Without any further thought or discussion on the matter, Buffy and Quinn moved directly into the let-bygones-be-bygones portion of their disagreement. Complete with the sharing of many drinks and stories of mutually comical, hellish past dates. Between the sidesplitting laughter and several rounds of drinks, Buffy needed a little girl’s room break. With the lift of Quinn’s glass and a bid of “Godspeed,” she set off.
Buffy’s mounting frustration was near the breaking point by the second time she’d passed the same two patrons perched at the bar. In spite of her increasingly nagging bladder, based on principle alone, she refused to ask for directions. However, by the third trip around the endless maze and said patrons’ increasingly wary looks, she swallowed her pride and headed back to the table to ask Quinn the way.
When she arrived, there was clearly no mistaking the sight before her. Yet it shocked her all the same.
One of Sebastian’s hands was firmly wrapped around Quinn’s wrists, suspending her arms taut while his other hand was below the table, skillfully eliciting pleasure from her body.
In the past, Buffy had always considered herself more sexually tactile than visual. There was no denying a well-built man, fresh from the shower and wearing only a towel wasn’t pleasing to the eye. It just never really did anything for her. Taking this a few steps further, she firmly believed a voyeur walked the proverbial fine line between perversion and breaking the law.
Nevertheless, despite her rigid beliefs and earlier discomforts, Buffy remained rooted to the spot as she watched them openly.
When Quinn cried out in bliss, Sebastian’s mouth released her throat, seemingly wanting to bear witness to his lover’s pleasure, or so Buffy believed. Instead, he slowly turned from Quinn’s breast, leered over his shoulder, and flashed a devious smirk. This was all that was needed to shake Buffy from her daze, thrusting her into the reality and hard truths of how she reacted, and far worse still, Sebastian knowing and reveling in her realization.
Unable to focus on anything else but getting away, she fled. Without direction, Buffy moved farther into the club, until she noticed a door and entered. Just as the entrance, it was dark only momentarily before opening into another enormous room. It was almost identical to the one she’d left, except the secluded tables were replaced by black leather sofas here in the open floor plan.
Hoping this distraction would help, she resumed her search for the ladies’ room while trying to collect her frazzled nerves and subduing the internal war between lust and shame. Then out of the blue, a rich, sexy voice interrupted her circuit around the room.
“If you don’t mind me saying, you look sorta lost.”
Buffy stopped mid-stride and turned. Seated alone on a sofa was a man, late twenties perhaps early thirties, with shocking platinum hair, model enviable cheekbones, full lips, and the most striking blue eyes. Simply put, he was divine.
“I’m not sorta lost, I’m more—” Her strong tone belied the instant waning of her strength caused by this man’s presence.
“Really lost?” The hint of a teasing smile further disarmed her usually guarded disposition.
“That noticeable, huh?”
“Allow me to show you where you need to be.” He stood fluidly and was now only an arm’s length away.
“Yes—please.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper, his sudden closeness intensifying the effect he already had on her. Then with a mental shake, she focused.
“Um, yes, directions to the ladies room, please?”
“You’re almost there. Don’t have to wait much longer.” His definitive words left no room for doubt or question. Buffy nodded her thanks and with a parting glance, headed the way he directed.
After taking care of business, Buffy left the restroom and headed toward the exit. Her intention was to go back to the other room with Quinn. However, this came at the risk of seeing Sebastian again. Normally, especially in her line of work, feelings of trepidation were almost non-existent.
Nonetheless, his presence made every warning bell sound and her nerves stand on edge. That, in combination with Quinn’s unwavering beliefs, led her to feel that nothing was going to be accomplished tonight. Her decision was easily made. She was investigating this room alone.
Replacing all apprehensions with steadfast determination, she veered from her previous path and made her way toward the bar. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the man from earlier, sitting on the same sofa. Her initial intention was to pass him by. That was until she devised a truly better plan, using him as a cover while staying in this room.
“Would you care to join me for a drink?”
He silently agreed with a soft smile and a nod, and accompanied her to the bar. Surprisingly, they naturally fell into a steady conversation, and even after such a short period of time, she felt fairly comfortable with him. She learned his name was William Francis Allen. He was born and raised in England and ever since, had lived and traveled all over the world.
As the conversation and drinks flowed, Buffy all too soon forgot her main objective and focused more on her company. Then with last call, she suddenly remembered herself.
“Oh, I should really be getting back to my friend. She’s probably wondering where I am.”
Buffy opened her clutch to pull out her half of the bill. With a tender hand, William stopped her and shook his head. Without another word, she closed the bag’s clasp and stood.
“Thanks for everything. Especially earlier, with the whole saving this damsel in distress.”
“Hardly. Like I said before, you were lost but have now found your way.”
Matching his soft smile, Buffy started walking away. Within three steps she turned back.
“I was wondering—” Her cheeks blushed with renewed shyness.
“I’ll be here. Good night and sweet dreams, Buffy.”
~*~
Still wearing a soft smile, Buffy left and returned to the other room. When she reached the table, she was once again a spectator to the same scene. Yet this time, she allowed every blissful cry to wash over and seep into her very core.
She watched transfixed as shoulder-length brown hair synched with a leather tie morphed into short shocking platinum, and it was now William’s blue eyes she stared into. When she looked past his wolfish grin, her eyes widened when it was actually her, who was the receiver of his skilled touch.
Buffy woke with a start. Between several ragged breaths, she tried slowing her racing mind and ignoring the throbbing between her thighs. It seemed in spite of her Herculean efforts, ever since she’d met William, he’d consumed her every thought. Now, he was even in her dreams.
Last night after their brief goodbye, she returned to the table she’d shared with Quinn. Gratefully, unlike earlier, Quinn was alone. Even though judging by her freshly tousled appearance, it hadn’t been the case very long.
Buffy apologized for her prolonged absence, blaming it solely on investigating, not on the pleasant distraction in the form of William. Her explanation hardly mattered anyway; Quinn’s attention was completely elsewhere. That was until Buffy took matters into her own hands and shook Quinn from her lusty stupor.
With some persuasion, she got them both outside and, after hailing separate cabs, she informed the still-befuddled Quinn they would catch up tomorrow. When Buffy arrived back at her apartment, she stripped down to her underwear and, exhausted, fell into bed. It spite of her drained mental state, it took another several hours of tossing and turning before she finally fell into a fitful sleep.
~*~
Returning her thoughts of the here and now, Buffy had finally calmed and glanced at the clock. Today had come and gone and it was tonight. She figured, with no missed calls or messages left on her cell, either Quinn must’ve forgotten to call or like her, had just awakened.
With a final deep, cleansing breath, Buffy pushed away all thoughts of William, slid her weary body from bed, and headed to the bathroom for a much-needed cold shower. She really needed to get her head on straight, especially with another long night ahead of her at Concentrico.