Spike woke the following morning with a huge grin on his face. He let himself lie in the huge, comfortable bed, reliving every moment of their midnight adventure. Recalling the way she had looked, barely clad in her tiny bikini, illuminated in pale green light, he felt himself harden. He looked down at his stirring erection with a sigh.
“You ‘n’ me both, mate.”
Heaving himself out of bed, he padded naked to the shower. His eyes still blurry from sleep, it took him a few second as he waited for the shower to heat up to realise what he’d seen. He backtracked, swivelling his head to face the torn red and black fabric that made a neat little bow around the bedpost. A wicked grin lit his face. So, kitten wants to play?
He took a leisurely shower, washing every trace of chlorine from his hair (he put it through enough as it was) before his hand inevitably wandered downwards, and when he came it was with her name on his lips. Dressing in the usual comfortable, black jeans and skin-tight black t-shirt, he glanced at himself in the mirror, undecided. Then he remembered the way she’d responded to his tender caresses and decided that slicking his hair back would take too much time. He needed to see her.
As a result, he was more than a little disappointed and irrationally angry when she didn’t immediately swoop down to ask him if everything was alright and could she get him anything. He wandered into the living room, a little surprised to find a fully dressed and wide awake Xander lounging on the couch, looking both overwhelmed and not a little infatuated as the blunt, blonde maid perched on his knee continued to talk at him.
She broke off when she saw Spike approaching. “Good morning! How may I be of service? Tips are appreciated.” She beamed at him.
Remembering one of their first conversations in the hotel, Xander and Spike looked at each other, the blonde smirking as his dark-haired friend coughed nervously, blushing. “’m alright, thanks.” He paused, glancing around. “Where’s Buffy?” He was startled to hear a hint of a whine in his voice and it was his turn to cough, mortified.
“No tip?” The young woman pouted, folding her arms. At Xander’s nudge, however, she came out of her sulk long enough to answer. “She’s in her flat making arrangements for tonight.”
Spike looked blank until she rolled her eyes, but it was Xander who answered. “We’ve got some PR ball to go to.”
“And I’m going to be Xander’s escort!” Anya broke in, beaming again. Spike cocked an eyebrow, grinning. His friend blushed again.
Trying to bite back a sigh of disappointment, Spike resigned himself to a day without Buffy. It didn’t occur to him that she lived just down the hall until lunchtime, when Wesley pointedly announced that he was just popping over to see if she would be joining them for lunch to discuss the evening ahead. Spike almost tripped over his chair as he leaped up.
“I’ll go. Wanted to ask her ‘bout that anyway.” Cursing himself for acting like a pimply high school nerd with his first crush, he sauntered out the door, relieved to see that Harmony still simpered from her office doorway as he passed, though he had no interest in her at all. Oh yeah, I’ve still got it. Just act cool, Spike.
That plan went out the window the minute she opened the door to her apartment. She was dressed in her soft grey suit, but her cream, silk blouse was untucked, she wore no tights or shoes and her blonde hair hung in soft waves over her shoulders. He watched as her perfect lips moved, eyes glazing over as they dropped to the gentle swell of her breasts.
“Spike... Spike... Spike!”
“Wha-?”
She rolled her eyes, her lips twitching as she tried to hold back her grin. “I said, what do you want? Kinda busy here.”
He finally regained his composure, though his hands still itched to reach out and tear away the clothing that blocked her body from his sight. “Can I come in, pet?”
She eyed him warily before pulling the door open, stepping aside to let him in. He studied the room intently, a little surprised by its somewhat limited space but almost groaning in pleasure as her vanilla scent washed over him. Her flat seemed so homey, so lived-in, that her personality seemed to seep from every pore of the room, despite the fact that she’d barely been in the hotel longer than he.
The door closed behind him and she led him into her sitting room, curling up in one corner of the couch, hastily rearranging the papers spread across the coffee table. He took a moment to stare out at the view before turning, settling himself on her spacious couch and pulling her onto his lap. She squeaked in objection, but went silent when his lips were crushed against her own as he devoured her, reasserting his feelings for her through his touch.
When he finally pulled back, her suit looked slightly more crumpled and his chest was heaving as he panted for breath. She gave him a dazedly impressed looked. “Wow. What was that for?”
“Be my escort to the ball tonight?” He winced; blurting it all out in one go was not what he’d had in mind. She bit her lip, obviously undecided, and he rushed on. “Anya’s going with Xander, so you’d have some girly company an’ you could jus’ say it was part of your work, that you’re keepin’ an eye on us. Nobody’d know that you’re really my girl.”
Buffy had been unsure up until that point. Then her eyes softened and she smiled shyly. “Is that what I am? Your girl?”
He pressed his lips against hers again, gently this time, exploring her mouth with a lingering tenderness that made her melt. He drew back until they were only inches apart, his breath warm on her lips. “Christ, Buffy, do you even have to ask?”
By the time Spike left the flat half an hour later, he was grinning smugly, he knew every detail of their evening plan and he left behind him a very flustered and thoroughly aroused Buffy. He couldn’t wait for the day to end.
At nine o’clock that same evening, Spike and Xander waited nervously in the hotel’s private foyer, both pacing back and forth in counterpoint to one another. At five past, the elevator bell chimed merrily and both men swung around, hearts pounding. Xander’s breath exploded outwards as Anya emerged, looking uncharacteristically shy.
Her blonde hair had been curled into loose ringlets and was loose, softening her subtly made-up face. Her body was encased in a tight, dark green dress made of satin that clung to her rounded curves, ending just above her ankles to reveal elegant shoes with thin straps that were twined around her ankles. The halter neck gave the illusion of severity, but the split that revealed one leg to mid-thigh and the way the back seemed to be missing completely from the dress made it fashionably daring, though not indecent.
Spike, however, saw none of this, because Buffy had stepped into the room just behind her outspoken friend. She wore a dress the same vivid colour as her bikini the night before, and just the thought made his cock begin to harden. The silky material gripped her soft curves, emphasising the graceful femininity of her figure. It was strapless, the top half a fairly rigid bustier with a sweetheart neckline that pushed her breasts up and together. The skirt dropped away from that, moulded to her body like a second skin, reaching to the floor. A split up the side bared her slender, tanned thigh, her legs made longer by simple, strappy red shoes.
There is absolutely no way she is wearing knickers with that sinful dress.
He had to hold back a moan as she approached, her elegantly upswept hair gleaming in the light as she wrapped a sheer, gauzy crimson scarf around her neck and rested one hand lightly on his arm. She smiled up at him hesitantly, but seeing his look of stunned arousal, she relaxed and smiled, her red-painted lips drawing his gaze.
“Do I look that bad?” Her voice was softly teasing.
“You look incredible, kitten.” His eyes suddenly turned hungry to match his deep, husky voice and he leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. “I just want to throw you over my shoulder, carry you upstairs and fuck you senseless.”
Her own eyes darkened, but his arm supported her as they glided out to the limousine awaiting them. Jay the driver gawped at Buffy for a moment before opening the door for her, winking at Spike as he passed. Anya and Xander settled opposite them and the engine purred to life, smoothly carrying them out into the twilight. Spike kept Buffy’s hand locked in his as they exited the car and swept into the ballroom.
The little blonde couldn’t help but stare at the scene before her. They stood on a balcony-like platform with two huge marble staircases leading down to the main floor from either side. The vast room was lit by enormous chandeliers, their glow falling on one of the most extravagant displays of wealth Buffy had ever seen. Dresses in all shapes and colours glittered like the jewels adorning their wearers under the light, the gentlemen no less beautifully clothed, though they almost all wore black. She suddenly felt out of place.
Somehow Spike sensed her nervousness, pulling her into his side. Reassured, she lifted her head and they glided serenely down onto the main floor. The evening passed in a blur, the only bits that stood out in her memory afterwards the times she danced with Spike, feeling his muscular body pressed against hers, his warmth seeping into her skin and making her heart beat faster.
All went well until about half past twelve. Spike and Buffy were just leaving the dance floor when a couple approached them. The woman was tall and slender, but there was a harshness about her face that made Buffy’s hackles rise. Her partner was a giant man with a vacant expression, his big brown eyes friendly but slow. They made a striking pair.
Unable to bring herself to smile, she was about to turn away when Spike stiffened beside her, his fingers clenching on her waist. She winced, but he didn’t seem to notice. When she looked up at him, she found his face suddenly pale and tight, his eyes glittering with loathing and pain. She rubbed his back soothingly and his jaw muscles relaxed slightly, but his eyes narrowed on the woman.
Buffy turned back as the stranger spoke, her upper-class drawl loaded with cruel mirth. “Hello, Spike. How have you been? Well, I hope?”
His voice was flat and cold as his fingers tightened painfully on her hip again, digging into her flesh. “Hello, Lilah. This your latest customer? Or haven’t you spread your legs for him yet? I always wondered how you could afford those expensive dresses.”
The brunette woman suddenly stopped smiling, turning to Buffy. “Is this your latest conquest, William? She can’t have spread her legs for you yet, you’re still with her after all.”
The lawyer’s companion gave a confused frown and muttered something to his partner. She sighed and nodded, patting him on the head like an overgrown puppy. Once he’d turned and shambled away, she returned to the attack, reminding Buffy of some poisonous snake, fangs bared evilly.
“You could do better, sweetheart.” It took a while for Buffy to realise that Lilah was addressing her. “William here is a nice boy, but you could only ever use him for his money. He’s the most appalling fuck, and he’s not the most intelligent man either; conversation gets a little stilted after a while.” She smiled at Spike, eyes narrowed spitefully. “Really, he’s rather inadequate.”
Buffy returned the smile to hide her flinch as the fingers gripping her waist closed so tightly she felt her eyes sting. Blinking back tears, she replied in a sweetly patronising voice. “Really? Weird. He’s one of the in bed that I’ve ever had. I wonder if it was something you were doing wrong?” She smiled beautifully. “Though it looks like you’re practising. Good for you!”
Lilah’s face tightened angrily. “This is what you stoop to after me? You’re pathetic.” She spat at Spike, rage making her face ugly. “Couldn’t have what you really wanted, so you picked up some cheap whore from the gutter. You make me sick.”
Spike snarled something unintelligible and his fists clenched, but Buffy laid a restraining hand on his arm. Lilah sneered, but the little blonde stepped forward, prying Spike’s now-rigid fingers away from her waist. She turned to him, standing on tiptoes to murmur in his ear. “Don’t make a scene; this is a PR event, and you really don’t want bad press. Go and find Anya and Xander and get out to the limo. I’ll see you there in a minute.”
He looked like he was going to argue, but she narrowed her eyes threateningly. She could almost hear his teeth grinding as he spun and stormed off. She turned to a triumphantly smirking Lilah, smiling sweetly. Her voice, however, was low and menacing.
“My name’s Buffy Summers, Spike’s suite overseer at Hotel Elise. If you come near my client with harmful intent, physical or otherwise, ever again, I’ll have you arrested for harassment and the Hotel will sue you. I don’t care if you’re the best lawyer in LA; once we’re through with you, nobody will take your sleazy ass.” She paused, looking the taller woman up and down scornfully. “Though it looks like everybody already has.”
She turned and stalked away, leaving a furiously mouthing Lilah behind her. They made the limo ride back to the hotel in silence and she left Spike with a gentle goodnight kiss, trying to ease the pain that had swept over him. She never told him about the finger-shaped bruises that didn’t fade from her hip until several days later.
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