Chapter 4: Crescendo
Crescendo: (Italian, meaning 'growing')
Spike went to The Bronze, a local nightspot.
He was wearing a dark blue silk shirt, black jeans and a leather duster coat that he'd bought a few years back while in Italy. He had a pair of black shit-kicker boots on, fancy shoes just weren't his cuppa. His hair was gelled, just enough gel to keep his curls from going crazy.
Spike thought that he looked alright, good enough to maybe attract a woman's attention. This was a big step in getting the beautiful Buffy out of his naughty thoughts.
He had a few drinks, listened to the live band and stayed near the bar. Spike wasn't comfortable. It was strange being out at a club after cloistering himself away for such a long time. It didn't feel right.
It didn't take long for a female to sidle up next to him.
"The band is good, aren't they?" she asked.
Spike turned to her with a friendly smile. "Yeah, they're good."
"My name's Anya. Anya Christina Emanuella Jenkins."
Spike chuckled, "That's quite a name. I'm Spike. Spike Eddowes."
Now Anya was the kind of woman he had hoped to meet. She looked young, but not too young. She had blonde-streaked, slightly curly, short hair. Very pretty, with dark eyes. Good figure too.
They shook hands. Anya made no effort to hide the fact that she was checking him out. Spike cleared his throat, uncomfortable with being so openly appraised.
"That's a very nice coat," she said, fingering the leather on his sleeve.
"Thanks, got it in Italy."
Anya leaned in close so that she could be heard over the music, and so that she could just be closer to the handsome blonde. "I love the way that leather feels on my skin. So soft and supple, so sensuous."
"Uh, yeah. Leather's...nice. A good, dependable material..."
Anya got to the real reason she had approached him, life was too short to beat around the bush. "Are you married and/or involved with someone, Spike?"
"No. I'm single." Getting nervous, Spike took another drink of his beer. This woman didn't waste any time.
"Good. I am, too. I came here hoping to find someone to give me many orgasms tonight," Anya said boldly.
Spike almost choked on his beer. He covered his mouth to keep from spluttering.
"Oh, are you alright?" she asked, patting his back.
"Yeah," he rasped, looking at her. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Are you looking for a sex partner, too, Spike?"
"Uh...I...don't know. I just wanted to meet some new people." This was moving a bit too fast for him!
"I'm very good, Spike," she leaned over, whispering in his ear. "I do everything. Even things that most American girls would think was gross. And I'm highly flexible."
Buffy, Willow and Oz were at The Bronze, too, listening to the live music.
Buffy was bored. Oz and Willow were sharing some smoochies. It was best to avert ones eyes when the people you were with were doing that. Otherwise you looked like a perv. She happened to look towards the bar.
Spike!
Spike was here!
Buffy sat up straight, her heart beating double-time.
'Omigod! Spike's here at the club! Oh, he looks so scrummy! And he....who's that he's talking to?! Oh no! Anya Jenkins!? The nympho who owns the sex shop!'
Anya had gained a reputation in Sunnydale for being brazen, blunt, sexually promiscuous and brutally honest. She had no qualms about telling anyone about her active sex life. She did seem to be some kind of nympho with all of her sex talk, the numerous men she was seen around town with and the fact that she owned Sunnydale's premiere sex shop. You had to be a sex addict to actually want to run one of those stores. Buffy couldn't even build up the nerve to walk into that place. She saw Anya around town often, and once Anya had talked to her girls' Sex Ed class. That was quite an interesting and frank discussion.
Buffy was panicking. What if Spike started sleeping with and going out with Anya? What if he liked her? She hated even the thought of another woman touching him or kissing him the way that she dreamed of doing herself. Jealousy was consuming her. She had to do something!
Buffy jumped up, Willow and Oz didn't even notice that she was leaving. She had no idea what she would do or say, but she walked quickly to Spike and Anya at the bar. Anya was whispering something to him.
"Hi, Spike!"
Spike whipped his head at Buffy's voice. "Buffy?" He looked flustered, stepping away from Anya.
Buffy kept her true emotions hidden. "Are you here on a date?"
"Uh, no. I--I--" Spike stuttered.
"Hello, Buffy," Anya said. "How are you?"
"Um, hi, Anya. I'm fine."
"You know Spike? We've only just met, but we're getting along very well." Anya tried cozying up to Spike again, but he fidgeted away.
"He's giving me piano lessons," Buffy replied.
"Oh! You play the piano?" Anya asked Spike, delighted.
"Yes, I play. Uh, I'm sorry. I have to go. I just remembered that I promised my cousin I'd drop by to see him tonight. He‘s not feeling well," Spike lied.
Anya pouted. "Are you sure you have to go?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so. It was lovely meeting you. Goodnight, Anya. Buffy." Spike nodded at each of them, then quickly departed.
"Wait, Spike!" Anya called after him, but he had disappeared into the crowd. "Damn!"
Buffy smirked for a second, then covered it.
"Buffy, could you do me a favor?" Anya asked.
"Um, sure."
"Would you give Spike my number next time you see him?" Anya was already taking out a little memo pad and pen from her small, fashionable handbag. "He left so fast that we didn't get to exchange numbers."
"Y-Yeah, I'll give it to him." Buffy had no intention of doing any such thing.
Anya scribbled her number down and handed the paper to Buffy. "Thanks, I appreciate it. He certainly is a studly thing, isn't he? That hair and those cheekbones alone could give me lots of erotic dreams."
Buffy put the paper in her purse. "Yeah, Spike's cute."
"Well, make sure you give him my number. I'm going to do a little dancing."
Anya danced onto the main dancefloor, enjoying herself and looking for another sexual conquest for the night.
Buffy was glad that Spike had gotten away from Anya, but she wished that she could have had the opportunity to spend some more time with him. Why had he taken off so suddenly? He was probably embarrassed to have been seen by Buffy when he was getting friendly with a woman.
What would Buffy do if he started dating? She'd swallow her own tongue with jealousy. She hated feeling so helpless and desperate to be with Spike.
Spike traveled away from The Bronze as fast as he could. Things hadn't worked out the way he had hoped.
Anya was a beautiful woman. All legal and everything. She had legs up to her neck, a great body, and to say that she was willing would be a gross understatement.
Spike had only felt a bad case of nerves at what Anya would be expecting should he flirt back at her. He didn't think he would have been able to 'perform'. He was attracted to her on a level, but he didn't want it to go any further. His damnable brain kept shifting back to a certain young blonde girl instead of the voluptuous, adult blonde he'd been talking to.
He couldn't get his mind off of Buffy--And then Buffy was actually standing there, saying hello. Spike had been alarmed, it seemed as though his indecent thoughts had made Buffy materialize, as she was the one that he really wanted to be chatting up. In his dreams and fantasies, Buffy was the one who would talk to him like Anya had, suggesting very naughty things, and what she wanted to do to him.
On a sudden whim, Spike stopped by the store and bought a few porno magazines. He decided that he should start smaller, work up to actually talking to and flirting with women, maybe just looking at some naked pictures of them would help replace the bad Buffy fantasies.
"Right, here we go," Spike said, flipping through the first magazine to find a woman that peaked his interest. He was buck naked, sitting on his bed.
He had all of the things he'd need next to him on the bed: a box of tissues, a bottle of lotion and the magazines. He turned the pages with one hand while holding his still flaccid penis in his other lotion-coated palm.
There were some real beauties in the magazine, but none that really 'did it' for him.
Spike opened another magazine, it was raunchier so perhaps this would be the one to get his motor running. There weren't just photos of naked women in sexy poses, there were also a few pictures of men and women fucking.
Spike paused at one particular page. It was hot. A woman and a man were in a room, with a mirror on the wall that they were facing, naked and going at it. The main thing that had caught his interest was that they were situated near a piano. That engrossed him for obvious reasons. Playing the piano and sex were chief among his passions at one time. Combining the two was always a big turn on in the past. He and Drusilla had made love on top of a grand piano or two in their time together.
The title at the top of the page was, 'Making Beautiful Music'.
The couple in the picture were standing. The woman had a foot up on the piano bench, the man had her bent over at the waist and was fucking her from behind. The pictures were in a series, showing the progression. The lovers' faces showed intense passion.
Spike felt his cock jump in his hand. Okay, he was finally getting some kind of reaction, that was good! He started stroking himself more firmly, looking at the pictures, closing his eyes, reopening to refresh his memory, then closing them again. His cock was extended and hard now.
He put himself in the man's place in the pictures. He had--Anya bent over like that, shagging her hard from behind at the piano. Good. That was good. A different woman, that's what he needed. If he could get another woman into his fantasies, hopefully Buffy would be eased out of them.
"Ahhh," Spike moaned, completely getting into the fantasy, letting it take hold and progress...
Spike’s Fantasy
Anya yelled things out as he vigorously fucked her. "Uhhh! Yes! Ahhh--Fuck me!"
Spike watched himself fucking her in the mirror behind the piano. He shut his eyes. Something was missing--He was losing his excitement. What the hell was wrong with him?! Why didn't being with a beautiful woman (who wasn't Buffy) make him happy?
Just as Spike was going to stop and try something else, he heard her moaning and urging him on in his head. "Oh Spike! I love it! Oh yes, Spike! Fuck me--Fuck me!"
He felt a renewed thrill, his cock going back up to full-mast. Dirty talk, that would help! Her words got filthier.
"Pound my cunt! Make me cum all over you! Ohhh your big fucking cock feels so good! Fuck me hard, baby!"
It didn't occur to him that her voice sounded different. He just groaned and pumped away, looking down and watching his cock sliding in and out of her plump pussylips.
"I want to feel you cum inside of me! I want your hot ball-butter shooting in my pussy! Ohhh! Ohh I'm cumming!" she screamed, driving her cute ass back on his cock.
Spike smiled, panting and fucking her like a maniac. "You want it? You got it, pet! Just--a--few--more--"
He looked into the mirror to watch them cumming together, and found that he'd been betrayed by his own brain, yet again. It wasn't Anya that he was hammering into, it was Buffy. He was distressed, but didn't stop fucking her. He couldn't stop fucking her. He didn't want to stop fucking her.
Buffy moaned loudly, pushing back on him, her pussy clasping his cock over and over again. "OHHH--Ohhh Spike! Can you feel me? Can--Ahhh!--you feel me creaming all over you?!"
Spike thrust good 'n hard a few more times. "Oh God, Buffy! Yessss! AHHH!" He threw his head back, spurting inside of her. "Uhhh! Yeah--Oh fuck!"
Buffy wailed, "Ohhh! Fill me up with your cum! Ahhh--Ahhh!"
Spike continued fucking her while he unloaded. She was divine! So beautiful! So sexy!
Then it was over.
Spike came back to reality with his left hand covered with his goo. The magazine, his thighs and torso were dripping white. He'd cum very hard.
"I'm bloody fucking doomed..." he said miserably.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Buffy was walking up to Spike's house for her lesson when she heard piano music floating out of the windows. She smiled and went up on the porch.
She could see him inside at the piano, playing a song. Spike looked like his mind was faraway, his eyes were closed, his face peaceful, but there was a sadness there too. Buffy waited to announce herself, she didn't want to interrupt him. And she loved listening to him play.
Buffy got chills, rubbing her arms with her hands. The song was slow and hauntingly beautiful. She had heard it before but didn't recall what the name of it was. It made her feel despair, like the kind that might be caused by losing someone you loved. Spike played it with such feeling and intensity, it made her want to weep. Not just because of how lovely the song was, but because Spike was feeling the sadness that he was letting out by striking the keys. It was flowing from him through his hands.
If only he would let her, she knew she would make him happy. Buffy wanted to make him smile and laugh. Why was he sad? Maybe there was something she could do to cheer him up?
Then the song changed, going into the next Movement, becoming a touch more lively. This part made Buffy think of hope, hope coming after the sadness.
The next part was more manic. Spike's fingers were flying back and forth, up and down the keys. This music made Buffy feel a kind of exhilaration, but with a little of that sadness back. God, how could he move his hands that fast and precisely?
Spike opened his eyes, catching a glimpse of Buffy out of the corner of his eye. He was startled, turning his head quickly and stopping his hands.
"Oh shit!" Spike gasped, jumping a little.
Buffy jumped too. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! I just got caught up in listening."
Spike stood up, smiling and chuckling a little at the start she'd given him. He'd been completely immersed in the song. "Come in, Buffy. You're a little early."
Buffy came in. "Yeah, we had a half day at school. I'm sorry I made you stop."
She had been standing there and listening, for several minutes.
"That's alright. I can play anytime." Spike couldn't look her in the face right now, not after what he had done with that magazine. He could feel the blush spreading up his neck.
Buffy put down her things. "What was that piece you were playing?"
"'Moonlight Sonata'. A little Ludwig Van," Spike said, getting out the books they'd need for her lesson.
"Spike, it was...so beautiful."
"It's one of my favorites."
"It sounds so sad though."
"It's an...emotional piece."
"Are you sad? Is there something wrong?" Buffy asked.
Spike sat back down on the right side of the piano bench. "Nothing's wrong. Just because I play a piece that sounds sad, doesn't mean that I am."
Oh, something was wrong, all right. How could he even look her in the eye after the horrible, yet, wonderfully erotic fantasies he'd had about her? Spike was tearing himself apart inside. Guilt. Disappointment with himself. All of these unwelcome, indecent feelings and urges were taking
their toll.
"Well, that's good. I want you to be in a happy place." Buffy smiled slightly. "It really moved me." She slid onto the bench next to him.
Spike felt himself blushing more at her compliment. "Thank you. Any musician hopes to provoke emotions from their audiences--even if they didn't know they had one," he joked.
Buffy blushed too. She switched topics. "It was nice seeing you last night at the club. It would have been cool if you joined me Willow and Oz at our table. Oh, how's Wesley?"
"Wesley?"
"You said you had to leave because you promised him you'd stop by. He didn‘t feel good? My mom didn't say anything."
"Uh, I....made that up, actually," Spike admitted, but that was all he would admit.
"Oh...How come?"
"I didn't--I didn't feel comfortable being there, suddenly. I just had to leave."
"Was it me? I didn't spoil your evening, did I?"
"No. No, of course not."
"I mean...you were talking to Anya, and I came up to you...I made you feel awkward, didn't I?"
"Don't worry about it, Buffy," Spike said, wanting to get off of this subject.
"Do you like Anya?"
"She...seems nice, yeah."
"I guess she is, but..."
"But?"
"But she's kind of...forward. Anya is brutally honest, I don't know if she realizes that she's actually insulting you or not, but she says some shocking things."
Spike laughed a little. "Yeah, she didn't insult me, but I noticed that about her."
"She also goes with a lot of guys, that I've seen. I don't want to gossip, but..."
Spike shifted on the bench. God, he was nervous! "I was just talking to Anya. I'm trying to get back into dating and meeting people. Now--" he said, intending to start talking about music instead of more personal things.
Buffy kept talking, "How long has it been since you went out with someone?"
"It's been a...while."
"Why? Did you decide to take a break? I know how that is, because I--"
"Buffy," Spike turned to her, his jaw set, "I don't want to talk about my personal life anymore. We have a lesson to get through now. We'll never get to it if we keep talking."
Buffy just looked at him for a moment, jarred by his stern tone and the look on his face. Was he pissed at her?
"Okay," Buffy said quietly. She turned to face the piano instead of him.
Buffy had a difficult time with this lesson. She was still upset by Spike's obvious displeasure at her attempt at conversation.
At the end of the lesson, Buffy groaned in frustration. "I'm sorry, I'm just not getting it today."
"That's alright. You're entitled to an off-day," Spike said off-handedly. He took her music book and made his notations.
Buffy bit her lip nervously. "Spike, are you mad at me?"
He looked at her. "Mad? Why do you think that?"
"You've been...different since I asked you all those questions before. I'm sorry, I pried too much. I didn't mean to make you mad, I--"
"No, Buffy," he interrupted her nervous babbling. "I'm not mad at you."
Spike felt bad that his own problems (and forbidden attraction to her) were being interpreted as anger by her. He couldn't let his own unease and stress upset her.
"But...ever since then you've been--distant. You look mad..."
"I have a lot on my mind, and I don't much like talking about myself," Spike said softly, then turned his head, smiling a little to show her that he wasn't angry. "I'm sorry that I was taking it out on you. How could I be mad at you?"
Buffy smiled with relief. "Good, because I'd hate to think I pissed you off. You're really important to me."
Spike felt his heart thumping stronger. He felt warm and tingly with affection for her. "You're important to me too, Buffy," he said, not really thinking about what he was doing or saying. "You're such a lovely and charming girl. I've enjoyed our time together so much..."
He started raising a hand to the side of her face, wanting to touch and caress her cheek--His hand stopped abruptly an inch from her face when he realized what he was doing. Spike was afraid of what he had almost done, he pulled his hand away, got up and moved away from her.
Buffy's heart had stopped when his hand was lifting to her face. She thought he was going to touch her. But then he had gotten that 'I've seen a ghost!' look, stopped and jumped away. Her breathing resumed.
"Well, Buffy--I have some things to--to do this afternoon. You sh-should start home. Remember to practice." Spike tried not to let his anxiety show, not very successfully.
"Okay. I'm glad we're still cool." Buffy collected her books. She smiled at him, trying to hide her shakiness. "Bye, Spike."
"Bye."
Buffy knew that Spike had feelings for her. He was still reluctant, and scared, to act on them. She had to go all-out to completely convince him.
Next week, she would go for it.
Spike downed a beer, thinking of how he had almost touched Buffy. It frightened him. Would he have stopped at just touching her face? Or would he have followed that up by leaning in and kissing her beautiful lips? Thank God, he'd stopped when he did!
How much longer would it be before he did try to touch her? Spike's feelings and lust were continuing to grow. He thought of, then immediately dismissed, the notion that he should stop giving her piano lessons. It wasn't her fault she was sexy and aroused him the way that she did. Nor could he tell Buffy to stop wearing such tight and/or revealing clothes. He wouldn't be able to tell her that without showing how they effected him.
Spike wanted Buffy so much that it scared him. He ached with want for her. But...he had to stave off temptation.
Buffy was a red, juicy, forbidden apple just waiting to be plucked from the tree. He just knew that she'd be heaven to sink his teeth into, filling his mouth with her sweet juice. Oh, he would savor that! Drinking her in, rolling her sweetness on his tongue...
He groaned. Now he was imagining burying his tongue in her quim. On cue, his cock started stiffening. Spike wasn't going to fight it, there was no avoiding it. He went to his bedroom to jerk off and think about what it might be like 69'ing with Buffy.
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Wesley stopped over Spike's house the next day.
"How are your lessons with Buffy Summers coming along?" Wesley asked, sipping a glass of sherry on the couch.
"It's going...well," Spike said.
"Hmm, you don't sound sure about that."
"No, it's really going fine, Wes. Buffy's a good student."
Wes smiled. "She's a nice girl. I'm quite fond of Joyce, her mother. Lovely woman, strong-willed, independent, intelligent."
Spike was happy to be talking about anyone other than Buffy. He winked. "Fancy her, do you?"
Wes colored a bit, smiling shyly. "Erm, uh, yes. We've gone out a few times, we've had wonderful evenings together." Wesley, uncomfortable to be talking about his romantic life, switched back to the subject of Buffy. "So, is Buffy well-behaved when she comes for her lessons? Young people can have trouble focusing."
"Uh, yeah. She behaves herself. It's obvious that she's trying."
"Are you ready to take a few more students?"
"No, not yet," Spike responded. "I have my hands full with Buffy..." That was a poor choice of words.
"Well, I'm just pleased that you're interacting with someone besides me. Does she try your patience?"
"No, Buffy's...fine. She's easy to talk to." That was true, except for when he was thinking about her sexually. Spike couldn't help smiling a little when he pictured her. Buffy had the prettiest smile. She got these adorable little dimples and the corner of her eyes crinkled up.
"That's a good step, that you enjoy spending time with someone else."
"Step?"
"Yes, a step to getting back to your old-self. Perhaps you'll even start performing again."
"Wes, I don't want to get into that discussion again, alright?" Spike groaned.
"You know, there's a highly recommended psychiatrist in town. She's very--"
Spike got up off the couch, agitated. "Stop right there, Wes. I'm sick of bloody doctors! I wasted enough of my time layin' on couches and pouring my heart out all over the fucking floor. They didn’t help me. I'm through with it."
"But, Spike, you still aren't better. You still haven't gone back to playing professionally. You still stay at home all the time. You're a young man, you should be out there enjoying yourself, not shut up in your
house."
"It's my life. I'll live it however I want. If I'm wasting it, then it's mine to waste."
"We've never really talked about the reasons you withdrew from everything. I know it had to do with that Drusilla woman you were seeing, but--"
"I do not want to talk about it," Spike said tersely.
"Spike, don't let whatever happened with her ruin the rest of your life. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, as the saying goes."
"I'm tired. Think I'll go to bed, if you don't mind." Spike made it clear that he wanted Wesley to leave.
Wesley sighed and stood up. "Alright. I'm sorry that I upset you, Spike. But your problems aren't going to disappear by ignoring them."
"Goodnight, Wes." Spike's jaw clenched.
Spike thought, 'You have no idea the extent of my problems, cousin. I'm more fucked up now than I've ever been...'
TBC....
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