Author: Chris Cook
Long Beach, California
Tara held out her right hand for Willow, who stepped closer. As Willow's hand slipped into hers she caressed it lightly with her fingertips, then gripped it tightly and pressed it firmly to her side. Her other hand caught Willow's and held it out to her side. She leaned forward and tilted her head to one side, stroking the petals of the rose clenched in her teeth across Willow's lips, while her free hand stroked her side and worked its way to her back. Then, as the music reached its peak, she stood to her full height, staring imperiously at Willow, and pulled her tightly against herself.
The dance began, and Tara marched in time to the beat, her motions elegant yet powerful. Willow moved with her, allowing herself to be led, breathless and aroused at Tara's performance. She led well, the way she was moving her legs, her hips, her shoulders, subtle rhythms in her body had taken on an air of dominance, almost masculinity in an odd way. 'Thank God the Ministry includes tango in basic spy school,' Willow mused, realising that without her training she would have been lost - she moved automatically as her mind filled with visions of Take Charge Tara.
Tara reached the end of her walk and, as the music flourished, tossed Willow back, keeping hold of her arm so that she stretched out away from her, her head dipping down behind her, before Tara pulled her back. Again Willow's training kept her from collapsing in a daze when she found herself once more pressed against Tara, hands around her neck. Tara reached down and effortlessly pulled Willow's thigh up, supporting Willow's knee on her hip, and marched backwards, all but carrying Willow as her other foot trailed behind her.
"God you're hot," Willow breathed, feeling Tara's thigh press firmly against her centre with every other step. Tara grinned and let the rose drop into her hand, letting go of Willow's leg at the same time to return her to her feet for another walk.
"A dancer is only as good as her partner," she murmured with a sexy grin. Willow's hand met hers, and both their fingers curled around the rose between them.
Seeing Willow recovering somewhat from her initial giddy daze, Tara gave her a subtle cue for a move, and at the end of the walk stood ramrod-straight, still as a statue but for her head, which turned to follow as Willow circled her, stalking sexily, trailing the soft rose petals around her shoulders.
She was not entirely surprised when, finishing her circle, Willow took her hands and assumed the leading pose herself. She ducked her head submissively, and grinned from ear to ear as Willow gave her a quick kiss on her cheek as they walked again, not an inch of space between their bodies.
"How are our unhappy guests?" she asked in a whisper.
"Still looking unhappy," Willow replied, "I don't think they like tango... no-one's moving though. They're waiting for something. Someone."
"Keep an eye out," Tara murmured. Willow braced her foot against Tara so she could let her sway back, so far her hair trailed on the dance floor behind her. Tara took the opportunity to reach out with her free hand and snag one of the wide decorative ribbons wound around the legs of the refreshment tables, yanking it loose as Willow pulled her upright.
"Planning on using that?" Willow grinned.
"Wait and see," Tara smirked, taking the lead once more as they moved in step back into the middle of the dance floor. She slipped the end of the ribbon into Willow's hand, then at the end of their walk pushed her away. Catching on, Willow backed up as far as the ribbon would stretch between them, and tossed her head defiantly as Tara drew her inexorably back in, pulling on the ribbon hand over hand until with one last tug she pulled Willow back into her arms.
"Gotcha," she smiled as they set off again.
"Uh-huh," Willow nodded, "you got me just where I want me." Tara gave a playful giggle and pressed the ribbon into Willow's hands.
"Feel like reeling me in this time?" she offered.
"I thought you'd never ask," Willow replied, standing her ground at the end of their walk, while Tara continued away from her. At the ribbon's end Willow gave it a quick tug to make it taut, then raised her leg and looped her ankle through the ribbon stretched between herself and Tara. She pulled her leg back sharply, bracing herself as Tara rushed into her arms, and swung her around, leaning over her and kissing her neck as she tilted her head back, eyes closed and a surprised smile on her face.
"You took the advanced course at the Ministry," Tara said once Willow had pulled her upright again.
"Didn't I say once," Willow replied, "I was raised to be an over-achiever?"
"I remember," Tara nodded, "you studied everything you could, just because."
"If I'd known this is where it'd take me," Willow grinned, "I wouldn't have been studying just because... mmm," she purred, as Tara tightened her hold. The tempo of the music relaxed a little, and the various couples dancing drew closer and moved slower.
"I'm glad you did that leg move and not me," Tara murmured in Willow's ear.
"Why?" Willow asked with a grin. "Don't want people to see up your skirt?"
"And I love seeing you be sexy," Tara admitted with a shy smile. "But yeah, up-skirtage was a consideration..."
"Why, what are you wearing under your skirt?" Willow pursued the topic. Tara chuckled, and gave her ear a playful kiss.
"Play your cards right and you'll find out," she promised.
"Cards huh?" Willow giggled. "Queen of Hearts?"
"Joker," Tara replied.
"I thought you might say that," Willow laughed to herself. She caught sight of someone over Tara's shoulder and straightened slightly, alerting Tara.
"Heads up," she whispered, "I think we've got a new mystery guest." She leisurely waltzed Tara around so she could see in the right direction without having to turn her head. "By the main staircase, just coming down. Big guy, real tall, badly-fitting tux, face looks a bit lop-sided, and not in the cute way your smile is-"
"Got him," Tara said, "I recognise him. From his file at the Ministry, at least."
"Friend or foe?" Willow asked.
"Foe, definitely," Tara replied. "That's Adam Walsh."
"I've heard of him," Willow said, searching her memory. "Commando leader?"
"Former US Navy Seal, British SAS, French secret service, Omega Branch special agent... bits of everything," Tara filled in the details. "Put it all together and you have one dangerous individual. He went freelance two years ago, since then he's worked for the highest bidder, no questions asked."
"Hasn't anyone tried to shut him down?" Willow wondered.
"They've tried," Tara said warily. "He's talking to one of the security guards... he must be working for Osbourne. He's not rich enough to be here on his own, even with the pay checks he pulls in, but he's perfect to keep a secret meeting secret. And they've got the ship's crew on side, that'll make things trickier. Ah-hah... our conservative guests are on the move."
"Our cue to spring into action," Willow said humourlessly. "Tara?"
"Promise me you won't take any risks?" Willow caught Tara's shoulder as she began to turn, and held her gaze. "If this guy's as dangerous as his file says... I don't want to lose you, baby. I don't know- I just couldn't." Tara swallowed, and leaned over to place a gentle kiss on Willow's lips.
"You be careful too," she whispered. "I need you."
Willow's eyes teared up, then she blinked them away and nodded resolutely. Tara gave her a quick hug, and they turned and went their separate ways, becoming lost among the crowd of partiers.
Long Beach, California
The small group of businessmen, conservative activists and media owners followed the towering figure of Adam Walsh through the liner's hotel-like corridors. Tara checked to ensure she wasn't seen, then leaned around a corner, watching as the group passed through a security checkpoint.
"Looks like there's a secure area forward of the thirtieth bulkhead," she whispered. "Regular guards, these aren't Walsh's people. No problem."
"On my way," Willow replied through her radio earpiece.
"Okay. I'm going through." She ducked back, tossed her head to settle her hair on her shoulders, and strode out in full Supergirl-mode, hips swaying and cape fluttering behind her.
The two security guards at the end of the T-junction corridor exchanged covert grins as she approached, then one stepped out to block Tara's path.
"Sorry ma'am," he said, "no-one's allowed past here, you'll have to go back."
"Oh, really?" Tara asked in the broadest Valley Girl accent she could manage. "Did you, like, see a guy go past here, about your height, dark hair, in an Elvis costume? No? Dammit, my date's skipped out on me! How about that!" She looked challengingly at the guard, as if expecting him to comment - a trick she had learned from Anya.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, honey," he said with a grin, "he sounds like a damn fool, if you ask me. But he didn't come this way."
"Aw... I guess I should go back and look for him," Tara pouted. She gave the guard a grin. "Or, like, not... do you guys get to go off duty?" The guards exchanged glances and chuckled.
"Why, are you asking?" one of them said, advancing. Tara gave him a guileless look, batted her eyelashes, then chopped him swiftly in the throat as he came within range. His partner stared at her in shock, then reached for his belt, fumbling with the catch holding his nightstick to his belt.
"No, I'm telling," Tara said, swiftly slipping the first guard's nightstick off his belt and whacking his partner over the head with it. The first guard, still gasping, aimed a punch at the back of her head, but she swayed out of the way and caught his wrist without looking, pulling him over her shoulder and smacking his head into the wall.
Long Beach, California
"All clear," Tara reported.
"I've got your signal," Willow replied, checking her watch, where Tara's position showed up as a tiny blinking beacon on a scrolling digital map of the ship's interior.
"Go on ahead, I've just got to get these two to a room."
"Are you cheating on me with some boys?" Willow joked.
"I can't help it if I'm a knock-out," Tara laughed. Willow chuckled, then glanced around to ensure she wasn't being watched, and headed on towards the front of the ship.
"Guard," she whispered, hearing footsteps from up ahead. She glanced quickly around the corner, then ducked back. "Armed guard. I don't like guns."
"Be careful sweetie," Tara said earnestly.
"I will." She took a deep breath, then called out, "Excuse me? Hello?"
A guard - not one of the ship's security staff, but a dangerous-looking man in full commando gear and a full-face helmet - quickly appeared around the corner, his hand on his holster.
"I think I'm lost," Willow complained, in an aristocratic Lady Croft voice, "is this the way to the- oh, nice! Is that real?" She pointed at the soldier's sidearm. "I tried to get some replicas, for my costume you see, but they were all sold out, would you believe it? I mean, whoever heard of Lara Croft without her favourite pair of weapons?" She leaned back, under the pretence of gesturing to her empty holsters, which coincidentally had the effect of pushing her enhanced chest out quite prominently.
"Uh, yeah," the soldier nodded, relaxing the hand on his gun as his eyes widened, "but, uh, you've still got-" Willow quickly turned her backward lean into a backward somersault, kicking the soldier squarely in the chest. He collapsed back in a heap, and before he knew what was going on she was on top of him, his visor was flipped open and his own pistol was aimed between his eyes.
"'Still got this pair of weapons,' I know," she said, "Miss Croft hears that joke a lot." She picked the soldier's radio off his jacket, pocketed the taser on his belt, then held her watch near his face. "Be a dear and say 'all secure,' would you?"
"A-all... secure..." he said nervously.
"No, like you mean it," Willow instructed, grinning dangerously, "come on, 'all secure,' right now before I get bored of you."
"All secure," the soldier repeated, mesmerised by the barrel pointing at him.
"Good boy," Willow said, immobilising him with a pressure-point grip to his shoulder, then quickly clubbing him with the gun's handle. "I take it back, there is one thing I like about guns," she added, flipping the safety on and dropping the pistol into one of her holsters.
"What's that?" Tara asked.
"You don't have to pull the trigger to get a result." She quietly opened a door and, finding a vacant suite, pulled the unconscious soldier inside.
"Amen to that," Tara agreed. "I'm heading in now."
Long Beach, California
Harmony paced back and forth restlessly, glancing every few seconds at the room's main door. A voice from the audio console on the table startled her.
"Are they there yet?" Daniel Osbourne asked.
"Not yet boss," she replied, "but whatsisname only went to get them a few minutes ago... maybe they were busy? I mean, they were waiting in the ballroom, and they've got a pretty rocking party going on there. This one time, my roommate had to go get me from a party, right before a final, and it took, like, five hours-"
"That's lovely. Call me when they're ready." The console went silent.
"Well duh," Harmony complained, "that's what you told me to do in the first place."
"He likes the sound of his own terseness," Cordelia said from behind her, making her squeal and jump backwards.
"Cordy!" she protested. "You scared the hell out of me! Do you have to do that... that sneaky sneaking-up thing all the time?"
"I don't have to, no," Cordelia admitted. "Has Walsh reported any sightings of our two lovebirds?"
"Not a peep," Harmony said happily, "all the guys have been reporting in like clockwork. They're probably not even on board."
"They're here," Cordelia warned. She looked Harmony up and down, and frowned. "Harmony... what in god's name are you wearing?" Harmony looked down at her attire - a full body stocking in a spider-web pattern, more or less opaque, with a teardrop cut-out highlighting her cleavage, and black PVC boots done up to her knees.
"It's my villain costume," she said proudly. "Like it? I had it custom-made, this is silk you know. Very expensive. And these boots don't come cheap either!"
"And yet the overall effect is to suggest that you do," Cordelia said archly.
"Oh, like you're looking so much classier," Harmony frowned, gesturing dismissively at Cordelia's current outfit, a black corset with green edging, over a black latex cat-suit.
"I like green, it shows off my eyes," Cordelia said defensively.
"At least I've got a reason to be dressed like this," Harmony pointed out, "my good suit still has lubricant all over it."
"Even if I didn't already know the story, I so wouldn't be surprised," Cordelia sighed. "Just... try to look professional, 'kay? They're almost here."
"I'm professional!" Harmony pouted as the conference room door opened, revealing Adam Walsh and the group he was escorting.
"Just let me do the talking," Cordelia hissed. "Gentlemen! Glad you could join us... have a seat."
Long Beach, California
"They're in a conference room," Tara reported from the nearest intersection, out of sight of the room's guards. "Five metres forward, on the port side."
"Okay, I see it," Willow replied.
Long Beach, California
"Alpha Whiskey Five, report," Willow's borrowed radio crackled. She held her watch to it and played back the recording of the soldier's 'all secure,' which seemed to satisfy whoever was on the other end.
Checking to ensure she was alone, Willow sprinted towards a doorway and carefully tried the handle. Finding it locked she opened her costume's belt buckle and produced nipple ring that bent itself straight at a twist. She inserted it into the lock, and a moment later the door clicked open.
"Well what do you know," she whispered, going inside and shutting the door behind her.
"What do you see?" Tara asked.
"Daniel's a classicist," Willow muttered, examining the complicated device set up in the otherwise empty room. Various pistons and levers connected to panels set into the ceiling, which presumably reached through to the floor above. A series of electrodes on articulated rods were connected to a central generator, which hummed with power. Willow kept to the edge of the room until she had snuck beneath the single video camera pointing at the sprawling device and stealthily attached a decorative tassel to it.
"The room's secure," she reported. "Looks like an old-style set-up, connected to the conference table above..." Her eyes followed the lines of the various gears and hydraulic pistons, judging how it would all work. "I'd say the first guy to decide he doesn't want in to whatever Daniel has planned will be dropped down here, and 'lights out'."
"Wow, that is a classic," Tara mused. "I don't think I've heard of one of those set-ups being used since the sixties. Electrocution, or is it a retro flamethrower kind of thing?"
"Electrocution by the looks of it," Willow said, "this'll actually make things easier, they've already drilled all the holes in the ceiling I'll need... just got to get a snooper up there..." She carefully disconnected the device's live wires, then crawled into the middle of it and produced a tiny camera and microphone from her backpack.
Long Beach, California
"I've got video and audio," Willow reported. "They're all there... I can't see Walker's face through this thing, but I recognise the waistline... there's Harmony on the other side of the table, I recognise her butt..."
"You what?" Tara asked.
"Pretty much everyone in my freshman year would recognise Harmony's butt," Willow explained. "From numerous photocopies on the notice boards, even if they weren't present at the infamous football stadium 'Hail Mary' incident... she's got a friend too, can't get an angle on her face..."
"Someone's coming," Tara whispered, ducking into a vacant suite and leaving the door open just a fraction. "It's Osbourne."
"And now, we listen and learn," Willow replied.
Long Beach, California
"Gentlemen," Daniel said as he entered the conference room, "sorry to keep you waiting. Walsh, thanks." The mercenary nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Harmony opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by a swift elbow in the ribs from Cordelia, who nodded evenly at Daniel.
"I'm a man of few words," he said, taking his seat at the head of the table, "so I'll be brief. You've all contributed to an... initiative of mine. You've been party to certain projects, lent your support to certain developments..."
"And it's about time we got an explanation!" one of the assembled men protested. "My firm has made a very significant investment, and I was told-"
"Mr. McDonald," Daniel said calmly, "you were told what you needed to be told, in order to motivate you."
"Well what I was told," McDonald said, "is that you had a way to safeguard internet users completely from inappropriate material. We've delayed half a dozen release dates, our competitors are taking notice, and you haven't delivered. Where's the super-screening program?" he demanded, rising from his seat.
"Mr. McDonald, have a seat," Daniel said quietly. McDonald glared at him, but subsided.
"What you were each told was true," Daniel went on, "more or less. You wouldn't be here unless you understood that there is a... plague. An epidemic of immorality, lewdness, corruption. A communicable disease, transmitted through books, television, films, websites. It turns good, wholesome people, the driving force of your industries, your consumers, into worthless trash. You all recognise the danger, you all know the solution. Men and women are weak... they give in to temptation, they let themselves be led astray. Strong leadership is needed, leadership that won't just tell them what they must do, but make them do it. In fact, make it impossible for them to do otherwise."
"Of course," Mr. Walker agreed, "people have to be protected, for their own good. But there are so many, aha, 'collaborators' one might say... so many ways for indecency to be transmitted from the sorry specimens who produce it to the poor souls who fall victim to it. And if one tries to curtail them, well, they cry 'free speech', 'liberty'... as if people can be trusted to make their own choices," he scoffed.
"You're quite right," Daniel nodded, "they can't." He leaned forward to press an inset button on the table edge in front of him, and flat-screens opened up in front of his guests. Each showed a complex logic diagram, multi-layered with loops and processes being highlighted in turn as the graphic cycled through a sequence.
"This," Daniel said with a faint smile, "solves everything."
"This is it?" McDonald asked. "The smut eraser?"
"I call it Panacea," Daniel said, with understated pride. "The program is self-replicating, self-propagating, self-defending. Once it reaches critical mass, it can't be shut down."
"Critical mass?" Walker asked.
"I'm not much for long explanations. Harmony?" Daniel asked. Cordelia sighed and covered her face with her hand.
"Oh, righty," Harmony said, jumping to her feet, "okay, so what we have here is basically a self-adjusting computer, you know, program thing... so it'll change. Each one of it will change, I mean - once it's spreading all over the place, each version of it will be slightly different, so if you get someone trying to use an anti-program program-"
"Countermeasure," Daniel said quietly.
"Yup, thanks, a countermeasure," Harmony went on, "it'll work on some, but not on others, so the survivors will take over and fill in the gaps left by the ones that go kablooey when people fight back. Sort of like, you guys know football? Well I once had this team over at my place, and they were explaining about substitutes, while the other guys got me some drinks-"
"Less elaboration," Daniel interrupted.
"Less...? Oh, right... okay, well it's substitutes, basically. One version of the program gets broken, another takes its place, and it, like, learns from previous generations of itself, like it's evolving, like on the Discovery Channel when they're not showing monkeys fu-"
"Critical mass, Harmony!" Daniel insisted.
"Okay, okay! Jeez," she crossed her arms in a huff, and went on: "critical mass is when the program reaches a certain level of network penetration..." She stopped and chuckled to herself. "That sounds dirty... anyway, once we reach critical mass, we can't be shut down. Like, ever. Short of the whole worldwide digital network being destroyed and replaced by a new one - as in, new TVs, new computers, new servers, new phone exchanges, anything with a programmable chip in it."
"That's impossible," McDonald said, "no-one would ever risk that kind of shut-down... it would mean-"
"World-wide chaos," Daniel nodded, "exactly. It will be in the best interests of the world to accept our gift, rather than try to fight it."
"Bet they will anyway," Walker complained. "They always do."
"Not this time," Daniel grinned. "Not this way."
Long Beach, California
"There are two layers to Panacea," Daniel's voice was relayed through Willow's snooper. "The first is the overt layer, the alteration of unhealthy material into healthy. But that addresses the symptom - we have to treat the cause as well. The covert layer is a subliminal pulse pattern, interlaced with video and audio signals. Through their televisions, computers, radios, stereos, phones, the people of the world will be reprogrammed. Smut will disappear from the face of the Earth - not because it will not be transmitted, but because it will not be created."
"Holy moley, can they do that?" Tara's voice asked.
"I don't know," Willow whispered, "god, I hope not... but if it's true, some kind of subliminal conditioning..."
"We have to get this to the Ministry, right away," Tara decided. "If this reprogramming is so subtle they haven't even noticed it on the captured chip, this could be our only hope of stopping it!"
"Something's happening," Willow warned.
Long Beach, California
"No way," McDonald was protesting, "look I agree with your ideals, but there is no way I'll let myself be implicated in this. If it goes wrong, if the authorities find out... you're not just talking about censorship, you're talking about messing with the brains of the whole planet!"
"It won't go wrong," Daniel said calmly.
"Yeah, I've heard that before," McDonald sneered. "I'm out. Make the attempt with my blessing, I hope you succeed, but I won't be a part of it. That's my final word." Daniel fixed him with a long stare, then shrugged.
"Well, if you're certain," he said. "I'm sure we all thank you for your contributions. If you don't wish to continue, that's your choice." He leaned forward and pressed another button; McDonald's chair suddenly dropped through a hatch in the floor, which snapped shut once he had vanished. A second later there was a blood-curdling scream, followed by silence.
"Does anyone else have any second thoughts?" Daniel asked politely.
Long Beach, California
"Willow?" Tara was asking.
"I'm okay," she replied, "we might have to take a passenger with us when we leave though." She gave an exasperated sigh and glared at McDonald, who was quietly hyperventilating with her hand clamped firmly over his mouth.
"What was that scream?" Tara asked.
"Taser to the genitals," Willow replied cheerfully, "his, not mine, obviously."
"Thank god for that," Tara noted.
"Yeah... sorry about that," she whispered to McDonald, who was calming down slightly, "but I really didn't have time to explain how to fake your own electrocution. Now, lemme explain the situation to you. You have just been murdered. Are you still with me?"
"Hrmm?" McDonald asked.
"Look, Osbourne just tried to cook you like a McNugget," Willow explained. "He's got Walsh and his soldiers, plus the ship's security people, working for him. I'm pretty good at escaping from ships packed full of people who want to kill me. Unless you are too, how do you feel about doing exactly what I say, when I say it? Starting with nodding and not making a sound?"
McDonald nodded, and Willow slowly removed her hand from his mouth.
"Ick," she complained, wiping it on his jacket, "could you have kept your mouth closed? Honestly. Come on, on your feet. Sweetheart? Not you," she added to McDonald, who had looked confused.
"Yes?" Tara asked.
"I'm thinking Plan B," Willow said, "we need every word Daniel says, but I can't move fast with this guy. I'll stash him down below, then meet you back on this deck and we'll get the snooper and leave together."
"Good plan," Tara replied.
"Okay, see you soon." She gestured to McDonald. "Come on you, let's go."
"What'll you do to me?" he whispered.
"I'll keep you alive," she replied, "believe me, that's the best deal you'll get. I'll take you to a secure area down below, you'll be safe there 'til I'm ready to leave. Now less talking, more moving!"
Long Beach, California
Shortly thereafter, Tara peered around a corner, spotting an armed and helmeted soldier. She braced herself, then walked out in front of him without a care in the world.
"Hey," he said, "hey, you! Supergirl! This is a restricted area, I'll have to take you in for questioning!"
"Yeah? Where's your kryptonite?" Tara asked, hands on hips.
"Uh," the soldier said uncertainly, glancing at the various weapons on his belt. The next thing he saw, very briefly, was Tara's bright red boot. He slumped to the deck, and Tara looked around, then dragged him as quickly as she could into the suite where Willow had deposited her would-be captor earlier.
Long Beach, California
Willow cautiously opened the door and peered back into the room occupied by the elaborate electrocution device, and let out a sigh when she saw Tara waiting for her.
"How's our passenger?" Tara asked as Willow entered and closed the door.
"McDonald's down in the submarine room," Willow told her, accepting Tara's kiss with a smile.
"Was he cooperative?"
"Pretty much. I knocked him out, just for safety's sake. And because his company's damned software kept me from accessing my favourite erotica websites at the school library all through my final year."
"Fair enough," Tara chuckled. "You just wanted some titillation, or was your school library private enough that you could... savour the experience...?"
"Oh, no," Willow said, shaking her head vehemently, "no, back in school I was miss conservative, I'd never have done anything like that. I just, you know... liked to imagine..." She stepped closer to Tara and ran a hand up her side, from her waist to the side of her breast, tickling her through the thin fabric of her top.
"Uh-huh," Tara said, leaning back against the wall, "what're you imagining now?"
"We don't have to hurry," Willow said idly, "they're still talking up there, so we've got a few minutes before we have to go..." She leant against Tara, straddling her thigh and rubbing her centre against her through her shorts. "If you're interested... it's been a whole fifty minutes since I saw you, and... well, visions of being tangoed by Supergirl keep running through my head..." She looked up at Tara with an adorable pout.
"Ooh," Tara grinned. "I thought... Lara Croft was straight?"
"Nuh-uh," Willow said, her voice trembling, "no way... she's just misrepresented in the mainstream media..."
"Ah," Tara nodded, breathing heavily. "So, if she were to be exploring some ancient tomb, and happened to find, say, Supergirl... and just suppose... mmm," she purred as Willow licked the side of her neck, "just suppose... they happened to end up like this, pressed together... so close... and Supergirl asked Lara to make love to her..."
"At the risk of sounding a bit fan-ficcy," Willow murmured, "I think Lara would definitely make love to Supergirl, right then and there." She opened her mouth and pressed against Tara's throat, licking voraciously.
"Oh god," Tara moaned quietly, "well then, 'Lara'..." She took hold of Willow and gently pushed her back a little, just enough for her to slip out from between her and the wall. "So long as one of us is keeping an eye on upstairs, so we don't get interrupted..." She leant over and straightened her legs, giving Willow an absolutely perfect view of her ass as she peered into the snooper's eyepiece.
"Oh, you're so tempting," Willow breathed in anticipation.
"Then be tempted, sweetie," Tara said over her shoulder. "You wanted to find out what I've got on under my skirt, now's your chance..."
Willow grinned broadly as she approached Tara from behind and leant over her, stroking one hand through her hair while the other rubbed her ass through her skirt.
"Hmm," she said to herself, pretending to ponder, "is it... silk? Satin? Lace? Or..." she slid her hand down, then back up, beneath Tara's skirt, pulling it up over her ass, "...ah, I thought so..."
"Perfume," Tara chuckled. She arched her back and spread her legs as Willow's hand roamed around her backside, moving back and forth over the crevice between her cheeks.
"Uh-huh," Willow smiled, "and what kind of perfume, I wonder?"
"Since we tangoed, I've been wearing a special scent," Tara replied, thrusting her hips back to meet Willow's teasing hand. "It's called Arousal for Willow." Willow's hand wove in her hair, holding her gently.
"You want it like this, sweetheart?" Willow asked softly, teasing Tara's sex with her fingertips.
"Stop teasing," Tara growled lustily, "slide those fingers into me and find out just how much I want it." Willow shivered at the tone in Tara's voice.
"You've got such a naughty streak in you," she grinned, taking a firm hold of Tara's hair. She straightened behind her and used her foot to nudge Tara's feet further apart, then without further ado, straightened two fingers and slid them quickly into Tara's dripping pussy.
"Oh yes," Tara whispered fiercely, "yes sweetie, you feel it, you feel how wet I am for you? Come on, yes sweetie, come on, deep sweetie, yes..."
"I guess I'm not the only one who got a bit worked up on the dance floor," Willow murmured, thrusting heartily, her remaining two fingers massaging Tara's lips with every stroke that sent her index and middle finger deep into her.
"Oh yes sweetie, all worked up," Tara gasped, "all hot and wet for you-"
"My little Shy Bunny's such a naughty bunny," Willow chuckled, "she loves this so much, doesn't she? Don't you baby, hmm?"
"I love it, I love you Willow, love you, what you do to me, how you love me-"
"Want to try something new?" Willow teased. She felt Tara shudder in surprise, then arousal.
"Uh-huh," Tara replied, pushing her hips back as Willow kept up her fast pace, fucking her vigorously.
"You're so eager, baby," Willow teased, folding her thumb against her two fingers, bathing it in Tara's juices as she plunged in and out of her. Tara moaned inarticulately at the increased girth of Willow's penetrating digits, at the apex of each thrust, then whimpered as Willow opened her hand once more.
"Want this?" Willow asked once more, thrusting in, and rubbing the tip of her thumb against the tight pucker of Tara's asshole.
"Want you," Tara moaned, fighting to keep her voice down, "in me... don't care how..." She lunged her hips back, almost engulfing Willow. Willow felt the tight opening part over the tip of her thumb, but managed to deny Tara any more than that, for the moment.
"I'm in you baby," Willow whispered, "open up and take me in." She pressed forward, slightly slower than her earlier thrusts, to allow Tara to accommodate the new penetration, as well as the third finger she added to her sopping sex.
"Oh that's good," Tara gasped, "oh god Willow it's so good, I can feel you so much, I'm giving you so much-"
"You are," Willow whispered, keeping her fingers and thumb firmly buried in Tara, rocking inside her, back and forth, "you are baby, you're around me, you're godly baby, so hot and tight and wet and perfect-"
"Need you," Tara moaned, reaching back with one hand to scrabble at the waist of Willow's shorts, "need to feel you, sweetie, please - please baby, I've got so much of you, I need you to come, I need you to come while you're in me-"
"I'm yours," Willow promised, releasing her grip on Tara's hair and pulling her shorts down, kicking them off once they hit the floor. She returned her attention to Tara, wriggling her fingers inside her as her hand and Tara's hips moved as once. Expecting to feel Tara's hand on her sex, she was startled when instead she felt Tara's boot sliding up the inside of her thigh. She met Tara's gaze as she glanced over her shoulder for a second, and smiled lovingly and lustily.
"Take me baby," she whispered, moving her hips back to ease Tara's access to her. Bending her leg at the knee, Tara pointed her toes, sliding the smooth, shiny point of her boot towards Willow's opening. Willow hissed with pleasure as the cool, slick boot touched her pussy, and spread her legs wide, pushing herself down onto Tara's toe as far as she comfortably could.
"It's good baby," she moaned, "oh god yeah, so smooth, slides in so easy, so easy to get you in me, oh- oh god, oh god, oh g-" she clamped her free hand over her mouth to keep from moaning too loudly, as Tara rocked her leg back and forth, fucking her in synch with the intense workout she was giving Tara's pussy and ass at the same time.
"Come on sweetie," Tara whispered, grinning from ear to ear at Willow's arousal, "come all over shy little Tara's nice shiny boot." Willow moaned against her hand and thrust firmly into Tara, her hips shuddering as her pussy gripped its quarry and gushed over it. Tara needed no more incentive to let go of the tenuous hold she had on her own climax, and Willow found herself brought quickly to a second orgasm as Tara's ass clenched painfully tight while the nectar from her sex flowed freely all over her hand.
"Oh, baby," Willow moaned in a hushed, sated voice. Tara's foot slid slowly back down her thigh, leaving a trail of moisture behind it.
"Stay," Tara whispered, reaching back to hold Willow's wrist, "stay in me... like this... just for a little while?" Willow draped herself over Tara, kissing her shoulders, up to the back of her neck.
"Love you, sweetheart," she murmured.
"Mmm, love you too," Tara sighed happily. She took a glance in the snooper's eyepiece. "No hurry, they're still congratulating themselves..."
"Good," Willow nodded, "wanna stay right here... hmmmm. You're a naughty, naughty spy, you know that?"
"Nonsense," Tara chuckled, "I'm the picture of innocence..."
"Uh-huh," Willow giggled, "'shy little Tara...' Sweetheart, when it comes to love, you are Supergirl."
Long Beach, California
Various beach-goers looked around in surprise as as Aston-Martin DB9 Volante drove up over the concrete divider between the road and the beach and headed towards the water, despite being visibly empty. It steered carefully around the handful of stunned sunbathers in its way, paused while its retractable roof folded out and locked in place, then accelerated into the ocean with a splash and a trail of bubbles as it sank.
Long Beach, California
Tara's head poked out of the door, and looked either way.
"We're clear," she whispered, and emerged into the corridor, followed by Willow, just finishing packing the snooper into her backpack. She was glancing constantly at her watch, which showed a tiny view of the ocean from their car's point of view, tapping a button now and then. Her lips quirked up as she glanced down past her wrist, and noticed Tara's boots in front of her.
"Your boot's still kind of shiny, compared to the other one," she grinned at Tara.
"Uh-huh, whose fault is that?" Tara shot back. She started forward, then paused and raised a hand.
"Company," she whispered, flattening against the wall by the corner. "Ready?"
"Ready," Willow whispered in reply.
"In three, two..." Tara counted. She held up a finger for 'one', then on 'zero' leapt around the corner, chopping the first of several soldiers in the throat, while Willow rolled beside her, kicking the legs from beneath another. The third had just enough time to say the "Wh-" in 'What the hell?' before Willow was on her feet, elbowing him sharply in the stomach as she stomped his fallen comrade in the head, while at the same time Tara was accounting for the fourth by way of a lightning-fast roundhouse kick. As one they turned on the final member of the party, only to freeze in shock.
"Crap!" Cordelia exclaimed.