Title: Shadow Dancer
Genre: Anita Blake/BtVS Crossover
Disclaimer: All things BtVS or AtS involving belong to Joss Whedon and Co. The Anita Blake books and characters belong to Laurell K Hamilton. The song "Criminal" is performed by Fiona Apple.
Distribution: The St.Louis-Sunnydale Connection. All others, please ask first.
Summary: Just a little bit of fluff.
(I've been a bad, bad girl
I've been careless with a delicate man.
And it's a sad, sad world
When a girl will break a boy
Just because she can)
Guilty Pleasures was packed, standing room only. And this, on only its third night of good, clean, definitely not wholesome male entertainment. 'Ladies Night' - so proclaimed because it would be the women of the world doing the entertaining while the men just watched, was already a hit. Men had come from all over the city, and indeed even some of the more outlying areas, just to see the beauties that would parade on the stage for them, shake their bodies, and show off their endowments. It was bringing in tons of money, more so than any normal night of the week.
Which only led to one question in the mind of the club's owner.
'Why didn't I think of this before?' Jean-Claude smirked, stepping out of the shadows and making his way to the other side of the room. His eyes flitted around the room, making sure that all was okay, and came to rest on the far wall. Jason was there, watching with interest the woman on the stage. As he should. It was the one performer that he would actually stop and watch during the night - a far cry from his former ways of being nothing more than a flirt. He was a reformed man. And that was good because the woman on stage wouldn't tolerate anything less. The lithe little red head that was performing was his girlfriend, after all.
She had even been the one to come up with the idea of 'Ladies Night'.
"Why do the women get to have all the fun?" She had asked him, completely innocent. "I mean, I like looking at male flesh as much as the next girl, but don't the men deserve the same?"
That little comment, brought about the first night he had ever met her, had sparked the idea that had led to this - a full blown night of all out male entertainment. There was enough sexual tension in the air to feed his ardeur for a week at a time. It was a glorious thing.
Anita didn't see it that way, however. In fact, he got the feeling she was absolutely livid about him having one night a week where there were actual women stripping on his stage.
'But she does not mind when it is the men, no?' He thought snidely. Things weren't always roses and kisses with the Executioner. Sometimes she could even be a royal pain in his ass. But that was love. You took the good and the bad and made the best of it all.
"She is breathtaking tonight, mon ami."
Jason nodded, his eyes intent on his girlfriend. Already there was enough money in her thong and on the stage to pay her rent. She worked four nights a month and made enough money to live quite comfortably, still having enough at the end of each budget to put some into savings for the day when she would hopefully buy a home. That was the one nice thing everyone could always say about Jean-Claude - his employees never went without anything. Willow most especially would never want for anything. Not with the money she brought in each and every time she performed.
She was swaying right now with the latest song she had chosen. It was soft, haunting, like all of her music was. The lights in the club were usually dim, but they went even lower for her show. Under a single bright light, in the center of the stage, she would dance in slow, undulating, movements. She didn't play the part of the wild showgirl. No, she was a mysterious vixen. Already a crowd pleaser. They had all cheered when Willow's name was announced; as her deeply intoxicating brand of haunting music filled the air they had sat up and took notice, their eyes going wide with excitement. Her red head fell like silk over her pale shoulders. Her eyes were closed, as though she were just as lost in the music as the men in the audience.
"They act like men bewitched." Jean-Claude smirked. "They are not, correct?"
The blonde haired werewolf spared his Master a smile. It was a joke, had been since that first night when the men had acted like this. Jean-Claude knew Willow was a witch. Had she really put a spell on the men in the audience? With her magic? No. With her body and sensual looks? Most definitely.
"I will leave you two alone. Since you are so obviously having a private moment." The Master Vampire chuckled.
Jason hardly noticed Jean-Claude walk away, his eyes were fixed solely on the woman on the stage. Every now and then her emerald green orbs would seek out his sky blue ones and they would meet. A wealth of words were spoken between them without anything ever being said. She was dancing for him and him alone. That's the only reason being on the stage didn't bother her. In her mind they were back in their room, at her apartment, and she was dancing for him in the shadows.
(Don't you tell me to deny it
I've done wrong and I want
To suffer for my sins
I've come to you cause
I need guidance to be true
And I just don't know where I can begin)
Willow met Jason's eyes, licking her lips and winking. The men in the audience thought it was for them. It wasn't. Would never be. Her heart belonged to one man and one man only. He was her salvation. Her light in the darkness. Without him she never would have survived those months after Buffy's death, when she had run from the Hellmouth and all of its miseries and straight into a world so much stranger than she ever could have imagined.
He had been there for her through it all.
Her rock in the storm.
A calming wind in the shaky sky of life.
He had brought her out of her depression and given her something to live for again - him.
Another twenty-dollar bill landed on the stage and she hid her amusement in a sexy smile meant for the former owner of the money. He leered back at her, licking his fat, greasy lips. At one time this would have bothered her. Standing on a stage, naked except for a sparkling green thong. But now? Now she was comfortable with herself. Enough to be able to do whatever she wanted in life.
She bent down, giving the men behind her a good view of her ass. She heard them moan, groan, and knew that they were enjoying her little show. The men to her front could see her breasts dangling through the thin film of her hair. Hair that was long enough now to cover her endowments completely if she so chose.
Xander would die of shock if he saw her now. He'd keel right over, face flushed and embarrassed.
But he didn't even know where she was.
She had cut all ties with Sunnydale after Buffy's death and Xander's betrayal. A betrayal so deep it had cut her to the bone. He didn't want to be around her anymore, he had said. She reminded him too much of everything they had lost. Reminded him too much of the fun times they had shared with Buffy. Buffy, who would never again walk the face of the Earth.
Did he even know she had left town so many months ago? Almost a full year?
She hoped so. And she hoped he hurt the same way she had hurt when he told her that he never wanted to see her again. She hoped that it made him bleed inside, hurt so much that he stayed awake at night, lonely and unloved.
So - screw him.
She had someone else now. Someone who made her feel like a million dollars, even on his own worst days.
And that someone made her feel like she had finally atoned for whatever sins that had caused the badness that had taken all she loved from her.
(What I need is a good defense
'Cause I'm feelin' like a criminal
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love)
"You did good out there tonight."
Willow shivered under Jason's touch, feeling the silky smooth robe as he draped it over her body. He was behind her, whispering into her ear, and it touched off something so deep in her body that it made her shudder with feeling. She leaned back, feeling his lips rake gently over her neck.
"Let your sugar momma take you out to dinner?"
Jason chuckled, blowing a soft gust of breath over her earlobe. He was rewarded with another shiver and it made him grin even more.
"I was thinking of something more private than going out to dinner."
"And what would that be, oh wolf of mine?"
He grinned and she felt his limited powers fly over her skin. It was the feel of passion and hunger. A hunger for something very primitive. He wanted to eat, alright, but not food. He wanted to eat of her body, of her pleasures.
And she was willing to give it to him.
Every kiss, every touch.
He could have it all.
What else was there to deny when he already had her heart and soul in his little hands?