Buffy leaned forward to check the mascara she’d just applied in the bathroom mirror. It was fine, but from the corner of her eye, she spotted Will sneaking into her bathroom. He was grinning when he caught her watching him. She smiled at her husband through the reflection as Will crossed the last few feet between them. He wrapped his arms around her waist while kissing a path along her shoulder. She sighed as the first licks of lust fluttered through her belly. She leaned back against him, keeping her eyes opened so she could see everything he did to her. Being a voyeur on their own lovemaking was a new experience, but one that Buffy found to be very erotic.
Her eyes never left his hands as they seductively caressed her hips. They moved upwards until they reached the thin straps of pink lace hooked over each hip. He slipped his thumbs under them, lifting them so his fingers could slip in to play with the soft curls of her mound.
“So soft…and warm,” Will murmured in her ear. He slid one finger between her slick folds to tease at her clit. “I love you so much.”
“You have to be in a meeting in less than an hour,” Buffy whispered. She put her hands on top of his to try to still his movements, but yet she hoped that he wouldn’t. Their relationship was back to the romantic bliss of their first few days together. Will was attentive and more than loving toward her. He worshipped her body every chance he could, leaving her sated to the point of being lethargic. All she wanted was to lounge in bed with her husband making love, talking, and falling in love all over again.
However, today was his big meeting with David, and the others to discuss the movie deal. It wasn’t something he could miss because Buffy wanted to make love again. Besides, they already had sex when they went to bed the night before and when they woke up that morning. Her body was sore from all the exertions it had been given.
“I want to stay,” Will said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. He circled her clit before sliding further down to tease at her opening. “I want to hear you call out my name over and over again.”
Buffy bit her lip. Her body was singing in response to his touches. He wasn’t going to stop his ministrations. She didn’t want him to. She opened her legs a little more, making him chuckle at her response.
“Will,” Buffy said, clutching the edge of the counter, and dropping her head as her eyes fluttered close.
“Going to take care of you, kitten,” Will whispered. He kissed the back of her neck as he followed her new position. It gave him better access to her wet heat this way. He continued to stroke her, bringing the heat to a raging fire that consumed her entire body. “Makes me feel so good to know that I can do this to you.”
“I love you so much,” Buffy moaned, pushing her bottom back. She was so close to the edge. A few more strokes of those long fingers and she would be flying. “Please, Will…”
He bit into her shoulder without breaking the skin. The sudden change of sensations pushed her over the edge. She gyrated against Will’s fingers dragging out the pleasure as long as she could. The intense waves torpedoed through her already limp body. If he weren’t continuing to hold onto her, she would have sworn she would have collapsed onto the floor.
“Better baby?”
“Yes,” Buffy replied, managing to give a small smile. She wiggled her bottom against his erection. “You’re going to be late.”
“No, I won’t,” Will said, pushing her away with one hand on each hip. “I’m going to suffer until afterwards.” He smiled at her surprised expression when she turned to look at him. “It’ll be all right. I’m a big boy, and believe me I’ve suffered from blue balls before.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“But…but it’s not fair,” Buffy protested. Her hands went to the waistband of his slacks. “I promise I’ll make you come…”
“I want to suffer,” Will explained, capturing her hands. He lifted them up against his naked chest. “For you. Now come on I need to finish dressing.”
“Fine,” Buffy replied, following as he headed to the bedroom. She plopped on the bed, leaning back against her hands as she watched him dress. “You’re going to be late anyway.”
“No, I won’t,” Will laughed. “I’ve got a Porsche.”
“You’ll get a ticket.”
“No, I won’t, Pet. I never have before,” Will said, slipping on his shoes. He winked at her. “Now walk me to the door.”
It was such a wifely thing to do. Buffy smiled, slipping on her robe on the way downstairs. Things were so perfect between them now, she wondered if she should go through with her plan. Guilt gnawed at her, but she ignored it. She had to know. She’d tried to talk to Will in the last few days about his drug habits and Drusilla. He’d been evasive. He wasn’t leaving her any choice but to find the answers on her own. She’d been waiting for this day.
“Be a good boy,” Buffy instructed, reaching up to straighten his tie even though it didn’t need it. His clothes were perfect. No one would know what he’d done not even fifteen minutes ago to his wife. She smiled at the thought. “Listen to them and let Giles tell you if it’s a good deal or not. I’ll be waiting with chilled champagne for you.”
“Mmmh, I’ll be thinking about you,” Will whispered against her lips. He kissed her then reached over to push the button for the elevator. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I know.”
Buffy waited until he stepped into the elevator, blew him a kiss, and then turned toward the terrace. It was all timing. She needed to know that he was truly gone before she started her search. The sun was bright in the morning sky. It made her squint as she leaned over the wall to watch the street below. The day before when Will had made a quick run to the market for her she’d timed how long it took him to pull out of the garage. All part of her plan. Yet it was something else to make her feel guilty.
A glance at her watch told her that his car should be pulling out of the garage any moment. It did. Her footsteps back into their apartment were a little slower. There was at least three to four hours before Will would return. Once she opened the door there would be no going back. Buffy returned to their bedroom and headed for Will’s jewelry case. There was a key in the back of the bottom drawer. She’d found it two days before when Spike was in the shower. It was cold in her hand.
“Just like your heart is becoming,” Buffy said to herself. She shook her head with vehemence. “No, it’s the only way. I love him, and want to stay with him. I have to know.”
Without giving herself a chance to change her mind, she turned the key in the lock, and then pushed the door open. The heavy fragrance of perfume hit Buffy in the face making her wrinkle her nose. The scent clung to the clothes hanging in neat rows. She fumbled on the inside wall for the switch, flipping it and letting the light flood the closet. Her eyes widened as she took in the amount of clothes and items filling the small room. Her bedroom hadn’t been this large at the house she’d shared with her mother and sister.
“Whoa,” Buffy muttered, moving inside. Her hand ran over the clothes as she moved. The materials were soft against her skin, their colors dark, mostly reds and blacks. It was evident that Buffy was the total opposite of Drusilla. None of the clothes was pastels or bright colors. Stopping in the middle, she turned in a circle trying to decide where to start. Her eyes landed on a stack of framed pictures on top of the island cabinet in the middle. They drew Buffy to them. She wished they hadn’t.
The top one was of Will and Drusilla on their wedding day. They looked so happy, so in love with each other, nothing like she thought they would look with each other. Her husband’s first wife was a striking woman, and again nothing like Buffy. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
It was good because she knew Will hadn’t married her to replace Drusilla, but then it could be a bad thing because he was still running from his heart. She sighed, putting the stack down before she glanced around the room again. There was a box in the corner. She knelt beside it. Items had been thrown into it without regard to neatness.
She sorted through it. Letters, she stacked them to one side to read later, receipts that she left in the box, and various knick-knacks that she suspected were once scattered over the house. There had to be something else though. These things weren’t enough. Then it clicked. If it incriminated Drusilla, she wouldn’t have left it in the open for Will to find. It had to be hidden somewhere. Buffy headed for the island. It was cliché, but it was because so many people followed that exact premise.
Stockings and socks filled the top drawer in neat rows. Buffy closed it, and then opened the one below it. She almost whistled, and she never whistled. Actually, she couldn’t even do it, but she wanted to be able to as she stared at the array of panties stuffed into the drawer. All small scraps of lace and satin in a rainbow of hues. Apparently, Drusilla’s somber appearance on the outside didn’t carry over to the choice of her underwear.
Grimacing, Buffy stuck her hand into the middle of the jumbled panties, feeling around for anything hidden underneath. There was nothing. She wiped her hands on her pants before crouching down to open the bottom one. It was Drusilla’s bras. This was the limit. The woman owned more clothes at one time then Buffy had in her entire life. She shook her head as she began to search through them.
Once again, she came up empty. So, Drusilla wasn’t typical in her choice of hiding places either. Maybe Dru didn’t keep mementos of her marriage, affairs, and life. Buffy was sure there was something though. As sentimental as Will was, there had to be souvenirs of their life together. She started to look upwards along the shelves, but she didn’t see anything right away.
“Oh, come on,” Buffy mumbled. “I know Will hasn’t gone through this stuff, so show me all your naughty little games. You seemed to enjoy them too much not to want to have something to show for them.”
She circled around the cabinet to peer at the open shelves on the other side. The purses were neatly stacked together. It hit her then. Somebody had gone through Drusilla’s underwear. The room was neatly organized. Everything but her panties. Will? Xander? She had no clue, but it made her wonder if what she was looking for was already gone. She wouldn’t stop looking though. If there was something to be found…she would.
Buffy carefully pulled the purses out, searched them then returned them to their original spot. They were all empty, cleaned out, until she reached the one on the bottom. In the zippered pocket of the main compartment was a business card for a lawyer in Santa Monica. No notes or anything else to indicate who he was or why Drusilla was carrying it. Buffy slipped the business card into the pocket of her robe for further investigation later.
Next, Buffy moved to the neat rows of shoeboxes stacked in one corner. She looked them over, noting their appearances and the designer names. Donald J. Pliner, Bruno Magli, and Kate Spade to name just a few of the ones Drusilla indulged in. It seemed the women liked to spend money on herself. It made Buffy wonder if Will’s first wife ever shopped for him. His closet was pitifully bare compared to this one. It didn’t matter to her that the man would be happy if he could exist in his black jeans and t-shirts, Buffy swore to go shopping so she could spoil her husband. It might be his money, but at least she would be thinking about him.
She reached for the first box to continue her search. Box after box was gone through, each one restacked in another neat pile. Buffy found it behind the last stack, buried in the corner, stuffed behind the bottom box. A journal, small with a red velvet cover, bent back from a lot of use. She trembled at the thought of what she might find written within its pages. Would she find the key to free William of his past? Or would she find out something she couldn’t live with? Something that would make her leave her husband. She ran shaky fingers over it before opening it to a random page. The date at the top was almost six months before Drusilla died. She started to read the entry, and then wished she hadn’t.
To be continued…