Return to Computers, Conferences and Kisses Chapter Four

Computers, Conferences and Kisses

Author: Spellbound
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The Buffy the Vampire Slayer series and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.

Sunlight streamed in through the huge windows and roused Tara from her sleep. She grudgingly opened her eyes and stretched. Panic set in momentarily until the memory of the nights activities calmed her. "Wow!" she breathed quietly.

Looking around the large, clean living room she found it to be empty of people. Tara sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes. To her right, an identical couch to the one she was sitting on, stretched out at a right angle, filling the wall to her left was a painting Tara immediately recognised, after all it was she who had painted it. In the centre of the sunken sitting area and directly in front of her, was a large glass coffee table, a bowl with floating scented candles in its middle and a handful of smaller tea lights around the edges. On the edge nearest her, Tara saw a piece of paper, folded in two with her name written over the front, the fine, elegant handwriting calling her.

She reached out and sighed, "The ole ‘fuck and run'" she said sadly as she lifted the note, unfolding it carefully.

You looked so sexy and peaceful that I didn't have the heart to wake you.

The note caused Tara to grin from ear to ear as she read;

There's fresh coffee in the kitchen and plenty to eat, although I doubt any of it will taste as good as you!!!!

Tara moaned, feeling a familiar dampness growing once again between her thighs.

I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you woke up, I had some crisis to deal with, I tried to get out of it but they couldn't cope without me. I'll make it up to you, I swear.
Help yourself to anything you want and I'll see you soon.
Kisses, Willow.

Tara smiled and lifted herself off the couch, the smell of fresh coffee guided her towards the kitchen and she pushed the door open. "WOW!" she exclaimed as she took in the kitchen before her. "My apartment isn't this big!" she said, in awe of the room. A large island in the middle of the room was capable of sitting at least 15 people around it although there were only four stools, pots and pans hung from the ceiling and a large bowl of fresh fruit sat on the shelf that ran the length of the island. As she walked deeper into the room, she noticed a brand new oven from which one could feed everyone in L.A in one sitting, a classic English country house sink and a huge fridge by the door.

Tara felt like she had fallen into MTV and was on a tour of a celebrities house. A small computer screen on the counter next to the fridge told her the temperature outside as well as giving her the option of controlling everything in the house, lights, water, the blinds in each room and even the shower.

Tara pulled open the door to the fridge and scanned its contents, after her exertions the night before, she was starving. The choices laid out before her were immense, fresh fruits of various types, yoghurts, eggs, bacon, sausages, amongst many other tasty looking morsels. One bowl caught her eye, it wore a tag bearing her name and she reached in.

Something fruity beautiful?

Willow had prepared a fresh fruit salad, strawberries, mango, pineapple, kiwi and grapes sat in the bowl. Tara smiled, "You're amazing." She told the empty kitchen as she placed the bowl on the island and turned to the coffee machine. Willow had laid her out both a cup and a mug, opting for the mug she poured the scalding liquid and turned back to her breakfast. After opening 8 drawers and still not finding a suitable eating utensil, Tara opted or the original way and used her fingers.

With the fruit rapidly eaten she washed her dish and mug and set out in search of the bathroom. A small corridor lead away from the living room and opened into another huge room, this one being Willow bedroom. The centre piece of the room being a massive four poster bed draped with soft white silk, pillows filled the head of the bed and Tara stood in silent amazement. To her far left a large oak door and continuing to her right was the corridor. "Place your bets." She said as she walked into the room towards the door. She ran her fingers over the deep red cover on the bed and smiled, comfortable yet luxurious the room suited Willow down to the ground. She pushed the door open and stepped inside finding herself in a dark room or unknown content. "Oh, erm. Lights!" she commanded and the room lit up.

"Ok, not a bathroom!" she said as she looked around the room, clothes hung from rails everywhere, two large chests of drawers on the wall to her immediate left were topped with vases of fresh flowers and photos of various people who Tara could only assume were family or friends. The room smelled entirely like Willow, her perfume and well, just Willow. Tara crossed to one of the rails, her hand brushing the expensive material of the first suit hanging there. She breathed deeply, letting the aroma of the woman she had shared the best night with fill her lungs.

Quickly she turned back towards the door, the call of nature dragging her away from the sweet smell of the red head.

"Oh, erm...." She realised she didn't know how to turn the lights off. "No lights?" she said aloud, they remained on and she danced on the spot. "Dark." She tried, swearing under her breath when they remained on. She didn't want Willow to think she had been snooping around but her bladder wouldn't let her hang around to try and extinguish the lights on the room. "Stay on then!" she shouted and was suddenly plunged into darkness.

Giggling, Tara ran down the corridor and emerged in a bright, clean bathroom. She found the toilet behind door number 2 and cheered.

With her bathroom duties complete Tara noticed the time, "Oh shit!" she exclaimed running back towards the living room. She ran out of the front door, and frantically pushed the button for the life, she had to be at work in just over and hour, but she had to shower and change first.

As she emerged into the foyer, the young clerk stopped her. "Excuse me miss." He called, ushering her over. "I believe this is yours." He handed her her black apron that, in the passion of the night had been totally forgotten. "Thanks!" she said, grabbing the garment from his hand and rushing out into the afternoon sunshine.

Continue to Computers, Conferences and Kisses Chapter Six

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