, Debra smiled widely. “Miss Willow, this is my sister. Her name is Glory.”

Willow held out her hand and greeted the woman. “Hi, Glory. Nice to meet you.”

“Well, look at you with the red hair!” Glory virtually oozed sugary sweetness. After shaking Willow’s hand, she turned her attention to Tara. “So, this is the little woman, huh? Way to go, Tare. I’ll bet she’s sassy!”

Willow turned a shade of red that almost matched the color of her hair. She wasn’t sure whether to be offended or embarrassed.

Tara just giggled. “Hi, Glory. Yes, Willow is my girlfriend.” The blonde looked at Willow with a thoughtful expression and then added, “and, yeah, she has her moments of sassiness.”

Glory gave a playful tug on Debra’s hand. “C’mon, Deb, let’s find you a spot so you can see everything.”

Willow turned to Tara as the two sisters walked away. “Debra is sticking around for the rehearsal?”

“Oh yeah, she’s their best critic,” Tara confirmed. “If it weren’t for Debra, those women wouldn’t know their left foot from their right.”

“I have no doubt,” Willow mumbled.

“Yo, T…Red,” Faith interrupted, coming to a stop at the couple’s side, “you two hangin’ out for a while?”

“Yeah,” Tara replied, “we thought we would watch the dress rehearsal, if that’s okay with all of you.”

“Sure. You can powwow with Deb and tell us if we look like fools or not,” the brunette joked.

“I’m sure you won’t look like fools,” Willow assured. “Your costumes are certainly eye-catching, anyway.”

“Heh, yeah,” Faith chuckled, “they don’t leave much to the imagination, do they?”

“I think the costumes are just fine,” a new voice broke into the conversation. “Though if they didn’t take so long to put on, I wouldn’t have missed seeing Xander.”

Faith merely rolled her eyes. “T…Red…this is Anya.”

“Hi, Anya,” Willow and Tara said in unison.

“Hello,” Anya replied, spying the couple’s joined hands. “Are you orgasm friends?”

Willow’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

Tara’s tongue got caught in her throat.

Faith was unfazed. “Jesus, Anya, what did we tell you about asking questions like that?”

“What did I say?” Anya asked, a sincere expression on her face. “Was that an inappropriate question? I was simply wondering if they were dating each other.”

“Okay, then you ask ‘are you dating’ or ‘are you a couple,’” Faith tried to explain. She spoke very slowly. “You do not use the word ‘orgasm’ in your question.”

Anya heaved a sigh and threw up her hands in exasperation before turning to walk away. “I just don’t get it,” she muttered, her voice gradually fading away as she moved back toward the stage, “I just asked a simple ‘yes or no’ question. It’s not like I asked how often they had orgasms…or how they did it…”

“Well, she’s certainly a piece of work,” Tara claimed once she regained the use of her voice.

“Yeah,” Faith scoffed, “that she is. I mean, I may not be Miss Manners, but at least I have some tact.”

The trio made their way to a makeshift seating area close to the stage. As they neared the area, Faith asked, “So?”

“Um, so what?” Tara furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“Are you orgasm friends?”

Willow’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

Tara’s tongue got caught in her throat.

Faith was highly amused.

“Gotcha!” Faith laughed.

Tara and Willow joined in the laughter.

“You’re just evil, Faith,” the redhead asserted, “I like you.”

“Ditto, Red. Now, let me point everyone out to you.” Faith directed their attention toward the group on the stage. “You’ve already met Anya…and what a memorable experience that was…and I think I saw you talking to Glory. She’s like Anya in many ways…blunt, outspoken…she just has a much smoother approach. The blonde over there on the right…the one who looks like the butt of every blonde joke in existence…that’s Harmony. In fact, I think most blonde jokes are based on her…not the sharpest tool in the shed,” Faith chuckled at her own joke. “Amy is the chick looking at Terra’s cow…she may look disgusted, but I think she’s secretly drooling. When that girl comes out of the closet, she’s going to bust the door off the hinges. Oh, and the beauty queen wannabe is Cordelia. She and Anya don’t get along well at all…I guess they both used to date Mary’s brother, Xander. Cordy doesn’t like to admit that fact, but when she does, she talks about it as if she was just dating him out of pity. Anya, on the other hand, ‘misses all the orgasms’…like that’s a big surprise, right? And last, but certainly not least, is my girlfriend, Kendra. Buffy and I round out the group.”

Tara looked carefully at the group. “There are eight of you, so, ‘eight maids a-milkin’ I presume?”

“You got it, T! We thought it’d be fun to-” Faith broke off when her attention was drawn to the squabbling at the edge of the stage. Anya and Cordelia were squaring off and it looked like it was about to turn ugly. “Ah, shit. I’ll talk to you guys later, I gotta break this up,” she said apologetically as she rushed over to prevent ‘Milkmaid Smackdown ’05’.

Willow and Tara sat down on a couple of chairs that were set up to face the stage and watched the unfolding drama. Cordelia stood, glaring at Anya, her arms crossed haughtily across her chest. Anya was standing her ground, her hands balled into fists and propped firmly on her hips. She was saying something to Cordelia, but Willow and Tara couldn’t hear her over the laughter of the rest of the group. Whatever it was, it made Cordelia turn an interesting shade of purple.

Willow scooted her chair closer to Tara and leaned over to whisper in the blonde’s ear. “Hey, Baby, do you think we could get one of those costumes when they’re finished with them?” she asked, her voice sultry. “I’d love to play milkmaid with you sometime.”

Tara gasped softly at the tone of Willow’s voice. Her entire body hummed. “I’ll see what I can do,” she murmured in reply.

Willow flashed a toothy grin at her girlfriend and returned her attention to the stage area. The costumes in question were at once expected and shocking. It was clear that they were milkmaid dresses, but with a twist. Red satin dominated the outfits: the full skirts and puffy sleeves were made out of the smooth material. The bodices were basically black satin corsets, piped with red stays. The collars, arms and hems of the skirts were all lined with fluffy white fur. The necklines plunged quite low, exposing a great deal of cleavage. There was netting underneath the skirts, causing them to extend fully from the bottom of the corsets. The skirts were just long enough to be considered decent…barely. Each milkmaid also wore fishnet stockings and black high heeled, ankle strap pumps. Buffy used to call those ‘fuck me pumps’ if I remember correctly, Willow thought. I wonder if those were her idea. The ensembles were topped off, literally, by matching Santa hats. Oh, yeah, just wouldn’t work without the Santa hat.

The sensation of Tara’s breath on her ear brought Willow out of her thoughts. Tara’s words sent her thoughts reeling.

“I’ll see if I can get two,” the blonde purred. She nibbled on Willow’s ear in between words. “Just thinking how sexy you would look makes my knees weak.”

Willow closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was just about to speak when Harley’s voice sounded.

“Okay, is everyone ready?” the director asked, her finger poised over the play button on a portable CD player.

The eight maids a-milkin’ were each seated on a stool by a decorated cow, their backs to the audience. The cows were set at a slight angle, so they seemed to be looking at the audience out of the corners of their eyes. “Do it, boss lady,” Faith called out.

Harley pressed the play button and almost immediately the sound of Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby” filled the room.

At least they used the good version, Tara thought. Madonna’s rendition gives me the creeps.

Willow and Tara watched as the milkmaids began moving to the music. With their backs still toward the audience, the maids swayed their hips side to side in time to the music, snapping them on each upward swing. The movements made the skirts on their costumes bounce with each snap. One by one, the maids turned to face the audience. Once they were all facing the same direction, they leaned back against their respective cows and slid downward until their knees were completely bent. They held their knees close together, keeping prying eyes from seeing anything under their skirts…at least for a moment. Suddenly the maids placed a hand on each knee and quickly spread them apart – wide apart – and then snapped them back together. They then stood and slinked to the edge of the stage where they formed a line.

Oh, they aren’t going to turn into the Rockettes, are they? I don’t think I could handle a kick line. Willow inwardly groaned. A few moments later, she wished they had done a kick line.

The maids turned to the left and placed their hands on the hips of the woman in front of them, effectively forming a chain.

Oh, God! Not a conga line!

It wasn’t a conga line. The maids thrust their hips forward and then back again, never breaking the hold on the maid in front of them. They did this three times in succession, each movement punctuated by the beat of the music. On the final thrust back, each maid smacked the ass of the woman in front of her, effectively throwing each set of hips forward again and breaking the chain.

Willow leaned closer to Tara and whispered out of the side of her mouth, “Um, Baby, is this supposed to be a family thing? I mean, will kids be seeing this?”

“I’m not sure, actually,” Tara whispered back. “The display as a whole doesn’t open to spectators until 10pm, so I’m thinking the number of kids attending should be minimal.”

“Good,” Willow said as she sneaked a glance at little Debra. The girl was impassive. “Well, it doesn’t seem to bother Debra.”

Tara looked over at the little girl and then back to Willow. “True, but very little bothers Debra. She lives with Glory, after all.”

The couple spent the remainder of the rehearsal in silence. The milkmaids ran through their routine four times, with Debra providing tips and commentary between each run through. Sure enough, the choreography was smoothed out and the entire dance seemed to flow with each successive rehearsal. Debra truly did help them determine their left feet from their right. Buffy, Faith and Harley joined Willow and Tara as the rest of the group left the room, either to change or to go home.

“So, what did you think?” Buffy inquired.

Willow and Tara looked to each other, as if hoping the other woman would have something to say. Finally, Tara spoke up.

“Well, it’s certainly…eye-catching.”

Buffy clapped her hands excitedly and bounced in place, her skirt flouncing around her in time to the movement. “Oh, good!”

Faith merely chuckled and rolled her eyes at the perky blonde. “You’re too easily amused, B.” She then turned to Willow and Tara. “You two gonna make it to the show Friday night? I heard the other eleven days are pretty good too.”

“We’ll, try,” Willow said, looking to Tara for confirmation.

“Yes, we’ll see if we can stop by after Willow’s office party,” Tara added rather diplomatically.

“Sweet!” the sultry brunette exclaimed. “Well, I’ve gotta jet…Kendra is probably waiting for me in the parking lot.”

“Yeah, I have to go too,” Buffy added. “Sally is probably making Parker play Joxer again. She beats the crap out of him every time.” She shook her head and chuckled. “Will, come by our office sometime and we’ll do lunch. It would be great to catch up with you.”

“You got it, Buff.”

After a round of hugs and goodbyes, Buffy and Faith left the building.

Harley fell to the floor in a heap and looked up at Willow and Tara. “God, what a day. Thanks again, guys. You were a huge help today.”

“No problem, Harley,” Willow replied with a smile. “If it’s okay, I’d like to come back with Tara sometimes and hang out with the kids. They’re a lot of fun.”

“The more the merrier, I always say,” the exhausted director said. “You’re welcome anytime. Now get out of here so I can lock up.”

The girlfriends simply laughed and said goodbye, intertwining their fingers as they went to collect their things and head home.

“C’mon, Baby. I can’t wait to get you home.” Willow wiggled her eyebrows at Tara. “I think it’s just about time for dinner.”

“Then let’s go,” Tara hummed. “I don’t want to be accused of denying your appetite.”

They nearly ran to the car.

******************************[br]
“Mmpphh…Baby…mmm…got to…get…inside,” Tara gasped between kisses.

Willow had the blonde pinned to the door of their house, her body pressed tightly against Tara’s. She was trying to get the key in the door with one hand while cupping Tara’s breast with the other, hungrily kissing Tara all the while. “Mmm…trying…want you…now.”

Tara put her hands on Willow’s shoulders and gently pushed the redhead away. Both women were breathing heavily, their eyes dilated in arousal. “Sweetie, I want you too. But we have to get in the house,” the blonde reasoned.

Taking deep breaths to calm herself, Willow took a step back and smiled sheepishly at her lover. “Okay, you’re right,” she said as she handed the keys to Tara. “I leave it in your capable hands.” Very capable hands…hands I want all over me.

Tara easily unlocked and opened the door, leading Willow inside. She quickly found herself pinned once again to the front door…this time without providing a display for the neighbors.

Willow’s hands were everywhere, grasping onto any and every part of Tara’s body. She snuck her hands under the blonde’s shirt, eager to feel bare skin. Once again, however, she was gently being pushed away. She whimpered at the loss of contact.

“Will, hold on a second.” Tara held Willow’s hands firmly in her own, lifting them to place feather light kisses on each of the redhead’s knuckles. “Right now I smell like paint and glue and the rec room floor. I want to take a shower.” She gave Willow a sexy grin. “I want to make sure your buffet tastes good.”

Willow’s knees nearly gave out on her at the look in Tara’s eyes. “A shower! Yeah, a shower is good. I could use one too. I’ll take one with you.” She pulled Tara toward the stairs, the thought of water dripping over her lover’s curves nearly driving her over the edge. However, she met with resistance. She turned to give Tara a questioning gaze.

“Me first, then you,” Tara said, her voice firm and gentle at the same time. “I’ve kept you away from your work all day, Sweetie. If I didn’t give you some time to work on that program, I would feel guilty.”

“Tara-a-a-a-a,” Willow whined, “don’t want work now. Just want buffet.”

Cave-Willow had returned.

Tara bent down to retrieve the laptop case that had fallen from Willow’s shoulder. Glad this thing is padded. She held it out to the pouting redhead. “Go on, Will. Just for a little while. Work on it for an hour and then you can have as much buffet as you want. Please? I’ll feel bad if you don’t.”

Willow took the bag and sighed. “Okay, Baby. I’ll work on it for an hour. But I don’t think I’m going to get much done knowing my buffet is waiting for me.”

Tara smiled and gave her love a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Sweetie. I’ll be down in a bit and then you can have the shower.” She then turned and headed up the stairs.

“Don’t take too long!” Willow called after her lover. She couldn’t hold back a smile as she watched the sway of Tara’s hips as the blonde walked up the stairs.

Once Tara was out of sight, Willow made her way into the living room and set up her laptop on the coffee table. She sat on the couch and positioned herself in much the same way as she had earlier that morning. She lost herself in thoughts of the morning’s activities as her computer started up. Mmm…Tara-hands…Tara-lips…want. Willow pulled herself out of her reverie and tried to concentrate on the computer in front of her. Okay, here we go. Just gotta find the code. One line. Just one line. You can do this, Rosenberg. Christmas buffet awaits.

She spent a few minutes scrolling through line after line of code, searching for the one bug that was making this project a pain in the ass. Just as she was getting frustrated enough to contemplate throwing her laptop through the large living room window, a conversation from earlier in the day popped into her head.

[blockquote] “I was having an awful time trying to fix it. But now it will be easy.”

“Sometimes, it just takes a fresh set of eyes to find the problem,” Tara offered, happy she had something useful to add.

“Well, I couldn’t use my regular way to fix things.”

Willow was intrigued. “What’s your regular way?”

“Oh, I turn it upside down….”[/blockquote]

Willow thought for a moment. I’m not really thinking about doing this, am I? She looked at the computer screen again, the lines of code just sitting there, mocking her. “Oh, what the hell,” she mumbled. “It couldn’t hurt.”

She lifted her laptop from its spot on the coffee table and carefully rotated the machine so that the image on the screen was upside down. I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought as her eyes grazed over the code on the screen. She closed her eyes for a moment, chuckling to herself. “You’re cracked, Rosenberg,” she said to the empty room. Then she opened her eyes again. She was about to turn the laptop around again, restoring it to its original, upright position when something caught her attention.

There, on the screen, staring at her was the bug in the code.

“I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed. “I don’t friggin’ believe it!”

She quickly turned the computer over and placed it back on the coffee table. A few fast taps on the keyboard later, her program was completely debugged. She quickly saved the program and jumped to her feet. Willow proceeded to do an imitation of the dance of joy she’d seen little Mary do earlier in the day.

“Thank you, Justin!” she yelled, flinging her arms wide and throwing back her head.

The sound of running water from the upstairs bathroom stilled Willow’s movements. She held her breath for a moment and then released it in a delighted sigh.

“Christmas buffet,” she purred.

Willow wasted no time running up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. She tore her clothes from her body as she ran. Hopping on one foot as she struggled to remove her jeans, Willow finally made it to the bathroom door.

Having finally divested herself of the cumbersome denim, Willow stood outside the door…naked and out of breath from her frantic trip up the stairs. She took a moment to collect herself. But just a moment.

She wrapped her hand around the doorknob and turned it gently, careful not to make any noise as she opened the door.

Buffet.

She tiptoed into the room and closed the door softly behind her. It was warm; steam was drifting over the shower curtain rod and clinging to the mirror. [br]
Willow could see Tara’s shadowy silhouette through the shower curtain. She swallowed heavily as her eyes blazed a trail over her lover’s curves.[br]
Buffet…now. [br]
She stepped forward and gingerly drew back the curtain, taking in the sight before her. Tara was leaning back under the falling water, the lather from her shampoo sliding down her body. [br]
Willow followed the lather with her eyes as it made its way down Tara’s neck and over her collarbone. It continued to glide down the blonde’s full breast, meeting only slight resistance as it passed over Tara’s erect nipple. Willow’s mouth went dry as she watched the lather flow over the smooth skin of Tara’s stomach. It settled in the triangular patch of dark blonde hair at the apex of Tara’s thighs. [br]
“Like what you see?” [br]
Tara’s voice made Willow’s heart skip a beat. She slowly dragged her eyes back up Tara’s body to meet the blonde’s gaze. [br]
“Oh yeah,” Willow breathed, “very much.” [br]
She took a step forward and wrapped her arms around Tara’s waist, holding her lover tightly against her own body. She groaned at the contact. [br]
Tara pulled Willow under the water and allowed it to caress both of their bodies. When they stepped away from the soothing water, Tara touched her lips to Willow’s, sharing her lover’s breath. [br]
“It thought you were supposed to be working,” she hummed into Willow’s mouth. [br]
“Finished…bug gone…here now,” Willow gasped as Tara placed fleeting kisses along her neck. [br]
Tara pulled away for a moment, a quizzical look on her face. “Gone?” she inquired. “But that program has been giving you trouble for weeks. Are you telling the truth? Is it really fixed?” [br]
Willow giggled and tightened her grip on the blonde. “I’m telling the truth…promise,” she assured Tara. “I got some good advice today and decided to give it a try…and it worked.” Willow smiled at Tara, her eyes sparkling. [br]
“Well, how did you figure it out?” [br]
“Easy…I turned it upside down.” [br]
Tara let out a full laugh. “Oh that’s great, Will! Wait until we tell Justin. He’ll be so excited.” [br]
“Yep, we’ll definitely tell him…together.” [br]
“You mean?” [br]
“I mean. Is that okay?” [br]
“Oh yes.” [br]
Tara grasped Willow behind the neck and pulled her into a passionate kiss. [br]
“Thank you, Sweetie,” she whispered when they came up for air. [br]
“I had fun today, Tare. I got to spend the day with the woman I love and revisit my youth with a group of great kids.” Willow placed a quick kiss on the tip of Tara’s nose. “Besides, it’s good practice for when we have kids of our own.” [br]
Tara cupped Willow’s cheek in her hand and looked at her love through tear-filled eyes. [br]
“I love you, Willow Rosenberg.” [br]
“I love you, Tara Maclay.” [br]
Willow ran her hands along Tara’s spine and kissed the blonde gently. When she leaned back, a seductive smile graced her features. [br]
“Now, can I have my Christmas buffet?” [br]
Tara released her hold on Willow to raise her hands and grasp the showerhead, effectively thrusting her body toward her lover. She licked her lips and grinned. [br]
“All you can eat, Sweetie.” [br]
The End

[center]Log in tomorrow to read...

by AntigoneUnbound[/center]

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Frivolous Views

w00t! dibs!

ETA: Carleen, what a hoot this story was! Delightful! I really like the phrase "bovine rearrangement."

Tara and Willow's physical attraction for each other is palpable! And for story structure, I really like how you started off with Willow having a conflict about the code, and then ending up with her fixing it. Nice bookending there. Also, Willow's journey from being freaked out by the kids and protecting her laptop to being comfortable with the kids and then so into Tara that she drops her laptop on the floor is a lovely example of personal growth.

I really like the character "Sally" you have created. I certainly hope that she finds her Gabrielle! I had to LOL when I saw that Sally's mother was Buffy and her dad was PARKER! HA! And how did you know that I LOVE McDonald's, huh? I mean, Sally the character? Although you know it's fiction, because I don't eat the McNuggets - I usually go for the burgers, but have been known to eat the Chicken Selects as well. With buffalo sauce - love the hot stuff.

Anyway Carleen, this is a lovely lovely story and it was a thrill to read.

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Stocking Stuffers: Little Gifts from RKT