January 2007
For Gileswench.
* * *
"Whipped cream."
"Whi--whipp--Buffy, you can't be serious," Giles stammered. He took off his glasses and started polishing them with his shirt-sleeve, thankful beyond words that they were alone in the shop. He had to admit that the idea had a sick sort of appeal. Not that he would admit that to her.
"Oh, come on." Buffy sat down on the table, and crossed her legs, slowly, her smile as wicked as Giles had ever seen it. "It would be fun."
"I hardly--"
The door bell chose that moment to signal a newcomer and Giles sighed in relief when a customer walked in. He shot a look at Buffy, signifying that they would talk about it later, and went to offer his help.
He carefully avoided looking at the table for as long as it took to find the incense and candles the woman was looking for and bring them over to the counter. He was putting her purchases into a bag, when a sound, barely a sigh, but wistful enough that Giles couldn't ignore it, had him looking up. Buffy hadn't moved at all, her short skirt riding up her thighs as she shifted on the table, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. Oh, he would give in, he always did.
Giles closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to get himself back under control at least long enough to finalize the sale. "Have a nice day."
The woman smiled at him and glanced at Buffy. "You too, sir, you too."