Down And dirty

(Characters are Joss', not ours)

A few days later, Willow sat in the university coffee shop flipping through a trade journal, sipping a latte. Even after a full morning of lectures and grading papers, she felt like she was on top of her game. She was even asked to take over Professor Clark's Psych 101 course while he was off having a quadruple bypass. For the first time since she'd moved to Los Angeles, Willow was starting to settle into her life. Really, there was only one thing missing...

Chewing on the end of her pencil, Willow's gaze drifted across the coffee shop, flickering from person to person. But as usual, nobody really caught her interest. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but it wasn't here.

Just as she was about to return her attention to her journal, the bell jingled and she absently looked over to the door to see who was coming or going. She froze. A clean shaven, smartly dressed man walked in and headed for the front counter. It was Wesley.

Double espresso in hand, Wes turned away from the coffee counter and started to look for a table where he could read his morning paper before class. As always, the shop was teaming with people at this time of the day.

A flash of red caught his eye, stirring something deep within him. His gaze skimmed back to find it, only to find Willow's gaze locked on him. He sucked his breath in, unsure whether to acknowledge her or pretend he hadn't seen. Having kept his night time escapades completely separate from his everyday life, he was at a loss when they collided full force.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Willow stared wide-eyed and unable to so much as blink, much less leap out of the path of destruction. He looked so different in the light of day, yet here was the same man she'd first met when she was in high school. She'd been a virgin then. SO not a virgin now. The clash of physical and emotional sensations was impossible to reconcile and she thought she might just throw up.

She gave him no clues as to what was appropriate. Perhaps she didn't know anymore than he did. And why should she?

Without making a mental decision to do so, he found himself walking toward her. Once the first few steps were taken, he was committed to follow through, despite the slight case of nerves he hadn't experience in many years.

When he reached her and looked down, he couldn't help noticing how sweet she looked, and knowing how much difference bright red lipstick and eyeliner made. It wasn't a criticism... he appreciated the juxtaposition of opposites... good and evil, black and white, sweet and hot. His heart kicked up a notch at the unwanted notion of trying sweet sometime.

He cleared his throat. "Good morning. May I?"

"I--Uhm--ah..." Willow's words tangled up on her tongue. Her whole mouth went dry and she stalled by shoving her papers aside and making a spot for his coffee with a gesture for him to sit.

Taking a drink of her own latte, she started again. "Morning. You're -- you're here...why?" She blinked at her own words. "Wow. Rude. That was rude. I didn't mean you shouldn't be here. I just meant that I didn't expect to... you know... see you... here, " she emphasized the last word.

"Here... yes... I'm always here Wednesday mornings." He set his coffee on the table and sat down across from her, swallowing hard as his knees brushed hers. "I didn't expect to see you..." at all .

"Oh! Well... I come here a lot too. But I just switched around my schedule so I could take over Dr. Clark's course so I have a free block between nine and ten on Monday, Wednesday and Friday and... well, here I am. And here you are. And... I'm totally rambling."

She couldn't stop staring at him. He was clean shaven, yet the memory of his stubble brushing against her thigh sent a shudder coursing through her that actually made her squirm in her seat. Logically speaking, she understood the physiology behind her autonomic reaction. Sensory-evoked memories were extraordinarily emotionally potent because the modality is physically closest to the limbic system and the hippocampus and amygdala are responsible for emotions and memory -- which totally explained why just the scent of his cologne was making her wet, but it didn't make it any less mortifying sitting in the middle of a busy coffee shop. Abstractly, she wondered if there was some way to work this experience into her lecture but quickly dismissed the idea.

"So, Wednesdays," she crossed her legs and tried to look casual as she took another drink. "What brings you here every hump day?" Eyes popped wide at her unfortunate choice of words and she very nearly spilled her coffee as she waved away her last statement as if she could erase it with a gesture. "I mean, you must have business here... on campus?"

He almost choked on his coffee, though admittedly, if her foot accidentally made its way between his legs... he would have no problem making hump day a reality. Formulating an answer with such thoughts swirling about his mind was difficult.

"I teach a class on Wednesday mornings. 'The Occult: Fact or Fiction.' I was approached to teach a class on Sexual Overtone In Mysticism And The Occult, but didn't feel I was qualified..." Oh, he'd learned that dabbling in The Occult for too long often brought with it darker or what might be considered more deviant sexual desires, but he certainly didn't intend to speak on the topic.

"Sexual Overtones...?" Willow's wide eyes crinkled at the edges as she stifled a laugh. "I think you're more than qualified. Don't you have a Masters in that or something?" she teased, suddenly feeling more at ease until the broader implications settled over her. "So, you're teaching here then?" It was a big campus. It didn't mean she'd see him. This was just a fluke, she told herself.

"A masters... no." He really ought to take that as a compliment. "Some things are better learned the old fashioned way. Apprenticeship," he said, watching her cheeks blush to the exact hue they where whenever she strained against him. His fingers tightened around the edge of the table. "Just one class. It helps AI get known, and makes those who are receptive to the notion of creatures that walk the night, more aware. And you?"

Willow bit her lower lip in an effort to get a grip on her autonomic responses -- which, of course by definition, was impossible. "I'm working on my doctorate in psychology and teaching a few classes." Was it ironic that she'd written her thesis on social psychology and nonverbal behavior? There was an awful lot of non-verbal behavior going on right here at the table.

"So, Angel Investigations. Still... investigating, huh?" Somehow asking such a mundane question about his life tore away at the fantasized image of the dark knight who drove her to the heights of desire. She wanted to think about Wesley pressed up next to her desperate for release, not conducting a lecture in the room next to hers.

"Once you start probing the darker side of life, you can't stop. You're driven to go back again and again, to push it back, to invade and bring light to those dark places, it's as strong a drive as any. Which is why you don't hear of too many retirements when it comes to the big fight. You haven't retired... have you?" He doubted that she could quit the fight for good, anymore than he doubted she could ever quit seeking release for the desires that haunted people like them at nights - at least not now that she'd let them loose a few times.

The undercurrent of his words was not lost on Willow and the flush in her cheeks deepened, reflecting the hot coals that smoldered deep within her core. He was right. The drive was undeniable. Like a trick candle whose flame could be quenched one moment only to flare up again and again.

"No, I haven't retired, but I'm on more of an on-call routine now. I hear from Buffy and Giles now and then when they need to call in the big magical guns," she flashed an almost shy, self-deprecating smile. She still didn't think of herself as the one of the most powerful magic wielders in history. She was just a normal girl with normal urges -- strong, powerful, forbidden urges.

"On-call," he choked the words out... wondering if she'd be on-call tonight. Everything she said was taking him to a deeper layer of arousal, sending his thoughts in directions he tried to steer clear of during the day. But as surely as he knew his own name, he knew he'd be sitting in front of the computer waiting for a post from her tonight.

"You go to Europe often then. We hear they're operating from Rome these days." If the rumours about the Immortal were correct, it appeared Buffy had also succumbed to dark sexual desires... something that could never be fulfilled by Angel.

"Yeah, I hop over the pond now and then," she answered, not elaborating on the fact that she didn't bother with airplanes. If she was called into action, it was because there was some pressing emergency and Willow could simply teleport herself. Would he be intimidated to know the full extent of her power? Probably not. She hoped not. Randomly, she wondered if he had seen anybody else since their last encounter.

She turned her coffee between her palms and tried to think of something else to say that didn't take her mind to naked sweaty places where her nails gouged into his back as they writhed together in a tangle of euphoric sensations. She wondered if those little half moons on his back had healed and if he knew he'd left a bite mark on her thigh.

Clearly not speaking was worse than speaking.

"Dr. Richter is hosting a seminar on the Evolution of Paranormal Human Behavior a week from Friday," she said to fill the dangerous silence. "I think it's sold out, but I could get you a departmental pass." She looked up realizing that sounded precariously like she was asking him out on a date or something which seemed completely wrong on so many levels. "Not like a date or anything. Just thought, you know, you might be interested."

He was taken aback for a second... was unsure how he felt about the offer, or rather the fact that she'd made it. Again, the clashing of his two separate worlds worried him. "I'm... I expect I will be there as I helped Dr. Richter with some of his source material. It should be interesting... not only the topic of discussion, but that Trevillion Manor is opening its doors to host the event. Did you know the owner claims it is haunted?" The woman claimed a ghost with nymphomaniac tendencies inhabited the property, and had testimonials from various guests who claimed to have been ... quite satisfied.

Willow burst out laughing at that. "No, I hadn't heard that, but now I wouldn't miss it for the world! I didn't know you worked with Dr. Richter," she said, acutely aware that her fantasy world was slowly being crushed by the weight of reality. "So... cool. I, uhm... I guess I'll see you there." And not anywhere else, she thought with a sense of resignation.

Instinctively, he knew their conversation was at an end. Perhaps their illicit relationship of sorts was at well. Only the night would tell. "I look forward to it."

He got up and put the folded newspaper under his arm. "Until... then."

"Yeah..." Willow answered feeling incredibly awkward. They'd done the most intimate things two people could do with one another, yet at that moment she wasn't even able to look him in the eye. Stay cool. Just be cool. See how cool he is? You can be that cool, she gave herself a little internal pep talk.

"See ya 'round Wes," she chirped hoping it came off sounding more natural then it felt.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wesley closed the blinds and sat down in front of his computer. From the moment he'd seen Willow in the cafe, he'd been tortured by memories of taking her up against the wall, and in her bed, and by thoughts of dozens of other possible scenarios ... meetings where flesh slapped against flesh... where one didn't have to act the gentlemen or the lady for a few blissful hours.

Now he was edgy and aroused... he needed something, he needed her to play out one of his desires. But would she be on? Would she be receptive? From the tone of their parting, he didn't think so. He even felt it would be better if they never saw each other again. But that was during the day. Now... with desire riding him like a bitch, he wanted nothing more than to see her put up an ad for him... or to answer one of his.

When he signed on, he saw that she was already signed on. Desperately, he searched through the new postings, hoping to find one by her. Nothing. And yet... there she was... reading graphic sexual scenarios... most likely getting as turned on as he was... needing someone to take the edge off.

Willow had spent the entire day convincing herself to let go of the idea of ever seeing the Dark Knight version of Wesley again. She'd used every psychologist's trick in the book, but not surprisingly the tricks didn't quite work when you were pulling them on yourself. But it wasn't like she could actually ask her colleagues for help working through this. Maybe she needed therapy!

Ultimately she decided she just needed to move on to a different fantasy which is how she found herself logged into ExtremeDates.com once again. She'd spent a good part of the evening sifting through ads, decidedly NOT looking for anything posted by DarkKnight. But she when she didn't find anything that particularly grabbed her, started obsessively checking the member list until she saw the DarkKnight icon flash on.

He was online. Right now. He was there sitting in front of his computer and he probably knew she was online too. Panic gripped her and she almost signed off, but then she decided that would only cue him into the fact that seeing him today had freaked her out. There was nothing to be freaked out about. It wasn't like they had a relationship or any kind of commitment. He was probably just looking for someone else anyway. He probably didn't even know she was online -- it wasn't like he would be obsessively checking the member list like she was...

So there she sat, refreshing the new ads again and again. At first she was still resigned to ignoring anything he might post, but then she decided she would look -- just for fun -- if he posted an ad. After an hour of squirming in her seat conjuring up every conceivable fantasy he might planning to advertise for, she started bargaining with herself. Eventually she decided that if he posted something that was obviously meant for her, she'd answer. Just one last time. Just to get it completely out of her system.

He waited, and waited, and when she posted nothing, became suspicious. She'd probably answered someone else's ad. Or maybe she was chatting with them... figuring out where they were going to meet. How she'd be dressed. What she'd do.

His mind filled out answers to each of these questions, making his already heavy arousal ache. He started scanning for ads that sounded like his or her ads had, well written, with no net-speak, and scenarios that gave one or the other power over the other. Each time he found one, and there were plenty, he scanned responses... obsessively trying to find her name. It was just to satisfy his curiosity, he told himself. But when the clock announced the arrival of dawn, and he'd neither posted an ad, nor stopped searching for her entries, it gave him pause.

At some point during the night, Willow had fallen asleep at her desk, still signed on to the website. When a band of sun hit her face, bloodshot eyes cracked open and then she lurched awake to check the clock. "Oh crap!" She was totally late for her first class. At least it wasn't one she was teaching. As she rushed around getting ready, she spared a moment just to scan the ads one last time. Nothing from DarkKnight.

One thing seemed clear -- reality really had hit the fan for both of them and shattered their fantasy. It was better this way, she convinced herself. Cold turkey. Maybe she'd go to a movie or something tonight to keep herself distracted. Yes, that's what she'd do. Maybe she'd even ask that cute girl in her clinical psych class to go with her. She seemed... nice.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It had taken her two days to work up the nerve, but Willow finally did ask the dark haired girl to go to the movie. Her name was Melinda and they'd had a good time. She was very sweet and the kiss goodnight had been... nice.

But nice wasn't what Willow craved. Not anymore. Ever since DarkKnight had unlocked her inhibitions, she wanted to explore her sexuality. Raw, unbridled... she wanted it down and dirty.

So the next few nights she fell back into old habits, surfing explicit ads, looking for the one that would ignite that fire that still smoldered deep below the surface. She was proud of herself for not obsessing over the member list, barely even registering when she'd see DarkKnight sign off and on at random hours during the night. She was mildly surprised that he hadn't posted any ads and she'd even taken to checking ads from women to see if he'd been finding hook-ups that way -- not that it would bother her, she was just curious.

On Sunday, Giles called and asked her to come to England to mediate a dispute with the Coven. She found a sub for Monday's lecture and she was back home by Tuesday night. That's when she saw his ad. DarkKnight was looking for an invisible succubus with a curtain of red hair to make trouble while he's trying to deliver a lecture. If the succubus was invisible, how would he know she had red hair? But that's what made it a fantasy, Willow concluded.

She stared at the ad for a long time, reading it over and over, psychoanalyzing it from every angle. Finally fed up with herself, Willow pursed her lips, squeezed her eyes shut tight and signed off before she could do something stupid -- like answer it. Just when she'd finally started to get him out of her mind, there he was again, all over it. And to make it worse, she knew the fantasy was custom made for her... who else would even know what succubi were? Or... maybe he was attempting to lure someone from his Occult class. That would make more sense. She imagined him slipping the website address to a cute co-ed in class. Yes... that was probably it.

Even after rationalizing away the underlying meaning of the ad, Willow felt like she was wound up like a jack-in-the box. Unfortunately there was nobody there to turn her crank and set her free from the mounting sexual frustration.

It had taken all her willpower just to shut down her computer and by the time the monitor flickered off, the inevitable fantasy Wesley instigated had already formed in her mind. As she moved around her apartment, shutting off the lights and peeling off her clothes, she could feel the arousal forming like a pool of molten lava in her groin. Slipping under her covers she imagined herself sitting in the small room where Wesley would be delivering his lecture to a small, but open-minded gathering of students.

She chewed the end of her pencil and watched him move across the front of the room making animated gestured as he engaged the students in an impassioned discussion. She found herself participating, raising her hand and answering questions. A thrill rushed through her each time he met her gaze and complimented her on a theory or expounded further on something she said.

Her own mind ran away with the fantasy as her hands slipped over heated flesh, skimming pebbled nipples and slipping inside the wet heat that pulsed between her legs. She never even got to the invisible succubus part of the fantasy. Her mind's eye traced his jaw line as he spoke, roamed over the contours of each muscle as he gestured, and when their eyes met she felt so connected to him that she knew he could feel her arousal. That sensation sent her spiraling into an orgasm that crashed through her with such force that she cried out his name.

Sleep came easily after that and Willow woke in the morning feeling at least somewhat satiated -- at least more than she had since the night he'd come to her door in a blindfold.

It was Wednesday. Hump day. She grinned, recalling how she'd blurted that out to Wesley last week. Maybe she'd see him today. She picked a cute mini skirt and a fitted blouse and took extra care with her hair. Before she left, she went to check her e-mail like she did every morning. Without consciously realizing what she was doing, she'd logged into to ExtremeDates -- just to see if Wesley had accepted any of his responses.

He had.

Stunned, Willow just stared at their public exchange and agreement to meet. Somehow she'd convinced herself that he wouldn't... but he did. There it was. Right there on her computer monitor. He'd moved on... just like that.

She didn't go to the coffee shop that morning. Instead she spent her break sitting outside in sun trying to concentrate on a book she'd started months ago. She wasn't having a lot of success.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wesley finished grading the last essay and was about to leave his faculty office, when he glanced outside the window and found he couldn’t look away. Dragging his wheeled chair over, he leaned toward the window and looked down at Willow, sitting on the grassy lawn in front of the University library.

His breath caught as she crossed those long, lean legs, and a gust of wind lifted the hem of her mini skirt. He’d been there... he wanted to be there again. Last night, he’d wanted it so bad, he’d put an ad out... hoping she’d answer. She’d been online. He’d practically willed her to answer. But when she didn’t, he couldn’t face another night of unfulfilled dreams.

He’d put out the ad, and met a woman. Red hair ... he’d been specific, but her hair had been a mahogany color. That would have been fine, only... she didn’t understand the concept of a succubus and told him she’d just pretend she was the ‘invisible woman.’ It shouldn’t have bothered him, but when she told him his lecture was boring, and when she even managed to ruin the images of Willow in his head, he’d just bent her over the desk and fucked her just to get it over with. It was all she’d wanted anyway.

But that left him still thirsting to play out his fantasy. And there she was, his fantasy. His gaze followed the swell of her breast. He knew how hard her nipples could get... how he liked to rub his jaw over them before sucking her.

Need course through him as sharply as it had last night. He should leave... but when she tilted her face up to the sun and stretched, his cock grew hard and pressed against his zipper. As he imagined crawling up her body, it grew even harder... pulsed and ached. His breath coming in harsh pants, Wesley tugged his crisp white shirt out of his pants, then unzipped. A muffled groan escaped him as his calloused fingers closed around his engorged member and he started to stroke.

With every stroke, he fucked her in his mind. With every stroke, he squeezed her breasts... he rubbed himself all over her, marking her as his fantasy. And when she yawned, he imagined her taking him in her mouth... imagined fucking her mouth. Only he couldn’t decide if she wore lipstick or not... but fucked her mouth just the same, coming so hard he’d have to clean the wall.

Exhaling, he banged his forehead against the cool window and decided to rest it there. Maybe he could craft another ad... one that she couldn’t resist.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Again, he found himself combing both the ads and the responses, to see if there was any Willow activity. At times, he glared at her name flashing on the members list. Was she taunting him on purpose? Of course she wasn't... but...

He had just started to type an ad, hoping she'd respond, when he saw a flash indicating 'new proposal.' Clicking on it, he sucked in his breath. It was hers!

Quickly, he scanned the description of her desired encounter. The fierce reaction of his body was not surprising, not when you considered that she was offering herself as a 'virgin sacrifice'... to be tied up inside a pentegram, with candles surrounding her, and to be taken by the high priest. He could play a high priest, he could chant and... God... his fingers shook as he typed out his response.

And waited...

And waited...

And punched the monitor off when he saw her accept "mach3's" offer to fulfill her request. Did she realize how unsafe it would be to let herself be tied up by some... some unknown man?

Seeing Wesley answer her so quickly made Willow panic. She hadn't expected it and she'd spent the entire day convincing herself to move on just like he had. If any old red-headed girl would do it for him, she could find that same kind of satisfaction in an anonymous stranger. She was grateful for the reminder that it was just sex and the anonymity of it was what had attracted her to the site in the first place.

Still, the moment she'd accepted the response from Mach3, Willow regretted it. Could she really go through with it? She felt like she had something to prove to herself, so she got herself ready to play the part of the virgin sacrifice and was about to head out the door, but in the end, she couldn't do it.

Defeated, she sent a private note of apology to the guy she'd made the date with and signed off for the night.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wesley held a glass of wine in one hand, and a brochure describing the history and 'must see' locations of the mansion. They had an hour an hour to socialize before the lecture began in the ballroom of the house. He'd already looked at the vast collection of nineteenth century paintings in the gallery, and was now headed toward the library when he came face to face with the woman who seemed to rule his dreams lately.

(A/N: If you enjoyed this, please do comment. I love hearing from you, and thank you for your comments thus far. Also, if you want notice of updates, join here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Bloody_Bad_Poet_Fic/)