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Director's Cut

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This story is No. 1 in the series "Director's Cut". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: It's Tara's first PWP! How will she handle it?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
BtVS/AtS Non-Crossover > Comedy > Tara-CenteredMediancatFR1811,337142,40124 Oct 0624 Oct 06Yes
Disclaimer: The Buffy characters are all owned by Joss Whedon. I own only the plot.

X X X X X

I walked down the dorm halls, slowly, feeling everyone’s gaze on me as I went.

Not that I could blame them.

My golden hair waved behind me, almost in slow motion; my lips, full, red, parted, invited everyone who saw them to imagine them pressed up against their own; my lace bodice practically strained to bursting, giving all a generous look at my cleavage (and who could help but look?); and my tight, tight leather pants really showed off my nice, tight ass.

And no one could take their eyes off me. Not the men, definitely not the women. I sneered sensuously as I swayed by, slowly, feeling the heat of their desire in their gazes, but I ignored it all. My affections were reserved this evening for one woman and one woman only.

I could sense their disappointment as I walked past them, slowly, and I loved it.

And finally I got to my dorm room door. I rapped three times, slowly, and opened the door.

Willow, my Willow, was lying there on the bed, draped over the sheets, wearing nothing except a pair of red silk panties and a smile.

I grinned as I entered the room and shut the door behind me, disappointing my many admirers. I slank towards the bed, pulling off the bodice, slowly, revealing the firm and magnificent . . .

A voice rang out, “Cut! Cut, cut, cut!” The walls pulled away and Spike walked into the room. He looked at me and said, “What do you think you’re doing, luv?”

“Um, I’m about to ravish Willow?” I said, pulling the bodice up.

Spike laughed sharply. “Not hardly. Been there, done that. If you’re gonna be the star of a PWP, sweetling, you have to give it more oomph.”

“More oomph?”

“Right. So far it sounds like you’re in a fucking romance novel. If that’s what the readers wanted they’d be pickin’ up Danielle Steele and all those bleeding read-alike Harlequins. There’s no plot here. You’re half a page into the thing and you don’t have your clothes off and you’re not doing the nasty yet. Get with the program.”

“The program. Right.”

“Also, you need to be a bit more bloody realistic. Your breasts aren’t half bad but they ain’t the type to go bursting any bodices. And your hair isn’t golden, either; it’s kind of a dull red. You’re a good-looking git and all that but you’re no Morganna the Kissing Bandit.”

“Well – OK . .. “

“And another thing. Lose Willow.”

“Um, what?”

Spike took a drag on his cigarette, blew out a puff of smoke, and said, “Are you fucking deaf? I said the redhead goes. You doin’ your girlfriend is yesterday’s news. Been there, done that, the whole nine yards. Pick someone else to shag.”

Willow grabbed a nearby bathrobe, put it on, and came over and whispered in my ear. “Sorry about that, sweetie.” Then she walked off the set, muttering. “Praise Thespia I don’t have to go through one of THOSE again. Hey! Someone get me a fucking beer!”

Then I thought about who I’d pick to take Willow’s place.

“And make it snappy, alright, luv? This is porn, not fucking Leo Tolstoy.” Well, then, if I HAD to pick someone else – I opened my mouth and Spike said, “And not Buffy, either. Everyone wants to do Buffy.”

I shut my mouth again, then said, “Everyone?”

“You ever watch the show, sweetling? EVERYONE wants to do Buffy. Xander, Angel, me, that Finn bouffe. Hell, even Faith had the hots for her. So pick someone else.” He threw the cigarette down and stomped it out. “And don’t stick to chicks, either. These things aren’t supposed to make any bloody sense.”

So, who do I pick?

Giles? Too old. Kinda hunky for his age but well over my limit. Xander? Eh, if I have to pick a guy, maybe. He’s dating Anya, he knows all about being ravaged. Spike? Ick. No way, no how, could I make love with an unsouled vampire. I don’t care how WP the P is, that’s just too out there for me or any human. Riley? Well, he’s several thousand miles away, and he’s just a little too yes ma’am for all of this. I think he’d faint at the suggestion. Anya? Well, she’d be enthusiastic, if nothing else. Glory? Well, she is extremely sexy, but I think the act would kill me. (And no, it wouldn’t be “what a way to go.”)

I thought about anyone more obscure and dismissed them. Drusilla? Again, the vampire thing. Jonathan? The guy had tried to manipulate us. Angel? Barely met the guy. And so on. Wait, I had it . . .

“Make up your mind, sweetling,” Spike said. “And hurry it up. There’s a Giles/Ethan slash fic I’m already five minutes late for, and though that’s been done to death right now a story where Oz jacks off to organ music would be more fun than this.”

“Okay,” I said. And I told him my idea.

His eyebrows raised. “Not a bad idea at all. You’ve never seen her, but she’s pretty damned hot. Just don’t go into too many details at the beginning. It’s still a WP, you understand. I want to see breasts by the third paragraph, and writhing bodies by the fifth. Okay, people, bring the set back together – “ the walls closed in. Then, pointing to me, he said, “You standing in front of the bureau then –“ I moved in front as he walked out – and as he closed the door he said, “And I bloody well mean this – ACTION.”

I stood in front of Willow’s bureau, leather pants, lace bodice, and all, and finished a chant . . . “and Hecate, now end thy spell!”

Amy Madison burst free from her cage and landed on the floor, completely naked. Wow, Spike was right, she was gorgeous. Her breasts were nice, her body lean and taut, and her reddish hair was long and wavy . . . . “Thank you, thank you!” She said artificially. “I’m finally free! How can I ever thank you?”

“Um, there’s really no need,” I said –

But of course Amy ignored me. “Oh, no!” she shouted. “Here, here . . . “ and she sank to her knees and pulled down her pants in one motion, her mouth headed for . . .

Well, you get the idea. A lady never tells – especially not one that’s just had multiple orgasms and can’t stand up any more. Wow.

When we were done – and she was standing over me – I pulled up my pants and sat up. “Thanks,” I said, breathing heavily.

“No problem,” she said, hauling me to my feet. “I’m so happy not to be a damn rat anymore I probably would have done that, PWP or not.”

Then Spike yelled, “Cut!” again, and walked in. “Nice job, both of you. Really impressive moaning.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Amy said, “Could someone find me some clothes?”

Spike looked almost embarrassed. “Sorry, luv, you gotta go back to being a rat. It’d muss continuity all to hell and back otherwise. You understand.” He pointed a wand at her and she turned into a rat. A chittering, angry rat, who immediately bit Spike’s ankles. “Someone cage this beast, would you?” he yelled, picking her up and tossing her to a startled stagehand. Then he looked at me. “Not bad for your first PWP, sweetling. Even though you got a little squeamish when you described it everyone pretty much knew what the witch was down there doing.”

I nodded my head. “Thanks again.”

“Now go rest up. This is pretty much all you do in the offseason anyway, so you may as well get your sleep while you can.” Then Spike walked away, yelling out, “Hey! Where’s that Ethan/Giles thing anyway? Stage 2? Well, phone down and tell ‘em I’ll be there in five, and for god’s sake not to start without me. You know how randy those bastards can get. What I wouldn’t give for a nice, simple Xander/Cordelia fic . . .”

The End

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