by rowanstar » Mon Dec 17, 2007 1:29 am
Title: An Undecided Affair
Author: rowanstar
Rating: NC17
Setting: AU Sunnydale
Spoilers: None
Distribution: Please contact me first.
Disclaimer: Characters and settings of Buffy the Vampire Slayer owned by Joss Whedon and the good fellas at Mutant Enemy.
Summary: Willow Rosenberg’s life was perfect. She had the perfect job, the perfect husband, and the perfect house often filled with her perfect friends. Yes, she thought she had it all until she met Tara and what started out as a clandestine meeting became a struggle between what she thought she had always wanted and what she never knew she needed.
Author's note: Hey guys! Thanks for being patient and sorry for the long hiatus. I'm kind of posting this as I go, so as my life gets busy my writing sufferes. Hopefully there won't be such a long time between ch.1 and ch.2 seeing as I'll be on christmas vacation. Thanks everyone who read or reviewed this story. Stick with me and I guarantee you a bumpy yet rewarding ride.
[center]Ch. 1[/center]
Eight Months Ago
The sound of tapping keys filled the room, the low hum of a PC’s processor and the soothing tone of 60’s jazz music filtering through high end speakers serving as background soundtrack to an otherwise humdrum evening. Scattered coffee mugs and used dinner plates piled high upon the computer desk, making Willow Rosenburg wince.
Gotta do something about those. She sighed, stifling a yawn against the back of her hand. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and she could barely focus on the screen of her computer. The clock read 2: 20 AM. “Time to go to bed,” she said aloud to the darkened room.
With that, she hit several commands on her keyboard and pushed away from the desk. As she stood stretching she realized how tired she was. Her bones felt like lead and her head was all stuffy, like she had cotton balls stuffed in her ears. She shook her red tresses and walked slowly from the room hitting the lights on the way out. She thought fleetingly of cleaning up her workspace but quickly dismissed the idea. She’d do it tomorrow.
Hot water pelted against her head, turning the skin of her shoulders an unusual shade of red. A shower was perfect, just what she needed to end a very stressful day. As she ran the soap against her body, she groaned in pleasure. It almost made her want to relieve the tension that permeated her overwrought muscles.
A little bit of self loving would surely cure whatever need she had felt since Oz’s departure several months before. Her hand reached down across the planes of her flat stomach, wanting to comb through the small thatch of rosette curls that protected her sex. But she stopped and sighed. She was much to tired to handle a long drawn out session and she knew there was no way it would end quickly, not with her body feeling like it had been run over by a Mac truck.
Instead she finished washing, drying off quickly with her favorite towel and going about her usual nightly ritual.
When she finally stumbled into the master bedroom, throwing on her pj’s and climbing drunkenly into bed, she was beyond exhausted. The shower had done exactly as she had wanted and left her bedraggled and languid. She sank into the mattress of her large four-poster and waited for sleep to over take her.
But it didn’t. She waited…and waited…and waited some more. By the time an hour had passed the bed looked like a war zone as she had tossed and turned every which way. The comforter was on the floor, the pillows were strewn across the bed, and the sheets were tangled so thoroughly around her body she had no idea how she was going to get out short of cutting the bed cloths.
Willow growled in frustration. She thought for sure that tonight would be the night. She’d finally get a good night’s sleep. She had purposely stayed up late, pushed herself to the point of breaking just so she could sleep through the night, a wish she apparently wasn’t going to get.
This had been going on for months now. At first she thought it was because Oz was so rarely home. It was just that she missed another body in their huge bed. Unfortunately that hypothesis hadn’t panned out. She couldn’t sleep even when he was there. Her next guess was that she was just working too late, that her internal clock was all out of wack what with the hours that she tended to keep. So, she changed her life style, stopped working late into the night and went to bed at a decent hour. That didn’t seem to work either because it just gave her more time to toss and turn.
She tried every remedy that she knew and then every one her friends knew. Eventually she quit altogether and went to see a doctor, who prescribed her a heavy duty sleeping pill that was sure to knock her out for at least eight whole hours.
She had been reluctant to use them and only took one when it was completely and totally obvious that she wasn’t going to get any sleep unless she did.
Tonight seemed to be one of those nights. She rolled out of bed, tripping over the tangled sheets, and padded quietly back to the bathroom where she rummaged in the darkness for the medicine cabinet. She wondered if she should turn on a light but settled for squinting at the varied medicine bottles on the shelf. Finally, she found the one she wanted and popped one pill into her mouth, chasing it with water from the sink.
As she stumbled back to bed, Willow thought she could almost feel the sleeping pill working. She fell into the mattress, her face pressed into the clean sheets. She was out in less then a minute.
************
“…so I decided to sleep with an evil soulless vampire and now I’m pregnant with his demon baby.”
Eyes that were once glazed and unseeing blinked furiously in the afternoon sun.
“What?” With her brow furrowed in total confusion, Willow looked like the waking dead, complete with sleep hooded eyes, sallow skin and sunken sockets.
“Welcome back to the living.” Buffy said. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ear and looked amusedly at her friend who still looked completely lost in her post daydream state.
“I thought I’d have to pour this mocha on your head.” She smiled, “Glad I didn’t have to. I was really craving some mocha-y goodness today.”
Willow sighed dejectedly, running a pale hand through her tousled red locks and looking around the now crowded coffee shop with mild interest. “Yeah, I’m really sorry. I’ve just been so…” she yawned widely, “tired lately.”
“Still not getting much sleep, huh?” Her friend looked worriedly at her. “You know, you should really try…”
“Getting laid,” A husky voice said beside her ear. Willow grimaced at the crude comment and watched as the new arrival plopped unceremoniously into a chair and proceeded to greet the blonde haired girl with a kiss straight out of a Girls Gone Wild video.
Willow shook her head. Who’d have guessed that her straighter than thou best friend would end up with a definitely not straight sex-bot on legs. It had thrown everyone for a loop. And why wouldn’t it? Buffy Summers and Faith Lehane were as different as night and day.
Buffy was a beautiful, perky bottle blonde. She liked clothes and shoes and spent more time choosing the right outfit than any sane person should really have a reason to. She had even been a cheerleader for goodness sake. The closest Faith had gotten to a cheerleading outfit was when she was trying to take it off. The dark haired bombshell was much more of a leather and lace kind of girl. She oozed sex. She had this all consuming raw magnetic power that was so attractive, when she set her sights on someone there was no resisting, a fact that Buffy apparently seemed to understand.
“I wish you guys wouldn’t do that in front of me,” she said, breaking the silence. Her friends broke apart, Buffy with a full-on blush coloring her cheeks and Faith with a slight smirk pulling at the edges of her kiss-swollen lips.
“Now Red,” Faith replied. “Don’t get ya panties in a twist. I’m sure the Wolfman’s just hankerin’ to get home and put it to you. Like I always say,” she stretched her arms above her head and rested one behind her lover’s chair, “nothing’ puts you to sleep better than a good, hard f…”
“Faith,” Buffy interrupted, “must you be so crude?”
The brunette smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”
The blonde shook her head but didn’t bother correcting her lover’s flawed logic. “Look Will, you need a nice relaxing vacation. You’re just stressed.”
“I don’t have time for a vacation. I’m right in the middle of this huge project…”
“Like I said, stress.” Buffy reached across the table to clasp her friend’s hands. “Come on Will. You don’t even have to leave the state. We can go to a spa in LA, make it a whole girls’ weekend or something. What do you say?”
“Buff, I really don’t think…”
“Then don’t think,” her friend replied. “Just do it. Please?” Her eyes were wide, sincere and pleading. And she’d added that little whine to her voice at the end as well.
Willow felt herself start to cave. Damn those puppy dog eyes. If only her best friend didn’t look so cute and fluffy. If only she were wrong and Willow really didn’t need a vacation. But Buffy was cute and she really did need some time away from everything. While Willow realized this, it didn’t mean she was going to admit it or give in without a fight.
“Look,” She started. “I appreciate this. I really do. But I’ve got too much on my plate right now. I’m developing this new security system and troubleshooting some others. And the company picnic is coming up so I have to plan that. And you know how I get with those things. Everything’s gotta be planned now, not later, or I’ll be up all night a week before the event and then I really won’t be getting any sleep and I just can’t. I won’t.”
Buffy frowned at that last statement. “First off, Will, I know for a fact that you’re way ahead of schedule for all of your work. Secondly, the company picnic is three months away. You have plenty of time to work on it. And finally, I don’t care. You’re going,” she nodded her head definitively, “and that’s final.”
That got the red head a little miffed. “I’m not going.” She crossed her arms across her chest and sat straighter in her chair, her brow furrowing in her signature resolve face. “You can’t make me.”
************
“I can’t believe you made me do this.”
The sun shone brightly high in the eastern sky. It glinted off the metal hood of the vintage Firebird making it sparkle and shine in iridescent delight. Buffy marveled at the deep blood red of her lover’s car. She wasn’t completely sure why she had insisted on this color, not fire red, not red red, but a deep, soulful, spiritual red. Faith often said it just spoke to her.
Which Buffy could get. The car was like an extension of her lover. It was all sleek lines and beautiful craftsmanship on the surface and hungry, angry, powerful V8 engine underneath. No other vehicle in the world was quite as attuned to a driver as the Firebird was to Faith.
Buffy turned in her seat looking at the brunet. Well, maybe her bike. She continued to turn around so that she could stare at her best friend who sat forlornly in her seat, frowning at the window.
“Yah know, pouting isn’t gonna make me turn this car around.” Faith looked through her rear view mirror, voicing her lover’s thoughts as she continued driving. It was a straight shot to LA, a fact that made Faith extremely happy because, as long as she didn’t run into any cops, she could go as fast as she wanted. She was already pushing 90mph and gunning for a hundred.
Willow pouted further, more out of consternation for being found out than any real desire to go home. Truth of the matter was she was looking forward to the weekend spa get away. Relaxed would be a good change from her usual state of over caffeinated, sugar high mania. But she had protested too vehemently to change her tune now. Wouldn’t want her friends to get too smug about things just because they were right.
She shifted in her seat, stretching her body out against the leather cushions and pulling her mini-mouse hoodie over her shoulders to act as a blanket.
“Hey, your feet better not be on my upholstery. I just got that cleaned.” Faith craned her neck around to glare at the redhead and her dirty feet.
“FAITH!” Buffy grabbed her lover by the cheek, swiveling her head around so that she was facing the road once more. “Eyes on the road! I’d actually like to live long enough to go to this spa.”
Faith opened her mouth as if to reply with a biting retort but one look at the blonde made her bite her tongue. The rest of the trip was made in relative silence with the two passengers drowsing in their seats while music pumped rhythmically through the car’s speakers.
Willow jerked awake as Faith matter-of- factly stomped on her brakes.
“Hey! Get out of the fucking road!” She yelled as a j-walking pedestrian flipped her off while walking slowly across the street. This was met with much anger from Faith who looked like she was going to jump out of the car and beat the ever loving shit out of the young man. Instead she settled for a sarcastically shouted ‘Thanks’ and a soft ‘fucker’ said under her breathe.
They pulled in front of the hotel’s valet kiosk without much fanfare and got out of the car as valets and busboys came to get their bags. As Buffy and Faith talked to the hired help Willow gazed dazedly at the mammoth structure that was the Hyperion Hotel and Spa.
It had changed a lot since she had last seen it nearly three years before. This, she knew, was courtesy of its new manager who had taken on the reigns of running the hotel with open arms and an iron fist. Cordelia Chase was a woman who got what she wanted, when, where and in whatever fashion she wanted it in. She was, simply put, a powerhouse and it astounded Willow to no end that the girl she had hated and despised throughout high school, the thoughtless, pampered, and spoiled heiress, had turned out to be such a shrewd and savvy businesswoman and a truly caring and compassionate soul.
“Well, what took you so long?” Well, maybe not that compassionate.
Cordelia stood in the entrance to the Hyperion dressed, as usual, to kill. Her business suit was tight and short, accentuating the curvy lines of her body and the beautiful sweep of her long legs. Her hair was cut stylishly short and streaked with blonde highlights, a far cry from the long lustrous natural brown she once sported during her tyrannical high school years.
“I was expecting you at 3 o’clock.” She glared at her expensive watch and then turned her gaze back on the snooze rumpled red head. “It’s after 5. Do you have any idea how hard it is to reschedule appointments around here? Especially when I had to squeeze you guys in at the last minute.”
Willow opened her mouth to explain but was cut off as Buffy and Faith reached their side. “Blame Red.” Faith replied and received a glare for her efforts. “Well it is your fault. If you had just walked out of your house instead of making us drag you kicking and screaming, we would have been here on time.”
She turned her attention to their host, giving the taller woman her trade marked smirk as she gave her the once over. “Damn! Queen C, can I say you are looking fly tonight? New outfit?”
Cordelia preened and nodded. Though the years had helped her erase most of her horrid high school qualities, it did nothing for her ego. She would say that a girl just needed reassurance of her feminine wiles every once in a while. Willow would say that she hadn’t let go of her vanity just yet.
The hotel manager smiled wickedly at Faith and sauntered close enough to wrap her arms around the other woman’s thin waist. “And they say gentlemanliness is dead.”
No one failed to notice as Buffy fumed quietly by their side, taking note of every placement of hands and timing to the second the length of the embrace. It wasn’t until they pulled away that she even thought to begin breathing again and even then she cast disparaging looks at her former arch nemesis.
They had been rivals once, way back when clothes, hair style and popularity were the only things they had to worry about. Buffy had been the new girl in town and managed to land herself a hot older guy named Angel. Cordy saw this as an affront to her position as resident class queen and had set her sights on the blonde’s hot beau. Unfortunately for her, the blonde and her man were much to in love to ever be parted. Ironically enough, Buffy turned out to be gay and Cordy managed to snag Angel after all. This was still a soar point for the blonde.
“Well, let’s not stand here all day.” Cordelia said. She turned around, leading the way inside to the foyer of the building where they had very little time to notice the décor as the brunette started barking orders to the various staff who milled about the space.
Signaling to a man behind the receptionist desk, she turned back towards her small town friends. “Okay, your bags have already been sent to your rooms. This,” she motioned to the small cheery looking man who had rushed to her side. “…is Raul. He’ll be your guide and general man bitch for the weekend. I have taken the liberty of planning out your spa visits.”
She held out her hand, in which Raul placed three small leather folders. “These are your itineraries, room assignments and keys, hotel charge card and spa passes. Do not loose them. I will not give you another one.” This she said especially to Buffy, who looked sheepishly away. A few bad experiences with loosing important things and everyone thinks you’re irresponsible.
“Follow Raul and he’ll take you to your five o’clock appointment.” She turned as if to leave but was stopped by a startled exclamation.
“Wait, we need to change first. Maybe relax a little.” Willow said defiantly.
Cordelia glanced over her shoulder. “You would have had plenty of time to rest if you had gotten here on time. As it stands, you’re already late for your next appointment and
I am not rescheduling anything else. You don’t like it, go home.” She smiled with false chipperness and sauntered away yelling a heartfelt “see ya” over her shoulders.
Willow shook her head as they followed the man bitch towards their first appointment. Once a bitch always a bitch.
************
The room was cold. That was the only thing Willow could think about as she stood swathed in an oversized fluffy white robe in the center of one of the hotel’s luxurious massage rooms. On any other occasion, the redhead would have called the space quaint, comfortable even, with its low intimate lighting, scented candles and neutral colors. At the moment, though, all she could think about was how uncomfortable she was and how she really didn’t want to be there.
Willow had been unceremoniously thrown into the room just a few minutes before by the harried and obviously gay attendant, Raul, who had told her in no uncertain terms that she was to strip down completely and wait for the masseuse to arrive. He had immediately left thereafter taking Buffy and Faith to their couple’s massage session.
This knowledge only made Willow feel worse, as her own spouse was off in another country singing love songs and ballads to thousands of beautiful and available women and here she was, stranded in a L.A. spa about to get a massage by some guy she had never met. Uncomfortable didn’t even begin to describe what she was feeling at that exact moment. But she had done as the man bitch requested and stripped down to her flushed and goose-bumped skin, scrambling to find a discreet place to put her clothes.
And that was what she was doing when the masseuse walked in. The red head whirled, almost tripping over her own legs, a startled yelp escaping before she could stop it.
“I’m s-s-so sorry! I didn’t m-mean to startle you.”
Willow looked up to find the source of the voice and stared. Beautiful. That was the only thing that flowed through her usually over active brain. The girl was just beautiful. She stood in front of the door dressed in the formal garb of the spa attendants, a tight white t-shirt with “Hyperion Hotel & Spa” emblazoned across her chest and khaki pants hanging low at her waist and showing off a delightful strip of skin. Her long dirty blonde hair, which framed the contours of her face, was pulled back behind one ear in a fashion that Willow could only call cute. And her eyes, goddess her eyes. They were a lovely shade of blue, deep and wide, with a soulful gut wrenching truth about them. The red-head could feel herself getting lost within their depths, falling deeper and deeper into the magnetic pull of the other woman’s aura.
“A-are you okay?” Damn, even her voice was beautiful, melodic and sweet to the ears, full of an underlying passion and grace. “Maybe I sh-should go and c-come back later.”
It was only when the blonde turned to leave, her hand already on the knob of the door that Willow realized what was going on around her. She wanted to stop the girl, wanted to call to her, make her…
“RAUL!” Willow winced as the other woman turned around, arching one eyebrow in total confusion. Realizing that her shouted words made absolutely no sense, she tried to explain. “Raul t…told me to come in here. Well, a…actually he kinda pushed me in here, which might I say was kind of rude, but he said that I should take off all my clothes, which I did, but I got cold, so I found this robe and put it on, ‘cause I assumed it was for me, cause, hello, I’m the only one naked and therefore in need of a robe.” She winced again. “Not that you can’t have the robe. You’re totally welcome to the robe, w…when I’m not in it, cause I’m kind of naked right now and if I take it off I’ll be cold again and then you’ll be able to see my nipp...and I think I’m gonna shut up now.”
Willow looked away, embarrassed beyond belief. She glanced everywhere but at the woman, who she assumed was totally confused and bewildered by the lithe girl who stood naked in her work space.
“You can put those over there.” The words startled the red head enough for her to look up at the blonde. She was smiling, obvious amusement lighting up her eyes and lifting one corner of her mouth in a helpless grin. Willow felt her knees go weak. If she’d had the brain cells and fortitude at that moment she might even have been able to ask herself why she was reacting that way, but as it were she couldn’t manage much of anything in the speech or thought department.
She looked at the blonde blankly. “Your clothes…” Willow glanced down at her hands, realizing for the first time that she was still holding them. Still smiling, the curvy woman pointed to a counter beside a changing curtain in the corner. “You can put them over there.”
When the red head turned back to the other woman she was pulling out an assortment of oils and massagers and towels from the cabinets.
“My name’s Tara.” So the blond had a name, a wonderful name at that, flowy and spirited just like everything else about her. Tara looked at the red head expectantly.
Willow got the hint. “Willow.”
Tara turned around to look at the other woman. “It’s nice to meet you Willow. Why don’t you sit on the table so we can get started?” She turned back around as if to give her privacy.
Willow looked at the table and sat, less uncomfortable then she had been mere minutes before.
“Could you take off your robe and lay down for me? Put the towel at the end of the table across your lower half.” She must have noticed the looked the red head had on her face because she quickly tried to soothe her with reassuring words. “You can show as little or as much as you’re comfortable with.”
Well that won’t be much of anything. But Willow did as the masseuse asked, lying down naked on her stomach with only a thin piece of clothe protecting her modesty. Her level of uncomfortableness had shot right back up.
As she was getting settled Tara was trying her hardest not to turn around. She had deliberately put her back to the other woman, not to protect her virtue or offer her privacy but because she was more than positive she would have jumped the redhead if she had seen even a hint of naked skin. This would have been a very bad thing. Not because she would have been fired, she had already put in her two weeks notice, but because she was very sure that the other girl was straight.
If there was one thing Tara did not do, it was straight women. Things got much to complicated much to fast when lesbians got involved with straight women. The only thing it can lead to is heartbreak. So, she continued to stand with her back to the room, fiddling with the tools of her trade until she was sure the smaller woman was ready for her.
Willow heard the rustle of moving clothing as Tara turned around and walked to her side. “Now I just want you to relax. Don’t worry. I don’t bite.” The words were said soothingly and Willow felt herself relaxing against her will. That is until she felt the sensation of skin on skin. Then, her entire body was taught and stiff, crackling like livewire. The press of flesh against the heat of her shoulders acted like a spark to a flame, rekindling and alighting every pore on her flushed skin and rendering her completely incoherent with need.
For Tara, it was a trying test of control. When she had first walked into the room and had seen the red head she had thought the younger woman was cute in a quirky kind of way. That had transformed into adorable when she had first heard the girl babble. But she hadn’t expected desire to play a key in this visit until the woman had accidentally mentioned her breasts in her ramblings. This turned Tara’s thoughts from how adorable she was to how hot she was. It made her think about the redhead’s lithe small body, perfectly sculpted figure and perky breasts, how she just wanted to take one of those rosy peaks into her mouth, bite and lick and tease it and the girl until…
Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts, Tara. She shook her head in consternation at her own antics and commenced a breathing exercise.
“Breathe with me Willow.” She instructed. “Take a deep breath, hold it, and then let it out slowly. And Again.”
Willow did, trying to relax under the unusual circumstances. She stiffened briefly when Tara’s hands began to massage the muscles of her shoulders but forced herself to relax and continue her steady breathing.
This was not the first massage the redhead had ever experienced. Being married to a rock star did have its perks. So she was no novice to the mechanics of the process and her own reaction to it. But this was beyond ridiculous. She had never felt this way before, not even with Oz. They had taken turns giving each other massages and he was no slouch at it, but it was nothing like this.
Every massage of her muscles, every slide of oil and fingers and palms against her back made her melt further on the table. She felt completely and utterly boneless, yet charged, as if she could run a hundred miles if only her limbs would cooperate. And she was ever conscious of the growing pool of heat centered in the pit of her belly and the valley of her thighs.
Tara worked on the small of Willows back, pressing and kneading along her spine. She groaned, the sound filling the room and making the blonde sway where she stood. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. She glanced at the clock and cursed. She was scheduled for a one hour session and they were barely in a quarter of an hour. Shit.
Tara worked diligently. Later, she couldn’t have told anyone much of what transpired within those last 45 minutes, what was said or not said, what was touched or not touched. All she could remember was the feel of the younger woman beneath her and how she wanted to feel it again, only more. She wanted her whole body to massage that of the redhead’s, for nothing to separate the touch of skin on skin.
But for Willow, the experience was something altogether different. She remembered every touch, every sound, every hitch in breathe or voice. How could she forget when the blonde had first brushed her fingers along the length of her legs, kneading the muscles there with a sure and steady touch? That was when the conversation, a low hum of idle chatter, had stopped abruptly as Willow gasped audibly at the feeling. So close. Her fingers were so close to that place between her thighs, that place that would surely give them both unbelievable pleasures.
She had nearly writhed then, in desire, almost unable to control herself. And again, there came a cause to wonder, to ask herself why such a reaction was immediate. But, as before, she neither had the inclination or the ability to think about such things. No, she just lay there, beneath the gentle yet strong hands of the beautiful blonde and shook with suppressed need.
When the time came to a close, the two women were reluctant to stop. Tara couldn’t even imagine what it felt like not to have the other woman’s skin beneath hands and was almost willing to throw caution to the wind. But she pulled herself back from the brink and took her hands off of the redhead. She’s straight. She’s straight. She’s straight.
Willow’s body felt cold and bereft without the other woman touching her. She wanted more. She wanted…goddess, but she wanted her. A half crazed courage weld up inside of her. She threw all thoughts of caution out of her mind and sat up, turning around so that the towel barely covered her sex and leaned back on her outstretched arms.
Tara had already started to put away her things and as she threw the used towels into the bin she turned to face Willow and felt her heart stop beating.
Speech wasn’t possible.
Thought wasn’t possible.
Breathing, although necessary, wasn’t possible. Not with Willow sitting there looking like a goddess. Her short red hair looked mussed and tousled while her skin was flushed a deep red as her chest heaved as she panted. And her eyes, goddess, her eyes. They shone brightly in the dimness of the room, filled to bursting with desire.
In that moment it seemed to Tara that she was floundering, trying to grasp at the last scraps of her will and failing miserably. She barely gave a sigh as it slipped forever away and she threw herself at the naked and willing body of Willow. Guess she’s not that straight.
Her body slammed into the younger woman’s, their lips colliding as they overcame the sensation of finally touching. Hands scrambled over covered and uncovered flesh, grasping at blonde and red tresses. Rosy lips moved over rosy lips as tongues dueled and sucked for supremacy in the caverns of their mouths.
Tara groaned, the sound coming from deep within her chest, sending delightful shivers along the planes of Willow’s skin. Tara’s hand rested against the small of her back, bracing her as she pressed her body closer to the other girl, while the other charted a voyage across the heated flesh of her stomach.
Willow’s hands were making a journey of their own. She tangled one in the silkiness of Tara’s blonde hair, using it to guide the other woman’s head just where she wanted it, closer, so there was no space between the plush softness of their lips. Her other hand was busy searching for flesh. She wanted, more than anything at that very moment, to feel the blonde’s naked skin against her own.
Her hand furrowed underneath the regulation white t-shirt, scrambled for that first hint of heat, and when she found it, when she finally touched the naked planes of the blonde’s stomach it was like a whole fireworks display went off in Willow’s head, beneath her very skin. She tingled. From head to toe she tingled in new found desire, her arousal now stronger than she had ever experienced, stronger than she had even known was possible.
She wound her arm around Tara’s waist and yanked her even closer. But their position was awkward. Tara had already been half leaning over the table, Willow’s body stretched out across its length. To move closer, she would have to crawl on the table, cover Willow’s body with her own. Unless...
The thought entered Willow’s brain and didn’t seem to want to leave. She couldn’t believe she was thinking about it, knew exactly where it would lead. But she didn’t care, couldn’t care, not with Tara still touching her, running her hands along her back and up her arms. So, she once again took the bull by the horns and moved.
She turned her head, their lips popping as they separated. Tara’s moan of protest was quickly squelched as she realized what the redhead was doing. Willow sat up and swung her legs off the side of the table, dislodging the towel that had barely covered her in the first place, leaving her almost completely bare.
Tara gaped. Her breathe, which had been coming out in rapid puffs of air, swiftly left her as Willow parted her thighs and pulled the willing girl into the valley her legs had created.
“Willow.” The name came out as a needy whisper as Tara pushed herself closer to the redhead, erasing every vestige of air and space between them, lodging herself firmly at the apex of Willow’s thighs. She smashed their lips together once again, sucking the other woman’s tongue into her mouth, and ground her hips against her sex.
Willow groaned deep in her throat. The seam of the blonde’s jeans rubbed rhythmically against her clit as she pumped her hips, soaking the heavy cloth in her juices. Her hands reached for purchase as her own hips bucked uncontrollably into each of Tara’s thrusts. They slid down from their place in the blonde’s hair to rest on the swell of the other woman’s breasts. She almost came, right then and there.
She had never known that such pleasure could be garnered from something she had always considered to be more of a nuisance than anything else. But as she touched the perky mounds, kneaded them through shirt and bra she couldn’t help but want to suck on them, take the peaks into her mouth and bite and lick at them until she came uncontrollably from the feeling.
Tara couldn’t stop herself from groaning loudly from the sensation. She ground herself deeper into Willow’s sex, her hands reaching down to cup the redhead’s ass and pull her closer, as she tore her lips away from their impassioned kisses to suck at the skin along her neck. She trailed her lips up the column, nipping and sucking at the flesh along the way until she came to her pulse point, where she kissed and licked and bite at the flesh. Possession pulsed through her blood like wild fire. She wanted to leave her mark there, wanted everyone to know that the red head belonged to her.
“FUCK!” She was going to cum. Willow was sure of it. She could barely hang on as it was and there was Tara, sucking hard at one of her most arousing erogenous zones. Fuck. One hand slipped down to the edge of the table top for purchase, as her luscious legs wound themselves around the other girl’s ass and their hips humped furiously against each other. The other hand slipped back into the flow of blonde tresses, holding her head in place against the long column of her neck.
Goddess, but she was so close. Tara could smell the arousal coming off of Willow and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the girl was as close to cumming as she had ever been. One touch was all that was needed. One touch and the red head would go off like a rocket, screaming and cumming and clawing at her own flesh from the pleasure of it. She ground harder against her sex, thrusting her hips into Willow’s body as one hand moved along her thigh, reaching for the rosette curls that covered the woman’s dripping cunt.
She wormed her hand between their bodies, getting closer and closer to her destination, feeling the damp wetness that already seeped from the wonderful place between the red head’s legs. Just one touch. That’s all she needs. Just one more….
Her hand had practically reached its destination, fingers already combing through the coarse curls. Willow arched into them, desperately grinding herself against the hand, mewing in supplication, practically begging for that final touch as Tara tore her lips from the sweetness of her neck and plunged her tongue back into her mouth in a kiss that would have left her weak in the knees if she had been standing. All the while her fingers moved those last few inches, parting her nether lips and sifting through her wetness, finding that beautiful pearl of pleasure and…
Knock Knock.
Fuck. The two jumped, startled by the sudden noise. Another knock came as they stared at each other, thoughts and logic slowly coming back to them as they realized the position they were in.
Shit. Tara stumbled back. One hand going to her lips as another more insistent knock sounded at the door. She glanced to the entrée way and then back at Willow who had scrambled for her discarded towel and wrapped it protectively around herself. Shit.
Tara went to the door, opening it before the person outside could knock once more. An angry looking Raul stood one hand raised as if to knock once more while the other rested against the curve of his hip which was cocked to the side in a posture reminiscent of pissy women everywhere.
“What took you so long?” He asked. He didn’t give her enough time to reply as he ploughed on. “Doesn’t matter. Mrs. Chase has been looking for you. I’d suggest you go to her office ASAP.”
She nodded, looking back into the room and gesturing as if she were to close the door. Raul stuck out a well manicured hand and placed it on the door, keeping it open.
“I meant, like, now.” His eyes bore into her’s.
“O-okay. J-j-just let m-me get my s-s-stuff.” She turned back into the room closing the door behind her.
Willow had her back to her. She was half dressed, her jeans hanging loosely on her hips, struggling to put on her bra and shirt as fast as she possibly could.
“W-willow, I …” She barely paused in her scramble. It was as if she couldn’t hear her, didn’t want to hear her. Tara sighed heavily and gathered her own things. She was tempted, as she walked to the door, to get one last glimpse of the redhead, to turn around and pull her into her arms, wrap herself around her and give her the best kiss she had ever had, assure her that it wasn’t over.
But she didn’t. She moved to the door with seemingly steady ease and left without a sound or backwards glance. She knew, then, that she would regret it, already regretted it. Because it felt like goodbye. More than that, it felt like goodbye forever.
She walked out that door and felt the first nail in her coffin, as the door closed with a resounding click.
Damn it.[hr][hr][hr][hr]
I'm not a Republican I'm a Capitalist which is completely different...really!
Rowanstar
This is a twist I love the start keep going please.
NEW FIC! i really like this... it's different... in a very good way! please update soon 
i bet this has a lot of angst in it.
More, please.
