Return to A Woman in Uniform Chapter Eight

A Woman in Uniform

Author: Umgaynow
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters... if I did they would certainly have a lot more fun than under the rule of the evil ME empire... I am only using them briefly for my own nefarious and vicarious purposes... I promise to put them back where I found them when I'm done, perhaps slightly rumpled, but not soiled.
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"Oh Tara... oh God... yes... yeees... oh... baby... ooooooo-oooooooh... OW!" Willow collapsed on top of her lover, trembling and breathing raggedly.

"Willow? Baby? Are you OK?"

The redhead chuckled lasciviously, "More than OK, baby," she kissed the blonde deeply, "But you really need to get higher ceilings." Note to self, no being on top unless we're at my place.

Tara rubbed the lump forming on her lover's forehead, "I'm sorry, darling... now let's see... what can I do to make it up to you?"

"Waking me up like that every morning from now on would be a good start."

"Sweetie," the blue-eyed beauty said with amazement, "You're glowing."

"Yeah, well... multiple orgasms will do that to a girl."

"No... I mean... you're... glowing... your aura... I've never seen anything like it... unless... "


"Willow, do you know... have there ever been any witches in your family?"

"Well... Bubbeh Sophie always said her mother was a machshaifeh... but it never crossed my mind that she meant it literally... who knows."

"Hmm... I think maybe she did... I'm seeing a lot of potential power here... there's magic in you... whether you realize it or not."

"Well, I certainly had a little witch in me a few minutes ago," she waggled her eyebrows.

"Who you callin' little, Rosenberg?" Tara rolled the redhead on her back, kissing her soundly.

"If Bubbeh Sophie could only see me now... not only in bed with a maidel... and a shaineh maidel if I do say so myself... but a shikseh and a machshaifeh to boot... she'd drop dead on the spot... if she wasn't dead already, I mean."

"Ooh, that sounded dirty... was it dirty?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, girl... mmmmm... or maybe not," Willow chuckled, "I said you were a beautiful girl of the non-Jewish persuasion and a witch." She kissed the tip of Tara's nose.

"I see... do you know any other words?"

"Let me think... well... there's bristen," she took the blonde's breasts in her hands, kissing each nipple.

"Oooo... I like this language... what else?"

"How about ketzele?" she reached between her lover's legs, "Alright, so that one's a bit of a stretch... actually it means kitten."

"Ooooh... I don't mind... mmm... really," she purred, nibbling the redhead's ear.

Tara's stomach growled loudly, making them both laugh out loud.

"Someone's hungry," the redhead giggled.

"Well, you know... I've burned off a lot of calories in the last few hours," the blonde smiled crookedly, twirling red hair around a long finger.

"So... whaddya say I buy you breakfast?"

"Willow, darling... it's 1:30... I think the best we can hope for is lunch."

"You're kidding... oh well... good thing it's my day off... um... Tara, baby..." Willow stammered, feeling a sudden basic urge, "Where's your uh... " The blonde pointed at the door.

Driving into town with the top down on a beautiful sunny day and Tara snuggled up close, a hand on the redhead's knee, Willow was still bitching. "I mean really, baby... that's just barbaric... if you do decide to stay, the first thing we're doing is finding you an apartment... you know, some place where you don't have to go outside to get to the toilet and the shower."

"Willow, darling... I love you... but I have to say this... let it go!"

Just as the waitress brought their food, Willow saw Anya and Faith walk through the door. Oh God, Buddha, Allah, Oh Great Mother Spirit and whoever else might be hanging around, please don't let them see us.

Of course, she'd never had that kind of luck, the two women were making a beeline straight for them. She squeezed Tara's hand, "I'm sorry, baby." The blonde looked at her quizzically. "You'll see."

Just then, with her usual tact, Faith blurted out, "Hey Red, who's the hottie?" Tara blushed.

Anya hugged the redhead from behind, "Oooh Willow... is this your new orgasm friend? She's luscious."

Mortified, Willow made the introductions, "Anya... Faith... this is Tara." The blonde waved at then shyly, suddenly understanding her lover's premature apology.

"Hey!" Anya exclaimed, like it was the first time she'd ever experienced a thought in her life, "We're going to The Bronze tonight... you guys should come along... unless of course you're planning on having lots of sex instead." Tara hid behind her hair, suddenly fascinated with her fritatta.

"Anya," Willow warned, trying to keep the steam from escaping her ears, "Oh, tonight? I'm sorry... we can't... Tara's playing at The Espresso Pump."

"Ooooo... maybe we should come with... what do you think Faithy?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Faith purred, openly ogling Tara.

"Oh no, I couldn't let you change your plans," Willow wheedled venally, glaring at Anya's slatternly girlfriend.

Anya leaned over and whispered in her companion's ear, apparently she'd learned to whisper in a sawmill, because Willow distinctly heard the word orgasm.

"Well," the redhead said through her teeth, "I wouldn't want to keep you from your lunch... "

"Oh... OK... never let it be said that I can't take a hint," Anya laughed with a nudge nudge wink wink. That's it... I'm going to kill her... nudge nudge wink wink... who does that? Yeesh! "Nice meeting you Tara... you're really sexy... I can see why Willow would want to give you orgasms."

"Um," Tara blushed, "Thanks?"

"Later Red... Blondie," Faith said over her shoulder, with a wink.

"They're not from this planet, are they?" a mortified Tara asked, poking at her lunch, "Are they always like that?"

"Afraid so, sweetie," Willow growled, taking her lover's hand, "Feel free to put a hex on them if you want... or I suppose you could teach me how and I'll do it."

"I must say it's tempting."


"Damn it... what now?" Willow cursed, grabbing her pager, "Shit... it's the station... sorry sweetie, I have to take this."

"It's OK, honey... go ahead."

Tara watched Willow as she walked over to the pay phone, stopping briefly along the way to make a barely veiled threat to Faith. Ooh, she's so sexy when she's dominant... I must keep that in mind for later... after all, she did like the leather.

In a couple of minutes, the redhead returned to the table, wearing an expression that made Tara think of nothing so much as a suicidal basset hound, "Um, baby?"

"Yes, my love?"

"I hate to do this, but I have to go into work for a while... the Captain says if I don't come in and do the paperwork I blew off yesterday, he's going to bust me back to uniform."

"Aww... that bites... but, to tell you the truth... I really need to get some sleep before my gig and that is so not gonna happen with you around," she winked, "Plus, I just couldn't live with myself if you had to wear polyester on my account."

"Have I told you today how much I love you?" Willow grinned like an idiot.

"As a matter of fact, you have," she replied, kissing Willow's hand, "But I'm not tired of hearing it yet."

"Good... cuz I plan on saying it a lot," she beamed, "Come on, I'll take you home... unless of course you'd like to come down to the station with me... you could take your nap in the drunk tank."

"As tempting as that sounds... I think I'll pass... "

When they got to the campground, Willow leaned over and gave Tara a kiss of epic proportions, "I'll see you tonight, beautiful."

"You're not even going to walk me to my door?" she huffed with mock indignation.

"I better not... you're just too irresistible... one thing will inevitably lead to another and then you'll end up dozing off in the middle of a song and I'll end up on traffic detail."

"You have a point there," the blonde admitted, nipping at Willow's lips, "You'll just have to make it up to me tonight then."

"You got it, gorgeous," she kissed her deeply, intensely, like she needed extra to hold her over until the next time. "Woo and hoo... sweet dreams, darling," the redhead said, running the back of her hand gently down Tara's cheek.

"I love you, Willow."

"Love you too, baby," she replied huskily, "Oh God... you better go... see you tonight, sweetie."

Willow watched closely the entire time as her lover got out of the car, walked to her truck and climbed in back. Oh my... that's quite a view. She shook her head, trying to convince her body that following the blonde wasn't an option. Come on, Rosenberg... work, remember? Think of Bush naked or something... mmmmmm... no not bush, I said Bush... eeeeeewww... right... work. She looked down at what she was wearing and gave her shirt a sniff. OK... home then work... tight jeans and an Elmo skin shirt, not exactly proper attire for a detective... hmmm... especially when it smells of hot girl on girl lovin'. Sighing wistfully, she pulled out of the lot and headed for Revello Drive.

Back at Casa de Summers, Buffy ambushed her as soon as she walked through the door. "Hey hotstuff... ooh 3:30 in the PM and still in last night's outfit, " she teased, "You little slut."

"You got it," Willow grinned like the cat that ate the canary. Well, a beautiful blue-eyed songbird anyway... although come to think of it, I haven't quite gotten around to that yet, have I?

"That's a nice lovebite you've got there," the petite blonde teased, inspecting her neck, "But what's with the knot on your head? Never figured Detective Rosenberg for the rough stuff... although I do seem to remember Xander saying something about black leather."

Willow swatted at her friend playfully, "You're just jealous... and I'll have you know, I hit my head on the skylight." she pouted, rubbing the lump.

"Woohoo... go Will! The skylight? Color me impressed... but not in an outside the lines kind of way, cuz I know that'd make you nuts."

The redhead stuck her tongue out at Buffy and headed up the stairs. "I have to get down to the station, Giles has his panties in a bunch about paperwork again, so if you want to give me any more shit, you'll have to do it later."

"I assume you won't be home tonight?"

"Not if I can help it," she grinned, "Tara's playing at the Pump tonight... I'll be going down after work."

"Going down, huh?"

"Bite me, Summers."

"Don't forget to bring protection... although in your case I'd suggest a crash helmet."

Willow sat at her desk, nursing a mocha, staring out at the rapidly darkening sky and reminiscing about the previous night with her blue-eyed vixen. She was soon broken out of her reverie by the captain's terse bark.

"That paperwork's not going to do itself, Rosenberg!"

"Oh, sorry... just thinking about the case," she lied.

"Any new leads?"

"Not a one," she replied, distractedly.

"Then stop daydreaming and get back to work," Captain Giles snarled, "I don't want to hear about you leaving unless that paperwork is finished and on my desk... got it?"

"Yes, sir."

A couple of hours later, she put the reports on the captain's desk and headed for home, supremely irritated that she'd already missed a fair portion of Tara's show. The way she was driving, it was a good thing she knew exactly where the speed traps were set.

Once home, the redhead bounded up onto the porch, tripping on the front steps, then continued her cursing when her key stuck in the stubborn door lock. Finally inside, after much kicking and swearing, she threw her bag on the sofa and bolted up the stairs to her room. Willow stripped her clothes off, tossing them aside randomly as she searched her closet for something alluring to tempt her temptress. Then she laid her final choices out on the bed, along with a spare pair of panties. "A good scout is always prepared," she giggled to herself, climbing into the shower. She soaped her lithe body, running her slick palms over her still sensitive nipples. Oooh... I wonder what Tara is doing right now... is she thinking of me? I hope I didn't miss the song... she wouldn't sing it without me would she? She better not... I'm going to have to have a talk with that girl.

The sultry blonde stood in the darkness outside the old building, doing her best to blend into the shadows, impatiently waiting for her prey. I hope I'm not too late... she's the one... I could feel it in my bones the minute I saw her sitting there. She'd been at this a long time now... lately she'd been thinking too long... but she still knew a good mark when she saw one. Perhaps a day might come when she would no longer feel the need to hunt, but this was not that day and like it or not, she was what she was. Seeing a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, she waited for the guy coming out of the building to disappear in the crowd, then slipped through the door unnoticed.

Just as Willow was pulling on her boots, her pager rudely interrupted again. "Damn it!" she shouted to the empty room, "I'd like to get my hands on the bastard who invented these things."

It was Giles again. Jesus Christ... now what? Did I forget to dot an I on my report or something? She dialed the number, grinding her teeth while she waited for someone to pick up on the other end.

"Giles here."

"It's Rosenberg... what now? This is my day off you know."

"We've got another smiler."

"Oh shit! Double shit! Have you got anything at all?"

"Not so far... although she's a redhead, that's new."


"I want you to get yourself down there pronto... it's that old brownstone down on Benson."

"I'll be right there, chief... just have one call to make."

Willow quite literally punched in the number for The Espresso Pump, getting her gun and badge out of the lockbox while she waited. Busy... damn it! Then she traded her sexy top for a t-shirt and blazer and her high heeled boots for a pair of Reeboks. Shoulder holster and a plunging neckline... not really a good look... unless of course you're trying to pump a sex addict for information.

The redhead galloped down the stairs, grabbing her keys off the hall table and appropriating Buffy's cell phone. "Shit... it's starting to rain... if this isn't just the cherry on the cake of my day," she grumbled, wrestling to get the top up, "Amazing isn't it... how a day can start out so great and then turn so shitty so fast."

Willow stuck her bluey on the dash, switched it on and pulled out into traffic. A few miles ahead, she had to stop for some shmuck in a semi attempting a thirty-nine point turn, there would be no getting around this one, lights and sirens wouldn't do shit for a moron in an eighteen wheeler. Had she not been in such a hurry, she would have seen to it that the asshole got a ticket for obstructing traffic.

As long as she was stuck there, she pulled out Buffy's cell and tried The Pump again. It rang about ten times before anyone picked up. "Espresso Pump... Gus... whaddya want?"

Nice phone manners, buddy. "Hey, Gus... it's Willow."

"Hey Rosenberg... what can I do for you?"

"Can you tell Tara that I'm sorry for missing the show, but I'm out on a call and I'll try to catch up with her later?"

"Tell her yourself," he replied gruffly.

"Excuse me?"

"That flaky bitch took off after the first set and she never came back... now I got no show... if you see her before I do, you tell that stupid dyke she owes me one more night no charge."

Willow was fuming. "Yeah, Gus... I'll do that... right after I get off the phone with the health inspector."

Damn, where is she? I hope nothing's happened... aarrrghh... can't she have a cell phone like a normal person? What is she, Amish? OK... pull it together... there's nothing you can do about it now... try to remember... you have a crime scene to get to... concentrate damn it!

Gus slammed down the phone, turning to the counter monkey beside him, "Fuckin' Rosenberg... calling me to leave messages for her girlfriend," he said, making fey gestures, "Like I'm her friggen' secretary or something... who the hell does she think she is?" The cashier shook his head. "What is it with this Maclay broad and redheads anyway? Did you see that one at the front table cruising her all the way through her first set... first set... ha... more like only set... anyway, I thought for sure she was gonna climb up on the stage... that's one thing I'll say for the little dyke... when she plays there's not a dry seat in the house."

"Yeah, she's got a great rack."

Continue to A Woman in Uniform Chapter Ten

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