Palme d'Or

Author: Kaia
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers: BtVS characters belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, the WB, UPN and a few others that are not me. I'm sure the Cannes International Film Festival, the Palme d'or/Golden Palm and its logo belong to someone else, too. I own nothing but a cute little dog named Toby.
Summary: It's a short story, do you really need one?
Thanks: db for being my beta and the great friend she is, Car for the encouragement, watty for the useful suggestions/comments (and the help with the freakin' punctuation) and Paola for the inspiration.

Willow Rosenberg closed the hotel room door behind her, kicked off her heels and threw the map of the city - her best friend since she arrived in France - along with her glittering purse onto the near-by sofa. She quickly removed the expensive party dress and put on a white, fluffy robe. Willow then padded over to the window and sat on the chair by the desk, placing her elbows on the armrests and entwining her fingers over her stomach. She stretched out her legs and turned her head left to watch the timid colors of the sunrise appear beneath the clouds on the french riviera. Slowly, she closed her eyes for a moment before opening them to focus on the several newspapers laying on the desk in front of her.

" 'Fierté' obtient le Palme D'or"

"American director Willow Rosenberg wins the Golden Palm in the 73rd version of Cannes International Film Festival for 'Pride'."

" 'Pride' is a labor of love by Willow Rosenberg, who struggled for years to get financing for her huge but 'non-commercial' project. Various actors were considered over the years for the role..."

Willow chuckled. Her memory drifted to over two decades ago when she surprised everyone that knew her by enrolling in the USC School of Cinema-Television after finishing college. Today she had achieved her dream: recognition in what was considered one of the world's most prestigious film festivals. This had been her lifetime dream and yet something prevented her from being completely happy. She was alone.

A soft knock on the door brought Willow out of her reverie. Slowly, she stood and walked to the door, opening it. The sight before her made her eyes grow wide and she had to swallow the lump in her throat before trusting herself to speak. A slightly taller, beautiful woman in her early 40s was leaning against the door frame.

"Est-ce que je peux vous aider, madame?" Willow asked, not really trusting her french.

The blue-eyed, trenchcoat-clad woman smiled at her, lifting her hand to the back of her head and releasing the hair clip that held her blonde locks up. Her silky blonde hair tumbled down almost as if it were in slow motion. Willow was transfixed.

"I was told you could use a little company, someone who could take good care of you. Thought you might be interested?" The woman replied, with a demure half-smile.

Willow audibly gulped, stepping aside to let the woman in and closing the door behind her. She instinctively moved to the small bar and asked the woman if she wanted something to drink.

"Champagne, s'il vous plaît. I understand there is something to celebrate?" Came the reply. Carefully, the woman sat down onto the white sofa, never breaking eye contact with Willow. She demurely dropped her gaze to the floor while she removed her shoes and slowly crossed one leg over the other.

Willow tore her eyes away and turned back to the bar to open a small fridge, taking a green bottle out and nervously removing the cork with a loud pop. She held the fizzing bottle over the sink while she expertly poured the bubbling liquid in two tall glasses. Willow then took a deep breath and confidently handed a glass to the woman. As their eyes locked, the blonde held Willow's gaze, and took a sip.

Willow gulped again, unable to believe this was happening. She had come to Cannes filled with anxiety over the presentation of her latest film. She had dared to hope for an award, but never really thought she would get the Golden Palm. The party had been a success and she had gotten financing for her next two projects. And now she had a blonde goddess in her room, smiling at her seductively.

She was brought back to reality by the sound of the crystal glass being set on the near-by table. The woman was walking towards her, slowly undoing the buttons on her coat until she was standing right in front of her. The woman chose that moment to slide her coat off of her shoulders and let it drop by her feet. She was wearing nothing but a black leather bra and a g-string. A silver pendant with the name 'Tara' hung around her neck.

Willow felt her mouth go dry. She wanted to get closer to this woman, aching to feel the warmth of her alabaster skin beneath her fingertips. She raised her hand to touch the letters on the pendant, continuing to trace her fingers down to the edge of the bra and then between the full breasts until she felt hands undoing the tie of her robe. Willow met the woman's eyes, holding her gaze as she was slowly disrobed. The woman paused and took a step back, giving Willow's body an appreciative overall look before fixing her eyes on the delicate white lace of Willow's bra and matching thong.

Willow watched as the woman took away the glass she was holding and set it on the table. Her eyes followed the blonde goddess' every move until she was back in front of her and then she took a step closer. Their lips were a breath apart.

The blonde closed the distance between them and gently brought their lips together. Willow's eyes fluttered and closed as the woman's hands made their way to the straps of her bra, sliding the soft lace down pale freckled arms. Then she reached behind Willow's back to undo the clasp, fingering the material between her fingers before letting the garment fall to the floor.

"Nice." The woman whispered, glancing toward the floor. Willow felt her nipples hardening with anticipation of what was to come.

The woman's eyes were drawn immediately to Willow's rosy nipple. "Even nicer," she breathed, stroking her fingertips delicately along Willow's ribcage as she approached the right nipple and abruptly clasped it between her fingers. Willow's breath caught in her throat and her knees felt weak.

Willow brought her lips to the woman's ear, capturing the lobe between her lips. She heard the woman's breathing become more labored and moved her right hand to cup the leather-clad breast, reveling in the cool smoothness of the garment and the protruding nub underneath her thumb. Willow bit her lower lip, almost drawing blood. She needed to feel the luscious breast against her palm and quickly moved her hand to the front clasp, removing the offending item.

Willow's hand contacted bare skin. Her soft moan was immediately silenced as the woman captured her lips in a searing kiss. "Uh, uh," the woman shook her head. "My name is Tara."

Tara gently pushed Willow towards the bed. As the back of her knees came into contact with the mattress, Willow's balance faltered. The blonde deftly maneuvered her onto the the bed, before gracefully positioning herself on top of the now flushed red-head. Grasping her by the wrists, Tara brought Willow's delicately freckled arms above her head. She then lowered her head, allowing a curtain of silky blonde hair to fall forward, brushing against Willow's cheek. Tara started nibbling and licking down the soft skin of her arms, shoulders and chest. Willow shuddered and let out a deep moan as the blonde goddess engulfed her left nipple, sucking on it slowly, the wet tongue drawing circles over the hard nub.

Willow arched her back into the delicious sensation and lifted her hips up, brushing against Tara's stomach and sighing as the blonde abandoned the grip on her wrists, leaving her free to explore. With that thought, Willow's groans became more urgent.


Tara took the hint and, as she drew her hands up Willow's sensitive stomach and sides, she moved her mouth to the right nipple. Willow's hand clenched, gripping the comforter tightly. A glimmer of mirth twinkled in the blonde's eyes as she continued her merciless teasing. After a few moments she let the nipple go and lifted her head to look into Willow's eyes. She held the green-eyed gaze as she licked her way down Willow's stomach. Teasing. Teasing can be nice.

"Turn over." The woman demanded.

Willow rolled over to lay fully on her stomach, her eyes closed. She could feel the soft warm flesh of the blonde as she lowered herself. The world constricted and became sensation alone.

Hard nipples pushing against the sensitive skin of her back.

Hot breath on her neck.

The slide of skin against skin.

Warm lips and wet tongue as they started their journey down her spine.

Willow shivered and arched, urging her hips against the blonde's touch. Willow let her knees fall apart, offering herself to her goddess. Without pause, Tara honored the invitation and reverently lowered her lips to Willow's glistening flesh.

Soft, desperate, moans filled the room as Tara reveled in the sweetness of Willow's arousal. Willow gasped, and then began to grind, pressing her hips toward the source of her pleasure. With exasperating slowness, the blonde stroked her tongue along Willow's folds, tasting and teasing her way to the hard bud at the apex of her sex. She lapped the sweet moisture until she heard a muffled cry followed by a soft tremor. The blonde slid up Willow's side, dragging her soft breasts along Willow's glowing skin. She came to rest half on top of Willow, who practically purred as she softly ran her fingertips up the inside of the milky-white thigh. The blonde touched the honey-coated opening softly before biting her lip and slowly sliding two fingers inside the silky channel.

The blonde's head fell back and she groaned as Willow rocked into her touch. The blonde's fingers began sliding in a steady rhythm. Willow shuddered and rocked her hips. The tension began building very quickly: a hot band of desire in her lower belly, spreading and intensifying until her muscles spasmed and the heat exploded. Warm liquid flowed from her core, testimony to the intensity of sensation. Willow shivered and leaned into the tender hold of her goddess, who cooed tender words into her ear and softly kissed her neck. Willow closed her eyes and took in this glorious moment.

A few moments later, Willow rolled over to find blue eyes looking lovingly at her. The woman smiled warmly and tenderly moved a strand of hair from Willow's sweaty forehead, leaning in for a sweet kiss on Willow's ruby lips.

"Happy anniversary, baby," she said against Willow's lips.

"Happy 20th anniversary, Tara. I missed you," Willow replied, stifling a yawn. "I missed you so much. Oh my god. You made it! I can't believe you made it! Did I mention I missed you?"

"I missed you too, honey. And I'm sorry I missed the award ceremony," the blonde snuggled up to her wife.

Willow wiggled her eyebrows. "It's ok, sweetie. I knew you had a deadline for the Nike campaign. You'll just have to make it up to me,"

"You mean I haven't already?!" Tara put her hand to her chest, feigning mock indignation.

"Well, the leather bra was a nice touch... but, nope," Willow grinned. "What I want is the chance to show you my Golden Palm."

"Ah," Tara raised an eyebrow.

"Get it?" Willow stammered hopefully. "Golden Palm. I won a prize called a Golden Palm and I want to show you my..."

"Come here, you," Tara rolled bringing Willow on top of her. "Let's put that palm of yours to good use."


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