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Buffy was straddling William and riding him for all she was worth.

The black leather chair in Cordelia's living room groaned in protest while the two of them groaned in passion. Bodies naked and glistening with perspiration, pushing and pulling in rhythm to the strains of 'Moving in Stereo' by The Cars. They were the only two people in the room, the only two people in the world. Their pelvises smacked together, movements becoming more and more frenzied by the moment. Her body started to thrum, white hot pressure building in her loins, black spots dancing across her vision...

A loud, obnoxious beeping sound started repeating over and over. She tried to ignore it and continue.

William stopped his movements. "Are you going to do something about that?" he asked her, irritated.


Buffy's eyes snapped open.

The alarm clock was blaring away on her nightstand. She slapped at the snooze bar to shut it up. Rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling, she was still breathing erratically from the dream.

Nine days... Nine days since the party and every night she had that dream. Well, not exactly the same. Sometimes she was having sex with him in different locations and positions, but the basic dream was always the same.

Buffy took the pillow from under her head and held it over her face, screaming her frustration into it. Then there was the blinding guilt she felt for having the nerve to fantasize and dream about him after what she did.

"Argh! Enough of this shit!" She threw back the covers and got out of bed. She had things to do today, torturing herself would just have to wait.





Later that afternoon...

Buffy was ironing and folding her laundry while watching 'Passions' on TV. Since she was just bumming around the house she was wearing her favorite oversized, gray off-the-shoulder sweatshirt (popular in the big 'Flashdance' craze of the '80s) and cut-off jean shorts (usually referred to as Daisy Dukes these days). Her long blonde hair was pulled into a simple ponytail.

Buffy was happy to get a few days off of work at the art gallery, but spending them doing laundry and watching soaps wasn't tops on her list. Still, the housework had to get done sometime.

"How can people watch these soap operas? The writing is horrible. The acting and production values are subpar - -Wow! That Luis guy is really put together! Mama like!"

The front doorbell rang.

Buffy went to the door. With her hand on the knob, she raised up on her tiptoes to look out the small window set high in the door to see who it was before opening it.

'Oh my God! It's him! It's William!' She dropped down to a crouch, hoping he didn't see her. She tried not to hyperventilate, taking deep breaths. 'What's he doing here?!'

The doorbell rang again.

'How did he find out where I live?' Putting her ear to the door, she listened intently, hoping to hear him leave.

A few moments passed.

'Wait, what am I doing? I'm an adult. I should act like one. I did something terrible to this poor guy, he's the injured party, not me. The very least I can do is apologize to him. I'll even feel a little better, it will ease my conscience. I hope he forgives me. Of course he will -- that's what priestly types do!'

She stood and opened the door before she could change her mind again.

He was halfway down the walkway, heading for the street.

"Hi!" Buffy managed to say brightly.

Father Harding stopped and turned around, smiling warmly. "I had just given up. I didn't think you were home." He walked back up to the porch.

He was even more gorgeous than she remembered. His blue eyes were bright and twinkling. The sunlight brought out blonde and red highlights in his brown curly hair. He looked just as good, if not better, in natural light as he did in artificial.

‘There you go again. You're perving on him!’ But after a week of him starring in her wet dreams, it was difficult not to. She chastised herself silently.

The closer he came to her, the harder her heart beat. Its pounding was so loud in her ears that she wondered if he could hear it. Her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies -- make that vomiting butterflies.

'Get a grip, damn it!' she told herself.

"Sorry," she said, hoping to sound nonchalant. "I was downstairs," she lied easily. 'Yep, I'm going to Hell, all right.' She wondered idly if she'd get used to the heat after a while, like in a sauna. "Um, what brings you here?"

"I'm sorry for coming by unannounced. But I thought you might like to talk."

'Talk?!? He wants to talk?'

"Your friend Mrs. Harris, erm, Cordelia told me how badly you felt about what happened and thought you would like an opportunity to speak to me about it."

"Oh, did she?" Buffy said between clenched teeth, trying to keep the smile on her face. She started to catalog the many and increasingly painful ways that she could kill Cordy.

"Yes. She told me you would be home from work and that I should stop by..." He furrowed his brows slightly. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable... I'll leave." He started to turn away.

"No!" Buffy reached out and touched his arm lightly, trying to ignore the tingles that shoot up her arm from the contact. "It's okay. She's right... I do feel horrible, and it probably is a good idea for me to--to talk to you." He smiled. "Would you like to come in for some coffee or tea...?"

'Or me?' she added mentally. 'Stop it! Bad Buffy!'

"Just some water would be very nice, thank you."

The two of them headed into the house, he followed her to the kitchen.

Buffy got started preparing a cup of tea herself and getting him his water. He thanked her politely when she handed him his glass.

Buffy engaged him in small talk. Anything to keep away from the subject she should be discussing.

'You have to stop putting this off. It's time to apologize and start kissing his ass... Don't think about his ass! I can do this! I can do this!' She repeated the mantra to herself. The whole situation seemed so surreal. He was actually here, standing in her kitchen.

She took in a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. "I can't tell you how very, very sorry I am about what I did at the party. I really believed you were, you know, an entertainer. I never would have done... Not that that's any excuse! But... I feel terrible about what I, and my friends, put you through. I'm not like that normally, I --"

He put down his glass and stopped her babble-fest by taking one of her hands in both of his. She found herself looking deep into his eyes, they were so blue and fathomless. He gently squeezed her hand and smiled sweetly. Her knees started getting weak.

"It's alright. It was a mistake, we all make them from time to time," he said delicately. His voice soothing and exciting her simultaneously. She felt like he was hypnotizing her.

"How can you forgive me so easily? How can you be so nice?" she said, amazed by his kindness and understanding.

"Forgiveness is kinda part of the job," William laughed, pointing to his priest's collar.

His smile and good humor were infectious, Buffy's lips curled up into a smile of her own. He let go of her hand, much to her disappointment, and retrieved his glass. She felt more relaxed than she had since the night of the party.


The next hour was spent talking with him about various topics. They discussed where they grew up, parents, favorite movies, books, etc.

'He really is incredible. Not only is he astonishingly good-looking, he's also kind, loving, funny, intelligent and thoughtful.' Buffy was glad that she got a chance to know him better as a person. In fact, he was perfect. She could easily fall...

'Uh-oh! Bad thoughts again! Don't think like that!'

But it was too late, she couldn't stop the thought from forming. She was falling for him. She was more attracted to him than ever, going beyond the physical.

'What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I still want him so bad?' Her heart raced. Not only did she want him to make wild, monkey love to her all night long, she also wanted to wake up next to him in the morning. She was shaken out of her internal freakout when she felt the cup slipping out of her numb fingers and watched it fall to the floor.

"Are you alright?" William asked, looking startled.

Buffy bent down to begin picking up the broken glass, trying to hide the fact that her hands were shaking. "I'm fine. Oopsy! Never mind me, I'm such a klutz." She forced a cheerful laugh.

He brought over some paper towels and handed them to her.

"Can I... help?" His voice sounded a little strange to her.

"No, thanks," Buffy said looking down, cleaning up the mess. 'Wonderful, now he thinks I'm a total spaz too.'

She looked up at him to make a joke about her clumsiness but stopped short when she took in the expression on his face. He was flushed, his eyes glassy, his mouth parted slightly, the tip of his tongue poking out. He looked like he was in a trance. He wasn't looking at her face.

Buffy looked down to where his gaze was directed. The way she was bending over caused her sweatshirt to hang down, exposing her ample bosom to the room.

'Ooops, no bra!' She stood up abruptly, clapping her hand over her chest to cover herself.

William’s head snapped up, trance broken, he looked incredibly guilty and flustered.

"Well... I've taken up enough of your time. I-I have to go! Goodbye!" He turned and walked speedily out of the room.

The front door open and shut.

Buffy stood there for a few moments, wondering what just happened.

"You traumatized him with your big floppy breasts, nice going," she said to herself. Actually they were quite high and firm, but that's beside the point. "God, maybe I am just a big slut... Good girls don't flash priests their goodies in the middle of their kitchens... or anywhere else for that matter."

Buffy sat down at the kitchen table and laid her forehead on the surface. She had been getting along with him so well. But... perhaps it was for the best. She sighed. Avoiding him was the right thing to do in light of how she felt about him. Nothing could ever happen between them...

She banged her head slowly on the tabletop.





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