Any means necessary.
When decisions are made with this type of finality, they always came at a price. Buffy paid her pound of flesh by severing ties with and walking away from the clearly lead-astray Quinn. It was the only way.
Buffy then bid William “Goodbye,” removed her mask and exited the room. As with her last two exits and entrances, she bypassed the maze of hallways and effortlessly entered the first room, made her way out of Concentrico, and headed back to the apartment.
The following day passed between bouts of dream-riddled sleep and muddled periods of wake. She remembered very little except William’s recurring presence. His eyes, voice, and possessive touch all made numerous appearances in each state of consciousness.
It was not until a full day later, on Wednesday, that she finally got her bearings back and was actually productive.
Buffy decided to take a run since the forecast called for an unseasonably warm day, a brisk forty degrees that felt like a spring day after months of below freezing temperatures. For the first time in a week she felt a sense of calm and clarity with each exerted breath of crisp morning air. Eating away miles and miles of pavement, she felt the conjoining of Elizabeth and Buffy’s synergies. Now feeling as one, she returned to her apartment.
After a leisurely shower, she stepped out refreshed and prepared for her day of tackling a lengthy list of errands.
Her first stop was the local butcher. While waiting in line, she felt totally out of her element. Her petite figure clad in jeans and a crème cable-knit sweater vastly differed from the handful of plump old women dressed in all black outfits consisting of long, wool winter coats, ankle-length dresses, gloves, and scarves.
Oddly, the distinct differences between them were even more so when Buffy ordered a half-pound of chicken breast. Almost instantly, she heard the murmurs of disapproval. While she waited at the counter, she tentatively glanced back. The once kindly-looking grandmothers now resembled a clearly irritated murder of crows, squawking and eyeing her with contempt as they each rubbed a necklace of black beads with a suspended gold cross while repeatedly touching their ash-smeared foreheads, then their mid chest, left shoulders then right, in that order.
Not waiting around for the fallout, as soon as she had the white-wrapped package, Buffy paid, and with her eyes forward, she skirted around the flock and left. Once outside, she debated whether to head back to her apartment, but her rumbling stomach urged her on to the next stop, a bakery, a must when in the North End. When she entered, the heavenly smell of freshly baked bread made her stomach protest even louder. She was grateful when the line moved quickly, and with a twine-tied white box in hand she made her way to the greengrocers to finish off her shopping.
Later, laden with two bags of groceries, she headed to a local small café, ordered a cappuccino and almond biscotti, and sat at a window-side bistro table. To a bystander she appeared to be people watching, which in essence was true. What an onlooker would not know was that she was surveying the neighborhood and taking mental notes about the locals who were out and about taking advantage of the nice weather.
When she was satisfied with her mini stakeout, Buffy returned to her apartment. She filled the rest of the day with reading, eating, and some light TV watching. She made sure to keep busy; knowing if she stopped moving her thoughts would stray to William. For the most part, it worked, but there were times during these mundane activities when thoughts of him entered her mind.
Buffy chose to end her night early in preparation for future nights at Concentrico. Sleep had not come easily, but eventually she succumbed.
She was standing in the middle of a dark room, nude. She was only alone but a moment before solid arms wrapped around her and held her firmly against the clearly masculine, equally naked body behind her. Every square inch of their connection pleasantly tingled.
Boldly, he started exploring her with a mixture of teasing and caressing touches before she was on her back, legs splayed. Then in a maddening, leisurely journey, his hands drifted from her ankles to mid-thighs. Her eyes fell closed as she gave herself over to the sensation and it wasn’t long until a feathery caress running along her cleft, shoved her headfirst into the spiraling fall of her climax.
Buffy awoke with a silent pleasured cry trapped in her throat and her cunt damp and twitching. With measured breaths, she tried slowing her racing heart. Never before had she had such an intense orgasm. Sure, she had had them in the past. If memory served her, even one or two of them were real doozies. Yet truth be told, they were rare, and never were they solo affairs.
When she finally pieced together some semblance of control, she slid from bed and on shaky legs made her way to the bathroom. Using only the faint bedroom light as her guide, she stripped away her pajamas and dampened panties then slipped under the shower’s relaxing spray. Buffy attempted to ignore her body’s lingering demand, yet in spite of all attempts, her body won out. In the end, she only found peace after steadily riding two plunging fingers to another release.
Once settled, Buffy finished showering, dried off, and after a half-hour of indecisively going through her closet, she finally decided on a simple, yet sexy, jade wrap dress. Returning to the bathroom, she styled her hair into soft waves then tried her hand at duplicating the previous evening’s makeup. When done, she noted the time: four p.m. With plenty of time to spare, she polished off the delicacies in the bakery box and washed them down with two cups of dark Italian roast. With a full belly and body vibrating from the potent combination of pure sugar, caffeine, and adrenaline, she finished getting ready.
Then finally, it was time.
~*~
Buffy made her way back to Concentrico, gave Rick a cursory nod and entered the alleyway. Not long after, she entered the first room and William immediately greeted her. Minus the haunting mask, he was dressed almost identically to several nights prior, yet he was, if it was possible, ever more enticing. It had to be his almost devilishly unrealistic good looks.
“Good evening, Buffy. Care to join me for a drink?”
Or maybe it was his deep, hypnotic voice.
When he placed his hand on her mid-back to guide her to the bar, she decided it was his touch, gentle yet commanding. Even after his hand was gone and the silence stretched between them, Buffy decided it was everything about him that she found alluring—the entire well-shaped William package.
“Excuse me?” Buffy watched his lips move but completely missed what he said. With a teasing grin, William dipped his head, forcing her focus to move from his mouth to his eyes.
“What is your pleasure tonight, wine or something much harder?” With each word, his timbre lowered until the last sounded like a rumbled purr.
His blatant innuendo was not lost on her nor had her usual bodily response to him slowed. Feeling suddenly bold, she gave him a saucy smile of her own.
“Surprise me.”
Rising to her clear challenge, William responded by raising two fingers into the air, silently signaling for the bartender. Neither of them looked away from one another as two shot glasses brimming with a clear liquid were set down. William was the first to lift his glass and raised it in toast. Buffy mirrored his actions, and in tandem they downed the entire contents in one go. The anise-flavored liquid burned a steady path down her throat, and spread throughout her gut on landing. Her body instantly reacted with watery eyes and her throat constricting between coughs.
“Another?”
Noting his obvious lack of reaction, coupled with his clearly smug tone and the need to keep up, Buffy nodded in spite of her body’s clear protesting. The second went down a lot smoother, with far less bodily opposition. By the third, she was feeling the pleasant effects, complete with tingling lips and the release of her seldom-used sexual bravery.
“So is beer pong and limbo next on the agenda, or are we going to indulge in some adult fun?” Even though her question lacked finesse, going by William’s pleased expression, subtlety clearly wasn’t necessary.
William slid from his seat and took her hand to help her to standing. Ever the gentleman, he placed his hand firmly on her back while guiding her to a black door. Maybe it was the shots of liquid courage, but at this moment, she only felt a potent rush of excitement, with none of her previous apprehension.
“Lead the way, Buffy.”
Once more, they entered into a dimly lit landing and stairwell. She carefully descended, knowing full well William followed. Then without any encouragement needed, Buffy boldly approached the next door and turned the knob.
Author’s Note:
The saying Pound of flesh is from Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice, 1596.