Slumber Party
"I hate this," I announced again. As if anyone were listening.
"Yes, Cordelia, we know," Willow said in her stupid, slurry, would-be cute Willow voice. She was wearing pajamas with monkeys and bananas on them -- honestly, does she do this just to antagonize my inner bitch? -- and sitting on the pink carpet of her frilly pink and white bedroom. "You don't have to stay up here with me and Buffy. You can go downstairs and watch PBS with my mom. Or you can try to go home..." Voice changing on the last word, she glanced toward the window, looking a bit sly and mean. If Willow ever let her mean side out, she might actually be worth talking to. As if that would ever happen.
"Yep, you can just drive yourself home," Buffy agreed. She wore nightclothes, too -- a tight cotton tank top and little blue shorts -- and had a People magazine open in her lap. One of the great minds of our time, that Buffy. Even kids who ride the short bus to school read only Vogue and W.
"Me and Will will just stay right here," Buffy continued. "Have our little slumber party without you."
I sighed, glancing at the book on Willow's lap. Some big black tome borrowed from Giles's collection, probably bound in skin from the Master's ass and smelling like a septic tank. She had it open to a page describing the sort of demon who waited outside the Rosenbergs' house -- a Jes'kryiak mother, about to give birth. I'd stopped at Willow's to borrow her Trig notes, made the huge mistake of chit-chatting with Buffy (honestly, I know I'm super-nice and all, but sometimes I let my charitable impulses go too far) and BAM! The next thing I know, some fat green pissed-off she-demon was squatting next to my car. Buffy went out to fight it, got knocked on her butt, and ran back inside to call Giles. Yadda yadda book, yadda yadda description, explanation, big words, small words, several glances at my watch, and then Buffy broke the news: the demon would take all night to drop her spawn and carry them away. In the meantime, anyone venturing into the street in front of Willow's house would surely die a slow and bloody death. No problem for the Rosenbergs -- obviously, they never go out. But for me and Buffy, it meant an enforced stay with Willow.
"I still don't see why you can't just go out there and fight it," I pouted. Pouting is a very underrated skill. "Make Mrs. Demon shit her babies out somewhere else."
"It already smacked me down," Buffy admitted uncomfortably. It kills her to admit she can't do something. "Giles said in this case, it's better to just wait it out. She'll be tired in the morning, and then I can probably finish her and the babies without much trouble. It's only one night. Why don't you settle down and make the best of it?"
"But I don't even have a nightie," I said, thinking of my dresser drawer of silk and satin lingerie at home. Most nights I wore something sensuous to bed, like a sheath with no panties, in case I wanted to ... never mind. But there was another disadvantage to spending the night with Buffy the Never Got Laid-er and her trusty geek-girl sidekick. How was I supposed to fall asleep and have sweet dreams when I couldn't ... you know?
"You can borrow something of mine," Willow suggested. She was still trying to make nice after the infamous Xander incident. Usually I accepted her overtures, especially when they involved test answers or xeroxed homework. But wearing something akin to those monkey-and-banana pjs? No way.
"No thanks." Moderate sneer. Would have gone for more, but there was no one around to appreciate it, since Buffy obviously dressed herself out of the dumpster, too. Leaning back against the bed, I wished Willow would at least turn on the TV. My underwire was cutting into my ribcage and I really wanted out of my thong, but not if it meant playing dress-up in Willow's closet. Maybe when it came time to sleep, I'd strip naked and shock them both. Buffy was so repressed; she probably turned away from the mirror after showering to avoid seeing a naked woman. And Willow would probably run crying to mommy when she saw my D-cup tits and waxed muff.
Okay," Willow said, closing the Big Book O' Demons and shoving it under her bed. "I've confirmed everything Giles said over the phone. We haven't missed anything. All we have to do is wait until morning."
"Cool." Buffy also gave the TV a longing little glance. "What do you want to do now? Pop in a video?"
"Yes. Please. Say you have something good," I pleaded, afraid Willow's video collection might consist solely of educational titles.
"We can," Willow said, in that tone that means "we won't." "But first, I was thinking ... if you don't mind ... we might do something..." She paused, voice going slurry and wannabe-cute again. "A little naughty."
"Naughty?" Buffy asked, trying to sound intrigued, but with alarm in her eyes.
"Naughty?" I snorted. "Willow, you wouldn't know naughty if someone shoved a bullwhip up your ass."
"I do so know naughty," she said indignantly. "Look at this." Reaching back under the bed, she came up with another book -- this one small, purple and smelling of flowers. Lavender, maybe.
"This is a book of spells." Willow paused for dramatic emphasis, blue eyes going wide. "Sex spells."
I snorted again. "Um, okay. Two things. Number one, I've seen a love spell before, and they suck. They're dangerous. And number two, even if you could make a sex spell work, aren't you forgetting something? There aren't any guys here. And even if you could summon them, they'd just get eaten by the Mean Green Momma down in the street before they could make it upstairs to your bedroom."
"I know that." Willow gave an impatient little head toss. "But the thing is, I've been studying these spells, and some of them are ... well ... for only one person."
Buffy blinked at Willow, then glanced at me, clueless. "Huh?" She was wearing a full face of make-up -- unlike Willow, Buffy was apparently insecure enough to go to bed in war paint -- and pursed her pink lips together, batting eyelashes that were heavy with mascara. "How can they be for only one person?"
I huffed, which blew my bangs an inch off my forehead. Intrigued by the sensation, I did it again, and then turned at Willow, who looked a little flushed. Oh-ho. Maybe I'd underestimated Willow again. I'd certainly never expected her to make a play for Xander right under my nose.
"Buffy, you're not going to believe this," I announced. "But some of us masturbate."
Heh. I could have said "touch ourselves" or "pleasure ourselves." But you should have seen the Slayer's eyes bug out when I said "masturbate."
"Gross!" Her voice shot up like a twelve-year-old girl's, and she turned back to Willow in disbelief. "Will -- no way, right?"
"Uh, right," Willow muttered, looking crushed. She'd been hoping to get off tonight, and Buffy's puritan reaction -- expected by anyone with half a brain -- was far from what she'd imagined. Suddenly I had new respect for Willow. Who would have thought a nasty little exhibitionist lurked inside that red head, along with the monkeys, bananas, and Trig theorems?
"Oh, for God's sake." I snatched the purple book from Willow's hand before she could hide it away. "Everybody does it, Buffy. Even you. Even if you wake up with your hand down your panties, freak out, cry, and pray for forgiveness, you still do it. Get a freaking grip."
Opening the spell book to a random page, I found it was just one of those cheap lined diaries they sell at the mall. Every spell was written out neatly in purple ink, in a familiar ultra-girly curling script -- Willow's.
"Hey, you didn't buy this from the magic shop," I said, surprised. "You put this book together yourself. How long have you been researching these sex spells, anyway?"
Willow shook her head rapidly, turning an unflattering shade of pink. "N-not long," she stammered. "I found some on Jenny Calendar's computer. Then I found some on the Internet. I just wrote them down, you know, in case we ever went up against a demon that used sex as a weapon, or, um, uh..."
"Or they day ever came when you actually had to get busy with Oz," I guessed, watching Willow turn pinker still. "What's the matter, Will? Afraid you wouldn't know what to do with it, once he finally whipped it out? Afraid you'd forget where to stick it?" I laughed. "You should have lost your virginity to Xander. Sometimes he comes before he can get his pants unzipped."
Buffy looked still more shocked -- I don't know if it was the image of Oz dropping his pants that got to her, or the idea of Xander coming in his. Maybe she was still formulating a come-back to my accusation that even the Princess of Prude occasionally rubs the rhubarb. But she said nothing, and when Willow made a grab for the spell book I easily evaded her, darting around the bed and beginning to read aloud.
"O Sappho, we beseech thee..."
"Cordelia!" Willow squeaked.
"Hey, stop," Buffy cried, diving onto the bed. "I do not masturbate! Especially in front of other girls!"
"... come to us and fill us with the desire that is purely feminine," I continued, darting to the side and twisting away. "Te hectum facil faecitis et quorem te scleritis..."
Buffy made a small sound and flopped back onto the bed. Willow dropped on the floor, covering her face with her hands. Surprised they'd give in so easily, I read the bullshit pseudo-Latin more loudly, pronouncing each word with the utmost care. Buffy and Willow went almost immobile with fright, as if a bad poem copied into a diary could make anyone do anything, so I finished with gusto, then tossed the book on the nightstand.
"All right," I laughed. "It's done. We're all under the spell. Buffy, spread your legs and show me what you do every night of the week."
Buffy looked up at me and smiled. She was actually very pretty when she smiled. I was so used to whiny-Buffy and mopey-Buffy, I'd almost forgotten the pretty Buffy I'd met two years before, the one with the soft curves and cute little preppie skirts.
"I told you," she said, still smiling up at me. "I never masturbate. I'm saving myself."
"Saving yourself?" I shot a glance at Willow, who peeked at us through half-closed fingers, as if afraid to fully watch what happened next. "What are you talking about? You already fucked Angel's soul out. There's nothing left to save."
"I mean, I'm saving myself for next time," she said in a slow, lazy tone of voice -- soft and sexy. "For the next time I do it. God, Cordelia, I want it so bad, I think about it all the time. But I don't touch myself. I don't give in. And the next time I do it, it will be heaven."
"The next time you do it, Angelus will kill the other half of Sunnydale," I snapped, irritated. Buffy's nipples were hard beneath her tight cotton tank top. I hadn't noticed that before -- hadn't even noticed she was braless until just now. She had sweet little tits -- round, just a handful, probably with rosy pink nipples. Was she really saving them for Angel? Just so she could unleash Mr. Psycho again?
"For God's sake, Buffy, you should buy a vibrator and have mercy on the town. Isn't that right, Willow?"
Willow blinked at me, then gave a nervous little laugh. "Cordelia? Do you, um, feel okay since you cast that spell?"
"I feel fine. It didn't do anything. If it had, we'd all be humping the bedposts, wouldn't we?" I studied one of Willow's bedposts, which actually had a decent, rounded oval shape. God, I was horny, now that I thought of it. But the idea of riding the bedpost didn't do anything for me.
"It wasn't that kind of spell," Willow squeaked, still apologetic. "You didn't go for one of the self-pleasure chants. You invoked one of the ... um ..."
Buffy stretched on the bed, pulling off her tank top and tossing it on the floor. She really did have sweet little tits, very different from mine. Would they be soft, firm, or some wonderful combination of both? I was dying to find out.
"I don't want a vibrator," Buffy murmured, hazel eyes on mine. "I want hands. Slow, gentle hands."
"...lesbian spells," Willow finished, covering her eyes again, then peeking back out at me, as if she expected me to dart back around the bed and kick her ass.
"Lesbian spells?" I blinked at Willow. "I turned myself into a lesbian? As in Birkenstocks?"
"No, no," Willow said hastily. "Nobody ever said you have to wear -- wait, that's not the point. The point is, none of these are permanent. They won't last more than a few hours. They're just meant to ... you know ... spice up lovemaking," she said, pronouncing "lovemaking" very carefully and sounding like an idiot in the process. "You'll go back to yourself soon. But while you're under the influence, you'll want to, well, be with a girl. And it looks like Buffy feels the same way."
I stared at Willow, who was also prettier than I'd ever noticed, assuming someone peeled off her weird clothes and burned them in a furnace. "Okay. That would explain why you look so fuckable," I admitted. "Did the spell affect you, too?"
"I don't know," Willow said, sounding strangely embarrassed, since she'd already confessed the worst. "Maybe it only got to you and Buffy, since you two were so close together when you petitioned Sappho. Or maybe the spell won't do much to someone who already ... um..."
"Hey, I'm waiting," Buffy interrupted, wriggling out of her tight little shorts. Now I could see the curve of her belly and her slender brown thighs. As I suspected, she wore panties, not a thong, but they were cute panties -- a little white bikini with pink hearts decorating the pussy region. I could see the dark shadow beneath, too -- pubes au natural.
"God, you look like such a virgin," I said, feeling a rather urgent pulse begin between my own legs. "Little pink hearts."
Straddling her, I bent close to her face, pretending I was going to kiss those pink glossy lips. Then I moved down, closing my mouth on her nipple instead. It was hard against my tongue, and her tit was soft and warm -- lovely to suck, perfect in my mouth. Buffy gave a sharp little moan when I bit her -- oh, yeah, like she'd never been bitten during foreplay -- and writhed a little, pressing her thighs together.
"Thought you said you never masturbated," I said, releasing her tit and watching her squeeze those thighs together again. "You're cheating."
"I have to," Buffy whispered, squeezing again, fingers creeping past the elastic band of her panties. "You're so beautiful. If you don't fuck me, I'll have to do it myself."
"No, you won't. You won't touch yourself at all," I instructed, grabbing her hand and pushing it away. Hey, maybe the spell turned me lesbian, but there are some things magic can't change -- Buffy was still a bottom, and I was still a top. "I'll get down there when I'm good and ready."
I pulled off my sweater, then shifted to unbutton my jeans. Buffy watched me with a little smile on her face, fingers tapping nervously, as if she could hardly bear to wait. I wanted to make it a slow, torturous strip tease, but my thong was already wet, and I really wanted out of those jeans. So I unzipped and got free -- hard to get out of your jeans off when they're that tight -- then unhooked my bra and tossed it across the room.
Willow made a small sound -- I didn't see it, but it was probably the sound of a girl being hit across the face with a 32 D.
"Willow?" I had forgotten her. Now I turned, tits free, nipples tingling, ready to fuck and not especially troubled by a third party in the room. And Willow didn't look embarrassed or upset -- she looked more like a three-year-old, staring at the glorious tree on Christmas morning.
"Willow, are you just gonna watch?"
"Yeah," she breathed dreamily, eyes wide.
"Okay. So. What do you think of my tits?" I asked, cupping each one and lifting them slightly. I couldn't resist -- they're spectacular.
"I love them," she whispered.
"Me, too," Buffy said, reaching up with both hands. "Come back to me, Cordelia."
Warm and mostly nude, we nuzzled for a while, just rubbing each other's bodies. Buffy was a good kisser -- I guess, given Angel's issues, she had to get creative with the mouth stuff -- and we kissed for a long time. Then she put that mouth to work on my right breast, sucking so hard and long that I finally pushed my fingers beneath my thong and rubbed my own wet, warm pussy.
"Now you're cheating," she whispered, coming up for air.
"I make the rules," I reminded her, withdrawing those fingers and pressing them against her lips. "How do I taste?"
She licked my fingers, staring into my eyes as she sucked them theatrically, like a porn chick sucking a huge swollen cock. The image didn't bother me -- I liked Buffy's eagerness, and I like the idea of me in charge, me as the one who would do the penetrating. I had no doubt my fingers could do the job. God knows they've done the job on me often enough.
"Let me lick you," Buffy pleaded, hands sliding down my waist and cupping my ass.
God, I wanted her to, but I couldn't let her think she had power over me. Her, or any woman. In fact, on Monday morning I'd probably fist-fuck a Cordette just to make sure everyone knew I was in charge. "Take off your panties," I ordered, giving her a wicked smile.
Buffy did so eagerly, leaning back on the bed and opening her legs like a good little girl. Ah, yes, the glossy, dark brown muff -- matched her roots perfectly. I came in close, drinking in the smell, amazed by that inviting little pussy. Before I knew it, I'd kissed it impulsively, savoring the taste. Then I spread her lips with my hand and licked her hard, wet clit. Buffy groaned, pushing herself closer, and I pressed my mouth against it, sucking her clit like I'd sucked her tits, then running my tongue deep into her pussy. As she moaned again, louder this time, I pulled my face away and shoved two fingers inside that hot, snug place.
"You've neglected yourself," I murmured, pushing harder. "How bad do you want it, Slayer?"
"Bad," she whispered, hands on her tits, squeezing her nipples with desperate impatience.
I withdrew the fingers and shook my head. "Not bad enough." Using my hands again, I parted Buffy's legs more fully, revealing that other place -- a little pink asshole, perfectly virgin, or my license plate didn't read Queen C. Using my tongue, I worked until it was as wet as her pussy, then rubbed it with a fingertip as she writhed with humiliated pleasure.
"Feels good, doesn't it? And you hate it," I laughed. Kissing her clit again, I ran my tongue up her flat belly and kissed her right breast. "You've punished yourself for too long." Pulling off my soaking thong, I tossed it aside. "Time for a treat."
I straddled her face, sitting right on that pretty mouth and wondering if Buffy would fight, choke, or eat me with abandon. When her tongue found my clit, I had my answer. In fact, after about thirty seconds, I had to grip the headboard with both hands. (Like I said, the Slayer is creative with her mouth.) Without meaning to -- without wanting to surrender control -- I came as she licked me, groaning and gripping the headboard even tighter. Then her tongue found my asshole (not virgin) and pleasured it so fearlessly, I came again.
"Oh," came a small voice from the floor. As I slid off Buffy's face, I looked over and saw Willow -- monkey pajama bottoms cast aside, hand down her panties and going at it, full force. She should have looked ridiculous -- don't we all? -- but as I watched her tits bounce beneath that stupid monkey top, all I could think was (a) God, she's hot and (b) why is she still wearing clothes?
"Willow."
"Mmmmm." She stopped rubbing and opened her eyes, interrupted just before climax. "Sorry. Didn't mean to. Couldn't help myself."
"You don't have to do it alone," I said. "Why don't you join us?"
Willow shook her head.
I stared at her, amazed, then looked at Buffy. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Mind?" Buffy laughed. "I'd love it. Willow's a great kisser. Kissed me once, when we were drunk at a party. Made me swear to God I'd never tell, and tripled her obsession with Xander the next day."
"Buffy," Willow whined, dismayed.
"Come on," Buffy laughed. "Come up here with us. We have another five or six hours before I have to kill that demon. Wouldn't you like to kiss me again?"
"I would," Willow said. "It's just that ... I think maybe..."
"What?" I snapped, exasperated.
"If I start, Cordelia, I might never stop."
I laughed, spreading Buffy's legs and kissing her clit again -- slowly, lovingly, until Willow squirmed with the urge to join us. "Come on," I whispered, still curious to see what Willow might look like minus the pajama top and plain white panties. "Worry about stopping later."
As Willow shyly undressed, I looked back at Buffy. She really was lovely, even with her makeup smeared and her mouth wet from servicing me. Did I want to stop?
"Willow. Is there any way you can make me a lesbian, permanently?"
"I don't think so," Willow said, topless at last. Like Buffy, she had rosy pink nipples, and I couldn't wait to hear her moan when I had one in my mouth. "I think you have to be born that way."
"Oh." I looked into Willow's eyes, suddenly seeing something there that I might never have recognized, if not under Sappho's spell. "Oh, well. Lucky you."