Willow stared absently as Buffy reached over to jam her fork into the last bit of Willow's pancake, swirling the buttermilk goodness through a puddle of syrup before popping it into her mouth. "Yum."
"No, go right ahead." Willow pushed her plate towards the human food receptacle that was Buffy and continued with her good-natured confrontation. "Really. It's not like I wanted that last bite for myself. Or, for that matter, any of the other food on my plate."
"The way I see it," the blonde challenged, defiantly poking the food-less fork in Willow's direction, "you owe me. Making a growing girl wait for breakfast like that..."
"Buff, you're 28. So, unless you have some super powers, other than your uncanny ability to interrupt well... just about everything at extremely inappropriate times, you're not growing anymore."
Buffy waved off the friendly jab, and decided instead to venture onto an entirely new conversational path. "Will, what is it that goes through that smut-filled brain of yours all day long? Does it go something like 'boobies, boobies, boobies, and oh, while we're at it, I'll take a side of boobies?'"
Willow rested one arm on the gold-flecked Formica table and leaned in close to her best friend. She peeked incognito-like over each shoulder, checking to make certain no 12 year olds or grandmas were listening. "Actually, Buff," she said with a sly whisper and a wicked gleam in her eyes, "I like the word 'tits,' better, but you know..."
"That's twice today I'll go with the not knowing."
Willow laughed softly as she leaned back into the booth. She took great pride in verbally disarming her friend with sexual bluntness. It was definitely one of the perks of her 'job.' "Sorry, it's just I had a major writer's block breakthrough this morning, and I'm kind of immersed in all things girlie."
"Must be tough, huh?" Buffy picked up her coffee mug and swirled the remaining contents before downing it one gulp, making an "ick" face as the lukewarm liquid washed down the last bits of breakfast. "I haven't decided yet if that query is laced with sarcasm."
"Either way, the answer is still, strangely enough, yes. You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to write about all those body parts I love!"
"Oh, I get it! It'd be like me struggling to write beauty tips. I mean, just look at me - I'm a total dish!"
Willow crumpled up her napkin and playfully tossed it at her friend. "Seriously, Buff. At least for a minute. I kinda bumped into someone and I can't stop thinking about her."
Buffy's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. It had been months since her friend even mentioned someone other than one of her fictional girls. "That's great Will! I'm so happy for you!" Her friend excitedly rubbed her hands together, in anticipation of the scoop. "So, bumped into where? Like, at like a club or ..."
"Actually, more like literally bumped into someone." Willow smacked her hands together in the air. "I crashed, boomed, spilled, stumbled, inappropriately groped, babbled..."
"Oh." Buffy scrunched up her nose a little. "You really did all that? You know, that might be a Willow record."
"See, that's what I said to her, too!"
"Wait, she actually wanted to speak to you after all that!?"
"Even better." A wide and excited grin played over Willow's lightly-freckled face. "We're going out for coffee tomorrow night. And Buff? She's gorgeous and sweet and sexy and I think... that is, if I haven't busted the hard drive on my gaydar, she might have even been flirting with me." Thoughts and images of this morning's exchange with the-girl-down-the-hall began to deliciously invade Willow's brain. "One thing's for certain, she was definitely checking out my ass."
"Well, even a breeder like the Buffster can appreciate the perfection that is your firm little toosh."
"Aww, thanks. You've got a cute ass, too. Not that I ever really, uh.... looked, and can we please go back to talking about less-confusing Tara-things?"
"Sure," Buffy shrugged her shoulders. "I guess. But whenever you want to return to the topic of my fine ass, just say the word."
"Buff..." Willow folded her arms and gave an exasperated sigh, "seriously. I need help."
"Sorry, you're right. Girl-to-girl-on, uh -girl talk. Will, you just have to get back out there. I know your last relationship sucked."
"Yeah, sucked like a vampire! Seriously, Tracy was fucking every woman in Los Angeles with the exception of me! And you know how I totally blow it when it comes to simple conversation with someone I want to have lots of mind-blowing sex with."
"Will, you're talking about number 112 on the list, and you're at like, number seven. I say coffee--maybe in a sippy cup for your sake--and mega doses of that Willow charm."
"Yeah, but what if I..."
"Give her a chance, Will. She obviously knows a sweet ass when she sees one, and that's like, 75% of the equation right there, right?"
"I love you."
If Willow was the betting kind, she'd place it all on black that Buffy wasn't about to leave it at that.
(Here it comes.)
"Enough to buy me dinner next week?"
Willow shook her head and smiled, "And the week after that..."
"I know we're in sunny California and all, but this is pushing Mother Nature's legal limits of hell on Earth." The triple-digit heat was getting the best of Willow and she simply couldn't contain her internal diatribe. "Stupid sun; showing off with all its blazey sunbeams! And look at you, poor freckly skin of mine, you just don't stand a chance. I can almost hear the sun beating down on you with a crackling fury. Do you hear that freckles? It's the maniacal laughter of that fireball in the sky."
Even with her skin on high alert, there was just no way Willow was gonna layer up for protection. She would just have to take the chance. Besides, "red" jokes were nothing new.
Wearing only a pair of short, jean cut-offs and a tight, ribbed tank top, Willow walked towards her scooter and plunked down on the curb outside her apartment. She carefully placed the ice-cold Corona on the grass and reached for her ratchet set. "Now what's wrong with you?!"
She removed the cowl in order to get a look at the Vespa's little two-stroke engine and found nothing glaringly wrong. Brushing a few strands of hair away from her glistening-with-perspiration face, she fiddled with some of the wires and grabbed for the rag behind her. When she looked up, her eyes made it only as far as the black heels walking her way and she caught herself audibly gulping. Her gaze followed upward until the figure stopped right in front of her.
(Look at all. those. legs!)
Willow shaded her eyes with one hand and looked up to see (the rest of) Tara, who was wearing, quite possibly, the shortest mini-skirt known to Victoria Beckham and a very low cut, very see-through white, button down blouse.
"Well, I've definitely had my fair share of naughty and illicit thoughts, but I wouldn't go so far as to call myself dirty. I mean, when you say it like that it sounds..."
"Your face... Grease?" Tara leaned over and didn't wet her thumb so much as she full-on sucked the digit into her mouth. "Here, let me."
At the feel of Tara's moist digit brushing the side of her cheek, Willow unconsciously let her eyes fall shut and leaned into the touch; effectively rubbing the side of her face against the blonde's hand. The needy reaction was not lost on Tara and a knowing smile played over her face. Once Willow's eyes fluttered open, her gaze went directly to the perfect view of Tara tits.
"Something of interest down there?" the blonde said with a smirk. Tara called her on it, and Willow was completely, uh... busted.
"Erm," the redhead squeaked, "well... you see, this actually might be one of those times where 'you're dirty' would work."
"Do you like them?"
Willow was still inappropriately staring at the bountiful bosom in front of her and began licking her lips. "God yes! I mean..." her eyes darted up and looked pleadingly into pools of blue. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare."
"Yes you did."
"Will," Tara stood upright and placed her hands on her hips, "what's going on here?"
"Oh, well you see, Moxie here... that's what I call my Vespa... It means 'the ability to face problems with spirit.' Neat, huh? Anyhow, she's being a temperamental little lady and won't start so I'm switching out the old spark plug to see if she'll fire up. If not, I might have to take a look at the magneto and..."
"That's not what I meant and you know it." Tara moved close and took one of Willow's hands in her hers--rubbing small circles into her palm and playfully running along the length of her fingers.
"Oh. It's the babble, isn't it? It's always the babble. I know it's distracting and all but..."
"Actually, I haven't heard a word of what you've said."
"Not at all." Willow's eyes grew impossibly wide as the nearness of Tara was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. She found that her nose was scant inches away from the blonde's pussy and allowed herself a moment to inhale the hot sweetness. When she looked up she saw Tara's eyes, darkened with lust, gazing down at her. "Actually, I wasn't listening because all I can think about are those hands of yours fucking me."
"Wake me up before you go-go, don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo..."
"Muther-effer!" Willow reached for her iPhone and frantically turned off the morning alarm. She was seriously considering throwing it against the wall--if only the thing hadn't cost her half a month's rent. "I hate you Wham, exclamation point!"
As bits and pieces of her dream came charging back to her, Willow found herself getting entirely freaked about her date tonight with Tara. "Please don't wear a skirt, please don't wear a skirt... No wait, what am I saying? Of course I want you to wear a skirt. I mean, I think I want you to."
She sat up and looked over at her dog laying on the edge of the bed; seeking out a second opinion. "Jetson, what do you think?" The pooch perked up at the sound of his name and then groaned when he didn't hear the words, 'walk' or 'eat.' "Could your mommy even handle her wearing a skirt?" Willow didn't wait for an answer and instead, with an exasperated sigh, threw herself back onto the bed and let the image flood her.