S.M.U.T. Bunnies by Chris Cook

Rating: NC-17
Uber Setting: James Bond, sort of.
Disclaimer: Based on characters from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, created by Joss Whedon and his talented minionators, and all manner of things including the James Bond series by Ian Fleming/Eon Productions, and The Avengers by Brian Clemens. All original material (I'm sure there's some in there somewhere) is copyright 2005 Chris Cook.
Distribution: Through the Looking Glass http://alia.customer.netspace.net.au/glass.htm
The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Feedback: Hell yeah!
Author's Notes: Thanks to Tarawhipped (Cameron) - author of Secrets and Spies, The Legend of Green Eyed Red and Island of Death – for coming up with the 'Smut Bunny Anthem' (to the tune of 'Goldfinger'), and not stating the completely obvious when I suggested the notion of Smut Bunnies as secret agents – that being that I'm a crazy fool with lunatic ideas. And also to WickedReds and Wimpy, self-proclaimed Smut Bunnies – I'm sure, without Reds' use of the Anthem as a sig constantly fulfilling the role of the little devil on my shoulder saying "Go on, do it," the rational part of me would have pointed out that this is insane.
If you haven't figured it out by now, this story is going to be silly. Hopefully, though, it'll be entertaining as well.
Pairing: Willow/Tara

Summary: Secret agents. Supervillains. Adventure. Excitement. Smut. Lots of smut. And saving the world, too.

Willow finished drying herself from her second shower of the evening and returned to the bedroom, smiling even as she felt her cheeks redden slightly at the way Tara's eyes strayed all over her. She in turn found much to appreciate about Tara in her short bathrobe – the robe may have been fairly plain, but the woman inside it was anything but.

"I'll be out in a minute," Tara said, brushing a hand across Willow's shoulder and leaning to kiss the tip of her ear.

"I'll be ready for you," Willow murmured happily. Tara picked up her outfit case and went into the bathroom with a sexy chuckle, and a moment later Willow heard the shower run.

"I wonder if Buffy and Faith have this problem," she said idly to herself, searching through her luggage for her mission outfit. Naturally they had both decided to have a quick shower before heading out to do some more covert investigation at Osbourne Industries' headquarters. Equally naturally – it had seemed so at the time, anyway – they decided to shower together, 'to save time'. Forty-five minutes later they had had to admit that showering together did not, in fact, save time.

"Buffy and Faith probably do have this problem," Willow shrugged. At least, it seemed to explain why most of their missions had included anywhere up to an hour of extra preparation time for 'miscellaneous delays'. She reflected on the 'miscellaneous delays' that she and Tara had had already: making love, lying in each other's arms, playfully talking and flirting, making love, dinner – including a beautiful red rose, which Tara had snuck into the room service order when Willow was distracted for a moment by someone's hand on her thigh – making love again, going over the night's mission plan – while lying in each other's arms – showering, leading to making- and so on.

"Yay Willow," Willow grinned to herself, "I haven't felt this good since-" 'Graduating? Passing my Ministry qualifications? All those successful missions?' "-ever."

Her good spirits were dampened a fraction as she laid the mission outfit's sealed case on the bed and hit the release latch, causing the case to spring open on its own, presenting her clothes to her ready to wear. 'Oh my god I can't wear that!' she thought, panicked. 'What if someone sees me? What if…Tara sees me?' A grin formed on her lips. 'I'm wearing it.'

A few minutes of dressing and struggling with tight clothing later, Willow looked at herself in the mirror, imagining she was Tara, looking at herself – that seemed to cure her nerves at wearing an outfit that was very nearly painted on. From her neck down Willow was covered almost completely in a layer – 'make that 'a thin film', more like' – of polished black leather. From the tips of her boots to her collar the outfit sported a snakeskin pattern that, no doubt, had some kind of useful purpose, 'though seeing as Anya would've designed this,' Willow thought, 'the useful purpose is probably to highlight my body as much as possible.' The only variations were her gloves, which left her fingers free for delicate work and finished in a series of buckled straps around her wrists, and a wide matching belt with silver studs slung low around her waist, which contained various miniaturized gadgets. Quite what she was supposed to do with a miniature sonar system in a skyscraper, or an ultrasonic projector for pacifying monkeys, Willow wasn't quite sure, but she knew from accompanying Buffy and Faith on their missions that it was better to be over-prepared.

'Just in case the fortieth floor floods, and then I'm attacked by aqua- monkey commandos. Hey, lookin' good!' Willow turned around in front of the mirror, studying herself. 'Wow, look at my butt! This outfit's hiding nothing…but wow, I look good. I want to grab my butt, and I'm me!'

Willow ran a hand up the back of her thigh and over her ass, purring at the sensation. Then she struck a pose and regarded her reflection through narrowly-slitted eyes.

"The name's Rosenberg," she said in a dangerous voice, "Willow Rosenberg, secret agent. I'm commandeering you in the name of the law. No choice, ma'am," she spun around, looked at the mirror over her shoulder and grabbed her ass with both hands, "it'd be a crime against humanity to let this hotness go to waste."

"I'll make sure it doesn't," Tara said from the bathroom door. Willow saw her in the mirror, spun around to face her, realized she was still looking in the mirror, spun around more, lost her balance and fell over beside the bed with an indignant "Oof!"

"Yeah," Willow said, "fine…and not at all embarrassed by recent events which did not happen, right?"

"Right," Tara smiled, sitting down on the bed and pulling Willow down with her, onto her lap. "Never happened." Her eyes sparkled with humor as she leaned forward and gently rubbed her nose against Willow's.

"Thanks," Willow said shyly, "and you…wow…" She leaned back, getting a good look at Tara.

"You like?" Tara asked. Her outfit was thicker than Willow's, padded all over, especially the shoulders and thighs, but even so there was no mistaking the curve of her waist, the generous swell of her chest…and there was something about the sight of Tara's dark golden hair falling loosely over the soft leather covering her shoulders and neck that made Willow feel all kinds of weak at the knees.

"Well, maybe it happened," Willow said, "you know, saying it just didn't happen at all would be way too hasty, don't you think?"

"Yes," Tara agreed, "I do think." She leaned close again to brush their lips together, then gave her squeeze around the waist. "Time to go?"

Willow settled into the driver's seat of the DB9 Volante, took a moment to adjust it to her liking, then picked an earpiece from the glove compartment and put it in place.

"Only the ones telling me to ravish you," Tara's voice replied. Willow laughed softly.

"All set, the helicopter's waiting. How about you, are you in the mood for a drive?"

"Roger that," Willow said, checking her watch. With a squeal of tires the Volante roared out of its parking spot, spun smartly around ninety degrees and shot towards the ramp to street level.

Tara watched with a suppressed smile as, far below, Willow's car raced onto the street, executed another sharp skidding turn, and sped away, weaving expertly through the traffic.

"Did you learn to drive like that?" she asked. "Or did you just sit in one too many traffic jams as a child?"

"Very good advice from my instructor at the Ministry," Willow replied via the radio, "I'm an elite agent, so I'm darn well going to drive like one."

"Toujours l'audace?" Tara asked, walking away from the edge of the roof towards the waiting helicopter.

Willow glanced up to see the lights of the NYPD helicopter moving slowly overhead, patrolling in a wide arc that just happened to take it over the Osbourne Industries tower.

"I'm going in," she said, leaving the car locked with its roof closed. "Happy landings."

"Next time I'm taking the elevator," Tara complained jokingly, "and you can jump out of the moving aircraft."

"This is my stop," Tara called to the pilot, opening the door and checking her bulky missile-loaded sidearm.

"Thanks!" Tara nodded as the pilot gave her a quick salute with his free hand. She checked the straps holding her equipment packs to her back, lowered her flight goggles and stepped out onto the landing skid, sliding the door closed behind her. She waited a second for the tower to be directly beneath her, judged her landing spot as the helicopter's searchlight played across the roof, and jumped.

She fell feet-first towards the roof, aiming down between her legs with her gun, and fired just a second before it would have been too late. The miniature missile from her weapon streaked down ahead of her, hit the roof, and exploded into a viscous blob of translucent gel that rapidly expanded to be almost three meters in diameter, which Tara fell directly into. The gel slowed her descent, cushioning her perfectly, and almost as soon as it had expanded it began to evaporate, leaving Tara to drop gently to the roof, with a few stubborn patches of gel clinging to her.

She let out a tiny relieved sigh, then sniffed the air and took on a puzzled frown.

"What?" she asked quietly, peering around the corner of a column towards the bored receptionist. She raised a tiny device and aimed it at the reception desk, causing a phone to ring and giving her a moment to slip by unseen.

"She's been at the para-gel, the stupid stuff's gone banana-flavored. And…it didn't used to be this slippery, I'm sure."

"So…" Willow said, trying not to laugh as she moved towards the elevators, in a confusing pattern of sprints and sidesteps that meant the various surveillance cameras kept just missing her. "…you're on a rooftop, covered in banana-flavored lubricant?"

"Kind of wishing I was up there with you," Willow joked. "Almost at the elevator. Thirty seconds." She reached into her pocket and retrieved a blank- faced keycard, programmed to duplicate Harmony's.

"And another forty for the trip to the CEO level," Tara said, "no problem, I'll be ready."

Tara drew a pair of hand-sized bolt cutters from one of her packs and opened one of the bulky relay boxes studding the rooftop.

"Let's see now," she said quietly to herself, "office systems, air conditioning, building maintenance…security. There you are." She unstrapped her largest pack and opened it on the ground, revealing an array of ECM gear laid out like a mechanic's toolkit. Quickly and efficiently Tara began connecting the tiny devices to the building's systems, watching as each one flashed a green light in turn before she turned to the next. Various LCD screens lit up, showing security footage of the offices and corridors in the building below. Tara concentrated on the one showing Daniel's office, working at the device connected directly to it.

"You're in the clear," Tara replied. "Right now you could stage the Edinburgh Tattoo in Daniel Osbourne's office and the cameras wouldn't notice a thing."

"I don't think I should ask Anya for a bunch of soldiers, she might make assumptions."

With a muted 'ding' the elevator arrived, and Willow quickly exited it and headed for the imposing desk at the center of the huge room. She slid the laptop case she carried across it, spinning it slightly, so that it ended up just short of the far edge facing Daniel's vacant chair, which Willow sat in, dropping her backpack on the floor by her side.

"Comfy," she commented, opening the case and unfolding the machine within. The miniature CD drive opened at a touch; however instead of a disc it contained two semicircular pads attached to the machine by thin wires. Willow felt around beneath the desk and fixed them in place, causing the desk's built- in console screens to light up.

"Good," Willow grinned, "if there's no security, there's nothing worth guarding." She studied her laptop's screen, which showed window after window of system information as it dutifully tapped into the desk's network connection.

"Jackpot. There's only five known in the world," Willow said, typing furiously, "and if I were a supervillain intent on some scheme that required awesome programming, it's what I'd want to be doing my work with. What we need could be right here."

"'Can I get into it,' she asks," Willow smiled to herself, still typing. "This is my kung fu…and it is strong."

"Enter the very cute dragon," Tara chuckled. "I've got your back, go for it."

"Going for it as ordered," Willow grinned, getting into her work. She frowned briefly as a series of roadblocks popped up, then she lit up the keyboard built into Daniel's desk and began typing simultaneously on that and the laptop, one hand on each.

"Countering sixty-seven hack routines at once," she muttered, "not bad Daniel, not bad…let's see how you cope with an even hundred."

Tara watched nervously as the lights on her ECM gear flickered one by one, the green lights turning red. The sound of Willow's typing came faintly through her earpiece, and she held her breath. Her finger hovered over the button set into the base of Anya's portable ECM super-jammer – she was reluctant to touch it, not just because of its shape, but because it would certainly leave traces in the security system, even if in the short term it did knock everything out.

"Or 'a tight end'," Tara quipped, "speaking of which, I've got the plug ready if you need it."

Tiny beads of perspiration stood out on Willow's brow as she worked frantically, staring at the screen, her hands apparently flying around the keyboards on their own. At last she hit a final key and threw herself back in the chair, loudly exhaling a breath she had been holding. There was a muffled clank, then a hiss as pressurized pistons slowly started up. Willow looked around in confusion, then smiled as the entire rotating dais supporting Daniel's desk and chair began to rise up out of the floor.

"Thanks baby," Willow smiled, disconnecting her laptop, closing it, and retrieving her backpack. She walked to the edge of the slowly-rising platform and nimbly dropped to the floor, crouching down to see a huge mass of glowing circuitry and optical cables coming into view from below.

"We've found our jackpot," she reported, as the supercomputer rose into full view.

Tara peered intently at the screen showing Daniel's office, watching the banks of flashing lights and liquid-cooling tubes come into view. An in-screen display showed a reassuringly normal view of the same office, vacant and dormant, which was how the building's security guards were seeing it.

"Big and brutish," Willow replied, "no elegance to it at all, just a few thousand top-of-the-line processors all linked up together." She opened her pack and began connecting optical cables to the super-computer's I/O ports.

"The security was the good part," she explained as she worked, "this is just brute force computing. Kind of like spending all your time reinforcing the front door, and not putting any locks inside."

"I have the key," Willow grinned, "and I'm in the house wandering around at my leisure."

"Now," Willow said, connecting a final handful of cables and starting up her device, "we grab the silverware and make good our escape." She studied the code-thief's displays for a moment, then shrugged and lay down on the floor, using her laptop case as a makeshift pillow.

"There's a funny story about that," Willow grinned, "but actually, this is just going to take a while. There's lots of data in here – millions of gigabytes in each node. It'll take twenty minutes or so to beam it all up to the satellite, and thanks to the genius of A-Branch it's all automated…not much for a gal to do but wait. Gotta remember to bring travel scrabble next time."

"Have a snooze if you want," Tara chuckled, "there's no activity in the lobby, and you'll have plenty of warning if you have to move."

"Funny…this time last night I was having a snooze." She thought a moment, then pouted. "And not long after I was rudely awoken by my alarm clock."

"I remember you looked a bit ruffled that morning," Tara commented. "Were you having a nice dream?"

"Very nice, as a matter of fact." Willow smiled and idly traced a fingertip up and down her side.

"Really?" Tara grinned. "What a coincidence, I was having a very nice dream of my own around then."

Tara nodded, grinned to herself as she remembered Willow couldn't actually see her, then paused for a moment, in which her grin turned mischievous.

"I think you would too," Tara chuckled. "Remember when we met in the gym? You minded my bag while I had a quick shower?"

"I remember you having a shower, definitely. The bag, not so much. I think it must have been driven from my mind by something Tara-shaped pressed up against the glass."

"Well, in my dream," Tara sighed happily, "you didn't limit yourself to just thinking."

"No…it was daytime, but everything was the same otherwise, I was showering, you were waiting outside. I finished, turned off the shower, and…no towel. Strange, I thought, I definitely remember wearing a towel, I put it on the rail inside the shower…then behind me I heard the screen open…and there you were…"

"Right there, staring at me…smiling. I had no idea what to do, I'd only met you a moment earlier, and now here I was, stark naked in front of you, on show…I couldn't move, I thought of covering myself with my hands but the shock…or maybe I just didn't want to. The way you were looking at me…I didn't want that to stop."

"Really," Willow said, her voice shaking slightly, "how was I looking at you?"

"Hungry," Tara said at once, "like a big cat…you wanted to eat me up. Your eyes were moving over every part of me, and I could feel you thinking 'yes, I want those legs…those hips…that stomach, those breasts…those lips'…and just like a cat I knew you wouldn't take me all at once…you were going to play with me first. More fun that way."

"Yes, and I was quite the prey," Tara replied, grinning at the note of desperation in Willow's voice. "Naked, dripping wet…my skin flushed bright pink, from the heat of the water, which was still sliding down my body in droplets, dripping wherever the drops found a point to fall from – fingertips, chin…I'd been leaning forward slightly, just enough that the water wasn't running from my breasts down to my stomach, but dripping off, and I could feel each one leaving my skin…drip, drip, drip…leaving me more naked with every drop.

"'Treacherous things, towels,' you said. 'Always vanishing just when you need them.' Do I need a towel, I asked – I felt my tongue trip, 'd-do I-I', the way you were looking at me…'You're wet,' you pointed out. Something in me made me bold, I was facing my fate, with nothing to hide behind, so I didn't hide. I like being wet, I said. And you smiled again, a smile like…god, the kind of smile you'd smile when I'd come and come and come, and finally looked down, between my spread legs, and met your eyes, and you'd smile like that.

"That's how you smiled…because you'd already taken me, right there, and you knew it. No need for words, you simply looked at me and knew…knew I wanted to be played with, toyed with…and eaten. And do you know what you said to me then?"

Willow gasped and rolled over onto her stomach, pressing her cheek against the cool floor. Her hands found their way beneath her and pressed their palms together, squeezed between her leather-clad thighs.

"You touched me for the first time, a finger on my chin…lifting my head, looking me right in the eyes. When you moved, you didn't need to tell me to follow. With just a finger you led me out of the shower, into the changing room…all the other agents were busy, getting changed, using the showers…everyone could see me, and you leading me…you didn't care, I couldn't care…I couldn't do anything but follow. You led me to the bench, had me sit down. I sat with my legs together, my hands in my lap, nervous, but…that wasn't what you wanted. You used the most sparing touched, a fingertip tapping my knee, my elbow, my wrist, telling me how to move. You put my arms behind me, bent, my palms flat against my lower back…I'd never even changed out in the main room before, always used a stall…but now you had me, naked, showing myself, for you…and then…then you started to touch me."

'God,' Willow mouthed, squeezing her thighs together as tightly as she could. She flexed her hands, pushed her hips against them, but she needed more. With Tara's words sliding into her mind she sat up on her knees, and holding her breath, began to stroke her hand between her legs.

'Naughty girl' Tara thought, watching Willow on the tiny LCD screen. Her own hand strayed to her inner thigh, and she rubbed her fingertips back and forth speculatively. 'I think she's got the right idea.'

"The first touch was a kiss," she murmured, quietly lifting the edge of her leather top and undoing her pants. "A kiss, right on my left nipple. My mouth fell open as your lips closed, and I let out a startled gasp as I felt your tongue playing with me, running from the edge of my areola, which your mouth had covered completely and was bathing me in heat, right to the tip of my nipple. Beckoning me deeper into you…and I responded, my nipple grew harder and harder, trying to reach deeper into your mouth. I didn't even realize what I was doing, but I arched my back further…pressing my breast to you, into your hands as they closed around my soft flesh, squeezing…my body wanted to turn to liquid and flow into your mouth…and the liquid was building, between my legs, and I knew I would be flowing into you soon…"

Tara bit her lip for a second as she slipped a single finger deep between her thighs, parting her lips and resting between them, in the warmth and wetness.

'All mine,' Willow mouthed, leaning over, her hips rising and falling as her hand worked over her the leather encasing her mound. Her other hand strayed on her chest, pressing firmly against her breasts. Then her fingers brushed against the silver ring attached to the zipper, done up to her neck. She paused, hesitating, staring down at her body.

"I closed my eyes for a second," Tara whispered, "then opened them again…with my eyes closed, you see, only what was touching me was real, you licking, sucking, suckling one breast then the other…All the agents and officers moving about the changing room, glancing at me, shocked, surprised, none of them were there when I closed my eyes…and do you know what, Willow?"

"W-what?" Willow breathed. She licked her lips and pulled her zipper down, opening her suit to her breastbone. Wasting no time she tucked her hand beneath the leather flaps and clutched at her breasts, one then the other, remembering Tara's hands and lips on them.

"I wanted to be seen," Tara went on, "I wanted everyone…all the people who'd walk in, stop in shock at the sight of me, naked, giving myself to you…it was like being revealed to the whole world, and I wanted the whole world to see, to know…to know I'm yours…to see how I gave myself to you…how I hid nothing from you…I didn't care what they saw, what they thought…to hell with them, I wanted to be taken, by you, forever…and you did…you took me…right there, for all the world to see."

"The hell with it," she whispered to herself, pulling the zipper further down, pulling her catsuit open to reveal her breasts fully, then her stomach, and finally sliding the zipper down over her crotch, removing the barrier between her hand and its goal.

"God yes baby," she whispered, plunging a finger into herself, "I've got you, I'm in you forever…"

"Yes," Willow confirmed, quickly adding a second, panting as her juices seeped over her hand, trickling over the snakeskin patterns on the leather covering her palm and the back of her hand.

"Yes, you're in me sweetie," Tara moaned, "you took me, just like that…just like that, two fingers sliding deep, you let my breasts go free and stared at me, watching me surrender, lean back, open my legs for you, open myself to you-"

"Yes baby, give yourself to me," Willow whispered fiercely, "give me everything, I'll take you, I'm taking you…deep…tight, baby…oh god!" Her moans became rhythmic as she thrust into herself, rubbing her clit hard with her thumb on every stroke. "Yes, baby, yes, got you, take you, yes, sweet, hot, in you, in you, yes, my baby, my lover, my yes, my, my, myyy…aaaaaah…"

"Yes sweetie!" Tara gasped. "Yes do it, make me come! Oh please baby make me come, so sweet and hot and all yours all over your fingers your lips lover yes-"

"YES!" Willow screamed, as she thrust deep and convulsed, her fingers remaining buried in her throbbing sex as she shook and came, dimly aware of Tara's answering moans. "Oh god, Tara, yes! Yeh…eeeaaah…ah…ah…"

"Sweetie," Tara gasped, "my sweetie…you taste so good, my sweet Willow…"

Automatically Willow withdrew her fingers from herself and brought them to her lips, inhaling the heady scent before quickly engulfing her fingers in her mouth, hungrily sucking her juices down. She moaned around her fingers, and let herself down to the floor, rolling onto her back, staring up.

"Much better than travel scrabble." Willow grinned as she heard Tara burst into giggles.

"So then," Tara said, after she recovered her breath, "how did you like my dream?"

"Why is it they call you 'Shy Bunny' again?" Willow chuckled, listening to Tara laugh again.

"I'm not the one lying there with my clothes open from neck to crotch," she pointed out.

"Huh?" Willow frowned in confusion, then noticed the dim red glow of a security camera's indicator light. "Have you been peeping on me?"

"Sure you are," Willow smiled widely, "so, shy girl, did you get that on tape, or do I need to do an encore performance?"

"Just make sure it doesn't end up in the official mission report," chuckled Willow. "And save it…we can watch it together, later…how's the picture resolution from up there?"

"Well then, later on we'll have a screening, and I'll demonstrate all those tiny details the camera doesn't capture."

"Are you trying to seduce me? You do remember you've already got me, don't you?"

"Oh, I remember," Willow said earnestly, "I remember all right…I just like the idea of seducing you…repeatedly…"

A blinking red light got Tara's attention, and she was suddenly all business, studying the video streams from the security cameras.

"Someone's in the lobby," Tara replied. "I think…it's Daniel, I think he's coming up. Get to the lift, he's still twenty seconds from it, you can get to another floor in that time."

"Thirty seconds will give us 98%," Willow reported, "I can get out with Plan B."

"I never do," Willow replied, strapping her laptop case to her back and getting the satellite uploader ready to move. "After all, time wasted is time I'm not snuggling with you."

"Fifteen seconds," Willow said. She undid a second pocket on the uploader's backpack and slid out a long, slim cylinder with a hook and motorized winch half-way along its length. Carrying it she crossed to one of the huge windows looking out over the New York skyline, and looked up at it.

"This is going to make a heck of a noise," she commented, fishing a ring out from beneath one of the straps at her wrist.

"Found it in Anya's multi-purpose pack," Willow nodded. "Ultra-high frequency vibrating clit ring – not that I can wear it the way it's intended, but luckily it's small enough to fit anywhere. So we just…" She twisted the tiny ball holding the ring closed, winced at the thin whine as it began vibrating too fast for the eye to follow, and touched it to the massive window. In a heartbeat the flawless glass was a mass of frosty spiderweb cracks, then – with Willow ducking out of the way – it collapsed into a heap of granules, spilling over the floor inside, and falling away outside.

"On it," Willow said, sprinting back over to the uploader and disconnecting it. With a hydraulic hiss the dais began lowering itself back into the floor, returning the room to its appearance of merely an ultra-spacious office. Willow wasted no time in packing away the uploader and securing it to her back.

"Just enough time for escape plan B," Willow nodded. "You're clear to disconnect up there. See you on the ground."

"You too baby." Willow started back towards the window, then paused, and grinned devilishly. Sprinting quickly she rounded the desk and tapped the built-in computer to life, typing a quick message. Then she returned to the window, picked up the tube she had left there, and extended both ends so that it braced itself against the intact panes of glass on either side of the gap.

"My kung fu is strong," she muttered to herself, fixing the hook to her belt and ducking underneath the bar to stand on the edge of the forty-story precipice. With a deep breath she let herself fall forwards. With the winch cable taut behind her she ran down the side of the building, doing her best to ignore the fact of what she was doing, and instead thinking of it as just a big long glass plain.

Tara could help but grin as she watched Willow's descent from the edge of the roof. Her equipment was stowed back in its packs and strapped tightly to her, and she was busily fixing a fold of material to the inseam of her pants. Stretching between her arms and her sides were similar flaps.

"Too late," she said softly, seeing Daniel's head poke out of the hole in the side of his office and look down, just as Willow dropped the last couple of meters from the end of the cable and sprinted off towards the car park. With a devious grin Tara made an adjustment to her para-gel gun, removing a tiny capsule marked 'dispersal catalyst', then took a few steps back from the ledge, and ran at it as fast as she could.

"Security needs upgrading," Daniel mused grimly, staring out at the skyline, the wind whipping around him.

"Hey boss, what's that?" Harmony asked, pointing up. He looked, just in time to see Tara drop from the edge of the roof above and spread her arms and legs, pulling taut the fabric stretched between them. Her suit cupped the air beneath it, and she soared away from the building.

"Huh," Daniel noted with mild surprise. Harmony squealed in panic as Tara flipped over, dropping like a stone momentarily, and fired back towards the building. Then she rolled back onto her front, spread her limbs again, and flew away.

"Ow!" Harmony squeaked as the low-velocity shell hit her in the stomach, just before she and Daniel found themselves at the center of a rapidly- expanding blob of banana-flavored lubricant. Unlike Tara's earlier descent, the gel failed to evaporate, leaving the two villains to awkwardly claw their way free.

"God dammit my suit is ruined!" Harmony complained. "Banana-flavored too, this is just like pledge week all over again."

Doing his best to maintain a dignified air, Daniel stalked over to his desk and sat down, with a faint squelch. He glanced at the lit screen in the desk's surface, and read it, his brow furrowing slightly.

"'Your kung fu is not strong,'" Harmony read over his shoulder, "what the heck is that supposed to mean?"

Willow roared along in the Volante with the roof down, making short work of New York's infamous traffic through a combination of skill, raw engine power and calculated intimidation. She glanced to her side, into Central Park, then adjusted her rear view mirror to look up into the sky behind her.

Tara flew along above the street, descending steadily as she steered herself with minute twitches of her arms. Choosing her moment just as she neared car-roof-level she flipped her legs forward and lifted her arms, folding up her suit's wings against her body, and dropped neatly into the passenger seat of the Volante beside Willow.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked, straight-faced, as Willow grinned across at her.

"No, I thought you might drop in," Willow quipped, slowing down and starting the automatic roof on its way to closing.

"I just happened to be flying by" Tara said, opening a concealed compartment between the seats. She grinned as she produced a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

"Standard equipment in Ministry vehicles," she noted. "To celebrate successful missions. And if you're very lucky," she added in a soft purr, "we won't just celebrate with champagne."

"Let's find out," Tara replied, licking a droplet of condensation from the bottle. "Find somewhere to pull over and switch on the window camouflage system…I'm a touch more shy for real than in my dreams."

"Planning another performance?" Tara asked. "Incidentally, what was that about you not sleeping much on the plane?"

"Ah, well," Willow smiled, parking the car and hitting a button that made the windows turn opaque, "it might be more effective if I showed you…"

"I love wild berry sauce," Tara explained, smiling fondly at the pancakes in front of her and Willow on the breakfast table.

"Never tried it," Willow commented idly. Tara regarded her with an expression of disbelieving shock.

"This," Tara said seriously, "is something you'll remember forever. This is my favorite…actually, my second-favorite taste in the whole world."

"Gotta be good then," Willow smiled, flopping a pancake onto her plate and offering it to Tara. "Wild berry me up!" Tara beamed a smile and gently squeezed the plastic bottle, dripping sauce over Willow's breakfast.

"Second-favorite?" Willow asked, lowering her plate. Tara gave her a steamy smile.

"I recently discovered something that tasted better," she admitted, licking her lips. "But it's not something you can order up from the kitchen."

"Heh…well, the kitchen may not have it," Willow went on, "but, I know where there's a steady supply…" She cut a piece of pancake and popped it onto her mouth. "Hey…hey! Wow, this is good!"

Willow took a moment between bites to simply sit and stare. Secluded in their room, neither had bothered dressing to any great extent, except for the long dressing gown Tara had donned for five minutes to open the door for breakfast to be delivered, while Willow was in the bathroom. Once it was just the two of them again the gown had quickly ended up back on its hook in the wardrobe, leaving Tara gloriously naked. Willow's eyes strayed from her lips, busily consuming pieces of sauce-covered pancake, down her neck, over her breasts – 'Mmmm, Tara breasts…' – down across her abdomen, and then, impeded only slightly by the glass-topped breakfast table and the various plates and cups on it, lower still. Tara sat with one leg folded beneath her on her chair, the other stretched out ahead of her. Willow watched as her toes idly traced the contours of the wrought-iron table leg.

Willow herself wore just a light, loose crop top. She had been intending to put on boxers, or panties, or something, but seeing Tara wandering about their suite naked had derailed those plans, not to mention led to all sorts of other plans, some of which had already been carried out before breakfast arrived. Quite by accident, though, Willow had discovered it was oddly exciting to be just wearing her top – the feel of material on her shoulders, on her back, grazing over her breasts as she leant forward to take a bite of pancake and leant back again, served to remind her just how naked she was otherwise. And being so, in Tara's presence, was very exciting indeed.

Feeling bold, she reached out with her own leg and placed her foot just beneath Tara's, keeping her eyes steadily averted when Tara's foot found hers. She heard a little intake of breath, then a quiet chuckle deep in Tara's throat, and her toes began to move slowly up and down Willow's foot, from toes to ankle and back again.

"Enjoying your breakfast?" Tara asked innocently. She gently nudged Willow's foot up and began stroking the back of her calf.

"Oh, yeah," Willow smiled, trying to sound like there was no subtext, "uh- huh…"

"Round is bad?" Willow asked. Trying to appear casual – and, she had to admit, probably failing fairly obviously – she shifted her chair so that she was a little closer to Tara, and stretched out her leg straight ahead. Her toes just reached the edge of Tara's chair, and she rested there, her leg stretched between them.

"Pancakes are never bad," Tara explained with a subtle smile – her leg lifted and she began to stroke her toes along Willow's thigh. "But round is…well, it's round, you can have round pancakes wherever you go. When I'm at home I like to make funny-shaped pancakes."

"Uh-huh," Tara murmured. "You know…stars, hearts, diamonds…actually," she admitted, giving Willow's leg a little tickle by wriggling her toes, "they usually turn out just a blobs. But they're clearly blobs, not just round pancakes gone wrong. I like 'em – they're my own personal pancakes, not just anyone's. Even if they are odd blobs."

"Maybe," Tara ventured, "once we get back, you might like to have breakfast at my place? I promise blobby goodness."

They ate together for a moment more, before both their cellphones rang at the same time. They both jumped like they'd been caught, exchanged identical blushing grins, and got up to answer them.

"Call from Head Office, secure line one," the voice on Willow's said. She glanced at Tara, who had already closed her phone and picked up one of their suitcases.

"Tara honey?" she asked, as Tara put the case on the suite's dining table and undid its latches. She gave Willow a questioning look.

"Clothes?" Willow prompted. Tara looked down at herself, stifled a giggle, and went to the wardrobe.

"I would have remembered," she insisted playfully, wrapping the dressing gown around herself. She returned to the table, where Willow had opened the case, which unfolded into a satellite communications suite, complete with antenna, video screen and camera, and a state-of-the-art encryption module. "What about you?"

"I've got a top on," Willow pointed out, suppressing a mischievous grin. "The camera doesn't see down that far."

"Naughty girl," Tara laughed. Willow switched on the suite, checked the frame of the image of herself and Tara just in case, then nodded in satisfaction and keyed in her access code.

"Good afternoon agents," Winifred Burkle said as the screen lit up with an image of her in her A-Branch office. "Actually, it's still good morning for you girls, isn't it?"

"Yup, all news is good news. We've got some results back from the data you uploaded to us last night. Obviously there's a lot of standard corporate stuff – some questionable dealings, they tell me, but nothing unusual for a big company, and nothing we need to get involved with. But, one whole memory core was devoted to AI programming, and not just to make a better computer. We're still analyzing everything, but it looks like this network was the testbed for our anti-smut chip."

"Is there enough to start work on a countermeasure?" Willow asked, leaning forward to study the lines of code and hierarchy diagrams that began scrolling past in a new window. As she leaned her elbows on the table, Tara covertly glanced down to admire her bottom, obscured from the camera's view but unconsciously displayed very nicely to Tara herself.

"Plus, this is work-in-progress data – this network wasn't the one they used to create the final programming for the chip. This'll give us a lot of help, but we need to extract more information from Osbourne if we want to be sure we can block the chip's functioning. Ideally, of course, we'll be able to keep the chip's programming from going live in the first place, but it pays to be prepared."

"Ye-um! Uh, yeah," Willow agreed, blushing as she felt Tara's hand leisurely stroking her ass.

"So," Tara said from behind her, perfectly composed, "our next move is to pursue Daniel Osbourne further?" Willow bit her lip to stifle a whimper of pleasure as her fingers slid between her ass cheeks and ran up and down the crevice.

"That's our assessment too," Fred agreed. "We regard a second mission to Osbourne Tower as having a low probability of turning up anything useful – the 2% of data we didn't get is unlikely to shed any new light on this, and it's far more likely that the network has been cleansed of anything incriminating by now."

"Uh-huh," Willow nodded vaguely. Her eyes widened noticeably as Tara's hand strayed lower, between her legs, and her fingertips began gently stroking Willow's lips.

"'Human intelligence', then?" Tara asked. "What leads do we have on Osbourne?" She insinuated a finger between Willow's lips and stroked back and forth, smiling to herself at the gathering of moisture there. Willow struggled to control her breathing.

"We've got what our analysts think is a promising lead," Fred said. "Your upload was commendably thorough, Agent Adorabunny – among the data we got Osbourne's entire appointment schedule from his personal system."

"He knows his security has been compromised," Tara explained, teasing Willow's opening.

"There's one we think he won't. He has tickets for the Wonder Ball, tomorrow. Given that we now know Osbourne is anti-smut, and the ball has a reputation for being a bit of a wild night, within the confines of respectable behavior of course, we think the only reason he'd attend would be for an arranged rendezvous."

"Can you get us tickets?" Tara asked. "What do you think, Willow? Would you like to go to the ball?"

"Tickets, no," Fred explained, "the guest list is secured months in advance. But we have got a scenario to get you in regardless. Jenkins is preparing an equipment package, you'll pick it up in LA. You've got a flight there at 7pm, your time, the operation will commence the next morning. Details will be in the package."

"Good luck, Bunnies," Fred wished them. "Have fun at the ball, too – don't forget your License to Thrill applies, so you shouldn't have any trouble blending in with the party-goers." Her image disappeared from the screen, and the communications suite automatically folded back into its case.

"Who, me?" Tara asked, all innocence. "Our breakfast got interrupted, remember? I was feeling a bit hungry." She extracted her hand from between Willow's legs and delicately licked her fingertips clean. Willow took a shuddering breath and rolled over, lying back on the table.

Willow strolled into the bathroom just as Tara had finished drying herself off from her shower, with her hair still wet and dark, clinging to her neck and shoulders. Tara gazed warmly at her, taking in with considerable desire her outfit – a thin gold chain around her waist – and with some curiosity the fact that she was obviously holding something behind her back.

"Cacofonix?" Tara asked with a guileless smile. "I'll introduce you some time," she added at Willow's blank look.

"Shakespeare," the redhead clarified. "It seemed appropriate – 'Tickle me, do I not laugh; lick me, do I not squeal-'"

"First draft," Willow said, "it was going to be 'The Sexy Jewish Hottie of Venice', and Miss Shylock and Portia – who just happened to be a breathtakingly sensual blonde – fell in love and lived happily ever after."

"Oh, they came out of the closet, and Antonio stopped being a jerk thereafter," Willow explained airily.

"Censors got wind of it, some stuffy people complained," Willow shrugged idly, "Shakespeare took all the hotness out, and it went all spiteful and nasty. That happens when you don't get enough sexiness in your day, you know."

"Uh-huh," Tara nodded, "luckily I don't have to worry about that myself, what with a certain sexy Jewish hottie parading around in a lovely little gold chain and nothing else." She gave Willow a knowing smile.

"You like it?" Willow beamed at the compliment. "I thought you'd appreciate a little decorative touch."

"I appreciate you," Tara said, standing before Willow and tenderly stroking her cheek, "decorated or not. It does look beautiful on you though."

"Thank you," Willow sighed happily, leaning her face against Tara's gentle touch.

"You're welcome," Tara murmured. "So, are you going to tell me what you're holding behind your back, or do I have to guess?" She craned her neck a little to peep over Willow's shoulder, but Willow was too quick for her, swaying to one side to keep her view obscured.

"Well I was," she said, "you never let me finish my quote." Tara laughed softly, and stood back.

"As I was saying," Willow nodded, raising one hand in the stereotypical soliloquy-delivering posture while keeping the other hidden, "'Tickle me, do I not laugh; lick me, do I not squeal; have your wicked way with me while I'm in front of a communications console and have to pretend that nothing untoward is going on," she paused for breath, "shall I not get you back?"

Tara's smile broadened into a sexy grin, and she crossed her arms, regarding Willow speculatively.

"Oh really? And just how do you plan to get me back?" she asked. Willow brought her hand from behind her back, and held a soft satin blindfold up for Tara to see.

"If you want to find out," she offered. Tara smiled, bit her lip, then reached for the blindfold and lifted it to her face. She paused, just before covering her eyes.

"My safe word is 'aquarium'," she said softly, and slipped the elastic strap over her head, pulling the blindfold tight across her eyes.

"I know," Tara interrupted her gently, "I know, sweetie. I trust you. I'm telling you so that you never have to stop and ask…about anything. Just do." She gave Willow, who had not moved since she donned the blindfold, an inviting grin.

Willow took a step closer to her and gently brought their lips together, opening just to nibble on Tara's lower lip and breathe in her sigh.

"Thank you," she whispered. Then she stepped back and looked slowly up and down Tara's full height, from her feet to the top her head, missing nothing in between.

"Now, are you ready for the Hottie of Venice to have her way with you?" she grinned.

"I am," Tara nodded, "for your quality of hotness is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven. And sweetie, my heaven is gently raining just thinking about it." She chuckled, and Willow laughed out loud.

"Come on then, my beautiful bard," she said, taking Tara's hand and leading her out into the bedroom, "I've got a play consisting of several acts that I intend to perform."

"Oh you get to do more," Willow promised, "it's interactive. Bed, honey." She led Tara gently forward until she found the bed in front of her and sat on the edge. "Lie down, relax." Tara obediently lifted her legs onto the bed, shifted towards its center, and stretched herself out atop it. Willow's grin widened alarmingly as she studied the nude form before her. 'Oh yes baby,' she promised herself, 'this is going to be fun!'

"Act the first," she said, kneeling next to Tara and leaning down to murmur into her ear, "in which we introduce our players…those being your senses, my darling. Seeing as your lovely, lovely eyes are indisposed for the moment," she stroked a finger over Tara's blindfold, then down to the tip of her nose, "we'll confine ourselves to your other senses. The first…sound…in which I whisper in your luscious ears…" Willow lay down and rested her head beside Tara's on the pillow, close enough to reach out and lick her earlobe, "…all kinds of delicious, delightful, naughty things." She chuckled to herself. "And just because it's kind of in the right theme, I'm going to be playing with your ear, a lot," she added, beginning with a kiss.

"Like that?" Willow asked. "You know I've heard people compare ears to seashells, but I never quite got that until now…I mean, the shape obviously, but why it's a sensual observation to make…oh, but now I see why…it's all to do with the curve…" She ran her tongue along the top of Tara's ear, around from the front to the back. Tara whimpered happily.

"Lovely curve," Willow whispered, leaning in close to her breath wafted across Tara's skin, "so smooth, perfect, round, so delicate…but strong too, firm…it doesn't give way when you lick it, oh no…see-" she gave Tara's ear another lick, to demonstrate, "-it's not just me to you, it's you to me as well…you feel me running my tongue across this lovely ear of yours…I feel you on my tongue, firmly…it's exciting…it's saying 'yes, come on, I can take it', isn't it?"

"Then we move down," Willow purred on, "and we have your earlobe…soft, pliable…some people would overlook this, but that'd be silly of them, wouldn't it? We can have so…much…fun…right here…like this-" Willow took Tara's earlobe into her mouth and sucked on it, running her tongue back and forth over the little nub of soft flesh, nibbling, but always sucking, keeping up the strong, steady sensation as Tara moaned, then drew shuddering breaths, then writhed, and finally couldn't keep herself from arching her back off the bed and crying Willow's name out loud.

Only then did Willow release her, smiling to herself as Tara settled back down, murmuring contentedly as her breathing steadied.

"See?" she asked. "I bet some people would think it's kind of odd, devoting all this attention to your ear…nuh-uh, not me – there's not a single bit of you I don't intend to make love to, fully and exhaustively…"

"I know, sweetheart," Willow replied, "I know…and I'm going to show you just how much I love you…oh yes I am…but you have to be a good girl, and not distract me…because you could, very easily…I wouldn't even try to stop you, you could just roll over, kiss me…run your hands all over me…all over, everywhere and anywhere…squeeze my breasts, make me gasp in delight, that much easier for you to taste deep inside my mouth…trap my tongue between your teeth, trap me and play with me…work your way down my neck, sucking my skin, marking me, while you squeeze and knead my breasts, roll my nipples between your fingers, squeezing and pinching and tormenting me, yes baby, sweet torment just how I love it, making me moan like a wild thing and buck beneath you, pressing into you…" She chuckled to herself, and brushed her lips very softly over Tara's ear, eliciting a desperate whimper from her. Tara was breathing rapidly, swallowing, barely able to keep still as she lay beside Willow.

"You'd move lower then, wouldn't you?" Willow went on. "Now that my nipples are all…prepared…for your mouth…your hands would grip my waist, firmly, commandingly, you'd hold me to keep me still while you slowly, oh god torturously slowly licked your way down from my neck to my chest, kissing me every inch of the way. Little kisses, little reminders of who's claiming who, kisses on my skin saying 'Mine, mine, mine', isn't that right? Yes, that's right…and finally you'd come to my breasts, my nipples, standing up so hard and firm, so that just the tiniest touch would rock through me. Oh, but no mercy for me, oh no…no, you'd give me just one feather-light lick to let me know what's in store, then…then take me, you'd close your mouth around my poor, straining nipple, and suck, suck, suck, oh god endless, like a hungry baby, as if you're sucking my soul out of my body, sucking and drinking my essence as it flows into your mouth, down into your heart, filling you up…you've got such a vivid imagination," she quipped, smiling as Tara abruptly giggled.

"And of course the best thing is that I have an endless supply of soul for you," she continued. "You can suckle to your heart's content, and I'll never deny you, I'm always yours for the taking…always so willing and eager and ready to be consumed by you…so from one nipple to the other, as I'm gasping for breath, tears of delight streaming over my cheeks, I can scarcely believe you're about to begin again, but you do, and amid all the wonderful pleasure, I barely notice you nudging my legs apart, reaching down, testing the waters, the well of hot juice brimming over from my pussy…but I notice when you touch me…"

"Ah, what happens next," Willow smiled, "well, the first act is a tease, it's got to leave you wanting more…and maybe you can find out for yourself, some time…would you keep me on the edge? Or make me come right away, because that would only be the first of so many, many times I'd feel myself contract, shudder, around your fingers, your tongue, feel myself flowing out into your waiting mouth…I wonder…"

"Good," Willow murmured, sliding to the edge of the bed and getting to her feet. "Good, because act two is where we move up a gear. You've had your teasing, now it's time to deliver…can you guess which sense act two will be? I'll give you a clue." She reached over and ran a single fingertip from Tara's hip down her thigh.

"Very good," Willow giggled, "touch…and it just so happens that I have some props that I think you'll enjoy, very much."

"Yes?" Tara asked, stretching her limbs, her hands pressing against the head of the bed, her toes pointing straight down, almost reaching the foot.

"Patience," Willow smiled, "you'll find out soon." 'God only knows what Anya was thinking when she packed some of this stuff,' she thought, retrieving the items she had selected earlier from the dizzying array of bits and pieces in their luggage. First she pulled onto her hands a pair of gloves coated with the most exquisitely fine imitation fur. Willow had tested them on herself, briefly – she would have lost track of time had she been any less brief when she stroked the gloves across her stomach – and found them marvelously soft, silky and sensual. According to the manual, they could generate enough static discharge to wipe any magnetic disk within five meters of them when rubbed together, but only when connected to a pair of bracelet, which Willow had left safely packed away. 'We don't want to be electrifying, except in the metaphorical sense,' Willow sniggered to herself.

"Touch," she said, getting back on the bed and straddling Tara's calves, "the skin, as you know, is the body's largest single organ, so I can hardly ignore such a prominent part of you, especially when it's so smooth, so silky, so delightful to stroke, caress, rub, grip, kiss, nip, bite, lick…" She took a deep breath to steady herself, and chuckled throatily. "I did have this formula all ready to tell, roughly, how much surface area there is, but you know, something about having you all stretched out and naked beneath me just drove it right out of my mind." She laughed casually. "Rest assured, though, I won't ignore a single square millimeter of your beautiful…soft…smooth skin."

"Ooh!" Tara exclaimed as Willow's gloved hands closed on her hips and began sliding down her thighs, "oh god…oh that feels, oh…divine…" Willow grinned with satisfaction as she massaged Tara's thighs with long, lingering strokes, gently kneading the firm muscles as she drew the silken fur across her skin.

"You know what," she said, stroking her way down to Tara's knees, "this really emphasizes just how beautiful you are…head to toe…"

"Rea- ah! Heh!" Tara suddenly burst out laughing as Willow caressed the backs of her knees.

"Ticklish, eh?" Willow grinned, moving further down to her calves, again giving the muscles a good, firm grip as she moved back and forth for a moment.

"Uh-huh, I'll file that away for future reference," Willow promised, "just in case you should ever somehow discover that I'm not entirely immune to the effects of the common tickle myself…mmm, look here, lovely feet." Willow lifted Tara's feet one by one, using her free hand to caress each all over while she held her heel, while Tara shuddered her way through various reminiscences of breakfast, and dreaming about dream-Willow's stocking-clad foot rubbing against her naked sex.

"Moving on," Willow said, bestowing a kiss on each big toe before sliding her hands back up Tara's legs. "Onwards and upwards, lift up baby…" Tara obediently lifted her hips off the bed as Willow slid her gloved hands under her thighs, and up to cup her ass, which she gripped firmly.

"Oh this is lovely," she murmured, alternately squeezing and stroking Tara's cheeks, "some time in the not too distant future I'm going to spend a long time indeed just loving your beautiful, sexy ass."

"Oh yes," she went on, "you're truly remarkable, baby…so…" she nudged apart Tara's legs and knelt between them, letting Tara's thighs rest atop hers, leaving her hips suspended off the bed without any strain on Tara to hold her position.

"So," she repeated, her voice thickening with desire, "I'll stroke and caress…kiss…lick…nibble…you'd like that, my sweetheart? Feel my teeth grip the flesh of your ass, bite every so gently…grrr," she growled, trying not to giggle.

"Maybe not just the cheeks," Willow said softly, slowly, "if you want…I could…" She gently ran one hand down over Tara's ass, her fingertips trailing along the crevice between her cheeks, and she slowed and rubbed a gentle circle when she felt the indentation there, tenderly stroking Tara's hidden rose.

"Then I certainly won't neglect you there," Willow promised. With slow, gentle motions she slid her legs from beneath Tara and lowered her hips to the bed, moving up to straddle her waist as she stroked the gloves up her sides, skirting around her breasts.

"I love you," Tara whispered, and Willow's heart melted at the smile on her lips.

"I love you," she echoed, "and I most certainly will love you, in every way…every possible way you want, my darling Tara…"

"Oh god," Tara whimpered, arching off the bed to press herself into Willow's hands, "god, take me…"

"I will," Willow promised, "I absolutely will." She reached beneath Tara, caressing her back, then lowered her to the bed and took each arm in turn, closing her hands in a ring around each and sliding from shoulder to the tips of her fingers. Lastly, and most delicately, she cupped Tara's face, stroking her fur-covered fingers up and down her cheeks, and held her gently while she brushed a fleeting kiss across her lips.

"You'll notice," she whispered, "we've skipped a couple of, shall we say, 'crucial areas'…"

"Uh-huh," Tara nodded slightly, as if this kind of thinking was a bit beyond her at the moment.

"That's a little clue that the act of touching is not yet complete," Willow smiled, removing the gloves and tossing them on the floor. "Because there are, of course, many kinds of touch, many sensations to try…"

Willow chuckled, and moved to kneel next to Tara, reaching over her shoulder for her second 'prop', a jug of iced water she had positioned on the bedside table. She stifled a giggle as she put her fingertips into the icy water, and drew out a single cube of ice.

"I wonder if you know what I've got in mind," she said, "or will this come as a surprise?" Half-way through 'surprise' she touched the corner of the ice cube to Tara's left nipple for just a second before lifting it away.

"Sent a chill down your spine?" Willow joked, applying the ice to Tara's other nipple, again just for an instant.

"Ahh! God…yes…ah!" she exclaimed again, as Willow quickly touched the ice to one nipple, then the other, sometimes for a second, sometimes holding it there as icy water trickled down onto her crinkling areolae. By the time Willow sat back and admired her work, Tara was a writhing mass of desire, with her two nipples painfully erect.

"And what goes with cold?" Willow asked. "Like night and day…black and white…cold and…" She leaned over and closed her mouth over Tara's left nipple, sucking hungrily.

"Hot!" Tara exclaimed, "oh god hot! Yes! Oh god…yes…" she trailed off as Willow sat back again.

"That's right," Willow grinned, leaning back down over Tara's heaving breasts, "cold and hot, hot and cold, which comes next…" she let Tara feel the heat of her breath wafting over her right nipple, then quickly touched the ice to her left. "…nobody knows," she concluded happily, as Tara gasped and moaned and writhed.

"Oh god baby," Tara whimpered, "god, I- ah! Oh, god…" Willow began quickly stroking Tara's nipples to an even more urgent state of attention, licking, sucking, running the rapidly-melting ice cube over them, left and right, hot and cold, in no pattern at all, catching Tara by surprise each time. "Oh baby, ye-es! Yes…ah! Oh my god, oh my- oh! I…god! Willow- ah! Ah, sweetie, yes- yes!"

"Like that, my lovely?" Willow asked, dropping the remaining tiny lump of ice in Tara's belly button, earning one last aroused squeal.

"Oh Willow, god…I feel…god, I've never felt anything like what you make me feel…is there some special training at the Ministry I don't know about?"

"No baby," Willow laughed, "you're just pure inspiration…how are those delightfully lickable nipples feeling?"

"Oh sweetie you have no idea," Tara moaned, "I…god, like they're pumped full to bursting of white-hot molten steel, like if they're just touched I…god, I can't even imagine it…"

"Touched like this?" Willow asked innocently, dragging a fingertip up the underside of the left straining nipple to the tip.

"Ah! God!" Tara yelled. "Oh baby, sweetie, that's bliss and torture, I almost came baby, just from that, just from that I swear I'm so close…"

"Are you," Willow breathed, "well…I did have one more step in mind, but…" Tara swallowed, gripped two handfuls of the sheets beneath her, and arched her back, presenting her breasts to Willow.

"Are you sure?" Willow asked, her teasing tone giving way to genuine concern. "If it'd hurt-"

"You don't even know what it is," Willow pointed out, caressing Tara's shoulder idly to let her know their debate wasn't upsetting her.

"I love you so much," Willow whispered. She quickly scuttled off the bed and retrieved her next 'prop', a pair of slim silver nipple clamps linked by a delicate chain that, connected to the proper socket, would serve equally well as a radio antenna. Willow had tested them on herself earlier, to be sure they didn't bite too hard. Now she bit her lip, contemplating closing the tiny metal jaws on Tara's waiting, straining nipples. She got back on the bed and once more settled herself atop Tara's hips, straddling her.

"For you, sweetie," Tara whispered, "I'm so far beyond ready…" Willow leaned down, held the two clips in each hand, keeping the chain up with her wrists, so that Tara wouldn't feel it training on her skin before she was ready. She swallowed, suddenly nervous as she stared in wonder at Tara's luscious, full breasts, and her nipples which still stood so proud and erect it was a wonder Tara could endure it at all.

"Now, hold still," Willow breathed, opening the tiny clamps and slipping them onto Tara's nipples, not yet letting go. Tara gasped at the tiny touch of the metal against her nipples, and made a quiet, urgent keening sound in the back of her throat.

"Now?" Willow whispered, afraid almost to speak in what seemed suddenly to be a sacred moment in time.

"Now," Tara replied, her voice equally hushed. Willow let the clamps close on Tara's nipples.

"Oh GOD!" Tara yelled at the top of her voice, bucking like a bronco beneath Willow. "God! Oh ghh…ah…AH! YES! Oh god yes! Yes!" Her whole body shook uncontrollably as she squirmed and heaved beneath Willow, and Willow recognized the signs, in her body and her voice, of her climax breaking over her. She quickly swung herself off Tara's waist and pressed her palm against her sex, feeling an uncontrolled flood of juice already coating her soft, swollen folds.

"Yes!" Tara cried out, feeling her touch, "yes do it, do it Willow, oh god, god, fuck me!"

Willow was so surprised to hear Tara, normally so soft-spoken, say 'fuck' that she didn't even realize for a moment that she had slid two fingers into her pussy and was vigorously thrusting, stroking inside her, searching for and finding her g-spot as was quickly becoming second nature since their first time together. It was a combination of the feeling of Tara's second orgasm, flowing over and between and past her fingers, and Tara's full-throated appreciation, that brought the realization to Willow. And in turn, she was so surprised by that that she didn't realize her other hand was between her own legs, firmly pressing against her soaking labia, her palm rubbing her clit.

She bit her lip when she realized, holding herself in check – 'Hers,' she fiercely promised herself, 'this belongs to her!' She turned her full attention back to Tara, who was rapidly reaching the crest of a third climax, which Willow determined to make most spectacular. Aided by Tara's copious lubrication she added a third finger within her, feeling with each thrust the heady sensation of Tara's tight passage welcome her, and with her free hand, still dripping with her own juices, she quickly undid the clamps from her nipples, earning another ear-splitting yell of ecstasy. Tara's hands flew to Willow's wrists, holding her tightly, one hand pressed flat against her chest, between her heaving breasts, the other pumping between her legs, guiding Willow's fingers to drive into her, to mercilessly release another orgasm which crashed and rocked and broke through her like a huge wave striking a cliff and thundering high into the air. Tara literally rose off the bed, on her shoulders and heels, the rest of her body taut as a bowstring, then she crashed down and thrust her hips wildly against Willow's penetrating fingers, each thrust accompanied by a surge of hot nectar from deep within her core.

Willow gently withdrew and hugged Tara, who clutched her fiercely as her body shook, whispering, "Willow, sweetie, oh god, my Willow, my Willow…"

"That…Willow…that was…I…god…" Her hands, roving around Willow's back, went to her waist and held her tightly. "I want you Willow, right now, I want you so bad…please Willow, I need you, I need to love you right now…"

"Well," Willow admitted, "I did have one more act planned, scent and taste – they're very closely linked, you know-"

"Let me just get one thing?" Willow murmured. "I promise you'll like it." Tara took a deep breath to steady herself, then let go of Willow's waist and smiled a broad, sensual smile.

"Don't take long," she breathed, "I want my tongue in you when you come…and I want it really soon…"

'Oh god,' Willow marveled. "You'll get it," she promised, sliding to the side of the bed, "you'll get everything I've got, sweetheart, and more."

Just beyond Tara's reach she rolled onto her back and reached for her final 'accessory', the half-filled bottle of wild berry sauce from breakfast. 'How do I think up these naughty thoughts?' she mused, as she upended the bottle, keeping her fingertip over the opening. Looking back at Tara – stretching once more, taking deep, luxuriant breaths, her chest heaving in anticipation – she parted her thighs, gently slipped the smooth top of the bottle into her opening, and squeezed.

"Ooooh!" she exclaimed, fighting to keep her voice to a whisper as she felt the warm sauce flow into her pussy. Tara, still blindfolded, nevertheless turned her head towards her, hearing her hushed delight. Willow bit her lip to keep silent, and carefully squeezed the bulk of the remaining sauce into herself, removing the bottle while a little still remained in it. 'Don't want to accidentally give myself an air embolism just when I'm about to have the greatest experience of my life,' she giggled silently. 'Play safe, play happy…oh god this is going to be…no, not going to, this is now!'

"You want to taste me, my Tara?" she asked, clamping her palm firmly over her sex as she rolled back over and moved to straddle Tara's shoulders, kneeling above her head.

"I've got a surprise for you," Willow grinned lasciviously, "I think you'll like my flavor even more." She withdrew her hand and lowered herself, tilting her head back and, idly, licking the trace of sauce that had leaked onto her palm, when she felt Tara's lips and tongue make contact with her.

"Mmm- Mmmmm!" Tara moaned in surprise, and then utter delight. All pretence of passivity left her as she reached both arms around Willow's thighs, holding her tightly, and pressed her open mouth squarely over Willow's sex, engulfing her folds, while her tongue eagerly parted them and sought more of the heady combination of flavors within her. Willow lost her voice for a moment, completely helpless as Tara held her and devoured her, reaching as far into her as humanly possible, coaxing her simmering release quickly to fruition.

"Oh…" Willow sighed, her voice returning, "oh…uh, uh, oh yes, yeah, yeeea- oh, oh, oh, Oh, OH YES!" She started to fall backwards, then sat suspended, held upright purely by Tara's strong grip on her thighs and hips, her arms trailing behind her, head lolling back, giving voice to a shapeless wail of delight as Tara ceaselessly, remorselessly consumed the bounty of her sex. The soft glow of the ceiling light played in her open eyes, becoming streaks of light, stars, waves of light, flashbulbs going off in her head, and always, always the constant, unyielding sensation from her core, as if her inner being itself was swelling up, pushing along her passage, flowing from her into Tara, deep into her, joining them…

"Willow?" Willow heard. She blinked slowly, focusing on the most beautiful sparkling blue eyes she had ever seen. "Willow?"

"Never left," Willow sighed contentedly, "just…I was with you, so with you I had to stop being everything else, I think…you get it?"

"Good," Willow murmured. "Well, you just let me know whenever you're feeling saucily-inclined, and I'll be more than happy to serve some up for you."

"Just so long as it's always 'served' in the same way," Tara giggled. Willow joined her laughter, and snuggled closer to her.

"We still don't have to leave for hours," Tara went on, "if you want…maybe we could order up some more sauce, and you can tell me what wild Tara tastes like?" Willow's eyes widened almost as much as her grin.

Tara took a long look at the cruise liner moored half a mile off the beach, then handed the binoculars to Willow.

"Once or twice," Tara smiled, "or, maybe, a few hundred times this morning…about as many as I've said you're scorching."

As their current disguise, each wore a red one-piece swimsuit, with a life guard logo, and had a pair of standard red life guard floats resting by their feet in the sand. Standing beside one of the beach's life guard stations, none of the beach's many local and visiting patrons seemed to take them for anything but what they appeared to be, though truth be told, Tara was getting a little tired of the teenage boys staring at her and Willow. The disguise had seemed an odd choice when they unpacked the mission kit waiting for them in LA – but then again, Anya had managed to fit a phenomenal amount of hardware into the floats.

"The kids at ten o'clock are trying to take pictures of us with their cellphone again," she muttered to Willow.

"Oops," Willow said idly, pressing a hidden button on the whistle around her neck, "cellphones are so unreliable." Tara couldn't quite resist a grin as the teenagers frowned in confusion at their phones, for the third time this morning.

"She's a beauty," Willow went on, drawing Tara's attention back to the distant liner.

"The Disco Volante," Tara said, "the liner of the disgustingly rich and famous – provided the famous are also disgustingly rich."

"And every year she hosts the Wonder Ball," Willow added, "the biggest and most glamorous costume ball this side of Venice…you sure you're not telling me what costume you asked Anya for?"

"You'll find out," Tara grinned, "all in good time. What about you? The theme this year is 'sex symbol', who will you be dressing up as that turns you on?"

"There's one obvious idea," Willow shrugged, "but it wouldn't really be a covert operation if I went dressed as Agent Shy Bunny, would it? You'll see mine when I see yours, all in good time."

Tara chuckled, then turned to look back at the street behind a beach, looking for the source of the sudden sound of squealing tires. A bright red Lamborghini Diablo had screeched to a halt fifty meters further on, and now reversed quickly to come to a halt directly behind the two agents.

"Can't be," Tara muttered, as the driver's side door swung up and the driver emerged, a tanned brunette, her hair done up, whose outfit left her back bare.

"Hmm?" Willow asked, turning to see what Tara was looking at. Her eyes bugged out somewhat as the driver turned towards them and sauntered down from the street. Her tan was all-over, which was evident simply because her attire was almost exactly the opposite – she wore a red thong bottom, about as revealing as possible without breaking any local laws, and the reason her back was bare was that her front was too, except for a thin gold nipple ring adorning the left of her full, firm breasts.

"Cordy?" Tara replied, stunned. Willow was herself stunned when the half- naked nymph threw her arms around Tara and hugged her tightly, Tara returning the hug, a little hesitantly at first.

"Um, Cordy," Tara said as she extricated herself, "this is Willow Rosenberg…Willow, Cordelia Chase."

"Hi Willow," Cordelia replied brightly, shaking her hand vigorously, apparently oblivious to the effect this had on her assets. "Let me guess, stakeout?" Willow looked at Tara, surprised.

"Cordelia was with the Ministry," Tara explained, "she used to be a Bunny. My mentor, in fact, when I was first promoted."

"And she was my best student," Cordelia smiled warmly, "though, shy, hence the codename – I gave it to her, you know."

"And you're still quite the opposite," Tara smiled, regaining her composure somewhat.

"Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it," Cordelia said, living up to the motto. "So, you two are partners?"

"Sorry," Cordelia smiled, waving it off, "force of habit, you know me, gossip queen…no problem. Hey look, I can't stay – gotta bend a few driving laws, I'm late already – but we'll catch up if you're still around in a couple of days, huh?"

"Nice to meet you Willow," Cordelia said, giving her a bright grin, "Tara, looking great, see you soon. Bye girls!" She turned and headed back to her car, while Tara shook her head with a rueful smile, and Willow stared after her in mild amazement.

"Okay," she said at last, as the Diablo squealed its tires and took off at breakneck speed, "between you and her, yes, I can see why you got the name 'Shy Bunny'."

"That's Cordy all right," Tara shrugged. "For a moment I was wondering if we'd have to rename you 'Stare Bunny'," she added with a chuckle.

"I wasn't- okay I was," Willow admitted, "but not in a wrong way, just, yikes, breasts where breasts weren't expected to be- well, expected, but clothed would usually be the thing, out in public in broad daylight-"

"It's okay," Tara assured her, "just teasing…Cordy's like that, she's…well, she's not shy, in a big way with the 'not'. She was one of the best, you know – Queen Bunny."

"That was Queen Bunny?" Willow asked. "I didn't realize…I mean I'd heard the codename talked about, but…wow. You were trained by Queen Bunny?" She grinned at Tara. "No wonder you're amazing."

"Sweet-talker," Tara smiled. She glanced over Willow's shoulder. "Oh, watch out, I think they've got their phones working again."

"I could just shoot 'em," Willow said idly, pressing the button on her whistle again.

Cordelia swung her Lamborghini into a parking spot and switched off the engine, glancing around to check for anyone who might see her. She then cupped her left breast and lifted it, leaning down at the same time. At a squeeze, the ball in her nipple ring glowed red.

"They're here," Cordelia told him, "they've got the Disco Volante under surveillance."

"They can't get on board," Daniel said, "they're not on the guest list, and security it water-tight."

"If you say so. Alright, come aboard, I'll have security clear you. If need be, you can take care of them once they're on the ship."

"They're prepping the helipad for another guest," Tara noted, still watching the distant cruise liner through her binoculars.

"Getting close." Willow's attention was also fixed on her binoculars, but instead of magnifying the view ahead of her, a pair of stereoscopic LCD screens were showing her the view from a remote submarine probe, currently nearing the hull of the Disco Volante from beneath.

"Careful," she muttered to herself, adjusting the focus control on the binoculars slightly. Half a mile away the probe altered its course, dipping down to stay far enough beneath the water's surface as to be invisible from above. Safely concealed, Willow brought the probe's nose back up, and the underside of the huge liner swung back into view.

"I can see a few security guards here and there," Tara commented, "just doing their rounds. Nothing unusual. I'd bet they don't have a clue about their little uninvited guest."

"Not surprising," Willow chuckled, "that 'guest' is sonar-proof. But we're not, so this'll require some tricky piloting…there it is."

"Right where Fred's blueprints said it'd be," Willow nodded. "Doesn't look like they're using it, the outer shield is closed up tight…I guess no-one's interested in taking a tour of the sea bed when there's partying to be done…and there's our little sentry."

"Sonar scanner, right above it." Willow adjusted her view from the probe, zooming in. "Nice one too, I bet that gives a very precise scan. We'll have to do something about that."

The probe, a tiny remote-controlled robot submarine, spun down its maneuvering propellers and drifted for a moment. Tiny ports opened on its hull, fore and aft, and a minute ripple signaled where water was being drawn in at the front and pushed out behind. Leaving scarcely a ripple in its wake, the probe began to close in on the liner's large submarine hatch.

"Contact with flight, civilian Sierra Echo X-Ray Yankee One," the radio officer reported. "Pilot gives the word as 'banana'."

On the half-dozen screens around the bridge showing the sonar read-outs from the ship's various scanners, none registered even a blip.

Just above the submarine hatch the remote probe swung gently around, parallel to the hull, and settled against it with barely a sound. Tiny magnetic coils extended and gripped the hull, keeping it in place.

A side panel opened, and a delicate mechanical arm extended towards the sonar scanner which protruded from the hull just half a meter away.

"Now here's the tricky part," Willow muttered. "Sonar receiver on, taking point one per cent signal strength…let me know if they suddenly start racing around like someone's kicked over an ant hill."

"No trouble so far," Tara reported. She lowered her binoculars and gave the beach a quick glance before looking back at the ship. "In fact, our teenage admirers have given up and moved on."

"I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed," Willow quipped. "If it'd been me, I'd have stared at you all day."

"If it'd been you," Tara grinned back, "you'd have been able to do more than just look."

"Got a signal," Willow reported, all business. "One, two, three, four, five, six, sev- Six and a half second scan cycle."

"A couple of years ago, it wouldn't have been," Willow said, adjusting the binoculars' hidden controls, "but then, a couple of years ago we didn't have the gorgeous miniaturized processors we've got now. Five would've been enough. Now, we just have to record the outgoing and incoming signal, interpolate, then clamp our little friend's 'blindfold' over the scanner and give it signals to make it think it's still seeing an empty ocean floor."

"Then," Willow grinned, "we could swim out there towing an inflatable sheep behind us, and that scanner still wouldn't register so much as a blip."

"Do we have an inflatable sheep?" Tara wondered. Willow chuckled, then suddenly frowned in thought.

The probe's robot arm reach out towards the sonar scanner, paused a moment, then moved over it. Tiny cushioned pads closed over the scanner, blinding it, and the probe settled once more into immobility.

"I can't see inside," Tara said, keeping her binoculars trained on the liner, "but nothing looks urgent on deck. The detachment on the helipad has gone, but it didn't look like a rapid redeployment, the guards just stood down and wandered off. Wait a moment, I'll go to thermal." She fiddled with the binoculars, then squinted into them.

"I don't think so. It's not easy to see, there's a lot of heat bouncing around, and at this range…everything looks fairly still though. I can't resolve individual people on the bridge, but it doesn't look like anyone's moving around much. I'd say you've successfully pulled the wool over their eyes."

"I'm starting to worry about you," Tara grinned back. She collected Willow's binoculars and handed them, and her own pair, to the lifeguards manning the look-out.

"Let's get wet," Tara quipped. Willow leaned over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, then the pair took off at a steady jog towards the water.

"Running along the beach, in these outfits," Willow gestured at her baywatch swimsuit, "shouldn't we be doing this in slow-motion?" Tara stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"You goof," she laughed, putting an arm around Willow's shoulders and hugging her.

"Uh-huh," Willow cheerfully agreed. "That laugh's worth being a goof for." Tara shook her head in amusement, then slung her float across her shoulder, freeing both hands, and pulled Willow into a passionate kiss. Various beach- goers stared in amazement, and there were a couple of cheers from the teenagers. Willow cared not at all, all her attention being focused on Tara's open lips pressing firmly against hers, and her tongue darting out to taste her mouth.

"I love you," Tara murmured, when she finally leaned back just a fraction from Willow, still brushing their lips together as she spoke.

"Um, yeah," Willow replied, breathless, "something gave me that impression…love you too."

"Let's go," Tara grinned. "The good people of Long Beach will have to find something else to entertain them for a while." Willow nodded, and they jogged off again, splashing into the water until it was deep enough, then launching themselves forward in identical flat dives.

Willow surfaced first, her head popping up in the wake of a wave, and she grinned when she was Tara's float being tugged along just ahead of her. Another wave passed, and Tara surfaced as the swell moved off towards the beach.

"Strong legs," Tara replied, "and I'm good at holding my breath." Willow laughed.

"Admit it," she said, "you said that on purpose just to get my mind in a naughty place."

"Who me?" Tara asked, feigning surprise. "I'm innocent until proven naughty." They ducked under the water as a wave passed, and resurfaced a few meters further out.

"Catch me if you can," Tara said with a wink, and then she flipped over and vanished, with a splash and a tempting glimpse of her swimsuit-clad bottom.

"Alright then," Willow said to herself, grinning, "if that's how you want it…there's no way I'm gonna let you be the one that got away." She chuckled to herself, then ducked under the surface and vanished from sight.

Underwater, a quick twist of her float's cable ring caused several concealed panels to open, one releasing a flurry of bubbles, decreasing the float's buoyancy, two opening the inlet and jet for a miniaturized hydro-traction system that pulled Willow forward and down, and one releasing a breather which Willow grabbed as it floated gently by. To her chagrin, when she and Tara had checked their equipment beforehand the breather proved to be disguised as a ball gag – 'Typical Anya,' Tara had commented – but on the plus side, it contained an efficient oxygen extraction system, an artificial gill in essence, that drew in water through its outer surface, released breathable air through the inner, and discharged the remaining water from tiny vents in the straps.

Willow put it on, trying not to blush too much, and found it quite a bit more comfortable than she's expected – the ball compressed easily in her mouth, alleviating her worries of ending up with a severely sore jaw by the end of their underwater trip. She took a moment to accustom herself to breathing in through her mouth, out through her nose, and to opening her eyes underwater, protected as they were by ultra-fine scleral contacts, then looked around to locate Tara, spotting her easily up ahead, swimming along with her jet-float held in front of her.

She set off in pursuit, turning her jet-float up to its full speed and kicking lazily to give herself a little extra boost. Tara kept to a straight line, so Willow spent a moment to call up the submarine probe's telemetry on her watch, and set an alarm to make sure they didn't accidentally swim into the perimeter range of the liner's working sonar scanners. She transmitted the information to Tara's watch, and a confirmation signal came back a moment later, with an attached message: "Bet you can't catch me before the perimeter."

Willow grinned, so far as her breather would allow, and tapped out a reply on her watch's miniature keypad, thankful for all the times she and Buffy had worked up hundred-dollar SMS bills in high school for the fluency it gave her at 'typing' with only a numeric pad to work with.

"What if I do?" she sent back. She looked ahead to see Tara glance down at her wrist, then back over her shoulder, and even at that distance she was sure she saw the twinkle in her eyes.

"To the victor go the spoils," came the reply a moment later. Willow watched Tara accelerate away, skimming over the sandy ocean floor.

Tara glanced over her shoulder to see Willow skimming along behind her, on her right side. 'Of course she can't catch me,' Tara mused, 'she's got the same jet-float I do…maybe she's a touch lighter, but I bet I can kick harder to make up for it…all I really have to do is keep going straight ahead.' She grinned to herself. 'Doesn't sound like much fun, does it?'

She took another glance to judge her distance, then twisted her arms to flip her jet over, and kicked out sideways, sending herself end-over-end, rushing back right above a very surprised Willow. Tara felt Willow's fingertips just barely brush her back through her swimsuit, but then she was away in open water.

"We'll see," came the reply. Tara glanced back to try to find Willow, and only just saw her in time, rising up from underneath. She scissored her legs out to either side, pushing herself forward just enough for Willow to sail between them, before backflipping and jetting back down towards the seabed.

Willow was in hot pursuit, coming straight at Tara from her left, kicking as hard as she could to increase her speed. Tara winked and managed a barrel- roll over Willow as she passed, but then had to turn sharply away as Willow, anticipating her move, swung her legs down to dig her heels into the sand and kicked off straight up.

'Nice,' Tara grinned to herself, 'always thinking a move ahead…pity I'm two.'

Her grin vanished when she looked around and couldn't see Willow anywhere. She took a quick glance at her watch, but its telemetry from Willow's was still coming in, and it would only have taken a tap to signal a problem. 'Which means she's deliberately up to something,' Tara frowned, looking to one side then the other, up above, down below, down further to look back behind herself…Willow was nowhere to be seen.

'Okay Maclay, think. She's a trained pilot, she knows all the tricks, this is basically a dogfight…what do you do in a dogfight, you…get in your enemy's blind spot. I'm not a plane, I don't have a blind spot…except-'

Tara quickly rolled over, and her eyes widened involuntarily to find Willow jetting along right on top of her, holding her jet-float behind her back one- handed rather than in front of her, to keep it out of Tara's peripheral vision when she was facing forward. With her other hand she pulled out her breather and gave Tara a playful kiss on the tip of her nose.

'You win,' Tara signed one-handed, using the abbreviated sign language taught for stealth missions.

'Darn tootin,' Willow replied, which took some time as she had to spell each word out letter by letter. Finishing, she remembered to put her breather back in place, and she and Tara fell into formation side by side.

"Comes from babbling," Willow replied. "Most inconsiderate of the Ministry not to have a stealth sign for 'darn tootin'."

"So you caught me," Tara typed out, winking at Willow as she did so, "what are you going to do with me?" Willow grinned, and quickly typed a reply.

"The usual – reel you in, get rid of the non-tasty outer layer-" Willow plucked at Tara's swimsuit just as Tara finished reading the message, then went back to typing.

'Well?' she signed one-handed. Willow frowned for a moment in confusion, then understanding and a smile dawned. She throttled back her jet-float, Tara keeping pace at her side until they were stationary, and Willow could let her float drift to the sand beneath her feet, its weight on the tether around her waist just enough to keep her from floating away. Then she extended her hands and made 'reeling in fishing line' motions, which Tara responded to by holding her jet behind her and pulsing it briefly, making it look as if she was being reeled in.

Tara finally bumped up against Willow, still floating horizontally, while Willow was more or less standing upright. Willow leaned over her and, with both their mouths occupied by breathing apparatus, made do with touching the tip of her nose to the tip of Tara's, and rubbing them gently together.

Tara set her jet-float in neutral then let it drop, curling her arms around Willow's waist and swinging herself slowly upright. She leaned forward, touching her cheek to Willow's, just enjoying the gentle contact of skin on skin, amid the feeling of weightlessness that made it seem as if there was nothing else in the world. She opened her eyes and leaned back to look at Willow, her lovely face surrounded by a halo of floating crimson hair.

Willow stared back at her, equally entranced, and slowly raised a hand to cup Tara's cheek. Everything was slow motion, every motion deliberate and delicate. Tara closed her eyes as Willow's hand touched her cheek, then slowly craned her head back as Willow's fingertips moved down, tracing her jawline, then caressing her throat as she swallowed lightly, and further down to brush against her collarbone.

She felt Willow's hand move across then, to her shoulder, and her fingers gently slid beneath the shoulder strap of her swimsuit. Willow hesitated, and Tara opened her eyes and returned her gaze to her lover. She glanced down at Willow's fingers, stilled in the act of slipping the strap from her shoulder, then regarded her with hooded eyes. Willow moved herself a little closer, holding Tara's shoulder to steady herself.

Tara spared a glance at her watch – just on twenty minutes in. Willow raised a questioning eyebrow as Tara looked back up at her. Tara glanced again at Willow's hand on her shoulder, then nodded slowly, giving Willow her best smoldering stare. Willow took a deep breath that came out a moment later as a flurry of bubbles, and slipped the strap off Tara's shoulder. Tara shrugged it down her arm a little way, glanced at Willow again, then looked at her other shoulder. Willow quickly moved that strap too, and Tara reached up for the straps and gently pulled them further down her arms.

Willow's eyes followed the edge of the swimsuit as it curled over and rolled down Tara's chest, stretching slightly as she breathed in. Inch after inch of smooth skin was revealed, then the crest of her areolae, and the fabric caught there, stuck on Tara's nipples, before she gave a quick tug and freed her breasts entirely.

Willow reached out with both hands, laying them gently on Tara's shoulders before sliding them down, on either side of her breasts, then beneath where she cupped them. Tara arched her back, giving herself into Willow's caress; Willow in turn held her more firmly, stroking her thumbs across the tops of Tara's magnificent breasts, while her fingers squeezed gently.

Willow saw Tara's breathing quicken, but paused on the verge of touching her nipples. An idea struck her, and she couldn't control the grin that quirked up the corners of her mouth. Tara raised an eyebrow, then both as Willow leant back, allowing herself to float a little, and pulled her own swimsuit straps down over her shoulders. Her nipples were already hard, but her smaller breasts gave less resistance as she pulled the suit down to her waist, baring herself. She stepped back into Tara's embrace, and slowly pressed herself against Tara, feeling the softness of her breasts and Tara's yield to each other. Breathing deeply she held Tara by the waist and guided herself, so that her firm nipples brushed against Tara's, up and down, again and again.

She looked up to see the expression she loved most on Tara's face, the mixture of innocent joy and lustful delight that made her seem to glow. She quickened the pace of her gyrations in Tara's arms, pressing her breasts firmly into Tara's, rubbing their nipples together forcefully, aided as Tara moved her body in response, catching her rhythm and amplifying it. Tara's hands snuck under the loose swimsuit around her waist, reaching down to grip Willow's ass, and Willow quickly obliged her by wriggling her hips to let the suit slide free and drift gently to the sand. Willow lifted her legs and wrapped them around Tara's waist, delighting in the sensation of being so completely held. With bubbles billowing around their faces they caressed each other, touching the tips of their noses, rubbing their cheeks together, being together in every way they could.

Gathering her willpower to think and move, Willow unclasped her legs, and gave Tara a reassuring look as she leaned back just a fraction, bending down while she tugged Tara's swimsuit around her ankles, from where it drifted free. She ducked down, her hair streaming after her, and Tara leant into it, closing her eyes as she felt it caress her face. At the same time Willow brushed her cheeks against Tara's breasts, playfully rubbing her nose against her nipples. Moving lower, reveling in the ease of moving with her buoyancy counteracting gravity, she held on to Tara's hips and carefully pulled herself closer, arching her back. She looked up as Tara looked down, and thus she saw the dawning realization and then pleasure as her nipple touched Tara's sex, moist with more than simply water, and then brushed against her stiffening clit.

Tara bucked her hips, the water causing her motions to be languid rather than sharp, and Willow met her gentle thrusts with her own, pressing her nipple to her lover's clit, feeling her breast grow warm from Tara's skin, and the heated nectar seeping into the water. She held Tara's hips firmly, comfortingly, as she made love to her, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against Tara's stomach as she felt the stirrings of orgasm in the tremors running through her. Cupping her breast and pressing it as far forward as she could she ran her nipple up and down, from Tara's entrance to her clit and back again, sighing into her breather as she felt the muscles in Tara's stomach tremble against her face.

Tara threw back her head and tossed from side to side, feeling her hair float about her and caress her face. Willow admittedly had more skill and control with her fingers, or tongue, but the softness of her breast against Tara's folds, the feeling of her firm nipple poking gently into her, the sheer eroticism of it was ample compensation. She felt Willow press against her leg, felt her center hot against her shin, and her pleasure was complete.

For Willow, Tara's shuddering, the flow of warmth over her breast, was all she needed to come herself. She wrapped herself tightly around Tara, slowing her motions as they both shook and moaned soundlessly, finally stilling as she felt Tara relax, and a hand gently brushing through her hair.

Letting go, with considerable reluctance, Willow abandoned her place nestled against Tara's stomach and floated up to look her in the eye. The warmth she saw there surpassed anything physical; Tara raised a hand to sign, then hesitated, and instead pointed to herself, then placed her hand over her heart, then over Willow's. Willow nodded, and placed her hand over Tara's. Nothing more needed to be said.

The top of Willow's head emerged silently from the pool, and she looked around warily. The room was quite large, enough to contain an Olympic-size swimming pool that served as the home of a short-range submarine pleasure cruiser, its hull composed of almost as much transparent surface as metal. The sub, its ship-side telemetry stations, and the rest of the room looked quite vacant.

Willow quickly pulled herself out of the water, and took the jet-floats, and the remote probe's storage box, that Tara handed to her. She held out a hand to Tara, and with the aid of a strong kick from Tara lifted her out of the water.

"I thought so," she said, peering at Tara's swimsuit once she had taken out her breather.

"I thought it was a bit tight across the bust," Tara chuckled. "Well we can leave that out of the mission report – no need to explain how we managed to switch suits in mid-swim."

"Yeah," Willow grinned to herself, staring off happily into space for a moment before busying herself unpacking their gear.

"Incidentally," Tara surprised her, whispering right into her ear, "once we're back on dry land, I'm going to show you just how good that felt."

"Hmm," Willow smiled, "if I weren't a dedicated professional I'd be tempted to blow off the mission right away."

Willow reached up to stroke Tara's cheek, and leaned in for a kiss, opening her lips and feeling the answering caress of Tara's tongue.

"We'll have to have Anya invent some kind of breather you can kiss through," Tara said seriously. "I'm sure she'll see the need."

Working quickly they unpacked their gear. From the storage compartments of their jet-floats, nestled between the twin hydro-traction drives, each produced a vacuum-sealed tube marked 'costume' and a serial number. From the remote's storage box came two similar tubes, marked 'wetsuit'.

"I don't know," Tara shrugged, "but ten to one says you can't pack it back in after you've opened it."

"No bet," Willow grinned, "I can't even repack my suitcase after I've opened it. So, now are you gonna tell me who your sex symbol du jour is?"

"No," Tara said patiently, biting her lip to stifle a grin, "it's a surprise, you'll see once I'm dressed."

"Fine," Willow pouted, keeping watch on Tara out of the corner of her eye to see if her patented cute pout was working.

"But as a consolation," Tara eventually said, "you can undress me, if you want…"

"Woohoo!" Willow grinned, clapping quietly. "'If I want'," she added in a disbelieving tone, as she and Tara stood up.

"Don't take too long," Tara cautioned affectionately, "we're on a mission, there is…theoretically," she sighed as Willow kissed her neck, "a limit to how much time we can spend making love…"

"Don't worry," Willow said, "I'm not completely unable to resist you." She moved behind Tara and pulled the shoulder straps of her swimsuit off, again.

"Hmm," Tara said mildly, "that's actually kind of disappointing!" she finished in a squeal, as Willow uncovered her bottom and playfully took a bite at it, gently pressing her teeth into the soft flesh before moving on.

"I prefer an out-of-court settlement," Tara joked, turning around and slipping down Willow's shoulder straps.

"Equal division of property," Tara smiled. "This," she crouched as she pulled down the swimsuit, and kissed Willow's stomach, "goes to me, and in return," she grinned seductively and stood straight, striking a sexy pose, hands on hips, "you get everything you see before you."

"Careful," she said, "I might become disgruntled and go to the court of appeals."

"Uh-huh," Tara grinned, giving Willow a quick kiss on the nose. "Now turn around – and no peeking."

Tara recognized her sincerity, and turned without a second thought, sure she'd get to surprise her Willow. She sat on the deck and opened the tube containing her costume – the moment she pressed the release switch the tube split open down its middle seam, and material burst out of it, almost seeming to inflate. Tara had only a vague idea of the technology involved – something about the material remaining compressed within the tube's electrical field, and expanding once it was released, but when she had sought an explanation Anya had been distracted by something fluorescent purple and vaguely phallic, and Tara had thought better than to ask.

Whatever it was, it worked beautifully – her outfit barely even had a fold line on it, and even the boots had somehow been fitted in. Tara pulled on the long-sleeved top first, adjusting the clinging fabric to make sure the emblem on her chest was positioned just right. Then the skirt and belt, the boots, which were a tight fit around her shins. Then the cape, and finally she took out a miniature aerosol bottle and sprayed her hair thoroughly, the spray reacting with the compound she had carefully applied that morning to turn her dark honey-gold hair a brilliant sunflower-yellow.

"Just a minute," Willow answered. "Man these feel weird…there we go. Okay, let's see y- wow!"

Tara turned, and her jaw dropped at the sight of Willow in a tight green top, very short shorts, and with her now-brunette hair in a brain that swished around her waist.

"Supergirl!" Willow exclaimed, as much as was possible while keeping her voice down. "Oh god I loved Supergirl when I was a kid." Tara grinned and did a little twirl, her cape billowing around her.

"Well as soon as this mission is over," she promised, "you can love Supergirl again…you look hot, sweetie."

"Really?" Willow blushed, playing with her ponytail, "well, you know, I love my Playstation, so me and Lara, we go way back…"

"I'm glad to make her acquaintance then," Tara chuckled. She peered at Willow, and frowned in thought, staring at her breasts. "It's not just the outfit, is it?" she asked. "You're…bigger…"

"Anya's smokescreen bra," Willow explained, "I thought, well, its in character, I'm not exactly Croft-y around the bust normally…" She trailed off with a shrug.

"Maybe not," Tara said, "but it's true what they say, size isn't everything." Willow beamed a smile at her.

"Who am I to refuse a date with the Woman of Steel?" Willow grinned, looping her arm through Tara's.

The grand ballroom was decorated sumptuously, full of silk streamers, sparkling chandeliers, pyramids of champagne glasses, disco balls, extravagant floral decorations, tables laden with the finest in connoisseur finger food…if it hadn't all been so tremendously expensive, it would have seemed thoroughly overdone. The guests were dressed to match, a dazzling array of costumes, Romeos and Juliets, Prince Charmings and Sleeping Beauties, Madonnas (religious and pop star), Kings and Queens, silver screen idols and romance novel characters, rock stars and beauty queens. At one of the heavily-laden dining tables a Zorro was charming a young Ripley, on the dance floor a crowd had gathered to admire the style of Lady Galadriel and the Fonz, and by the main entrance a gaggle of Britney Spearsses were arguing heatedly over who had stolen whose costume idea.

"Quite the gathering," Tara noted, keeping Willow's hand in hers as they navigated the crowded ballroom.

"Yeah, but low on originality," Willow complained. "That's the eighth Seven of Nine I've seen already. Heh," she chuckled to herself, "eighth Seven of Nine…"

"Me neither," Willow agreed, "but I do see a few faces that stick out from the crowd…over there, two o'clock."

Tara looked to see a portly man, unfortunately dressed in a Han Solo costume that didn't flatter his figure much, hovering by the canapés and ignoring his fellow attendees.

"Howard Walker," Willow said, "chairman of the Citizens for Sanitised Literature society. Not the kind of guy I'd expect to attend a party like this."

"No," Tara said thoughtfully, "or the chief financial officer of the Family First Network, over there." She grimaced. "They leave the part about 'so long as your family has a heterosexual mother and father who raise their children to believe that single parents shouldn't have rights' in the fine print."

"Charming," Willow frowned. "Five o'clock, CEO of Badger News, 'fair and balanced' so long as you're a member of the ultra-right wing…they must be here to meet Osbourne, there's no other explanation. People like that just would not attend a party with a reputation like this one just for fun."

"But where is he?" Willow wondered. "And how come they're just standing around?"

"Maybe he's not here yet," Tara theorized, "or maybe they're waiting for other guests…let's join the party and keep an eye out for Osbourne."

"Right," Willow nodded. "What kind of partying…" She trailed off as the music switched to an imperious, rhythmic beat. Tara gave a slow grin, then looked at Willow, her eyes smoldering.

"God yes," Willow replied hoarsely, snatching a thornless rose from a floral display. They walked quickly to the dance floor, where a flurry of couples were gathering for the start of the dance.

"Ready?" Tara asked. Willow held the rose between Tara's teeth, and she clamped down on its stem.

Tara held out her right hand for Willow, who stepped closer. As Willow's hand slipped into hers she caressed it lightly with her fingertips, then gripped it tightly and pressed it firmly to her side. Her other hand caught Willow's and held it out to her side. She leaned forward and tilted her head to one side, stroking the petals of the rose clenched in her teeth across Willow's lips, while her free hand stroked her side and worked its way to her back. Then, as the music reached its peak, she stood to her full height, staring imperiously at Willow, and pulled her tightly against herself.

The dance began, and Tara marched in time to the beat, her motions elegant yet powerful. Willow moved with her, allowing herself to be led, breathless and aroused at Tara's performance. She led well, the way she was moving her legs, her hips, her shoulders, subtle rhythms in her body had taken on an air of dominance, almost masculinity in an odd way. 'Thank God the Ministry includes tango in basic spy school,' Willow mused, realizing that without her training she would have been lost – she moved automatically as her mind filled with visions of Take Charge Tara.

Tara reached the end of her walk and, as the music flourished, tossed Willow back, keeping hold of her arm so that she stretched out away from her, her head dipping down behind her, before Tara pulled her back. Again Willow's training kept her from collapsing in a daze when she found herself once more pressed against Tara, hands around her neck. Tara reached down and effortlessly pulled Willow's thigh up, supporting Willow's knee on her hip, and marched backwards, all but carrying Willow as her other foot trailed behind her.

"God you're hot," Willow breathed, feeling Tara's thigh press firmly against her center with every other step. Tara grinned and let the rose drop into her hand, letting go of Willow's leg at the same time to return her to her feet for another walk.

"A dancer is only as good as her partner," she murmured with a sexy grin. Willow's hand met hers, and both their fingers curled around the rose between them.

Seeing Willow recovering somewhat from her initial giddy daze, Tara gave her a subtle cue for a move, and at the end of the walk stood ramrod-straight, still as a statue but for her head, which turned to follow as Willow circled her, stalking sexily, trailing the soft rose petals around her shoulders.

She was not entirely surprised when, finishing her circle, Willow took her hands and assumed the leading pose herself. She ducked her head submissively, and grinned from ear to ear as Willow gave her a quick kiss on her cheek as they walked again, not an inch of space between their bodies.

"Still looking unhappy," Willow replied, "I don't think they like tango…no- one's moving though. They're waiting for something. Someone."

"Keep an eye out," Tara murmured. Willow braced her foot against Tara so she could let her sway back, so far her hair trailed on the dance floor behind her. Tara took the opportunity to reach out with her free hand and snag one of the wide decorative ribbons wound around the legs of the refreshment tables, yanking it loose as Willow pulled her upright.

"Wait and see," Tara smirked, taking the lead once more as they moved in step back into the middle of the dance floor. She slipped the end of the ribbon into Willow's hand, then at the end of their walk pushed her away. Catching on, Willow backed up as far as the ribbon would stretch between them, and tossed her head defiantly as Tara drew her inexorably back in, pulling on the ribbon hand over hand until with one last tug she pulled Willow back into her arms.

"Uh-huh," Willow nodded, "you got me just where I want me." Tara gave a playful giggle and pressed the ribbon into Willow's hands.

"I thought you'd never ask," Willow replied, standing her ground at the end of their walk, while Tara continued away from her. At the ribbon's end Willow gave it a quick tug to make it taut, then raised her leg and looped her ankle through the ribbon stretched between herself and Tara. She pulled her leg back sharply, bracing herself as Tara rushed into her arms, and swung her around, leaning over her and kissing her neck as she tilted her head back, eyes closed and a surprised smile on her face.

"You took the advanced course at the Ministry," Tara said once Willow had pulled her upright again.

"If I'd known this is where it'd take me," Willow grinned, "I wouldn't have been studying just because…mmm," she purred, as Tara tightened her hold. The tempo of the music relaxed a little, and the various couples dancing drew closer and moved slower.

"And I love seeing you be sexy," Tara admitted with a shy smile. "But yeah, up-skirtage was a consideration…"

"Why, what are you wearing under your skirt?" Willow pursued the topic. Tara chuckled, and gave her ear a playful kiss.

"I thought you might say that," Willow laughed to herself. She caught sight of someone over Tara's shoulder and straightened slightly, alerting Tara.

"Heads up," she whispered, "I think we've got a new mystery guest." She leisurely waltzed Tara around so she could see in the right direction without having to turn her head. "By the main staircase, just coming down. Big guy, real tall, badly-fitting tux, face looks a bit lop-sided, and not in the cute way your smile is-"

"Got him," Tara said, "I recognize him. From his file at the Ministry, at least."

"Former US Navy Seal, British SAS, French secret service, Omega Branch special agent…bits of everything," Tara filled in the details. "Put it all together and you have one dangerous individual. He went freelance two years ago, since then he's worked for the highest bidder, no questions asked."

"They've tried," Tara said warily. "He's talking to one of the security guards…he must be working for Osbourne. He's not rich enough to be here on his own, even with the pay checks he pulls in, but he's perfect to keep a secret meeting secret. And they've got the ship's crew on side, that'll make things trickier. Ah-hah…our conservative guests are on the move."

"Promise me you won't take any risks?" Willow caught Tara's shoulder as she began to turn, and held her gaze. "If this guy's as dangerous as his file says…I don't want to lose you, baby. I don't know- I just couldn't." Tara swallowed, and leaned over to place a gentle kiss on Willow's lips.

Willow's eyes teared up, then she blinked them away and nodded resolutely. Tara gave her a quick hug, and they turned and went their separate ways, becoming lost among the crowd of partiers.

The small group of businessmen, conservative activists and media owners followed the towering figure of Adam Walsh through the liner's hotel-like corridors. Tara checked to ensure she wasn't seen, then leaned around a corner, watching as the group passed through a security checkpoint.

"Looks like there's a secure area forward of the thirtieth bulkhead," she whispered. "Regular guards, these aren't Walsh's people. No problem."

"Okay. I'm going through." She ducked back, tossed her head to settle her hair on her shoulders, and strode out in full Supergirl-mode, hips swaying and cape fluttering behind her.

The two security guards at the end of the T-junction corridor exchanged covert grins as she approached, then one stepped out to block Tara's path.

"Oh, really?" Tara asked in the broadest Valley Girl accent she could manage. "Did you, like, see a guy go past here, about your height, dark hair, in an Elvis costume? No? Dammit, my date's skipped out on me! How about that!" She looked challengingly at the guard, as if expecting him to comment – a trick she had learned from Anya.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, honey," he said with a grin, "he sounds like a damn fool, if you ask me. But he didn't come this way."

"Aw…I guess I should go back and look for him," Tara pouted. She gave the guard a grin. "Or, like, not…do you guys get to go off duty?" The guards exchanged glances and chuckled.

"Why, are you asking?" one of them said, advancing. Tara gave him a guileless look, batted her eyelashes, then chopped him swiftly in the throat as he came within range. His partner stared at her in shock, then reached for his belt, fumbling with the catch holding his nightstick to his belt.

"No, I'm telling," Tara said, swiftly slipping the first guard's nightstick off his belt and whacking his partner over the head with it. The first guard, still gasping, aimed a punch at the back of her head, but she swayed out of the way and caught his wrist without looking, pulling him over her shoulder and smacking his head into the wall.

"I've got your signal," Willow replied, checking her watch, where Tara's position showed up as a tiny blinking beacon on a scrolling digital map of the ship's interior.

"I can't help it if I'm a knock-out," Tara laughed. Willow chuckled, then glanced around to ensure she wasn't being watched, and headed on towards the front of the ship.

"Guard," she whispered, hearing footsteps from up ahead. She glanced quickly around the corner, then ducked back. "Armed guard. I don't like guns."

A guard – not one of the ship's security staff, but a dangerous-looking man in full commando gear and a full-face helmet – quickly appeared around the corner, his hand on his holster.

"I think I'm lost," Willow complained, in an aristocratic Lady Croft voice, "is this the way to the- oh, nice! Is that real?" She pointed at the soldier's sidearm. "I tried to get some replicas, for my costume you see, but they were all sold out, would you believe it? I mean, whoever heard of Lara Croft without her favorite pair of weapons?" She leaned back, under the pretence of gesturing to her empty holsters, which coincidentally had the effect of pushing her enhanced chest out quite prominently.

"Uh, yeah," the soldier nodded, relaxing the hand on his gun as his eyes widened, "but, uh, you've still got-" Willow quickly turned her backward lean into a backward somersault, kicking the soldier squarely in the chest. He collapsed back in a heap, and before he knew what was going on she was on top of him, his visor was flipped open and his own pistol was aimed between his eyes.

"'Still got this pair of weapons,' I know," she said, "Miss Croft hears that joke a lot." She picked the soldier's radio off his jacket, pocketed the tazer on his belt, then held her watch near his face. "Be a dear and say 'all secure,' would you?"

"No, like you mean it," Willow instructed, grinning dangerously, "come on, 'all secure,' right now before I get bored of you."

"Good boy," Willow said, immobilizing him with a pressure-point grip to his shoulder, then quickly clubbing him with the gun's handle. "I take it back, there is one thing I like about guns," she added, flipping the safety on and dropping the pistol into one of her holsters.

"You don't have to pull the trigger to get a result." She quietly opened a door and, finding a vacant suite, pulled the unconscious soldier inside.

Harmony paced back and forth restlessly, glancing every few seconds at the room's main door. A voice from the audio console on the table startled her.

"Not yet boss," she replied, "but whatsisname only went to get them a few minutes ago…maybe they were busy? I mean, they were waiting in the ballroom, and they've got a pretty rocking party going on there. This one time, my roommate had to go get me from a party, right before a final, and it took, like, five hours-"

"Well duh," Harmony complained, "that's what you told me to do in the first place."

"He likes the sound of his own terseness," Cordelia said from behind her, making her squeal and jump backwards.

"Cordy!" she protested. "You scared the hell out of me! Do you have to do that…that sneaky sneaking-up thing all the time?"

"I don't have to, no," Cordelia admitted. "Has Walsh reported any sightings of our two lovebirds?"

"Not a peep," Harmony said happily, "all the guys have been reporting in like clockwork. They're probably not even on board."

"They're here," Cordelia warned. She looked Harmony up and down, and frowned. "Harmony…what in god's name are you wearing?" Harmony looked down at her attire – a full body stocking in a spider-web pattern, more or less opaque, with a teardrop cut-out highlighting her cleavage, and black PVC boots done up to her knees.

"It's my villain costume," she said proudly. "Like it? I had it custom-made, this is silk you know. Very expensive. And these boots don't come cheap either!"

"Oh, like you're looking so much classier," Harmony frowned, gesturing dismissively at Cordelia's current outfit, a black corset with green edging, over a black latex cat-suit.

"At least I've got a reason to be dressed like this," Harmony pointed out, "my good suit still has lubricant all over it."

"Even if I didn't already know the story, I so wouldn't be surprised," Cordelia sighed. "Just…try to look professional, 'kay? They're almost here."

"I'm professional!" Harmony pouted as the conference room door opened, revealing Adam Walsh and the group he was escorting.

"Just let me do the talking," Cordelia hissed. "Gentlemen! Glad you could join us…have a seat."

"They're in a conference room," Tara reported from the nearest intersection, out of sight of the room's guards. "Five meters forward, on the port side."

"Alpha Whiskey Five, report," Willow's borrowed radio crackled. She held her watch to it and played back the recording of the soldier's 'all secure,' which seemed to satisfy whoever was on the other end.

Checking to ensure she was alone, Willow sprinted towards a doorway and carefully tried the handle. Finding it locked she opened her costume's belt buckle and produced nipple ring that bent itself straight at a twist. She inserted it into the lock, and a moment later the door clicked open.

"Well what do you know," she whispered, going inside and shutting the door behind her.

"Daniel's a classicist," Willow muttered, examining the complicated device set up in the otherwise empty room. Various pistons and levers connected to panels set into the ceiling, which presumably reached through to the floor above. A series of electrodes on articulated rods were connected to a central generator, which hummed with power. Willow kept to the edge of the room until she had snuck beneath the single video camera pointing at the sprawling device and stealthily attached a decorative tassel to it.

"The room's secure," she reported. "Looks like an old-style set-up, connected to the conference table above…" Her eyes followed the lines of the various gears and hydraulic pistons, judging how it would all work. "I'd say the first guy to decide he doesn't want in to whatever Daniel has planned will be dropped down here, and 'lights out'."

"Wow, that is a classic," Tara mused. "I don't think I've heard of one of those set-ups being used since the sixties. Electrocution, or is it a retro flamethrower kind of thing?"

"Electrocution by the looks of it," Willow said, "this'll actually make things easier, they've already drilled all the holes in the ceiling I'll need…just got to get a snooper up there…" She carefully disconnected the device's live wires, then crawled into the middle of it and produced a tiny camera and microphone from her backpack.

"I've got video and audio," Willow reported. "They're all there…I can't see Walker's face through this thing, but I recognize the waistline…there's Harmony on the other side of the table, I recognize her butt…"

"Pretty much everyone in my freshman year would recognize Harmony's butt," Willow explained. "From numerous photocopies on the notice boards, even if they weren't present at the infamous football stadium 'Hail Mary' incident…she's got a friend too, can't get an angle on her face…"

"Someone's coming," Tara whispered, ducking into a vacant suite and leaving the door open just a fraction. "It's Osbourne."

"Gentlemen," Daniel said as he entered the conference room, "sorry to keep you waiting. Walsh, thanks." The mercenary nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Harmony opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by a swift elbow in the ribs from Cordelia, who nodded evenly at Daniel.

"I'm a man of few words," he said, taking his seat at the head of the table, "so I'll be brief. You've all contributed to an…initiative of mine. You've been party to certain projects, lent your support to certain developments…"

"And it's about time we got an explanation!" one of the assembled men protested. "My firm has made a very significant investment, and I was told- "

"Mr. McDonald," Daniel said calmly, "you were told what you needed to be told, in order to motivate you."

"Well what I was told," McDonald said, "is that you had a way to safeguard internet users completely from inappropriate material. We've delayed half a dozen release dates, our competitors are taking notice, and you haven't delivered. Where's the super-screening program?" he demanded, rising from his seat.

"Mr. McDonald, have a seat," Daniel said quietly. McDonald glared at him, but subsided.

"What you were each told was true," Daniel went on, "more or less. You wouldn't be here unless you understood that there is a…plague. An epidemic of immorality, lewdness, corruption. A communicable disease, transmitted through books, television, films, websites. It turns good, wholesome people, the driving force of your industries, your consumers, into worthless trash. You all recognize the danger, you all know the solution. Men and women are weak…they give in to temptation, they let themselves be led stray. Strong leadership is needed, leadership that won't just tell them what they must do, but make them do it. In fact, make it impossible for them to do otherwise."

"Of course," Mr. Walker agreed, "people have to be protected, for their own good. But there are so many, aha, 'collaborators' one might say…so many ways for indecency to be transmitted from the sorry specimens who produce it to the poor souls who fall victim to it. And if one tries to curtail them, well, they cry 'free speech', 'liberty'…as if people can be trusted to make their own choices," he scoffed.

"You're quite right," Daniel nodded, "they can't." He leaned forward to press an inset button on the table edge in front of him, and flat-screens opened up in front of his guests. Each showed a complex logic diagram, multi-layered with loops and processes being highlighted in turn as the graphic cycled through a sequence.

"I call it Panacea," Daniel said, with understated pride. "The program is self-replicating, self-propagating, self-defending. Once it reaches critical mass, it can't be shut down."

"I'm not much for long explanations. Harmony?" Daniel asked. Cordelia sighed and covered her face with her hand.

"Oh, righty," Harmony said, jumping to her feet, "okay, so what we have here is basically a self-adjusting computer, you know, program thing…so it'll change. Each one of it will change, I mean – once it's spreading all over the place, each version of it will be slightly different, so if you get someone trying to use an anti-program program-"

"Yup, thanks, a countermeasure," Harmony went on, "it'll work on some, but not on others, so the survivors will take over and fill in the gaps left by the ones that go kablooey when people fight back. Sort of like, you guys know football? Well I once had this team over at my place, and they were explaining about substitutes, while the other guys got me some drinks-"

"Less…? Oh, right…okay, well it's substitutes, basically. One version of the program gets broken, another takes its place, and it, like, learns from previous generations of itself, like it's evolving, like on the Discovery Channel when they're not showing monkeys fu-"

"Okay, okay! Jeez," she crossed her arms in a huff, and went on: "critical mass is when the program reaches a certain level of network penetration…" She stopped and chuckled to herself. "That sounds dirty…anyway, once we reach critical mass, we can't be shut down. Like, ever. Short of the whole worldwide digital network being destroyed and replaced by a new one – as in, new TVs, new computers, new servers, new phone exchanges, anything with a programmable chip in it."

"That's impossible," McDonald said, "no-one would ever risk that kind of shut-down…it would mean-"

"World-wide chaos," Daniel nodded, "exactly. It will be in the best interests of the world to accept our gift, rather than try to fight it."

"There are two layers to Panacea," Daniel's voice was relayed through Willow's snooper. "The first is the overt layer, the alteration of unhealthy material into healthy. But that addresses the symptom – we have to treat the cause as well. The covert layer is a subliminal pulse pattern, interlaced with video and audio signals. Through their televisions, computers, radios, stereos, phones, the people of the world will be reprogrammed. Smut will disappear from the face of the Earth – not because it will not be transmitted, but because it will not be created."

"I don't know," Willow whispered, "god, I hope not…but if it's true, some kind of subliminal conditioning…"

"We have to get this to the Ministry, right away," Tara decided. "If this reprogramming is so subtle they haven't even noticed it on the captured chip, this could be our only hope of stopping it!"

"No way," McDonald was protesting, "look I agree with your ideals, but there is no way I'll let myself be implicated in this. If it goes wrong, if the authorities find out…you're not just talking about censorship, you're talking about messing with the brains of the whole planet!"

"Yeah, I've heard that before," McDonald sneered. "I'm out. Make the attempt with my blessing, I hope you succeed, but I won't be a part of it. That's my final word." Daniel fixed him with a long stare, then shrugged.

"Well, if you're certain," he said. "I'm sure we all thank you for your contributions. If you don't wish to continue, that's your choice." He leaned forward and pressed another button; McDonald's chair suddenly dropped through a hatch in the floor, which snapped shut once he had vanished. A second later there was a blood-curdling scream, followed by silence.

"I'm okay," she replied, "we might have to take a passenger with us when we leave though." She gave an exasperated sigh and glared at McDonald, who was quietly hyperventilating with her hand clamped firmly over his mouth.

"Yeah…sorry about that," she whispered to McDonald, who was calming down slightly, "but I really didn't have time to explain how to fake your own electrocution. Now, lemme explain the situation to you. You have just been murdered. Are you still with me?"

"Look, Osbourne just tried to cook you like a McNugget," Willow explained. "He's got Walsh and his soldiers, plus the ship's security people, working for him. I'm pretty good at escaping from ships packed full of people who want to kill me. Unless you are too, how do you feel about doing exactly what I say, when I say it? Starting with nodding and not making a sound?"

"Ick," she complained, wiping it on his jacket, "could you have kept your mouth closed? Honestly. Come on, on your feet. Sweetheart? Not you," she added to McDonald, who had looked confused.

"I'm thinking Plan B," Willow said, "we need every word Daniel says, but I can't move fast with this guy. I'll stash him down below, then meet you back on this deck and we'll get the snooper and leave together."

"I'll keep you alive," she replied, "believe me, that's the best deal you'll get. I'll take you to a secure area down below, you'll be safe there 'til I'm ready to leave. Now less talking, more moving!"

Shortly thereafter, Tara peered around a corner, spotting an armed and helmeted soldier. She braced herself, then walked out in front of him without a care in the world.

"Hey," he said, "hey, you! Supergirl! This is a restricted area, I'll have to take you in for questioning!"

"Uh," the soldier said uncertainly, glancing at the various weapons on his belt. The next thing he saw, very briefly, was Tara's bright red boot. He slumped to the deck, and Tara looked around, then dragged him as quickly as she could into the suite where Willow had deposited her would-be captor earlier.

Willow cautiously opened the door and peered back into the room occupied by the elaborate electrocution device, and let out a sigh when she saw Tara waiting for her.

"McDonald's down in the submarine room," Willow told her, accepting Tara's kiss with a smile.

"Pretty much. I knocked him out, just for safety's sake. And because his company's damned software kept me from accessing my favorite erotica websites at the school library all through my final year."

"Fair enough," Tara chuckled. "You just wanted some titillation, or was your school library private enough that you could…savor the experience…?"

"Oh, no," Willow said, shaking her head vehemently, "no, back in school I was miss conservative, I'd never have done anything like that. I just, you know…liked to imagine…" She stepped closer to Tara and ran a hand up her side, from her waist to the side of her breast, tickling her through the thin fabric of her top.

"Uh-huh," Tara said, leaning back against the wall, "what're you imagining now?"

"We don't have to hurry," Willow said idly, "they're still talking up there, so we've got a few minutes before we have to go…" She leant against Tara, straddling her thigh and rubbing her center against her through her shorts. "If you're interested…it's been a whole fifty minutes since I saw you, and…well, visions of being tangoed by Supergirl keep running through my head…" She looked up at Tara with an adorable pout.

"Nuh-uh," Willow said, her voice trembling, "no way…she's just misrepresented in the mainstream media…"

"Ah," Tara nodded, breathing heavily. "So, if she were to be exploring some ancient tomb, and happened to find, say, Supergirl…and just suppose…mmm," she purred as Willow licked the side of her neck, "just suppose…they happened to end up like this, pressed together…so close…and Supergirl asked Lara to make love to her…"

"At the risk of sounding a bit fan-ficcy," Willow murmured, "I think Lara would definitely make love to Supergirl, right then and there." She opened her mouth and pressed against Tara's throat, licking voraciously.

"Oh god," Tara moaned quietly, "well then, 'Lara'…" She took hold of Willow and gently pushed her back a little, just enough for her to slip out from between her and the wall. "So long as one of us is keeping an eye on upstairs, so we don't get interrupted…" She leant over and straightened her legs, giving Willow an absolutely perfect view of her ass as she peered into the snooper's eyepiece.

"Then be tempted, sweetie," Tara said over her shoulder. "You wanted to find out what I've got on under my skirt, now's your chance…"

Willow grinned broadly as she approached Tara from behind and leant over her, stroking one hand through her hair while the other rubbed her ass through her skirt.

"Hmm," she said to herself, pretending to ponder, "is it…silk? Satin? Lace? Or…" she slid her hand down, then back up, beneath Tara's skirt, pulling it up over her ass, "…ah, I thought so…"

"Perfume," Tara chuckled. She arched her back and spread her legs as Willow's hand roamed around her backside, moving back and forth over the crevice between her cheeks.

"Since we tangoed, I've been wearing a special scent," Tara replied, thrusting her hips back to meet Willow's teasing hand. "It's called Arousal for Willow." Willow's hand wove in her hair, holding her gently.

"You want it like this, sweetheart?" Willow asked softly, teasing Tara's sex with her fingertips.

"Stop teasing," Tara growled lustily, "slide those fingers into me and find out just how much I want it." Willow shivered at the tone in Tara's voice.

"You've got such a naughty streak in you," she grinned, taking a firm hold of Tara's hair. She straightened behind her and used her foot to nudge Tara's feet further apart, then without further ado, straightened two fingers and slid them quickly into Tara's dripping pussy.

"Oh yes," Tara whispered fiercely, "yes sweetie, you feel it, you feel how wet I am for you? Come on, yes sweetie, come on, deep sweetie, yes…"

"I guess I'm not the only one who got a bit worked up on the dance floor," Willow murmured, thrusting heartily, her remaining two fingers massaging Tara's lips with every stroke that sent her index and middle finger deep into her.

"My little Shy Bunny's such a naughty bunny," Willow chuckled, "she loves this so much, doesn't she? Don't you baby, hmm?"

"Want to try something new?" Willow teased. She felt Tara shudder in surprise, then arousal.

"Uh-huh," Tara replied, pushing her hips back as Willow kept up her fast pace, fucking her vigorously.

"You're so eager, baby," Willow teased, folding her thumb against her two fingers, bathing it in Tara's juices as she plunged in and out of her. Tara moaned inarticulately at the increased girth of Willow's penetrating digits, at the apex of each thrust, then whimpered as Willow opened her hand once more.

"Want this?" Willow asked once more, thrusting in, and rubbing the tip of her thumb against the tight pucker of Tara's asshole.

"Want you," Tara moaned, fighting to keep her voice down, "in me…don't care how…" She lunged her hips back, almost engulfing Willow. Willow felt the tight opening part over the tip of her thumb, but managed to deny Tara any more than that, for the moment.

"I'm in you baby," Willow whispered, "open up and take me in." She pressed forward, slightly slower than her earlier thrusts, to allow Tara to accommodate the new penetration, as well as the third finger she added to her sopping sex.

"Oh that's good," Tara gasped, "oh god Willow it's so good, I can feel you so much, I'm giving you so much-"

"You are," Willow whispered, keeping her fingers and thumb firmly buried in Tara, rocking inside her, back and forth, "you are baby, you're around me, you're godly baby, so hot and tight and wet and perfect-"

"Need you," Tara moaned, reaching back with one hand to scrabble at the waist of Willow's shorts, "need to feel you, sweetie, please – please baby, I've got so much of you, I need you to come, I need you to come while you're in me- "

"I'm yours," Willow promised, releasing her grip on Tara's hair and pulling her shorts down, kicking them off once they hit the floor. She returned her attention to Tara, wriggling her fingers inside her as her hand and Tara's hips moved as once. Expecting to feel Tara's hand on her sex, she was startled when instead she felt Tara's boot sliding up the inside of her thigh. She met Tara's gaze as she glanced over her shoulder for a second, and smiled lovingly and lustily.

"Take me baby," she whispered, moving her hips back to ease Tara's access to her. Bending her leg at the knee, Tara pointed her toes, sliding the smooth, shiny point of her boot towards Willow's opening. Willow hissed with pleasure as the cool, slick boot touched her pussy, and spread her legs wide, pushing herself down onto Tara's toe as far as she comfortably could.

"It's good baby," she moaned, "oh god yeah, so smooth, slides in so easy, so easy to get you in me, oh- oh god, oh god, oh g-" she clamped her free hand over her mouth to keep from moaning too loudly, as Tara rocked her leg back and forth, fucking her in synch with the intense workout she was giving Tara's pussy and ass at the same time.

"Come on sweetie," Tara whispered, grinning from ear to ear at Willow's arousal, "come all over shy little Tara's nice shiny boot." Willow moaned against her hand and thrust firmly into Tara, her hips shuddering as her pussy gripped its quarry and gushed over it. Tara needed no more incentive to let go of the tenuous hold she had on her own climax, and Willow found herself brought quickly to a second orgasm as Tara's ass clenched painfully tight while the nectar from her sex flowed freely all over her hand.

"Oh, baby," Willow moaned in a hushed, sated voice. Tara's foot slid slowly back down her thigh, leaving a trail of moisture behind it.

"Stay," Tara whispered, reaching back to hold Willow's wrist, "stay in me…like this…just for a little while?" Willow draped herself over Tara, kissing her shoulders, up to the back of her neck.

"Mmm, love you too," Tara sighed happily. She took a glance in the snooper's eyepiece. "No hurry, they're still congratulating themselves…"

"Good," Willow nodded, "wanna stay right here…hmmmm. You're a naughty, naughty spy, you know that?"

"Uh-huh," Willow giggled, "'shy little Tara…' Sweetheart, when it comes to love, you are Supergirl."

Various beach-goers looked around in surprise as a Aston-Martin DB9 Volante drove up over the concrete divider between the road and the beach and headed towards the water, despite being visibly empty. It steered carefully around the handful of stunned sunbathers in its way, paused while its retractable roof folded out and locked in place, then accelerated into the ocean with a splash and a trail of bubbles as it sank.

"We're clear," she whispered, and emerged into the corridor, followed by Willow, just finishing packing the snooper into her backpack. She was glancing constantly at her watch, which showed a tiny view of the ocean from their car's point of view, tapping a button now and then. Her lips quirked up as she glanced down past her wrist, and noticed Tara's boots in front of her.

"Your boot's still kind of shiny, compared to the other one," she grinned at Tara.

"Uh-huh, whose fault is that?" Tara shot back. She started forward, then paused and raised a hand.

"In three, two…" Tara counted. She held up a finger for 'one', then on 'zero' leapt around the corner, chopping the first of several soldiers in the throat, while Willow rolled beside her, kicking the legs from beneath another. The third had just enough time to say the "Wh-" in 'What the hell?' before Willow was on her feet, elbowing him sharply in the stomach as she stomped his fallen comrade in the head, while at the same time Tara was accounting for the fourth by way of a lightning-fast roundhouse kick. As one they turned on the final member of the party, only to freeze in shock.

The three stood motionless for a moment, in shock as they stared at each other. Then Willow grabbed Tara's wrist, Cordelia pulled a stun gun from her waist, aiming it at her former student's chest, and the corridor suddenly filled with thick black gas.

Tara stumbled as she was yanked sideways, out of the path of the stunner's electrical blast as it fired, and coughed until Willow's other hand found her lips and pressed the familiar shape of the breather/ball gag into her mouth. Unable to see she followed Willow's lead, away from Cordelia's coughing and swearing.

Blinded and choked, Cordelia fell to her hands and knees, holding a hand to her mouth to keep out as much of the gas as had drifted down to floor level. She stared around but couldn't see a thing, and Willow and Tara's footsteps were quickly fading. Coughing again she tore open her top and cupped her breast, activating the tiny communicator in the ring through her nipple.

"Cordelia?" Daniel's voice replied. "What's going on, what happened to McDonald's body?"

"I said seal the decks!" Cordelia shouted. "They're down here, the Bunnies, McDonald's probably with them, alive!"

"Nuts," Willow frowned, ducking into the spiraling stairwell only to find heavy steel irises closing above and below her. "We'll have to get out above." Tara looked back at the roiling mass of smog choking the corridor behind them.

"Anya's smokescreen bra, remember?" Willow said, gesturing to her suddenly- reduced chest. "What's our escape plan?"

"Uh, forward, towards the recreation deck," Tara said shakily. "Willow?" she added as they took off.

"She was the third person at the meeting," Willow explained quickly, "the one I couldn't get a look at the face of – I recognized her outfit. She's working with Daniel."

"I guess she's not anymore, she just tried to zap you," Willow sighed. She bit her lip at Tara's shocked expression, then took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Let's get through this, okay? Afterwards…we'll figure it out, whatever's going on." Tara looked pleadingly at her, then swallowed and nodded.

"Thanks," she said, joining Willow in a sprint along the corridor. "Where's the car?"

"On course," Willow replied, glancing at her watch. They reached a junction, peered around the corner warily, and ducked back quickly as shots rang out from a group of guards at the far end of the adjoining corridor.

"Give yourselves up and you won't be harmed!" a booming voice echoed down to them.

"You first!" Willow shouted back. "That's Adam Walsh, isn't it?" she asked Tara in a low voice. Tara nodded.

"And that's the only way to the deck, unless we double back," she added. A sign on the door opposite them, across the corridor, caught her attention.

"I've got an idea," she said, her voice firming. "Have you got anything to cover us, so we can get across there?"

"Can do," Willow said brightly, reaching behind her head and yanking her waist- length braided ponytail off. Working quickly she looped the braid into a circle, plugged the tip into the base, and gave it a series of twists, like a combination lock. The braided ring stiffened and sprouted blades along its length, becoming a sleek circular saw.

"I did a very thorough check of the manual," Willow assured her. "There's no way the blades could've solidified without the unlocking sequence. Ready?" She drew her arm back.

"Ready," Tara confirmed. Willow flung the bladed ring as hard as she could, tilting it as it left her hand so that it veered sideways down the corridor. There was a thunk as the blade embedded itself in the ceiling several meters further on, and Walsh's deep voice rang out "What the-"

"Surprise," Willow grinned, squeezing the bridge of her tinted glasses. The corridor was rocked by an explosion, and she and Tara sprinted across, glimpsing a pall of smoke and debris further down as they crossed the open space. Neither wasted time trying the door; Tara simply crashed through it shoulder-first, and she and Willow were safely out of the way before Walsh's guards began to blindly return fire.

They found themselves in a long, unoccupied cocktail bar, the far wall of which was glass, offering a view into the liner's huge swimming pool. A variety of bikini'd woman and speedo'd men were floating around, undertaking no exercise more strenuous than leisurely feeling each other up.

"They're going for a swim," Tara corrected her, glancing over her shoulder at the open door behind them as she handed Willow a boot. "Unscrew the heel, there's a grapple inside. Lock onto something solid and high."

"Gotcha," Willow nodded, jumping onto a table and jamming the spike inside the heel of the boot into the ceiling. With a brief whirr it buried itself fast; Tara pulled a bar stool over to the glass wall and did likewise.

"Hold on!" she called to Willow, pulling a bullet-sized vibrator from her belt and giving the end a solid twist. It began to emit a shrill whine, and with one hand clasped around her ceiling-mounted footwear she reached out the other and touched the tip of the vibrator to the glass, just as Adam Walsh hove into view in the doorway.

"Okay, now give yourselves up-" he began, just as the entire glass wall turned opaque with a spiderweb of cracks and disintegrated into tiny granules. Willow and Tara both clung to their handholds as the pool emptied itself through the room, pressing them up against the ceiling as the water surged past, sweeping away Walsh and his squad, and depositing the half-dressed swimmers on the pool floor as the water level dropped beneath them.

"Um, I think this is yours," Willow said, tossing a bright pink bikini top that had snagged on her elbow during the floor to a bemused and topless blonde, as she and Tara abandoned their boots and ran for the pool's ladder leading up to the main deck.

"Bring the car up to meet us," Tara said as they climbed out of the drained pool, soaking wet and still in costume, earning surprised glances from the various party-goers lounging around and wondering where the swimmers had gone. The two sprinted for the liner's starboard side, just as Harmony and a retinue of guards emerged from the ballroom deck behind them.

"Stop them!" Harmony yelled, catching sight of the escaping agents while her minions were busy glaring about unintelligently.

"Sorry, can't stay and chat!" Willow called over her shoulder, as she and Tara reached the edge of the deck. They vaulted over the side and flattened into perfect dives as they fell, plunging into the water with barely a splash.

"Oh, nuts!" Harmony yelled, seeing her targets vanish. She ran to the edge of the deck just in time to see Willow and Tara reach their surfacing Aston Martin, which drew back its retractable roof to let them in.

Long Beach, California
Aston Martin DB9 Volante (submersible edition)
1107 Hours

"Harmony's going to chase us," Willow sighed, stretching her shoulders as she switched the car's controls to manual. "I don't know whether to be relieved or insulted…what?"

"Nothing," Tara grinned, looking away from Willow's chest, which wasn't exactly concealed by her soaked and clinging Tomb Raider top. Willow looked down at herself and giggled, then her eye was caught by Tara as the blonde shook her head, spraying droplets around herself as her hair fanned out.

"Wow, you did the hair thing!" she exclaimed, to Tara's puzzlement. "You know," she explained, "the thing, with wet hair when you toss it and it goes all shimmery and like a curtain of silk, and the droplets get all adventurous and then they trickle down in all sorts of inviting ways…"

"You have supermodel hair," Willow clarified, as the car's roof resealed above them and the vehicle dipped back beneath the waves. "There are people whose whole job is to have hair, like hand doubles, you know? but for hair, and they wish they had hair like you do. And hey, there's some of that good old-fashioned Willow babble for you, just like mom used to make – actually she did have a tendency to go on, which is probably where I get it from…" She paused and nodded to herself, as if ensuring her train of thought had finally drawn to a complete halt before disembarking. "In conclusion," she said, reaching out to hold Tara's hand, "you're gorgeous."

"Th-thank you," Tara blushed. Her smile broadened as she looked down at their joined hands, and some of the tension in her shoulders began to melt away.

Daniel paced peevishly back and forth, darting glares at various security camera monitors and sonar displays, while the liner's crew kept out of his way. He looked up sharply as Cordelia entered the bridge with a figurative storm cloud over her head.

"Remember that part where you said security was water-tight?" Cordelia snapped back. Daniel nodded, then noticed Cordelia's arched eyebrow, and slumped his shoulders.

"And last week when I specifically said a security contract with Walsh and his goon squad isn't worth the paper it would be written on, if any of those morons could read?"

"Harmony's capable, surely-" he paused, hearing himself, and revised: "Even Harmony should be capable of dropping a depth charge without messing it up."

"You've been instructing her, haven't you?" Daniel asked her sharply. "She keeps going on about the 'supervillainess training' she's been getting from you."

"I've been doing what I can," Cordelia admitted. "But there's only so much that can be achieved without a complete brain transfusion. Or infusion, more like. Look, she's a nice girl, and if she's not actually ruthless she's at least air-headed enough that the idea of morality doesn't occur to her, but face it – she's never going to be a capable villain."

"Well we need her," Daniel said, "and that's that." Cordelia rolled her eyes and held her hands behind her back, watching through the bridge's forward windows as the distant helicopter lurched erratically around the sky.

"And, Cordelia," Daniel added, glaring at her, "your top…could you go put something intact on?" Cordelia glanced down at her attire, which she had torn open quite effectively, leaving most of her right breast and all of her left exposed.

"And I'm not in this game for your ideals," Cordelia snapped back. "Deal with it."

"Launching sonar probe now," Harmony said into her radio headset, stabbing at a button on the aircraft's pilot console. She frowned as the windscreen wipers flipped back and forth across the cockpit's glass.

"Launching sonar probe now," she said again, shutting off the wipers and trying another button. A slim torpedo dropped from the belly of the helicopter, on the end of a long cable that unreeled as it splashed through the surface of the ocean and sank quickly. In the cockpit a sonar display lit up and began chiming as the probe sent out its sound waves.

"Cool, this is just like all those submarine movies," Harmony chuckled as the display pinged at her.

"It's not you!" Harmony insisted. "You're the big sonar blob behind me, this one is out ahead!"

"What do you know, she's right," Cordelia noted. "Telemetry confirms, one target, size and echo profile match."

"Thank you," Harmony smiled. "Hey, wait," she added, suddenly frowning, "what do you mean, 'what do you know'? I can do this just fine!"

"Remember how we talked about not getting distracted every five seconds?" Cordelia's voice followed.

"Yeah, of course- oh. Right-o, no problemo…um hey, there's a bunch of triggers here, which one's the, you know, blow-up-submarine one?"

Cordelia clapped a hand over her radio mouthpiece and turned to the bridge's officers.

"Just keep firing until you get them," Cordelia advised Harmony, while Daniel sighed in relief.

Harmony's helicopter wheeled around and opened fire into the ocean beneath with a pair of air-to-air cannons, then a flamethrower, a net launcher, and finally an air-to-sea torpedo. A moment later the sea erupted with a massive sub-surface explosion, casting a huge plume of water into the air.

"Ha-ha!" Harmony's voice crowed over the radio. "I got the Bunnies, I got the Bunnies-" Daniel flipped the switch to mute the radio.

"Exactly, therefore it was a decoy," Cordelia said over her shoulder, heading for the hatch to the deck below. "The day she does something espionage-related right, I'll eat my body jewelry collection."

Long Beach, California
Aston Martin DB9 Volante (submersible edition)
1118 Hours

In the liner's submarine bay, in place of the Disco Volante's sight-seeing submarine, the Aston Martin bobbed gently in the pool. Willow finished hurriedly securing Lindsey McDonald's unconscious form in the car's rear luggage compartment, underneath the radar-guided rockets, and jumped over into the driver's seat.

"They got the decoy," Tara said, switching off the remote-control station concealed in the dashboard on her side.

"Sonar scramblers are a beautiful thing," Willow nodded, sealing the roof and taking the car down. "They're gonna have a fit when they find out they blew up their own pleasure sub."

"Harmony was piloting the helicopter," Tara said, "so it may not come as so much of a surprise…" She bit her lip thoughtfully, staring at the dashboard's various displays, as Willow piloted the submarine car out of the liner's bay and accelerated off towards the shore.

"Not Cordelia," Tara frowned, "which is what's worrying me. That helicopter is the only craft in the sky – where's Cordy?"

"I think we have a suspect," Willow suggested, as a red blip appeared on her surface sonar screen, moving away from the liner's large hull silhouette, and turning to pursue them.

Cordelia stood behind the pilot console of her sleek, powerful speedboat, minimally clad in a black PVC bikini with a green stripe on one side. She gunned the boat's hydrojet engines and grinned as the sonar contact on her screen drew closer.

"You don't get away that easily," she growled to herself, reaching beneath the console to press a hidden button. The forward deck of the power yacht opened to reveal four motorized rotary cannons, the roof slid back to make way for two missile batteries, on either side a pair of torpedo launchers emerged from hidden hatches, the sun deck behind the helm slid aside to reveal a mine layer, and lastly the vessel's trim changed from a neutral gold to Cordelia's favorite shade of emerald green.

Long Beach, California
Aston Martin DB9 Volante (submersible edition)
1120 Hours

"You know that just strikes me as extraneous," Willow complained, peering at a video display of the pursuing boat while Tara quickly accessed the Ministry mainframe through a wireless console in the glove compartment. "Having the racing stripes change color like that? That's just showing off."

"Cordelia always liked doing things theatrically," Tara noted, then warned: "But don't underestimate her.

"I won't," Willow promised. "I have no intention of being blown up today – I've got precious cargo on board. And him, too," she added, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the still-unconscious McDonald, visible through the viewport into the luggage compartment.

"Those torpedo launchers are sonar-capable," Tara warned. "There's closed launch ports in the hull beneath the waterline too, I don't know what's in those."

"We've got five seconds of turbo power, we could almost reach the beach," Willow mused as the car's defense consoles slid into place around the steering wheel. "But there's no guarantee she'd break off, and that beach is too packed for a firefight. I'm taking us back out, hold on!" Tara reached beneath her seat's cover and pulled out the straps of its safety harness, strapping herself in as quickly as she could while Willow sent the car diving down, rolling over and leveling out just above the ocean floor, heading back out to sea, beneath the fast-moving speedboat.

"Uh-uh," Cordelia shook her head, "no running away…bad girls." She slewed the boat around and sent a pair of torpedoes leaping from the side-mounted launchers and into the water.

"You're risking exposure," Daniel warned. "Harmony's mucking around we can pass off as a stunt, but if you keep opening fire with highly visible weaponry like that-"

"Would you shut up and let me do what you're paying me for?" Cordelia snapped. "I don't care about 'exposure'."

"I know," Daniel replied with a long-suffering sigh. "Would you just- when did you change clothes? I thought you were in a hurry!"

"I'll see you later, Daniel," Cordelia said with fake sweetness, switching off the screen. She glanced down at her attire and shrugged.

Under Willow's guidance the Ministry submarine car spiraled through the water, leaving a trail of glittering sonar flares in its wake. One of the two torpedoes took the bait and exploded harmlessly behind the vehicle which narrowly outpaced the shockwave from the blast. But the other torpedo dodged the flares and kept coming.

Long Beach, California
Aston Martin DB9 Volante (submersible edition)
1122 Hours

"Not until I know she's out of torpedoes," Willow shook her head. "How are you at warhead guidance"

"Firing countermeasure rocket," Willow said, pushing a button on the steering column's indicator rod which fired a thin missile from the back or the car, its liquid fuel engine leaving a wake of bubbles behind it. "You'll have to steer it in, it's not made for underwater work and the guidance systems won't handle it."

"I'll do my best," Tara said as a joystick emerged from the door handle beside her, and the glove compartment screen switched to a view from the rocket's on-board camera.

The torpedo closed in on the retreating car, riding through its wake with easy. At the last moment Willow jerked the vehicle into a straight climb, causing the pursuing warhead to overshoot beneath them. As it veered around the regain its target Tara's missile steamed in from the side and detonated, setting off the torpedo's larger payload.

Long Beach, California
Aston Martin DB9 Volante (submersible edition)
1123 Hours

"Hold tight!" Willow warned, as the explosion's shockwave buffeted into the car and tossed it about like a leaf in a storm. Willow fought the turbulence, gripping the steering wheel like grim death until they leveled out near the surface, when she finally let out an explosive sigh.

"Okay you know what?" she growled. "I don't like being shot at, and I really don't like you being shot at!" She steered the car around to point directly at the approaching hull of Cordelia's speedboat. "Have some high explosive, Miss Exhibitionist!"

The Aston Martin launched three torpedoes side-by-side, two darting left and right and one dipping further down, before all turning to close in on their target. With only meters to spare the launch ports in the bottom of the boat's hull irised open and disgorged a swarm of tiny projectiles that spread out around the boat and began to home in on the approaching warheads, while Cordelia veered off behind them. Each miniature torpedo detonated as soon as it was close enough, the multiple shockwaves toppling the incoming torpedoes and finally setting off their charges.

Long Beach, California
Aston Martin DB9 Volante (submersible edition)
1125 Hours

"Swarm torpedoes," Tara lamented, as she watched two more torpedoes appear on the sonar display, launching from Cordelia's boat and homing in on them. "She outguns us."

"Okay, let's look for another advantage," Willow said, gunning the engines and dodging to one side. The two torpedoes overshot, but veered around behind them and kept on coming.

"Her instructor gave her an A-plus, I think," Tara said, glancing back nervously at the pursuing torpedoes.

"He gave me an A-plus too," Willow said, "but added 'and she's crazy behind the wheel as well.' We've got our advantage. Hold on…um, again."

"'Hold on' seems to be a recurring feature of your driving," Tara said, offering Willow a hopeful smile.

"You're going to ram me?" Cordelia asked in disbelief, watching the Aston Martin's blip close in on her sonar screen. "Good luck babe, you'll need more than a nudge bar to get through this hull!"

Long Beach, California
Aston Martin DB9 Volante (submersible edition)
1126 Hours

"Have you ever seen 'Free Willy'?" Willow asked. Tara frowned in confusion, then her eyes widened as she caught on.

"Turbo now!" Willow announced, bracing herself and pressing a red button on the gear stick.

With a turbo-jet roar the Aston Martin leapt out of the water alongside Cordelia's speedboat, corkscrewing through the air above the stunned former agent, showering seawater in its wake. The battery of rotary cannons on the boat's deck quickly swiveled upright and let fly a stream of firepower into the air, but the car was moving too fast for the automated guns to track.

"You crazy bitch," Cordelia said in wry admiration as she watched the car splash back into the ocean on the far side of her boat. She grabbed a joystick that swiveled the torpedo launchers around to bear on her target, then glanced at the threat console as it started beeping alarmingly, showing the torpedoes that had been trailing the Aston Martin closing on her hull.

"Oh shit!" she yelled, leaping onto a rocket-powered jet ski mounted in the rear deck and holding on as it roared out of its launch track, a split second before her speedboat exploded behind her.

The jet ski thudded into the ocean surface, propellers taking over from the rocket motor as Cordelia swerved violently to gain control as she bounced from wave to wave. Finally wrestling the vehicle under control she swung around to see the blazing wreck of her boat slowly sinking, and craned her neck to see the Aston Martin surfacing some distance away before submerging again.

"I'll be seeing you girls again," she sneered, turning back towards the waiting Disco Volante.

"Agents Shy Bunny and Adorabunny reporting in, confirm please," Willow said, tweaking the tuning knobs on the car stereo that doubled as a satellite link.

"This is Ministry HQ," Fred's voice replied after a moment's static. "What's your status?"

"We have a prisoner," Willow reported. "Lindsey McDonald, sending ID for verification now. Request protection and interrogation facilities for him. Our hotel may be under hostile surveillance."

"We're in the Volante," Willow explained, "the Vanquish is back at the hotel. All equipment is packed and ready to move."

"Good work Agents. We'll send someone to pick up the Vanquish and get rid of any pursuit surveillance. Proceed south for rendezvous at Agent Hot Tamale's hacienda, we'll clear you for border crossing."

"Thanks, HQ," Willow said with a relieved sigh. "Also, important: I'm uploading snooper logs of a meeting between Daniel Osbourne and his associates. Highest priority on this information."

"Will do," Fred replied. "We'll analyze it and have orders for you by the time you get to Hot Tamale's facility."

"One more thing," Willow added, "we have a new hostile in play: Cordelia Chase."

"Confirmed, HQ," Willow said sadly. There was a pause from the other end of the satellite link.

"Acknowledged, Agent," Fred replied. "Transmit your report as soon as it's ready. We'll analyze and advise. HQ out." Willow nodded absently and switched off the link.

"South of the border," she said, forcing a grin. She glanced at Tara, then her face fell at the sight of her, staring off into the distance, looking pensive, troubled.

"Tara?" she asked gently, leaving the car to drive itself seeing as evasive driving wasn't called for on the sedate highway. The gear stick and centre console folded neatly out of the way, allowing Willow to shift over nearer Tara.

"I froze, back on the liner," Tara said bitterly. "I-I put both of us in danger. I should have-"

"Hey," Willow said tenderly, "it's okay – coming face to face with Cordelia like that, realizing…I'd have been just the same, if she'd been my mentor. And you were off for just a few seconds, and after that you were back in the game, you made good decisions, you got us out safely, remember?" Tara sniffled, half-turned toward Willow, but hesitated.

"Come here," Willow offered, opening her arms. Tara gratefully sank into her embrace, letting out a single sob, then sighing and breathing more easily.

"Just like that," Willow said, without hesitation. Tara drew back a little, but remained snuggled against Willow's side. Willow spared a moment to check that the car was coping with the traffic, then devoted her attention to stroking Tara's hair, soothing her.

"I can't believe it," Tara said quietly, after a while. "She was…so dedicated to the cause. She'd do anything for freedom of expression, anything at all. So many times she risked her life for a mission. I mean, you know the stories about Queen Bunny."

"They're not exaggerations," Tara went on. "She was unstoppable. She brought down the Pylean anti-music crusade almost single-handed…and Sensei Snyder and his ninja hall monitors? She infiltrated the armored gymnasium and fought them all for five hours to keep them from escaping until backup arrived. I can't believe she'd do this…I can't think why…what happened to her."

"Why did she leave?" Willow asked. "I mean there's rumors, but no-one really knows…"

"It was kept quiet," Tara nodded. "It was my last mission with her as a trainee. We were in Siberia, retrieving the stolen access codes for the Orbital Smutellite Network. The thieves had somehow got a hold of some ex-Soviet fembots, no-one knew beforehand, and we got pinned down pretty badly. She…she ordered me onto the last plane out, with the codes, while she fought a rearguard to protect my escape. I-I hated having to leave her…" She swallowed and gave Willow an apologetic look.

"It was five days before we got past their defenses to rescue her," Tara went on. "They'd caught her on the third, and they…they made her watch 50s ultra-conservative educational films. 'Polly the Perfect Housewife'…'Proper Behavior for Young Women'…even 'Why Showing Your Ankles Is A Sin'."

"She fought it all the way," Tara said. "She never gave in…but still, when we got her back to the Ministry, she was…it affected her. She requested indefinite leave, and then just vanished. No-one could find her. Th-they thought she'd given up the secret agent life completely – I mean, who could blame her? – and just settled down somewhere quiet, with a lover…or several…but this?"

"Maybe is was being kept prisoner, the attempt to brainwash her?" Willow suggested. "Maybe it did get to her, somehow."

"Maybe," Tara nodded. "She's the last person I'd have thought…she always said if it weren't for smut, she wouldn't be anything. She reveled in herself so much, in giving and receiving pleasure…I can't imagine her wanting to give that up."

"We'll see what the Ministry has to say," Willow said thoughtfully. "Maybe they know something else, or can figure out why…is there anyone else who knows her well? Did she have other trainees?" Tara shook her head.

"I was the only one," she said. "But perhaps M…she trained Cordelia, and I think she knows her better than anyone, even me. There was always…there was something Cordy held back, a private part of herself. We were good friends, of course, and I…I'm sure she'd have told me anything as an agent, but in our personal lives we never quite reached the tell-all-secrets stage."

"You and she…" Willow said hesitantly. Tara looked up, then smiled and shook her head.

"I'm not being all Jealousy Bunny," Willow said quickly, "I was just- I'm not, am I? Tell me if I'm being too intrusive?"

"There's no part of my life you're not welcome to," Tara assured her. "And no, Cordy and I never…we were honest with each other right from the start. What she wanted out of an 'encounter' was a sexual partner, and I wanted a lover, and she respected that." She giggled, just a trace of sadness remaining in her eyes. "She even set me up on a couple of blind dates, with other Bunnies, although they didn't work out. I didn't mind waiting for the right girl to come along." She rested her head on Willow's shoulder and put an arm around her waist, hugging her gently. "And she did. I'm so confused, Willow, I don't know what to think…but I'm so glad I have you."

A luxury helicopter set itself down on the Osbourne Tower's rooftop helipad, allowing a frustrated Daniel Osbourne and a fuming Cordelia Chase to disembark, followed by Harmony who was simply trying to keep out of the zone of hostility crackling between the two of them.

"Do you have any idea what this could cost me?" Daniel demanded as they boarded an elevator and descended to the apartment levels of the tower.

"Well seeing as I had a vague clue or two the last seven times you've asked that since we boarded the chopper," Cordelia sniped back, "which didn't stop you explaining it in terse-yet-annoying detail again anyway, yeah, I think the specifics haven't quite slipped my mind yet!"

"We'll have to move up the schedule," Daniel said sourly. "And switch operations from here to Europe. If the Ministry locates our base there-"

"We'll deal with it," Cordelia snapped. "Now you go do your angry megalomaniac thing in private, or in front of a mirror if you need an audience. I've just had my ass handed to be by an agent I trained and some redheaded slip of a girl I've never heard of, so if you'll excuse me I need to let off steam. Harmony?"

"You know I don't like the two of you…consorting," Daniel warned, as Harmony moved to Cordelia's side.

"Tough," Cordelia frowned. "I doubt you can find anyone qualified to replace me, and I know, god help us, you can't replace her. Go rant about immorality to some executive yes-men or something." She turned on her heel and headed to her private apartment. Harmony gave Daniel an apologetic shrug and followed in her wake, while the billionaire watched them go with a quiet glare.

Los Angeles, California
Osbourne Industries LA Headquarters, Cordelia's apartment
1323 Hours

Cordelia strode through the apartment door and promptly exploded, plucking a decorative candelabra from beside the fireplace and hurling it through an eight-foot-tall vase, which shattered impressively and expensively. She tore her bikini top off and whipped it into the fire, then stomped up the spiral staircase joining the expansive apartment's lounge to the upper level, harshly tugging apart the knots holding her thong in place until it fell in her wake.

Harmony closed the outer door and ascended the staircase, finding Cordelia at her exercise equipment doing reverse chin-ups with her legs straight out in an L position, her shoulders straining as she pulled herself up until the bar rested behind her neck.

"This is worse than that thing with Richard Wilkins, isn't it?" Harmony asked as Cordelia dropped back to the floor and rested her elbows on a vaulting horse.

"That was nothing," she said dismissively. "Just a stupid game to waste some time, I knew he'd never pull it off. This mattered."

"Daniel can relocate the broadcast thingy to Europe," Harmony suggested. "It's not, like, a disaster or anything…"

"Screw Daniel," Cordelia snapped. "I don't care. This is me and them, one on one. And I lost."

"It's not the end of the world," Harmony said, reaching over to massage Cordelia's shoulders.

"It is for me!" Cordelia insisted. "I'm the best! Or I should be…I wasn't today, was I?"

"They just caught you by surprise, that's all," Harmony said. "Plus there were two of them – two on one, that's not an even match. Actually you know what, I have this philosophy kind of thing for handling two-on-one situations, admittedly not these kinds of situations, if you know what I mean…"

"Oh," Harmony said. "Sorry." She paused a moment. "Is the massage helping?" Cordelia looked over her shoulder at the blonde, then turned her head forward again.

"You know what I need," she said quietly. Harmony's hands stilled, and she moved to lean on the vaulting horse beside Cordelia.

"The strap," Cordelia said. Harmony straightened, but had only gone a step when Cordelia turned and called after her: "Wait…the crop." Harmony turned, looking uncertain.

"No, it's not that," Harmony insisted. "Just…it's not one of those novelty ones." She bit her lip and gave Cordelia a puppy-dog stare. "I don't want to hurt you." Cordelia turned back to her.

"Well, okay," Harmony nodded, regaining her guileless smile, "if you're sure…"

"I'm sure," Cordelia agreed. "You won't hurt me." Harmony skipped off towards the bedroom, while Cordelia turned and leaned lengthwise across the vaulting horse again, spreading her arms and laying her body flat against it.

"You won't," she whispered sadly, "I do that all by myself." She let her head drop onto the horse. "But we can make it alright again," she added, a fragile smile spreading across her lips.

She straightened again at the sound of Harmony's footsteps returning from the bedroom, and without looking stood beneath the chin-up bar, reaching up to grasp it with her head hung forward between her shoulders.

"They have good horses there," Cordelia said. "It's not a toy. Get going, babe."

"Forty?" Harmony asked, surprised. "Well, okay, if it makes ya happy." She sauntered around behind Cordelia and scraped the tip of the crop down her spine and into the crevice between her ass cheeks. Cordelia hissed as Harmony worked the tightly- bound leather tongue between her thighs and stroked it across her labia.

"Are you teasing me?" she asked incredulously. "I don't recall telling you to tease me."

"Hey, I may not be good at much," Harmony said, hands on hips, "but I am good at fucking, in all its permutations!"

With a stinging crack! Harmony brought the crop down hard across the backs of Cordelia's thighs, leaving a line of white across her tanned skin that quickly flushed crimson as the former Bunny bucked her hips against thin air.

"AAH!" she screamed a second later, when her brain caught up with the sensations from her skin. "FUCK!"

"One," Harmony counted smugly. "Gotcha." She swung again, crack!, leaving a second scarlet mark next to the slowly-fading first.

"Two," she noted. The next three strokes lined the small of Cordelia's back, leaving her hanging limply from her grip on the bar above, panting in a mix of anguish and lust.

"C'mon, let's get serious," Harmony said after counting the fifth stroke. She used her booted foot to nudge Cordelia's legs apart, grinning with satisfaction at the glistening slick of nectar coating her inner thighs.

"Six," Harmony counted, as Cordelia gave an animal groan at the stroke across the inside of her left thigh. Crack!, the seventh landed inside her right thigh, eight and nine alternating back and forth. For the tenth stroke Harmony drew back impressively and let fly a stinging crack! across Cordelia's trembling ass.

Harmony sauntered around in front of her and took a handful of her short-cropped hair and lifted her head to look her in the eye.

"A…again," Cordelia growled. Harmony did a little happy dance, then trailed the tip of the crop up the inside of Cordelia's left thigh, and continued over her pouting lips and onto her hairless mound. Without warning she drew back her wrist and gave the crop a quick slap on Cordelia's mons, not as hard as she could have, but enough to make her ersatz victim jerk away for a second, before pushing her hips forward again, eyes closed and groaning.

"That's eleven," Harmony whispered, kneeling down between Cordelia's splayed legs. She leant forward and touched her tongue to her clit, then gave her a long, firm lick across her smarting, bare mound, across the tiny bunny tattoo there, and all the way up to her waist.

"Oh-kay then," Harmony shrugged, walking back around to stand behind her. The crop wove back and forth across her ass, then drew back and let fly, crack!, "Twelve!" Crack! "Thirteen!" CRACK! "Fourteen!" Cordelia let her mouth hang open, her breathing becoming a long, endless moan, in and out, as she swung her hips back to meet each stinging stroke across her ass.

Crack! "Thirty-nine!" Harmony exclaimed cheerfully, adding the latest in the network of slowly-fading scarlet stripes across Cordelia's tanned ass and thighs.

"Didja like that?" she asked, ducking to peer into Cordelia's downcast eyes. "One to go, you know – how do ya want it?" Cordelia remained speechless, only her moaning, panting breaths punctuating the silence, but her eyes fixed on Harmony's.

"Ooh, I know that look!" the blonde giggled. She reached up and pried Cordelia's fingers away from the bar above her, supporting her and taking her arm over her shoulders as she slumped. Her free hand traveled down Cordelia's flat stomach, lightly scratched the skin of her mound, then cupped her and dipped two fingers into her pouting pussy, quickly adding a third with ease.

"Yowza," she said, as Cordelia's moans increased in urgency, "you got the Pacific Ocean in there or something?" Tugging gently with her embedded hand she led the stumbling woman to the vaulting horse.

"But ya haven't come yet, huh?" Harmony grinned. Cordelia shook her head weakly, drawing her arm from around the blonde's shoulders to brace herself against the horse. Harmony withdrew her slick fingers and pressed down on Cordelia's back until she had lowered herself as far as she could, balanced between her hands on the horse and her widely-spread feet, her body horizontal, her ass spread, vulnerable.

"Do it," Cordelia rasped. Harmony stood beside her and readied the crop, trailing its tip down her back and into the crevice between her cheeks, until it came to rest on her asshole. She hesitated a moment, and Cordelia, sensing it, pushed her ass back.

Harmony bit her lip and swung, and with a final sharp crack! placed a stinging blow on Cordelia's vulnerable opening. The former bunny howled in a strange mix of pain and triumph, her legs buckled and she lost her grip on the horse in front of her, and Harmony had to quickly grab her to keep her from falling. They both slumped to the floor, Harmony tossing the crop away and holding Cordelia around the waist, as she convulsed again and again, both hands covering her crotch, one plunging four fingers deep within herself, the other pressing them in to the knuckles. With each climax came a sobbing cry of release, repeated quieter and quieter as her body slowly stilled, until she lay motionless save for the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

"You're a strange girl," Harmony said, taking a deep breath and releasing it in a sigh. She looked around idly, and her eyes fell on the fallen crop. Leaning over so as to reach it without letting go of her hold on the sleeping Cordelia, she picked it up, and aiming carefully, gave herself an experimental swat on the side of her ass.

"Ow!" she squeaked. "So not for me…" She sighed again, then rubbed herself where the crop had made contact, and delicately essayed another swat, with less force behind it.

"Ow!" she squealed again, though this time it was mixed with a giggle. "Okay, maybe a little…"

Agent Hot Tamale's Hacienda Fortress, Mexico
Guest Quarters, Living Room
2150 Hours

Willow finished typing up her report, sent it on its way across the Ministry Smut-Net to London for analysis, and closed her laptop to look thoughtfully across the table at Tara, still typing on her own laptop, and frequently stopping to frown thoughtfully at the screen. She felt Willow's eyes on her and glanced up, offering a quick smile.

"I type fast," Willow explained. "I was kind of born with a laptop and modem already attached."

"I bet your mother enjoyed that," Tara noted, earning a giggle. "I'll be done in a few minutes, I'm just adding whatever notes I can think of, about Cordelia today. Whatever might be useful."

"No problemo," Willow smiled. She stood and came around the table, reaching out to gently rub the back of Tara's neck.

"I, ah, just don't want to give you the wrong idea, and then disappoint you when we get there," she explained. "I'm not really feeling up to…today was hard, and I'm still trying to deal with it, so, what we would normally be getting up to, sharing a bath…" she gave Willow an apologetic smile. "I hate to be clichéd, but I'm kind of not in the mood, for that…"

"Not a problem," Willow assured her. "Not in any way, shape or form a problem, I promise a relaxing, non-smutty bathing experience, and good times all around."

"No, don't be," Willow replied quickly, crouching down to be at eye level with her. "Look, I won't deny the thought of me, you, naughtiness of the adults-only variety, it's more than just a pleasant way to pass the time, but…I want to be what you need, and if you need me to just hold you, cuddles and nothing more – even if you need your own space, and no me in the picture for a while – well then, that's what I want. I want to do what makes you happy, because, what makes you happy makes me happy, and it's handy how that works, I think. It's definitely a good thing, all with the goodness…"

Tara's smile widened as Willow spoke, and eventually she reached for Willow's hand, which had moved to rest on her shoulder, and brought it to her lips, silencing Willow with a soft kiss.

"There's never no you in the picture," she promised. Willow grinned and bit her lip.

"Well, then, I…you know what?" Willow said, then leaned forward and gave Tara a quick kiss on her lips, simple and loving. "I'll go get that bath going, and you come on in whenever you want."

Agent Hot Tamale's Hacienda Fortress, Mexico
Guest Quarters, Bathroom
2200 Hours

"Hey sweetie?" Tara asked, swinging the door closed behind her. She looked around when she heard an answering "Hey" from one side, and saw Willow perched on the edge of the marble vanity, with a cupboard open and various bottles of lotion and scented soaps strewn around. She was wearing a towel wrapped around her chest, which extended down just far enough to decently cover her – though if her legs, hanging off the edge of the counter, hadn't been crossed, it would have been a precarious distinction.

"Just checkin' out the selection," she said. "What do you think, pink bottle or purple bottle?" She held up two lotions.

"Pfft!" Willow protested. "Who chooses bath lotions that way? Oh, I know – both! Pink and purple – pinkle. Or purk. Punk? That's not right…"

"Gimme those," Tara laughed, taking the bottles from Willow. "Hmm…there's no A- Branch marking, so they probably won't explode if we mix them up."

"Oh well that's a good thing," Willow nodded. Tara glanced down at the lack of towel covering her upper chest, where her breasts, constrained slightly as they were by the material wrapped around just above her nipples, were lifted and displayed slightly.

"You're sure you're not trying to seduce me?" she asked, making sure her smile was wide enough that Willow wouldn't take her teasing too seriously.

"I promise no matter what, there is no chance you'll end up with a disappointed Willow tonight," Willow replied. "As if you ever could, anyway. But just because we're not going further than cuddles doesn't mean the scenery can't be nice, right?"

"Very nice," Tara nodded, as Willow slipped off the counter and walked over to the full, steaming bath to mix the lotions in, giving Tara the opportunity to admire her legs and rear as she bent over.

"Mmm," Tara said, half to herself. She slowly undid the sash of the dressing gown she had donned after finishing up her report, and slipped it from her shoulders, letting it slide slowly down her back.

"Lemme get that for you," Willow offered, taking the gown and hanging it on a hook on the wall. She returned to Tara and hugged her side-on, resting her head on her shoulder.

"You're so soft," she whispered dreamily, gently rubbing her cheek across Tara's skin. Tara smiled and kissed the top of her head, then worked her hand around to Willow's back and undid the loose knotted corners holding her towel in place. Willow stepped back a fraction to allow the towel to fall to the tiled floor, then moved back in, sharing a contented sigh with Tara as their bodies pressed together.

"Me neither," Willow agreed. "Oh, I know – c'mon, together." She and Tara both giggled as they crossed the short distance to the bath, still hugging, and stepped into the steaming water, supporting each other to keep their balance.

"You like the water hot," Tara noted, sinking down to kneel with the water lapping at her stomach.

"Yup," Willow said cheerfully, moving behind her and reaching for a washcloth and the soap, "hot, steamy, and full of Tara. Here," she offered, moving a waterproof cushion onto the side and nudging Tara to lean forward on it, "relax…there's plenty of room. Actually you know, my ideal bath would have one more element added."

"What's that?" Tara asked, crossing her arms over the cushion and resting her head sideways.

"Well…" Willow admitted, a smile and a blush waging a quick struggle for dominance on her face, "…I kind of have this thing for pink bubble bath…"

"You do?" Tara asked. "I like bubble bath…that's definitely going on our to-do list."

"Yay," Willow smiled, gently placing her hands on Tara's hips, one on either side. "Now, you just let me take care of everything…just relax…"

"Mmmm," Tara agreed, as Willow's hands traveled slowly up her sides, gently maneuvering her body so that she lay sidelong in the expansive bath, stretched out from her folded arms on the edge, with the water covering her breasts and reaching most of the way up her back, and Willow straddling her thighs. Willow paid great attention to washing her back, stroking her hands back and forth, spreading steamy water over her smooth skin before applying the soap and working up a lather that made her hands slide easily from the back of her neck right down to her waist.

Tara's eyes remained closed and she breathed slowly, concentrating her full attention on Willow's hands as they moved back and forth, up and down, sliding sensuously across her skin. Tara marveled at how, even though Willow's fingers frequently reached far enough around the sides of her body to brush against her breasts, and her palms often dipped far enough to cover the top of her ass, there was nothing sexual about her caresses – just love and care, given freely, and bestowed on Tara's smooth form in the knowledge that her touch was welcome, anywhere. The experience caused a bloom of pleasure within Tara's chest that was not arousal but satisfaction, almost like the aftermath of a strong climax – languid bliss, utter contentment, and no desire to do anything at all but lie right here amid a mist of joy that warmed and kissed her skin as the steam rose from the water around her.

Tara felt Willow's hands move to her shoulders and gently urge her up, and she let herself be rolled over without protest, or even opening her eyes. For a moment, though, she reached up and caught Willow's hand, squeezing gently, then she did as Willow silently bade, lying back, soaking, calm.

Willow took her leg and lifted it slowly out of the water, running her palms up and down from ankle to thigh and back again. Tara opened her eyes to see Willow rest her cheek against her gleaming calf as her hands moved down to her foot and began to wash it, careful not to tickle. Willow moved her cheek slightly, nuzzling Tara's skin in a subtle echo of the motions of her fingers moving around her foot and between her toes. Tara pursed her lips happily as Willow worked the soap smoothly into her skin, rhythmically massaging as she went.

She eventually lowered Tara's foot back into the water and repeated the process with her other, down to resting her cheek against Tara's calf as she held her leg up. When that was done she moved around to kneel between Tara's feet and, lifting both her legs, scooted forward so that Tara's knees rested over her thighs, affording her easy access as she worked up a good lather in her hands and applied it in long, slow strokes to Tara's legs, from her ankles all the way up to her thighs.

"Is this okay?" she asked quietly, breaking the almost meditative silence that had settled over them. Tara realized her hands had come to a halt on her inner thighs, half- way along above her knees. She nodded slightly and eased her legs open a fraction more.

She closed her eyes again, leaning her head back, and heard Willow's deep breath as she moved forward. Her hands warmed their way up Tara's thighs, and gently moved to her folds, pressing slightly, feeling the soft flesh give beneath her fingers. She avoided nothing, cupping her fingers first around Tara's mound, then to the edges of her labia, then gently parting them to stroke feather-soft among her yielding inner lips, and even between them to caress a fingertip around her entrance. She moved up, fingertips still parting Tara, and brushed over her clit, squeezing just slightly, acknowledging the tiny heartthrob bundle within its hood.

'Ohhhhh my gooooood,' Tara thought, as Willow repeated the gentle motion, from without to within, then up again. 'She can do this…she can touch me like this, and it soothes…it heals. How can she touch me there, and it still be simply tenderness? God…'

"Hmm?" Willow paused. Tara smiled at herself, and gave her voice over to her feelings.

Willow's hands resumed their bathing, and Tara could feel her answer spreading from her fingers. After some time she moved on, around Tara's hips to her ass, moving herself up so that her thighs rested beneath Tara's, supporting her half-floating to give her free access. Her hands were firmer now, but no less tender as she bathed Tara's cheeks, and between them, delicately circling her tight orifice.

Soon she made her way to Tara's stomach, her palms circling and caressing in slow patterns, and Tara couldn't help letting out a giggle as Willow's thumb dipped into her belly button and wiggled. Willow giggled with her, then her hands were rising, cupping Tara's breasts from beneath. She shifted again, moving as far forward as she could between Tara's legs, her abdomen flat against her sex.

"I like that," Tara murmured, as Willow slowly covered her breasts with her hands and massaged the soap into the soft, pliant flesh. "Being so close together…"

"Feels good," Willow agreed. She devoted herself to bathing Tara's breasts, making no secret of the pleasure she felt at touching them. Tara never considered objecting – she knew Willow would never ask for a pleasure she wasn't ready to give. There was no building momentum, no climax on the horizon to overshadow the gentle caresses Willow was bestowing on her – it was simply sharing for its own sake, not just sharing of bodies and pleasure, but sharing grief and sorrow if need be. Tara felt the burden on her heart lifting, bit by bit, as Willow cleaned away the day's hurt.

After a while Willow moved on, washing Tara's arms, working down to her hands, where she paid special attention to each finger one at a time, kissing each fingertip as she finished. Tara gave a contented murmur as Willow lay down beside her, cuddled up against her in the steamy water, and very gently began to wash her face, applying just enough water to be warm but not hot, caressing on a layer of soap and smoothly rinsing it away again, covering her chin, her cheeks, her forehead, her ears, and ending in a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose once she was done.

"Can I return the favor?" Tara offered. Willow chuckled and stretched, their bodies sliding easily against one another.

"You don't even need to ask," she nodded, laying back as Tara sat up beside her and took the soap from her unresisting hand.

"Oh man," Harmony yawned, "I hate trans-Atlantic flying." She and Cordelia were following Daniel through a corridor, in the approved supervillainous stainless steel, towards a control room up ahead.

"It took three and a half hours, Harm," Cordelia pointed out. "From LA, too – that's practically meteoric. Faster than even the Ministry's best supersonic transports can manage, too. Besides," she added in an undertone," it takes you longer than that to decide what to wear in the morning."

"It's a very important decision!" Harmony protested. "It can't be rushed – I mean, look at this place, if I'd worn white here I'd be so clashing with the décor."

"You don't have anything in white, Harmony," Cordelia snapped. "You got rid of everything in your wardrobe that wasn't black when you decided you wanted to be a supervillain."

"I know that Harm, I can see through your top same as everyone else. It's not a gender-specific term."

"'Villain' is an acceptable gender-neutral appellation. There's no reason to go around defining yourself by your gender, it's been shown in studies that women are just as capable of hijacking nuclear weapons and holding the world to ransom as men."

Harmony's face lit up as she looked ahead, to see Daniel giving her a faint smile before turning to descend into the control room. The balcony the corridor emerged on angled into a ramp, running half-way around the circular chamber and offering a comprehensive view of its cavernous size, and the matrix of huge steel support beams holding the great dome in place, like a massive metal spiderweb. Various computer stations, fitted with the regulation blinking lights, lined the perimeter of the steel cavern, but its centre was open, dominated by a large circular table, finished in brushed metal, with appropriately futuristic chairs around it.

"Okay, not bad," Cordelia admitted, nodding to Daniel. "I retract my prior statement – letting Harmony design the C&C may not have been the stupidest idea in all of history."

"Thank you," Harmony said, with what might have passed for good grace in poor light.

"That said," Cordelia continued quietly to Daniel as she caught him up on the ramp, "I give it two minutes before she does something dumb again."

"She's the most familiar with the Panacea program," Daniel said defensively. "It's natural she should oversee this support facility."

"So you like it?" Harmony said, skipping up just as they reached the floor and headed for the conference table. "You've got all your computer access whatsies all in the one place, access to the underground garage over there…there's inlaid controls in the master chair – red button's the chair-dropper and flamethrower arrangement, blue for the video screens for boastful exposition of your plans-"

"…green for summoning minions – I laid in some extra minions for the barracks level up above, with custom uniforms, which were kind of pricey, but I was sure you wouldn't want your minions outfitted off the rack." She shuddered at the thought.

"Where's the Panacea matrix?" Daniel asked, inspecting the control panel on the arm of his chair.

"Under the table," Harmony said proudly. "Anytime you want to bring it out and gloat, just push the yellow button and the whole thing folds open and it rises up out of the floor, it's really cool. Oh, the black button is for the deadly animal pit, I had the engineers make sure the spy-lowering device in that works extra slow. Uh, the hatch is over there," she added, pointing at a nondescript patch of floor, "so don't stand there, 'cause, you know, deadly animals…"

Daniel prodded the button experimentally, which produced a set of solid steel manacles lowering slowly from the ceiling above a pit which slid open in the floor, nowhere near where Harmony had indicated.

"Oh!" she pouted. "Oh, my bad – the circuit breakers are over there, that's the deadly animal pit. Okay, best we found that out before we had to use it."

"You think?" Cordelia asked. She joined Daniel at the edge of the pit, peering in. The pit was thirty feet deep, twenty of them filled with water, including various submerged hatches covered by metal grates.

"The habitat's at the other end of the tunnels," Harmony explained. "This is just, you know, the spy-killing part of it."

"So, what…?" Daniel prompted. Harmony leaned over to push a button on the chair, and the grates swung open. After a moment's expectant silence, a squat, furry creature swam out and began to circle around the pit.

"I can see it's a platypus," Daniel replied. "I want to know what it's doing in my underground lair."

"Well I was as surprised as you are," Harmony began, "but I was talking with the guy at the evil pet store last week when I was finishing setting this place up, and it turns out that platypussies-"

"-have these little spines just behind their back legs, and there's like toxin or something in them, and it's actually enough to kill a dog, so I figured, well, it'd at least cause blinding pain in a human, or something."

"And electric eels are, like, impossible to get," Harmony carried on, "and there's been some kind of ban on using piranhas since some guy with a laser satellite accidentally made his spy-killing pool too shallow and a bunch got stepped on by mistake, and this was all they had…but look at her, isn't she just precious?"

"I know what you're going to say," Harmony began knowingly, "but I really think we should be giving opportunities to the less-used evil animals – I mean, god, could sharks have any more publicity? That's totally like leather pants, they've been done already, time to move on."

"Well…" she said hesitantly, "I did get a cheap deal on a head-mounted laser…Only it's not waterproofed yet, the guys at the store said it'd be ready in maybe two weeks?"

"And look at her!" Harmony went on. "She wants to help out so much – can't you just, like, feel the villainy radiating off her?"

Cordelia gazed down at the platypus, which had stopped circling and was drifting lazily around.

"I named her Platypussy Galore," Harmony said proudly. Cordelia nodded and turned from the pool.

"I don't know, throw her in the platypus tank or something," Cordelia shrugged. "Maybe it'll put a ladder in her stocking or something equally horrific. I'm going to check the facility's defenses, just in case all the sentry cannons are fitted with nerf guns or something."

Willow looked up from her laptop as the room's wall-mounted screen came on, showing a call waiting. She glanced over her shoulder at Tara, still sleeping contentedly in the queen-sized bed, pulled her dressing gown around herself, and moved into the kitchenette to take the call there.

"Hot Tamale here," said the agent on the other end when Willow put the call through.

"New files from the London office," Agent Hot Tamale said. "They're being downloaded to your laptop now. And your Mr. McDonald has been singing like a canary, we've put together quite a profile on Osbourne's operations with his help."

"He's a lightweight," she said dismissively. "It only took a couple of hours. London's had analysts work on the transcripts, the results are all there for you. They say be ready to go in five hours, Kitten One is on the way to take you to Europe. I've deployed the airstrip – which incidentally has covered up the pool," she added in annoyance.

She returned to the apartment's main room just in time to see Tara stirring from her sleep, and her laptop beeping softly as a list of new files appeared, marked 'urgent'.

"Good morning," Willow said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Tara blinked in the light, then snuck a hand out from beneath the covers to stroke her thigh.

"Oh, sorry," Willow said, covering Tara's hand with her own. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't sure," Willow nodded. "I liked watching you sleep, anyway. They've sent new files from the McDonald interrogation. There's no hurry, our ride won't be here for five hours. They're sending Kitten One."

"Wow, they're not wasting any time," Tara said, sitting up. She noticed, with a grin, Willow's eyes roving over her body as the sheets fell to her waist.

"Yeah," Willow agreed. "By tonight we'll be in Europe – somewhere, I haven't checked the destination…yet…" She trailed off as Tara executed a classic stretch-and- yawn, arms out above and behind her head, back arched, breasts fully on display.

"Take your time," Willow offered. "I had a shower earlier. I'll get dressed and go over the files."

"If I'm not fully dressed, how are you going to un-dress me?" Willow asked innocently.

"Oh, yes," Tara nodded thoughtfully. "That's a…definitely a point to bear in mind." She grinned and leaned over to give Willow a kiss. "Back soon," she added as she slid off the bed. Willow gazed unashamedly at her retreating form, then, once the bathroom door was closed, glanced towards the walk-in wardrobe and grinned.

"Is that breakfast I smell?" Tara asked, poking her head through the ajar door. Willow looked up from her laptop and nodded.

"There's toast, cheese, croissants, various jams, scrambled eggs – take your pick," she said, gesturing to the plates arrayed on the table. "I tried pancakes, but they came out kind of funny-shaped…"

"I like funny shapes," Tara said, emerging from the bathroom with a towel wrapped not very thoroughly around herself. "Croissants sound good…Willow?"

"Yup?" Willow grinned. Tara, having rounded the table and gotten a good look at Willow, laughed happily.

"What's this?" she giggled, waving a hand at Willow's attire – sneakers, blue overalls over a light grey long-sleeved top, even a Scooby Doo watch. Her hair hung straighter than usual, making it seem a touch longer, trailing silkily over her shoulders and around her collar.

"You remember I mentioned the me of my school years?" Willow smiled. "Miss conservative who liked exercising her imagination reading naughty stories? I thought you might like to meet her. From what the wardrobe's disguise section had on offer, this is pretty close to Willow Rosenberg, circa high school."

Tara smiled widely as she took in Willow from head to toe and back again, shaking her head in amusement.

"Adorable," Tara corrected her. "Absolutely adorable, you're…my god, you're so cute! I just want to hug you forever!"

"I ain't stoppin' ya," Willow noted. Tara took half a step towards her, then paused, her smile turning thoughtful.

"I've got a better idea," she said, turning to scoop a croissant onto a plate. "I just have to get something ready. Stay here, I'll be back before you know it."

"Um…okay," Willow shrugged, watching in confusion as Tara took her plate and headed for the wardrobe.

Willow was still typing away happily, a half-eaten slice of toast and jam on her plate, when she heard the voice from behind her.

Willow spun around, not exactly startled by Tara's voice, but wondering at the oddly authoritarian tone. Tara was walking slowly towards her, her hair done up in a severe bun, wearing slim glasses, discreet yet eye-catching makeup, a very businesslike-looking suit with a jacket opened just enough to give a tantalizing hint of the tight silk blouse beneath, and a matching short skirt that showed off her legs, clad in dark stockings, to great effect.

Before Willow could respond Tara spoke again, accentuating the slightly British undertones in her usual American accent.

"I'm your teacher, Miss Maclay," she said. Willow opened her mouth to voice a question, then caught on and nodded, fighting a quick, intense battle with herself not to grin like a cat that had just caught a full-sized pterodactyl. Tara produced a notebook from behind her back and glanced at it.

"You're approaching your final exams," she said, all business, "and I see you're receiving top marks in all subjects…except one?"

"Miss?" Willow asked meekly. Tara flashed a quick grin at her, then resumed her role.

"Sex Ed," she said. "We can't have you graduating with only a B- now, can we? Your other teachers tell me you're a very diligent student, so I'm sure you'd like straight A- plusses across your courses."

"Yes Miss," Willow nodded. Tara smiled politely and sat on the edge of the table, just beside Willow's laptop.

"I think I know how we can improve your grades in this area," she said, her voice dropping slightly, becoming more personal, and a touch more sensual. "Learning such an…intimate subject purely from textbooks can be counter-productive. I think you could benefit from a more hands-on teaching style. Don't you agree?"

"I-I'd like to try, Miss," Willow nodded again. Tara's teacherlike manner was bringing back her memories of high school, and she found it easy to mimic her own nervous, eager mannerisms from back then.

"That's what I like to hear," Tara smiled, sitting a little further back on the table edge, so that her thighs and knees rose into Willow's field of view.

"Now, just so I can tailor your 'lesson'," she added with a friendly, subtly sensuous grin, "are you attracted to boys, girls, or both?"

"Girls, Miss," Willow replied promptly. 'Okay, so I'm not technically staying in character for my teenaged self,' she admitted silently. 'But who knows? If I'd ever had a teacher this hot, maybe I would have figured myself out a lot sooner.'

"I see," Tara said inscrutably. "Now before we get into more…thorough detail, I want to throw a key question at you. In terms of arousal…" She leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee, capturing Willow's gaze in her own. "…what's the most influential part of you?" Willow assumed her 'thinking frown'.

"Perfect answer," Tara nodded. She glanced towards the couch across the room. "Would you prefer we sit over there? It seems a bit stilted to be talking about these kinds of things at an uncomfortable old school desk."

"Um, yes Miss," Willow agreed. She turned as she got to her feet, and felt Tara's hand rest softly in the small of her back for just a moment as they walked together to the couch and sat down, Tara positioning herself almost close enough for their legs to touch, but not quite. Willow sat with her hands on her knees, the image of the attentive student, while Tara's hands rested in her lap, idly holding her notebook.

"Speaking of imagination," she resumed, "If it's alright with you…how about you give me an example of something you've thought about that's made you become aroused?"

"Uh, an example, Miss?" Willow asked, feigning the wide-eyed nervousness she always used to feel whenever she wasn't sure she knew the right answer right away, even though a scenario was beginning to form in her mind.

"It's alright," Tara assured her. "Anything you tell me will be just between us. And there's nothing wrong with fantasizing, you know. It's quite healthy, and most people do it all the time. I certainly do," she added, with a reassuring smile, and just a hint in her eyes that the object of her fantasies was sitting right next to her. Willow returned the smile automatically, and nodded.

"Suppose we start slow," Tara went on. "Have you ever fantasized about a specific person?"

Willow met her steady gaze for a moment, looked down at her hands, then glanced sidelong at her again and nodded.

"You," Willow blurted. 'Yep, classic Willow,' she grinned inwardly. 'Ninety percent clamming up like a…clam, ten percent embarrassing revelations.' When she judged she had spent enough time fidgeting nervously, she glanced back up at Tara to see her smile. 'At least I know this 'encounter' isn't going to end in frustration,' she thought, giving a grin to match Tara's.

"Really?" Tara said after a moment. "Have you…ever thought of what it would be like, if I were to touch you?"

'Okay,' Willow thought quickly, 'going with classic school-Willow, this would be where I chicken out and make a lame excuse to leave, and regret it for the next few months…Let's change the script there, just a little.'

"And did you enjoy those thoughts?" Tara asked, and her voice was low and steady, not so much a whisper as a purr. Willow bit her lip and nodded.

"I'm flattered," Tara went on. "You know, there's an opportunity here…I think I know a way I can teach you what you need to know, and make it an experience we'll both enjoy. You know it's easier to learn if you're enjoying yourself?"

"Good," Tara smiled. "Let's begin, then – we'll review the more relevant anatomy first. Studying this kind of thing from a textbook can be so dry don't you think? I think we can improve on that method."

Tara moved her hand from her lap, and Willow watched as it neared her. She inhaled quickly, a shallow breath, as Tara's fingers brushed against her neck.

"What's this?" Tara asked. Willow swallowed to moisten her suddenly-dry mouth. 'Guess all the moisture's moved south.'

"And if, as you've imagined, I'm touching you here, intimately…what might I do here?" Tara moved her fingertips slowly back and forth, in time with Willow's breathing, as if she was stroking the air in and out of Willow's lungs.

"We don't have a textbook to check the answers," Tara said softly. "But perhaps, we can see for ourselves…if you'd like?" Willow took a breath, held it a moment, and nodded. Tara leant close to her, opened her lips, and delicately placed them against Willow's neck. Willow closed her eyes and let out a little whimper of delight as Tara pressed harder and began to suck, while the tip of her tongue played back and forth as her fingertips had done.

"Mmm," Willow murmured quietly, "uh…yeah…ah, yes…" Tara leaned back, allowing just a little distance between her lips and Willow's moist skin.

"Let's move on, shall we?" Tara smiled. "We've still got a lot of our lesson to cover." She slowly undid one of the shoulder straps on Willow's overalls and, watching her face all the while, slid her hand inside to cup her breast.

"Mmmm," Willow sighed at the back of her throat, as Tara held her and gently squeezed.

"Breast, Miss," Willow whispered, instinctively arching her back to press herself into Tara's palm. Tara nodded and slid her hand down over Willow's breast, so that her thumb grazed the bump where her nipple was poking against the fabric of her shirt and bra. Willow jolted and gasped.

"Has anyone ever touched you like this?" Tara asked softly. Willow hesitated, then shook her head.

"Good," Tara grinned. "There's some important physical reactions we should study here…it's a little difficult to take proper note of them, though, when we can't…see for ourselves."

Willow feigned an astonished glance, then let her expression fade into nervous excitement at the thought. Tara withdrew her hand and slowly undid the other clasp holding Willow's overalls up, sliding them gradually down around her waist. Willow's top beneath it proved to be a size too small, offering an enticing glimpse of skin where it didn't quite reach down far enough to cover the bottom of her stomach, and Tara made sure to brush her fingertips against it in passing.

Tara noted Willow's show of hesitant excitement as she touched her skin, and sat back for a moment.

"Uh…uh, no. No!" Willow insisted vehemently. "No, nuh-uh, all part of the learning experience…just, you know…" she trailed off, with a bashful smile perfectly pitched to tickle Tara's amusement, as well as other parts of her.

"I know," she nodded understandingly, half-concealing her delight, "it's not easy to relax when you're…exposed," her voice dropped half a sexy octave as she said the word. "Perhaps it might help if you weren't the only one?" She smiled reassuringly at Willow's surprised glance. "Well, then we'd both be in the same boat? Neither of us would be feeling more open than the other, so…"

"Um, yeah," Willow nodded. "I, ah, I get it, yeah. Yeah…" she repeated, as Tara undid the buttons on her jacket and let it fall open, revealing the full extent of her blouse's tight, figure-hugging slightly-transparent unsuitability for teaching. Her hands found the bottom of her shirt and fiddled with its hem while Tara unbuttoned her blouse and peeled it off herself. Beneath she wore a satiny black bra, which was cut in just the right way that its simplicity made it maddeningly seductive.

Tara glanced at Willow as she in turn pulled her top up over her head and dropped it behind herself. She had to suppress a giggle at the cotton bra she wore, plain white with little flowers adorning its edges – the very picture of innocence, or at least it would have been, had it not been styled so as to reveal rather a lot of Willow's modest yet firm cleavage, and made from fabric so thin as to leave very little to the imagination. She looked back at Tara with demure nervousness, and amusement sparkling in her eyes nonetheless.

"Well," Tara said, "I imagine I look a little silly, with just a skirt and no top…so…" She flashed Willow a smile as she stood, undid the zip at the side of her skirt, and slid it down her legs, along the way revealing matching black satin panties, and the tops of her dark stockings, clinging tightly to her thighs.

"You-you're…very…beautiful, Miss," Willow said tentatively, raking her eyes up and down Tara's form.

"Thank you Willow," she smiled, ducking her head in acknowledgement, every bit the polite, proper teacher in spite of her considerably improper state of dress.

"Should I…?" Willow asked, putting a hand on the overalls around her waist. Tara glanced down, then shook her head.

"No hurry," she said. "We'll get to that, in time. Now, where were we…?" She put her hand on Willow's shoulder and slid it slowly down to her breast, tracing the edge of her bra.

"Let's review," she said, "breast…nipple…this?" she asked, stroking the darker halo around Willow's nipple, just visible through the thin cotton.

"And suppose you were aroused," Tara went on, "as I see…you are…" Willow couldn't help a moan as Tara gripped her more firmly, while moving closer on the cough so that she could reach around Willow's back and take her other breast into her hand as well.

"Um," Willow temporized, to gain time for her brain to start working again. Tara waited patiently, rhythmically squeezing and stroking her breasts, both hands moving in perfect time.

"Indeed," Tara nodded. "Let's take a look, shall we?" She leaned down, and Willow giggled softly as she felt her lips on her back. Her mouth moved over the clasp of her bra, Willow felt her tongue work, and then her bra was undone, held in place loosely over her shoulders, and by Tara's hands still cupping her breasts.

'That's a neat trick,' she grinned inwardly, doing her best to keep from slipping out of character by displaying her amusement too obviously.

"Now," Tara went on, allowing the bra to slide out from beneath her grip inch by inch, "we see…ah, there you go," she smiled as she lowered her hands, bringing Willow's nipples into view. "Quite firm…it's always more rewarding to see results like this first-hand, isn't it? Rather than just reading them from a boring old textbook."

"Ah, yes Miss," Willow moaned quietly, as Tara's fingers lightly stroked her nipples.

"Mmm," Tara agreed, "and so much more memorable…I'm sure you won't forget this come exam time, will you?"

"Well now, we've achieved arousal through squeezing the breasts," Tara noted. "So tell me, what other methods might yield the same results?"

"Um, stroking," Willow replied, as Tara began to do just that. "Squeezing…ooh…squeezing the nipples…o-or stroking them, too…or even pinching?"

"Mmm-hmm," Tara murmured. "No reason not to, if your partner enjoys it…do you, Willow?" she asked, taking her nipples between each thumb and forefinger and applying a steadily increasing pressure.

"There's also the possibility of oral stimulation," Tara purred into her ear. "Kissing and licking the breasts…kissing the nipples…licking, and sucking…nibbling…even biting, if you're careful…it can be very exciting, you know…"

"Oh god," Willow moaned. She began to squirm as Tara pressed harder, but then suddenly released her. Her left hand remained on her breasts, caressing soothingly from one to the other, while the other, reaching around her, slid down her stomach.

"We don't want to spend too much time on just nipples," she explained as her fingertips reached the bundled-up overalls around her waist. "There's a lot more to get through in our curriculum, after all. May I?"

"Yes Miss," Willow said – probably a bit too eagerly, for nervous teenaged Willow, but Tara didn't seem inclined to point this out, as she spread her legs and lifted her hips slightly, offering herself into Tara's care.

"Thank you Willow," she said, sliding her fingers beneath the heavy, loose material, feeling the thin cotton underneath.

"Let's keep reviewing our anatomy," she murmured. Her hand stilled beneath Willow's waist. "Here?"

"Um…Venus, Miss," Willow replied. "Roman goddess of love…Aphrodite to the Greeks…" 'Sitting on the couch next to me, it seems,' she added in the privacy of her thoughts.

"Mmm-hmm," Tara confirmed, stroking her fingertips across Willow's cotton-clad skin. "It's quite satisfying to lick, and can be sexually sensitive, in some women. But moving on," she grinned at Willow's quiet moan, and reached further between her legs, feeling the heat and moisture of her sex as she cupped her mound.

"Vulva," Willow whispered, trying not to start grinding herself into Tara's hand.

"It's a good word, isn't it?" Tara went on. "Derived from the Latin word for 'womb'…although now, it refers to this here, the external genitalia…funny how words change over time, isn't it? No doubt because it's such a fitting name…vulva," she whispered into Willow's ear, shifting slightly to sit half behind her. "Sounds luxurious, like velvet…but deeper, somehow…the sound of it hints at what's inside…and similar to 'lover', too…vulva…" She rolled the word around her tongue, squeezing Willow gently as she did so.

"Yes Miss," Willow managed in a hushed breath, not sure whether she was agreeing with her monologue or her ministrations.

"Very fitting," Tara continued, "as lovers enjoy giving pleasure to each other, and there's so much pleasure to be given here…" She pulled her hand back a little, so that her forefinger could find Willow's clit through the fabric, then all of a sudden began rocking her hand from side to side, rolling her fingertip quickly back and forth over her clit.

Her back arched, her hips bucked, her whole body straining under Tara's unrelenting stimulation of her clit. Tara held her firmly with her free hand, as the one busy between her thighs stayed in place, shuddering back and forth.

"UhhhUhhhUhhhUhhhUhhh-" Willow moaned, one long exclamation voicing her rapidly rising pleasure, until she seemed on the verge of peaking, and Tara's hand stilled.

"Sudden changes of pace can be very effective," Tara noted, smiling broadly. "Remember that, it may be worth bonus marks in the exam."

"But we don't want to finish just yet," Tara said. "Not when we have more material to study…" She lithely slid behind Willow, stretching out her legs on either side of her. Her hands went to Willow's waist, gathering the bunched-up overalls, while her thumbs slid beneath the waist of her panties.

"So eager to learn," Tara smiled. "You're a joy to teach, Willow." Willow beamed with pride as Tara slid her overalls down, panties too, to just above her knees, where she left them and returned her hands to her waist.

"Now that we can see what we're doing," she said with a chuckle, "we jumped ahead a bit there…just to stimulate your learning. What do we call this?" Her fingertip moved down to rest at the top of Willow's sex, touching very gently.

"Very sensitive," Tara nodded. "Typically protected beneath the clitoral hood, but during times of arousal…such as now…some swelling occurs, causing the clitoris to become exposed. Her size varies, naturally, and for some women the clitoris may be partially exposed at all times. Of course, you have to be careful here, too much stimulation at the wrong time could be very uncomfortable for your partner. But at the right time, as we've just seen…the feelings can be incredible…can't they?"

"It can be stimulated manually, as we've just seen," Tara continued, "or orally…just like your nipples, licking, sucking, even nibbling…or in fact, physical contact with practically anything, any toys you may be using, or any part of your body, or your lover's body, can be very pleasurable."

"Think of that next time you see Samantha the witch wiggle her nose," Tara smiled. Willow giggled, at which Tara nuzzled her neck from behind.

"Willow, are you trying to distract me, to avoid your lesson?" she asked, her voice openly cheeky.

"Well then we'll proceed," Tara replied, with more than a little satisfaction. "We'll leave the clitoris for the moment – don't worry," she added at Willow's protesting whimper, "I'm sure she won't be lonely for long, but we have other things to learn. And we do want to be thorough, don't we?"

"Yes Miss," Willow said without hesitation. Tara nodded and moved her hand forward a little, stroking her index finger and middle finger down either side of Willow's slick pussy.

"Outer labia, Miss," Willow replied promptly, sighing and spreading her thighs wider. "Or labia majora."

"Mmm-hmm," Tara nodded. She delicately parted Willow's lips and stroked her sensitive inner folds. "And?"

"Yesss," Tara whispered in her ear, tickling her with her breath. "Protected by the outer lips, very soft, very sensitive…very intimate. And within…would you open yourself for me, Willow?"

Willow smiled and snuck a hand in beneath Tara's, sliding her fingers between her lips and gently spreading them.

"Thank you," Tara murmured. "And now…?" She extended her forefinger and placed it delicately at Willow's entrance.

"V-vaginal opening, Miss," Willow whispered. Tara returned her free hand to Willow's chest and began slowly massaging her breasts, squeezing her nipples lightly in the gaps between her fingers.

"Yes Miss," Willow said at once, adding in a serious tone: "w-we can't leave anything out. There might be a question on it in the exam."

"Yes," Tara laughed, "you're quite right. Well then…The vagina can be a source of tremendous pleasure, and most women – not all, but most – enjoy penetration a great deal. You're also very flexible, very elastic…the sensations of something pressing against the inside of the opening can be very erotic, as, in some cases, can be the sensation of being stretched wider than is normally the case. Of course, one should start slowly – comfort is of the utmost importance. So…"

She slid her fingertip into Willow, meeting little resistance from her soaked passage, until Willow suddenly clenched her muscles hard, overcoming Tara's gentle pressure and immobilizing her finger.

"Ah," Tara nodded, placing a little kiss on the side of Willow's neck. "Of course, the traditional symbol of virginity – though it's a delicate barrier, and can be broken by strenuous exercise, horse-riding being the typical example." She grinned at Willow's tiny shudder. "Conversely, with the various options available for external stimulation, the presence of the hymen does not, in itself, indicate a woman is not sexually active and fulfilled." She stirred her fingertip inside Willow. "Nevertheless, the historic, symbolic importance of the hymen runs deep, and there's no reason to dismiss it."

"If you wish, breaking the hymen can symbolize your love for your partner. Giving him, or in your case her, a gift…allowing her into a part of yourself that is as yet untouched. It becomes an extension of the act of penetration, that first time, and can be pleasurable as a result, even though there is a degree of pain associated with it. In your mind, allowing and trusting to your partner this…vulnerability…can magnify your feelings enormously. Making love is, after all, far from purely physical."

"So it follows," Tara murmured, "if that's how you want to regard it, that this is something you should only do with someone you love…someone you want to give yourself to…someone you feel safe with…someone you can be vulnerable to…and someone who feels the same for you, who will accept your gift of yourself and cherish you…who will never fear to be as vulnerable to you as you are making yourself for her, because she loves you, and trusts you."

"Certainly, Willow," Tara purred. At the same time her hand squeezed Willow's left breast firmly, pressing in on either side of her nipple with her fingers, her thumb found her clit and rubbed firmly against it, and she extended her finger straight and with a single, steady thrust, buried the digit inside Willow.

"Oh god!" Willow exclaimed, jolting convulsively. Tara held her hands still, letting Willow set the pace, smiling as her hips rolled and thrust by themselves, her pussy squeezing and relaxing, rising and then surging down, making love.

"How do you feel, Willow?" she asked, resuming her firm caressing of her breasts, and stroking her thumb and remaining fingers here and there among Willow's folds, just clear of her clit for the time being.

"You're inside me, Miss," Willow whispered, her head tilting back to rest on Tara's shoulder.

"Do you like it?" Tara asked, rather rhetorically in light of how Willow was moving.

"No," she replied, "there was a little pain, but it didn't hurt me at all. Miss, can you…" she added tentatively, "can I take more?"

"That's up to you," Tara said, wasting no time in adding a second finger to Willow's grasping pussy. Her body, evidently with no intention of playing along with Willow's virginity game, accepted the thrust easily and reveled in it.

"There's one more point of interest…we should cover…in our lesson," Tara explained. She shifted her fingers slightly and pressed into Willow's inner walls, bending them so that her fingertips remained in place throughout Willow's gyrations.

"G-spot!" she moaned, her hands reaching back to grab Tara's back and hold her to herself tightly.

"It…" Willow gasped, "it…god…makes…me…COME!" She let her head again fall back onto Tara's shoulder and screamed with pleasure as her body convulsed, holding Tara within her as her core pulsed and gushed a bounty of thick nectar over her fingers and hand. Tara moaned too, nuzzling her neck, kneading her breasts, moving her thumb to Willow's clit to draw from her another howl of joy, and another climax that crushed her fingers and bathed them in juices as Willow literally lifted off the couch, arching upwards in blind need to express the sensations bursting within her. She stayed there a moment, feet splayed on the ground, hands gripping Tara's waist behind her, the back of her head pressed into the crook of Tara's shoulder, and her body glistening with a sheen of sweat, muscles tightly bunched, held aloft in wanton pride. Then she collapsed back into Tara's embrace, breathing in great gasps as her body heaved and slowed, and Tara's hands became more and more gentle, finally stroking her with caresses as gentle as a feather, cupped over her breast and still sunk within her core, while Willow mumbled pleasurable nothings into her ear.

"You know what?" Tara said, as Willow began to gather her senses. "I think you're going to pass your exam with flying colors."

"I don't think there's any chance of that," Tara laughed. Her laughter subsided to a grin as she gazed at Willow. "Thank you," she said softly.

"What for?" Willow asked. "I mean, besides the obvious – 'cause in that case, the phrase 'the pleasure was mine' has never been better used." Tara chuckled.

"For letting me be in charge," she explained. "It felt good…I think, after yesterday, I needed it, just to remind myself. Actually, it felt great," she corrected herself with a grin.

"You know the key to learning is consistent study," Willow said seriously. "I think it'd be downright irresponsible of me, as a student, not to ask for regular classes with Miss Maclay. Any time she wants."

"That's very commendable," Tara nodded. She kissed Willow's neck, then let her lips part and licked from her shoulder up to beneath her ear. "In that case…do you suppose Miss Maclay's favorite student would like to demonstrate some of what she's just learned?"

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, heading east
Kitten One: Hypersonic Ministry Transport Aircraft
2130 Hours (GMT)

"Briefing incoming," the pilot of the super-jet announced over the cabin radio. Willow and Tara separated from each other's embrace and returned their seats to the upright position, just in time for the luxury passenger cabin's wall screen to activate.

"I'm sorry we didn't have time to brief you earlier," the Ministry commander continued. "We've had reports coming in from all the agents we could tap on this case, and we thought it best to get you girls en route while we compiled our information. We believe we're up against the clock on this one."

An image of Mr. McDonald appeared in a picture-in-picture to M's side, and was quickly replaced by a series of corporate hierarchy diagrams.

"Your captive has given us a break," M explained. "The support McDonald lent to Osbourne's operation was primarily in setting up smokescreen companies to conceal the extent of Mr. Osbourne's activities outside the purview of his own corporation. We've been able to dismantle some key camouflage on the corporate landscape and discern a lot more about what he's been up to."

The rolling diagrams of McDonald's companies vanished, replaced by a series of orbital photos of various landmarks: Versailles, the Coliseum, the Brandenburg Gate, the Millennium Dome, and others.

M continued her briefing: "Osbourne Industries has had remote public dealings with Centennial Construction, a specialist consultancy group involved in a lot of major construction and restoration projects in Europe. There's hardly a major landmark on the continent, new and old, that Centennial hasn't either worked on, or constructed new facilities to compliment. To the public eye, Osbourne's interest is merely diversifying his portfolio and reaping the returns of investment in a profitable firm."

"He is," M nodded. "Our new information suggests that Osbourne has been using Centennial's construction activities as a front to build infrastructure for his Panacea project. We've sent missions into several facilities already, and found data analysis complexes, computer centers and transmission control networks built into at least ten sites spread over six countries. Practically every major European data network, short of the Smut-Net itself, has been fatally compromised – in the event of a release of the Panacea virus, all defensive measures would be futile. There was even a rebroadcaster buried in a refurbished section of Buckingham Palace, and I suspect we're going to catch hell from the Queen when she hears about that in the morning briefing."

"We've got our best agents on the job," M replied, "but so far we're not confident that we can box Osbourne's virus in, in the event that he releases it. There are prototype versions of Panacea acting as watchdog programs in every site we've discovered – they make it impossible to trace the locations of other sites, we're lucky to be able to retrieve any data at all. It's a radically advanced program. That's why we're bringing you back to Europe."

"I'll be joining the hacking team?" Willow asked, her voice losing some of its enthusiasm. Tara discreetly took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Fred asked for you, but no," M shook her head. "We're keeping you two together. At present, our analysts still believe that our best course of action is to disrupt Osbourne's project, and prevent the release of the virus. Until we can find out how he plans to release it, we can't build a countermeasure strategy we're sure will work. You know Osbourne – it's essential that you continue to engage him directly." Willow nodded, and stroked her thumb over the back of Tara's hand.

"That's another reason we don't want you two working separately," M said. "Agent Queen Bunny is likely the most dangerous element of Osbourne's operation – not only for her abilities as an agent, but because the mere fact that she's working for him means our files on her are somehow woefully inaccurate. You know her better than any other field agent we have – you have the best chance of working out what her stake in this is, and finding a way to use that against Osbourne. And," she paused, and continued so somberly, "if worst comes to worst, you're intimately familiar with her fighting skills. If she needs to be taken down, no-one has a better chance."

"Understood," she replied. M and the other images vanished, replaced by an aerial image of a soaring road bridge.

"This is the Millau bridge," M's voice continued. "Centennial was involved in the logistics effort during construction. We have strong evidence to suggest that their activities on the site were far greater than publicly revealed, and we've devoted considerable effort to uncovering any scrap of information about this location. We believe there is a command and control facility beneath the town of Millau, put there during construction of the bridge's foundations and maintenance sites. It's likely to be heavily guarded. Our information points to a coolant conduit as your best means of ingress – it's disguised as part of a ventilation system that was installed a year earlier by another of Osbourne's shell companies in a clinic on the outskirts of the town."

The screen changed to a computer-generated image of a conduit leading from wireframe-rendered buildings on the surface down to a sketchy map of an underground complex.

"If we're right about the purpose of this conduit," M explained, "it'll be full of highly toxic coolant fluid. You'll have to be very careful not to cause a breach when you enter, so as not to endanger anyone on the surface. You'll find sealed wetsuits in Kitten One's storage compartments, they'll protect you for exactly one hour – longer than that, and our tests indicate a chance of a suit breach, which would be dangerous, if not fatal."

"So we'll be swimming through a very long, narrow tunnel filled with poisonous liquid?" Willow summed up.

"Just another day at the office," M nodded, reappearing. "One more thing: Osbourne's private transports are fitted with some kind of stealth technology we haven't yet been able to crack, but from what we've pulled together from secondary sources, we believe he, Queen Bunny, and this personal assistant of his, Harmony, flew to Europe a short time after you escaped them in California. Our analysts give a 60% chance of them being at the Millau facility." Willow and Tara nodded soberly.

"We've prepared an infiltration plan for the hospital, and technical briefings on the coolant conduit you'll be accessing," M continued. "But feel free to improvise however you see fit – you're the agents on the ground out there. Any equipment not already on board Kitten One can be shipped to your landing zone, the Ministry's full resources are at your disposal. Good luck, Bunnies."

There was a moment's contemplative silence, then, as one, the two agents reached for each other's hands and held them tightly.

"Pfft, I know that," Willow replied. Tara ducked her head in a bashful grin, then looked back up, into Willow's smile.

"…I'll be there for you," Willow finished. Tara nodded, with unshed tears in her eyes.

Willow, clad in very proper-looking doctor's attire, breezed past the receptionist in the clinic and spoke directly to the duty nurse. Tara sat patiently in the waiting area, enjoying the soft, light feel of the woolen pants and crop top her role called for, and watching Willow air her flawless French with confidence, explaining to the nurse that she and her patient had been delayed several hours due to horrendous traffic, but would nevertheless, in spite of the lateness of the hour, go through a routine check-up that had been scheduled for the afternoon, which she, Willow, was perfectly qualified to perform without requiring any assistance. Tara watched Willow flourish her credentials, and direct the nurse's attention to her appointment in the clinic's schedule database, both of which the Ministry had provided for them. The nurse gave an accepting shrug, and she and Willow fell into a brief, friendly discussion.

The door to the examination suites opened, and a doctor emerged, chatting with her patient and her partner as she handed her key card to the receptionist and checked out for the night. The patient, an elegant brunette who was just beginning to show signs of her pregnancy, caught Tara's eye in passing, glanced at her stomach, and gave a warm smile. Tara returned the gesture, patting her eight-months-pregnant belly contentedly as Willow returned to her.

"All good," the redhead whispered as she helped Tara to her feet and guided her towards the examination suites. "We've got the right room, and we won't be disturbed. You'll be getting a full check-up, so we've got plenty of time."

"Doctor knows best," Tara murmured in reply. Out of sight of the receptionist and the nurse, her hand on the small of Tara's back dropped momentarily to her bottom and gave a quick squeeze.

"Is that really proper doctor-patient behavior?" Tara asked with an arch smile as the door closed behind them.

"Just testing your reflexes," Willow grinned. "Salle deux, here we are." She held open the door to the examination suite for Tara.

"Hey, you're pregnant," Willow quipped. "Anything to help." She secured the door behind them and glanced around the room, which was clean, modern, and arranged around a padded chair with stirrups. Her eyes drifted to Tara, as the blonde leaned against the chair.

"You're sexy when you're expecting," Willow said, waggling an eyebrow for emphasis.

"I didn't say that," Willow pointed out. "Nevertheless, let's deliver your baby, shall we?"

"Do the honors" Tara offered, leaning back. She looked down at herself and patted her round stomach. "After all, you put this here."

"I'm so virile," Willow nodded. With one hand beneath Tara's stomach, she put her finger to the blonde's belly button and pushed firmly. There was a moment's resistance, then a click and a beep, and a seam appeared around the bulging stomach, where previously there had been only smooth skin.

"Congratulations, it's an equipment package," Willow said, lifting the false stomach off Tara. "Have you got a name picked out?"

"Atlas," Tara sighed, pulling free the straps concealed under her top, and beneath the waist of her pants. "So I don't forget how heavy that was. The access to the coolant conduit should be behind that wall," she added, pointing.

"Righty-o," Willow nodded, turning the faux stomach over and opening its underside. "What we need is one high-resolution ultrasonic probe, which should be right…here."

Tara put a hand over her mouth to stifle her chuckle as Willow held up an impressively-proportioned dildo, which at the press of a button sprouted a sonar transceiver from the tip.

"Hey, don't laugh," Willow shot back, trying to keep a straight face. "This was in you twenty seconds ago."

"Uh-huh," Tara giggled, "I had a fifteen-inch penis inside of me…That's quite out of character for me."

"I should hope so," Willow nodded, blushing furiously as she held the monster phallus against the wall. Data streamed across the screen built into its base.

"According to Anya's dream machine here," she read off, "the conduit is filled with A7-H coolant…We can't open it up until we've dealt with that, or we'll flood the room."

"Right," Willow nodded, dropping the dildo and prising a panel off the wall to reveal a metal surface behind it. "So, pop a reactive mix into the conduit, wait for it to crystallize…"

"Use a condensing reagent," Tara suggested. "It'll solidify the liquid down to a fraction of its usual volume, enough to clear out the conduit for us to get in. We can seal it back up from inside and cut out way through to the liquid lower down."

"It's a plan," Willow agreed, selecting from the equipment pack a fluid injector, which unfortunately looked like a novelty fake breast. She placed its nipple against the metal, fired it with a dull clang, and held it for a moment.

"And…hard seal," she nodded. "Okay, give it…forty minutes? Then we can go in. This panel will pop right off with a nudge from a vibratory spanner, no problem."

"No doubt there's plenty of things that vibrate in that pack," Tara said wryly. "So, say five minutes to get our wetsuits on…What shall we do for thirty-five minutes, all alone in here?"

"Don't you hate it when missions have these pauses, with no spy stuff to demand our attention?" Willow smiled.

"It's terribly tedious," Tara agreed, with a matching smile. She looked over her shoulder, then swung her legs onto the chair and leaned back.

"There is always the obvious option," she suggested, giving Willow a sidelong glance.

"What's that?" Willow asked, adorably grinning and frowning in confusion all at once. Tara raised an eyebrow at her, then lifted her legs into the chair's stirrups.

"We're in an examination room," she purred. "And those impressively realistic credentials I saw you showing off earlier do say you're a doctor…" The grin on Willow's face spread from bemused to cat-that-got-the-cream in the space of a heartbeat.

"Not at all," Tara said demurely. She lifted her hips to help Willow tug her pants down.

"Very nice," Willow nodded, gazing at the gauzy lace that didn't quite conceal Tara's sex. "I like your taste in lingerie."

"Mmm," Willow agreed, slowly drawing the thin lace down Tara's legs and, along with her pants and sneakers, pulling them over her feet and letting them fall to the floor.

"Detailed examination first," Willow said. "We'll see how you feel, and then decide what course of action is necessary."

Slowly, with her other hand resting, friendly and reassuring on Tara's shoulder, Willow let her fingers stroke down among the blonde's curls, and finally further down to sample her moist, soft labia.

"Mmm-hmm," she murmured thoughtfully. "Beautiful shape and texture…rather a lot of moisture though, isn't there?"

Tara took a deep breath as Willow's forefinger slid slowly into her, while her thumb continued to softly massage her lips.

"Indeed," Willow bit her lip in thought. "And do you know what causes it?" She slid her finger into Tara's channel firmly, burying it to the hilt, and began to stroke up and down inside her.

"Ah…yes," Tara nodded again, her chest rising and falling in deeper, more agitated breaths.

"I see," Willow mused, increasing her pace, wiggling her finger vigorously in its wet, hot embrace. "Well then…" With a teasing grin she withdrew, leaving Tara gasping.

"I prescribe orgasms," Willow said happily. "Whenever the symptoms reappear, as and when necessary."

"You sound…like Anya," Tara grinned, getting herself a little bit under control. "Would you assist in my treatment? Or, do I have to attend to myself?"

"My esteemed colleague Dr. Anya does have some good ideas," Willow offered sagely. Her eyes lit up at a thought, and she knelt down to rummage through the equipment pack.

"Just preparing to assist in your treatment," Willow said. "You could attend to yourself, of course, but it's always better to seek the help of a trained professional, don't you think?"

"I'll definitely do that," Tara smiled. Willow stood back up and reached beneath Tara's neck, stroking the back with her fingertips. In her other hand, she held up a pair of smooth metal balls.

"Oh," Tara nodded, her smile widening. "You want me to take two, and see you in the morning?"

"Why wait 'til morning?" Willow chuckled, lowering her hand between Tara's spread thighs. Tara gave a little twitch when Willow touched the cool metal to her lips, then sighed as the redhead delicately parted her folds and nudged the first sphere into her.

"Mmmm," Tara agreed. Willow withdrew her hand from behind Tara's neck and moved to stand between her splayed legs, her free hand stroking Tara's thigh as she nudged the second ball against her sex.

"I'll just perform a routine examination at this point," she explained. "No need for an impersonal probe, of course, when first-hand contact will work much better…" Tara murmured happily as Willow knelt down between her legs and inhaled the silky scent surrounding her core.

"Say 'ah'," she giggled, and leant forward to press her tongue to the bottom of Tara's sex, sneaking the tip inside to taste the source of the slickness coating her lips. Slowly, she drew her tongue flat against Tara's soft, hot labia, and licked up the length of her sex, finishing with a flourish on her clit.

"Good girl," Willow whispered approvingly. She placed a kiss on the second ben-wa ball, then used two fingertips to hold Tara's folds apart while she gently inserted it.

"Oh there's still a lot of procedures to follow," Willow assured her. "Remember, this is going to be a very thorough examination…"

"Good," Tara sighed happily. "I'm definitely…mmm," she moaned quietly as she shifted her hips and the spheres inside her slid smoothly around, "…definitely…in the mood…to be…thoroughly…" Sighs and moans overtook words, as her hips began moving in a rhythm all their own.

"Who said medicine can't taste good?" Willow smiled to herself, before taking another long lick at Tara's pouting sex just inches from her face. "Let me just slip into something more appropriate." She peeled off her jacket and undid her skirt, standing up to let it fall to the floor. Tara laughed, between deep gasps, at seeing Willow's remaining attire, a tight-fitting white nurse's dress with a zipper running up the front. With a tug Willow undid it far enough to reveal the perfectly formed cleavage within.

"Were you…thinking you might get…lucky with me?" Tara asked, as Willow leaned forward over her, holding her hips and adding to their rhythmic thrusting.

"I thought it…yeah…was only, patients, who…uhh…wore short dresses for easy access?"

"Why shouldn't doctors have some fun too?" Willow dipped her head down, pulled Tara's top up over her breasts, and licked at the soft mounds straining to escape her bra.

"I'm all your health care needs, in one convenient package," Willow murmured into her breasts.

"One lovely package," Tara breathed. Willow licked her way thoroughly down Tara's cleavage and onto her stomach, bathing her with long, firm strokes of her tongue. Tara's hands found their way to the back of Willow's head, her fingers winding among her hair.

"You're responding to your current treatment quite well," Willow joked as Tara moaned and arched off the chair. "How about upping the dosage?"

"Trust me," Willow grinned, slipping out of Tara's embrace, "I'm a doctor." She crouched and searched through the equipment pack for a moment, then returned to Tara's side.

"Ready for the healing hand?" she asked, holding up her hand to show off the thin, smooth sleeves over her index and middle fingers.

"I think it'll be more fun if you find out for yourself," Willow smiled deviously. "I should warn you, there will be side-effects."

"Thank you for fully informing mmm…me, before my treatment begins," Tara said seriously. She took a long look at Willow's scantily clad form. "I don't suppose you'd have anything that could cover my mouth, would you? It'd be a shame if someone came to investigate any excess moaning and interrupted us."

"It would be a shame," Willow agreed. "Lucky for you, I think I have just the thing." She grinned and lifted her dress, revealing white silk panties, with a large red cross emblazoned on the front.

"A first-aid kit," Tara noted hungrily, "how convenient. You think of everything."

"I never attend to a patient without it," Willow said, reclining the chair back and straddling it, facing back down Tara's slowly moving body as the blonde stared up from between her thighs.

"What should I do?" Tara asked innocently, stroking one hand over Willow's mound, while her other took a firm grip on her hip.

"Just open it up…" Willow murmured huskily, "and eat what's inside. It's good for you," she finished with a wink.

Tara's innocent smile turned predator in a heartbeat, and she wasted no time in wrapping her arms around Willow's thighs and pulling the redhead down onto her mouth. Willow giggled and wriggled her hips as Tara carefully took the fragile fabric of her panties in her teeth and pulled, tearing the crotch open to reveal her sex, already generously soaked. Pausing only to utter a muffled 'love you,' Tara held Willow firmly atop her face and sent her tongue questing deep inside.

"Ohhhh! Mmmm," Willow moaned, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle her initial outburst. Gaining a little control she removed her hand long enough to touch the sleeves on her fingers, tapping on each a tiny stud at its base, on top of her knuckle. With an almost inaudible whirr her fingers began vibrating. An anticipatory grin spread over Willow's face, and she experimentally touched a fingertip to her nipple, already poking prominently through the thin material of her dress.

"God!" she exclaimed, forcing her voice down to a whisper. "Oh baby, you are going to love this…" Leaning forward, keeping her core grinding against Tara's eager mouth, she rested one hand on the blonde's thigh, and brought the other with its two sleeved fingers near her sopping sex.

Tara jerked the moment Willow's fingers touched her labia, and gave a long, throaty moan into her sex. Willow toyed with her soft inner lips, taking one and then the other between her fingertips, sliding up and down their length, as all the while the finger- sleeves sent frantic vibrations into the blonde's heaving body.

Willow, feeling light-headed from Tara's now-erratic but still vigorous exploration of her core, played her fingertips all around Tara's sex, up and down the insides of her thighs, along her lips, all over her mound, delighting in the desperate, uncontrolled thrusts and shudders she drew from her lover. She forced herself to curtail her teasing, as she felt her own climax straining to gush free from within, and dipped her forefinger between Tara's lips to stroke her entrance, pressing gently against the yielding opening. Between her legs, Tara groaned loudly into her sex.

Willow leant back for a moment, savoring the sight of Tara as she was, totally devoted to their lovemaking. Her face buried between Willow's thighs, eagerly seeking the release which Willow knew she could not hold off much longer; her ample breasts, still encased in her bra, shuddering as she took great gasps of air in between thrusting her tongue as far as she could into Willow's depths, her body writhing, legs trembling, her sex glistening with arousal, her lips pouting open as she pushed against Willow's fingertip on her channel's mouth, trying to enfold it completely. Willow swallowed a moan, and knew it was time.

She lifted herself off Tara's mouth a fraction, not without difficulty as Tara held her thighs firmly. Willow looked down at Tara, between her nectar-soaked thighs, saw her deep blue eyes staring back at her, needful and giving, in a face gleaming with Willow's juices.

"Wanna lose control?" Willow whispered. Tara's eyes widened, then she nodded quickly.

"It's alright, I've got you," Willow promised, lowering her hips again. Tara's tongue was already outstretched, so that Willow felt her slide within as she settled once more on her lover, and leaned forward to lie on top of her, resting her open lips around Tara's clit, not yet licking or sucking, simply enclosing her. She withdrew the single finger tantalizing Tara's entrance, and curled it and her middle finger into her palm, feeling their vibrations run through her hand. She pointed her ring and little fingers instead and, without warning, thrust them into Tara to the hilt.

Tara's body accepted the intrusion without reserve, thrusting back to meet Willow the moment she felt her fingertips enter. Willow fucked Tara vigorously, thrusting her fingers into her again and again, jostling the spheres nestled inside her, ignoring the ache in her wrist. Her whole being focused, shutting out everything but a circular path of sensation that ran through herself and Tara, joining them at Tara's tongue inside her, and her fingers inside Tara. Willow's body sank into the sensation, guzzling pleasure like an animal, while her mind floated, slightly detached from events, wrapped tight in the idea of herself and Tara uniting, their souls flowing through both their bodies, forgetting which was which.

The first shudder of climax brought her mind back to the task before her, and she breathed in a lungful of Tara-scented air, thrusting one last time, deep, curling her fingertips to press against Tara's g-spot, breaking the wall of self-restraint that was holding Tara's climax barely in check. She felt Tara spasm beneath her, muscles clenching, her body heaving up off the chair, lifting on her legs and shoulders, carrying Willow stop her. Her sex pulsed, engorged with feeling, drew taut in preparation for the next heartbeat's release – and then, Willow withdrew, straightened instead her two vibrating fingers, and thrust them firmly into Tara's core, thudding into her target, the vulnerable, sensitive spot within her, with surgical precision.

Tara lost control, utterly. Willow knew, not by experience but simply by instinct, what her lover was feeling – trapped in her own body, unable to command it, a prisoner in a cage of gilded flesh that was being tossed on a stormy sea, exploding in climax. Tara was lost, without anything to guide her save her trust in Willow. Her fingers clawed into Willow's hips, scratching her, and Willow came into a mouth helplessly open, around a tongue moving randomly inside her, and Tara felt herself swallowing her lover's nectar without trying to. Her own sex was almost painful, almost more than her body could feel – it was as if her heart had opened up and was pumping her life out of her, but it was clear, sweet juice that Willow's lips tasted as she spread her mouth wide, touching the base of her fingers as she enclosed Tara's sex and tongued her clit for all she was worth.

It seemed endless for Tara – not multiple orgasms, but one, stretching on infinitely, pumping narcotic pleasure through her veins as long as Willow held her fingers inside her. Points of reference slipped away from the blonde as her body continued to surge, leaving her defenseless and disoriented – it should have been terrifying, but the trust she had in Willow made it exhilarating instead. In the moment before she lost all comprehension, she felt what Willow had imagined – both their climaxes circling through them, the juice flooding into Willow's mouth, passing through her body, flowing from her sex back into Tara's eager mouth, and in turn through her.

Still trembling with the aftershocks of her own orgasm, Willow slowly withdrew her fingers from Tara, snagging the balls' cord and pulling them free at the same time. She tenderly lapped at Tara's weary folds, as her body continued to shake and yield sweetness. Willow used her tongue lightly, with infinite care and grace, soothing the blissfully tortured softness before her until Tara relaxed, her body settling limply onto the chair. Finding the strength to move she lifted her hips, feeling Tara's hands clutch feebly, then slip and fall away, and turned herself around, facing the spent blonde. Tara's eyes were closed, and her mouth hung open, coated inside and out with Willow's juices.

"Hey," the redhead whispered, stroking a stray hair from Tara's sweat-covered brow. She stirred, and her eyes flickered open.

"H-hey," Tara murmured, her voice trembling. "A-am I…still coming?" Willow chuckled softly.

"There aren't words for how okay I am," Tara smiled. "I feel like…" she trailed off, searching. "Like you and me, us, got mixed…We turned liquid and poured together and flowed into each other, and…and now we're full of each other."

"Um, so," Willow continued, looking sheepish, "you're not too worn out, are you? For the mission, I mean? I didn't mean to get quite that intense-" Tara put a hand to her lips, silencing her, and glanced at her watch.

"We've still got ten minutes before wetsuit-time," she said. "In five minutes, you'll be in this chair, naked, I'll be between your legs drinking more Willow-juice than you ever believed your body could produce, and I'm not going to stop until the very instant we have to get ready." She raised an eyebrow at Willow's shocked, eager smile. "If that's okay with you?"

Millau, Massif Central, France
Underground Lair, Coolant Conduit
0100 Hours (local time)

Agents Shy Bunny and Adorabunny, safely enclosed in sealed wetsuits and helmets, swam steadily down through the blue-tinged coolant. Tara, in the lead, was busily taking ultrasonic readings of the conduit walls every few meters, while Willow, swimming behind her, was mainly concerned with how good Tara's ass looked in her silver wetsuit.

"Got something," Tara said, her voice being relayed through the helmet's point-to- point radio to Willow. "I think there's an airlock – well, fluid lock I suppose, behind this panel, we should be able to get out."

"Need a spanner?" Willow offered, reaching for her equipment belt. There was a muffled clang.

"No, I've got it," Tara replied, pulling the side of the conduit open. There was momentary rush of liquid as the empty lock beyond filled with coolant, then everything was still again.

"There's room for us both," Tara said, sliding her legs into the fluid lock chamber and reaching up to help Willow maneuver in the confined space of the conduit.

"It's just as well we like cuddling," Willow quipped, as she slid in beside Tara and pulled the hatch closed above herself. "Otherwise we'd have to get through this one at a time, and that'd be inefficient, you know?"

"Cuddling is very efficient," Tara agreed seriously. Willow saw the humor dancing in her eyes, through the transparent faceplate of her helmet.

They held onto each other as the fluid lock cycled, opening vents above them to admit a rush of icy-cold water, while the coolant seeped out from more vents below. In the space of a minute the vents closed, and they were immersed only in water. A funnel opened in the side walls of the lock chamber and drained the water.

"The alarm on this is just a hardware job," Willow said, reaching awkwardly down between her and Tara's feet to clamp a hotwire pack to the outer door. She fiddled with its controls for a moment, adjusting it to the alarm system it was tapping into. "No…problem…at…all!"

The door swung silently open, allowing Willow to crawl feet-first into the room beyond. Tara followed her, and they removed their helmets and drew tranquillizer pistols.

"Now we find Osbourne," Tara said, with quiet determination. She started forward, but then a blaze of crimson light filled the room, and Willow lunged to catch her and keep her from stumbling in surprise. Tara stared down at a thin, deadly laser beam that had appeared directly in front of her.

The two agents looked around carefully, finding their way blocked by dozens of beams – a cage. As one they looked up when a speaker crackled to life.

"Don't bother," Cordelia's voice echoed around the room. "I'll be happy to bring you to him."

"This…isn't so good," Willow said thoughtfully, dangling from a pair of electromagnetic restraints over the evil animal pit.

"It's actually quite good for your back," Tara noted, dangling alongside Willow. "I heard Codename Hands recommended one good suspension-over-death-pit every three months when he revised the Ministry's physiotherapy schedule."

"Quiet you two!" Harmony said, in what was probably meant to be a bark but came out more as a yap.

"Or what?" Willow shot back. "You'll string us up over a different death pit?" Harmony opened her mouth to reply, the paused in confusion.

"Don't get smart," Cordelia said, in a bored tone, from where she was reclining on the conference table adding minute highlights to her nail polish. "You know it's not fair on her."

"Hey!" Harmony rounded on her. "I designed this whole place single-handedly, let me remind you!"

"And if I hadn't installed some extra laser traps," Cordelia calmly replied, "Cathy Gale and Emma Peel here would've probably reduced it to rubble by now."

"Well they haven't," Harmony said smugly, as the logical flaw in her argument eluded her. "They're up there waiting to be dropped into the platypus pit, so there!"

"Whatever!" Harmony shouted. "Okay, you know what? You!" She pointed to one of the body armored minions lining the control room. "Go get me a dictionary!"

"Girls," Daniel interrupted, appearing on the encircling balcony, "let's not fight…" His face hardened as he glanced at the two captive agents. "Cordelia, why didn't you tell me Willow was one of the intruders?"

"Who'd you think they'd be?" Cordelia shrugged. Daniel glared at her, then slowly made his way around the balcony ramp.

"Willow, I'm sorry you're here," he said stoically. "Believe it or not, I'd really rather you stayed out of harm's way. Still, que sera, sera."

"Do we know a Sarah?" Harmony asked, earning a light swat on the back of the head from Cordelia. "Ow! Hey!"

"Focus," the former agent said, taking a seat. "Look villainous, and let Daniel do the evil speechifying."

"Thank you," Daniel nodded, turning back to Willow and Tara as he reached the main floor. "You'll find this interesting, I'm sure." He gave a smirk, then drew a remote control from his pocket and aimed it at the conference table. The table split in two, narrowly missing Harmony as its two halves tilted over and slid into the floor. In its place was a wide shaft, from which emerged a sleek computer, all brushed chrome and gunmetal-grey accents, with banks of status lights glittering along its sides. Two spindly antennae folded out of its top as it rose to its full height, creating an intricate web of electrical discharges between them.

"What's that?" Tara asked Willow quietly. "Apart from 'War Games' mark two, I mean."

"This is PRUDE," Daniel replied, overhearing her. "Panacea Reactive Universal Defense Environment. Seeing as you're going to die shortly, you might as well know." Behind him, Cordelia heaved an exasperated sigh.

"The Frankenstein's laboratory thing is a plasma matrix," Willow explained quickly. "It's a kind of hyper-storage – that's what, ten, fifteen trillion gigabytes?"

"Closer to twenty," Daniel said smugly. "Panacea is a massive program – a plasma matrix is the only portable containment system for the decompressed, uncompiled raw code. We've had it running self-defense scenarios for months in hyper-mainframes like this, developing responses to every possible attack." He pressed another button on the remote, and the lightning-generating rods slid against each other and folded along their length twice, becoming a single piece of hardware scarcely larger than a mobile phone. Daniel reached up and disconnected it from the huge support computer.

"And now it's ready," he said. "This one device contains the final, active Panacea program. Ready to transmit. From the point of transmission it'll spread like a virus – but then, it gets interesting. The system kernels, spread over a billion separate infected CPUs, will create and maintain links with each other, becoming a single, vast neural network. A learning intelligence, with all the world's computing power at its disposal. Your Ministry – the whole world – has no way at all of eliminating such a network."

"That's…" Willow began, stunned. "I mean, the power, the capabilities of a program like that…" Her amazed face hardened into a frown. "How could you create something like this, and then use it for evil?"

"Me," she said proudly. Willow had a coughing fit, while Daniel looked embarrassed and annoyed at once, and Cordelia watched with amusement.

"What are you?" Willow asked, once she had recovered. "Some kind of idiot savant?"

"She really created the program?" Willow asked Daniel, incredulous. He glared at Harmony, then gave a sheepish nod.

"Your master plan relies on Harmony!" Willow managed to giggle between bouts of outright uncontrolled laughter.

"She's got you there," Cordelia added helpfully, earning another glare from Daniel.

"Dammit!" Harmony protested, grabbing the assault rifle leaning on the back of Cordelia's chair and waving it at the two agents. "Shut up or I'll fill you full of lead!"

"Harmony!" Daniel warned. "We've got a perfectly good automated execution method for them."

"Plus the safety's on," Cordelia pointed out. "And that's a tank buster, so it'd be depleted uranium, not lead."

"Ah!" Harmony shrieked, tossing the gun away. "You want me to catch Gulf Air syndrome?"

"Gulf War," Cordelia grumbled as she retrieved her rifle. "And this is way more advanced, it's safe. Not for whoever's in the tank you shoot at, of course, but-"

"Well just keep it away from me," Harmony interrupted. "I'm not comfortable with weapons that violate major arms treaties."

"Exactly what kind of supervillain is it you want to be, again?" Cordelia asked.

"I'm just saying!" Harmony glared. "You've probably got anti-personnel landmines around here somewhere…"

"Gimme that," Cordelia snapped, grabbing a book from the hands of a returning minion. "See that access shaft over there?" She tossed the book down it, ducking as it exploded on landing.

"Did you really think a tank would've come down that shaft?" Cordelia went on. "It's one foot wide, Harmony!"

"Well duh, I had the mines retuned so they'd go off if a person stepped on them, but they're still anti-tank mines – and, that was my dictionary! How are we supposed to look up platypussies now? You!" she pointed at another minion. "Go get me another dictionary."

"You do and your family will be getting a 'we-regret-to-inform-you' letter from the Minions' Union," Cordelia warned, aiming her anti-tank rifle at him.

"Dictionary!" Harmony demanded. Cordelia responded by firing a shot over the minion's shoulder, decimating a programming suite behind him.

"Would you two please stop destroying my lair!" Daniel finally shouted, losing his cool at last.

"Do you want me to get him boasting about the program again?" Tara whispered to Willow, while no-one was paying attention to them. She shook her head in reply.

"I don't think he'll tell us anything else useful," she muttered. "What about Cordelia?"

"Not now," Tara replied quietly. "She's auto-bickering – she used to do it with Anya all the time. She won't be responsive – if she ever will be – until she's alone."

"What do you think?" Willow asked. "Try to get her to hang back when Daniel and Harmony leave?"

"Might be our best shot," Tara nodded. Daniel coughed to get their attention, with Cordelia and Harmony momentarily quelled by his uncharacteristic outburst.

"I'm afraid we'll have to leave you two here," he said, his composure back in place. "I'd say enjoy your stay, but…that's unlikely. Willow, I'm sorry you got mixed up in all this. Actually, our 'difficulties' all those years ago were the inspiration behind my scheme. It's a pity you won't be around to benefit from it."

"Daniel, you're so right," Willow nodded. "Except for one crucial aspect, which is the…Tara, what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Thanks," Willow gave her a quick smile, before returning her attention to Daniel. "See, she understands me. You, on the other hand, you know what your whole problem was?"

"And yet, here's me discussing it," Willow retorted brightly. "I appreciate how hands- off and patient you were in the beginning, really. Very much not the typical adolescent male."

"I know," Willow agreed. "But you didn't respect who I became. You wanted me to stay the shy, insecure, introverted girl forever, and no-one stays the same forever."

"I grew up, Daniel," Willow said patiently. "I grew up, and I started thinking, well, maybe some of the things I was always too nervous to try, maybe I should give them a go, now that I'm old enough to know what I'm doing. I found out wild doesn't have to equal spaz."

"What do you call it?" Willow shot back. "You were so proud of yourself for being the patient, no-pressure boyfriend that you never wanted it to stop. So even when you wanted to explore, you couldn't – not with me, not with sweet, innocent Willow, even though I wanted to! No, you got yourself all tangled up in denial, and ended up doing the nasty with some convenient floozy while my back was turned. And now, what's all this? You decided it's not your fault, it's everyone else? It's sexy movies and TV and video games that forced you to cheat on me?"

"They're not natural!" Daniel raised his voice, slightly. "They should be controlled, so they don't interfere with people's lives-"

"Oh, won't somebody please think of the children!" Willow mocked. "What, did somebody hold a gun to your head and make you buy those magazines you hid under the bed? You actually wanted to buy a Disney movie, but some unscrupulous sales assistant swapped it for the DVD you hid in the blank case behind the TV? Incidentally, her breasts were so fake."

"You've obviously become too enamored of all this…filth, to understand." Daniel shook his head. "I'm going to make the world better."

"Try making yourself better," Willow glared, "before you start making everyone else's choices for them."

"This is pointless," Daniel said, turning away. "There is one choice I'm certainly able to make for you – whether or not you ever leave here."

"Is this the pre-execution speech?" Harmony piped up. "Ooh, can I do it? Please?" Cordelia crossed to Daniel and stood beside him.

"Let her," she whispered. "It'll keep her out of the way while we get ready to go."

"Glee!" Harmony said to herself, clapping her hands. She took off her long coat, strode in front of the two restrained agents, and took a deep breath, hands on hips, to begin.

"I suppose-" she managed, before Willow and Tara both burst out laughing. "What?"

"Did you forget to put something on?" Tara added. Harmony opened her mouth to reply, paused, looked down to check her attire, then glared at both of them.

"I don't want to sound judgmental, Harm," Willow said, "but what you've got there really doesn't say 'villain' so much as 'free ride'."

"Which isn't 'advertising our availability to any nearby sporting teams'," Willow added snidely.

"I suppose," Harmony began again, loudly, glaring at Willow, "you're wondering what fiendish means of execution will be responsible for…" she searched for a word, "…executing, you two."

"Oh, don't misunderestimate the common platypus," Harmony laughed villainously, or near enough. She had to pause a moment, to adjust her outfit in order to keep her left boob from making an impromptu appearance, then continued:

"You're about to meet the newest member of our villainous team," she gloated. "Platypussy Galore. I'm afraid your pleas for mercy will fall on deaf ears…whatever platypussies have for ears…what?"

"She's my evil pet, I get to choose her name!" Harmony shouted. "And if you don't like it, I'll…well you're about to die anyway, so shut up!"

"Right," Harmony nodded. "In just five minutes, you…wait, are you mocking me?"

"Yes, they're mocking you," Cordelia said without looking up from her laptop. "Huh, 'platypuses'…what do you know."

"In just a few minutes," Harmony rounded on Willow and Tara, "the pit beneath you will open, and you'll be lowered in to your waists. At the same time, a tunnel will open allowing Platypussy Galore into the pit with you."

"I see step one and step three," Willow said critically. "Step two seems to be missing."

"Oh pipe down Harm," Cordelia offered. "I told you before, it wasn't going to kill them just because they didn't know it couldn't."

"Yeah," the blonde grumbled. "They don't appreciate a good execution speech anyway!"

"Go, I'll take care of it," Cordelia offered. Daniel gave her a stern glare, then followed Harmony, while Cordelia got to her feet and gave Willow and Tara a glance.

"Those cuffs are electromagnetic," she said idly. "There's no way you can force them open, and the controls are locked off. Don't let Harm's performance fool you – you're not going anywhere."

"Me villain, you heroes," she said with a shrug. "Me trying to dispose of you is a pretty logical follow-through from that, don't you think?"

"You know what I meant," Tara said accusingly. "Osbourne and his anti-smut scheme…damn it Cordy, you love smut! You practically wrote the book on exhibitionistic espionage, there wasn't a single one of Anya's toys you didn't at least take for a test run…after we saved Mardi Gras from Glorificus and her mad monks, I had to physically drag you out that nightclub after the fifth day of celebrations – and you'd lost your clothes on the second."

"How can you do this?" Tara pleaded. "How can you side with Osbourne, against everything you love?" Cordelia nodded, then leaned close to Tara.

"You're right, it's not about him, or his crusade," she whispered. "It's about one thing: I'm better than you." She glared for a moment, then shot a glance at Willow.

"All of you," she said. "I'm the best." Collecting her laptop and rifle, she headed for the main door, turning back on the threshold.

"Oh, and just in case Harmony's precious pet somehow fails to do the job," she added airily, "I'll be setting the self-destruct when I leave. So you girls have about…fourteen minutes before this complex and everything in it flash-heats to about twelve hundred degrees." She blew a kiss at Willow and Tara.

"I don't get it," Tara frowned. "She was never one of those agents who has to be better than everyone else. I mean, she was better than everyone else – since M got promoted out of field duty, anyway – but she never made an issue of it."

"Poor Cordy," Tara muttered. "I don't know…Something's twisting her up, but I just don't know what, or why…" She looked up at the magnetic restraints encasing her wrists.

"I've got a magnetic pulse generator in my suit, around belt-buckle level," Tara said thoughtfully. "If I can flip up between these cuffs and do the proper sequence of moves, I might be able to demagnetize them. Then find the controls, unlock them – I'll probably need you to talk me through that – get you down, and find a way to break out of here before the whole place becomes one big oven." She gave Willow a glance. "You?"

"I've got the remote control for the car," Willow offered. "I could just have it blast its way in here, then one good zap from the ion cannon will short out these cuffs, and we drive out again." Tara chuckled.

"Extra incentive for you to keep me," Willow grinned. Tara was about to respond, but a thought struck her.

"The, uh," Willow blushed. "The hands-free…attachment…I put a transceiver in it, and rigged it for remote activation."

"The…insertable…control?" Tara asked. Willow reddened and nodded. "So," Tara continued, "you've got that…um…in situ?"

"Uh-huh," Willow nodded again. "It seemed, you know, a good idea – back-up plan, just in case, you know, what with the high the capture-and-put-in-death-trap rates on operations like this…so I…yeah…" She trailed off, then gave a sheepish shrug. "It's actually pretty comfortable, once it warms up."

"Yeah, well…" Willow prevaricated, "…various sounds of hesitation…" Tara winked and blew her a kiss.

"Oh, when you were putting on your wetsuit," Willow chuckled. "After you'd got the main layer on, and the eye candy was over…"

"It'll be a lot easier to control if you can use your magnet thingy to hold it in place," Willow said. "So, I'll just…could you hold still for a moment?"

She swung her legs back, then forward, and started herself moving. After a few swings she was high enough to reach out with her legs and encircle Tara's waist, bringing herself snugly up against her fellow agent and holding on, with her ankles crossed behind Tara's back.

Tara turned her head sideways and bit one of her suit's seemingly-innocuous contour lines running along her arm. There was an answering hum from the level of her waist, and Willow trembled.

"Fine," Willow said quickly. "No problemo at all…it just moved a little…I think it's securely fixed now, so you hold still…I'll drive. Okay, three squeezes to start the engine…"

Tara felt Willow's legs tense as she used her muscles on the control inside her. Willow's eyes seemed to glow for an instant, then the contacts she wore clouded over and gave her a stereoscopic view of the road in the town up above, where they had parked the Aston Martin Vanquish.

"In…gear," Willow gasped, wriggling her hips against Tara, "and…" she gave a hearty thrust, "go! Hard right!" She jerked herself sideways and gasped.

"Yeah!" Willow panted. "Yeah, fine! It's just…oncoming traffic!" She thrust left and right, then rocked her hips forward against Tara's waist. "Uhhhh…just…it's got feedback…you know, road-sensing?"

"Distracting!" Willow warned playfully. "Okay, now…rockets!" She grunted and heaved her body against Tara, and there was a distant, muffled explosion from beyond the sealed doors.

"You're not…the only one…getting feedback…" Tara gasped as Willow slid back and forth against her, gripping her tightly with her legs. "That waist panel you're…magnetized to…reaches down just far enough…"

"You want…me to drive…slower?" Willow asked, her cheeks flushing as she gave a series of thrusts. From outside, nearer this time, there was the staccato rattle of an automatic railgun, and Willow gave a delighted shudder.

"Those railguns have a hell of a kick," Willow agreed. "I'm in the corridors…lots of tight turns, hold tight…"

Tara kicked her legs up and managed, with a considerable feat of flexibility, to get her ankles around Willow's sides.

"Ohhhhh yeah baby!" Willow shouted lustily, as Tara used her newly-gained leverage to push her waist against Willow's crotch. Willow rocked side to side unevenly, thrusting up and down at the same time, clenching and releasing her muscles now and then, to the accompaniment of various sounds of destruction from outside.

"Okay…" she panted, her chest heaving in its wetsuit, which did nothing to conceal her curves. "Coming up on the main doors…uh! Uh-uh-uh-uh!"

"Speed bumps!" Willow said desperately. "Oh god! That was not 'traffic calming'! Ready now…oh baby I'm so ready…"

"Here it comes baby!" Willow moaned, squeezing and thrusting against Tara with all her might. The doors to the control room exploded inwards, and the agents' Aston Martin rolled in, its paintwork scratched on the sides, but otherwise intact. A panel in the car's bonnet retracted, and a curious, high-tech weapon emerged and gave off a brief hum. Willow and Tara's cuffs sprang open, and Tara managed to get her feet beneath herself just in time to catch Willow, who was in no condition to control her own landing. They sprawled, safe if undignified, among the imitation plants in the platypus's habitat.

"Okay," Willow gasped, "now just the platypus to deal with…" She and Tara looked sideways, to see Platypussy Galore staring at them in bemused curiosity.

"I don't think Platypussy's a problem," Tara said, arranging her legs to find purchase on the sand beneath them, "but unless I'm mistaken, you didn't quite get to the end of your 'drive in the country' there." She wrapped her arms around Willow, cradling her head with one hand while the other supported her back, and thrust hard between her legs.

"Uh- Yes!" Willow shrieked, as the car revved noisily, and Tara thrust sensually against her. Her climax was swift in coming, almost before Tara had had time to settle into a rhythm she screamed: "Yes! Oh…god yes!"

Tara nuzzled her neck adoringly as she gasped, then leaned back and gazed down at her, admiring her flushed beauty. Willow lifted a shaking hand to stroke Tara's cheek. "Mmm, baby…"

"Magnet off," Tara murmured, touching the contour on her suit's arm. Willow lifted her head up and pressed a kiss to Tara's cheek, then moved to capture her lips in a second, far steamier kiss.

"I'll drive," Willow grinned. Tara nodded, and helped Willow stand up and brush the sand off herself.

"Oh," she said to herself. As Willow jumped for the edge of the ersatz death-pit, Tara caught Platypussy Galore around the middle, and carefully handed her up.

"You never know," Tara replied with a smile, accepting Willow's hand as she pulled herself out of the pit. "She might be redeemable."

About half a mile from the outskirts of the town of Millau, an unassuming haystack remained spread open one side, revealing itself to be camouflage over a steel-lined ramp leading underground. Within, further down the tunnel, sirens were blaring, hazard lights were flashing, and a massive blast door was slowly descending.

At seemingly the last moment, racing ahead of a wall of flame, Willow and Tara's Aston Martin roared into view and emerged from the ramp at such speed that it flew for several meters before thudding down onto the grass and swerving towards a nearby road. The blast door slammed shut just in time to contain the firestorm behind itself, and the haystack whirred closed.

"I'm contacting the Ministry," Tara said from the passenger's seat, activating a communications console in the glove compartment. Willow nodded, and devoted her attention to negotiating the unlit field. In the back seat, Platypussy Galore curled up for a nap.

"It is boosted," Tara replied. "The only way we could be being jammed is…at close range…" Suddenly a siren blared through the vehicle.

"Missile lock!" Willow warned, thumbing a control on the steering wheel. Panels on the car's radiator slid aside to reveal banks of missile, two of which streaked out ahead, curved over each other, and shot back on either side of the Aston Martin to collide and detonate in mid-air with a pair of larger missiles roaring towards them. As Willow swerved on to the road, Cordelia's Lamborghini Diablo shot out of the shadow of a barn and pursued them.

"You didn't really think I'd assume that death trap would work, did you?" the former Bunny taunted over the radio. Willow and Tara exchanged a worried glance.

"That's not what it looked like off Long Beach," Tara said quickly. Willow gave her a surprised glance, and she added, lowering her voice: "She always had a bit of a temper, when the villains got to taunting her. Hardly my specialty, but anything that gives us an advantage…"

"If it weren't so trite, I'd say you'll pay for that," Cordelia snarled. "Think about this, though: you've only got eight target-seekers left, and after that, you're all out of weapons that can fire backwards. And I've got a lot more than eight shots in this baby."

"She's right," Willow said quietly, glancing worriedly in the rear view mirror at the Diablo, which was proving impossible to out-distance now they were both on the winding country road. "Sedans are always built for frontal assault – they're not so good at, uh, backal assault, or whatever…"

"I'll give you five seconds to give up. If you're nice, I won't tell Danny boy I found you, I'll just hogtie you together until we win. Hey, you might like it! Tara, didn't I always say you needed to rope yourself a hot girl?"

"There'll be civilians around," Willow warned. "Do you think she'd risk them to hit us?"

"Right now I'm not sure of anything about her," Tara frowned. A roadsign showing a bridge flashed past.

"Willow?" Tara asked. "The bridge – it's a straight line, there's nothing to keep her from hitting us."

"This thing can take a few dents," Willow said confidently. "And a piece of straight road is just what I need right now!"

The bridge stretched more than two kilometers, there hundred meters above the ground. Tiny specks compared to its majestic span, the two vehicles roared onto the bridge, flashes of fire lighting their path as the Aston Martin's target-seeker missiles intercepted and detonated each salvo of heat seeking missiles from Cordelia's Diablo. Tinier flecks of light marked the ricochets of autocannon shells off the Ministry vehicle's armored rear.

"Amateur mistake," she chuckled to herself, ramming the gear shift forward and pressing a button on top of the stick. "Bad move Tare, should've picked a better driver." A large panel opened on the back of the Lamborghini, revealing a pair of jet engines which roared to life and sent the car hurtling forwards.

"Willow," Tara said worriedly, glancing back through the bulletproof rear windshield, seeing the Diablo closing on them.

"Then she doesn't know about the ion cannon – even if she's got a scanner, she won't see it until it powers up." She glanced in the mirror. "Come on, use your AI missiles…what's she waiting for?"

There was a flash behind them, then a crack as something hit the back of the car. The tires squealed as they slowed, and Tara looked back to see a cable leashing them to Cordelia's car.

Four plumes of fire leapt from the Diablo – four computer-guided missiles launching from its side bays, weaving out and then turning in mid-air and converging on the captive Aston Martin. At the last moment Willow ran her fingers down a bank of controls on the steering column, and spun the wheel sharply. The car's brakes locked, spinning it around, a razor-sharp buzz-saw slid from beneath the passenger side door and severed the restraining cable, and the ion cannon emerged from the bonnet and pulsed, detonating the incoming missiles as their on-board computers fried and triggered their self-destruct.

"My turn," Willow said, staring at the oncoming Lamborghini. A massive bank of forward-firing rockets lifted up from the car's boot and let fly, filling the air with flaming exhausts and smoke trails.

Just in time the roof of the Diablo blasted off, allowing Cordelia's seat to fly clear on an escape rocket as the car was blasted to pieces beneath her. The flaming wreck screeched across the bridge and smashed through its guard rails, hurtling off into the night and erupting into a fireball in mid-air.

Cordelia, now several hundred meters above the bridge, watched the car destroy itself, as her seat sprouted wings and stabilizer fins.

"She's out of the arc of the railguns," Willow noted, watching the glider as it swept away into the night sky.

"Good," Willow nodded, "they need to know what we know about Daniel's program. I'll find somewhere secluded to park."

"…and he said 'point of transmission'," Willow finished explaining to Agent Hidden Bunny, Fred's field director of statistical analysis, on the car's communications suite, "so my guess is that he intends to use a single transmitter to broadcast the Panacea kernels to all the receptive sites those substations you've been finding are opening up."

"That'd be my guess too," the agent agreed on the monitor. "We've stepped up search-and-destroy operations, but unless Osbourne is planning to sit on his behind for a couple of weeks, we're not going to be able to shut down the vulnerabilities he's created in the world's data networks in time. We'll…hang on, incoming from M…She's skimmed your report, she says good work, report to the nearest safehouse, and wait for your assignment."

"Uh…thanks…I mean, thank her, from us," Willow replied, quite distracted by Tara, in the driver's seat and out of view of the monitor, wriggling out of her wetsuit. With a considerable effort, Willow fixed her attention back on the screen.

"We're running shifts around the clock," Hidden Bunny nodded. "Minimal rest for critical personnel. Enjoy the down time until your orders come in, she finished with a wry smirk.

"We definitely will," Tara agreed. Willow turned to see her stretched out on the reclined seat, head propped up on one arm, wetsuit draped over herself in a not at all concealing fashion, and one leg thrust provocatively out over the gear shift console.

"What about her?" Willow asked, confused. She cast a glance at Platypussy Galore, who remained curled up and contentedly asleep on the back seat. Her eyes shot back to Tara's as the blonde stretched her leg across the car's centre console and trailed her foot up Willow's thigh to her crotch.

"Oh…oh!" Willow nodded, wide-eyed. "Well it was really just a spur-of-the-moment thing…and besides," she added, suddenly assuming a lascivious grin, "I was worried you might accidentally trigger the vibro-feedback test mode…using the diagnostic control in the steering column, just below the indicator arm in a little safe compartment, combination 2-5-1."

"Oh look," Tara smiled lazily, retrieving the diagnostic control – a slim palm-sized gadget – from the steering column, and pretending to be oblivious to her toes wriggling their way between Willow's thighs.

"See, that's exactly…what I mean," Willow agreed, spreading her legs a fraction to allow Tara a little more access. "It's so easy to stumble across…and switch into test mode, by pushing the two green buttons, then keying in T-T-zero-D-zero…"

"You're right," Tara nodded solemnly, keying the combination into the gadget's tiny control pad. "See how easy that was…"

"And then, the merest noise would make the car remote generate vibrations," Willow pointed out. Tara widened her eyes, feigning academic interest in this tidbit of knowledge, then held the gadget to her lips.

"Yes," Tara said in a low tone, making Willow shiver delightedly, "that's actually far too easy to do by accident, mmmmm…"

"Maybe," Tara suggested, "we should tell Anya, and get her to reconfigure the control? Hmmmm?" Willow squirmed, holding Tara's foot tightly between her thighs.

"Agreeeeeeeeeed," Tara smiled, sliding her toes up to Willow's waist as the redhead involuntarily parted her thighs. Willow ran a shaking hand along the blonde's calf, and lifted her leg higher, leaning down to kiss her ankle.

"Just what you wanted for Christmas?" Willow giggled. Tara laughed lightly, then gasped as Willow closed her lips around her big toe and sucked it heartily.

"Sweetie," Tara purred, her eyes heavily lidded with desire. "I think…it's time to switch to manual control…"

At Willow's eager nod, Tara withdrew her foot and nimbly clambered out of her seat to straddle the redhead. Willow opened a hidden panel in the passenger side door and touched a button, which retracted the back seat – and its bemused occupant – into a rear compartment, leaving room for both front seats to recline fully, leaving ample room for Tara to stretch out on top of her and begin to open her wetsuit.

"Lots of neat accessories," Willow agreed. "But you're right, automatic is only so good. It's always better to go manual – have the control right there, in your…hand!" she finished gleefully, as Tara pulled her wetsuit open from neck to crotch and slid her hand between Willow's legs.

"First gear," she murmured, sliding down to rest her head on Willow's body, licking and kissing her stomach. She slid a single finger into Willow's steamy sex, and began slowly pumping in and out.

"Vroom!" Willow nodded, stretching her legs beneath Tara, her hands in Tara's golden hair, stroking her.

"Second gear," Tara whispered, adding another finger. Moist sounds emerged from between them, as the blonde's thrusts displaced generous amounts of warm nectar.

"You're a natural, baby," Willow murmured, one hand still running through Tara's hair, the other gently caressing her face.

"Third gear," Tara said, adding a third finger. She opened her mouth and sucked Willow's fingers as the redhead's hungry, moist core welcomed her questing fingers and clenched tightly around them. Her other hand snuck around Willow's hip, delving between her cheeks and massaging her tightly-clenched rose, slick with the rivulets of juice running out of her sex.

"Mmmmm," Willow purred, grinding her hips into Tara's hands. The blonde kept her other hand's caressed superficial, stimulating without penetrating.

"Fourth…gear…" she murmured around Willow's fingers, withdrawing her soaked fingers, adding the fourth, and slowly easing them back into the redhead's clenching channel.

"Love you," Tara replied. Willow's wet fingers stroked her chin, her cheek, ran up and down the edge of her ear. She opened her mouth wide and pressed against Willow's stomach, laving her tongue over all the pale skin circumscribed by her lips.

"Fifth gear…?" Willow asked, in a hushed, tentative whisper. Tara looked up slowly, without ceasing her slow thrusts between Willow's legs.

"You want?" she asked. Willow opened her eyes and met the blonde's gaze unflinchingly.

"You've got," Tara murmured, returning her lips to Willow's skin. She slid slowly down, licking Willow's waist, her russet curls, while her fingers grew slowly more agile, venturing a little deeper, twisting a little more from side to side with each gentle, drawn- out thrust.

"Open," Tara whispered, finally reaching Willow's clit and circling it with the tip of her tongue. She tucked her thumb in her palm and pushed gently inward, withdrew, thrust, a little more each time, feeling Willow's body give more, her tight, grasping lips clutching further up her hand with every sliding penetration. She tilted her head to one side, placed a gentle kiss on the side of Willow's vulva, careful not to overstimulate her, to cause her to tense, and with a slow, inevitable motion, slid her hand beyond the final set of knuckles, over the widest point as the back of her thumb slid in, and buried herself to the wrist in Willow's yielding sex.

"Willow?" Tara whispered, glancing up, seeing an expression of rapture lighting the redhead's face. Willow looked back, and Tara felt engulfed in the dark pools of green that caught her gaze.

"I'm in you," Tara said, unable to process any thought besides the warmth surrounding her hand, more than ever before.

"You've always been in me," Willow said, letting her head drop back. "Oh, Tara, please…"

Tara smiled and ducked her head, finally covering Willow's clit with her lips and sucking voraciously. She felt, from inside and out, Willow's climax begin, a heavy, trembling wave that ran through her, erupted from her mouth as a blissful moan and from her sex as a gush of nectar escaping the tight seal her lips made around Tara's wrist. It subsided quickly, and almost as quickly began again, Willow tensing, releasing, a second time, then a third, and again, again. Tara swallowed all she could of the precious juices coating Willow's sex, feeding on the ecstatic shockwaves – Willow's core was tugging at her, clenching and relaxing, and Tara let her arm go limp and watched in amazement as Willow's body made love to itself, forcing her hand back almost to its widest point with each orgasm, then drawing it back in, hungrily, bringing on the next.

It was a deliriously long time before Willow finally subsided. Tara gently withdrew her hand, placing a soft kiss on Willow's inner thigh as she felt her lips draw tight in the moment before she slid free.

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S.M.U.T. Bunnies

by Chris Cook

Copyright © 2005

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