From the Journal...Where the Wild Things Are Part F
The two of us quickly blew out the candles that were still lit while Mr. Giles put the chairs and the miraculously unbroken table aside. We went over to the Fraternity, apprehensive and unsure what we would find when we got there. I kept on seeing Xander being shot out of the front door and landing on the sidewalk. I certainly hoped none of them was injured or anything, I’d hate to think that my inability to hold the spirits would be the cause for anyone getting injured.
As we arrived at the front the other couple were just coming out, though Anya held a bloody strip of cloth around her hand. Xander said that they’d made it to Buffy and Riley and the two were probably getting dressed, finally. Whatever we’d done had worked and they had been able to get the room and once they’d opened the door the weird effects had ended. Everyone was thankful for that and I definitely felt very relieved, maybe I’d been able to help out after all.
However, my limbs felt like the proverbial lead and I had to stifle several yawns. I needed to get into bed and rest, and even Mr. Giles and Willow were starting to act tired, too. Xander said he was going to take his girlfriend to the hospital to get her hand looked at and everyone said they’d go along, but I just couldn’t keep my eyes open and I wished the ex-demon well and said I needed to go back to my dorm and crash for, like, a week. Willow asked if I was OK, or needed any help, bless her and though she might have stayed with me even after all that I’d done to her, I knew she needed to be with her friends and get some rest of her own. Besides, I was in no condition to try and straighten anything out between us so I just said I’d be fine after I slept, and that I’d call her tomorrow?
She thought that was a good idea and yawned once more. Since my dorm was on the way they walked me back. I said my goodbyes, but with everyone there didn’t get a chance to kiss her goodnight or even brush hands. I had no chance to let her know how much she means to me or how sorry I was, and so I walked up to my floor alone, dreary in body and soul and pretty much just went to bed.
My dreams were strange and troubled last night, too. I remember various images, flashes of somebody calling me, or for me, and being unable to go to them. It was like they were shouting far and wide and after a while there was an answering cry that joined the first, but it wasn’t me. I think I got a flash of a tall cliff and a woman in robes standing by a cauldron, but can’t remember for sure. A sudden storm definitely arose and lightning lit the area and cracked into nearby trees repeatedly.
The next part I remember was pale, grasping hands reaching for me, pulling me in various directions while she was lying beside me, a blanket covering her naked form and try though I might I couldn’t get back to her, the hands were clammy and cold, they lifted me and drew me away from her and my cries fell on deaf ears. I rose up and up and though a small black and white kitten batted at me, leapt to play with my trailing feet, I hurtled up into the darkness, the last thing I could clearly see was her shining red hair spread out on the pillow.
The scene sort of shifted or I slept more deeply and the next thing I knew my Father was looking for me bearing a set of manacles of silver with strange red writing that glowed and pulsed on them. He arrived on campus but I’d been able to see the camper coming and hid in the library so he didn’t see me. I knew somehow that he’d gone to my room and classes, and that the only spot I could hide was with her, but I couldn’t find Stevenson, couldn’t find her room and she was nowhere to be seen. I ran and he continued his hunt while I searched, it wouldn’t be long before the caress of the metal stripped my power, bound me forever to him, and yet nowhere could I find my Willow, even her name was gone from the directory and phone book. I fled into the cafeteria and hid in the giant fridge behind the counter, but it did no good. I woke just as he was coming around the stoves and counters, closing on my hiding spot.
I had slept sort of late and my blankets and sheets were tossed almost off the bed. I could smell the sweet, post-storm air come rolling in through my window. Obviously nature was as unsettled as I had been. I wished that she was with me, there to calm and comfort me, but after my behavior the previous night, I would be lucky if she stayed with me ever again. That thought thoroughly depressed me and I trudged to the bathroom to take care of business, hoping that a nice hot shower would refresh me and give me some idea of what to do. Luckily Mandy and the others weren’t around.
The water was invigorating and I luxuriated under the stream far longer than I should have. No new ideas presented themselves and all I could think of was how nice it would be if she was there with me, her soft, small body pressed up against mine, her hands sliding along my skin as we shared the soap, and slow, languid full bodied kisses. By the time I was done I had switched the water to near freezing and was certainly awake and alert, if not any happier!
Back in my room I decided to call her before dressing, in case she had something specific in mind, and really I just wanted to hear her voice again. Though the phone rang and rang there was no answer. For a moment I got a sinking, panickey sensation that that was it, she was done with me, but then figured she was probably just out with Buffy and Riley getting brunch, going over the previous night. Still, she hadn’t called to see if I wanted to come along.
Goddess, how am I ever going to let her know I didn’t mean to hurt her? That it wasn’t really me, entirely, who said and did those things? The thought of losing her makes my stomach flip worse than the bug I caught. Maybe these things happen and I’m overreacting? But it doesn’t seem right to just let it go, I know she appears strong but Oz hurt her very deeply, made her doubt her own attractiveness, that she was wanted or that anyone was able to love her. She has fears and doubts of her own and Goddess, this time I’m the one who’s touched on them. Maybe I really am evil. I hurt the one I love more than anything; isn’t that the worst evil of all?
Sunday Afternoon: Oh Mother, I feel like crying, like singing, like my heart will burst from sheer joy and yet almost can’t believe that things can work out so well sometimes. And here I see that I wrote that the day before last was the best in my life, and yet really, this one was just as good, if not better. Is that what being in love with my Willow means? Is that what I have to look forward to? Each day better and better than the previous one? Well, with a few immensely dismal and scary days thrown in for balance, that is. Still, what a change from the bleakness, the despair of no hope, no prospects of anything at all, that life at home used to fill me with. Cruelty, mean spiritedness, disdain, these are not the only emotions that exist or define my world now, thank the Goddess. And thank her, too, for being there and being, well, just her.
        Yesterday had started off so poorly, strange dreams, no Willow-voice, unsure of where we stood other than that I’d hurt her. I’ve never felt so low and wretched. It was all my fault; I was to blame. Goddess, I hope I never feel like that again!
        I guess that my misery made me both brave and cowardly at the same time. I wanted to let her know how I really felt, but I was afraid to see her, to see rejection in her eyes, or to have those luscious and delicate lips turn down towards me. So I took out the poem I’d been writing for her and carefully copied it over in my best handwriting, on a crisp new sheet of paper with my favorite pen. I wrote a little note along with it, telling her I was sorry for how I’d acted the night before, that I had been influenced by the poltergeist spirits, but that it was no excuse and I hoped she could forgive me.
        I know, I was probably overreacting, being all Miss Melodrama and it probably wasn’t necessary, but it was something I had to do nonetheless. She’s too important for me not to.
        Of course it took me till later that afternoon before I nerved myself up to go over and slide the envelope under her door. I half hoped she’d be there and I could take the whole thing back, but no, they were both still out. So I slunk back to my room like a whipped dog and waited. I spent some time meditating to clear my mind, in case she might actually want to do some spells or something later, and then translated some of the book she’d gotten me.
        I still get a warm, pleasant feeling knowing that she got it just for me. It seems to be a mixture of observations on the qualities of various herbs, plants and minerals along with some spells, astrological correspondences and a little bit of history or diary. It belonged to someone named Golina Geverti or something like that. She wasn’t Spanish but Italian, born someplace in the Piedmont area. Ah, it’s hard going and I’m not sure my medieval French is all that accurate, though I do have a good dictionary from the library. At least it kept my attention from too many thoughts of her.
        Well, I did picture her in a cute little peasant dress, living in a small thatch house with an extensive garden in the back and a little out house, a small barn full of animals, cows and such. A little chicken coop was attached in the rear while thick hedges and a clump of trees along with a nearby stream sort of completed the scene. It was an unusually clear daydream, but one that wasn’t terribly distracting for a change. Maybe because it had no sex in it!
        Before I knew it the shadows were getting longer and there came a sudden knock on the door that could only be hers. I rose, along with the trepidation in me as I had a brief flash of her tossing the envelope in my face, and I went to the door both excited and fearful.
        She stood there wearing a pale yellow shirt with a black dotted circle around a ruffled white fish over her right breast, she has some very unusual shirts, and blue jeans. I don’t think she ever looked lovelier, though to be fair I tend to think that each new time I see her. I also realized that for some reason she was near tears and sort of out of breath, yet before I could make any comment she flung herself in and embraced me, the paper clutched in her hands sort of scratching at my back. I soon forgot about that though, as her lips and tongue were all over mine and I sighed into her mouth as I returned her kiss.
        We broke after a deliciously long time and she closed the door behind her. I smiled shyly and asked what that was for? She said nothing and just moved me towards the bed and kissed me again. When our lips parted and I sort of flumped back on my rear, she sat down next to me. She had that look on her face and sort of fluttered the envelope and papers I’d left for her.
        She said it was the most amazingly beautiful thing she’d ever gotten from anyone and she knew I hadn’t meant what I’d said or to be abrupt and all but we’d been having such a good time and she’d really liked how the green shirt had contrasted with my hair and I looked so cute with the two little bobsy tails and my round face and were having such a nice discussion and everything that she’d been startled and shocked by the sudden change and though she figured I wouldn’t hurt her deliberately it still stung and made her feel all disgusting and ugly like no one would ever love her again cuz she was such a spaz and nerd and should have known I didn’t feel that way but with all the talk of Oz and all that, well, she’d just sort of lost it and…I had to kiss her to stop her delirious babble before she burst something. How she can go on and on like that I’ll never know, cute as it may be.
        When this kiss ended I still felt a little sheepish and softly said that I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing, that I should’ve just said it directly to her, but that I’d been scared I’d hurt her too badly, that she might not want to listen.
        She said she’d always listen to me, and that the poem was so cool and that she couldn’t believe I’d made it up myself, and then from memory she said the entire thing, though it isn’t that long.
How often must I see you?
How often must I gaze in your sweet eyes?
How tenderly must I touch you?
Before you know that I care?
Can you see my body shiver?
Can you hear my voice quaver from your name?
Can you tell by my constant calls?
That I desperately need you?
How many times can I kiss you?
How many times can I say ‘you’re beautiful?’
How tightly can I hold you?
Before you know that I love you?
Nothing will ever change
That love is my salvation,
And you are my only love.
        When she finished she reiterated how beautiful she thought it was and how it touched her heart. I responded that the only beauty in those words were the breath she put in them. OK, so I can be as maudlin as the best of them, but when she gave voice to the poem it seemed so much better than it sounded in my mind, like when she says my name; so different from how Father or Donny say it.
        She gave me her stern look and said she thought that I wouldn’t get down on myself like that anymore? I had that lump in my throat again and it was me who was close to tears then. She truly is the most unique and special woman ever if she can find that much beauty in me or anything I do. But her words gave me such heart, such courage that though the world was starting to spin and blur, though I had to swallow before I could speak and everything almost seemed to stand still, I went ahead and said in a soft, almost cracking voice, what I’ve wanted to since I first laid eyes on her.
        ‘I love you, Willow.’
        I repeated it more firmly, passionately and told her I’d loved her since I first saw her across from me at the Wiccan meeting last semester, and that the more I learned about her, the deeper and more completely I fell in love with every aspect of her. She was the most beautiful, amazing, special woman ever and I reiterated that I was completely, desperately, hopefully in love with her.
        It took all of my will, but I looked directly at her, into those wonderful emerald eyes as I said it, a part of me still fearful that it really was hopelessly after all.
        But she didn’t flinch, she didn’t look scared or annoyed and though her lips said ‘Oh, Tara,’ as she moved to kiss me once again, her eyes said, ‘I love you, too.’
        We kissed long and deeply and I don’t think I was seeing things. She may not be quite able to say the words back yet, but I feel, believe, know, it’s true anyway.
        When we were through for the moment she opened her mouth to say something more, but I silenced her with my finger. I told her that it was OK, I knew she wasn’t entirely sure what she felt, couldn’t say the same, but that I could wait till she was.
        Oh Goddess, she smiled at me and gave me that look again, touched the side of my cheek with her fingers, traced the line of my jaw and just stared at me so intently, so magically it felt like we were going to fly off in each other’s arms. I felt like I could have battered down any barrier right then, thrown cars about. Nothing could keep me from her embrace, from the incandescent feel of her hand, the searing moisture and softness of her lips. I let myself go and jus t kissed and kissed her. I think our tears merged on our cheeks along with our tongues and lips. We made out for ages, felt all over each other on my bed, and ended up lying side by side, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths still mingling, both hearts racing. While all of us might have the capacity to find the one, truly right person, how many were blessed with finding them? I knew I was and I still thank the Goddess for it.
        I think we lay there for a while just stroking each other’s hair, sort of caressing the other softly and slowly. I could feel the wetness and desire deep within me, but it was sort of distant and not as pressing as at other times. She was here, in my arms, I was content. I didn’t think it could get any better at that moment but I was wrong.
        She was so happy, and excited as well, in a heady, giggley sort of way and said we should celebrate, go out some place nice, have an outrageously expensive dinner, go dancing, that sort of thing. She wanted the world to see us together.
        I smiled and stroked her fine hair, nodding that I agreed. After a moment I asked about Buffy and the others? Would it be all right if she ignored them, or if they saw us on an obviously fancy date? She grinned back and said she didn’t care who saw us, parents, friends, whoever. And she’d spent enough time with the others already earlier today. Buffy and Riley were going to patrol tonight, while Xander would be caring for Anya, who was doing better and fortunately not in much pain. She must’ve been feeling pretty good to be kindly disposed to the ex-demon.
        I thought of my own jeans and shirt and said that we’d probably need to change, wear something a bit better, but I really didn’t relish the thought of letting her out of my sight, not then. She expressed similar sentiments so I suggested I change first, then we go back to her place and so she could as well. Hopefully Buffy wouldn’t be back or I’d have to wait downstairs, and that would ruin some of the fun.
        She must have been thinking along similar lines as she chuckled and said that meant I had to go first, but really, that was all right. I’d already undressed before her once before and this time I wouldn’t be taking off everything either.
        I picked out a nice blue dress and matching top that was a shade lighter, but still not ‘Sunday best.’ It was more unnerving than I’d thought, undressing before her, knowing that she was watching, feeling that parts of me were too big, stuck out too far. I got so self-conscious that I almost tripped over my skirt and rather than laughing at me, she just held out an arm and steadied me with her hand. She’s so sweet.
        We went back to her place and then it was my turn to wait and watch. Did I say she was sweet? I meant a vixenous hellfiend. I swear she took her time just to tease me! I watched as she deliberately slid her pants down very slowly, and with exaggerated care stepped out of each leg. She unfastened her shirt and let it slide to the floor as well, her white bra revealing her perfect little mounds less than I would have wished, though I found myself licking my lips at the site.
        Only then did she go over to her closet and pick out an outfit to wear, bending over slowly to rummage for an appropriate pair of shoes that were probably right in front anyway. Even her rear end looked decidedly lickable. If she kept this up much longer I was going to completely forget about going slow and jump her right there!
        Which is of course when we heard two voices, a deep male and female, coming down the hallway. She, ‘eeeped!’ and almost jumped in the closest. My face felt so warm it probably could have fried an egg as I turned around and desperately looked for some excuse to be sitting there while she was half naked in the closet. I quickly grabbed one of her textbooks as the voices got closer, smoothed my hair back, this time it wasn’t put up, and hoped I didn’t look too guilty.
        Fortunately the voices continued on by and receded into the distance, but by the time I turned around she was just emerging, fully dressed. I gave her a half smile and quirked eyebrow and she gave a little smile and a mock glare daring me to say anything about ‘coming out of the closest.’ I just completed the smile and commented that my turn seemed to have been cut short and that I never got any fun, to which she replied if I was good maybe I’d catch the encore. I drew her into a kiss and said I wouldn’t miss it for the world, but that we’d better go before Buffy really did get back.
        Oh, Mother, I’ve never had such an enchanted night. It was like those storybooks you used to read me, where everything goes right and the people are all having fun and enjoying life, something that I thought could only take place in fairy tales, though you said differently.
        We walked to one of the fancier restaurants in town hand in hand. She looked so radiant in her green skirt and white silky top. Her necklaces sparkled and she was the perfect definition of beauty.
        The meal was wonderful and we talked about birthdays, how Buffy’s always turned out badly, what we each thought the perfect one would be like, a little about Spike since he came to mind after yesterday’s encounter. The Scoobies end up meeting such a wide variety of, what, people, creatures? She mentioned more about Drusilla, and Ethan Rayne again, the mayor, Richard Wilkins. We even talked a bit about poetry and who we liked. I was finding the Romantics of the early Victorian Era, especially the Bronte sisters, fascinating. She expressed again her admiration for my effort and made me blush as deep as the wine. The candlelight sparkled in her eyes and I can’t remember a thing I ate.
        Afterwards we went to the Bronze, and though we were a little over dressed, we got to dance and listen to the music. It was a lot of fun and we even got to hold each other for a couple of slow dances. We weren’t the only women together, though I didn’t recognize any of the others from the Lesbian Alliance. We talked about the music we liked in between, held hands some more, danced again. My world began and ended at arm’s reach with her. For a change no one shouted anything at us and our time there was trouble free and thoroughly enjoyable, perhaps even idyllic.
        Even the walk home was pleasant and without any of Sunnydale’s other ‘nightlife’ to disturb us. We talked a little bit about magic and various spells on the way back, and decided the night wouldn’t feel right if we didn’t practice something. We settled on practicing conjuration, partially cuz we didn’t want anything messy while we were still dressed up. We’d see if we could call small objects to us from the closet, or maybe even the bathroom. Distance really shouldn’t matter, but I found, when younger, that it does at the outset for some reason. Likely it’s a confidence or mental block thing.
        We made our circle, held hands and felt each other’s energy flowing around and through us. The familiar electric tingle and crackle that still remains very exciting and wonderful passed through me. We each pictured the objects we desired brought to us, a pencil at first, then later books and various magical herbs. She reasoned that being able to call specific components would be useful if we had to cast a spell in the ‘field’ and didn’t have the proper materials with us. Always thinking practical, and of ways to make herself more useful to the slayer, that’s my dear, sweet girl.
        We didn’t do too bad either. We ran a few things down to the bathroom and put them in one of the stalls and then successfully apported them to us. It was fun if not quite so spectacular as some of the other things we’ve done. Next time we’re going to try and conjure something from nothing, or maybe bring it all the way over from her dorm room. She laughed and said as long as it wasn’t the chair Buffy was sitting on, and we both sniggered at the idea of various items popping away as Buffy sat there trying to do her homework.
        We cleaned up and I don’t think there was any question that she was going to stay. We agreed to change at the same time just to speed things up and slid into bed from opposite sides. As I settled in, she ran her foot along mine, and it sent a tremor of delight through me, her skin was so cool and smooth.
        I opened my mouth to say something, but she silenced me with a nibble and a kiss saying, ‘no words, only touching tonight.’ She’d ended with a whisper in my ear and took the lobe in a tiny, soft, kissing caress that made the previous tremble seem like nothing. Her weight on top of me felt so slight, so comfortable, and yet made my breath come quicker. I kissed her mouth, her chin, the base of her neck and ran my tongue along her collar bones. She tasted as sweet as she smelled, as she is. My heart raced as her hands worked down my shoulders, over my arms and onto each breast. I could feel myself harden under her fingers, the fabric of my pajamas maddeningly thick.
        I ran my own hands along her sides, over her rear as the muscles there contracted while she moved. She was so soft and yet firm, like nothing I’d ever felt. Our mouths clasped again in another sequence of kisses and we eventually rolled onto our sides. I felt one palm snake under my shirt, her fingers lightly stroke my stomach, trail upwards to cup a breast, the thumb and one finger softly pinch and caress the nipple. I think I moaned ever so slightly and slowly I felt the buttons come undone, her breath, fast and heated on my chest as her head neared me and then the warm fire of her mouth upon me.
        It was so much more erotic and excruciatingly pleasurable than the last time, when we’d been in the throes of the nether spell. The area between my legs virtually burned and I arched my back into her, while my hands found their way into her hair, pressing her more tightly against me. Her tongue traced a rapidly cooling, silky line to the other mound and the procedure was repeated eliciting small murmurs from me.
        After a few moments I wanted, needed to taste her and as her head raised I rolled her fully on her back and kissed her mouth, her nose, her cheeks, showered her with bites, nibbles and kisses, working my way first back towards the soft nub of her ear and then down to her collar.
        My hands weren’t so dexterous, but she helped open her shirt and I saw the gleaming pale skin, the darker halo around her erect nipples and lowered my mouth down on her. It was her turn to moan and wriggle and the taste of her perspiration and tender skin was almost more than I could stand.
        Once again I could feel the desire, the need within me and could sense a similar response in her. Yet, though I wanted to feel all of her, to taste her inner fire, I don’t think either of us felt undue pressure to rush ahead. There’d be plenty of time for that later, right now we could go slow, enjoy the gradual explorations, the new sensations and discoveries.
I’ve never been with anyone before and though she has, this is her first time with a woman. We only have one chance to enjoy the newness, the freshness of it all and I don’t think either of us saw the need for haste. With each new step the desire kept on building, yet the sense of this being something special and meant to last continued to grow as well. We went on touching, licking, kissing each other until we were at least partially sated for the moment. We fell asleep wrapped together, our tops agape, her bare skin pressed against mine, a smile curling both our lips.
        I’d told her I loved her and it hadn’t freaked her out; given her the wiggins. Although she hadn’t said the same, I hoped, believed, that soon she’d be able to. Another barrier had fallen between us and till the time that the last few did, I could be content to have her beside me when I woke in the morning, to know that I was hers, that she was becoming mine. Few are given such blessings.
TBC…
(post note: this time the poem is, unfortunately, mine. It has no title.)
Well, that's it for now.