Author: Midnight Girl
                Title: Harem Dreams (1/?)
                Rating: R
                Pairing: W/A
                Summary: Willow has a strange dream... or is it?
                This is set during the high school years. It's also slightly based on the
                movie "Kull the Conquerer." I know, sad, but true.
                Feedback: Need it like air.
                To Shadow, who liked this idea. : ) Thanks. To Kylia, whose name I stole.
                It's a homage, I promise.
                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
 
 

                "Serena..."

                Willow blinked slowly. Someone was waving their hands in front of her face.
                She looked up, an exotic dark-haired beauty grinned down at her. Her high
                cheekbones and large black eyes reminded her of Cordelia. She sat up and
                looked around. What a weird dream this was.

                It looked like she was trapped in the bottle from "I Dream of Jeanie" She
                was laying on a deep pile of emerald satin pillows. There were several
                simalar palletes and silk-covered divans in rich colors spread throughout
                the high-ceilinged room. Beautiful ancient-looking murals covered the walls.
                Bird cages filled with brightly colored parrots and lorakeets adorned
                corners. Their chirping mingled with the gurgling of the deep fountain at
                the center of the room where several beautiful women sat splashing each
                other happily.

                There many gorgeous women in the room. Voluptuous blondes, delicate Asian
                beauties, exotic brunettes. She noticed she was the only redhead.

                She looked down. She was wearing a gauzy skirt of deep crimson material that
                was split every two inches at the waist. Crimson scarves were twisted over
                her breasts to form a sort of halter top.

                She grinned, wondering what Freud would say about dreaming of being a harem
                girl.

                "I have a serious virgin/whore complex," she muttered.

                "Serena," the dark-haired girl said, waving her hand in front of Willow's
                face again. "We have to prepare. Jarel's nephew has come to claim his
                rightful place."

                "As... what?" Willow asked.

                "Are you feeling ill?" the girl asked, feeling Willow's forehead. "Galen has
                come to claim his place as king."

                "Okay," Willow nodded.

                "And your lord and master..." she continued.

                "Oh, sure," Willow nodded. Not only was she sexually repressed, now she had
                submission issues, too. She made a mental note to look this up in the dream
                dictionary. For the mean time, she might as well go with it.

                "Come on," her companion laughed, pulling her from her divan.

                "Delilah," a curvy blonde approached them with shimmering material draped
                over her arm. "I thought you might like to borrow these."

                Delilah gasped. "But Kylia, these are your favorites!"

                "Yes, well, I just got a new one and you'll look beautiful in the blue,"
                Kylia insisted, kissing her cheek. "And we have a new king to impress.
                Serena, try the green. It will bring out your eyes."

                Willow nodded and smiled. Kylia turned her back and began brushing through
                another girl's dark ebony hair.

                "That was nice of her," Willow said.

                "This isn't like other harems," Delilah said, turning Willow around. She
                began fiddling with the ties at Willow's back. "There's no petty bickering.
                No jealousy. We love each other and treat each other as family. We're really
                very fortunate."

                Willow gasped as the scarves dropped from her chest. She grabbed at the
                material covering her breasts. She looked about the room. Apparently the
                other women hadn't noticed. They were all to busy dressing themselves.
                Perfuming their wrists and ankles. Rubbing oils into their skin. Kohling
                their eyes. It was a very sensual scene.

                "I know you're nervous," Delilah said, cupping her chin. "Being bought for
                such a high sum, even for a virgin. Jarel dying before he could take you.
                And now suddenly we have a new king to contend with. I know it's been very
                trying for you. But I hear that Galen is one of the most handsome men in the
                10 kingdoms. We're really very fortunate."

                "If we're so fortunate, why do keep trying to convince me of how fortunate
                we are?" Willow muttered. Delilah grinned sheepishly.

                Willow let Delilah undo her top and dress her in another more extravagant
                dress. well, it wasn't really a dress so much as a intricately beaded crop
                top and wrap skirt of a shimmering emerald green. The top was held up with
                beaded spaghetti straps and barely caressed the flesh over her ribs. She
                tugged at it uncomfortably as Delilah tied a series of knots about her
                waist.

                "Don't fidget," she said, slapping at Willow's hands.

                "You don't have to wait on me, you know," Willow said as Delilah arranged
                her hair around a silver and jade headpiece that draped across her forehead.

                "Need I remind you that the last time you tied your own stays, we had to cut
                you out of your sarong?" Delilah grinned.

                Willow laughed. Suddenly a gong sounded from the distance, Willow guessed it
                meant their king was approaching. She couldn't wait to see who it was. Jerry
                Springer, maybe?

                She lined up with the other girls and curtsied deeply. Delilah shoved a silk
                drawstring purse into Willow's hand.

                "Dont' forget these," she whispered. Willow looked into it, it held a deck
                of tarot cards. Her brow creased.

                "Ladies, please," a warm familiar voice caressed Willow's ear. "Don't bow on
                my account. Even the king must bow to beauty such as this."

                Willow's head snapped up. This was a weird dream. Before her stood a very
                tanned, very human Angel.

                Her jaw dropped. Angel was gorgeous, straight off of the cover of a tacky
                romance novel. His hair was long and thick and pulled back from his
                shoulders. His skin shone bronze and glowed with health.

                Willow's mouth ran dry just looking at him. Other parts were considerably
                more moist.

                "Galen" made his way around the room, introducing himself to his new
                consorts. When he reached Willow, he bowed deeply and kissed her palm.

                "Serena, I hear you are a teller of fortunes," he said, a wicked glimmer
                sparkled in his eyes.

                "Er, um, well, that is," she stammered. Delilah kicked her shin. "Yes, I
                am."

                "Excellent," he grinned. He turned. "Bring your cards to my chambers
                tonight. Cast the fortune of my kingdom. Ladies."

                And with that, he left the harem. The women breathed a collective sigh of
                relief.

                "Lucky Girl," Delilah grinned.

                "Yeah," Willow chuckled nervously. "Lucky me."
                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                Willow blinked slowly. Her own room came slowly into focus. Her own plain
                little room. No birdcages, fountain or concubines in sight. She groaned and
                flopped back on the pillows.

                "What a fucked up dream."
 
 

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