The bath was relaxing.
Well, for me anyway.
I'm sure Faith would describe it some other way.
"But, Buffy..." she whines, "...we're in Vegas."
"I realize that, Faith." As I soap up her back.
She's hunched over, her body moving with the motion of my scrubbing.
"But you said," she whines again.
She really is a petulant child. A horny petulant child.
"And we will," I say, smiling at her back.
She's quiet. Then:
"Don't you love me?" Oh no. Not that old trick.
"Stop being such a baby. I swear no one would believe me if I told them you acted this way."
"Well, I bet they would believe me if I told them you tricked me."
"I didn't trick you, Faith." I say soothingly.
"Oh yeah? You promised we'd have sex in Vegas," she says, "Oh!" she remembers something, "And what about you comin' on to me on the plane? Teasin' me and stuff. Huh? What about that?"
I think on it. I don't remember doing that.
"When?" I ask, puzzled.
"Right after our meal. Don't act like you don't remember."
I close my eyes and shake my head.
"Faith, I was flossing my teeth."
"Yeah, but you were doin' it all sexy like."
Only Faith would think dislodging meat from a bicuspid was sexy.
I sigh.
"Maybe from your planet, but here on earth it's used for dental hygiene, not as a form of seduction."
"Okay, deny it, I don't care. But we both know what you were up to," she says, all smug like.
I roll my eyes at her back.
She's quiet.
"Ya sure got some industrial grit on that there sand paper. Ya know, pain is a stimulant for me, Buffy. You're teasin' me again, aren't you?"
"It's just a loofah, and you're long overdo, you freak."
"No, you are."
"No, you are."
"I know you are, but what am I?"
"You're a huge freak, Faith!" I yell.
She starts laughing and leans back to kiss me.
She truly is, you know.
"Come on, B, just for a second." Faith is at it again.
She's sprawled against the throw pillows on the enormous structure that appears to be our bed. It's not a king. It's an emperor, and it commands the room like Caesar himself.
"B, you really gotta feel the texture on this." She runs her hand across the spread.
"Uh-huh," I say. I'm not falling for that.
She looks at me suggestively, and says with a deep Italian accent:
"I am Gianni Versace. Come to bed, Donatella."
I laugh.
"Eew, gross, Faith. Donatella's his sister."
Without missing a beat, she spins on her ass and slides seductively down the bed on her stomach, never breaking eyes with me. In the same throaty voice she says:
"But of course you are. Come and give us a sisterly kiss." I throw a boot at her head. She ducks, laughing.
"Come on, get dressed. 'The Donger need food'."
Sixteen Candles. Great movie.
"B, ya know, I hear they have great room service. Come here and have a look."
"Give it up, Faith." I say.
"I'm tryin' to, but you're just not biting, B."
She's quick, that one. "If you don't stop with the sexual harassment, I'm gonna take it back."
"You wouldn't do that," she says, unsure.
"You willing to gamble on it?" I dare.
She groans and puts her boots on.
See? I'm quick too.
We immediately get seated, bypassing the long line of people waiting to get a table. We get more than a few curious stares as Faith struts by holding my hand.
She's such a show-off.
We had left the room hungry for Italian. We decided on Terrazza here in the hotel. I had looked at the long line and rethought the whole room service idea.
Faith just said:
"Wait here." And she strolled up to the Maitre d'.
All heads turned in her direction as she passed them, men and women. She's hot like that. I saw her give a killer smile to the guy and he smiled back, obviously charmed. She said a few words to him, and he punched something up in a computer nearby. He unhooked the velvet cord, and with a flourish, motioned her inside. She said a few more words, and then the Maitre d' looked up to where she was pointing.
At me.
I felt a deep flush creep over me as all heads turned in unison to look at me.
Like human dominos.
At me...
The dork at the end of the line.
Faith smiled and strolled back in my direction. All eyes were on her and her apparent destination.
She's such a spectacle.
She leaned in and gave me a kiss on the lips, fully aware we were being watched. She took my hand and strutted her way back to the front.
The Maitre d' beams broadly as we approach, clearly pleased by the sight of us. He waits for us to enter and then he replaces the velvet cord with a click.
Successfully keeping the hoi polloi at bay.
The table he seats us at is poolside. It's lovely. He snaps his fingers, and two waiters appear instantly to clear the extra settings and to hand him two menus.
He lets Faith seat me, and then he pulls back a chair for her. She smiles warmly at him, and I see him raise his eyebrow in appreciation. He hands us the menus, suggesting a few courses, and then leaves us alone.
I see Faith slip him a chip.
"Big tipper, Faith. What's that, two hundred dollars so far?" I ask.
She shrugs.
"When in Rome, B." she explains.
It was beyond romantic. The candles on the table, the lighted pool, the way the waiters fussed over us.
You wouldn't think it, but Faith was really in her element.
I watched the way she so smoothly handled it all. She was courteous and flirtatious, but not overly so. She discussed the various specialties with the head chef who had come to take our order personally. It was impressive.
Her coloring is flushed, the candles merely enhancing her natural glow. Her lips are slightly parted as she listens to the gentleman's compliment that is seated at the table next to us. She graciously declines an invitation for us to join his party for drinks later. She slides her hand across the table and takes hold of mine. He notes this and nods his understanding. Then he too gives an appreciative look.
She's amazing.
She turns away from him with a smile, and rests her eyes on me.
"What, B?" she asks.
"You take my breath away," I whisper.
She looks surprised at first, and then her face softens into a tender smile.
She leans across the table and gives me a kiss.
A yummy kiss.
My heart starts racing from the touch of her. She pulls back slightly and whispers into my lips
"No..." she murmurs, "...you do."
Dinner was phenomenal.
Each course was delicious. The head chef made us promise we'd come back. He wanted us to try another specialty of his, Shrimp alla grigiglia.
We promised to come back with Xander and Will.
It's a cold night, but we walk the strip anyway. We went up to the room to get jackets, and I half expected for Faith to make a move on me again, but she didn't.
I guess she's not such a gambler after all.
The strip was crazy as usual. All-you-can-eat buffets, loose slots and gimmicks galore, all competing with each other. It was garish and gorgeous all at the same time.
It was Vegas.
We stopped to get tickets to a show for when Willow gets here. We knew Xander wouldn't go. He'll be in strip joints the whole time.
We stopped at some shops to get mom, Giles, Oz, and Cordy souvenirs.
Faith wanted to get Cordelia some tassels and a G-string as a gag gift, but I think she was afraid I'd gag her if she went through with it.
"Go ahead," I said.
"Really? It's just a joke, B."
"I know, Faith. The stick from my ass was removed a long time ago, remember?"
"Not that long ago," she mumbles, but loud enough to know I can hear.
She flashes me a smile.
I got my mom a T-shirt that says:
"My daughter went to Las Vegas and all I got was this lousy T-shirt...and a couple grand in debt."
Lame, I know, but she likes those kinds of things.
Faith got her a T-shirt with a fluffy cat on it.
I don't know why.
"It doesn't even say Las Vegas or anything, Faith." I say.
"I dunno, B. It just reminds me of her," was all she said.
We walk around some more, and she flips off a bunch of guys that whistle at us. Just a bunch of yahoos on their way to a strip joint. Cheetahs or something.
She looks at me after awhile and says:
"Feel like gettin' wet?" Eyebrow up.
"Whatcha got in mind?" I ask.
"You. Me. King-sized tub."
"Sure," I say.
We get back, and again I expect her to make her move.
But she doesn't.
Instead, she runs the bath and walks over to the colossal fruit basket that had been delivered while we were out. She lets out a slow whistle.
"Damn, B. The Council is suckin' up, big time."
And she hands me a card that reads:
Chosen Two:
Best regards. We hope this card finds you well
and comfortable in your accommodations.
In gratitude,
T.W.C
She looks over the basket and starts pulling it apart. She piles up an armload of stuff, a bottle of champagne hanging from her fingers.
"Some good stuff, B. Dean & Deluca." And puts the stuff on the bathroom counter.
She goes out to the bar and gets a bucket and fills it with ice, two champagne glasses resting on top. I watch her as she sets everything up.
She pulls in two chairs and pushes them together facing each other. She gets a clean towel and drapes it over the chairs.
She goes back out and comes back with a large flat plate and a very sharp looking knife.
She rinses the fruit, dries, and then slices them. She arranges them on the plate. Kiwi's, pears; sliced. Strawberries, whole.
And the biggest bunch of grapes I've ever seen.
She sets a small jar of caviar next to it with toast points. She places the plate on the chairs and the ice bucket next to it. She eyeballs the ice and then dumps some into the tub.
She puts the bottle of champagne in to chill.
She walks back out and comes back shortly with three medium sized candles. She sets two on one side of the bath and one at the other. She lights them, burning her finger in the process.
"Fuck!" she says, putting her finger in the bucket of ice.
After a moment she takes it out and sticks it in her mouth, sucking on it. She goes back to setting things up and doesn't even look at me.
She goes to a cabinet and starts looking around, pushing things aside. She finds what she's looking for, and goes back to the tub and starts filling the bath with a liquid.
Bubbles begin to form, and soon a floral bouquet scents the room.
She runs her hands under the water to test the temperature. She adjusts the tap. She stands back and looks at everything and then walks past me, grabbing a big fluffy white robe on the way out the door.
A few minutes later she's back, in the robe, barefoot, and hair tied back in a high ponytail. She flips the light switch and the room is aglow with multiple candles, the mirrors haven given the appearance that there are many. She walks up the three marble steps that lead to the bath, and lets the robe slide off her body.
She stands there for a moment, her back to me, and then sticks a foot in to test the water.
I feel butterflies in my stomach.
She lowers herself into the tub and leans back, only her head sticking out. She closes her eyes.
A moment later:
"You comin'?"
I approach the bath and look at her. She's completely submerged to her neck, the back of her head leaning against the edge of the marble counter that runs along all four sides. Her eyes are still closed, her lips slightly open and her breathing is quiet.
It's a trick. I know it.
I start to take off my clothes, letting them lie where they fall. I look at her. Eyes still closed, breathing quietly.
I step in and put myself across from her. Only my head is sticking out too. I watch her and her breathing changes. It's slower, more regulated. I watch her for a while longer and wonder when she's going to jump me. I reach over and turn off the water.
She's sleeping?
She's not breathing quietly at all, she's snoring! I just couldn't hear it because the water was running.
She's kidding, right? She's just playing with me.
I look at her closely, expecting any second for her eyes to fly open and scare the hell out of me.
Nothing.
I look at her some more.
She's really sleeping!
Oh, we were gonna have sex and she's sleeping??
Actually my plan was to say no, but she doesn't know that!
I can't believe her!
I move quickly towards her and a large wave of water comes with me, catching her in the face and going into her open mouth.
Her eyes fly open and she sputters.
"Wha?" she chokes.
Yeah, you're awake now, I think.
"What happened, B? Did you fall in or something?" She wipes her face.
Uh-huh. Or something.
"You want some fruit, Faith?" I ask.
"Yeah, baby." she says.
I move to step onto a small ledge at the bottom of the tub, and reach over to get us some fruit. My back and part of my butt comes out of the water close to her face, and again I expect a hand or a kiss or something on my ass, but instead I just feel air.
I look into the mirror and I see her eyes are closed again.
Is she kidding me?
I move over to let my butt brush against the side of her face...and she moves her head away!
Okay. She loves my butt. She's always staring at it. This is just weird.
I get some kiwi and pears and reach over for the champagne, when I suddenly feel her hand on my ass.
Now we're talking.
I look back, ready to make a sarcastic remark, but I stop.
She's looking at her hand on my ass and her expression is serious. Then she takes her hand away.
"Faith? Give me a hand?" But she ignores my tease and comes over to stand next to me instead.
I put a kiwi in her mouth. I reach back over for the bottle, leaving the glasses. She takes it from me and opens the cork slowly so it doesn't pop off. It fizzes over, and some spills on her breasts and into the water.
She doesn't say anything.
She raises an eyebrow and looks at the glasses. I shake my head and she shrugs, taking a swig from the bottle. She hands it to me and I take a drink.
It's not really warm, but it's not really cold either.
It wasn't iced long enough. I offer it back to her and she shakes her head. Yeah, me neither, I think, and put it back on to ice. I feed her more fruit and let my fingers linger on her lips. She kisses them, but doesn't try to take them into her mouth. She looks so solemn.
"Are you okay, Faith?" I ask.
"Yeah, B. You?"
"Okay, I guess. Whatcha thinkin'?"
"About us," she says.
And I get a butterfly.
It's not really bad, but it's not really good either.
"What about us?" I ask.
"Nuthin'."
"You're acting really strange, Faith. What's wrong?"
"Nuthin', sorry, B. I'm just really tired, I guess. I don't think I want a bath after all. I think I'll go to bed if that's okay with you?"
I nod my head and watch her get out of the tub and put her robe on. She pads out of the bathroom with wet feet and then closes the door.
She's left me alone in a bubble bath with fruit and champagne and candles.
I decide I'm not in the mood either. I get up and dry off, putting on an identical robe, and I brush my teeth.
The lights are off when I get to the room. I see a lump in the middle of the bed. I slide in and crawl towards it.
I put my face close to hers and her eyes are open. I almost jump back from surprise. After my heart stops racing, she reaches out and pulls me down on her. She brushes hair away from my forehead and kisses it.
For luck.
And then she's asleep.
She's starting to weird me out.
I wake up and I'm alone. I look over at the clock and it shows 7:46 a.m.
She must be in the bathroom.
I close my eyes and I drift back to sleep.
Images run through my head, disjointed and random.
My mom. Xander, Angel. A pair of flowered sneakers I had as a kid. A rat. Principle Snyder. Amy. Cordelia's breasts. Faith's breasts.
My eyes snap open as I awaken with a start. I look at the clock and it's 8:30 am. She's definitely not in the bathroom. I get up.
"Faith?" I say. Nothing.
"FAITH??" I yell. I walk into the bathroom and she's not there.
I walk back to the bedroom and notice her jacket is gone. And her boots. Maybe she went to get something to eat. I go back into the bathroom and look at the burned out candles and the flat champagne. I remember how weird she was, and now I'm worried.
I dial the front desk and ask to be put through to Willow's suite. She picks up.
"Oh hi, Buffy. We didn't think you guys would be up yet. We just ordered breakfast. Whatcha doin'?"
"Have you seen Faith?" I ask.
"Um, no. Were we supposed to?"
"She's not here," I say, and then I explain what happened.
"I'm sure it's nothing, Buffy. Maybe she went shopping for a Valentine's Day present. It is tomorrow, you know."
Oh yeah. Valentine's Day.
But I didn't think so.
"I should have had sex with her," I blurt.
"Uh...um...okay." Willow stammers.
"I should have had sex with her!" I say again.
"Um, Buffy calm down." I hear her put a hand over the mouthpiece and say something to Xander. I hear a struggle with the receiver and then I hear:
"Hey, Buffster. What's this I hear about you not having sex? I thought the whole point of-" and he cuts off.
I hang up and ask to be put through again.
It rings. And rings. After the fourth ring it picks up, and I hear in the background:
"Xander, give me the phone! Stop being such a putz." And I hear more struggling.
Finally:
"Sorry, Buffy. Xander insisted on driving the entire way. He's a little punchy. What were you saying?"
"I said I should have had sex with her."
"Oh yeah. Right." Silence. Then, "You mean you haven't yet, or you mean you should have had sex again."
"The first one," I say.
"Oh." Silence. "I'm sure she'll be back any minute. Do you wanna come over for breakfast? We can order you something, and...and you could leave a note for Faith."
I hear a pounding at the door.
"There's someone at the door, Wills. I gotta go."
"Okay, well, call us back later and let us know what happened."
We hang up. I throw on the robe and walk to the door. It's banging again. The only people who can get up here are people with a penthouse key for the elevator or personnel of the hotel.
I doubt they would be banging.
I open the door and a gorgeous man, tanned and muscled, is holding up a very drunk Faith. He grins at me.
"You must be Buffy," he says, and swings her into his arms and carries her inside.
Faith is drunk and asleep in bed. I left her clothes on, boots too, and just threw a cover over her.
I was in the sitting room with Guy.
The guy that carried her in.
His name was Guy.
I had ordered room service for a pot of coffee and we were talking.
"...yeah, it was great," he finishes, grinning.
Apparently "Guy" is a guy Faith knows from Boston. They used to date.
Or as Guy put it:
"Fuck up a storm."
"...well, whenever she'd let me that is. She always kicked me out before morning, but I always kept comin' back. She's like a drug, ya know? You keep wakin' up in the gutter, but the next thing you know, you're out lookin to score again. Wheew, that girl..." he smiles nostalgically, "...yeah, it was great."
Great.
"Oh, but you know that," he adds, remembering to whom he's talking to.
I just smile...a Cordelia smile.
"So you ran into her where, again?" I ask casually.
"Right outside my job. I'm a stripper over at Olympic Gardens and I was gettin' off my shift around two a.m. or so? And I got outside and I hear this ruckus around the corner. Well, I go check it out, cus a lotta the girls I work with get hassled by the guys and sometimes I gotta go kick some righteous ass, but when I turn around the corner I see five guys and two girls and one of the girls was doin' some major remodeling on some dude's face and the four other guys were down on the ground already..." he takes a breath.
"...well, this other chick, I think I work with her, she might be new, but anyway, she's just standin' there. So then I hear the badass chick say 'Listen sweetheart, this is worse than you think. You better motor.' So I think to myself 'Is it? Nah, it can't be.' But then the statue chick? She comes flyin' at me and knocks me to the ground. Well, when she finally gets off of me and I get up, I see Faith standin' there all by herself. The guys just disappeared or something. She looked wicked hot, breathin' all heavy and shit. She was holdin' something, like a stick, maybe? But then it was gone and she comes flyin' over at me, wrappin' her legs around my waist, huggin' me and shit...yeah, I'd know the feel of those legs anywhere."
He stops, remembering to whom he's talking to.
"Oh, but you know," he repeats, smiling knowingly.
Okay, too many thoughts in my head.
1. Vamps in Vegas 2. Tramps in Vegas 3. Explains Faith's cuts and bruises 4. This "Guy" better remember who he's talking to, before he tells me another story 5. What happened next?
"So what happened next?" I ask, off-handedly.
He grins.
"Oh god, you name it. We went to a couple of strip clubs, we went dancing, we gambled; we got something to eat. It was like old times. Oh. And we got drunk. Well, she got drunk, cus I'm on a low carb diet and alcohol is just pure sugar," he explains helpfully.
"Well, thanks for bringing her back," I say, wanting to end this conversation.
"Sure, it was great seein' her," he looks at me, "Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Okay."
"Why won't you have sex with her? Are you mental or something?"
Wow. Didn't see that coming.
"Not that it's any of your business, but we have sex, we do stuff."
He grins.
"Yeah, but that's not really sex, sex." he smiles.
Of course she told him. I mean, why wouldn't she?
"Okay, one last thing before I go. This is what I know about Faith. She has sex with dudes, but she's basically a dyke at heart. And if you don't give her some pussy, she's gonna get cranky."
Well that was interesting, I think, shutting the door behind him.
I call Willow to tell her Faith is back.
"See? I told you she'd be back, Buffy." she says.
"Yeah, but you forgot to mention the drunk part and the hunk part."
"I'm a Wicca, Buffy. I don't own a crystal ball."
"You own a Magic 8 ball," I remind her.
" 'That is decidedly so'," she quips, "So he was hunky, huh?"
"Pretty much."
"And he had rad sex with her, huh?"
"Evidently."
"How many times, ya think?"
"Oh my god. Xander, is that you again? Put Willow back on."
She laughs, "I'm just saying, Buffy."
"What are you saying, Will?"
"Nobody wants a cranky Faith. Give it up already." And she hangs up the phone.
Everybody's got an opinion.
I hang up and go check on Faith. She's kicked the cover off and she's sprawled on the bed snoring.
She's got some cuts and bruises on her face, but they should be gone by morning. I look at the clock and it's only 9:15 a.m. She'll be out for a few hours at least. Then she'll be hungry.
Hungry, horny, hung-over and...cranky.
I start pulling off her clothing. Boots. Socks. Leathers. Jacket and tank. She's got some bruises on her ribs and her knuckles are raw. That should be gone by tomorrow afternoon.
We only get marked like that if we take a severe beating or give one. I throw the cover back on her, and put her clothes in a pile to be cleaned.
They reek of smoke and alcohol.
I empty out her pockets; cigarettes, lighter, a phone number, oh, Guy's, and some casino chips. I reach into her other pocket and find a box.
A small blue box with the words Tiffany & Co. on it.
Oh my god.
I look over at her and she's still snoring.
"Faith?" I whisper, "Faith, I'm just gonna open up this blue box for a second. If that's okay, keep snoring."
Permission granted.
I untie the white ribbon and lift the lid off the cardboard box. Inside is a smaller velvet box. I lift it out and look at Faith.
"Faith? I'm just gonna open this one too, okay?" I whisper.
"Please do," her snores tell me.
I open the lid and bite my lip from squealing.
It's a ring...
...and it's gorgeous.
A Solitaire Diamond in a platinum band.
Inside, next to the Tiffany & Co. imprint, is an inscription: B mine 2/14
I blink at the ring and wake up from my stupor.
Did she rob a bank?
And I panic.
Oh my god oh my god oh my god.
I go through her pant pockets and find a sales receipt.
Oh my god!
I keep digging deeper but a glint catches my eye.
Coming from her boots. Buckle, maybe?
I pick up the boot and look into it. Nothing. I hold it upside down and shake a little. Out falls a wad of cash and the very sharp knife from last night. She had it tucked into a thin slit of leather at the opening of her boot.
At first glance, you assume it's a fancy buckle, but on second glance you see it's the top portion of a knife handle. She's clever, that one.
I look at the wad of cash. I grab her other boot and shake it. More cash. This is insane. Then I start thinking.
What if the vamp story was made up? Maybe Faith told him to say that. Maybe they really did rob a bank.
Right Buffy, and she let Guy beat her up to cover her story.
But what, then?
I count the money. It's in twenties, fifties, and hundreds. I look at the receipt, it's paid for in cash.
I calculate.
The cash in her boots and the price of the ring...plus they went dancing, clubbing, eating and drinking.
Faith had over fifty grand on her at one point tonight??
But...?
...they went gambling.
Hello, in Vegas, remember? That's what they do here, plus Guy told you that's what they did. But he said it so casually. You'd think he'd mention if she'd won fifty grand!
Her snoring stops. I look over but she's still sleeping, thank God. I quickly put back everything the way I found it. I put her clothes back in a pile.
I need to talk to Willow.
"Buffy, relax. I'm sure she didn't 'pull a heist'," she quotes me.
"But Will, that's a lot of money."
"Not in Vegas, it's not."
"Willow, fifty grand is a lot of money anywhere."
"To us, maybe. In Sunnydale, maybe. But Buffy, you can't even open at some tables for fifty grand. Not your average table, sure, but I'm just saying it's not uncommon in Vegas. Yeah, if you had found that kind of money anywhere else, I'd say 'bank job', but in Vegas you think 'she got lucky'." She looks at me.
"Buffy, trust me. It's all okay."
I smile and hug her. She's trying to comfort me, but I just don't know if I buy it.
"Okay, you gotta go. My very first Wicca symposium starts in an hour. Then there's a discussion group after that, followed by a 'Magick Mixer' tonight," she says proudly.
"That's great, Will. I'm glad the Council finally realized what an asset you are to me. And to them. You deserve it."
Willow was being wooed by the Watcher's Council. Besides having Watchers, they also employ a few other types. Wiccas, for one. They want her to be a Watcher's Wicca.
Willow was still considering it, but her love for magick is making it pretty easy to decide. They had so many resources to offer her.
And now she's representing them at the International Conference.
Or "Wicca-Stock" or "Wicca-Faire" Or "Witch-Fest" as Faith sometimes calls it.
It was a pretty big deal.
"I know, Buffy," she whispers, eyes all wide, "Can you believe this room? And the fruit basket? Xander told me to pull up a broomstick, cus he's hitching a ride."
She looks around the suite in awe.
"I understand for you and for Faith. You're the Chosen Two. Without you, there would be no need for Watchers. But for me?"
"Yeah, for you, Wills. You really do deserve it." And we hug.
I leave her room and go down to the shops. I had called ahead and was on my way to pick up my purchase.
I hope Faith likes it.
I get to the shop and the sales clerk gets the manager. After introductions, he leads me behind a velvet curtain in the back of the room. Behind the curtain was a door with a push code entry lock. He punches in some numbers and leads me inside to another door. This one is reinforced in some type of metal; the type they use on bank vaults. He punches in more numbers and then spins the metal wheel and it clicks open.
We go inside.
Angel would shit. Well, if he could, that is.
Inside, hanging on velvet and under glass cases, was the most elaborate display of weaponry I have ever seen. Every type of blade imaginable. Widow-maker axes to the smallest of daggers; cold and lethal, glinting under the bright florescent lights.
He pulls out three ornately carved boxes and sets them atop a velvet cloth on the counter. He opens the lids and then steps back, letting me experience the sight before me alone.
Three beautiful gleaming knives sharpened and handcrafted with deadly deliberation. All three were equal in diameter and length. Six inch blade with a four-inch handle. Only the metals varied.
I pick up each blade and test the bulk of its weight. The handles felt good in my hand, but they'll feel even better in Faith's. My grip is smaller than hers.
I opted for the silver blade with titanium reinforcement. Silver seems to be the poison of many unnatural creatures.
I'm sure Oz would agree.
The manager doesn't seem surprised by my choice. He nodded his approval as if he expected as much. He closes the box and leads me out to the main shop, reassuring me the knife would be ready in a few hours.
He takes both my hands into his and conveys his deepest gratitude for me.
From himself and every other living creature on the planet.
I leave the shop, musing.
I had called Giles earlier, telling him what I wanted to get Faith for Valentine's Day. He agreed it was the natural choice for a girl like her.
"Ya have any idea where I'd find something like that?" I asked.
"Buffy," he said, "You're in Las Vegas. Anything in the world can be obtained there, if you know where to look," he chided me.
"Like where, Giles? Where do I start?"
"Perhaps Winston can be of service," he suggested.
"Who's Winston?" I asked.
"The manager at the front desk," he responded.
Oh. The English guy who comp'ed us the rooms, I think.
"You know him or something?" I asked.
"Buffy," he sounded flustered, "Are you daft? He works for the Council. He's one of our operatives."
"What?" I said defensively, "Am I supposed to assume every guy with an English accent knows each other?"
"Oh, Buffy," he sighed. "I'll ring him up and have him look into it. He'll phone you when he finds something."
"Okay, and Giles? I want an inscription on it."
"Buffy, I understand Valentine's Day is a romantic observation, but do you really think it's appropriate on a killing device?"
"It is if you're a Slayer," I said.
He paused, "Quite right," he finally agreed.
I told him what I wanted inscribed and we hung up.
After having left the knife shop, I stopped by to pick up my last major purchase. It was a jewelry shop known in inner circles for its unique and unusual designs.
You really could find anything in Vegas if you knew where to look for it.
This shop, however, was not as elegant as the previous one. In fact, it was pretty creepy. The small shop had a dark and dank look to it. The "jeweler" was so pierced and tatted up that he didn't look human. Maybe he wasn't. Nothing about the shop looked sanitary. Before showing me my order, he opens a book of Polaroid pictures he had catalogued.
Page after page of designs that fairly turned my blood cold.
Chokers and piercings and vises. I never imagined someone could mistake a vise for a piece of jewelry. But there it was in front of me, modeled by some poor unfortunate like in all the other pictures he showed me. Sensing my distaste, he closes the book and quickly hands me my order.
You don't want to piss off a Slayer.
The shop may have been substandard, but the packaging was inspired. A long black leather case with deep blue silk lining.
The platinum necklace leapt out at me.
A quarter inch thick chain with flattened links, and a two inch platinum stake attached to it. I had chosen the length with slaying in mind. She could either wear it over her clothing or tuck it underneath in the beginnings of her cleavage.
It'll be a happy little stake.
I had the stake inscribed as well. It was tricky, but he did a good job. Down the length on one side it said
I 'heart' U.
The tiny heart in the middle looked perfect.
I paid up, and when I went to leave he slipped me his business card.
It read:
The Little Shoppe of Horace
Not for the Faint of Heart
****702-555-STAB****
He got that right.
After leaving, I stopped for a late lunch. I hadn't eaten breakfast and I was pretty hungry. I ate Chinese at a restaurant close to the knife shop. After a leisurely meal, I decided to take a chance and see if the knife was ready. It was. The manager took me back and proudly displayed the handiwork.
Across the length it read CHOSEN in large gothic script. On the reverse it read 4 ME 2/14 .
It was perfect.
Beyond corny, I know, but both gifts needed a light touch. It was Valentine's Day, after all. Besides, her gift to me had a similar play on words.
I tried to pay, but the manager went on about how it was an 'honor and a privilege to provide a Slayer with the tools to help rid the evils of the world, and since it was to be a gift from one Slayer to another, on Valentine's Day no less, well, it was simply beyond the unquestionable. It would be a sacrilege to accept monies from the Chosen.'
So it was free.
Who knew?
Slaying is mostly an all-guts-and-no-glory type gig.
No one is supposed to know that you even exist, so it's really nice when someone notices.
Kinda like my Class Protector award.
Yeah, sometimes it really is good to be me.
I run into Xander by the elevators. He was dashing off to do a quick strip club run before he met up with some guys later to do a serious strip club run.
"Your girl's up..." he says, as the elevator doors start to close. "...and boy, is she hung." he adds, wiggling his eyebrows and flicking a fake cigar.
Faith is awake.
I feel a pang in my chest. Suddenly I miss her so much.
And I run to let myself into our room.
She's lying in bed with the TV on.
Three room service carts laden with plates and remnants of food.
The first cart had carbs. Pancakes. Waffles, French toast, hash browns, muffins. Three carafes of juice; tomato and orange, and two pots of coffee. The second cart had proteins. Bacon, eggs. Sausage, ham and steak. The third was a jumble. Hamburger, fries, pasta and a banana split. And a large bottled water.
She hadn't finished all of it, of course, but at least half of each thing had been eaten.
She's such a pig.
I put my bags in a dresser, and then approach the bed quietly.
She looks at me with glazed eyes.
Her robe is wide open, naked, with her belly puffed up like a little melon.
"Buffy, I don't feel so good," she whines, putting her hand on her stomach.
"Oh, baby," I say, and rush to her side, "Are you hungry? You need something to eat?" I ask, all concerned.
She groans at me.
I smile and slide in next to her, pulling her to me. I rest her head on my breasts. I reach over and stroke the hard little melon. I feel like thumping it to see if it's ripe.
So I do.
"Not funny, Buffy. It hurts," she muffles into me.
"Yep, it's definitely rotten," I say, thumping some more.
"Rubbing not thumping," she tells my breast, as she moves her head to look at it.
"Baby, I've told you before. It can't answer you. You have to speak to my head if you want a response."
"Head mean, breast nicer," Tarzan says, rubbing her face against it.
I laugh and rub her belly. I know I'm asking for trouble because it's mostly a giant bubble of gas, and rubbing it is just going to encourage the genie to come out of the bottle faster. I know, cus we've done this before.
Not five minutes later.
"Incoming!" she warns.
I pull the sheet over my face and she yells:
"Dive! Dive! Dive!" In her submarine captain's voice.
I dive under the covers.
"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!" she warns again, making bells and buzzer noises.
"Five seconds 'til impact. Four...three...two...one..."
And she lets loose the most revolting sound no human body should ever be allowed to make.
"Impact!" she yells, still going.
I hold my breath and cover my ears.
At least she warns me now. She didn't used to. But now it's a game, and my baby loves games.
She really is quite disgusting.
"All clear. Please resume normal activities."
And I poke my head out, fanning the air with the sheet.
"The coast is clear, baby?" I ask, doubtful.
"Yeah, baby." she smiles, happily.
"All better?" I ask.
"Much better," she answers.
And I lean in for a kiss.
Faith is feeling much better.
Actually, she's pretty much feeling me up.
So that proves that she's better.
Her hangover's gone and her hungries have been sated.
And now she's lookin' for lovin'.
And I let her. But just a little.
"Only above the waist stuff and no touching yourself," I tell her.
"I can't touch myself either?" she whines, "We're going backwards, Buffy. I think we should go home."
"Come on, Faith," I say, all sexy like, "Remember what you said earlier? 'Head mean, breast nicer' ?"
"No fair, Buffy." she says, ignoring my pun.
"Okay," I say, "Have it your way." And I push my bra straps back up.
We had decided to stay in the room for the rest of the day.
Even though Faith was feeling better, she didn't feel like hitting the strip tonight. She had enough of that earlier this morning. I haven't asked her about it yet, and she didn't offer, but I was going to later. It was early still. I really just wanted to spend some alone time together. Hang out, watch a little cable, cuddle, and engage in some serious smoochage.
I miss kissing her.
I turn over onto my side and start watching TV. I was flipping through the stations looking for the movie listings, when I feel a hand slip up my back and snap open my bra.
Before I could even react, the hand was on my breast kneading it and I feel Faith's hot breath in my ear. She had slid up behind me and was spooning me. Her breath in my ear sent immediate goose bumps over my body and my nipples become erect.
A small noise escapes my lips, and Faith reacts by grinding herself against my ass. Her tongue slips in my ear and I push back against her, meeting her thrusts. She takes her hand away from my breast, and moves lower to the buttons on my pants.
She pops them open, one by one, as she continues licking and tonguing my ear. When the last button is undone, she slips her hand inside towards my pussy and I grab her wrist.
She stops all movement.
And then resumes.
Her hand moves slowly up my stomach and back to my breast. She begins massaging it again, and grinding my ass.
She whispers in my ear.
"Come on, baby. I want you so bad. Don't you want me to?"
And she starts kissing my neck, not waiting for an answer.
She finds my pulse and licks it, then clamps her lips on it, sucking. I feel myself getting very wet, and I roll over onto my back and she lays herself on top of me. She's naked under her open robe, and her breasts are pressed against mine where my bra has fallen open. She nudges my thighs apart with her knees and she's between them, half kneeling, and she links her arms under mine, sliding them to my hips, and pulls me forward.
Her actions are so quick, that my back arches upward and my head is thrown back, exposing a long line of my neck.
I groan.
She presses herself against me, kissing my neck, licking and biting and sucking my skin. My bra falls off. I push at her shoulders, grabbing at the robe to slide it off of her. Her hands are underneath me, and I feel her fingers tug at the waistband of my pants to pull them off me. I raise my butt and let her slide them down. She lifts herself off me, and maneuvers my pants past my knees and down around my ankles.
I kick them off impatiently.
She's on me, pressing her pussy to mine, and she finally kisses me. Her lips are still cut and bruised from fighting the vamps, and I'm careful not to hurt her. Her tongue slips into my mouth and pushes against mine. She's licking my tongue and I suck on it, stilling its motion.
Her saliva mingles with mine and I feel myself getting wetter.
I break the kiss, and slide myself down the bed so she's leaning over me. Her breasts sway and press into my face. I rub my face across both of them, taking her left nipple into my mouth, and I suck on it, rubbing my hands over her hips and her thighs.
She puts a hand under my head and presses me close.
"Oh fuck, baby, yeah," she whispers.
I take her nipple between my teeth and hold it there, applying a small amount of pressure as I flick my tongue up and down it.
She pulls me closer.
"uh...fuck, baby...suck it," she breathes.
I move my head away from her breast and lick my way down to her stomach, sliding farther down between her legs. I raise both hands to massage her breasts, rubbing her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. I continue to slide down, sucking her skin until I reach her pussy. I release her nipples, and run my hands down her sides; grabbing hold of her hips and pulling her pussy to my face.
I inhale deeply, drawing in her scent through my nose and tasting it in my mouth.
It drives me wild.
I feel my clit twitch and I pull her closer. Her pubic hair is wet against my nose. I inhale again, and I feel her wetness seep onto my lips and I catch it with my tongue, accidentally touching her outer lips. She groans.
"Oh god Buffy, I want to eat you!" she says passionately.
She flips herself over and puts herself into a 69 position, burying her face in my pussy. She licks the opening of my slit, and I feel her tongue against my clit.
I jump.
I grab her thighs with my hands and roll us both over onto our sides, breaking her contact with my pussy.
She lies there, blinking at me.
"What the fuck, Buffy?" she says.
"It went too far. I'm sorry, it was my fault," I say.
"Are you kidding me?" she asks, in disbelief.
I slide over to her on my stomach and crawl on top of her. I bury my face in her neck.
"Don't be mad, baby. I really just wanted to kiss you, but then I went too far. Can we go back to kissing?"
"Buffy, I don't understand you. Why are we stopping? Why can't we kiss and have sex?"
"I'm not ready, Faith."
"You seem pretty ready to me," she smirks, and then, "Buffy, you're never gonna have sex with me, I know it. You told me 'when we get to Vegas' but it's been two nights already. And now I can't even touch myself? This is gettin' worse, Buffy, not better."
She sounds very upset.
"Baby, I want it to be special, that's all."
"Why can't it be special now? How is waiting going to make it more special? What are we waiting for?"
She's hurt and frustrated.
"Valentine's Day," I finally say.
She looks at me.
"Really, B? You've been waitin' for Valentine's Day?"
"Yeah. But I wanted it to be a surprise. I didn't plan it out right," I say sadly.
Her bottom lip comes out in sympathy.
I guess I must be pouting.
"Nah, baby. That is special. I just wish you would have told me, so I wouldn't have gotten so nutty."
"But then it wouldn't have been a surprise," I tell her.
"You're right, baby. You're right." She pulls me up, so that I'm now looking down at her.
"Valentine's Day is tomorrow, B." she says, looking at me closely.
"I know, baby." I say.
She smiles, then gets all excited.
"I'm not gonna be able to sleep tonight!" she says, like a little kid.
