Dear Kittens -
Though I don't surf the board any more, I still have some very good friends that I've made here and one of them let me know that there has been a recent surge of interest in some fics I wrote nearly three years ago. I'm honored and humbled that so many of you still wanted to read them. It honestly means the world. I didn't save copies of these stories for personal reasons, but luckily one kitten did and was kind enough to forward a copy on. For those of you who still want them, here is
Portal and
Tightwire as they were originally posted. Thank you so much for your interest and I hope you get much enjoyment out of them.
All my best,
taraslove
ps. Thanks to Foo for the amazing artwork and for making this happen all over again.
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Title: Portal
Author: taraslove
Disclaimer: All BtVS characters are property of Joss, etc. All other settings and characters are completely fictional and mine, all mine.
Feedback: Absolutely
Distribution: Please PM me first.
Pairings: W/T only
Rating: Builds up to NC 17
Summary: AU fic. Tara pines away after a certain redhead and naughty fantasies and totally evil despondency ensues. Happy at the end, of course.
Note: I've been lurking and loving it for quite some time. This is my first fic. Be gentle.
Chapter 1
Tara Maclay did not expect time to uphold any promises to her. She was who she was, and nothing was going to change her path, not if she waited a thousand years. She was alone. She had always been alone; she would always be alone. Nothing could shake her off her path. Not even her own steel will.
Tara did not realize how dark her thoughts were as she stood in front of the long, wide mirror over her dresser. Most of the time, she was a fairly optimistic person. But when it came to love, when it came to someone loving her… She ran a brush through her silken hair, drew herself up to her full height, preparing for the day ahead. She twirled, her reflection spinning once and, satisfied, grabbed her bag and trotted down the stairs.
“I’m off!” she called to her roommate Kylie, who was clanging around in the kitchen. Making breakfast, Tara assumed. It sounded like a reenactment of the Spanish Inquisition.
Kylie poked her head around the corner and smiled. “The gallery today?”
“Nope,” Tara said, grabbing an apple from the bowl of fresh fruit on the table by the door. “Writing stuff.”
“Well, have a good day,” Kylie smiled. Tara smiled back with a quick “you too” and headed for the door. “Hey,” Kylie added, and Tara turned, her hand on the knob. “Don’t forget that Willow’s coming over tonight. Movie night, six o’clock.”
Right. Willow.
“Kay,” Tara smiled and spun out the door.
As Tara walked to her car up the street, she thought over the past few months. Tara and her friend Buffy Summers worked together at the Canton Museum of Art, Tara part-time in the gift shop and Buffy full-time as a guard. Several months ago, the CAMA had hired a new docent – Willow Rosenberg. The three of them hit it off and began having lunch together daily and hanging out at Tara’s loft. Eventually, Tara began inviting Kylie along, and the four became a solid group.
Now, Tara drove to her meeting thinking over the past few months and how much she loved her life. Because of her friends. Because of Willow.
Funny how the one person responsible for all of your happiness can also be the cause of all your pain. Willow was amazing. She was everything. She was also straight. Tara told herself for the hundredth time since waking up that Willow was not, never would be for her and forced herself to focus on the work ahead of her.
By the time she arrived at the tall office building (after checking her mapquest directions three times and turning around once), she was in full work mode, going over the upcoming interview in her mind. She parked, climbed the stairs to the third floor, and informed the receptionist that she was there to see Anthony Templeton.
After a few minutes of thumbing absently through a magazine, Tara looked up to see Anthony poking his head around the corner.
“Hey, Tara. Nice to see you again,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile. “Ready to make my web content the best in the biz?”
Tara grinned back. “Absolutely,” she said, pulling her bag off the chair and following Anthony into his office.
Tara spent the rest of the day at home, writing the content for Anthony’s flooring company’s website. By five o’clock, she felt like she never wanted to hear about wood grain for the rest of her life. She snapped her Macbook shut, tilted her head back into the couch cushion, and sighed.
“Rough day?”
Tara cracked her eyes and saw Kylie leaning against the doorframe, two open bottles of Corona in her hands. She smiled and nodded. Kylie was a small girl with spikey dark hair and long rectangular glasses. Before their friendship had deepened – and before she’d met Willow – Tara had had a small crush on her.
“Want a beer?” Kylie asked.
Tara’s grin deepened. “Absolutely,” she said, taking the bottle and tipping it back. “Mmmmmmmmm.” She made a big deal about how good it tasted, and Kylie laughed.
“That bad?”
“The beer?”
“Your day.”
Tara took another drink and shook her head. “Just tired of sitting. I’ve been staring at the computer all day.”
Kylie nodded. “Computers will kill us all, mark my words.” She took a drink from her own bottle. “Hey, I almost forgot. Willow called and said she was running late.”
Damn.
Tara nodded. “What’s for dinner?”
“Lasagna. It’s in the oven.”
“Want me to make a salad?”
Kylie smiled. “Thanks, but I’ve got it covered.”
“Okay. Mind if I take a quick shower then?”
“Nope,” Kylie said. “There’s plenty of time. Take a long one, even.”
Tara clunked her half-downed beer on the table and headed for the relaxation of a hot shower after along day.
By the time she’d finished and had her curtain of thick hair dry, she could hear two voices downstairs.
Willow must be here. Tara smiled at herself in the mirror.
Tara checked her appearance one last time and bounded down the stairs in her boxers and tank top. She had gotten into the habit of wearing as little clothing as possible on movie nights. More skin might mean more “accidental” contact with Willow. Her crooked smile erupted when she saw Willow leaning with her back against the counter.
“Hey, you,” she said, and Willow returned her smile.
“Hey, you,” Willow answered in the same tone Tara had used, handing her the half-drunk beer Tara had set down a half hour before. It was cold. Someone must have put it in the fridge while she was showering. She looked at Kylie, who looked up from setting the table, and received a slight nod. She nodded back a thanks.
“Did you have a good day?” she asked Willow.
“Yeah, but I’m exhausted,” Willow said, arching back against the counter and stretching her arms above her head. Her already-short tank inched up, revealing a strip of creamy white skin that nearly glowed against the black of her velvet warm-ups. Willow’s belly button peeked out from the low waistband.
Good god!
Tara felt her face go warm, and she forced her eyes back up to Willow’s face.
“…got a new girl on the team today,” Willow was saying. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed Tara’s reaction. “I had her do all the skills she could, which isn’t many. She can’t even do a back walk-over. I’m really going to have to work with her, maybe suggest to her parents that she take private lessons with me on the side.”
“Don’t you make like three times more doing private lessons than team coaching?” Kylie asked.
Willow grinned. “Yep.”
“Well, you’re a good coach, so I’m sure she’ll be flipping all over the place in no time at all, whether you give her private lessons or not,” Tara said quietly, hoping that Kylie hadn’t heard. She wanted her words to be for Willow only. Willow flashed a bright smile in response, and Tara’s heart hummed within her chest.
That smile.
“We’ll see,” Willow said, dropping her eyes.
Tara took another sip of beer. “What’s Buffy doing tonight?”
“Date,” Kylie said, popping a sliced cucumber from the salad into her mouth. She crossed in front of Tara on the way to the table.
“Huh,” Willow frowned. “Who’s the flavor of the week?”
“A guy she met at the gallery, I think,” Kylie said.
Tara felt the corners of her mouth curl and before she could stop it, a peal of laughter escaped from her throat. She opened her eyes in time to catch a funny little look on Willow’s face. “I meet all the same people in the gift shop that Buffy meets guarding the collection,” she explained, her face going warm again from the look she had seen on Willow’s face. “I never get asked out, and she gets asked out several times a week. I – I just thought that was funny,” she added lamely.
And then Tara saw Willow’s face shift the tiniest bit. She – did she frown?
“You want to get asked out by the same people?” Willow asked.
“No,” Tara said quickly. “I just think it’s funny that Buffy has a two or three first dates a week. I swear the guys only come to the gallery so they can talk to her.”
“So, you want to get asked out by people at the gallery?” Willow pressed.
Just one, really. Every day. For the rest of my life.
“Um, no. I don’t think that’s what I said either. Kylie, is that what I said?” Tara grinned impishly.
“Not what I heard,” Kylie smiled. Willow rolled her eyes. “Anyway, grub’s on.” Kylie set the steaming lasagna down on the table, and Willow and Tara joined her at the table.
There was a comfortable silence as the three friends helped themselves and began to eat.
“So,” Kylie finally said around a mouth of garlic bread. “What movie shall we watch tonight, ladies?”
Tara chewed thoughtfully for a moment and said, “The Italian Job?” Charlize Theron in a fast car and a tight sweater. Mmmmmmmm.
“Yes,” Willow agreed eagerly. “That’s perfect! I love that movie. That guy with the computer cracks me up.”
Tara frowned to herself. Sure, he’s funny. If you like short little men.
The girls chatted and relaxed as they finished up. Then, they jumped into the routine they’d established over the past few weeks. Willow began clearing the table, Tara rinsed plates and fitted them into the dishwasher, and Kylie packed the leftovers away in the fridge.
When the kitchen was clean, Tara popped the movie into the dvd player and settled onto Kylie’s bed in between her friends. They sat in the same places every movie night. Sometimes they had popcorn or ice cream. They almost always had another beer.
Best of all, Tara got to lie on her stomach next to Willow and brush up against her arm or nudge her friend’s ankle with her foot. Sometimes she would stretch and shift so that her back was against the wall, one leg crooked under the other so she could “accidentally” rub Willow’s thigh or hip with her toes.
Tara lived for movie nights, and she frequently went to bed with her panties soaked through because of her maddening self-teasing. When the movie was over, she would scoot from the bed gingerly, keeping her legs tight together so that neither of her friends would smell her soaking arousal. Willow would leave and drive home, and Tara would lie in her own bed down the hall from Kylie, clenching and unclenching her muscles to try to relieve some of her longing, her wonderful delirious frustration.
Tonight was no different, if it was slightly more intense. The three of them started out on their stomachs, propped on their elbows. Willow’s low-cut white tank allowed Tara a few blissful glimpses of Willow’s breasts pressed down into the bed. The way she smells is incredible. It was a mixture of Willow’s shampoo, deodorant, and sweet-smelling skin. It was Willow and it had Tara breathing through her nose and trying not to imagine the taste.
About halfway through the movie, Tara was overcome by her proximity to Willow.
Okay, going way out on a limb here. I hope this isn’t over the line, but she would give me a signal wouldn’t she? If I did something that she doesn’t like? If she does, I’ll stop immediately. But I have to touch her. Right now. I have to touch her or I’ll die.
She nonchalantly crossed her arms underneath her, stealing a glance at Kylie to make sure she was absorbed in the movie, and slid her left hand under the peak that her armpit made with the comforter. Slowly, softly, her tentative, seeking fingers brushed Willow’s muscular arm just above the elbow.
She heard a soft gasp in her right ear. Willow’s gasp. Her touch had made Willow gasp. She hesitated, trying to judge Willow’s reaction. Neither of them pulled away.
Oh, god, I hope this is okay. She’s so close to me, she smells so good. I feel so good, and all I’m doing is touching her arm.
Slowly, she stroked her fingers up the back of Willow’s arm, lightly scraping her nails at the top of the stroke. Willow sighed.
Okay, that’s a sexy sound. Maybe she’ll do it again if I scrape my fingers back down.
Tara dragged her fingers back down Willow’s arm. Willow’s breathing was deep and ragged? Is this turning her on? It’s turning me on. I’m going to leave a wet spot on Kylie’s comforter if I do this for the next hour. But I can’t stop. She feels so good lying here next to me.
Tara hazarded a tilted look at Willow. Her eyes were closed and the corners of her mouth were twitching.
She’s not even watching the movie anymore. Look at her mouth twitching, like she’s holding back a – a moan. She’s so damn sexy.
Tara dragged her fingers again, and this time Willow leaned into the caress. Tara felt her heart swell up inside her chest. She likes this! She’s moving closer to me! Oh, god, I can’t breathe.
They spent the rest of the movie that way, Tara’s fingers secretly making love to the skin on Willow’s arm. When the credits rolled and Willow moved to go, Tara sat up slowly, feigning sleepiness. She cautiously moved off the bed and stood up. She was so wet that she expected her excitement to come splashing down through her boxers and onto the floor in Kylie’s bedroom like an overturned glass of water.
Tara walked Willow to the door.
“Bye, Kylie!” Willow called, and Kylie shouted back from the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth, “Bye!”
Tara felt her face burn. Can Willow smell me? I can smell me. I’m so wet for her. She chanced a glance up at Willow and her blue eyes met emerald. She smiled, in spite of her embarrassment.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Willow asked softly.
“Mmm-hmm,” Tara ducked her head. “For lunch?”
“Sounds good.”
“Goodnight, Willow.”
“’Night, Tara.”
A small, unsure smile later, and Willow was out the door. Tara called a hasty “Goodnight, Kylie!” to her roommate and slid into her room, closing the door hard, her own fingers seeking out her wet need in the dark. She frantically rubbed herself under her panties all the way across the room and fell onto the bed, working her clit harder and harder until she thrust her hips up and a shattering of relief washed over her.
“Goodnight, Willow,” Tara said softly into the empty darkness.
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Title: Portal
Author: taraslove
Disclaimer: All BtVS characters are property of Joss, etc. All other settings and characters are completely fictional and mine, all mine.
Feedback: Absolutely
Distribution: Please PM me first.
Pairings: W/T only
Rating: Builds up to NC 17
Summary: AU fic. Tara pines away after a certain redhead and naughty fantasies and totally evil despondency ensues. Happy at the end, of course.
Note: What's a W/T fic without a wet dream? Oh, and meeting Buffy in this one, too.
Chapter 2
Tara rolled to her stomach in her bed, and a moan rumbled in her throat. In her dream, Willow was lying beneath her, releasing soft gasps with every thrust she made below Tara’s round hips. Her fingers were digging roughly into Tara’s shoulder blades and her head was thrown back into the pillows, exposing her soft, white neck. Tara dipped her head and bit the skin there, feeling Willow shudder beneath. Tara felt Willow curl a leg around behind, gouging her heel into the back of Tara’s thigh just below the round of her butt.
The feeling of Willow pulling herself closer to Tara so roughly was almost too much, and Tara thrust herself up, her hands pushing the mattress outside Willow’s rounded shoulders, bending backward at the waist and bringing her pelvis up and crushing her wiry hair through Willow’s juice and directly into her clit.
The contact pushed an uncontrolled growl up Willow’s throat and her eyes fluttered open. Tara stared down, locked into scorching emerald, and saw a burning ferocity there that ripped loose her own feral growl and a frenzied attack on Willow’s neck.
Willow writhed underneath her, slid her hands from Tara’s back, down her length, and dug her fingers into Tara’s round ass, squeezing hard and jerking her into Willow’s clit again, repeating the sensation for both of them.
“Yes!” Tara hissed through clenched teeth, pushing back again to get the leverage she needed.
Her own throbbing clit felt like it was about to explode.
If Willow slams me into her like that one more time, I’m going to come all over her.
As if reading her mind, Willow grinned wickedly up at her, and Tara involuntarily gulped. Willow clenched her hands again, kneading, preparing Tara for what was about to come. And then, she jerked her arms tight, slamming Tara into her clit again with such force that they both came together instantly.
Tara’s eyes sparked colors behind her closed eyelids as she collapsed back onto her stomach, and she squeezed them tight once before opening them to the solitude of her rumpled bed.
Wow. Have I ever come like that just from a dream? I didn’t even touch myself. If sex with Willow is even half as good as that, I’m in serious trouble. She sighed. Not that I’m ever going to be able to test that theory.
Her body was still shaking from her dream-induced orgasm. She lifted her head and checked the clock. 8:05. Her alarm wasn’t supposed to go off for another 20 minutes. She clenched her eyes shut and tried desperately to find her way back into the dream.
Five minutes later, she was still wide awake and soaking wet.
Damn. I’m going to have to start wearing a pad or all of my underwear will permanently smell like what Willow makes me feel. Smiling at the thought, she dragged herself out of bed and headed for a much needed shower.
***
Once she was ready, she thumped down the stairs, and Kylie smiled at her from the kitchen.
“Morning, Tare,” she said brightly behind her coffee mug. “What’s up for today?”
“Morning,” Tara returned the smile and grabbed an apple. “I’m at the CAMA today. You can call my cell if you need anything.”
Kylie nodded and said, “Want to do dinner tonight?”
“I can’t. I promised Buffy that I’d go out with her tonight,” Tara said through a bite of apple. Kylie’s face fell considerably and Tara added, “Raincheck?”
“Sure, okay,” Kylie said, and Tara smiled.
“Be back late,” Tara called, and she heard Kylie’s low mutter as she shut the door behind her.
Buffy was waiting for her on the bench outside the CAMA’s heavy mirrored front doors.
“Hey!” Tara said brightly, walking up the sunny side of the walk. Buffy stood and pulled her bag onto her shoulder.
“Hey, back,” she said. “Did you guys have fun last night?”
“Huh?” Tara asked, adjusting her own bag. She felt her face warm, remembering first how she’d caressed Willow’s arm and then her dream and the uncontrollable wanting that had come from it. She silently cursed her tendency to blush at every little thing.
Well, maybe if my mind wasn’t perpetually in the gutter… She smiled at that.
“Movie night,” Buffy said, swinging open the gallery door and bringing Tara back to the present.
“Oh. Uh, yeah, it was fun.” Tara followed her into the lobby and saw one of the guards, Michael, leaning up against the wall outside the guard room.
“Hey, Buffy!” Michael waved.
“Oh, hey. Michael,” Buffy replied and turned to follow Tara into the gift shop. Tara raised her eyebrows in exaggeration and Buffy whispered, “Probably waiting for the guard’s meeting.”
“Sure, he is,” Tara said lowly, and they walked into the shop laughing out loud.
“Somebody’s in a good mood today.”
“Oh, hey, Chloe,” Tara said to the gift shop manager. Chloe was young and pretty, with a full head of prematurely gray hair.
“Hi, Chloe,” Buffy said.
“Good morning,” Chloe replied. “Tara, I don’t mean to bombard you the second you walk in the door, but would you mind setting out those drawing books that we got in last week?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. We’re all set to open. I’ll be in the back going over inventory. You okay out here?”
“Absolutely,” Tara smiled. “Surrounded by guards. Nothing could go wrong if I wanted it to.”
Chloe laughed and walked back through the door into the storage room, and Tara set to bringing out the books.
“Hey, how was your date?” she asked Buffy as she pulled a box out from one of the storage cabinets.
Buffy let out an awful groan and collapsed dramatically on the counter, head on her folder arms.
“That bad, huh?” Tara asked, a smile tugging at her lips.
Buffy tilted her head up, an agonized look on her face. “It’s funny how completely normal a guy seems when he asks you out only to have it all go to hell the minute he starts up his car.” She let her head drop back onto her arms.
“Something wrong with the way he drives?” Tara asked.
“He listens to that ridiculous radio show!” she howled, muffled by her arms. Tara felt a surge of affection for her friend. She was full-out smiling now and she could feel the laugh building inside of her. Buffy looked up, a plagued look on her face. “It’s not funny, Tara! It’s something that I would try to overlook, but he played it the entire time, and he kept interrupting me to give me little bits of intelligence for my life.”
Tara couldn’t hold it back any longer. Her laugh rumbled up and her shoulders shook with it. “Oh, god!” she laughed. “I’m so sorry!”
“Highly irritating,” Buffy grumbled.
“Well, maybe you could go out with Michael the Guard,” Tara suggested, wiping the corner of one eye. “He seems to like you.”
“Well, we’ve already…” Buffy’s voice faded as she took in Tara’s smirk. “Oh. Very funny.” Tara continued to laugh as Buffy grabbed her bag and turned for the door. She said cheerfully, “Well, in with the new! One bad date doesn’t ruin the whole…” She thought for a moment. “Barrel?” she asked, clearly unsure of how to finish her analogy.
Tara broke into a new fit of giggles. “You are such a nerd,” she said.
“But, a lovable nerd,” Buffy replied and then added, “Guard meeting’s gonna start soon. Lunch?”
Tara grinned. “Absolutely.”
The morning seemed to drag by, and Tara didn’t realize how often she kept looking to the lobby to catch a glimpse of Willow. Sometimes Willow dropped by the gift shop after a tour, and she knew that the muscular redhead was giving a tour at 10. Tara checked the clock. 11:45. Apparently Willow wasn’t dropping by today.
What if she’s freaked about last night? Well, you were rubbing yourself all over her arm for an hour, moron. She’s straight. Of course she’s freaked.
She tried to push down her thoughts and concentrate, but they kept drifting back to Willow. Willow’s amazingly soft skin. Her leaning into Tara’s touch. Did I imagine that? Of course you imagined that. Lying next to Willow on Kylie’s bed, sneaking caresses. Smelling her. Oh, god, she smells so good. Willow not stopping by – avoiding? – today. By the time Buffy came to get Tara for lunch, Tara was both extremely aroused and ready to burst into tears at any moment.
She smiled at Buffy. “Ready to go?”
“Only if you are,” Buffy replied slowly. “You look upset.”
“Do I?” Tara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and attempted another smile.
“A little,” Buffy said. “You’re not gonna fall apart on me, are you?”
“I’ll make it,” Tara smiled, grabbing her jacket. “I’m off for lunch, Chloe!” she called through the door to the storage room, and the two friends walked upstairs to get Willow.
She was sitting at her desk, scrolling a webpage, her chin resting on her hand. She glanced up, saw her friends, and stretched. Tara imagined that her short top rode up slightly behind the desk, and she fought to keep her eyes on Willow’s face.
“Hey! Is it lunchtime already? I was trying to get some research done before I leave for the gym.”
“Coaching or working out?” Buffy asked, plopping down in a chair by Willow’s desk.
“Neither. Private lesson. Jamie’s parents bring her to the gym after school. I’ve got a few hours.”
“Where are we going for lunch today?” Tara asked hesitantly.
What if she can’t even look at me?
To her surprise, Willow’s green eyes locked with hers. The corners of Willow’s mouth curved up slowly, wickedly, reminding Tara the look her dream Willow had had before jerking Tara into her hips, making her come. Tara gulped, like she had in the dream.
She almost looks like she’s going to crawl over her desk and hunt me.
A shiver ran down Tara’s spine, and a fresh pool of want gathered in the secret of her panties. I wonder what Willow would do if she caught me.
“Chinese?” Buffy asked, oblivious to the tension that was mounting.
“O-okay,” Tara said.
“Fine by me,” Willow said easily, dragging her eyes to Buffy.
Tara realized that she’d been holding her breath. She let it out, a soft sigh, which went unnoticed by Buffy, who had stood up and was walking to the door. Willow, on the other hand, arched her eyebrows so slightly that Tara wondered if she’d imagined it.
She stood up and crossed to Tara, stopping a few inches from her.
“You, um, you look really nice today,” she said, dropping her eyes and letting them linger for a moment on Tara’s chest. “I really like that top.” She ducked her head and offered a shy smile, and then grabbed her jacket and followed Buffy out the door.
Did she just stare at my boobs right in front of me? Tara tucked her renegade strand of hair behind her ear and looked down at her own chest. Her blue cotton shirt clung nicely to the roundness of her breasts and shelfed off underneath. Her mind’s eye imagined Willow’s slender hand reaching out tentatively at first and then with more confidence as she learned what Tara liked. She could see Willow’s fingers tracing her roundness and running down underneath, could feel Willow appreciate her through her touch as she squeezed and stroked and scraped her nails along Tara’s nipple. The image took only a second to create, but it was with her for the rest of her life.
She smiled lightly to herself and decided that she would sit at lunch where Willow could look at her chest for as long as she wanted.
=========================================
=============
Title: Portal
Author: taraslove
Disclaimer: All BtVS characters are property of Joss, etc. All other settings and characters are completely fictional and mine, all mine.
Feedback: Absolutely
Distribution: Please PM me first.
Pairings: W/T only
Rating: Builds up to NC 17; PG-13 in this one
Summary: AU fic. Tara pines away after a certain redhead and naughty fantasies and totally evil despondency ensues. Happy at the end, of course.
Note: It seemed like this chapter lacked the energy that I've been getting from this story, but I felt like it was a needed segue. I hope that it's still a good read. Enjoy!
Chapter 3
The restaurant was crowded and Tara found herself walking to the booth as close to Willow as she could without being too obvious. Buffy was prattling on about Michael the Flawed Guard, and Tara was hyper-aware of the pale skin showing under the sheer black shirt Willow wore. There was a thicker shirt underneath that plunged down in the back to a sharp V.
When they reached the booth, Willow turned abruptly and caught Tara staring at her back. She looked at Tara expectantly, apparently having forgotten what she had been about to say.
“Uh,” Tara searched her brain frantically. “Aren’t you freezing in that?”
Willow grinned. “Nope.”
“Oh. Just wondered, you know, because it seems like it’s forty degrees outside today,” Tara said lamely.
Seems like it’s forty degrees. Very nice, Tara. Very smooth.
She saw Willow’s eyes drop down, apparently examining her long-sleeved blue shirt. Tara had always loved this shirt; it flared out at the wrists and made her feel pretty. Now she felt her cheeks reddening under Willow’s inspection.
I definitely need to wear this shirt the next time it’s just me and Willow. If I can wait until then.
Her heart did a little dance in her chest at the thought.
“The real question is, are you warm enough?” Willow asked in a voice too low for Buffy to hear and slid into the red vinyl booth. Tara glanced down nonchalantly and saw her nipples showing slightly through the knit top. Tara smiled to herself.
Wicked Willow. Let’s see her not look now.
Tara was so caught up in her thoughts of teasing Willow, she almost slid into the booth right behind her.
“Uh, Buffy, could we switch?” Tara asked Buffy before she could slide into her own side. “I think I might have to use the b-bathroom soon and I don’t want you to have to get out to let me out.”
“Sure, Tara,” Buffy said, standing back up. “No problem.”
Tara slid into her side of the booth directly across from Willow and leaned back into the red vinyl, keeping her back as straight as possible and, though she felt a bit ridiculous, stayed that way until the waiter came to take their order.
All three of them ordered and the waiter left, pad and pencil in hand, and still Willow had not glanced at her once. She decided that it was not worth holding her ridiculous pose and she sat normally, leaning away from the back of the booth, her shoulders slumping more normally.
She never looked once. Maybe she still will. Or maybe you imagined her checking you out in the first place. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Buffy said something funny about one of the guards and Willow grinned, catching Tara out of the corner of her bright green eye.
Tara happily watched Willow until their food came, half listening to Buffy tell stories about people she had met in the gallery while she was working. She watched as Willow laughed, watched as Willow deftly used her splintery chopsticks and crinkled her nose when she caught a taste of something she didn’t like, listened as Willow offered comforting words to Buffy, who was now relaying her disastrous last date.
And then, lunch was over, and Buffy was standing and pulling on her jacket.
“Seriously, girls,” she said, “I’m about to give up. I can not get a relationship off the ground, no matter how nice or mature he is. It is not meant to be, I think.” She sounded half frustrated, half amused at her own plight.
And before Tara could stop it, before she even knew it was coming, it was out. “Maybe you’re gay.”
Willow’s eyes went wide.
Oh god. Okay, maybe it sounded as jokey to them as it sounded in my head. It could still be okay.
But the shocked, hurt look on Buffy’s face told her that she had crossed a line. She felt the blood rising in her face as she looked from Buffy to Willow and back.
The words she had meant to say then, the words of apology, words she wanted to say, would not come. She stood and bolted from the table, looking for any place of refuge. She wound up in the bathroom, locked in a stall, a flimsy red paper lantern bobbling ominously above her head.
She waited for the tears that usually came when she embarrassed herself, but they did not break loose. She spent a few more minutes waiting for those tears, and when they refused to come, she almost laughed out loud with the absurdity of the situation, unbarricaded herself from the bathroom stall and walked slowly and – she hoped – graciously to meet her friends.
“Buffy,” Tara began slowly, but Buffy interrupted her.
“Tara. It’s okay,” she said softly.
“I’m really sorry,” Tara said, her head down. “I didn’t mean anything. It just came out.”
“Tara, it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Buffy said. “I was surprised, sure, but only because you’re not usually so –“ Buffy frowned.
“So, what?” Tara prompted.
“So say-whatever’s-in-your-brain. That’s all, I swear. I mean, come on, everyone knows that I have a lot of trouble with the men in my life,” Buffy laughed. “It’s not that far-fetched a conclusion. So, chill out, yeah?”
Tara smiled reluctantly and dipped her head in a nod. She was very glad that Buffy understood her so well. Then, she remembered that Willow was also part of her audience and she hurried away without looking at Willow to pay her bill at the front counter. She did feel a pang of guilt for treating Willow so badly, but she honestly did not know what she would say. She felt it best to wait in the car for her friends.
After an awkward car ride, in which Buffy kept trying to incite conversation and neither Willow nor Tara responded much, Tara threw herself into her work, stocking shelves in silence and waiting on the few customers they had without much of her usual enthusiasm. Chloe kept insisting that Tara must not be feeling well and threatening to send her home early.
When Tara finally finished her shift and made it home, she was very relieved to see a note on the counter under a box of macaroni and cheese.
Tare,
Will be out late. Have a lovely night doing whatever you’re doing!
Love, Kylie
Tara changed into her ragged gray sweats and a tank top and fixed her box of macaroni and cheese for dinner, rehearsing all the time her awful day. What a thing to say that Buffy must be gay since she couldn’t work a relationship with a man. She did admit, that if she hadn’t looked so foolish in front of Willow, the whole thing might even be rather funny.
But then she remembered the silent car ride back to work.
Willow must be shocked and disappointed in how thoughtless and insensitive you are. Of course she is.
She dropped her bowl in the sink half full of macaroni and slumped on the couch. She stared at the wall, still replaying the day in her mind, until a sharp rap on the door shook her out of her dark thoughts. She padded to the door and opened it.
Willow stood on the other side in her black velvet pants and a green sweatshirt. Tara guessed that she must have come straight from the gym.
She held up an unpopped popcorn packet and a dvd.
“You’re not in the mood for a movie night, are you?” she asked hesitantly.
In spite of her earlier embarrassment, Tara grinned, and to her delight, Willow grinned impishly back.
=========================================
=============
Title: Portal
Author: taraslove
Disclaimer: All BtVS characters are property of Joss, etc. All other settings and characters are completely fictional and mine, all mine.
Feedback: Absolutely
Distribution: Please PM me first.
Pairings: W/T only
Rating: Builds up to NC 17
Summary: AU fic. Tara pines away after a certain redhead and naughty fantasies and totally evil despondency ensues. Happy at the end, of course.
Note: Movie night with just Willow and Tara!!! I like to call this one, Fun with Massages.
Chapter 4
Willow stood on the front stoop, illuminated from the side by Tara’s yellowish porch light and shrouded behind by the black of night.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
She looks worried.
Tara grinned. “Absolutely,” she said, stepping aside and holding the door wide for Willow. She caught a whiff of Willow’s shampoo as she walked past, and it took all of Tara’s self-restraint not to grab Willow by the shoulders and bury her nose in the hollow of Willow’s neck. Instead, she closed the door and bolted it.
“Is Kylie here? I didn’t see her car.” Willow kicked off her sneakers by the door. Her socks were bright yellow with little green frogs in a line across the tops. Tara suppressed a giggle.
“Nope.” Tara smiled hesitantly. “Just us tonight.” Jeez, Tara. Relax a little bit. It’s just a movie. But it feels so much like a date, I can’t help being just a little bit giddy. “Uh, what movie did you bring?”
“A sad one. I haven’t seen it yet. It’s about a little boy who gets abandoned by his mother, I think. That’s not going to be too close to home, is it?” Willow looked concerned until Tara assured her that she would be able to handle it.
“You know I don’t cry for movies,” she teased. “Real life is sad enough.”
“Yeah, well, I’m breaking you tonight.” Willow waggled her eyebrows, and Tara felt a cold rush deep in her stomach. Outwardly, she laughed and hoped Willow hadn’t noticed her flush.
“Come on, you,” she said, still laughing. “Let’s get the popcorn popped and the beverages served up.”
“Oooh, sounds like a party,” Willow said gleefully, clapping her hands. She followed Tara into the kitchen and leaned against the counter while Tara set the popcorn to popping and rummaged in the fridge, clanking bottles and shifting plastic bowls.
“It’s ridiculous that two girls should have this much food,” she grumbled into the fridge. “I thought there was some beer back here somewhere.” She heard Willow giggling behind her and she took extra time looking around, even after she found the amber bottles on the second shelf in the back. She wagged her ass in the air for good measure.
I certainly hope she’s enjoying the view.
“Here you go,” she said, finally pulling out of the fridge and handing a bottle to Willow. She held up her bottle and Willow clanked hers against it, laughing. “Cheers,” she said.
“Cheers to you,” Willow said. She took a long pull from her bottle and said, “Tara, listen. I’m really sorry about today.”
Tara was pulling the bag of popcorn down from the microwave and tensed at Willow’s apology. She took her time digging a bowl out of the cupboard and shaking the popcorn into it before she mumbled “uh, okay” without looking at her.
Willow forged ahead. “I know you don’t talk about your feelings much, but it was honestly just one of those things, and I wanted you to know that it’s okay.” Still, no response from Tara, and Willow continued. “I could tell how upset you were, and I wanted to make you feel better, but I just didn’t know how. I’m sorry.”
Look at her, Tara. Just turn and look at her. She is trying to help you.
Tara did as she had told herself and was shocked once again at the intensity of Willow’s green eyes. She felt herself relax, in spite of her earlier embarrassment.
“It was a really stupid thing to say,” she mumbled.
“Well, maybe it wasn’t the best timing in the whole world, but there’s nothing wrong with what you said. Nothing.” Tara stared at her as Willow took another swig of beer. “Heck, Buffy even admitted that, based on her track record, it wasn’t a terrible conclusion. You didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes you’re too hard on yourself, Tara.” Her green eyes seemed to glow from within, matching the intensity of her words, and Tara could have taken her right there against the counter. She was imagining how that would be when Willow added, “You’ve got to admit, it’s even kind of funny when you think about it, suggesting to Buffy that she might be gay in such a nonchalant manner, like it was obvious to everyone but Buffy.” Now Willow’s eyes were sparkling, and Tara found herself loving that look, too. Before she could contain it, a smile erupted on her mouth, and it was no sooner there than it turned into a full-fledged laugh. Willow laughed with her, and it was a good feeling.
“Thanks, Will,” she said softly when their laugher quieted.
Willow lifted her chin and said airily, “You’re quite welcome. Now. Movie?”
Tara laughed. “Movie,” she agreed.
They settled together into the couch while the movie was starting. It was one of those movies that took awhile to get into the plot, and after awhile Tara noticed Willow rolling her neck from side to side.
“Are you sore?”
“Yeah,” Willow admitted. “I had kind of a rigorous workout tonight. It’ll be okay in the morning.”
Okay, goober. This is your big chance. Try not to sound too eager. Play it cool.
“I could rub your shoulders for you,” Tara offered quietly. “If you want.”
Willow smiled. “You don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to,” Tara insisted. Nice job playing it cool. We might have to work on that.
“Well, I won’t say no,” Willow grinned. “But promise you’ll stop if you get tired.”
I will never get tired of touching you.
“I promise,” Tara agreed. She pointed to the floor in front of her. “Sit.”
Willow situated herself cross-legged on the floor in front of Tara and leaned back against the couch, Tara’s legs on either side of her. Tara immediately caught a faint whiff of her own arousal.
Damn. I should have thought this through better. Well, no turning back now. You’ve got a Willow between your legs.
“Uh,” Tara began and Willow craned her neck.
“What’s wrong?”
Tara pulled at Willow’s thick sweatshirt. “This is just a lot of material to work through. Do you mind changing into one of my t-shirts?”
Willow giggled. “Not to worry!” She shrugged off her sweatshirt, revealing a black tank top underneath that set off the creaminess of Willow’s skin incredibly. “Is that better?”
“Uh, yes.” Tara stared at the skin. The skin she now had full permission to touch and enjoy for as long as she wanted.
She took a deep breath, reached out a slow hand and steadied it on Willow’s shoulder blade, letting them both get used to the touch. Tara’s heart throbbed in her ears, and Willow wriggled her shoulders back and forth in childlike anticipation. Smiling at the back of her captive’s head, Tara began rubbing her thumb in small, tight circles, sinking them deep into the fleshy part of Willow’s shoulders.
“I like it hard,” Willow said, and Tara felt a sudden flood between her legs. What would I do if she ever said anything like that in a sexy way? I think I would die. Tara spent a few moments imagining some of the things she would like to hear come out of Willow’s mouth, working the muscular shoulders all the time.
A low rumbling coming from Willow shook her out of her sexy fantasy. She froze, her thumbs digging into Willow’s skin.
“What?” she asked, worried she had done something wrong.
“Do that again,” Willow said. “That’s such a good spot.” And Tara nearly collapsed.
For most of the rest of the movie, Tara worked Willow’s shoulders and neck, spending extra time on the muscles that led up under her armpits. Tara was very conscious of how close to Willow’s breasts her hands were, and she desperately wanted to push her fingers past the last spot she’d been rubbing and run her hands over the beginning of swell on the other side.
For over an hour, she rubbed her hands all over Willow’s back and down her sides, Willow all the while groaning and sighing and making Tara wetter than she had ever been in her life. Once, she rolled her head back and whispered with closed eyes, “Tara, you have the softest hands,” and Tara almost had to excuse herself to the bathroom to relieve the tension building in her clit.
When the movie was over, Tara walked Willow to the door and watched her slide her sweatshirt over her head. She was so wet, she could almost hear it when she moved.
Willow has to smell me tonight. It’s so strong.
“I’m glad you came over,” Tara said. “I felt like such an idiot today. I was convinced that things would be too awkward for us to hang out.”
“Hey,” Willow said softly, and Tara looked deep into those green eyes again. “Always feel like you can talk to me about anything. Always.” Somehow, Tara believed her, and she nodded. Willow continued. “I will admit that I thought about letting you be for awhile just to let you relax about the whole situation, but Buffy said that you get embarrassed sometimes and that sometimes you might need a little help out of it. I thought that maybe this was one of those times, and I took a shot.”
Tara smiled her half-smile. “I do get lost sometimes.”
“Well, now when you do, you know that I will find you,” Willow said.
That is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. Is it dizzy in here? I think I might fall down.
They stood that way at the door, azure locked into emerald, and suddenly Tara giggled. Willow tried her best to crook an eyebrow. “You talked to Buffy about me?” Tara asked and Willow smiled.
“Well, you know, I didn’t want to cross any lines. I didn’t want you to think you needed checking up on or anything.”
“Sometimes I do. So, thanks for checking up on me,” Tara said softly. “But, really, I am an idiot sometimes.”
“You’re not,” Willow said firmly. And then she grinned. “Overreacters of the world, unite?”
Tara grinned. “Absolutely. Goodnight, Will.”
“Goodnight, Tara.”
Tara closed the door behind her, bolted it, and then peeked out the window to watch Willow walk to her car. When she got to the door, she turned and waved big in Tara’s direction. Tara flicked the porch light off and on and went to her room, laughing to herself.
She lay on her bed in the dark, pleasantly buzzing with being so turned on by Willow. She replayed every moment she could and fell into sleep with Willow’s name on her soft lips.
=========================================
=============
Title: Portal
Author: taraslove
Disclaimer: All BtVS characters are property of Joss, etc. All other settings and characters are completely fictional and mine, all mine.
Feedback: Absolutely
Distribution: Please PM me first.
Pairings: W/T only
Rating: Builds up to NC 17
Summary: AU fic. Tara pines away after a certain redhead and naughty fantasies and totally evil despondency ensues. Happy at the end, of course.
Note: Tara goes to Willow's house for dinner and a movie. The last movie night was so fun, I figure why the hell not.
Chapter 5
Tara’s phone rang, and she flipped it open and held it to her ear.
“Hello? Oh, hi, Anthony.” The scenery sped past out her car window as she drove, the phone pinned between her shoulder and her ear. “Yeah, I’d love to meet with you about that. This afternoon is fine. Give me about a half an hour to get there. I’ve got to stop by the CAMA first. I think I can make room in my schedule for the work you need, sure. Thanks, see you then.”
She snapped her phone shut and turned her radio up, loving the feeling of driving fast to loud music. If only it were warm enough to have her windows down and the wind whipping in, making her hair all crazy. The phone rang again, interrupting her. “Damn it, Anthony, what do you – oh, hey Willow.” Radio down again. “Sorry. Guess I should’ve checked the caller ID first.” She checked her mirrors and switched lanes. “Oh, uh, d-dinner?”
Oh christ, dinner with Willow! Be cool, Tara. We’ve talked about this.
“Uh, at your place? Sure.”
Double christ! No roommate!
“I think I can manage to be there by seven. I’m coming from a meeting with Anthony. Okay, I’ll stop by when I’m done. Can I bring anything? Okay. See you at seven.”
Tara snapped her phone shut again and checked her watch. It was only three o’clock. Already her stomach was fluttery.
She mentally tried to get a grip as she pulled into her parking spot at the CAMA. She tried to get a grip all the way to Anthony’s meeting. She tried to get a grip all during Anthony’s meeting. She knew somehow, vaguely, that she was supposed to be at Anthony’s office first thing in the morning several times a week – three? – but that was all.
Instead of budgets and flow charts and wood grain analysis, all Tara could think was Willow in her black strappy tank top, her voice connected directly to Tara’s wetness as she breathed, Harder. I like it hard, Tara. She imagined other things Willow would say in her ear and before the meeting was over she had been literally squirming in her seat.
So much for getting a grip.
After the meeting, Tara fairly well flew to Willow’s apartment on the third floor. She stood on the balcony at seven exactly and Willow flung the door open, breathless and grinning.
“Tara!”
She showed Tara in, and Tara draped her jacket over the back of the chair just inside Willow’s door. As Willow passed, she caught the scent of Willow’s shampoo. Coconut. “Something smells good.”
Everything about Willow smells good.
“Thanks,” Willow said, misunderstanding her. “It's tilapia and wild rice. Is that okay?”
“Sounds good to me.”
Willow smiled. “Good.”
Tara sat at the breakfast bar and watched Willow bounce around the kitchen. Everything Willow does is so full of energy. And I love watching it.
Just as she arrived at this conclusion, Willow extended a slender pale arm above her head, reaching for a glass from a high shelf, and her tank top rode up on the slight swell of her stomach – which Tara always loved to see – and Tara, taking full advantage of Willow’s concentration on reaching the glass, stared openly at her body, raking her bashful eyes over Willow’s tight round ass, and stopping short.
Willow still had her gym shorts on from her workout, black cotton and quite easily the shortest shorts Tara had ever seen in her life. As Willow stretched, the shorts stretched with her, and Tara found her eyes locked on the very round, very sexy, lower curve or Willow’s white ass cheek that was peeking out.
Tara gasped slightly, fascinated by the sight, and felt the temperature in her own body change. Then, Willow was back down, glass in hand, filling it with water, and Tara was diligently lining up the knives and forks on the bar as straight as she could get them.
“Hey,” Willow said softly, and Tara turned. “Dinner’s ready.”
They ate together, side by side, Willow talking about her day at the gallery, Tara trying to avoid staring sideways at the nipples that were just visible through the thin black tank top.
After the meal was finished – “Delicious, Willow,” Tara had said and then blushed – Tara moved to clear the plates from the table, and Willow smoothly caught her by the wrist mid-air, stopping her.
Tara looked at her, startled and enthralled.
“Leave them,” Willow said.
Oh, god, please lick my wrist. It’s so close to your mouth and your breath is so hot on me. Please. Lick. It.
Willow smiled and released her arm. “Movie time,” she said happily.
Maybe I can rub her shoulders again. “O-okay.” She tried to smile. Lick my wrist? Do I want her to lick me there? Is that a totally sick thing to want?
Next Tara knew, Willow was sitting on the couch watching her.
“Want to sit?” she asked hesitantly.
Oh god yes. On your lap. Straddle you. Oh god.
“Sure.”
Tara tried to concentrate on the movie, she really did, but Willow’s proximity to her on the small couch and own raging arousal made it very difficult.
I want to touch her so badly. I want to touch her. The thought swirled in her mind even while Willow was laughing at something in the movie, and she blushed. Willow isn’t thinking of me at all, and here all I can do is sit here and crave her. The more she tried to suppress it, the more the urge to touch grew into a temptation until Tara had the mantra pulsing in her veins. Touch her. Touch her. Touch her.
The end result was Tara curling up on her side, her head on the arm of the couch feigning sleepiness, her arms rolled up into her chest to keep them under control. She succeeded in calming the mantra to more of a whisper, still there but easier to ignore – touch her. touch her. touch her! – and was congratulating herself silently when she felt a startling sensation.
Willow’s fingers curled themselves slowly into the crook of Tara’s knee and tentatively at first and then with increasing pressure began kneading Tara’s calf muscle, digging in the tender flesh just behind her knee. Tara had been so on edge for days and so afraid for weeks that she would do something stupid to ruin how far she and Willow had come in the last few months, when she felt the shy probe into the back of her leg and the tender, fluttering caresses that followed, she nearly had an orgasm right there.
She’s touching me! Oh god, is she touching me. That feels so good. Don’t move, Tara. Don’t open your eyes or you’ll lose her and she’ll stop.
The fingers curled into her again, and her clit cried out. It was all she could do to keep from rolling on top of Willow and riding her leg for some friction. Any kind of friction.
Willow played with Tara’s knee for the rest of the movie, and Tara pretended to be asleep, lying soaked in her panties – so what else is new? – more than ready to run home and ravage herself on her own bed in Willow’s name, afraid to move and break the spell, afraid Willow would stop her attention.
They lay like that for twenty minutes after the movie ended, Tara leaning on the couch arm, Willow propped half on Tara’s ass, rubbing and kneading her leg. A half an hour. Forty five minutes. One solid hour.
Finally, Tara brought herself to stir – where did I find it in me? – and mumble, “Willow, I’ve got to go. It’s two o’clock in the morning.” She sat up lazily and began to pull on her sneakers. I wish I could stay.
“Kay,” Willow said sleepily. Tara stood and Willow followed her to the door. “I’m glad you came over, Tara. I had a fun time.”
Tara smiled at her sleepy friend. “Me too.”
“Goodnight.” Sleepy drooly Willow smile.
“Goodnight Willow. Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”
The door closed behind her and Tara was off. Her car could not move fast enough, and she worried slightly about getting pulled over this late at night, but she did not slow down. When she was home, she raced for her bedroom and threw the door shut behind her. She made it to the bed and fell face first on top of the quilt, her had sliding down inside her jeans. She brought her hips up and down hard as the beautiful voice echoed in her head, Harder, Tara, and then she was frantically moving, writhing, humping her own hand into the mattress while imagining that it was Willow’s thigh she rode. Willow’s body coming up to meet her own.
She shut her eyes tight, trying to imagine the face Willow would be making now, as Tara rocked into her, pushing, shaking.
She grunted, and her frustration came free, washing in relief over her in waves.
She was asleep before she stopped shaking.
=========================================
=============
Same disclaimers as above.
Summary: Tara spends the night at Willow's place.
Chapter 6
It had been three days since Tara had first nearly come undone under Willow’s maddening touch, and she had spent every evening since much the same way – tucked into Willow’s couch, feigning sleep, and begging silently for Willow to continue her caresses. She was still buzzing with the thrill of it all.
Over those few days, her work, both at the CAMA gift shop and writing for Anthony, seemed to drift past in a lazy haze. She couldn’t last a few moments without remembering the feeling between her legs as Willow gently caressed her skin.
Once, she had even found herself pressing up against the gift shop counter, thighs clenched tightly to avoid moving herself against the wood. Chloe had walked in then and stopped in front of the counter, opened her mouth as if to say something and then snapped it shut tight. She tucked a strand of her white hair behind an ear and retreated into the stockroom.
Today, Tara was straightening the postcards in the rack and doing her best to not remember Willow’s hand sliding up and down the outside of her thigh the night before.
“Tara?”
Startled, Tara turned, knocking a stack of postcards off of the counter and sending them scattering across the tile floor. Willow stared at her, eyes wide, and Tara looked at the postcards and laughed. She couldn’t help it; she had been so elated this entire week from Willow’s attention, and now here Willow was right in front of her.
“Sorry,” Willow offered, stooping to help her gather the postcards.
“No, it’s my fault,” Tara said, still smiling. “What brings you down to Gift Shop World? Tour today?”
How could I have missed one of her tours? I checked the schedule this morning. Twice. She grinned to herself. You check the schedule twice every morning.
“Yeah. Hey, that’s actually why I’m here. Would you, um, would you like to come?”
Uncontrollably, Tara’s eyes fluttered to Willow’s face, wide. On the tour, Tara. Come on the tour.
She blushed. “I w-would.”
Willow’s face lit up. “Great!” She glanced down at her watch. “Tour’s in twenty. See you by the tour group entrance?”
Tara nodded shyly. And then Willow was gone, and Tara was piling her mass of disheveled postcards onto the counter. “Chloe!” she called. “I’m going on the tour this morning! Is that okay with you?”
Chloe popped her head out of the storeroom. “Willow’s tour?”
“Um, yes.” What does that have to do with anything?
“It’s fine,” Chloe smiled. “Have fun. I’ll be out to mind the shop in a minute.”
As she walked to the tour entrance, Tara marveled. Just when I think I can’t feel any more … good … Willow finds a way to make it happen.
_____
Tara was enthralled with Willow during the tour, and she was glad she was standing at the back of the group. She kept her hands folded directly in front of her, feeling Willow’s eyes on her as she talked. When Willow brought the group to a stop, and Tara looked up at the painting, her eyes widened. The painting was of a young girl, lounging on a red chaise, naked with her back to the world. It was one of Tara’s favorites.
Willow was talking about the sensuous lines made by the girl’s form, the silky detail of her skin, and Tara saw green eyes on her as she talked, all around her, inside her, and she almost wished that she hadn’t come on the tour. Almost.
When the tour was over, Tara fled to the gift shop, taking refuge from the throb between her legs.
“Did you like the tour?” a very familiar, very bubbly voice asked from behind. Tara turned to see Willow looking flushed and very excited, almost childlike.
God, she has no idea what that did to me, hearing her talk about the line of that girl’s ass and how beautiful it was.
“Um, yes,” Tara said, straightening a pile of nearby books. “It was a very good tour.”
“I’m glad you came,” Willow said, smiling.
“Me, too.” Tara returned the smile shyly.
“Hey! I was thinking,” Willow took a step and Tara involuntarily moved closer to her. The way she pulls me. Someday I might not be able to stop. “I was thinking that, um, if you, uh, wanted to come over again tonight – ” Willow offered up a very hesitant smile – “that you could, uh, just bring a change of clothes with you and, uh, just stay over.”
What?
“It’s just that –” here Willow picked up some momentum – “I know it’s probably a pain to drive to my apartment, drive back to your apartment at two or three in the morning – it was actually four o'clock last night – and then drive all the way back out past my apartment to Anthony’s for work.” Willow took a breath. “Since, uh, since gas is so expensive,” she tacked on.
Tara felt like her heart was about to pound out of her chest. God! Sleep over at Willow’s all night? What should I say? WhatshouldIsay?WhatshouldIsay?WhatshouldIsay?
Tara tried her best to smile. “Thanks, Will.” She dropped her eyes first and then her voice. “That would be n-nice.”
She felt rather than heard Willow’s exhale.
“Okay! I’ll see you for dinner around six?”
“Six is good.”
“Is pizza okay tonight?”
“Yes,” Tara laughed, some of the feeling coming back to her brain. “Pizza is very okay.”
“Then I’ll see you tonight!” Willow chirped and was gone. Tara thought she heard a grumble from the storeroom that sounded suspiciously like ‘about friggin’ time.’ She smiled and went back to work.
__________
Six o’clock couldn’t have come fast enough, and Tara found herself knocking on Willow’s door at a quarter til. Willow opened the door wide, smiling, and Tara could not help smiling just as big in return. She held up her gym bag hesitantly, and Willow nodded, still smiling, and now inviting her inside.
Willow wore much the same as she wore every night, and Tara was becoming very attached to Willow’s gym clothes. Short shorts, tight shirts. When they were alone and Willow wore her gym clothes, Tara did not have to try very hard at all to imagine the round shape of Willow’s ass or the muscular shoulders that flexed under her tank straps or the soft creamy stomach that sometimes peeked out from the hem of her shirt. Tonight, Willow’s outfit evoked a similar reaction within Tara, and she loved it.
Willow wore her brown velvet warm ups with an orange tank top. Spaghetti straps that slipped precariously. The built-in shelf bra that Willow loved so much and no other bra to speak of, which was what Tara loved so much.
How can she not realize what that outfit is doing to me? Tara finally found a way to mobilize her legs and enter Willow’s apartment.
For her part, Tara wore jeans that curved nicely around her backside and the tight blue knit shirt with the elfin sleeves that Willow seemed to like. Sneaky Tara had left her bra in the gym bag she’d dropped by the door and had taken a cue from Willow, wearing only a thin strappy tank – no shelf bra! – underneath. Whatever had possessed her to be so daring she couldn’t say, but Willow certainly didn’t mind showing her own skin off, and Tara was beginning to enjoy the effect Willow was having on her inhibitions.
The evening passed much the same as it had the previous three nights, the girls curled on Willow’s small couch, eating pizza and watching old movies. At some point, the conversation turned to the topic of ticklishness and Tara claimed that she wasn’t ticklish. Willow stretched out with an impish grin, placing her feet in Tara’s lap, the picture of wide-eyes innocence. Tara giggled and began tracing her index finger slowly up and down the top of Willow’s foot. Willow squirmed at first, issuing an answering giggle and then quieted, her eyes on Tara’s stilled finger.
“Are you ticklish, Will?” Tara asked in a low voice, and she could have sworn she saw Willow swallow.
“Uh-huh.” Red hair swung slightly as she nodded almost imperceptibly, her eyes holding Tara’s.
“I have a confession to make,” Tara said, dragging her finger slowly up the top of Willow’s foot. “I really am ticklish. But I can control it.”
“You can?” Another swallow, and Tara nodded. Where on earth is this coming from? I don’t even sound like me at all. Oh, Willow, what you do to me.
“Would you like me to teach you?” This time, it was Willow who nodded. “It’s easy,” Tara continued. “All you have to do is focus on the touch –” Willow swallowed again “– not tickling.”
“You’re saying that that’s easy?”
Tara smiled. “Here, I’ll show you. I’ll start out really slow, so you can get used to it. Just concentrate on telling yourself that the touch doesn’t tickle.”
“Okay.” Willow sounded very unsure, and Tara slid her fingers around the curve of Willow’s foot very slowly, doing her best not to tickle the trusting redhead. Willow closed her eyes, concentrating. Tara moved her finger – slowly, Tara, slowly – from the bottom of Willow’s heel up to the padding at the top, Willow squeezing her eyes tightly, her body little involuntary jerks.
“Well?” Tara asked, and Willow opened her green eyes, smiled.
“I can see how it might eventually be relaxing,” Willow said softly. “But I might need to practice.”
“Can I… can I do it again?” Tara asked, and Willow nodded.
Tara flattened her palm against Willow’s sole and waited for her to get used to the touch. Then, she passed her hand the length of Willow’s foot back down to her heel and rubbed the back of it where Willow’s skin wrinkled.
“Your hands are so soft,” Willow breathed out barely a whisper, her eyes closed again.
Well, if that’s not sexy, I don’t know what is.
Tara hesitated, knowing she would be sleeping at Willow’s tonight and therefore wouldn’t be able to get a release. She debated silently whether to push it. Then, Willow’s words rose in her ears again, the breathy voice, telling her how soft she was, and Willow’s sighs won the argument. She slowly slid her hand the length of Willow’s foot again, this time pushing past the calloused pad at the top and molding her fingers into the soft area under Willow’s toes.
Tara was not prepared for the sound that came out of Willow’s throat or what it would do to her. She stared at the redhead, shocked, who was laying back, eyes closed, her chest rising and falling deeply. The sound Willow had made was low and rumbly, almost a growl, and Tara was sure she had never heard anyone make it before, least of all because of what her own hands were doing. She stopped her movements on the relaxed foot in her lap, the wetness pooling between her
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