Author: katjetson
Disclaimer: The Purple Prose created the well-loved and highly-quotable, ooey-gooey monster that is Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I highly doubt my little fics are worth being noticed by some sue-happy lawyer. So yeah, just tinkerin' here. Not claiming a damn thing.
Feedback: Still going with "That'd be nifty." Please leave feedback on the katjetson's Short Stories thread on the Kitten Board.
Distribution: Not sure who else would want it, but it's yours for the taking. Just let me know, ya?
Rating: This first part is PG-13, bon't you worry your pretty little head, NC-17 is, uh... coming.
Summary: I don't know what to tell you really. Willow and Tara are gonna eventually end up in the sack. I promise. Also, Tara's boobs will probably leave at least two characters speechless and create world peace.
Note 1: Even though this novella is gonna be in three or four parts, I'm keeping it in my Short Story thread. Just think it works out best that way.
Note 2: Many thanks to Diane for pointing out those little devils known as gerunds, and for offering to assist in my creative writing process. All the other thanks go to Jude. I don't mind telling you again what an inspiration you are. X!

Willow sat in front of her computer furiously tapping at the keys. Her muse had hit her at a most inappropriate time; in the shower, mid-shampoo, but as much as she loved her computer, there were just some places the two couldn't be together. The newbie writer would simply have to learn to deal with these in-opportune moments of literary clarity, so she quickly worked the lather through her hair and repeated the muse-induced intro to her story like a mantra-silently praying that the words wouldn't slip from her brain. Losing them would be like starting from square one, and Willow didn't know if she could bear to look at that blinking cursor anymore. It was mocking her; telling her that she just wasn't cut out for the creativity that, well... creative writing entailed.

(It's smutty, lesbian short stories. How difficult could it be? Lesbian? Check. Smutty? Ohgod, yes! Good with words? Not so sure about the 'good,' but definitely... wordy. Which is kind of ironic 'cause, hello! Short stories.)

Whatever the case, she was on a roll, and her inspiration, no matter how ill-timed, was making for a rather steamy encounter with her fictional ladies. It was at this moment that Willow wished she hadn't promised Buffy they'd meet for breakfast. But there was no getting out of it now; especially considering the last time she ditched her best friend it was due to her being "in the middle of the juicy bits" of character development.

(Not sure one can claim 'juicy bits' as an excuse more than once. Shame, really.)

Willow's inner dialogue was interrupted when she felt a vibration on the desk next to her. She knew it was only a matter of seconds before the ring portion of her cell alert would kick in, and while she normally wouldn't mind hearing 30 seconds of Salt 'n' Pepa's intensely-underrated "Push It," right now she couldn't be bothered, and let the call go to voice mail. Almost instantly the phone began its song again. With an audible groan, Willow grabbed the phone and answered with a huff, "Hello?"

"Will?"

"Buff?"

"Are you up to no good in lesbo-land again?"

"I hope so. There's no finer place to be..." Willow answered as she tried to hold the phone with her shoulder and continue to type at the same time.

"Well, think you can rip the girl's bikini off quickly and get to Waffle House before the marathon sex in the hot tub begins? I'm starving."

"Ohmygod! Buffy, you've totally just given me an idea for a story!" Willow stopped typing for a moment and grabbed at her notepad while frantically looking for a writing utensil that wasn't a highlighter. "Girl-on-girl hot tub sex is definitely an idea deserving of, uh... further consideration."

"Lucky for you Ms. Summers gladly accepts Visa, MasterCard and free meals of all kinds. Now get over here. You're late!"

Willow looked up at the clock then down at her towel, "Shit! Buff, I'm sorry. I'll be there in a jiffy. I just gotta put on some clothes."

"I so don't wanna know..."

Willow heard a click on the other end and hung up her cell with a snicker. She reluctantly put down her laptop, leaned over her desk to click the save button, and lost her towel in the process. She felt a chill that unexpected nakedness tends to bring and ran over to the closet where she pulled out a pair of chocolate brown corduroys and her favorite, faded Star Wars t-shirt (a gift from Xander.) Wiggling into her extremely well-fitting pants, she stood with her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder.

(You've got a nice ass, Rosenberg. I'll give you that much.)

Totally un-naked now, Willow was just about ready to roll. In a rush she grabbed the essentials; keys, iPhone, notepad and a mechanical pencil. The items were hurriedly thrown into her bag and she ran for the door where she snagged her jacket and helmet off the hook. Just as the door closed shut behind her, she snapped her fingers in the air and mentally chastised herself.

(I can't believe I almost forgot.)

She put the key back in the lock and squeaked the door open just enough to take in the sight before her. "Bye, Jetson. I'll be back later and we'll got for a walk, 'kay buddy?" The excited and goofy look on her dog's face couldn't have been more adorable, and Willow lost herself for a moment in his big ole black-and-white moppy-mutness. She made a mental note to get him another one of those squeaker toys he liked so much, even if he did tear out all the stuffing in 10.2 seconds.

Willow knew the extra Jetson-love was wasting time and she needed to get a move-on. With wide eyes she looked down at her watch and locked the door once again.

(I don't even wanna know how many waffles this is gonna cost me.)

The redhead turned on her heels and ran, head down, for the exit--colliding forcefully with a golden-haired woman in the hallway . Willow gasped loudly and watched helplessly as the blonde jerked away from the hot coffee that splashed out of her cup and down the front of her shirt. "Ohmygod, I got you all wet! Coffee wet. Not like, good wet but..." Willow fell silent when the blonde looked up at her with an unreadable expression, and for reasons she couldn't explain, the look made Willow feel nervous and shivery.

(Oh! She's beautiful!)

Not having the time to comprehend what the other woman was thinking, Willow thought instead to make herself useful. She reached for the littered napkins on the ground and when she got to back on her feet Willow awkwardly began to pat dry the woman's top. The cheap, coffee shop napkins weren't exactly Bounty-material and Willow only managed to make more of a mess, leaving bits of white paper on the woman's navy blue blouse.

Willow chewed at her bottom lip and focused solely at the matter at hand. "I'm not helping, am I? And look at your shirt! I'm totally making it worse. Let me get. These. Off..." Willow was mindlessly picking at the woman's shirt, not even realizing that she was full-on fondling her breasts. The blonde was rendered speechless and began to blush. She stood completely still, simply staring at Willow's hands doing... whatever it was they were doing. As unintentional and harmless as it seemed, there was only so much teasing a girl could take and she gently put her hand over Willow's, moving it down and away. "I think I can get it from here."

They stood there for a moment, simply holding hands. And once Willow got her first real look at the woman before her, she began to run her thumb inside the blonde's palm.

(Stop staring. Stop staring. Stop, ohfuck... rubbing her hand?!)

Willow quickly let go and bowed her head in embarrassment, "I'm so sorry. What a cad! Here I am, ruining your shirt, spilling your coffee and feeling you up. Who knew I could do so much damage in so little time? It's like, a personal best, or worst if you will, and there's just nothing about this sentence that's coming out right, is there?"

"It's okay. I think I can get this out," said the blonde, waving her hand in front of her chest. "You know, if I get to a faucet quick enough."

Willow's next idea, while unintentionally-flawed, was nothing short of earnest, "Oh, do you wanna come over to my place? Take your shirt off and, yikes! That's not what I meant. What I meant was, you can borrow one of my shirts. I've got bigger ones for your, you know bigger uh... Either way, I take full responsibility for this awful mess. I'll clean up your perfectly-fitting shirt. Or take it to the cleaners. And I'll buy you a coffee. Like, a replacement cup of coffee, but also another cup later on down the road if you ever wanted, and.... It's not just a one shot deal here. No siree, or in your case, m'am-a-ree. Well, now, that didn't sound right either. I mean, mammaries, sure you've got totally 'em, but that's no reason to you call you by that..."

The blonde couldn't stop staring. And smiling. "Uhm." She cupped her hand over her mouth and desperately tried to suppress a giggle.

Unable to keep her own silliness in check, Willow began to laugh, as well.. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just...," she moved closer to the redhead and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Willow felt a sense of pride when she saw the other girl's smile grow wider. "that was quite possibly the most words I've ever heard uttered in one single breath."

"Oh, that's because we've only just met. You should hear me when there's money riding it. Or, grrr... talk of Republicans."

Tara busted into full-blown laughter. "Well, the parts I could decipher sounded...Well, I'm not quite sure what they sounded like, but let's start with names first, okay? I'm Tara."

"Tara-by the way, that's a really pretty name-again with the sorries." Willow quickly realized that she loved how the name sounded falling from her lips, and decided then and there she'd say the woman's name as much as possible. "I'm not usually this clumsy and awkward. Actually, that's about 50% of what I am. It's just... I mean, listen to me, I can't even tell you my name without some babble-preface. It's completely embarrassing and... I'm Willow."

The blonde flashed her a reassuring smile, "It's okay, Willow. I think it's cute."

Willow's warm, green eyes twinkled and she bounced on her toes. "You do?"

"I do. And see," she said pointing in the direction of her apartment, "I live just right at the end of the hall. Feel free to knock on the door and say a really wordy hello any time."

"You mean it?"

"I do. And we'll go out for that replacement cup of coffee--allowing you plenty of time to shoot for a new babble record."

"But what about your shirt?"

"Don't worry about it. I've got one of those stain stick things. Besides, with all the spilling and the rushing, it looks like you have someplace else to be?"

"Buffy!"

"Huh?"

"My friend." Willow scooped up her belonging that fell to the ground during the coffee crash and cradled them into her arms. "I was supposed to meet her almost a half hour ago. She's going to be waffle-impossible. You have no idea! For such a small girl, she can really pack away..."

"Willow?"

"Yeah?"

"I honestly could listen to this all day, but like you said, you're gonna be late."

With lightning speed Willow turned and raced toward the door. Tara tried to resist, but her eyes found a way down to the curve of Willow's ass and she gave it an appreciative stare before she was broken out of her reverie by the sound of Willow's voice.

"Tara!" The redhead bumped into a large plant and began to absently rub the leg that connected with the planter. "Tomorrow?"

"What?"

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

(As much of me as you'd like.) "Yes, Willow."

(She makes even an affirmative sound sexy...) "Is tomorrow night at 8:00 okay?"

"Perfect."

"Great!" Willow was on the move now. "I'll see you then, Tara." She fumbled with the straps of her helmet and pushed the door open with a jut of her hip.

Tara found herself completely taken with the redhead and sneakily followed her to the exit. She smiled to herself and watched out the window as Willow kick-started a vintage-looking scooter and zoomed out of sight. "And away she goes."