Chapter 2
The next day, Buffy sat in front of the mirror at the Casablanca Salon & Day Spa in Sherman Oaks. Having met the hair stylist that Cordelia had booked her in with, she was a little wary. His name was Andrew and he was a total queen.
“I gonna make you look like as beautiful as Princess Leia,” he declared as he mixed together some hair colorant.
Buffy frowned. Just what she needed – a Star Wars freak doing her hair. She looked over at Cordelia, who sat on the sofa reading a magazine and raised her eyebrows.
“Trust him, he’s magic,” she whispered.
This was turning into all-out spa day, Buffy realized. And even though she was used to being totally low maintenance, it was nice having the opportunity to be pampered. Already she and Cordelia had each had a facial, mud wrap and full body massage and at least in body, Buffy was feeling totally relaxed.
She watched as Andrew applied the colorant to her hair and then covered each section with foils. When he had finished, he put her under heat to speed up the coloring process and after about half an hour, he led her over to the sink for the shampoo girl to remove the foils and wash out the chemicals. When she was treated to a hair massage, Buffy decided she could really get used to this.
Next she was led back to her previous seat and Andrew began work on styling her hair. She had to suppress an almost horrified gasp as she watched him cut her normally waist length hair to just below her shoulders. He then added long layers and finished by blow drying it and using curling irons to create tousled curls.
Looking at the finished job, Buffy could not believe her eyes and she ready to get on her knees and worship Andrew. Her hair looked incredible. The layered style made it feel almost weightless and the curls made it look sexy. And the color. Andrew had chosen two different shades of blonde – one a warm honey color and one a cool platinum color, a bit like Spike’s – which looked really great together.
“Wow, Buffy, you look amazing,” Cordelia said. She’d always known her friend was beautiful, but she just needed to be shown how to make the most of her looks.
“Thanks for convincing me to do this, Cordy,” Buffy said.
Two hours later, the pair finally left the salon and headed into the city to meet Faith and Anya for lunch. After Andrew had finished, Buffy had been treated to both a manicure and a pedicure and then she had had a session with the salon’s make up artist who had showed her what the best colors were for her and how to apply them.
When Faith and Anya saw Buffy they were both speechless, which for Anya was highly unusual. Like Cordelia, both had always thought that Buffy underrated her looks, especially as she had always been unwilling to experiment with her hair and make up.
“Listen,” Faith said to Cordelia and Anya as everyone cleared their plates of food. “We’ve all got a free afternoon. I say we take Buffy shopping. Get her some new clothes to match her new look.”
“I don’t think so, Faith,” Buffy spoke up. “I mean this morning at the salon has already put a nice dent in my bank balance. I really can’t afford new clothes.”
“Buffy, Faith’s right,” Cordelia told her. “You can’t have the hair, make up and nails done and then wear your old clothes. And if you’re worried about money, I’m happy to help you. I can get discount at almost every shop in the city. A perk of being the only daughter of the CEO of Chase Media.”
“I dunno…” Buffy was almost convinced but still a little hesitant.
“Come on, Buffy,” Anya piped up. “Once Spike sees you in a skirt above the knee, he’ll be begging to give you orgasms.”
Both the thought of Spike on his knees begging for her attention and the thought of him giving her orgasms – which even considering his cruel words yesterday was still something she wanted – removed all of Buffy’s doubt.
“Ok, let’s do it.”
Monday morning dawned bright and early and though Buffy never usually had a problem getting out of bed, on this particular day, she had even less reason to want to stay beneath the duvet.
She quickly showered and then headed for her wardrobe to pick out something to wear. She and her three friends had spent the whole of Saturday afternoon choosing clothes for her to buy.
Smiling to herself, she selected a black sweater dress over a white shirt and teamed it with a red silk scarf and black suede boots. The outfit clung to her slender curves and emphasized her high firm breasts and she left an acceptable number of the shirt buttons undone to allow for a hint of cleavage. A black jacket and matching purse completed the look.
Before getting dressed she donned a black lace bra and matching shorts. Buffy had traditionally been a white cotton type of girl and had never bought lacy underwear in her life, but her friends – namely Anya – had convinced her to get some new lingerie and Buffy had decided that it made her feel even more confident knowing she had sexy undergarments beneath her clothes.
Next she took the curling irons she had also purchased and styled her hair before adding light make up – ivory shadow on her eyelids, rose blush on her cheekbones, dark brown mascara on her lashes and nude gloss on her lips. She also swapped her glasses for the contact lenses she also had but rarely wore.
After eating breakfast, she left her apartment in Riverside to walk to the bus stop to catch the bus into the center of the city. She always caught the bus to work. Her friends had often tried to convince her to take the metro because it was quicker and easier, but deep down Buffy had always been too scared. She had heard many horror stories about people being mugged, assaulted or raped on the underground metro stations.
But today, for some reason, that thought didn’t seem to bother her so much. Maybe it was an extension of her new look, but she felt confidence oozing from her pores. Almost overnight, she no longer felt like the shy girl next door who grew up in the small suburban town of Sunnydale and who still felt significantly out of place in the bright lights of Los Angeles, despite having lived there for almost three years.
When she reached the bus stop, she continued walking until she found the metro station. She queued to buy a ticket and then went through the turnstiles before heading downstairs to the platform. Five minutes later, she emerged into the bright sunshine, just a few minutes walk from office block where Spike Giles operated business. On her way, she passed Starbucks and on a whim bought an iced mochacinno instead of her usual skinny decaf.
When she arrived at the office, she was relieved to find that Spike was not yet there. She took a quick trip to the restroom to check on her hair and reapply her lip gloss, before heading back to her desk. She then printed off copies of the emails that had arrived in Spike’s inbox over the weekend and took them along with some papers from him to sign and a cup of strong black coffee – the way he liked it – into his office so they would be waiting on his desk for when he arrived.
Spike was late. And it annoyed him because he was never late. Stepping out of the elevator, he headed down the corridor to his office.
He was surprised to see that Miss Summers had also not yet arrived. That’s odd, he thought to himself. His assistant was always perfectly punctual and organized – one of the reasons why he’d hired her – and Spike had often thought it would be possible to set your watch by her.
Not bothering to dwell on it, assuming she, like him, was just running late – after all it happened to everyone, he walked past her desk and opened the door to his office, stopping dead at the sight that greeted him.
A woman was standing with her back to him, bending slightly to place something on his desk. She was wearing a black dress that clung enticingly to her perfect ass and because of the way she was bending, Spike caught a glimpse of a pair of slim tanned legs. Her hair was another thing entirely – long blonde curls that he was just aching to run his hands through. His cock hardened at the sight of her and he knew he just had to find out her name and get her to agree to let him take her to dinner.
“Excuse me, can I help you?”
The woman turned and he found himself looking into his assistant’s incredible green eyes.
“Good morning, Mr. Giles.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks for the reviews, guys! Much appreciated! Also I just wanted to state that through this story I don’t mean to imply that blonde hair looks better than brunette. I myself have naturally mousy hair and have been both blonde and brunette (though currently blonde) and I think both hair colors are as nice as each other. The only reason I am changing Buffy’s hair from brown to blonde is because SMG dyed her hair blonde for the show. Anyways hope you all love this next chapter and continue to review.