Disclaimers: What do I own? Nothing! Anya and the BtVS ‘verse belong to Joss Whedon, and the fabulous Anita Blake series belong to Laurell K. Hamilton.
Summary: Response to the Holiday Fic-For-All. Pairing #52: Anya and Jason.
Everything was absolutely perfect – hair up in a faultless chignon, nails and lips shaded a fiery red, tasteful but sexy high heels, and the perfect little black dress. Anya carefully sashayed into the ballroom, being sure to put a little wiggle into her step. She’d planned on an expertly timed late arrival, so she posed just slightly at the top of the stairs. This was her grand opportunity to make a lasting impression on the men of St. Louis. She’d only dealt with Jean-Claude and his assorted underlings until this point, but she was determined to meet someone non-vampiric tonight.
She paused at the bottom of the stairs, not sure where to go next. She’d planned this grand entrance, but no one seemed to have noticed. Not one man had come over to escort her to the dance floor, not even Asher. Well, this wasn’t right. She carefully turned to glance over her shoulder, but didn’t see anyone she knew. If she weren’t worried about mussing her makeup, she would have pouted. Instead, she made a straight line to the bar. Surely she’d be able to spot a suitable companion from there. If not, at least it was an open bar.
. . . . . . . . . .
Jason immediately noticed the women when she entered the room. Of course, he’d noticed every woman, but that was beside the point. She stood out, mostly because he didn’t know her already and because she’d come unescorted. Most of the women in this crowd were there as arm ornaments for the rich and powerful.
He almost felt sorry for the blonde. She obviously was expecting to meet someone there, but was disappointed. She’d run over to the bar, and was currently perching on a stool, sipping champagne, and glancing out at the crowd.
“Be back in a bit, Nate. I’m suddenly quite… thirsty.” With that, Jason excused himself from the table and made his way towards the bar.
. . . . . . . . . .
“Buy you a drink, beautiful?” Jason couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. He was even more shocked when she responded with a smile rather than by tossing her drink in his face.
“I was under the impression that the drinks were free, but I’ll never say no to someone wanting to partake in a capitalistic venture. Tell me, do you make lots of money?”
“I’m a stripper, what do you think?”
“Ooooh! Even better - orgasms and money! All my favorites rolled up into a very nicely shaped Christmas present.”
Jason laughed. She was definitely his kind of girl – one who had her priorities in order.