FIC: Female of the Species(Part 2)

["Pat Kelly" <bandits@xxxxxxxxx>]

Hey.

Remember - I DID NOT write this. If you'd like to send feedback to the author, Leslie McKenna, her email is: McKenna@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Now, on with the show....

Part Two

This is the life, Xander thought, sitting back against the leather seat of the car he was driving. The freeway was empty, stretching out before him like a long, grey ribbon, and he gunned the car into a higher gear. Pushed his foot down on the accelerator, felt the vehicle shoot forward. A tug of excitement pulled at his insides. Above him the night sky, indigo blue and full of stars, smiled down upon him benevolently.

Yeah, this is the life, he thought again. Great car, high speed, beautiful clear night. What more could a guy want?

A few hundred metres up the road, he saw exactly what else a guy could want, and screeched the car to a halt in a cloud of road dust.

She stood there, tall, black and beautiful, dressed in a long white gown that reminded Xander of the statues he'd seen in some fusty old museum or other he'd attended in one of a hundred futile efforts to become cultured. The gown draped over her body, clung to her curves, which were generous, but not too generous. In all the right places too.

Jesus, Xander thought, open-mouthed, watching the woman approach the car. That's some hot babe.

"You wanna ride?" he asked, praying that this embodiment of beauty wasn't just standing by a night-time road for the sake of her health. Grinned when he saw her nod. "Hop in," he said, throwing open the passenger door. Watched as she did exactly that, as she slid into the seat beside him, the split in her long white gown exposing a lot of long black leg.

Black satin skin. Xander mused, tearing his eyes away. But, oh, he wanted to look. More, he wanted to touch. Cordy'd kill me, came the next thought, but he didn't much care. Found himself vaguely astounded at his lack of concern; normally Cordelia only had to click her fingers and he was there, nice little obedient lap-dog that he was.

"Where you headed?" he asked the woman, who turned to face him. Her face, he thought, was perfect, like an ebony carving. She had little scars on her cheekbones - tribal scars, he decided, wondering how he knew. Not caring about that either. Just knowing.

"Wherever you want to take me," she responded in a soft African accented voice. Vaguely Xander wondered how he knew her accent was African, but it was only a indeterminate wondering, because most of him was trying to understand if he'd really heard her say what he'd thought he'd heard.

Wherever you want to take me.

Never mind about wherever.

"You have a name?" Xander asked, starting the car again, thinking that he wasn't really in a fit state to drive, not with this woman sitting beside him, smelling of heady exotic flowers, exuding sensuality from the pores of her sweet-scented skin.

"Zuleka." Exotic name too. He caught her glance in the rear-view mirror; her eyes were black opals, with hidden black fire burning in their liquid depths. He thought he saw the hint of a hidden, secret smile. A secret smile for him. A secret smile that held promise. For him.

"Beautiful name," he murmured, thinking that sounded like just another line, but he meant it. Oh, how he meant it. Xander thought he'd never heard anything so beautiful in his entire life.

Zuleka tossed her long braided hair into which many beads of semi-precious stones had been carefully threaded and Xander heard them rattle together, like tinkling music. Concentrating on driving was becoming more difficult; her presence was disturbing him, turning him on, if he were to be scrupulously honest. Oh yeah, turning him on.

Caught her gaze in the mirror again, not aware of the road anymore, soaring off into a world that was just her, consumed in the deep dark flames of her eyes. Saw her smile, her teeth white and even in the shadow of her face. Felt her hand on his leg suddenly, stroking, upward, trailing along his inner thigh. Upward. More.

"Jesus." he muttered, unable to believe that this beautiful stranger was touching him. Closed his eyes. Touching him.

"Look, Xander," he heard Zuleka say. Wondered amongst the ecstasy how she knew his name, because he knew he hadn't told her. "Look ahead."

Opened his eyes.

Screamed.

And drove straight into the high stone wall that had suddenly erupted from the tarmac.

* * *

He was still screaming when he woke, hot and sweating, tangled in the sheets. Sitting bolt upright, he looked at the familiar contours of his bedroom in the high-class apartment he and Cordelia rented together. Uttered a little laugh because he realised he'd been dreaming. Just his luck of course, that some wondrous beauty should pick on him in a dream. Never happen in real-life, although he supposed Cordelia could be called beautiful. Had been so described by many people - most of them men, of course. But she didn't look very beautiful now, as his cries woke her and she emerged, angry as a swarm of wasps, from sleep.

"God, Xander," she said, removing her sleep-mask, which she wore every night, claming it protected her skin. "What do you think you're playing at?"

"Bad dream," he mumbled. "Sorry."

"Well, and so you damn well should be sorry," Cordelia fumed. "I have a very important meeting tomorrow morning, you know that. I don't appreciate being woken up by you sounding as though you had all the hounds of hell after you." Her expression softened then a little; she gave a tiny smile. "You don't, do you?" she asked.

"No, Cordy. No hounds of hell. Just a bad dream." Not all bad though, he remembered, thinking about his dream-woman, Zuleka, feeling her hand on him again, feeling arousal come back, completely overpowering the memory of the nightmare. "But since we're both awake." he said, reaching for her. Cordelia slapped his hands away.

"Oh please, I wouldn't be awake if it weren't for you yelling out," she said, putting her sleep-mask back over her eyes and flopping back down on her pillows. "And I'm going back to sleep now. Maybe if I get home early."

Disgusted, Xander got out of bed. He would, he decided, take the obligatory cold shower. Wash away both the dream and the desire. As he left the room, he cast a resentful glance in the direction of Cordelia's form, huddled under the covers.

Maybe if I get home early.

Ha! Pencilled in to make love to his own girlfriend. What a fine state of affairs his life was reduced to, being fitted into Cordelia's busy schedule like he was a client or something, instead of someone she professed to love.

And come to think of it, Xander thought, stepping into the shower stall, turning the water full-on cold, shuddering as the needle points of water hit him, when was the last time she'd said those magic words? When was the last time either of them had told the other how they really felt?

I love you.

Words that all lovers should say. He heard those words often, but not out of Cordelia's mouth. Nor out of his own. Out of Buffy's mouth, when she spoke to Willow, out of Willow's when she spoke to Buffy. Even out of - God forbid - Giles' mouth when he spoke to Joyce, his new wife. But not out of Cordelia's. Or his own. What, Xander wondered, scrubbing furiously at his chilled body, did that mean? Did it mean that he and Cordelia were finished? Or that maybe they should be?

C'mon, Xander. It's not that bad. Neither you or Cordelia are touchy-feely people. You don't voice your emotions easily. Yeah, Xander, the other voice in his head interrupted. But do you love her? And does she love you?

"Oh screw it," he said aloud. "Two o'clock in the morning and you're analysing your relationship."

Yeah, and maybe it needs analysing.

"No, it doesn't," he contradicted himself. "Everything's just peachy."

Clean and cold, he got back into bed. Was tempted to try and seduce Cordelia again. Decided against it. Cordelia could be. Well, she could be a bitch when she was angry. Xander didn't fancy spending the rest of the night in the other room.

Closing his eyes, he drifted back to sleep amazingly easy.

He wasn't altogether surprised to see Zuleka waiting on the road for him again. But this time there was no car. There was no wall. There was only her.

And him.


The alarm clock went off at seven, dragging him from a deep sleep that had been filled with another woman. Xander felt vaguely guilty that he'd been unfaithful to Cordelia, even if it was only in his sleep, but reflected again that maybe they needed to sit down and talk about things. That maybe the dream he'd had was just an indication of exactly how frustrated he was becoming. Not just with their almost non-existent sex life either. With the whole deal. But part of him was afraid to confront it; if he didn't have Cordelia, could he make it alone? Not something he wanted to discover. Not yet.

Cordelia was coming out of the bathroom, rubbing her wet hair with a fluffy towel. Contrary to last night's sourness - and Xander guessed he couldn't blame her for that - she now appeared full of sunny good humour.

"If I get this deal," she said, grabbing a glass of orange juice, gulping it down in a most un-Cordelia like fashion, "it'll mean a lot of money. We might be able to move somewhere better."

Xander sighed; it was always something "better" with Cordelia. She'd never got over her hang-ups with money. Xander doubted that she ever would. Now she had it again, she was even more terrified of being without it.

"Cordy, this place is great," he pointed out. "Short of a penthouse apartment, what more do you want?"

"I want to buy my own place, not just rent it. Owning your own property's an investment, Xander. Don't you care about that?" Xander shrugged. It wasn't top of his priorities, no. Cordelia saw the expression on his face, sighed, her good humour disappearing. "Well, that's just you all over, isn't it? Why go for the best when you can settle for okay? Well, I want the best." She cast him an appraising glance. "In everything, Xander."

Like a queen, she swept from the room to get dressed, and Xander had the strongest impression that she didn't include him in the "best" category. Felt, as he had felt a hundred times before, that she was only with him out of habit. Determined that tonight they would discuss their problems. Decided where they wanted to be. With or without each other. Xander was finding that he didn't much care anymore.

He arrived at work - a plush car salesroom - early. Decided to catch up on some outstanding paperwork. Cordelia always put his work down, he thought, switching on his computer. Oh, so subtly of course. Sure, she was happy that he'd been voted best salesman for the past two years, certainly didn't complain about his salary. But she was constantly on at him to go solo, to build up his own business, as she had done. Xander had given up arguing that he didn't want his own business. He didn't have the aptitude for it, and he didn't want the responsibility. Selling cars was great, but let someone else take the flak of ownership. Xander had no ambition to be some hot-shot tycoon.

He brought up his latest sale onscreen. A Porsche that had gone for a cool fifty thousand dollars. Smiled, thinking that someone could have bought a small apartment for that. Not a great apartment, true, but still. That Porsche would give him a fair whack of commission. Keep Cordelia happy with the dollars coming in. Grimacing he could almost see the dollar signs rolling in her eyes.

Once he'd finished that off, he looked to see his appointments that morning. Hmm. Top of the range BMW to a woman client, a Ms Lafayette. Another sixty thousand in the company coffers if he could pull that off.

Xander felt a buzz that was akin to a sexual thrill. The high of selling fast, expensive cars stayed with him for a couple of days at least. And more than that, the thought of being voted top salesman again appealed. Not totally without ambition, Xander.

Grinning, he got up from his desk, decided to go down to the showroom to make sure this baby was up to scratch. Maybe give it a clean-up. Not that it needed it - the car was in pristine condition - but he cared for all his cars like a father would care for a baby. Not that he'd ever have the pleasure of that experience. Not with Cordelia, anyway. She'd made it more than clear that she didn't want children. Ever.

The car sat on its alloy wheels, gleaming. For a few seconds Xander was reminded of Zuleka's gleaming black opal eyes, and he ran his hands over the car's bonnet, remembering the touch of her satin skin. So real. And so stupid, he reprimanded himself, allowing a dream to get a hold of him like that.

"Get a grip, Xander," he muttered, seeing his reflection in the car windows, which were blacked out. Smirking, he wondered if maybe the woman who was buying the car was involved in shady activities, or even if she was famous. But he didn't recognise the name at all. Yeah, but sometimes famous stars went under false names. Cordelia had told him that; she'd had celebrities in her boutique.

"Hey, Harris, your client's here."

Xander stood away from the car at his colleague's voice.

"Yeah, thanks, Frank," Xander responded, and with a final appraising glance, went in the direction of his office.

"She's a real babe," Frank remarked as they walked, and Xander smiled.

"Yeah, gorgeous car," he said, but Frank shook his head.

"Nah, I mean the babe who wants to buy the car." A smirk. "Wouldn't mind riding her, if you get my drift."

Xander didn't dignify that comment with a response. Frank was well known for his lewd talk. Still, he was a good salesman and.

Xander stopped outside his office door. Stopped dead. He recognised the scent that wafted out at him. The scent of night-blooming flowers. Jesus, a co-incidence. But he saw her from the back, tall, holding herself like a princess, bead braided hair hanging down her back. Co-incidence, he told himself again. Left Frank abruptly, went into his office. Closed the door. Smelled her scent more powerfully than ever. A fragrance that conjured up visions of heady equatorial nights, and he thought he heard the sound of drumming in his mind. Shook his head. And when the woman turned to face him, he wasn't surprised to see that her face was that of the woman he'd dreamed of last night. Flushed red because of the things he'd dreamed they'd done together.

But she smiled, obviously unaware of his deep confusion, extended a long, slim hand.

"Mr Harris?" Her voice was lightly accented; in her dark eyes there was no hint of recognition. But why would there be? Xander wondered, taking her hand with his own, which shook slightly. It had been his dream, not hers. Briefly he wondered if he was having prophetic flashes, like the ones Buffy was prone to. But he wasn't a Slayer. Wasn't anything but an all-too-normal car salesman.

"Ms Lafayette?" he croaked, saw her smile.

"That's me. Is my car ready to view?" She continued to hold onto his hand; her touch was warm and vibrant, like a constant flow of electricity.

"Oh, absolutely. Perhaps you'd like to come down and view it." Xander broke the contact, picked up the sheaf of glossy brochures and paperwork that held all the technical information on the car.

"That's why I'm here, Mr Harris." Smooth, smooth voice, like melted chocolate.

He took her down to the salesroom, let her view the car. Ms Lafayette - she hadn't yet told him her first name, but Xander guessed he knew - made suitably impressed noises. As he warmed to his subject - the wonders of the BMW and its leather interior, it high-horsepower engine, its speed, its sumptuous luxury - Xander felt his nervousness evaporate. He loved to talk about cars, and he knew everything there was to know about the models he was assigned to sell.

"I'm very impressed, Mr Harris," Ms Lafayette said. "You're very knowledgeable." A lift of full, glossy lips. "I like that in a man."

"Yeah, well, I believe in the quality of the merchandise," Xander said, thinking that sounded like so much company hype. But this woman - this glorious ebony statue of a woman - was unnerving him, and he found himself barely able to string together an original thought.

"I take it a test drive is possible?" she said.

"I. uh. yeah, sure. I'll get one of the junior personnel to take you out while I."

"I don't want one of the juniors, Mr Harris. I'm paying a lot of money for this car, should I decide to buy it, and I want you to take me."

I want you to take me. Jesus.

"No problem," Xander said aloud, aware that she was studying him, wondering where all this was leading to. Nowhere, of course. A minor psychic flash of an unknown woman combined with him and Cordelia going through a difficult time in their real life relationship, didn't mean anything was going to happen. "I'll just go sign the car out."

In the office, Frank gave him a sideways glance.

"Told you she was hot," he said. "You certainly look all fired up, Harris. Taking her out for a test drive, huh? Gonna test the suspension?"

Xander felt himself flare red again.

"Watch your dirty mouth," he muttered, but Frank just laughed and Xander fled.

Back in the showroom, Xander got a couple of the juniors to open the huge glass doors so he could drive the BMW out onto the street, then opened the passenger door for Ms Lafayette.

"Hop in." Remembered they were the words he'd used in his dream last night. Hop in.

He got behind the wheel, feeling as though he'd been returned to his dream world.

"Where do you want to go?" Not the exact words, but near enough. And her answer was near enough too.

"Oh, wherever," she murmured, and he thought he saw a hint of a come-on there. Decided that a woman like this one wouldn't be interested in the likes of him. Not in reality. "How about a tour of the city?" she continued. "If you've got the time, of course?"

Xander gave up fighting, decided to go with the flow. If he was having precognitive dreams about a beautiful woman, then who was he to fight it? Fighting had never been his strong point, after all.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I've got the time. All the time in the world."

And she smiled her exotic smile, and this time he knew he wasn't imagining the promise he saw in her eyes.


"I have misplaced my pants." (Homer J. Simpson)

"You know what the secret of life is?"
"Your finger?"
"One thing. Just one thing."
"That's great, but what's the one thing?"
"That's what you gotta figure out."
(Jack Palance, Billy Crystal, City Slickers)

"I heard your heartbeat." (Buffy Summers, to Angel, ANGEL)