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Ch. 14: Doors Opening

Though Willow's advice to embrace her fantasies had certainly given her an excuse to dream till her palms rivaled King Kong's, it wasn't abating her lust in any way. In fact, her desires were merely expanding into other areas of her life. Tired of recycling the short moments she'd spent with Spike, Buffy's vivid imagination began creating elaborate situations from the Xerox machine in her office to the little park bench outside her apartment building to the large rock in the middle of Central Park. For someone who hadn't had sex in months, her brain certainly had no trouble remembering various positions and techniques to keep her pleasured and satisfied.

Work was finally beginning to slow down, and she was starting to leave the building at decent hours--sometimes even before 7 pm. On those early nights, she and Willow sometimes went to Happy Hour, sometimes caught a movie, sometimes just went home. She was seeing Cordelia less and less; her roommate was finally getting acting gigs, which meant late rehearsals and weird hours. She missed her friend but was happy for her success. Today had been a long day at the office in front of the computer, and now Buffy was ready to soak in the tub, read a cheesy romance novel, and let Calgon take her away. Packing up her things, she walked tiredly towards the elevator and began her trek home.

When she approached her apartment door, Buffy noticed a plainly wrapped package she had been expecting sitting innocently on her welcome mat. Feigning nonchalance, she picked up the package and quickly went inside, her nervousness only betrayed by the faint flush on her face.

The apartment was empty, as usual, and Buffy knew that Cordy was not going to be home till late. She placed the package by her nightstand and undressed, wanting to take a long bath. Trying not to look at the package, she filled her bath, let the water soothe her work-weary body, and allowed her mind to wander around her library of fantasies. When she finally emerged from her bath, she felt sufficiently relaxed to open her package.

Seated on her bed, hair still damp from her bath and body only clad in a short terry robe, Buffy opened the parcel. She first took out a large, thick, pink dildo complete with dual-speed vibration, rotating head, and rolling pearls for g-spot stimulation. Then there was the interactive dvd with scenarios where the viewer could choose the situation and the reaction of the characters involved. And then there was the Nipple and Clit Sucker, which would work her top while she worked her bottom. It was a treasure chest of sensual delights. And still the blush would not leave her face.

It was silly, really, that she was getting so worked up over these things. It wasn't like she'd never touched herself or had never watched porn. The thing is, she'd been getting so hot and horny lately that the fingers simply weren't enough anymore. She wanted a cock in her, wanted to feel something touch her, but she was not so desperate that she'd pick up a random guy and fling with him. No, she was still a little old-fashioned in that sense. Her solution: discreet, on-line shopping.

Quickly, she disposed of all the packaging with busty women biting their lips in pleasure, put in the appropriate batteries, and turned off the light. She didn't need the DVD tonight; she knew which fantasy she wanted to visit.

Ding. The elevator arrives, and Buffy enters the empty car. The doors quickly close behind her, and she turns to watch the numbers light up with each descending floor. 12th floor, and the doors open. He walks in, all blond and sexy, and he cocks an eyebrow as he notices that she is alone. The doors close, and he is immediately on her, his lips bruising her with passion and his hands searching for her wetness. They press their bodies against the railing, and she lifts her legs to wrap around his waist and avoid the way the railing cuts into her back. He moans in response and pushes against her, wanting to be closer. Ding. 8th floor. He quickly lets her go and pushes her forward a little, wanting her to hide his excited state. She breathes in and starts playing with her nails, barely acknowledging the stodgy man who enters their car. The car begins to move again, and Spike surreptitiously slides his hand down her skirt to play with her ass while she bites her lip, playing with her nails. The business man is simply reading the newspaper, waiting for the 2nd floor to light up. Ding. 2nd floor. He leaves the car, and the two are left alone again. The moment the door closes he palms her cheeks and bends her over. With his hands undoing his belt and pants, he lifts up his foot to punch at the red emergency button. The car jolts to a stop, and the sounds of heavy breathing and moaning make the air heavy with desire. She holds onto the rail in front of her while her hair falls forward, her ass pushing back against his cock. Pulling her thong away, he thrusts into her. She cries out in pleasure as he begins to fuck her from behind, his large cock sliding easily into her wet pussy. His strong hands capture her hips and control her movements, the consistent rhythm of his thrusting quickly making her fire rage higher and higher. And then before she can fly over the edge, he spins her around, picks up her body, and pushes her against the car wall. The elevator groans with their bouncing movements, as if cheering them on. She instinctively wraps her legs around him, and he finds her nipples with his tongue, sucking the sexy whimpers out of her. One hand is gripping her tightly around the waist, and another finds that pulsing button underneath her skirt. Circling that tight bud of flesh, his fingers dance in tandem with his tongue, and she swirls in ecstasy. Such eddying movements coupled with his hard thrusting quickly shoot her into the air, and she screams in pleasure, her pussy tightening around his cock and willing him to join her. He groans with satisfaction as he fills her completely, gripping her body so that their unity is consummate. Slowly, her legs hit the ground, and their lips touch, finishing their animalistic coupling with human tenderness. Their tongues dance, and their bodies rejoice in each other's warmth. Hair is smoothed, clothes are straightened, and the car jolts back to life. The doors open, and the two calmly enter the lobby, hand in hand.

Buffy's breathing finally returned to normal, her voice a little hoarse from her orgasmic moans, and eventually she found the strength to pull the dildo from between her legs. Her toys had done good, but still she ached for a real man. When she closed her eyes, she dreamt of blue eyes looking at her with affection and love.

***

Another day of work passed, and Buffy slowly made her way towards the elevator. She'd decided not to go out with Willow, preferring to spend some time alone. Why, she wasn't sure, but she simply didn't have the desire to spend another night out at a bar where drinks and cigarette smoke seemed to be her only male companions.

The doors dinged and opened. She entered and then leaned back on the rail, her mind filling with images of last night's incredibly arousing and satisfying fantasy. Being in the place of her fantasy made her glazed with desire, thinking about how the elevator would bounce with their fucking and how the security guards might get an eyeful. She was so enthralled by her own lust-filled thoughts that she didn't realize the opening doors were not yet at her floor. Assuming the car had reached the lobby, she automatically moved towards the doors.

And ran smack into Spike's chest.

The two stared at each other, both in shock and in confusion. Buffy had to blink several times before she could separate reality from fantasy--that Spike was, in fact, standing in front of her.

Spike, who had entered the car without even looking, was completely flabbergasted. He'd just been thinking of her, wondered what the chances were of running into her--when she'd run right into him. There she was, staring up at him with those wonderfully large eyes--when the doors began to close on them. Jerked out of his trance, he quickly stuck out his arm to keep the doors from closing on their relationship once more, and he stepped into the car. The doors closed behind him and headed down again. And still, the two said nothing.

And the doors opened into the lobby, opened and closed, and still the two said nothing. But when the two realized that they were simply staring at each other inside the unmoving car, they each finally awoke, blushed, and both reached for the open door button at the same time. Their fingers collided clumsily, and when the lobby finally appeared before them, they both rushed out, eager to breathe normally again. They took two steps, and Spike reached out and tentatively touched her arm. Buffy looked up at him, her eyes still wide with surprise and confusion.

"Buffy?" His voice was soft, slightly tinged with awe and filled with longing and a little regret. His voice flowed over her body and called out to her.

She could only mumble inarticulately; she continued to stare into those blue eyes and wonder how this had happened, what she could possibly do or say that would be right or appropriate or even simply comprehensible.

"Buffy."

Again, that voice flowed over her and comforted her. There was something about his timbre that made her feel at home, and yet the stubborn streak resented deriving such sensations from him. She tore her gaze away and looked down at her feet, but she could still feel his gentle touch on her arm, his gaze on her face. To see him in the flesh, after imagining for so many nights--her emotions were exploding all over the place and there was barely any room to process how she was actually reacting to this unplanned meeting.

Spike was not doing much better. She was beautiful, more beautiful than in his dreams, and he'd had quite a few. She looked confident and comfortable in this building, which indicated that she was enjoying her time in New York. That made him happy, and he was just starting to figure out whether this was the building she worked in regularly or whether this was merely a coincidence. Merely a coincidence? He couldn't believe that. He didn't know what powers or beings controlled these things, but he held to the idea that someone had worked this out. He thanked that person with everything in him; seeing her again made his whole being wake up again. These past months had been busy, fulfilling in terms of work, but his social life had been limited to books and movies and nights alone in his apartment. And now that she was standing before him, he'd be damned if he'd let her slip away again.

He said hesitatingly, he said, "Can we--"

Before he could finish, she nodded at him, still incapable of articulating full sentences. If he would just give her some time, she'd be fine. Not wanting him to misunderstand her wordlessness, she smiled slightly at him, giving him a little encouragement. She started walking slowly, her nervousness needing some kind of release. And he walked alongside her, still watching her, drinking in her presence conspicuously, though she was doing the same thing in her own way. He smelled nice, faint cologne oddly mixed with his male scent and a tiny bit of cigarettes. So much had happened since they'd last seen each other. She simply continued walking, eventually ending up outside the office building and in the streets of the city. She walked, and he followed alongside. Wordlessly, they seemed to be communicating to each other their mutual desire to be in each other's presence, though they were not quite ready to speak.

They ended up at a small café nearby, and Buffy turned to go inside. He held the door open for her, got a table for two, and then sat across from her. And finally, she spoke.

"Spike." Her voice sounded flat, unemotional, but her eyes belied such indifference.

"It's so good to see you again, Buffy," he said first, wanting to set the tone for their conversation. He didn't want to scare her away, and the emotion in her eyes threatened to push him away with finality. He couldn't deal with that. He opened up the menu and motioned for her to do so as well.

Buffy bit her lip, still trying to sort out her reaction to him. She distracted herself for a little bit by ordering food, but when the waitress had come and gone, she found herself staring at him again, as if his face would help her understand what to do. He was squeezing lemon into his water and setting the napkin in his lap. He seemed at ease, though his body seemed a little tense. Maybe she should take his lead and act like they didn't have sordid history, that she hadn't been dreaming of him for the past months, that she wasn't struck dumb when she looked at him. Yes, she would try to be normal Buffy. At least that would buy time.

"So when did you get to the city?" she asked, her face attempting to look normal. She leaned forward a little, as if forcing her body to participate in the ruse. She looked ready to listen.

He smiled at her attempt at normalcy. Tilting his head a little he replied, "Oh, it's been about two months since I first moved to the city, but then I had to go out West for this conference. I only just got back this past weekend. And you?"

"Yeah, a few months. That's the building I work in, where the magazine is housed. What were you doing there?"

"Coincidentally, my magazine is on the twelfth floor. I know that there are several publications there--I had no idea that yours was. I'm glad, though, because the odds of randomly seeing each other again would be pretty low."

She smiled in response and tried not to acknowledge the slight disappointment that pinched her side. Part of her wondered if he'd sought her out, and his answer, though expected, deflated her a little. Had he thought about her at all?

"I thought about you a lot, after you left. I was hoping we'd run into each other," he said simply, his eyes conveying the sincerity in his tone.

Buffy's eyes widened with his words; it was as if he could hear her thoughts. It was still there--the connection that had burned so brightly when they'd been together, the connection that had made her so happy when they were together, the connection that she'd resented when she'd realized that he'd been with her mother. Her brow furrowed slightly at the turn of her thoughts.

Spike noticed the progression of emotions flying across her face, and his own spirits sagged a little when he realized that the final thoughts had ended sourly. He assumed that her thoughts had returned to their awkward and unpleasant parting. He tried to turn things towards a more cheerful topic of conversation. "So are you enjoying your work? Did your portfolio project turn out okay?"

She immediately brightened at the change in subject, almost grateful that he wanted to talk about their present rather than their past. Spike breathed a mental sigh of relief; if things went the way he wanted, they'd have plenty of time to figure their past out.

"Work has been really good. Tiring, exhausting, and at times annoying, but I really love it." She smiled again, her whole demeanor changing. "And my portfolio turned out beautifully." She lowered her eyes and blushed slightly, the reference bringing a Speedo-clad Spike to mind. "Thanks again for your help. Your pictures were a big hit."

"I'm glad I could help." His smirk draped sexily across his face, but his eyes were trying to convey his delight in being helpful, in having done something good for her.

"No, really, my boss absolutely loved the photos of you. In fact," she added as she leaned closer, as if trying to whisper conspiratorially, "she asked for reprints."

Spike cocked his eyebrow briefly before laughing heartily. "You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all," she replied gleefully. "She got them enlarged and hung them up all around her office." She shared in his laughter and allowed herself to loosen up a little. This was nice, chatting and laughing and simply being together. She remembered this part of their friendship very fondly, and it was nice that they were returning to their previous comfort level.

"So you got to see me every day, every time you were called to her office like a naughty girl?" he teased lightly, wondering how she'd felt about that. It gave him hope, that she'd still used his photos and could talk about that day without malice or discomfort. For him, it'd been one of his favorite memories. The fact that that night had ended sourly was something he tried to forget, and he hoped she did as well.

"I'm never naughty at the office," she replied before she could stop herself. Flirting was harmless, she convinced herself. He brought it out in her, and she hadn't felt this good in months. "But I wasn't the one enjoying you every day. That was Anya. She's convinced that you're a fantasy. Imagine if you walked into the office."

"Is that an invitation?" he purred, ecstatic that she was warming up to him so quickly.

"Maybe," she replied coyly.

She smiled again, making his insides melt and harden at the same time. The waitress came with their order, and Spike allowed himself a moment to stare again, fully take in this beauty before him, this witty and charming woman who'd quickly made him fall. She wasn't exactly different, but it seemed like life in the city had made her mature, become wiser and yet happier. He was eager to find out all that she'd experienced, and he hoped she'd let him be a part of her future. After taking another long look, he turned towards his food.

Buffy knew that he was watching her, looking at her with those piercing blue eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. Part of her felt she should avoid seeing him, refuse to allow him into her life; Buffy tried to make that anger resurface and make its presence known--but she couldn't. Time had worn away those emotions, and she simply didn't have the fervent anger that she'd had before. There was still hesitation, unwillingness to throw herself back into the passion of their relationship, but who knew if he even wanted that? She was content with what seemed to be a returning friendship. Smiling again, she breathed easily and let herself enjoy a man's company for the first time in months.





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