Title: Long Weekend
Chapter: 1 of ?
Issue: Draft 2.6
Author: RaspberryHat
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon.
Rating: NC-17 (Explicit sex and language and W/T sweetness)
Feedback: Yes please, but be gentle…
Email: Email:
raspberryhat@willowandtara.infoSpoilers: Nope.
Distribution: Please ask me first.
Pairing: Willow and Tara.
Summary: An AU story of how Willow meets Tara.
Timeframe: Both girls are 29.
Background: Completely Alternate Universe. The setting is San Francisco. Willow has a high powered job with a software company. Buffy is still Willow’s best friend. No other scoobies feature. This is all about Willow and Tara.
Note1: This is a most alternative universe where the characters sometimes depart significantly from canon.
Note2: Thanks as always go to Verdant for having the patience of a saint. Endless tips on writing, research and story discussions got this humble offering where it is.
***
Willow loved the colours of twilight.
This warm summer evening, the sky was beautiful, painted in hues of pink, fading to deeper night time blue.
Willow’s eyes moved thoughtfully earthwards. Her gaze settled on the sign above the club’s discreet, narrow entrance. ‘Eden’ fluoresced in brilliant white.
She hesitated, watching the rest of the group disappear into the club. After a long moment, she decided to give in to her curiosity and followed the group inside.
The low ceilinged lobby was plush and softly lit. The lobby lead out into a richly decorated lounge. Again, soft lights, conveyed a feeling of intimacy.
Willow looked around, taking in her surroundings.
Small tables dotted the room. Neat white tablecloths, small glow lamps in the centre. Most of the tables were occupied. Faces were cast in shadows and hard to discern.
A table was found. Willow sat back in one of the plush chairs.
A scantily dressed waitress appeared and more drinks were ordered.
Soft jazz played, the murmur of conversation and occasional relaxed laughter could be heard.
*
Willow wasn’t quite sure how she’d ended up exactly here.
Well she thought, it had started first thing this morning, when her exuberant project manager had come over to her desk to make sure she was coming to the end of project party. It was just going to be the usual male oriented drunken brawl! Much as she liked her work colleagues, she didn’t share their predilection for excessive alcohol consumption in times of celebration.
Actually, thought Willow, it had started when the team had managed to deliver the software a week early. ‘Thanks in no small part to my wizardry.’ She thought. The irony was not lost on her.
The man didn’t even have the decency to give her the morning to work out her excuses for why she couldn’t come!
The party had been announced Thursday afternoon. She’d planned to compose an eloquent e-mail explaining why, ‘much to her regret’ she couldn’t be in the office on Friday afternoon. That way no one could come up to her desk and pester and cajole her into coming.
‘Lame idea.’ she thought gloomily.
By midday Friday, Willow was more than aware that the only thing that stood between her and a wonderful long weekend was this party.
She had it all planned out. It involved being in her neat apartment, catching up on some important pulp fiction consumption and possibly a little chocolate over-consumption with her best friend Buffy Summers. That would be the best friend she’d been promising to spend some quality time with just as soon as this ‘damn project was finished’.
Well, she would just have to go along with the guys and have a miserable time. She figured she could probably get away after dinner and before any after hours drinking or clubbing.
The evening hadn’t quite turned out the way Willow had expected though. Dinner in a smart Italian restaurant followed by several rounds of exotic cocktails. The meal had been excellent and the cocktails surprisingly pleasant.
As the group were making ready to leave the restaurant, the boss had announced that they were all going to a club he knew. Willow had felt momentary doubt. But she didn’t feel tired. The food and drink were having the desired effect. She felt relaxed and more than a little curious. Thoughts of running off early evaporated. She was going to have a good time.
*
The waitress returned with drinks. Willow didn’t know what the drink she’d been given was but it tasted good. The tall cold glass was filled with crushed ice, what looked like mint leaves and a clear liquid.
At one side of the room, a long highly polished bar, back-lit by a long white wall light. A single barman stood in attendance. Occasionally a waitress would approach, pick up a tray of drinks to quickly freight away to a customer. From the other side of the lounge, a long narrow stage protruded from the curtained wall.
Willow noticed most people had their chairs angled toward the stage. From their table they were going to have a good view of whatever was coming on. The stage was dark. Above, she could see a complicated lighting rig. At the front end of the stage, a highly polished brass pole stretched from stage floor to ceiling.
As Willow looked, the realisation dawned. ‘This is a…’ She swallowed, feeling a little nervous, but also more than a little curious. As her emotions begun working out how to feel about her present situation, the music changed. The jazz track faded and a louder, harder rhythm unfolded. A languorous bass drum set time. Guitars and bass formed a steady, slightly blue melody. As the music swelled and a mournful lyric began, the house lights dimmed.
Soft dancing light attracted Willow’s eyes to toward the stage. She saw a gently coruscating pattern of fiery colour dance around the kneeling form of an elegant blonde woman. The woman knelt at the far end of the stage with her glittered back to the audience, hands clasped inwards, head down.
Willow stared in fascination.
The woman was bathed in a rich well of colour, oranges and flaming reds. Her movements in perfect time with the music, she rose slowly from the flames. As she rose, her slender arms extended and she turned.
Just for a moment Willow saw a goddess.
Then the stage light’s activated. A murmur of appreciation went up from the audience.
Willow looked around, blinking rapidly and uncertainly. ‘What just happened?’ she wondered to herself.
The woman let the music lead her slowly to the fore of the long stage. She circled the pole, head down, painted eyelids half closed. As the music flowed, and rose, she threw back her head. Dark rooted blonde locks flowed out over her shoulders.
Willow stared at the woman’s beautiful face. Her movements were fluid, her eyes far away as she danced with the music.
Tiny points of light refracted and sparkled from the woman’s jewel studded bra and low rise panties. Her midriff, arms and back were covered in delicate golden glitter patterns.
Willow could not look away, she drank in every detail. She saw the woman had a delicate silver belly button piercing, Willow gasped slightly as she recognised its shape as a tiny pentacle.
Without thinking, her hand wondered to her wrist and she rotated her silver bracelet until the tarnished Moroccan coin set in it’s perimeter faced upwards. Her index finger casually traced the pentagram on the coin’s surface.
She’d wanted to carry a discrete symbol of her Wiccan faith. When she’d seen it in the shop window, the innocent looking coin had seemed perfect. She’d thought maybe she could carry it in her purse, but had worried about loosing it or accidentally trying to pay for something with it. Then she’d had the inspiration to set the coin into her bracelet. She’d found a local silver smith who’d adapted the bracelet precisely how she’d wanted it.
Willow’s eyes roamed the perimeter of the blonde woman’s form. As if gaining focus, Willow suddenly realised what she was seeing. It was much fainter now, and the stage lights made it harder to discern, but there was no mistaking it. A thin film of flaming colour stood out from the woman’s form. The colours moved gently, matching every contour of her body, strands of coloured energy; reds, oranges and Willow thought she could see a trace of silver. The strands of energy interlaced and dancing, swirling, always moving.
Willow smiled serenely as she realised she was seeing the woman’s aura. It made sense now. When the woman had made her entrance it had been dark. She’d assumed her crouching position and the stage light would draw her upwards. Only Willow had seen something other, something wonderful.
Willow wondered at herself. She’d never seen an aura before. She’d studied the arts, but never attempted to see or read anyone’s aura. Yet she knew what she’d seen. Willow remembered the book she’d read. Reds and oranges would mean passion and creativity. She tried to remember what silver represented. Something to do with creativity.
The woman’s crystal blue eyes seemed to penetrate Willow’s thoughts. An enigmatic half smile played at the corner of her mouth.
Willow felt sure the woman was staring right at her. Aware of herself, she looked down and then back up again.
As Willow looked up, something caught her eye. She was holding her glass with her right hand. Where her fingers encircled the glass, she saw a yellowish glow. She blinked and looked again. The ice reflected points of yellow light from the area where her hand surrounded the glass. Was she seeing a hint of her own aura? And was that what the woman on the stage was smiling at?
Willow looked up quickly, the woman’s smile lingered on Willow for a moment longer before moving away. The woman continued her dance, eyes locked into another place.
***
As Willow made ready for bed she thought about the evening she’d had.
She’d hung around with the group until the early hours. There had been more dancing and more drinking and more dancing, but the blonde dancer had not reappeared. Willow didn’t really remember the details of anything after the blonde had gone. But she remembered what she’d seen. The images flickered through her memory.
Was it really what she’d thought? She’d certainly had a lot to drink and the heady atmosphere had made it difficult to concentrate on anything. No. She knew what she’d seen and was sure the mysterious dancer had seen the same thing in her. And the pentacle...
Since coming home, Willow had not been able to stop thinking about that blonde dancer.
Willow realised she was tired and still a little drunk. She placed the glass of water she’d been holding on the floor next to her bed. She looked sadly down at her cotton pyjamas before smiling wryly and climbing under the duvet.
*
Willow opened her eyes slowly, part of her wanting to stay wrapped in the warmth of sleep. She raised herself up onto her elbows and allowed her eyes to adjust to darkness. She was sure she remembered a noise having penetrated her dream. The city’s afterglow defined weak and rather unfamiliar shadows. Where was she? Willow realised suddenly that she wasn’t in her bedroom and she was lying in a strange bed.
A feeling of panic began to creep over her. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest.
Then, from the shadows a soft feminine voice spoke to her.
Willow found she couldn’t understand the words, but an instinct told her who the voice belonged to.
The blonde from the club stood at the foot of the bed, perfectly nude. Her pale skin and hair glittered gold in the strange darkness.
The woman reached out a slender arm, the fingers of her hand opening as to impart a gift.
Willow slowly extended her right arm toward the woman, to meet her hand. As her forearm extended, she felt her bracelet slide gently forwards, wresting atop her hand.
The woman’s fingers reached forward and brushed over the coin set into the bracelet. As they did so, a disc of intense bright light began to radiate from the centre of the coin.
The noise sounded again. Willow realised her surroundings were becoming confused. The woman, the light, the sound. The blonde was speaking, but Willow couldn’t make out the words. She tried to concentrate on the woman’s voice, straining to hear the words. The harder she tried to listen, the more confused everything became. The noise and the light heightened until there was nothing but white and a strident ringing.
The ringing sounded again.
*
Willow slowly opened her eyes and squinted in the bright morning sunlight. A curious smile played at her lips as she thought about the dream.
The door bell sounded again, before her mind clicked into full wakefulness. Willow leapt out of bed and ran to the front door, trying hard not trip on the hem of her pyjamas. She peeked through the spy hole. Buffy. She smiled to herself and unlocked the door.
Buffy stood before her, smiling, clutching two large takeout coffee cups and a white paper bag.
“Morning sleepy head!”
“Hey Buffy.”
Willow opened the door and invited her friend in. She eyed the coffee and followed Buffy as she strolled through to the small kitchen. Buffy placed the coffee and the bag down on the counter.
“Mochas?” asked Willow hopefully.
“You betcha!”
Buffy opened the bag and took out two fresh croissants and pushed one across to Willow along with one of the coffee cups.
Willow pulled up a stool, sat down and sipped her coffee. She smiled at Buffy.
“So Buffy, you’re kinda early.”
Buffy grinned. “No party gal, you’re kinda late! I phoned your office yesterday and they told me you’d gone out.”
Willow looked sheepish and little embarrassed.
“I don’t know if I’d call it a p-party.” Willow stammered.
Buffy grinned a knowing grin. “So, did this party happen to involve any, shall we say,” she paused, staring off into space for dramatic effect, “shy, intelligent and surprising well muscled young men?” asked Buffy
Willow smiled nervously as she wondered how to evade the question. “We just all went to dinner and then to a club afterwards. Nothing special. No big.”
Buffy let it go. “Anyhow, I thought I’d let you sleep in.”
“What time is it?” asked Willow curiously.
“It’s ten o’clock.”
Willow looked guilty, brow furrowing slightly. “I knew that.”
She tore a piece from her croissant, popped it into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
“So what do you wanna do today?” asked Buffy.
“Will?”
“Huh? Sorry. Not awake yet.” said Willow as she returned to staring out the kitchen window.
*
By late afternoon, Willow thought she had better get a hold of herself. She’d lost count of the number of trendy boutiques that Buffy had dragged her into. What had happened to her usual self discipline?
Buffy had “oh’d” and “ah’d” over how well this or that item suited Willow and would be just perfect for attracting that special someone. But, her mind just wasn’t really there. She’d ended up with an armful of fashionable bags and several hundred dollars worth of clothes she’d barely looked at.
Buffy had insisted on dragging Willow into just one more store. This shop wasn’t like the others. Not highly polish glam. This was actually a little quaint, certainly more inviting and more the sort of place Willow was likely to shop when she actually planned to buy clothes.
The main display area of the shop was circular. Willow stood in the centre, perusing with her eyes. Buffy moved to and fro, pointing out items she thought Willow might look good in.
As Willow looked around, her eye was caught by a small group of mannequins with a sign next to them advertising a new Bohemian collection. She didn’t think of herself as particularly Bohemian. But then the slogan was selling an illusion wasn’t it? ‘I don’t have to be Bohemian to wear a Bohemian outfit,’ thought Willow, ‘what is Bohemian anyway? Why shouldn’t I wear what I want? Hmm, over analysing the fashion decisions there Willow?’
Willow shook herself. She could see herself wearing the outfit and that was that.
Ten minutes later, the shop door settled closed behind the two women. Willow had just one more bag and a far away expression on her face.
*
As they walked, Willow took a deep breath and began the speech she’d been rehearsing for the last ten minutes.
“Er, Buffy, you know I said we’d go to a movie tonight, well you see, the thing is…”
Willow squirmed a little before going headlong for the finish.
“The thing is, I completely forgot that I have this… er thing…I said I’d do, and I really need to get it done in time for work on Tuesday. It’s only gonna take me a little while and I really wanted to get it done, so we could spend the rest of Sunday and Monday.”
Willow gave what she hoped was a convincing and apologetic smile. It was only a white lie after all. She had promised her boss she’d finish a paper for him and have it by Tuesday, and originally she had planned to do it Monday afternoon.
Buffy looked at Willow. “Really? You have to do it on Saturday night?”
”I am sorry Buffy, I know it sounds dumb, it’s been bugging me and I want to get it done. We can spend the whole rest of the weekend together though! Just you and me?”
“Okay,” said Buffy, “I guess I have a standing date with some vampires anyway.”
Willow looked straight ahead and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Then she started to wonder if she was being stupid. Why couldn’t she just tell her best friend the truth? She’d understand surely.
She didn’t think her mouth would form the words, even if her brain was willing. ‘Buffy, I want to blow off our movie date so I can go to a strip dancing club in the desperate hope of catching a glimpse of a gorgeous, anonymous blonde woman who I’ve been thinking about non-stop since the moment I set eyes on her last night.’
‘Nope, not gonna happen,’ thought Willow, ‘best stick to the story.’
***
Willow looked critically at herself in the bedroom mirror. The open windows billowed the pale bedroom curtains behind her.
Tan suede, lace up halter top, long straps flexing round her slim shoulders and back. She enjoyed the feeling of the summer air on her exposed back. The long black crushed velvet skirt descended around her hips, the contrast emphasising her pale smooth midriff.
Knee high black leather boots disappeared under the hem of the skirt, only visible through the knee length split in the back.
Willow had worked on her hair and makeup for a long time, perfecting the look of her short copper bob.
It needed something. Willow thought for a minute and then realized what she needed to complete her ensemble. She pulled open a small draw in her dresser and removed a thin, black velvet choker. She fastened it around her neck and reappraised her outfit.
‘Bohemian? Maybe.’ She decided the overall effect was right. Not slutty, just the right side of sexy.
She glanced at the clock on her night stand. 10:14pm. The taxi would arrive in minutes. Willow quickly put her few things into a clasp bag and turned to the bedroom mirror. She checked her self one last time.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked. Without giving herself time to answer, she took a deep breath and headed for the door.
*
The female greeter didn’t miss a beat when Willow had approached the club door. Perhaps it wasn’t so unusual for unaccompanied women to come to clubs like this.
Willow was shown to a smaller table than the one she’d been at the night before. She settled herself, placing her bag on the table in front of her. Willow had begun thinking about what she might like to drink and was just starting to wonder where the service was when as if on cue a waitress approached.
She bore a small tray containing a crystal champagne flute and a small white envelope. The waitress placed the glass and envelope on the table, gave a little smile and swept quickly away.
Willow leaned forward and grasped the rim of her champagne glass between thumb and forefinger. She let the glass tilt slightly in her fingers as she watched the bubbles.
The journey to the club had clouded Willow’s mind with doubt. What on earth was she doing, she asked herself. It wasn’t like her to go out looking for- what? She asked herself what had really made her to lie to her friend to spend two hours getting dressed in order to come to- here?
Beyond her self doubt, she couldn’t shake the feeling - there was something special about this woman. She was incredibly beautiful, but this went deeper than that.
Willow knew she’d seen something that no one else had. A small voice in her mind told her that she knew what she’d seen and why only she’d seen it. Yet she wasn’t quite ready to listen to that explanation – not yet.
She smiled to herself, shrugged and took a sip before turning her attention to the envelope. The paper was sealed with a tiny blob of wax.
Willow carefully broke the seal, opened the envelope and removed a rectangular card. It said two words in neat script; ‘Private Dance’. She looked at the card thoughtfully, her mind filling up with possibilities. She turned the card over and then put it down on the table.
The club seemed a little quieter than the night before. Perhaps it was early yet. As she looked around, she noticed a feature she had not seen the night before. Below and to one side of the stage a broad velvet curtain. Occasionally a person would stroll through from the main lounge. And occasionally, a person would stroll back out.
Then Willow thought she understood.
*
Minutes ticked by and then the first performer appeared. Willow absently sipped her champagne, paying little attention to the woman on stage. Her mind was too busy thinking about what to do.
As the second performer was coming to the end of her routine, Willow swallowed the last drop from her glass, lightly licked her lips and placed the flute down decisively.
She stood up and walked slowly, a little nervously over to the curtain. She paused and then before she lost her nerve, walked through.
The curtains lead to a large circular, candle lit room. The perimeter of the circle was evenly divided by entrances into large booths, small rooms really thought Willow. Carefully hung gauzes and silks obscured a clear view, but she could make out shapes. Opulent cushions and rugs, figures sitting intently. Behind each silk, she could see female forms dance languidly to the music.
The atmosphere was made heady from the scented candles, incense and slightly humid warm air. Willow could also feel the Champagne taking its effect.
A hand touched her elbow. She jumped a little, her breath quickening. Willow hadn’t noticed the female attendant who stood quietly by the inside of the velvet curtain. The woman had waited patiently without speaking and eventually, seeing Willow’s distraction had made a discrete approach.
Willow felt rather rude for not having noticed the woman.
The woman gave her a friendly smile. “This way. Please make yourself comfortable. You will be attended to.”
Willow followed the woman over to the open silk voile. As she was about to enter, the attendant added, “Please remember, hosts may touch their guest if they should so decide, but guests may not touch their host.”
Willow looked confused for a beat and then realised what the woman meant. She couldn’t touch, but she could be touched? She wondered how she felt about that. A little excited she realised.
The woman acknowledged Willow’s understanding and left her alone.
Willow took one last look around and entered the booth.
*
The blonde dancer leaned forward in her canvas chair and looked at her own reflection in the dressing room mirror.
“Nervous?” she asked herself.
She frowned slightly as she realised the answer was ‘Yes.’
“Too late to go back now. You promised her.”
Face, resolved, she stood up promptly and left the dressing room.
*
Inside the booth, enormous cushions were spread out on and around a deep and inviting red velvet couch. Thick Persian rugs underfoot. The cushions, whites and creams against the rich reds of the rugs. A small table on which sat a champagne bucket and another champagne flute. The glass was filled. Small bubbles fizzing quietly.
Willow settled herself at one end of the couch. She looked around, reached for the Champagne glass and took a small sip. She let the warm rich atmosphere wash over her. She closed her eyes and breathed.
Willow opened her eyes and they widened almost immediately.
The woman she’d been so hoping to see stood before her. She was watching Willow and moving minutely to the music.
The woman smiled at her and her movements increased.
The music was softer than the night before, but it was intense. The woman moved before her and Willow was mesmerized.
The blonde wore black. A black strapless corset, trimmed with nuances of delicate pink with miniscule matching panties. A black garter belt supported sheer silk stockings. The whole ensemble topped off with long black satin gloves. Blonde hair cascaded over the woman’s left shoulder.
The woman needed no props this time with the slow circling of her hips, confident movement of her arms as she caressed her own body, all the while fixing Willow to the spot with her eyes.
Willow felt her heart beating hard in her chest. Her face felt flushed and hot.
The tempo of the music changed and became harder, tighter. The woman’s movements matched the music, her strong, fit body harmonizing around the rhythm. Her eyes were closed.
The woman turned and with her back to Willow, her gloved hands lifted her mass of blonde hair upwards, her hands always moving.
Willow realised she was sweating, her breath was coming quicker and shorter. She couldn’t quite believe the feelings that were running through her, strong sexual feelings of want and need. As she watched, the woman let her hair fall, and turned again to face Willow, her smile was seductive and knowing. Her eyes still half closed, a sensuousness emanating from her whole body.
Willow realised the woman was moving closer to her. She approached and elegantly seated her self at the other end of the couch. One leg stretched to the floor, the other stretched across the couch and brush lightly against Willow’s thigh.
Willow thought she ought to feel shy at the contact and that she should move. But her body had different ideas. She enjoyed the sensations she felt as the dancer’s foot caressed up and down her leg. The movement crept a little higher. Willow let her eyes close and concentrated on the feelings. Ripples of tingling pleasure emanated from the woman’s touch. The movement paused and Willow opened her eyes curiously.
Again the woman was smiling at her as she reclined back into the cushions. Still her hips and body moved with the music. Willow’s heart quickened still as she watched her dancer’s hands begin to slowly peel down the lace top of her corset.
The lace edged down slowly and tantalisingly.
Then with one deft movement, the woman pulled the fabric downward and only her black gloved hands covered her full breasts.
Willow felt light headed. The champagne, the atmosphere and this beautiful woman before her. She wondered what was behind those brilliant blue eyes that fixed her so easily. The world dropped away, there was nothing outside the room. There was just the warmth and the intimacy of this nether world.
And then she raised herself from her reclining position onto her knees. She was taller than Willow, who looked up so she would not drop the woman’s gaze.
Excitement surged in her as Willow, still not moving, allowed the woman closer, gazing upwards into depths of blue eyes. She came within inches then slipped her hands down, pulling away lace and exposing broad pink aureoles and delicate nipples in the centre of her beautiful breasts.
The two women were so close now. Willow sat, not moving a single muscle, inhaling the scent of this magickal woman.
Involuntarily, Willow’s body arched forward, bringing her ever closer. The woman still on her knees responded, allowing the music to drive her. In one lithe movement her body dived like a butterfly swimmer.
As the woman moved across her, Willow felt the woman’s breasts brush across the velvet fabric of her skirt. Her hands wanted to run through the woman’s mane of thick blonde hair, but somehow she stopped herself. She didn’t want anything to detract from the moment. Her dancer was in charge and she wasn’t supposed to touch.
As if in response to Willow desire, the woman rose upwards, bringing one knee either side of Willow, straddling her.
Willow’s heart beat harder than she thought her small body could contain.
The woman’s hands were caressing down the centre of her own chest, between her breasts, down to her tiny panties. Down, over and under the flimsy fabric, then back upwards again. She ran her hands over her breasts, gently massaging, letting her fingers play with her nipples, which Willow saw harden at the touch.
Willow’s feelings rushed onwards, uninhibited now. She wanted those hands to be her hands, those fingers to be her fingers.
The woman’s eyes were closed now. She let her hands once again descend to her panties, letting her fingers explore beneath the flimsy fabric. Her body moved gently as she languorously touched herself.
Willow could not take her eyes from the woman’s hands. The two women were so close to each other, Willow could feel every movement.
The woman’s hands circled and traced their patterns. Eyes still closed, the woman let her whole hand descend inside her panties.
Willow thought she heard a low moan escape the woman’s lips.
The woman then moved backwards so she was standing at the edge of the couch, legs still either side of Willow’s.
She took another step backwards slipped a finger of each hand into either side of her panties and eased them downwards, kicking them away with a high heeled foot. With her left hand, she slowly peeled her long satin glove halfway down her right arm and gently offered it forwards to Willow.
Willow took a little breath as she realised what was wanted. Her hands shook a bit with excitement as she leaned forwards and gripped the edge of the satin and very slowly pulled the material away. As Willow’s hand’s moved, her fingers touched the woman’s pale skin. She felt a tingle of energy arc between them. The blonde’s blue eyes seemed to penetrate even deeper into Willow whirling thoughts.
Willow removed the glove and dropped it into her lap. The woman extended her other hand. Willing arms shot forwards, eager to perform the same service again.
The woman’s hands descended her stomach and ran together through her blonde nest of pubic hair.
Both women had their eyes closed now. Somehow Willow felt so close, such affinity to this woman, her mind’s eye mapped every detail as her eyelids sat closed. Willow could sense every tiny movement of her dancer’s explorations of herself.
Willow realised the music was fading she opened her eyes.
The blonde leaned into the redhead and whispered quietly.
Willow felt the hot breath against her ear. She inhaled the woman’s musky scent. “Wait for me tonight.” said the woman.
Willow opened her eyes in time to see the silk curtain falling closed behind the stockinged form of her lady as she walked casually away.
*
Willow sat at her table in the lounge and fiddled nervously with her cell-phone. She’d waited what seemed like an eternity. Vaguely she’d watched , ‘how many?’ young women sexily dance away the hours.
The place was nearly empty now. Willow was considering getting another drink, when a hand tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She turned where she sat and looked up at the owner of the hand.
The blonde woman stood behind her seat, smiling gently. She wore a classic black dress and translucent silk wrap.
Willow grinned happily. She’d waited so long, that she’d started to wonder if she’d completely misunderstood things. Had her imagination completely run away with her? But she’d come. Willow couldn’t stop smiling at her blonde beauty.
“My name’s Tara.” Said the woman.
“Hi!” said Willow. She felt herself blushing as she spoke to Tara.
The woman moved aside as Willow pushed her seat back and stood up. She lead Willow towards the rear of the lounge. Willow saw they were heading for a discrete black door that she hadn’t noticed before. As the two women walked, Tara leaned in and whispered “I don’t know your name.”
Willow felt the touch of gloved finger tentatively stroke the palm of her hand and she instinctively closed her hand into the proffered grasp. “Oh! Willow. I am Willow, er Rosenberg. Willow Rosenberg.”
Tara smiled, rolling the name over in her mind.
Willow rolled her eyes. ‘Stupid girl! You can’t even introduce yourself!’ she thought dumbly. ‘Not a great way to impress your date!’ She paused a beat before realising what she’d thought. ‘Date?’
She looked over at Tara. The blonde did not seem to have taken any offence at her lack of basic social skills. In fact she seemed to be smiling at something. She breathed a small relieved sigh. ‘Well, so far, so good…’
The two women walked hand in hand through the open door, down a short hallway and out another door.
Willow felt her mind spinning. All she was aware of was the soft touch of Tara’s hand and that when Tara looked at her she felt a slightly unexpected but definitely familiar rush of excitement.
*
Tara cast her eyes over the small parking lot. Her car was hard to miss she thought.
Still holding Willow’s hand, Tara lead the way to a small cluster of cars near the rear of the lot. She pressed a button on the key-fob she held in her hand. A silver Porsche 911 convertible squawked and lit up briefly in response.
Willow’s mouth dropped open. “Wow.” was all she could manage. Then after a brief pause “Wow.” she said again.
“You like?”. Tara gave a small questioning half smile.
Willow nodded dumbly.
“You should try driving it.”
Willow’s eyes went wide in horror. “What? Me? Drive that? I’d crash it!”
Tara found her half-smile broadening into a full grin. Tara thought she found Willow’s nervousness rather endearing. “No you wouldn’t. And anyway I am chauffeuring you tonight.”
She opened the passenger door for Willow and with a little bow invited the redhead to enter the rich leather interior. Tara walked around the car and entered the driver’s side. She turned on the ignition and then activated a couple of switches.
As Willow watched, the roof descended neatly.
Tara fiddled with the controls, and checked all her mirrors for at least the third time. She stopped and looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked herself, exasperated, ‘Why are you so nervous?’
The blonde looked at Willow, sitting serenely next to her. She felt her nerves start to evaporate. Neither woman knew exactly what was to come. Maybe they’d sit and talk the night away. Tara imagined the two of them snuggling close on her bed and telling their stories. The thought bought a goofy smile to her lips.
The redhead had left such an impression on her in what was really just a few short hours. The spark between them was almost tangible. Silent communication on a level Tara had never…Not never, she corrected herself. She had once known the feeling of being so in tune with someone as know their emotions and even their very thoughts. That had been a long time ago. Tara knew her need to believe she could feel like that again was part of why she’d felt so drawn to Willow.
She’d seen Willow’s aura so clearly. Vibrant yellows tinged with white. Willow’s aura resonated perfectly with the woman of her mind’s eye. Tara knew a yellow aura suggested razor sharp intelligence and that Willow was probably a perfectionist in everything she did. Tara imagined Willow did everything well. The white indicated a deeply honest persona. Tara prized openness and honesty above all else.
Tara emerged from her brief reverie, resolved. ‘No thinking. No worrying. Carpe Diem.’
She grinned at her little cliché, put the car in gear and roared away, tires screeching.
End of Chapter 1
"There's nothing very merry 'bout going round and round..."
Edited by: raspberryhat at: 12/25/02 11:43:39 am