Chapter 27

Darla reread the passage again, and growled. Hitting the delete button, she sent the words off into the oblivion of the recycling bin. This was the moment they’d fought for and now, came the part she hated the most: Writing the acceptance speech. It couldn’t be too conciliatory or partisan. That would only invite the lepers and lobbyists. Each with their hands out for a crumb of Angel’s power, effectively dwindling it down to nothing.

“Okay, Henson, get your act together. He doesn’t pay you to write shit.” True, but he’s also not paying me to play the role of surrogate wife, either.

Darla dropped her head to the desk, banging it softly. Her life was so fucked up right now, she couldn’t believe she’d allowed something as messy as love to interfere in it.

Love? Did she really and truly love Liam Cavanaugh? Or was it more of a lust thing with a dash of idol worship? Oh, god. She groaned, banging her head again. Heller was right. There was a lot more going on between she and Liam than flirting.

Lunch with Heller had been it’s usually giggle and lecture fest. Darla hadn’t realized how much she’d missed Lee’s wisdom until she now. Darla needed impartiality and Lee brought that in spades to the table.

“How’s the speech coming?”

Darla yelped, spinning around in her seat to face the man who was haunting her every thought.

“I thought you had a meeting with Monica Compton. What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded harsh and accusing to her ears, and she couldn’t imagine what Angel was thinking. She winced as she heard his sharp intake of breath. She waited for the explosion. And waited, and waited.

“You’re avoiding me. I want to know why.”

Darla found the tip of her pencil to be highly interesting.

“I asked you a question.” Angel was by her side, gripping the air of her chair. “Why are you avoiding me?” Angel implored.

Darla turned slightly, blue eyes taking in his drawn, concerned face. “I’m…I’ve been busy. We only have a few days to cement our position. I’m doing what you pay me to do.”

The hairs on Darla’s arm stood on end as Angel’s breath tickled her skin. He watched fascinated, enthralled by her scent. Darla’s self-imposed exile was understandable the first day, but as the days wore on, he saw red.

“If this was about your job, I’d have no problem with what’s happened. But this is about us.” He said, shaking the chair. “This is about you and me and what happened the other day.”

No. No. No! We are not having this conversation. Not here. Not now. Not with the election a few days away. Darla pushed back from the desk, crossing the room to close her office door. She took a minute to gather her thought, not daring to look back over her shoulder at Angel.

“It was a mistake. It didn’t mean anything.” She told the door.

“Say that to my face and I might believe you.” Angel took Darla’s seat, picking up, then setting down the rough draft on the desk. “You’re acting like we fucked.” He knew the vulgar word would get Darla’s attention, and that was what he was hoping for. He wanted to crack the shell she’d placed around herself, to protect… who knew? Was she protecting herself or the campaign?

“What do you expect me to say, Angel?” Darla turned to face him, but didn’t approach. “I crossed a line, and all I’m reestablishing it.”

Angel leaned back, tilting his head as he studied Darla. “For a kiss that meant nothing, you sure are wound tight.” Angel wanted to laugh at the outraged look on Darla’s face. Score another one for Liam Cavanaugh. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

Darla clutched the door knob tightly, resisting the urge to stomp her feet like a little kid having a tantrum. “I’m not protesting. I’m not doing anything other than my job.”

A decision was made. Hell, it was probably made the second she ran out of the house. Angel stood up, stalking across the room, and grabbing Darla. His lips slammed down on hers, pressing her back against the door, making it shudder from her weight. Those closest to her office, wondered who’d lost their temper and how it’d affect them.

Darla whimpered, not from pain, but from the intensity of the kiss. She wanted to drown in this man. Wanted to lose herself in him, but the ringing of the phones, the chatter of the office penetrated the haze in her brain. She sagged against Angel’s chest, their breathing heavy and hard in the closed room.

“If you’re going to avoid me, avoid me for that kiss.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe you’re not coming tonight.” At Tara’s amused look, Buffy quickly clarified. “Coming to the show.”

Tara shrugged. “It couldn’t be helped. I’m new and improved. No more outlandish, outrageous behavior. No more ogling guys and gals. I’m a one woman, one man woman.”

Tara’s resolved face had Buffy half-expecting a banner to unfurl and a pledge of monogamy to be uttered. She waited. Nope, not gonna happen. “Oh, really. So you’re recommitted to your relationships?”

“That’s right. I promised my sweeties a date night, and that’s what they’ll get. And…it’s role-playing night.”

Buffy’s eyes grew large. You’re gonna regret asking. You know this, and yet your mouth is moving.

“Role playing? Isn’t a ménage every night enough variety for you?” Buffy laughed out loud at Tara’s contemplative look.

Tara sucked her teeth, laying her arm on Buffy’s shoulders. “Maybe, but this is current events themed, so we’ll be learning something.”

“Learning what?” Buffy asked skeptically. If there was something Tara didn’t know about sex, then it wasn’t meant to be known.

“Well, we’re exploring how J-Lo feels. We’re doing Strippergate.”

That wasn’t exactly what she thought they’d be doing, but okay, Buffy could go with that.

“Strippergate?”

“Yeah!” Tara exclaimed excitedly. “Willow and I are going to be the strippers and Xander’s going to be Ben.”

“And how’s this going to make you empathize with J-ho?” Buffy knew Tara’s explanation would be a humdinger. She just had to wait for the punch line.

“Well, it isn’t. Don’t you have to be an actual couple to be outraged?”

Buffy nodded. “Technically, yes.” Of course, if Spike had been Ben…eww..yucky..get that image out of my mind.. Spike’s hair is real…then he’d be bald right now. Cause I would have plucked every curl off his head and crotch.

“I fear for Spike if he ever strays.” Tara commented. “You look practically evil right now.”

With as straight a face as she could muster, Buffy replied. “What? Did I turn into Dru?”

“Meow! What brought on the Dru snark for today?”

“As opposed to every other day?” Buffy asked as she flopped ungracefully onto the sofa. “I had this god awful dream. Dru was standing over Spike and he was crying. Sobbing his eyes out.”

The pain on Spike’s face in the dream was reflected on Buffy’s. “He was devastated, and Cordy and Giles were trying to comfort him, but they couldn’t. Dru was happy.” She admitted, painfully. “She was happy he was heartbroken. God, that woman is a bitch. I could see her doing something like that.”

Tara sat down next to Buffy. Her sunny disposition gone. “Where were you?”

Buffy shook her head. “I wasn’t there. I never showed up.”

Tara closed her eyes, trying to mentally shake off the chill that raced down her spine. “Spike probably rubbed up against you and jarred you out of it before you could arrive.” Her attempt at levity was lame, but it lightened the moment.

“You’re right.” Buffy admitted. “He did, and then we did.”

Tara chuckled at the starry look, which seemed to be a permanent feature of Buffy’s eyes now. “Ah, the joy of sleepy-time sex. Isn’t it grand?”

Buffy wiggled her eyebrows, nodding her head furiously. “It most certainly is. Definitely washed away the bad memories of that dream.” Buffy glanced at her watch, which used to belong to Spike. “Now, I’ve got to run and drop these proofs off at the paper. I’ll see you tomorrow post-hangover for brunch. Give you the 4-1-1 on the show.”

Tara poked her lip out, exaggerating a pout.

“I’ve got to make a living, and besides that only works on Willow.

“Spoilsport. Alright, give Lee my warmest wishes and tell her next year, the girls are taking her out.”

“I will. Bye.” Buffy bounced out the door, her ponytail swinging to and from behind her. She waved excitedly at Tara as she backed her jeep out of the parking lot.

Tara watched her go until the tail lights were tiny pinpoints in the distance. Buffy’s dream was disturbing, simply for the fact, Tara believed everyone had the ability to see into the future. She hoped Buffy was one of those people who couldn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was time to stop plotting, and time to implement her plans. Dru mused as she reviewed the slips of paper on the desk.

“Hello, Mr. Parker, I need to see you today.” She twirled the cord around her finger as she waited for his response.

“Where would you like to meet?” Parker said, loud enough for Ethan Rayne to hear.

“My house around lunchtime.” Dru’s eyes glazed over as she saw with her inner eye her plans taking form.

“Your house? Umm…that’s a bit risky, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”

Dru rolled her eyes. Stupid men. Only good for fucking and paying for dinner. “If you’re worried my husband will see us together, never fear. He’s out for the entire day. Our business will be concluded before he returns. Unless we get caught up in what we’re doing.” She purred suggestively.

Parker’s eyebrows shot up. Now, he was curious. Druscilla Cavanaugh was a hellcat, according to the tidbits and snarls he picked up from Rayne.

“Let me get back to you. I had an appointment scheduled for that time, but I’m sure I can reschedule it.”

Dru grinned. “Yes, I’m sure you’ll do what you have to do to get to me.”

Dru hung the phone up, knowing she’d planted a tiny nugget of sexual innuendo in Parker’s mind. Men were easy to seduce. Easy to manipulate into situations that situated the seducer. Parker, like Liam, before him would do what she wanted, when she wanted, and to whom she wanted.

Her plan was simple. Liam and William would lose the women they loved, and she gagged as her mind uttered the word. They would lose them in as painful and horrific manner as Dru could invision. The beauty the blonde women were noted for would be destroyed, and all that would remain would be their lifeless bodies. Of course, Dru would ensure their deaths were not quick. No, that would be too easy, too merciful. She wanted Buffy and Darla to suffer. She wanted them to know why they were dying. They took what wasn’t theirs. And that would not do. So, the women had to die, and the men had to cry.

“Hee hee.” She giggled. “I made a funny.”

Dru smoothed her skirt as she sat at the breakfast table. On it, lay her social calendar. Tuesday was Election Tuesday, and therefore she would need to free her schedule to be with Liam. They were 10 days out from the election. For maximum benefit, to take advantage of the public’s sympathy, Darla needed to be dead by that Monday. That way, the headlines would greet the voters as they went to the polls on Tuesday.

“Bet William won’t even share in the profits he’ll get from that bitch’s death. I’ll send his stupid, fucking book into a second and third printing, but will I get any thanks? No. They’ll probably make a movie with some vapid little actress playing Buffy, but I won’t get an award for setting up this whole tragic love story!” Dru slammed her hand down on the table, rattling the cup of coffee, spilling some of it on the white tablecloth.

Dru took a deep breath, trying to calm down. She couldn’t let that insipid woman get under her skin. She would be less dead and buried in 11 days, no longer a threat or a hindrance to what Druscilla wanted. She smiled at that thought.

Buffy and Darla weren’t the only pains in her life. There was Ethan. Good, old, Uncle Ethan. If it hadn’t been for his stupidity, there wouldn’t have been a baby to cause Angel to doubt her. But that wasn’t his only crime. Ethan knew all her skeletons. He had the means to destroy her or so he thought. People were more forgiving of a teenage slut than an old, perverse, married man. Luckily for her, Ethan had been a single-minded lover. Pants down, cock at the ready. He never paid attention to his surroundings or the flashing light from the camera. She had quite the collection of pictures.

“One potato. Two potato. Three potato. Four. Five potato. Six potato. Seven potato. More.” She could see the headlines.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What did the hell spawn want?” Ethan barked. He didn’t like the look on Parker’s face. The same glazed _expression was repeatedly reflected back at Ethan after one of his romps with Dru.

“She wants to meet. Probably getting antsy. She told me she wanted everything done by the election, and that’s a week away.”

“Don’t let Dru fool you or seduce you.” Ethan told him pointedly. He knew most of Druscilla’s tricks, and she wouldn’t be above fucking someone to get what she wanted. Hell, that was second nature to her, like breathing.

Parker snorted. “Unlike certain people, I don’t find Druscilla Cavanaugh attractive. She’s a means to an end. If it was necessary for me to fuck her, I would, but for pleasure? Nope.”

Ethan was skeptical, but for now, he had to believe him.

“I want you to wear a wire.”

“No way.” Parker stood up, handing automatically reaching for his pack of cigarettes. One look at Ethan’s scowling face, though, stilled his hand. “Look, I can sense people, and Druscilla Cavanaugh is no fool. Crazy? Yes. Obsessive and jealous? Most definitely. Stupid? No way. Ten will get you twenty, she’ll sniff out a trap. I’ll be screwed, then you’ll be screwed.” The last comment wasn’t voiced with any malice, but the threat was obvious.

Ethan glowered, but wisely kept his mouth closed. “Fine. You figure out the logistics. But this plan doesn’t work without evidence. No evidence. No bargaining material. No deal. Just remember that when you’re having tea with Dru.”

Parker popped an unlit cigarette between his teeth, and grinned. “You worry too much. I can handle Druscilla. You just handle your part of the plan.”

It was Ethan’s turn to roll his eyes in exasperation. The look he bestowed on Parker reflected his impatience and frustration with the process of trapping Dru. “And what would I tell the DA exactly? Oh, you remember Parker, he’s the Russian enforcer you tried to put away for 20 years? Well, he wants to make a deal so you’ll go easy on him. Yeah, well..no I don’t have evidence as yet, he’s afraid of pissing off his mark!”

If I had a gun, you’d be dead. Parker mused. He shook off his homicidal thoughts. No point in getting pissy with his lawyer.

“Okay, I’ll wire my clothes. Get you something interesting to take to the cops. But I can’t promise you anything.”

“Just do your best.” Ethan said dismissively. “You’d better go. Wouldn’t want to leave Mrs. Cavanaugh waiting.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Besides being a terrific lawyer, and a valued friend, Wesley Wyndham-Price was quite possibly the easiest person to embarrass. A gesture, an object, a word could turn the normally unflappable barrister into a blushing virgin in mere seconds. So, seeing as Spike was his best friend and favorite tormenter, he decided a trip to pick up some lollipops would be the perfect thing to get Wes to open up about tonight’s adventure. Cause really, what else could you call a night out at a burlesque show?

Wesley smiled and waved Spike into a chair as he concluded his conversation. “Miranda, thank you for getting on that right away. If there’s anything I can do for you in the future, please do not hesitate to call.”

Spike’s mouth twitched as he took in the goofy grin on Wesley’s face. “If I didn’t know you and didn’t know Lee would castrate you, I’d think you were flirting shamelessly.”

“William, I know flirting is like breathing to you, but in answer to your obvious nosiness, that was a travel agent.”

“Going somewhere?”

Wes shrugged, bowing his head in an obvious evasive move. “Yes, I am. We are. Lee and I.”

Hmm…interesting.

“So?”

Wes rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the rather large, blonde gnat at his ear.

“So?”

The urge to swat said blonde gnat was growing stronger with each passing second.

“So?”

Wes finally looked up. “As a celebrated author, I would have thought your vocabulary consisted of more than a 2-syllable word.”

“And as highly sought after attorney, I would have assumed you’d made big plans for Lee’s 30th. Like an engagement or something like that.”

“Does Buffy know how nosy you are?”

At the shit-eating grin on Spike’s face, Wes blanched. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Spike shrugged and popped a lollipop in his mouth.

Again, Wes’ eyes bulged and his cheeks reddened.

“Umm…if you guys could be at the house at 6 prompt, we can leave by 7.”

Spike nodded, shoving the lollipop to the side of his mouth. “Besides your obvious discomfort with the lollipop, why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not nervous about anything. See?” Wes said, holding his palm out for inspection.

Spike smirked, but said nothing. He just rolled the lollipop on his tongue.

“Do you have to do that? Isn’t it bad enough I’ve been traumatized for the last 6 years?” Wes groused,

“That is not my fault. I merely explained what you could do to improve your skills.” Spike wiggled his tongue.

“And Lee thanks you.” Wes whispered softly.

“What was that?” Spike sardonic grin widened.

“Nothing. As I was saying, please be at the house no later than 6. We have to be leaving by 7. And dress semi-formal.” Was that the word for it? Lee was much better at describing fashion. The best he could do was pants, vest, tie, and shirt. And usually, Lee put those things together for him the night before.

“Semi-formal for a strip club?”

Wesley was offended for the club. “Charlie Brown’s is a respected, burlesque club. It’s not one of those seedy little clubs you see on TV.”

“And how what would you know about strip clubs? You wouldn’t go. Your nose was usually stuck in a book.”

“And yours was stuck up Angel’s ass.” Wes snarked back.

Spike nodded reluctantly. “Most likely. But in my defense, I was young and naïve and knew nothing of the female anatomy. He blindsided me with loose women.”

Wes snorted and smirked at Spike’s ridiculous statement. “You weren’t a virgin, Spike. Naïve, yes, virginal, saintly? I don’t think so. But in your defense, I thought Angel was your friend. I never saw him screwing Dru behind your back.”

“Apparently, I didn’t either. Not until Dru was ready for me to see.” Spike bowed his head.

“Hey! You evaded my question.” Spike accused, pointing his lollipop at Wes. “You’re planning something.”

“Dinner and a show with my love and our friends.” Wes grinned.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Spike asked in disbelief. They were best friends. They talked about everything. Well, everything on the checklist of okay subjects for men to talk about.

“There’s nothing to tell.” Wes reiterated.

“I thought we were friends. I told you about my cunnilingus tricks. I bought the lollipops and gave you bottle water. I’m responsible for your stellar success with Heller on the first date. Come on, tell me what’s up?”

“Swear on your guitar pick you won’t whisper a word of this outside these walls.” Wes demanded.

Damn, but this must be the mother of all secrets. “Okay…On my guitar pick, my lips are sealed.”

Wes took a deep breath. “I want you to be my best man at my wedding.”

Spike was momentarily confused. Did he miss the engagement? “When did you ask her? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you please lower your voice? I haven’t asked her, you dimwit. I’m going to tonight before dinner.”

“Oh… Of course, I’ll be your best man. Probably kick your ass if you asked someone else.” Spike joked. “Way to put pressure on a man. I’m the only one left.”

Wesley’s grin widened. “Sure, Spike, like spending the rest of your life with Buffy isn’t a foregone conclusion.”

“I always said you were a smart man.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t right to be this giddy. Faith admonished herself as she rewound the tape of her last session with the Cavanaughs. There were real problems in that relationship. Problems which could manifest in actual physical harm to either Liam or Druscilla Cavanaugh. Try as she might, Faith couldn’t stop grinning. She had good reason. A very good reason and his name was Lorne.

After leaving the Cavanaughs, Faith called Lorne on the pretense of needing his opinion on a business opportunity. He’d seen through the thinly veiled excuse, though, and invited her to a small bistro down from his office.

Faith giggled at the memory of the silence that greeted her. Lorne never said what had happened, whether they’d been disconnected or he passed out from sheer surprise. It didn’t really matter. The anticipation that they would end up naked, horizontal, and cumming hard was enough to distract her until it was time to meet at the restaurant.

The bistro was a delight, the food exquisite, and the company… devastatingly handsome and witty. It had taken everything, and she meant everything to stop the goodbye kiss from turning into something else. As it was, they stayed in each other’s arms for what seemed like hours. Kissing, gasping, stroking places that had been left untouched for far too long. The kiss had ended with her head on Lorne’s chest, and his chin in her hair.

When was the last time she felt this sexual about a man? Richard didn’t make her feel sexual so much as desired. With Richard, she was the young protégé and he was the master. All the power, all the control was in his hands, and when she’d finally realized what the nature of their relationship really was, she broke it off. In some sense, she was still that young girl who fell in love with her professor. Except she wasn’t. She was older, definitely wiser, and most assuredly falling for Lorne. Yet, she felt Richard hanging over them, like a shadow over a flower.

“Thanks a whole helluva lot, Mr. And Mrs. Cavanaugh. Nothing like a slice of martial incapability to make you doubt your own instincts.” She groused.

“What instincts would that be?” Richard drawled from the open doorway.

For the briefest moment, Faith was troubled. How long had Richard been standing there, watching her? It made her skin crawl before sensibility returned and she remembered Richard was her friend.

“Oh, you know…our ability to see a solution to a problem. I thought I knew what could fix my patients’ marriage, but I was wrong. It can’t be saved.”

“Unfortunately, that’s the only outcome of some cases. But don’t let it force you to doubt yourself. You’re a wonderful psychiatrist.” Richard came around the desk, leaning against the table.

“Thanks, Richard.”

“Anytime, Faith.” Richard scooted closer, disguising the move by pretending to pull his jacket out from under his butt. “How was your session with the Cavanaughs?”

Faith leaned back, looking up at Richard guardedly. “Is that why you stopped by, professional curiosity?” She didn’t mean for her remarks to come out so harshly, but Richard’s sudden appearance had stopped the Lorne-train of happy thoughts.

“You caught me.” Richard chuckled. “Professional curiosity and … a desire to make sure you were alright. You sounded a concerned, a little worried when we last spoke. I…I care Faith. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt by…” He wanted to come clean. Tell her to be very, very careful where Druscilla Cavanaugh was concerned. But that knowledge gave him an edge where Faith was concerned. It gave him a foothold into her life, her world. As long as he held some insight into Dru’s character, he could be of assistance to Faith. Then it would only be a matter of time until he wore her down.

“I’m fine Richard.” Better than fine, she wanted to shout. “There are times when I have to realize I’m not Superwoman. I can’t solve all the world’s ills.”

Richard traced an invisible S on Faith’s chest. “You look invincible to me.”

“Excuse me, Dr. Morgan, but you’ve got a delivery.”

Faith breathed a silent sigh of relief for the interruption. The look in Richard’s eyes was disturbing. He looked as if he would devour her, given half the chance.

“It’s an edible arrangement.” (?) announced. “Here’s the card.” She waited, expectantly for Faith’s reaction to the card.

Faith grinned happily. “Thanks, Rona. If you can run out to the store to get some Ziploc bowls, some plates and forks, we’ll have some for lunch.”

“Beautiful arrangement. Is it from one of your clients?”

“No,” Faith responded dreamily. “They are from a…guy I’m seeing.” Faith stared at a melon ball, letting her words hang in the silence of the office.

“Oh.” It was the only thing Richard could say at the moment. “There were other words he wanted to hurl at her. Words that weren’t as sweet as the fruit on her desk. Words that would invariably hurt and anger her. Words that would make him feel better. “He must know you don’t really take good care of yourself.”

“He’s learning.” She said wistfully. She desperately wanted Richard to leave so she could call Lorne and thank him. And suggest ways in which the fruit could help with the sex portion of that morale, the Fredericks of Hollywood model in her head reminded her.

“This old man is going to push off. I can tell your mind is on your young man, and not your old one.” Richard quipped with a hint of bitterness. Faith tried to see his face, to match his _expression with the tone of the words, but he kept it hidden from her view.

“Richard…” Stop! Her mind commanded. It’s over. You owe him nothing. You owe yourself everything. “Thanks for stopping by.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Great shots.” Perry White praised as he looked up from his inspection of Buffy’s proofs. He blinked his eyes to adjust them to the sudden glare of the room. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“Oh, really.” Buffy laughed. “I didn’t think Florence was the sharing type.”

Perry laughed with her. “She isn’t. If she caught me cheating, she’d take my mistress and beat me with her. No, this is purely about business. Sidney is out with a broken foot, so I need someone to replace him on the Cavanaugh campaign.”

“The Cavanaughs…” As in Dru, the bitchwhore who took Spike’s heart and minced it like it was pate, and Angel, former friend who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and away from Dru. Well, that put a damper on her excitement. There was absolutely no way she was going to shackle herself to them. If she wanted to take up masochism, she’d called Riley’s new woman and ask her for tips.

“What’s the frown for? Don’t tell me you’re booked. This is big, Buffy.” Perry exclaimed perplexed.

“I’m not booked. It’s the Cavanaughs. We have history.” She said cryptically.

“History.” Perry’s ears perked up with the instincts of a reporter to a good story. “What kind of history?”

“The kind that is none of your concern.” Buffy quipped, softening her words by blowing a kiss at him.

“Okay, okay. I get it, but Buffy, you know this is a good deal. Your pics could get picked up nationally. More money, more exposure.”

Perry may have been begging, but he was also getting in some good points. And…Dru wouldn’t like it. Her mind pointed out. And making Druscilla Cavanaugh uncomfortablw was a definite bonus.

Buffy grinned. “When would you like for me to start?”

Perry grabbed Buffy’s arms, pulling her into his chest hard. “Thank you, my beautiful girl. Thank you. I’ll get their schedule and the press badge. I really appreciate this.”

“You’d better. I’m putting my sanity on the line here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lorne leaned back in his chair, the proverbial cat that ate the canary. By now, Faith had his gift and he had the image of her lips wet with fruit juices. That was enough to render him useless for the rest of the afternoon.

“I didn’t realize we were paying you to daydream.”

And I didn’t realize being a slut could be so profitable. Lorne wanted to shout, but he didn’t. He merely sat up, and gave Kim his full attention. “How can I help you?” He wasn’t going to defend himself to her. He was guilty, but she hadn’t seem to mind when they were rolling in the sheets.

“What is going on with you and Faith Morgan?”

Lorne steeled his face. “What do you mean? She’s our client.” Did someone see them in the parking lot last night?

“We got a complaint about your behavior towards Dr. Morgan. Please, oh please tell me you finally got caught with your hand in the cookie jar.”

Lorne stood up, bracing his arms on his desk. “Sorry to disappoint you, Toots, but I have kept my hands out of the cookie jar as far as Dr. Morgan is concerned, but I have been in someone’s cookie jar. Happy to say, it wasn’t yours.”

Kim narrowed, and Lorne felt the temperature drop a few degrees.

“As if I would allow you anywhere near mine.” She huffed. Look, I don’t know who you’ve managed to piss off, but Damien knows about the call. We’ll be watching you.” She made a dramatic exit, turning on her Jimmy Choo heels and storming out the door.

Lorne dismissed her as stench of her cheap perfume tickled his nose. Who the fuck would care if he was diddling Faith? Other than him and Faith, and obviously Kim, but who else? Kim was lingering outside of his office, probably waiting for him to either call Faith or his mystery lover. He wasn’t giving her the satisfaction of thinking he was concerned about her threats. There were other agencies out there willing to pay him what he was worth. No, his main concern was Faith.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was something fundamentally sexy about a woman walking around in her lingerie. It was like a present, partially unwrapped. You have an idea of what’s underneath the paper. You can see it, touch it, but the present as a whole isn’t bared to your eyes.

“I can’t believe I agreed to spend my time following Dru and Angel around. I’m a masochist. Tell me I’m a masochist.”

Spike grinned. “You’re not a masochist. I would have discovered that particular trait by now.” He winked at her.

Buffy affected a pose, flipping her hair over her shoulder and giving Spike a smoldering glance. “You’re absolutely no help. So what do you think? Worst idea ever or not a big deal?”

Spike sat up, pulling his legs under his butt. “If I thought Dru would try something, I would say forget this. They’ll be other jobs. But I doubt Dru would sabotage Angel’s chances. She wants that crown as much as she’s wanted anything in her life. She’ll behave.” Spike reached out, his fingers barely grazing the top of Buffy’s camisole.

“The question is… Can you behave yourself?” Buffy leaned forward, allowing Spike’s finger to dip into the cleft of her bosom.

“Hmm…” Spike shrugged. “I’m not sure if I can. You’re looking very nice today.”

Buffy tilted her head to the side, running her hands down her stomach to the hem of her cami. “Thank you. Don’t you think my new burgundy skirt and boots will look better.”

Spike shook his head, puckering his lips as he did. “No way, Pet. This outfit or lack of an outfit suits you much better.” His finger hooked the top of the slip, straining the straps holding it up.

“I think Heller might have something to say about me showing up naked. Don’t you think?” She posed the question, her eyes never straying from his face. His blue eyes were eclipsed by the lust-filled irises.

“She wouldn’t be the only one. I’m not a sharing man, Buffy. Your body is mine to look at.” His hand slipped between her legs, causing her to gasp at the contact. “Mine to touch.”

Buffy sucked her lip between her teeth, hissing at the glancing swipes of Spike’s fingertips. He was teasing her, surprising her with touches so soft, she felt the tingles all in her throat.

“Stop that.”

“No.”

“You’re going to make us late.” Her statement was contradicted by her actions. Body trembling, aching for his touch, straining to guide his finger closer to her quim.

A quick glance over Buffy’s shoulder showed him she was right. No time to ravish her properly. This had to be a quickie. Or maybe a solo.

“I don’t know, Pet.” He replied casually, all the while his fingers flitting across the stain front of her thong. “We’re supposed to be at Wes’ by 6. It’s 4:40 now. It’ll only take us, probably 15 minutes to get there.”

Huh? What? He was speaking. Buffy’s train of thought had stopped at the depot as the nerve endings in her crotch honed in on Spike’s touch.

“Okay.” She drew the word out in a rush of air, her eyes shuttering close. For all she knew, she’d just agreed to pose nude for Playboy. Hell, if Spike was the photographer, he’d get some very interesting pics.

Spike’s hand slipped around Buffy’s waist, not only to pull her closer, but to hold her up. He planned on washing every bit of tension out of Buffy’s body, putting her body on notice that he planned on taking payment in kind later.

Spike rose and pressed his lips to Buffy’s, running his tongue along the swell of her bottom lip before tilting his head to increase the pressure. Buffy’s moan was swallowed, trapped within the warmth of Spike’s lips. Her hands clutched at his arms, squeezing and releasing as she made her way up to his shoulder. Her arms wrapped around his neck, giving herself over completely to Spike’s ministrations.

Spike flinched as Buffy’s hardened nipples pressed into his chest, rubbing against his. His fingers slid inside her panties, plucking at the wisps of short curls he countered.

“You seem a bit tense, Buffy. Is there anything I can do to get you to relax?” Spike teased, placing tiny love bites along her chin.

“Fuck me.” She gasped. Her hips arched forward, trying to claim his touch.

“Now, now… let’s not be impatient.” His cock was hard as a rock, straining beneath the cotton of his sweats. There was no way, Buffy couldn’t feel it pressing into her belly, maybe even the underside of her delectable breasts.

Buffy wasn’t as oblivious to her surroundings as Spike would have her. How could she be with 8 thick inches of hot throbbing Spikey pressing into her stomach? Her hands drifted down off from his shoulders to cup his cock through his pants.

Buffy grinned, opening her eyes to gaze at him. “Impatient? That wasn’t impatience,” she informed him. “That was my answer to your ques..” she shrieked. “Question.”

Spike nodded, his fingers stroking in and out of hot, little snatch. “Thanks, I wasn’t sure if that was your final answer.”

Buffy panted and rolled her hips, grasping, trying to force his fingers deeper. But he was a fucking tease and he kept his strokes shallow, hitting right below her sweet spot. “Spike…Spike..Oh, god..Please.. Just a little bit more.”

He wondered, as she humped his fingers, her head pressed firmly against his head, if she knew how fucking unbelievable she looked. Her hair shielded her face like a veil, tickling the skin around his shoulders.

He felt the tremors on his fingertips, knew it wouldn’t be much longer till she came. He leaned back, his head damp with their mingled body heat. Buffy’s eyes were glazed and unfocused. It was time. He couldn’t hold on much longer himself, and he didn’t want to wipe Buffy out before tonight’s festivities. He curled his fingers inside her, tapping the hidden bundle of nerves within her cunt and smiled as Buffy keened loudly. She collapsed boneless, ungracefully on him, and he eased her down to the bed. He leaned over her, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Umm…so good. You’re too good to me.” She said, squeezing her legs together as a residual wave hit her. “But what about you?” She asked, noting with no small amount of glee the moistened head of his cock peeking over the edge of his pants.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, this was for you.”

“But?” She started only to be silenced by his lips on her.

“But nothing. I get off when you get off.”

Buffy hand was shaking as she lifted it to play with his hair.

“I love you, and that isn’t just the hormones talking.” She said, smiling sheepishly.

“I love you, and it’s all about hormones for me. Mine have been raging since I first laid eyes on you. Haven’t stopped in 3 and half years.”

Buffy blushed, grinning at the compliment. “No wonder you’re a best selling author. You sure do have a way with words…and your fingers.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did he really think he could get one over on me? Dru mused as she watched Parker alight from his car. No way were Parker and Ethan smarter, craftier, or devious enough to outwit her. Dru could admit to being desperate when she sought Ethan’s help. Desperate enough that she allowed certain obvious clues to slip past her radar. But Dr. Morgan had helped to remove the barrier around her inner voice, the one that cautioned her about trusting any man. A call to her father’s friend had confirmed Parker and Ethan’s long history, and the fact, Parker was up on some serious charges. Chargers that carried a death penalty. The DA was taking his time in bringing the case to trial. They wanted to make sure the charges stuck. Ethan was a damn good attorney. Dru was sure he’d offered the DA a tiny morsel to keep them from throwing the book at his client. Undoubtedly, she was the get-out-of-jail free card for Parker.

Well, she would just have to offer him a better deal.

Dru opened the door as Parker was reaching for the buzzer. “Prompt as usual, Mr. Parker. I appreciate that.”

Dru turned away, leaving the door and Parker behind.

What was her game? He wondered as he closed the door, he engaged the deadbolt quietly, not wanting to alert Druscilla.

In front of him, though, Dru was smiling. Typical.

Dru had decided the best place to have this meeting was her sitting room. It offered them privacy, and Liam would not be so inclined to seek her out should he return early.

“Would you like a drink?” She offered her companion.

Say no. Say no. You need to keep your wits around this woman. She might take it upon herself to slip you something.

“Sure… Bourbon and coke.”

Dru held the glass in her hand. “No coke, but I can do seltzer or tonic.”

“Straight is fine with me. Are you going to be joining me?” He asked her, keeping his eye on her preparations. If the liquor was spiked, then she would get a dose of it too.

“You don’t trust me.” Dru stated with a smile. If she was offended, he couldn’t tell.

“I don’t trust anybody.”

“I’ll have a drink with you. We can share this one.” She brought the glass to her lips and took a long, drink. Her eyes were steady on Parker’s as she handed it to him.

“Swallow.”

“On occasion.” She responded teasingly. The smile she was able to coax out of him served to heighten the sexual tension. He wasn’t Liam, but in a crunch, she’d do him. There would be time for that later, though. “I suppose we should get down to business. You won’t have a great deal of time to get things together, and I apologize for that, but it couldn’t be helped.”

Parker sipped his drink slowly, intrigued in spite of himself. For the first time, Parker could see what drew Rayne to her like a moth to a flame. Rayne had risked everything to get between her thighs. Fuck, he would risk jail to get between her thighs if he were honest, which he wasn’t. He was a criminal.

“What would you like for me to do, Mrs. Cavanaugh?”

“I want you to frame Ethan Rayne for the murders of Darla Hanson and Buffy Summers.”

Dru slapped Parker’s back as he choked. She giggled. She couldn’t help. Being the baddie was too much fun, and why shouldn’t she enjoy herself, Liam, Darla, William, Buffy, they were all having a good time at her expense.

Parker shooed Dru away, coughing and gasping for air. When he was certain he could inhale with another coughing fit, he glared at Druscilla.

“Are you fucking insane?”

Dru shrugged. “It’s a matter of opinion. Why do you ask?”

Parker laughed, even though it killed his throat to do so.

“People underestimate me. Take Ethan Rayne, for example.”

Parker stiffened, his body immediately on alert for any threatening moves by Dru.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out? That I wouldn’t have you checked out.” She said calmly, pacing in front of her desk. “I know you’re in deep shit, Parker. I also know it’s better to have me in your back pocket than Ethan. I can be a much better friend.” She said, stopping in front of him.

Well, ain’t this great. Parker groused.

“How much better?” He queried.

Dru didn’t answer. She merely placed her Jimmy Choo-clad foot between Parker’s legs. “Better.”

“I’m listening.”

“I propose a joint venture between the two of us. You help me out with my little problem, and I’ll provide you with the means to make your problems fly away.” She floated her hand in the air to illustrate her point.

“And all I have to do is murder these women and frame Rayne.” The sarcasm was thick. “How’s that going to help me again?”

“You’re going to provide the police with the evidence to put a murderer away.” Dru sat next to him, taking his hands in hers.

Was he really considering her plan? Ethan may have been a pain in the ass, but he had gotten him out of too many jams to abandon Rayne now. “What’s going to prevent Rayne from blowing the whistle on us? He knows you hired me to follow Darla Hanson.”

Lean fingers, strong hands. She closed her eyes and saw those hands around Darla’s neck, squeezing and squeezing until either her neck snapped or her windpipe collapsed.

“Dead men tell no tales. Didn’t you know?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lee prided herself on being what her grandmother would call “a professional young lady”. She had a terrific job, a wonderful lover, friends. She had it all. Today was just another, perfect day in her life. Wes’ birthday present this morning had started the day off on the right foot. Sex was the gift that kept on giving, and throughout her shortened work day, Lee had revisited their morning shower romp repeatedly.

“I never would have pegged you as the starry-eyed type.” Cordy told her. “Jeez, you’re the only person I know who’s actually happy about turning 30. I’m dreading it like the plague.”

Lee shrugged. “Why? If you go with Ally McBeal, then we’re all ahead of the game. We have men who love us and successful career. Ladies, we are no longer in the game.”

Buffy only heard part of the conversation. Her attention was distracted by the intense conversation going on between Spike and Wes. There was definitely something going on, but Spike wasn’t sharing. What did Lee just say?

“I was in a game?” Buffy joked. “What position did I play?”

Heller grinned, sliding a glance in Spike’s direction. Cordy followed suit, laughing as she picked up on what was amusing Lee. She winked at her co-conspirator.

“Actually, you’re the catcher to Spike’s…” Cordy smirked. She laughed out loud as the color rose on Buffy’s cheeks.

“Cordy!” Buffy gasped. “Heller!”

The bottle slipped from Wes’ hands, only to be caught by Lindsey. He set it down on the counter.

“Happens to me all the time. I usually have olive oil on my fingers, though. What’s got you so nervous?”

“Me, nervous. I have nerves of steel. My hand was wet.”

“Nerves of steel?” Spike joked. “Uh huh.”

“The bottle was wet. It slipped.” Wes repeated. “Shall we go see what our ladies have gotten into.” Wes pointedly ignored Spike’s knowing smirk as he moved past him.

Spike shook his head. If Wes didn’t ask Heller soon, Spike was afraid he’d pass out.

Heller was still laughing as Wes eased his arm around her waist. His touch was light, but managed to make her knees quiver nevertheless.

“What are you ladies up to over here, and can we join in?”

“Never you mind.” Lee reached up, cupping Wes’ cheek. The stubble on his chin tickled her palm. Looking into his blue eyes, she lost herself in the love she saw there.

“Wes, you’ve been a terrible host. No beverages?” Wes obviously needed a push in the right direction, and it was up to Spike to give it to him. Besides, Wes’ stalling was making him jumpy. He’d spill the beans if Wes didn’t get to it.

Wes glared at Spike, irritated and touched that his friend wanted to help him out.

“Spike, if you want something to drink, you know where the bar is. This is my birthday. You should be waiting on me.” Heller sassed.

Spike bowed, genuflecting as he backed over to the bar. “Your wish is my command, m’lady.”

Wes squeezed Lee’s hand. “That’s my job, Lee.”

Lee? Wes never calls me Lee, unless we’re alone.

“I’d better help him. I’ll let you entertain the troops.” Buffy told them, scampering off to help Spike, and also get him to fess up.

“What’s going on?” Buffy whispered.

Spike held the bottle between his chest and bicep, twisting the cork. He bent and gave Buffy a quick kiss. “I’m opening a bottle of champagne. That’s about it.”

Buffy stuck her tongue out, caressing her lips with her tongue. Spike’s gaze was riveted to the display, but he shook it off. Nope. It wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t going to entice him into revealing Wes’ secret. It, hopefully, wouldn’t be much longer. All he had to do was keep Vixen Detective Buffy off the case.

“Hmm… That’s all that’s going on, huh? Sure. Okay, I won’t press.” Buffy promised, dragging her hand across Spike’s ass. “Much.”

Spike groaned. “Buffy…” It came out in a groan. “Hold these.” He said, handing her some glasses. “They are waiting on us.”

Wes joined them at the bar, his hands shaking with nervousness. “I do believe I’m going to faint.”

Spike elbowed Wes, tilting his head in Buffy’s direction.

“Umm… are you having trouble with that bottle.”

The pop of the champagne answered Wes’ question. It also served to end Buffy’s semi interrogation of Spike. “I’ll just leave you two to your secret.” She winked.

Wes sagged against the bar.

Spike poured the final 3 glasses and handed one to Wes. “Buck up, man. You love her. She loves you. She’ll say yes.”

Wes took a deep breath, blowing out a rush of air. “This is the most important thing I will do. I can’t botch this.”

Spike peered at Wes. The sweat was beading on Wes’ forehead. Spike handed him a napkin. “Just do what comes naturally, Wes. Present your case.”

Wes chuckled. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re my friend, Spike.”

“Me too.” Spike grabbed his and Buffy’s glasses. “Are you ready?”

Wes nodded. “As ready as I’m going to be.”

“Wes gave me this fresco. We saw it when we were in Napa last summer. He called the winery and asked to buy it. They happily agreed.” Lee said, smiling proudly at the painting. “All I’ve got to do now is find a place for it.”

“I’d like to make a toast.” Wes interrupted.

Spike moved to stand behind Buffy, and she leaned into his chest, feeling pinpricks of heat shoot down her back.

“30 years ago, Lee was brought into this world. I’ve been blessed to share the last 6 years with her. Everyday she’s been in my life has been a revelation. She is the most amazing woman I know. She makes me happier than I’ve ever been. She’s my best friend.”

Heller wiped at the tears that formed in her eyes.

“I’d like to raise a toast to my wife, if she’ll have me.”

-------------------

TBC....

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