Willow stood outside Tara's door and blew on her open palm and lightly inhaled; checking to make sure her breath was still minty fresh. After a few gentle raps, the door swung open and Willow was greeted by the warm scent of vanilla and...
(Ohgod. She's wearing a skirt, she's wearing a skirt, she's wearing a skirt. Remember our pact, Rosenberg? No drool.)
Tara moved to the side and smiled wide, allowing room for Willow to enter her apartment. "Come in."
Willow stepped over the threshold and quickly took in her new surroundings; an eclectic array of artwork hung on the walls, a vibrant plant cascaded from a large hook in the ceiling, and a gray kitten with white paws was playing with a plastic do-dad in the corner of the room. Her red, Converse All Stars squeaked as she moved across the hardwood floor, and she shifted nervously on her feet--desperately trying not to ogle the beautiful woman standing before her. If she didn't know any better she'd guess that the button on Tara's shirt, right "there" above her cleavage, was purposely left undone.
The more Willow drank in of the blonde's curvaceous body, the less she was able to vocalize, yet she somehow managed to string a few words together. "Hi, Tara." And then, like a little boy handing the girl next door a frog he'd just found, Willow thrust the colorful bunch of daisies to Tara. "I got you flowers."
(She's smiling at you. Would you just look at that smile! And oh, would you look at...)
(Okay, you're so not looking at her smile anymore.)
She stood there slack-jawed, unable to tear herself away from the lily-white breasts laid before her. "Yeah?"
Tara moved closer, and with the side of her forefinger gently lifted Willow's chin. "Eyes up here."
"Ohgod, yes! Hi. I'm here. All here." Willow shook herself out of the dream-like haze and was relieved when she looked up to see Tara still smiling at her. "It's really great to see you again."
"Mmmhmm...," the blonde teasingly scolded. "So it seems."
An awkward hush fell over the room, and Willow turned every shade of Photoshop-red. She contorted her face into half-hearted apology mode, and fidgeted with the bottom snap of her shirt. "Oops?"
"Uh huh." Tara winked at the redhead, essentially letting her off the hook, but held her gaze for a few more seconds before she walked over to the kitchen.
(Goddamn, she's sexy!)
Willow watched as Tara reached for a vase from one of the brightly painted cupboards, and then went over to the sink. Before the blonde turned on the tap she looked over at the redhead and smiled. "Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful." It was at that moment that Willow felt proud; like she had actually done something right. So far she had only managed to inappropriately stare once, and even then, Tara didn't seem to mind all that much. In fact, it seemed as if she kind of liked it. The thought allowed Willow to relax a little, and she wandered over a few steps to the simple teak bookcase. Tilting her head to one side, she began to look over the titles and was delighted with Tara's taste in fiction.
("Breakfast at Tiffany's," "Naked..." and, holy shaken vodka martinis! - is that every James Bond novel? God, I'm in love!)
Willow walked over to where Tara was arranging the flowers and placed the two helmets she was carrying on the countertop. And then she felt it-like an arrow through her chest that exploded her heart into tiny stars-this really was the girl of her dreams.
(No turning back now, you've got a Tara in your heart.)
Every move the blonde made seemed graceful and delicate, and the emotions that played over her face were soft and caring. Soft like...
(Don't you dare stare at here tits again! Not now!)
"So," Willow nervously cleared her throat, "you like to read?"
"I try to a little bit every day. My job makes it easy." The blonde moved to the counter and stood a hairsbreadth away from the redhead. "Will?"
Willow's heart began to pound and she became completely mesmerized by the closeness of Tara's lips to hers. All she could think about was capturing those lips; slipping her tongue into the woman's mouth that was right there, practically tickling hers. She looked up at the blonde expectantly, "Yes, Tara."
"You taking me for a ride?"
"What?" Willow stepped back and shook her head from side to side. A worried look fell over her face and her heart began to pound a different kind of nervous. "No. I would never! I'm serious. No fooling around."
Tara closed the gap between her and Willow once again and reassuringly squeezed the redhead's arm. She held on softly as she nodded her head in the direction of the gear on the counter. "The helmets?"
"Oh, those. That kind of ride... Phew! So yeah, about those... I don't suppose you want to..." she looked down at Tara's legs, "hop on the back of my Vespa in your skirt, and wow... heels."
"Not really sure I want that much of me exposed just yet."
The "yet" was definitely not lost on Willow and she ducked her head in embarrassment. She began to feel flushed and uncomfortably wet at the thought of Tara's naked legs tucked in snugly behind hers. She allowed one more fleeting naughty thought (feel how wet you make me, Tara) before her brain slowly made its way back to the conversation at hand. "I'm sorry, but the scooter's my only mode of transportation. Unless you want to ride the handlebars of my bicycle. We could do that, but, you know... Even more exposure there with the hiking up of the skirt. And I don't think you want anyone else seeing your undies. Heck, I don't want anyone else seeing your undies. Wait, you're wearing underwear, right?"
Tara placed a finger over Willow's lips. "Shh... Come with me."
(My kingdom to hear those words from her again in a naked context.)
She grabbed Willow's hand and led them down to the parking garage. They settled into Tara's smoky gray Jetta, and Willow inhaled sharply when the blonde reached over to tug on her seatbelt. "You in good and tight?"
(Fuck! Again with the double entendre. She's like a Willow wet maker!)
The back of Tara's fingers brushed fully over her right breast as she did, and Willow's nipple peaked instantly at the touch.
"Ready?" Tara smiled over at Willow and slammed the car into first. The redhead watched her drive as if it were the sexiest thing on the planet. Every time she pressed down on the clutch, the short, black skirt that Tara wore inched scandalously higher up her leg. Willow let out a small groan which was thankfully masked by the hum of the car. She couldn't help but let her mind wander, and at that moment she imagined what it would be like to lean over and lick the inside of those thighs-check for herself whether Tara was wearing any...
"Are you hungry? Do you wanna eat?"
(Please, I beg of you... Stop inadvertently asking me if I want to fuck. I don't know how I'll explain all the grinding and moaning that'll start going on over here in the passenger seat if you don't.)
"Uhm... Sure." The answer came out as a squeak, and it was at this point that Willow wondered where exactly it was they were going.
"Great! I want something sweet. House of Pies sound good to you?"
(Ohgodohgod... All the sweetness you could ever want is right here, Tara. Taste me.)
"You're awfully quiet over there, Will. Are you okay?"
"Yep. Just enjoying the ride..."
The conversation that began at the end of their drive was quickly picked up once they slid into the booth at the restaurant. Tara took one of the menus at the end of the table and handed it over to Willow. "So, wait. You're not kidding?"
"You really pen, uh..." With both elbows resting on the table, Tara leaned in close and smiled big, seemingly overjoyed with Willow's "profession."
"Go on, you can say it."
"Uh huh." Willow beamed. For such a shy, awkward teenager, she really had turned out to be quite an enigma. In reality, she kinda liked it. Her best friends, Xander and Buffy, (or her ex-boyfriend, for that matter) would have never guessed that lurking underneath timid, bookworm Willow was a total horndog straining at the leash. (What's that they say? Something about it always being the quiet ones...) "Or, 'erotic fiction' when I tell mom and dad what I've been up to. Either way, you can imagine their dismay to find out that their daughter thinks, talks and writes naughty and dirty for a living. Not exactly the Dr. Rosenberg they hoped for."
Tara moved her hand across the table and wrapped her thumb and forefinger around one of Willow's digits. "I think it's hot," she said, and flirtatiously began to play with the redhead's fingers. For a long while they sat there gazing into each other's eyes, and Willow fought to contain the skyrockets going off in her heart.
It was only when the waitress came over did their fingers unlace. Willow secretly cursed their server for the interruption, but pushed aside her dismay once she got a look at the woman before them.
(She's just a sweet, old lady. I'll bet she's been working here since 1965!)
She watched as she removed a pen from her Aqua-Net lacquered, graying bouffant hairdo and tapped the writing utensil on her pad and smiled, "Okay, ladies. What'll it be?"
Willow warmly returned the smile. "Coffee, please. And, was that chocolate cream pie I saw in that big, glass-encased lazy susan?"
"Sure enough, sweetie."
"Yay and yum! Thank you...," Willow forgot her glasses and had to squint at the nametag, "Betty. I'll have a slice of that."
Tara winked at Willow and placed her own order. "Do you mind if we share? I wanna taste yours."
(I hope one day when we're an old, married couple I can tell her how her seemingly innocent questions drove me wild on this very night.)
Betty slipped her notepad in the front of her white, frilly apron and scooped up the menus. "If there's one thing I've learned waiting on people here for the past 40 years, you can't go wrong with pie on a first date..."
They both wore shocked looks on their faces as they watched their waitress walk away. Tara grabbed the napkin on the table and placed it on her lap. "Is it hard?"
"Is it difficult? You know, writing the smut?"
"Oh, that! Well, I can't always find my muse. Sometimes I have to chase her down, tie her up and whip her into submission."
"Huh. Sounds like it'd be a lot fun being your muse, Willow."
And there it was again-silence. Willow just didn't know what to say. Here was this gorgeous woman; almost definitely the woman of her dreams, flirting with her and all she could feel was... insecure.
(You can do this, Willow. She's here. She's real. And I think she wants me to dominate her or something. Oh boy! This is no time to drift into Fantasyland. Okay, maybe just for a minute. No, wait. What am I talking about? Entertain images of Kitten Tara when you're home alone and not when.... Shit! It's still quiet there outside my head at the table, isn't it?)
Willow finally broke the silence with a mumbled thank you and a brave attempt at further conversation, "You mentioned your job and reading. Are you an editor or something?"
"Not even close!" Tara said with a hearty laugh. "Comparatively, it's pretty boring. I'm a librarian."
"You think that's boring? That's totally hot! Let's look at a couple of the classic lady librarians in Hollywood. You've got your sumptuous Rachel Weisz in the Mummy and the total dish that is Parker Posey in Party Girl."
"Well, I'm not quite either. And nowhere near as sexy."
"No," Willow bowed her head and felt a rush of heat at the tips of her ears, "you're sexier."
"You think I'm sexy, Will?"
With her heart racing and her head still down, Willow fought to say the words that would do some justice to the feelings flooding her entire being, "Yes, Tara. You're beautiful."