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“So,” Tara said, fixing her client with a gentle smile.

“I…..” Buffy stuttered. “I don’t know where to start.”

“At the beginning usually works for me,” Tara grinned.

Buffy laughed. She really laughed. And then she caught herself, which made Tara frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“I haven’t…….I haven’t……laughed….”

Tara said nothing, she just looked at her client kindly. The question was obvious. Why?

“Isn’t there supposed to be a couch or something?” Buffy said, trying to lighten the mood, looking around Tara’s dusty office.

“It’s in the back. I also have a wooden pipe and a monocle,” Tara replied cheekily.

The grins faded after a few moments.

“Buffy……..” Tara said. “Whatever you say here is between us. Just us.”

“Just us?” Buffy whispered.

Tara nodded. “It’s a sacred trust. I’m here to help.”

“Okay,” Buffy said swallowing. “Okay. I…..”

Tara waited, keeping her hands on her knees, biding her time.
“I was raped,” Buffy whispered, exhaling.

Despite herself, Tara found her knuckles clenching until they turned white.

“I’m sorry,” Tara said, resisting the urge to reach across and touch Buffy’s hand or her shoulder. The blonde had wrapped her arms around herself protectively. She didn’t want to be touched right now.

“Buffy,” Tara said gently. “You know this wasn’t your fault. Right?”

Buffy’s lips trembled. Her eyes watered.

“It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault,” Tara emphasized.

Buffy exhaled, trying to hold it in.

I….should have said no. I couldn’t say no. He forced himself on me. I told him he could. I should have fought back. I couldn’t fight back.

“Recently?” Tara asked. Buffy nodded.

“It’s okay,” Tara said, “we don’t have to talk about it today.”

She needs a rape counselor.

“I….I want to,” Buffy said determindly, surprising Tara. “I need to. I want……I need….it gone. Out of me.”

“It’s……gonna take some time,” Tara said, brushing her hair back. “And work.”

And then she waited until Buffy began to talk. Her husband was out of town. He came over. His disgusting proposal. Talking to her husband on the phone. Making the decision. And despite her professionalism, Tara found herself spellbound. And sick to her stomach.

“And then?” Tara said, dreading what came next.

“He……made me….dress up for him,” Buffy said, a disgusted look on her face. “Like some fucking whore. Like I wasn’t a real person. And then……”

Tara’s waited.

“But it wasn’t……….enough. He…..he made me……pretend…..that …..I……wanted”

“Pretend you wanted him?” Tara whispered, utterly shocked inside, but trying to project an air of professional calm.

My god. This guy’s a psychopath.

“He made me……do things..” Buffy said, as a tear flowed down her face.
Tara didn’t ask. But Buffy answered.

Buffy dabbed at her eyes with her palm. “Things I’d never. Things I wouldn’t…….And I just…..let him. How could I just let him…….why didn’t I fight back”

“He threatened you,” Tara reasoned, “Buffy he could have killed you. The most important thing is that you survived.”

Buffy shut her eyes, squeezed them tight.

“He made me say yes,” Buffy said, tucking her chin into her chest, tears streaming down her face. “Before…..and then….when he was…....every time we…..”

“Buffy I’m so sorry,” Tara said, aching to reach out and touch her shoulder. “That wasn’t real. You know that wasn’t real.”

“He made me tell him….. that I loved….loved it…..loved him”

“But you didn’t,” Tara said reassuringly. “Not inside.”

“I can hear myself,” Buffy said harshly, “hear myself saying….…. these things…..to that….bastard.”

“That was for him,” Tara said, quietly. “To make him believe it was real…….”

And maybe to make you believe it too. To make you feel this way. The sick fuck.

“I feel…..god,” Buffy said, trying to master herself. “Ashamed. Angry. God I’m so angry.”

“Sweetie, it’s okay to be angry,” Tara soothed. “I’m not going to tell you how to feel, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to feel guilty about.”

“When does it stop?” Buffy mumbled, shaking her head. “The pain.”

“With time,” Tara sighed. “Talking about it is just the first step.”

“Have you…..told anyone?” Tara asked carefully.
Your husband? The cops?

Buffy shook her head. “I can’t. My husband would…..he’d kill him.”

The look in Buffy’s eyes assured Tara of the fact that she wasn’t exaggerating.

“And I can’t tell the cops. He has……this power over me. Over my life.”

“You should see a lawyer,” Tara urged. “Just……talk to one. You can’t let him do this to you.”

“I will,” Buffy lied. “I’ll see a lawyer. I promise. But right now….I just needed to tell someone.”

“Thank you,” Buffy said. “For talking to me. It….helps.”

Tara tried to give Buffy a soothing smile. She just wished she could do more.

“How about some coffee and doughnuts?” Tara suggested eagerly.

“Sure,” Buffy replied, giving her a weak smile.

“I’ll be right back,” Tara said, rising from her desk. “Okay sweetie.”

Buffy nodded, reaching for the tissues on Tara’s desk.

When Tara returned, she found her office empty. On her chair was an envelope filled with 200 dollars and a note.

Thank You.

“You’re welcome,” Tara whispered sadly, running a finger over the envelope.

Xander lay back in his office chair, idly toying with his pen. He gazed across the hall into the conference room as Spike, seated at the mahogany, engaging with the senior partners of Wolfram and Hart.
His father in law seemed to be looking on with pleasure, he noted, his eyes narrowing just a little. And then he let out a dismissive pfft inside his head. He golfed with the senior partners every weekend.

I’m married to his only daughter. Soon the old man will be gone and that chair will be mine. My sweet Ahn will make sure of it.
And with that he pressed a button that closed his office curtains and locked the door to give him privacy. He put aside thoughts of his wife and work and focused on the woman he truly loved.

“Buffy,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

She kissed me, he thought grinning. I knew she wanted it. I knew it. She’s just guilty about being married.

He pictured her lying on her stomach, her perky pink ass high in the air. Then he was taking her from behind with short, hard jabs as she moaned his name.

“Yeah,” he rasped, stroking himself. But somehow it wasn’t enough. Something was missing. He took a moment, and then thought about Spike walking in on them. He grinned when he pictured the shock and hurt on the face of the bleached idiot.

And then Buffy was craning her head to look at him, a wicked smile on her face. She took his hands from her hips and placed them on her breasts.

“Don’t stop,” she begged, squeezing his hands over her breasts. And then Xander winked at Spike as he began thrusting his hips again. And Bleachboy just stood frozen, unable to do anything but watch.

“Yes,” Xander hissed.

He has to know. I need him to know.

When Xander stepped out of his executive restroom after a shower and a change of clothes his eyes fell upon a woman casually looking around the office.
He took in the spectacular hourglass figure, emphasized by a tight blue outfit that ended an inch below her panties. His eyes trailed down her finely shaped legs that ended in four inch heels.

“Hello,” Xander said, affecting a pleasant voice.

“Mr Harris?” the woman said, in a deep throaty voice, turning to look at him.

Nice, Xander thought, running his eyes over the curvy brunette.
“That’s my father,” Xander chuckled, bringing a half smile to the stranger. “I’m just Xander. And you are?”

“I’m Faith,” the brunette replied, “your new secretary.”

And I’m going to end you.


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