Willow smiled to herself as she pressed 'send', immediately shut down her computer and folded down the screen. She calmly strolled outside to the pool, where her wife Tara was floating on an inflatable raft, moonbathing in her blue bikini. Willow got out of her leather bodysuit, a feat she could now manage in 3.5 seconds due to excessive practise and dove into the pool.
"Hey!" Tara protested when the spray of water hit her.
"Sorry, baby," Willow called over while swimming circles around her wife. "Only place to dive, really. The pool's getting a bit cluttered up. Do you think we should clean up?"
"No, it gives the pool its romantic cachet, sweetie," Tara said, referring to the two drained Australian back-packers that were floating around in their pool. The two girls had given the vampires couple a good bit of entertainment and/or nourishment in the pool, and now served as wayward decoration.
"Okay, we'll bring them to Golgotha tomorrow," Willow shrugged. "Just remind me to put some more chlorine in the pool later."
Tara resumed relaxing and lay back on the raft. The rest was disturbed, however, when a naughty Willow started to hum.
"Ta-dum," Willow grinned and continued swimming circles around the raft. "Ta-dum. Ta-dum."
"Will?" Tara asked suspiciously. "You'd better not be thinking of..."
"Tum-tum. Tum-tum. Tum-tum. Tum-tum. Tum-tum. Ta-ra-tum-tum. Ta-ra-tum-tum..."
And then, Willow was gone. The water was clear and the night was silent. Tara glanced over the pool and realized too late that Willow was underneath the raft. Two hands gasped Tara, who tumbled into the pool with a yelp. Willow pulled her vampiric wife under and initiated underwater smootchies. Their lips met for a hungry kiss while they embraced and sank to the bottom. Tara didn't even notice when Willow had managed to remove the bikini, but as they pressed together and felt Willow's hands sliding across her body, she didn't really care. Having no need to breathe, the two vampires experienced many a climatic moment on the bottom of their pool before they rose to the surface thoroughly satisfied.
"Look at me," Tara scoffed in mock-anger while she and Willow lounged against the edge of the pool. "I'm all wet now."
Willow put a finger in her mouth and whispered like a little girl. "So sorry."
"My Willow's been a very naughty girl," Tara purred. "She's going to have to be punished."
Ever since Willow and Tara had moved into the house they had stolen, they had been making efforts to turn it into a place of their own. Of course, they had kept the bedroom and living room mostly intact, but added some things where necessary, like manacles to the headboard and rather bloody and kinky artwork (stolen) to improve the whitewashed decor of the house.
Willow had thrown out most of everything out of the previous owner's study and filled it with computers (stolen), laptops (stolen) and only the most expensive of computer components (also stolen) for the building of new systems.
Tara had converted one of the bigger spare bedrooms into a magic laboratory. She had her candles (stolen) and crystals (stolen) stashed there, as well as her spellbooks (stolen), her spell components (stolen) and her magic circle (also stolen) to perform her magical experiments (often heinous).
Miss Kitty Ferocio, their beloved pet cat, had a room all for herself, filled to the brim with toy mice (stolen), scratching posts (stolen), litter boxes (stolen) and other kitty toys (oh, so stolen).
But the basement... That was a story in itself. Though the two lovers had a very healthy and, for vampires, a surprisingly loving physical relationship, two psychotic vampires often had the need to take things one step further. The basement had before a playground of the bizarre. Whips (stolen), a rack (stolen), costumes (stolen) and all kinds of related kinky paraphernalia (bought... Ah, whom am I trying to kid, they stole everything already.)
A whip cracked across Willow's back, leaving a red welt. She was tied to the rack so tightly she barely had room to arc her back. "Hmmm," Willow smiled blissfully.
"So, any thoughts on where we'll be going this year, sweetie?" Tara asked calmly while bringing the whip back to striking position. It was the end of May and time to finalize their plans for the holidays, after all.
"Um, no," Willow replied with a smile when the whip slapped across her lower back.
"No who?" Tara asked menacingly.
"No, Mistress Tara," Willow grinned. "I mean, we could go to San Francisco, but there are so many stoners there. Those were some really bad trips last year, ba... uh, Mistress Tara."
"What about Aspen?" Tara suggested.
"No, too many rich people filled up with botox and silicones," Willow scoffed. "Bad for the blood."
"Well, we'll have some time to think about it," Tara said calmly. *CRACK* "Be nice to go someplace quiet, but still has plenty of people to eat. Hm, what about Mexico? Spike used to have a friend there who ran a nudy-bar, but it got shot up by some criminals who vaguely resembled George Clooney and Quintin Tarantino."
"When do you suppose we should host the blood party, ba... Mistress Tara?" Willow asked.
"When we've got enough in the pot, I suppose," Tara said. "Depends on how fast we can steal more money."
Tara held off on the whippage for a moment, much to Willow's dismay, to walk over to the shelves next to the manacles, where they had their piggy banks, labeled 'vacation', 'blood party' and 'miss Kitty fund'.
"Uh, baby," Willow started nervously, immediately earning herself a whip across her bottom. "Mistress Tara? What are you doing?"
"I'll ask the questions here!" Tara retorted and slashed her whip across Willow's shoulderblades. "I was just going to see how much money's in the blood party fund."
"Uhhh," Willow stammered. "I wouldn't look at that if I were you, Mistress Tara. It's very boring. I looked at it once and fell into a coma!"
Tara frowned and opened the blood party fund. "WILLOW!" Tara gasped. "Sweetie, we've been burgled! Oh, goddess, you can't leave anything in the house anymore before some thief with sticky fingers lifts it from you! Dammit, we stole that money first!" With dread, Tara checked the holiday fund. "WILLOW! The holiday money's gone too!"
"Uh.... yeah, maybe somebody stole it. Yeah. Maybe," Willow gulped.
Tara vamped out immediately and strolled back to the rack until her face was mere inches away from Willow's. "Willow," she menaced. "Look me in the eye."
Willow couldn't, but Tara grabbed her chin and made her. "Where is our money?"
"Uhm," Willow bit her lip so hard she drew blood. "I, uh, know exactly where it is."
"Where?" Tara gritted her teeth.
"Somewhere inside Ceasar's Palace," Willow whispered while Tara paled and ran back to the third and final piggy bank.
"NOT the miss Kitty fund too!" Tara lamented when she found that pot empty as well. "That was for emergencies! What am I going to tell Miss Kitty? 'Oh, sorry, baby, but you can't get the worm treatment you desperately need because one of your mommies blew our money at the videopoker machines?!"
"It was the blackjack table," Willow corrected. "Besides, you could just threaten to kill the vet's family if he doesn't give Kitty her worm treatment."
"It's the principle of the thing!" Tara spat. "You promised me you'd only gamble with the money stolen from victims and not our savings, Willow! You know you suck at gambling and this is all getting seriously out of hand!"
"But baby..." Willow started.
*CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK* *CRACK*
When Willow recovered from the ecstacy brought on by Tara's violent loss of temper, she noticed she was now alone in the basement.
"Ta... Mistress Tara? Where are you?" Willow pouted. "Come on, you can't leave me hanging here! Untie me! Uh, Tara? Tara, are you there? TTTTAAAAAAARRRRRRAAAAAAAAA!"
Tara parked her car at the Las Vegas community center, just as the evening had fallen. Willow slowly stepped out of the car her body still sore from having hung from the rack all night after Tara had left her there. Tara had been angry with her all day, which Willow didn't like much at all. But really, what Tara wanted of her to do at the community canter was beyond ludicrous.
"Baby," Willow started to say to Tara, but the honeyblonde vampire merely growled at her and pointed to the revolving doors.
"IN!" Tara shouted before driving off, the tires screeching as she rounded about the corner. Willow shrugged and stepped inside.
Five minutes later, Willow found herself sitting in a circle with people who all looked like the kind of loser-types only good for feeding off, the one smelling worse than the other. In the center of it all sat a middle-aged blonde woman with a perpetually happy smile and clad in a psychedelically colored dress. When Willow had heard her name was Phoebe, she wanted to kill her on the spot.
"Hello everyone," Phoebe bubbled happily. "Such a swell day today! Isn't it super? Super-swell and chipper!"
Willow's nails sunk into the handles of her seat.
"Today we've got two new people to join our power circle," Phoebe motioned towards Willow and the man sitting next to her. "Please, introduce yourself."
"Hi, I'm, uh," the man said nervously. "I'm Thad and... I am a compulsive gambler."
"HI, THAD!" the power-circle greeted enthusiastically.
Phoebe motioned to Willow, who hung in her seat looking bored. The vampire sighed and sat up a little straighter. "I'm Willow and I'm very bored now."
"Ahum," coughed Phoebe.
"And I'm a compulsive gambler too, I guess."
"Let's all give Thad and Willow a round of applause for having the courage to take that first step on the road to recovery," Phoebe raved. "Come on. Yay! Yay! Yay!"
I hope you all spontaneously combust, Willow thought harshly while the entire circle was praising her.
"Okay, before we start off, lets clarify the rules," Phoebe bubbled. "Now, the object is to support and learn from each other. So when a member is telling his tale, he holds the Friend Fish," she said taking out a small yellow stuffed fish. "Now, when a member is holding the Friend Fish, only that member may speak and nobody else can interrupt. But don't worry, there's plenty of opportunity for discussion afterwards. Thad, may I give you the Friend Fish?"
"Thank you," Thad said when he took the fish. "Gambling... it's the bane of my life. Gambling made me lose my home, my wife and my job. Now..."
"Ugh, loser," Willow snorted.
"Now, now, now, Willow, lets not judge. You wouldn't like to be judged, now would you?"
"Oh, please, please judge me," Willow smiled sweetly. "Give me an excuse. Any excuse will do," she added wickedly.
"Willow, you are not holding the Friend Fish. And do you remember what it means when someone else holds the Friend Fish?" Phoebe stressed.
"I get to hurt the person holding the Fish?" Willow asked hopefully while Thad slid his chair a bit away from Willow.
"No, it means you cannot speak."
Willow fumed. This room seemed to be getting smaller and smaller and smaller, and the people seemed to be getting more and more and more annoying by the second. "Look, bitch," Willow glared holes in Phoebe's skull. "Nobody tells me when I can and can't speak. Not you, not Thad, and yes, maybe Tara, but never your Asshole Fish!"
Phoebe looked away from Willow. "I'm sensing a lot of negativity in the room. What are we going to do about that, Willow?"
Willow said nothing, but simply vamped out. "You just gave me my excuse."
"So you slaughtered your entire support group?" Tara blinked after Willow had come home to find Tara preparing food for Miss Kitty Ferocio. "Normally that'd turn me on bigtime, but all things considered it's not all that handy."
"Hm, baby," Willow was welcomed into Tara's arms. "It was awful. They were all such losers and I couldn't speak because I wasn't holding a fish."
"Uh, what?" Tara blinked.
"I can take care of this myself, baby," Willow sniffed. "I don't need no whiny losers and stupid peaceloving hippie Phoebes. I vamped her, you know? Last time I saw her, she was chasing a group of elderly people, still holding her Friend Fish."
"Hey, you're my wife," Tara announced. "And thus I love and support you. So, for your own good, there won't be any whippage until you work this out. I'm sorry. This hurts me more than it does you."
"N-no whippage?!" Willow's lower lip trembled as a heavy pout started to form. "But... It might hurt you, but I'd rather have you hurting me! Mistress Tara?"
"It's for your own good, sweetie," Tara looked away, tears forming in her eyes. "You're just going to have to do with only hot sex for now."
"Awwwww..." Willow pouted heavily. "No fair. Do I at least get to whip you?"
"No whippage of any kind. Sorry, Will, but I h-h-hhave to put my f-f-foot down," Tara sniffed.
"Then I'll quit gambling! You'll see! I'll do it for you. For you and for Whippage. Now, about those backpackers in the pool."
"Already taken care of," Tara smiled while putting her home-made catfood into Miss Kitty's bowl, who ate hungrily. "Come on, Miss Kitty," Tara gently petted their beloved cat. "Eat some crunchy munchy human."
Miss Kitty Ferocio purred happily in response.
Willow emerged from a busy mall, having put her nimble fingers to work on the many humans who had passed her buy and quickly ducked into an alley to see what she had scored. Fifteen wallets, together good for 3000 dollars in cash, loads of credit cards and 15 pictures of very ugly wives and children. She tossed the wallets (and stomped on the pictures for good measure) and checked her pockets for her other thefts. Passing by the humans, she'd stolen a great deal or rings, watches, necklaces and cufflinks. A neat pile lay in her hands and, after a quick visit to the pawnshop, she held in her hands a hefty 7000 dollars and plenty of credit cards for her to crack and raid behind her computers at home.
But now came the real challenge: walking back home along Las Vegas' famous strip with the money in had, and resisting the urge to duck into one of the many casinos.
Willow started her long trek along the neon-filled Strip, trying to think of other things. Tara and Willow had spent a lot of time on the strip together, mostly hunting but also seeing many comedy acts. Willow and Tara had become the toughest comedy critics known to man. If they had a bad time, the comic in question usually disappeared without a trace... Willow immensely enjoyed torturing and murdering Carrot-top for all the damage he had done to red-heads all over the world.
It was different when they liked the comic in question. Willow would never let Tara forget how Tara went overboard and threw her bra at George Carlin before she remembered she was gay. And if the comic in question was funny AND female, well, she'd have two vampiric groupies to deal with after the show. Willow was sure Sarah Silverman's life would never be the same again.
Then, Willow passed Ceasar's Palace... and almost caved.
Think Tara. Think Whippage. Tara, Tara, Tara, Tara, Whippage, Whippage! Images of Tara in a leather cat-suit... Images of Tara naked... Images of Tara in Bikini.... Images of Tara in Bikini holding a huge machinegun... Images of Tara in Bikini firing that huge machinegun into the powercircle of her ex-supportgroup. And before Willow knew it, she was halfway through the strip already.
MGM Grand, Luxor, Tropicana, Excalibur... she passed them all by merely thinking of her Tara. And after an agonizingly long walk, Willow was free and still had her 7000 dollars in hand. She twirled around her axis on one foot, dancing in the night. Until...
"Watcha the ball, watcha the ball. Where she goes, nobody knows!" sounded behind her. Two men were playing a shell-game on the streetcorner.
Well, it's not really gambling, is it? Willow thought to herself. I mean, with my vampiric senses, I should be able to see where the ball is and always win!
On her left shoulder, a miniature vamped-out Willow wearing a devil-suit appeared. "Oh, come on," devil-Willow said. "It's a sure thing! And Tara'll be really happy when you bring in all that extra money."
On her right shoulder, a second mini-Willow, this one with a sweet angelic face and wings appeared. "Like you'd ever listen to me anyway," angel-Willow scoffed and pouted, "go ahead, poopy up your unlife. See if I care!"
Willow was pissed off. Her vampiric senses saw where the ball went, already : right down the guy's sleeve. If there was one thing Willow hate, it was being cheated. So the man was now neatly drained and torn to bits. She had obtained the man's money, bringing her fortune up to 10000 dollars. And seeing she had failed to pass the strip without gambling, she started again. But this time around...
"I tried, I really tried," Willow sniffed while she sat in her living room at home. "I almost made it, but then I saw this fat stupid texan guy sitting at the roulette table in Ceasar's Palace..."
"Again with the Ceasar's Palace," Tara sighed. "Oh, Willow... you were doing so well."
"I started out with nothing, ended up with 10000 dollars, but then I went into Ceasar's Palace, lost and won, lost and won, lost and won," Willow sighed and put down a bag with money on the table. "I gambled. I failed you."
Tara looked inside the bag... and looked at Willow with a bug-eyed expression.
"Baby?" Willow frowned. "You look like you've seen your own insect-reflection."
"There's 80000 dollars in this bag," Tara blinked. "That's enough for our vacation, the miss Kitty fund, one hell of a blood party and we'll still have money to spare. I'll go put it in the safe right now!"
Willow frowned. "Aren't you mad at me for gambling, baby?"
"Yeah, but only when you lose!" Tara chuckled. "Now, this money's off limits. You'll only gamble with what you steal from others, okay? And we'll both put some of our winnings into our savings, okay?"
"I promise," Willow looked at her wife slyly. "Play now?" she suggested with an eager grin.
Tara grinned at her wife. "Let's plan our blood party over some firm Whippage," Tara started, to which Willow let out a gleeful giggle. "And some fierce loving to follow in the bedroom."
Willow hugged her beloved wife tightly while Tara led her towards the basement. "Tara?" Willow said. "I didn't make that money gambling. I just followed a high-roller back to his room, threw him out the window and stole his money."
"That's the girl I love," Tara kissed her wife on the cheek... on the nose... on the lips... and soon they were rolling over the floor, sending clothes flying.
And upstairs, Miss Kitty Ferocio was eating her second dish, reflecting how much better mommie Tara's home-made food was than her usual Whiskas.