The Lady In Red by PaganBaby
Chapter 1: Lady In Red by PaganBaby
Author's Notes:
Warnings for: Explicit (at times kinky) sex, adult language and content, sex between an older female and a male teen. Sex will include: Sex in public, anal, oral, voyeurism, exhibitionism, light BDSM, etc.

{Author's Note: Older Buffy + Younger William = Yeah, I've done it before. But it's fun! :D
This is my first fic after a long absence, I hope that my long-suffering ,yet devoted readers will enjoy this as much as my other stories. *g*
I dedicate this fic to Countess Mary. Heartfelt thanks and smoochies go to her for offering to host my new site -- as well as doing just about everything else to set it up for me! I don't know what I would've done without her. Thanks for everything, Mary!}
Acknowledgments:
* Thanks to the lovely and talented Dragonfly Lady for beta'ing me!
** Thanks to Edgehead and xoChantelly for the deliciously hot banners!
*** The song, ‘Jizz In My Pants’ is by Lonely Island -- It’s hysterical! You can find the vid on YouTube or on NBC‘s ‘Saturday Night Live‘ page.
**** Thanks to CallMeKitten for the title and her encouragement, and just for being her sweet naughty self!; thanks also to Brett for his feedback and suggestions -- You guys rock!
Buffy sat at a booth in Pardo's restaurant wearing her sexiest, slinkiest red dress and a brand new pair of red 'fuck me' pumps. Her long, luxurious golden hair hung in loose curls over her shoulders and back. Her tanned skin fairly glowed. Her lips were tinted a deep shade of red -- they were plump, shiny, waiting to be kissed. She was dining alone, but hopefully that would change.

Buffy had gone to the day spa earlier that afternoon to treat herself: massage, facial, mani-pedi, bikini wax -- the works. And she was lookin' and feelin' good. To ease her slight case of nerves, she stroked her black faux-mink coat on the seat next to her.

She had turned 31 last week. It was funny that turning 30 hadn't upset her too much, but for some reason 31 was a bigger deal. It made her really reflect on her life and ask herself some tough questions. Was she happy with the track her life was on? No, she wasn't -- far from it.

Her husband and stepson were out of town on a fishing trip (she pitied poor Andrew), her daughter was spending the weekend at a girlfriend's house, leaving Buffy all alone to do as she pleased.

Riley was her husband in name only. Being with him was an obligation and nothing more.

She'd met Riley when she was an 18-year-old college freshman and he was her Psych 101 professor. He had been exactly what she needed at the time: handsome, sweet, attentive, caring. Her previous experience with men had been traumatizing. Her first boyfriend, Angel, had been great too at first, then he'd dumped her right after they'd had sex. Then there was Parker, who'd lied to her to get her into bed. It was like she'd had a neon sign over her head, saying 'Use me for sex!'. By that point, Buffy was seriously considering giving up men for good. Even though Riley was 10 years older than her, she thought he was the perfect guy for her.

Accidentally getting pregnant 6 months into their relationship sealed the deal. Riley was an old-fashioned, traditional values sorta guy and insisted that they get married. It had seemed like the best solution, and she really had loved Riley back then, so they'd gotten married 5 months before their daughter, Dawn, was born.

When she'd been 18 and he was 28, the age difference hadn't seemed like a big deal. She had liked his maturity, especially when compared to the 'little boys' she'd been with in the past. Now, 13 years down the line, age mattered.

Riley was just barely over 40 years old, but acted like an old man. He never wanted to go out on the town or have any kind of fun. He barely touched her anymore. Buffy was sick and tired of begging him for sex. He was either too tired or just not in the mood. And when he did want it, it wasn't even good. It was a good day if he lasted more than 3 minutes. As she was scaling her sexual peak, Riley was tobogganing down the other side of the mountain. Buffy thanked God everyday for her trusty vibrator, Mr. Pointy, without whom she would've jumped off of a bridge by now.

Buffy wanted fun and adventure -- Riley wanted to spend quiet evenings at home and ignore her until he needed something to eat or drink. Buffy wanted to indulge in sexual experimentation -- Riley wanted to do it in the missionary position every...single...time, when he wanted to do it at all. He was the most boring man on the face of the earth.

Riley wasn't the same lovable guy that she'd married. He'd gotten whiny, moody, and just plain unpleasant over the years. Riley had pissed her off plenty of times during their marriage. He treated his son (from a previous, brief marriage) none too kindly. Andrew was sweet, sensitive and exceptionally smart, but Riley made his disappointment obvious that the boy wasn't an athlete. Poor Andrew just didn't have an aptitude for physical activities. She had thought that Riley would be more pleased that his son was a brainiac, considering the fact that Riley was a psychology teacher. But no, it was Riley's opinion that having a brain without brawn made his son less of a man. The fishing trip they were currently on was a last-ditch effort for them to 'bond' doing something manly, not that Buffy held out any real hope for that happening.

Riley was also too needy for Buffy's tastes. He couldn't take not being the center of her universe, he needed to have her full attention at all times. Even when her mother had been diagnosed with a brain tumor and Buffy had done everything and anything to take care of her, Riley complained about how little time Buffy was able to spend with him. What an asshole.

One thing Buffy had discovered was that she had a knack for martial arts. She’d taken a self-defense course after a friend of hers had been mugged. And she really took to instruction, moving on fast to martial arts training. Riley agreed to spar with her once, she could tell that he didn’t take her seriously. He was a big man, over 6’ tall and broad shouldered, but it wasn’t that difficult to bring even a large guy to his knees if you knew pressure points. Buffy had blocked all of his attempted strikes, then hit him a little harder than she’d intended (though her subconscious knew what it was doing, and wanted to inflict a bit of pain). Riley had moped around for weeks after she’d dropped him to the mat. It obviously chaffed him that his little wifey was much tougher than he’d thought, and he resented that she was a better fighter than he was. She hated how damn fragile the male ego could be.

The absolute worst thing about her relationship with her husband? That she knew in her gut that he was cheating on her. He occasionally had to go away for a week or so for conferences or attending a reunion with his old Army buddies, when he came back home, he always had some curious marks on his body, and he was always a little nervous and cagey if she pressed him for details about what he did while away. He couldn't keep his dick stiff for more than a few minutes for her -- the woman who'd given him a daughter, treated his son as her own, and who'd given his sorry ass the best years of her life -- but he was screwing some strange bitch on the side? Buffy couldn't bring herself to actually ask him the question: Are you cheating on me? Because she knew the answer would be 'Yes' and her marriage would be over. As tired of her boring life as she was, having to make a fresh start scared her to death. The main reason she hadn't left her husband was for the sake of the kids. Buffy's own parents had divorced and she knew how damaging it could be to a kid. And she didn't want her kids to have to deal with Riley without her there to defend them and their choices. Being an adult -- with huge, ugly, complicated adult problems -- really sucked sometimes.

So Riley wanted to have an affair and treat her like a fool? Two could play at that game.

Buffy was determined to take a lover tonight. It would be a one night stand, something Buffy had fantasized about many times. No strings attached, just marvelous, sinful pleasures of the flesh. Some lucky sonuvabitch in the restaurant was going to have his world rocked. She just hoped she wouldn't wind up with a dud (like her husband) or a guy with a tiny penis (also like her husband). Buffy wanted something bigger than Riley's teeny weenie -- She didn't want to have to wonder 'Is it in yet?'. But she would be happy as long as the guy was passionate and eager to please. She was so starved for sex that she would have to be careful not to kill the poor guy with all of her pent-up lust.

Yeah, trolling for men made her a cheap slut, but Buffy didn’t much care. Her life had been devoid of passion, excitement and fulfillment for far too long.

Now...who would it be? She scanned the restaurant, looking for a hot guy (or guys!) that might be up for a night of fun. If she walked out of here alone, she'd take it as a sign that it was a bad idea and just go home to the loving embrace of Mr. Pointy.


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William Giles hated being a waiter. You were on your feet for hours at a time, had to be polite and pleasant to some utter creeps, and got paid very little. But any extra cash was welcome. Some of the customers were good sorts who knew how tough it was to wait tables, so he sometimes got generous tips out of sympathy.

He was 17, due to graduate from school soon and impatient to go on to university. This job was just a way to earn some money to put towards college. It wasn't as if he had a girl to spend his hard-earned money on. William was terribly shy around the fairer sex. He had only worked up the courage once, last year, to ask a girl on a date (Cecily Adams, a pretty debutante) and he'd been brutally rebuffed for his efforts. He wasn't keen on repeating the humiliating experience again. His repressed sexual urges and needs were channeled through his studies and working out like a demon. He had a big squishy brain and a killer bod, but had no one to appreciate his assets. Ah well, he had to believe that the right girl would come along...eventually. Hopefully before he became so desperate that he'd save up his money to buy one of those realistic sex dolls.

It was a busy night at Pardo's. William was hustling to get to a table to clear it, when the tray he was carrying wobbled. His heart shot up into his throat as he struggled to balance the glasses and dishes without breaking yet another one and having it taken out of his paycheck. Two glasses fell, despite his efforts, but they didn't break when they hit the floor (thank God!), they just clanked then rolled.

He swore under his breath and put down his tray, then knelt down to retrieve the glasses. One glass had rolled under one of the booth tables. He crawled over, ducked under the long white tablecloth, and reached under the table for it, then stopped at the sight of a lovely female leg in front of his face. The woman's red dress had a slit up the side, exposing her leg almost up to the hip.

"Hi," he heard the owner of the shapely leg say.

William gulped, moved his head out from under the tablecloth and looked up at her face. She was smiling, looking at him with an amused, but nevertheless sympathetic expression. She was simply the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen: TV, movies, magazines, the Internet -- anywhere. He was captivated by her, staring with his mouth hanging slightly open. He wanted to apologize but no words would come out. Hair like spun gold, eyes like emeralds, ripe, shiny lips...

Buffy laughed lightly, sending a little shiver through his body. "Did you drop something?" she asked.

"Uh...yeah."

She raised a manicured eyebrow. "Looking for something specific under there?"

"Uh...yeah," he repeated, wanting to smack himself to kick-start his brain. He snatched up the glass from under the table and showed it to her. "This."

She smiled broadly, "Oh, I thought you were after...something else."

He swallowed and stood up. He had to get the hell out of here. Just looking at her was starting to make his dick hard. If she noticed, he would be mortified, not to mention fired. "Uh, s-sorry about the legs...glass! Table under rolled fell..."

Buffy giggled as he blushed furiously. Did he have an English accent? It was hard to tell with the short sentences and the stammering. It did her ego a lot of good to affect a man this way. He was acting like she was a beautiful movie star, not a real life desperate housewife. "It's okay, don't worry about it, cutie."

He smiled and ducked his head, feeling like a shy little boy. "Th-Thanks for understanding, Ma'am." He picked his tray back up and made a hasty (but cautious) retreat.

Buffy nibbled at her bottom lip, watching the cute busboy/waiter hurrying away. He had longish light brown wavy hair. Cute little round glasses, which turned her on for some reason. He appeared to be quite attractive when his hair wasn't falling into his face and he wasn't looking down shyly. The shy, blushy thing was also turning her on somethin' fierce. He had a slim build, which was a nice change from her bulky husband, he wouldn't crush her. And he looked young and fresh.

'Hmmm, very cute. Sweet hinder. Wonder how young he is...20 maybe?' She had to giggle at her naughty thoughts. 'Well, just call me Mrs. Robinson! Coo coo ca-choo!' All she needed was a martini, black stockings, and a cigarette holder.

Buffy had found her target.


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In the kitchen, William dropped off a tray full of empty glasses and plates (without literally dropping any of them, thankfully).

He tried focusing his thoughts on anything other than the 'Lady in Red', but it wasn't happening. He doubted he would be able to forget about her, or how hot and twitchy she made him feel, for a long time. She kind of reminded him of a blonde real life Jessica Rabbit -- the sexy, sultry cartoon character (whom he’d always thought was way too hot for that stupid git Roger Rabbit).

He involuntarily began imagining what it might be like to touch that silken blonde hair, to kiss those ruby-red lips, to skim his hand along that tanned, toned expanse of thigh... And it hadn't escaped his notice that she wasn't wearing a bra...

William snapped out of his daze and jumped when he realized someone was speaking to him. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"I said, Will, could you take over table 6 for me? I'm swamped!" Jonathan, another waiter, asked.

"Erm, yes, sure. Table 6, uh, which one is that again?"

"The booth with that hot blonde lady in the red dress. You know I'm up to my neck in crap if I'm giving her away. But I‘m way behind, here."

William nodded. "Um, yeah, I can d-do that for you..." The blonde beauty's table was now his. Considering the way she'd affected him already, he should just tell Jonathan no. But the lure of being close to her again was too strong. He was glad to be wearing black trousers, the tightness in his crotch from fantasizing about her wouldn't be as noticeable -- he hoped.

"Thanks, Will. Here's her bottle of red and breadsticks." He slid the tray near William.

"She's wants her wine before her entree?"

He shrugged, "That's the way she wanted it; you know Mr. Rayne's credo: the customer is always right. Besides, pushing the wine will keep the customers patient with the kitchen being backed up."

"There's only one wineglass. Isn't she dining with someone?" It was inconceivable that the beautiful woman didn't have a dining companion.

"It's just her as far as I know. Look, could you just take care of her please? I don't have time to talk right now." Jonathan rushed off to take care of one of his other tables.

William took the tray, praying that he didn't shake too badly or, God forbid, dump the serving tray on her head. Some of the staff had taken to calling him 'Clouseau' because of his penchant for clumsiness. He would not allow himself to make a fool of himself in front of the Lady in Red.

He took a deep breath, put on what he hoped looked like a relaxed smile, then went to her table.

Buffy looked up, pleasantly surprised to see him again so soon. "Well, hello again."

"H-Hi, I have your wine -- I took over your table. Is th-that okay?" Why was he stuttering so bloody much? He did stutter occasionally, but not as bad as he was tonight. It was her, of course -- she made his insides feel all knotted up and his mind cloudy.

"Oh yes, it's fine with me." Just when she'd been wondering how she could track him down and proposition him, he was her new waiter. It had to be kismet. "Is there anything else under the table that you...need?"

His heart pounded in his ears. A very ungentlemanly picture popped into his head: Crawling under the table, stroking his hands up those fantastic legs, parting them to see her panties -- if she were wearing any, that is. He almost moaned out loud at his pervy daydream. What the hell was wrong with him?! He had never been so love-struck (or horny) at first sight before. He was thinking like a boorish, perverted cretin. His mother would be so ashamed of him for having such impure thoughts.

William cleared his throat, then laughed anxiously, "Um, sorry th-that I --"

"Relax, honey, I‘m just teasing," Buffy said, chewing impishly on a French manicured fingernail. Then, seeing an opportunity for some symbolism, she started on one of the breadsticks, nibbling delicately at a rounded end.

"I'll just...pour you some wine then." He began to carefully fill her wineglass, afraid that his shaky hands would make him spill more on the tablecloth than in the glass itself. At least he was improving a bit around the blonde goddess, he was able to speak in a full sentence or two.

Buffy could tell he was taking great care in his actions. He was so adorable, she wanted to eat him up, which she planned on doing later if he was game. She had to let him know that she was interested in having him service more than just her culinary needs.

William glimpsed at her as he poured the wine. She was smiling at him. Then she did something that completely destroyed any stability that he'd thought he'd gained -- she twirled her tongue around the end of the breadstick, then slipped the tip into her mouth while staring him in the eye.

His mind sped right to the place that Buffy wanted it to go. His cock did a jig in his pants at the erotic picture in his head: the Lady in Red wrapping her glossy lips around his cock, sliding her mouth down the shaft... He thought, 'My god! I actually envy a bloody breadstick!'

William's fingers went numb, the wine bottle slipped out of his grasp, it knocked over the wineglass, which tipped over, its contents spreading out over the tablecloth. Unfortunately the wine then trickled over the edge of the table and onto her lap.

Buffy gasped and jumped in her seat, looking down at her moistened lap, "My dress!"

"Oh god! Oh I'm sorry!" William had never been more sorry in his life. Why did he have to be such a dork!? He took a napkin and began frantically dabbing at her lap.

Buffy got over her displeasure rather quickly. The cute (but klutzy) young waiter unwittingly made her emit a little gasp of pleasure when his hand went between her thighs and patted her uber-sensitive naughty bits. She’d experienced a sweet mini-orgasm at the contact. That silly old riddle occurred to her: What gets wetter as it dries? Answer: A towel. Only in this situation, the riddle would be: What gets you wetter as it dries? Answer: The cute waiter! Oh, she HAD to have him now!

William didn’t realize he was touching her in an inappropriate place, he was panicked and trying to sop up the wine he’d spilled. He was afraid to look at her face -- she would probably be scowling at him.

“Is there a problem here?” a stern British voice said from behind William.

He straightened up and spun around, "Um -- Nothing, Mr. Rayne, sir! There was a b-bit of wine spilled..."

Ethan sighed, praying for the strength to not put William's head through a wall. "You spilled wine -- on a customer?"

"It was an accident, sir! I didn't mean to --"

Ethan gave Buffy his most sympathetic, concerned expression. "Miss, I'm Ethan Rayne, the restaurant manager, and I am terribly sorry about this."

Buffy smiled, taking a napkin and dabbing at her wet crotch. "Oh, it's okay. It wasn't his fault."

A little smile twitched at William's lips, she was being so nice about it.

"Your meal will be on the house, of course."

"Actually, I'm not that hungry anymore. I think I'll just go home and try to keep my dress from getting stained," Buffy said, not able to hide a bit of irritation that her dress might be ruined.

William looked down at his feet, feeling embarrassed and guilty.

Ethan tapped William on the shoulder, "You're done here." He regretted promising his friends Rupert and Anne that their son could work for him. He didn't know what a socially retarded, clumsy git their son was when he'd cheerfully agreed to hire him.

William looked nervously at his boss. "Am I...fired?"

"We'll discuss the matter later." He gave William a severe look that told him to get away while he could, then Ethan put his friendly 'Manager Smile' back on for Buffy's benefit. "Now, off you go," he said, patting William on the back, then making a 'shooing' motion.

"I really am sorry, Ma'am," William said, then turned on his heel and left.

She watched his butt as he hurried away again. "You're not going to fire him over this, are you? It was just an accident."

"I haven't...decided that yet, Miss."

"I don't want him fired," she said flatly. "It was completely my fault."

He furrowed his brow. "How so?"

"I...uh, I distracted him when he was pouring the wine -- I thought I was going to, uh, choke on a breadstick. I think he was concerned for me and took his attention off of his duty for a second."

"Oh... Well, I...suppose I could give him another chance then. Perhaps he would do better in the kitchen. I insist on paying for your dry-cleaning bills, or the cost of a lovely new dress."

"That's very kind of you, Mr. Rayne, thanks." Buffy slid out of the booth, and let Ethan gallantly help her into her fur coat.


Ethan gave Buffy his personal mobile number, telling her to contact him when she got the bill to have her dress cleaned, and called a taxi for her.

She waited by the entrance of the restaurant for the cab to arrive, noting that it was about to start raining -- hard, by the sounds of thunder in the distance and the looks of the inky black sky. She kept hoping that the waiter would pass through the dining room so that she could catch his eye and wave him over, but he must've been busy getting chewed out by his boss. She really hoped that he didn't lose his job over the wine spilling incident -- it was her fault for teasing him with the breadstick. Though it tickled her that she could drive an attractive younger man to such distraction.

Her plans for the evening remained the same: to find a stud to wildly fuck her all night long. She'd picked her pony, she just had to wait a little bit longer to make her bold move.

But should she hang around waiting for the waiter? Her best dress was going to be ruined if she didn't get home and let it soak...

Ah, fuck the dress!


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