Female of the Species Part 8

[lesley@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx]

Hi everyone - here is part eight of Female of Species. Hope you enjoy
it...

PART EIGHT

Buffy wasn't quite sure what to expect as she approached Dreams
Fulfilled. Wasn't quite sure how to act either. She tried to tell
herself that she was here on official FBI business, that she had
every right to ask questions about the exotic sounding Eden Adams,
but she felt nervous.
Part of the nervousness, she conceded, crossing the wide, tree
lined road to the pale sandstone building in which Dreams Fulfilled
was housed, was due to the thought that she might be entering a nest
of demons. True, it seemed unlikely that demons would have set up a
dating agency, but who knew? Especially after what the Goddess had
told them - that her investigation would lead her to the truth. Was
the truth, Buffy wondered, hidden here under the guise of help for
lonely people?
One way to find out.
Dreams Fulfilled was on the first floor of the building, a very
upmarket construction in the most upmarket part of Manhattan. Not a
place that just anyone could afford, Buffy thought as she took the
stairs. Why had Pete come here of all places? No disrespect to the
dead, but Pete wasn't exactly over-classy. A perfectly nice guy, of
course but&
Maybe, Buffy thought, coming to the glass doors of Dreams
Fulfilled, Pete had just become tired of the kind of women he did
have the opportunity to meet. Truthfully, the life he led didn't
exactly bring him into contact with "nice" women. Whores, yes. Drug
addicts, yes. Abused women with no respect for themselves, yes. Not
many so-called "normal" women there. Thinking about it like that,
Buffy could perhaps understand why Pete might have come here.
Quality, after all, cost more. But the bigger part of Buffy's mind,
fulfilled and happy as she was with Willow, felt a little sad that
Pete had found it necessary to come to a dating agency at all, even
an obviously exclusive one such as this.
Inside was a small, empty reception area with a few comfortable
seats. In the corner, just across from the doors, an antique-style
desk, behind which a young woman sat. She was talking animatedly into
one of the two phones set upon it. Before her, a computer screen
flickered.
The walls of the reception area were painted a relaxing shade of
apricot, which gave a warm, welcoming feel to the place. Almost
sedative, actually. Pot plants had been set around in profusion; some
were in flower, giving the waiting area a semi- tropical atmosphere.
The air smelled of some musky sweet perfume that was just understated
enough not to be overpowering. Tasteful paintings of people in love
decorated the walls - not too many, just enough to enhance the sense
of warmth and, Buffy supposed, to remind people of why they came
here. In the hope of finding true love. To have their dreams
fulfilled, as the name of the agency suggested.
The girl behind the desk nodded at Buffy to acknowledge that
she'd seen her, mouthed that she wouldn't be too long, then continued
to speak into the phone. Buffy continued looking around. There were
magazines neatly arranged on the obviously expensive glass and bronze
coffee table. The latest editions of True Romance and Love's Promise,
which were supposedly true accounts of true love stories, to name but
two. Plus a few glossy society publications. Buffy wrinkled her nose.
Did people really read this garbage? Apparently so, and even if they
didn't, it was the kind of thing she supposed she might have expected
in a dating agency waiting room. Not that she'd ever thought about it
before&
"Hi, I'm Chantal. How may I help you?"
Ah, the girl was off the phone now, smiling a perfectly white
smile in a perfectly made-up face. A highly presentable front for the
agency, Buffy decided, wondering if the girl's perfection was perhaps
surgically enhanced.
"I hope so," Buffy said, unimpressed. Chantal indeed! Most
likely a glamorous name given especially to make her sound more
attractive. "I'd like some information on your set-up here."
The girl's pleasant expression didn't falter at this somewhat
direct approach; obviously well trained, she kept her
whiter-than-white smile. Buffy half-expected to see a glint of
diamond brilliance to fly out of the smile.
"Well, that might be a little difficult," Chantal's pretty
little girl voice tinkled, aggravating Buffy even more.
"Oh?" Buffy queried. "Difficult, why?"
"Well, I assume you are looking for the perfect date, but I'm
afraid to say you have come to the wrong place."
"This is a dating agency, isn't it? I mean, that's what it says
in the Yellow Pages." Buffy decided not to pull her ID just yet. This
was interesting in itself. In the wrong place?
A faint flush stained Chantal's porcelain cheeks. For the first
time, Buffy felt that the girl was vaguely uneasy.
"Well, truth is, Dreams Fulfilled was first and foremost set up
for lonely gentlemen. I'm afraid our advert in the Yellow Pages is
rather misleading, but it was printed before it could be amended. At
present, we only have women for men, not men for women." Chantal
tapped her long, pale pink nails on the desk in mild irritation,
expertly covering her unease. "I'm so sorry, but you've wasted your
time, coming here. However, if you would like the address of a
reputable agency for women, I can refer you to&"
"Sounds more like an& escort agency to me," Buffy observed. "You
people running a racket here?"
Chantal looked horrified at the suggestion, and Buffy saw her
composure falter for just a second before she once again arranged her
features in that increasingly annoying smile.
"I can assure you that this is a perfectly legitimate
operation," she protested.
Buffy decided it was time to use her official powers. Reaching
inside her jacket, she pulled out her FBI identification, feeling a
surge of power as she did so. Not an entirely pleasant feeling, the
power she had. Different from her Slayer power, the authority the
State gave her could be used almost like bullying, if she were to let
it go to her head. Still the words came out of her mouth.
"I'm glad to hear it. I'm here on official business, so cut the
nice crap and drop the party line, okay?"
Buffy grimaced to herself, thinking she sounded like a cliché of
every cop she'd ever watched on TV. Of course, she wasn't a cop, but
most people didn't really know the difference. And what was the
difference, in truth? She was here to uphold the law, see if there
was a crime - or worse - being committed here.
"I really don't think&" Chantal began, but Buffy interrupted.
"I guess you're not paid to think, right? Just to deliver what
you've been told to say." Too aggressive? Buffy wondered. Oh, who
gave a damn? "I'd like to speak to whoever's in charge here. I mean,
it's not just you, a phone and a computer, right? You do have
personal advisors?"
"Well, of course, but&"
"So call one for me and let me speak with them. I must warn
you," Buffy continued, as Chantal seemed inclined to argue, "that
obstructing a federal agent in the course of their work is a
prosecutable offence."
After a second's pause, Chantal picked up a phone and punched a
key. Mumbled a few words into the receiver. When she had replaced the
receiver into its cradle, she turned to Buffy again. To give Chantal
credit, Buffy noted that her smile was firmly back in place.
"Deanna will be out shortly."
Buffy nodded, prepared to wait. Within a few seconds, a door at
the back of the reception area opened and a woman in her thirties
came through it. Another flawless beauty, Buffy thought, feeling a
return of the nervousness she'd felt when she'd approached the
building. Then wondered why she felt nervous. She didn't get any
demon vibes here, no scent of evil, just a kind of plasticised vision
of beauty set up to attract lonely men who wanted a pretty package.
Although Deanna wasn't really what she could call plasticised. Deanna
was& She was seduction personified, if Buffy were to be scrupulously
honest with herself.
"Ms Summers?" The woman - Deanna - enquired. Buffy pushed
Deanna's attractiveness from her mind, held out her ID again.
"Agent Summers," she corrected, her tone harder than she'd
intended. Deanna inclined her head in a gracious nod; the faintest
smile tilted the full, scarlet painted lips.
"I understand you wish to speak with me about Dreams Fulfilled?"
"You got that right."
A cool, appraising look from cool blue eyes. Then another
inclination of the dark, perfectly coifed head.
"If you'd like to follow me&" Deanna indicated that Buffy should
follow her through the door, and Buffy did so, finding herself in a
corridor, then through another door into an intimate office area.
Again, the office was decorated in good taste, designed - Buffy might
have said cynically designed - to put people at their ease. The heady
fragrance of flowers hit her again - almost choked her this time, yet
at the same time intoxicated her senses. Looking around, she saw out
of season lilies and orchids in full-bloom placed in glass vases
around the room.
"Nice set-up you got here," Buffy remarked, watching Deanna's
face carefully. The woman smiled briefly again, allowing small white
teeth to show.
"It works for us," she said smoothly. "So, Agent Summers,
perhaps you would like to tell me why you are here?"
"I'm investigating a suspicious death," Buffy replied, coming
straight to the point. No more fencing with words. No more haze in
her head. "A federal agent has died and I found one of your agency
cards in his apartment. A name was scrawled on the back. One Eden
Adams. I'm here to get her address from you."
"I'm very much afraid that we can't break a client's
confidentiality."
Buffy paused. She didn't get this set-up, not at all. This was
supposed to be a dating agency, yet apparently no women were on their
books - not looking for love anyway.
"I asked your receptionist, and now I'm asking you. Are you
running a racket here?"
Deanna raised finely arched eyebrows.
"I don't know what you mean by racket..."
"Yeah, you do, but I'll say it differently. Are you running a
high-class prostitute agency under the guise of a dating agency?"
"Absolutely not." Deanna spoke with such vehemence that Buffy
was inclined to believe her, but was more confused.
"What then?"
Deanna gave her a long hard stare, and Buffy felt as though
she'd been punched in the stomach. The woman really did have
beautiful eyes& Eyes full of&
Buffy came back to herself, blinked, wondered what had just
happened. Nothing just happened, she thought somewhat dreamily. Just
went a little dizzy there. Again.
"Let me explain, Agent Summers," Deanna was saying. Buffy
watched the woman's lips move, felt like running a finger across
their shiny crimson fullness. Wondered what it would feel like to&
"We do take female clients, but usually they are rich, or famous, or
want their confidentiality protected. They pay us a lot of money so
that they might be set up with suitable male&" A purse of the mouth
as Deanna considered. "Companions," she finished, with a smile, and
Buffy felt herself enveloped by the scent of exotic flowers again.
Felt that almost-high roll through her, sending her mind half-soaring.
"So what about the men you accept as clients?" Buffy barely had
the presence of mind to ask. A tiny frown passed across Deanna's brow
as though she hadn't expected Buffy to make any more enquiries. As
though she thought the inquisition - feeble though it had admittedly
been - finished.
"As long as they are respectable, can afford to pay our fees,
and respect the women's right to privacy, then we will accept them,"
Deanna said after the tiniest pause.
"And what about Eden Adams?" Buffy asked, barely hanging onto
the reason she was here, although the temptation to stop asking
questions and leave was almost too much. Or else, not leave but&
Horrified, she understood she was almost unbearably attracted to this
woman, Deanna, and it ruffled her composure terribly.
"Eden Adams is no one, Agent Summers," Deanna said silkily, and
Buffy found herself caught by her eyes again, lost herself in them.
"No-one and nothing. You know that, don't you?"
Buffy sighed, and for a few seconds she was back in her dreams
and Deanna was saying that she could be great and&
"I know that," she repeated softly. Through hazed eyes she saw
Deanna rise from her chair, saw her approach, took in a deep
inhalation of lily-scented air.
"Then you can leave here and report back that your partner's
death was undoubtedly suicide." A soft caress across Buffy's cheek,
the trail of a red-painted, almost taloned fingernail down her face,
leaving her dry-mouthed and wanting. "He took a gun, put it to his
head, and, in a fit of unaccustomed depression, pulled the trigger."
Buffy was sure she hadn't mentioned the method of Pete Madison's
death, or that he'd been her partner, or that the death was possibly
suicide. Almost sure. Well, maybe she had. Because otherwise, Deanna
wouldn't have known, would she?
"Yeah. I guess that's what happened after all," she murmured,
all too aware of Deanna's mouth close to hers. Deanna drew back,
leaving Buffy feeling empty and& unfulfilled.
"That is what happened, Agent Summers," Deanna whispered. "Now
you may go."
Buffy stood on shaky legs, not too sure of what had just
happened. Deanna had broken the eye contact, and all Buffy knew was
that the answers she sought were not to be found here at Dreams
Fulfilled. And that her brain felt somehow fogged, as though she was
a little high on drugs.
"Thanks for your time," she muttered, and Deanna smiled brightly.
"No problem, Buffy," she said. "No problem."

Half an hour later saw Buffy sitting on a bench in Central Park,
feeling shell-shocked and half-out of her mind with confusion. Not
over Pete Madison's death - as far as she was concerned, that was
indeed suicide, and Eden Adams was nothing to do with it. No, her
confusion was over Deanna&
Deanna who? Buffy hadn't even registered a surname. Deanna who?
Deanna& Deanna& Deanna&
The woman's name reverberated through her head, a song, a litany
for a woman Buffy barely knew but now found herself completely
obsessed by.
Although she was with Willow, another woman, in a physical,
mental and spiritual relationship, Buffy had never really considered
her sexuality & different. The word "lesbian" meant nothing to her as
a personal label, and she'd never associated herself with the often
vociferous groups of angry women she'd sometimes run across. Never
associated Willow with them either. No, she and Willow loved each
other; they were soul mates and Buffy knew enough to understand that
souls knew no gender, race or creed. Souls loved souls, and that was
what had happened with her and Willow. The physical side of it was an
expression of heir bond; the only way bodies could show the love of
the souls.
Before Willow, Buffy had never looked at a woman in that way.
She'd had many boyfriends - notably Angel, although she guessed she
couldn't truly call him a boyfriend. A lover, yes. A sworn enemy yes.
But boyfriend didn't exactly describe what Angel had been to her. Too
deep on all levels. Indeed, at one time, she'd thought him her
soul-mate. And she'd been attracted to other guys since. Until Willow.
So no, Buffy didn't want to put a label on herself. But now she
wasn't so sure. Deanna had called to her body, oh boy, had she
called. A physical attraction so strong, her body had hurt with it.
And Buffy still felt it now, saw Deanna's face in her mind. Could
feel her call, could imagine how those lips would taste, how she
could lick off that lip-gloss, how she could&
"Jesus!" Buffy exhaled loudly, causing passers-by to stare. What
was going on with her? The thought that Deanna was indeed some kind
of succubus crossed her mind, but again, she hadn't felt or scented
demon there, just that scent of flowers. As far as her experience
went, demons were never sweet scented. Perfumed with death. Excrement
stenched. Sometimes the aroma of an opened grave. But never floral.
Frankly, Buffy didn't know what to think, except that maybe she
should start putting labels on herself. Maybe her true sexuality was
only just coming out. If that was so, it was coming out in a big way.
Ha! Coming out. Very amusing. Not.
Or maybe she was bisexual. Maybe&
"Maybe nothing," she said aloud; apparently speaking to herself
was the order of the day. Agitated, Buffy stood. Maybe she ought to
seek out Giles. Wondered if he'd had the package from Ethan Rayne
yet. Hoped so. Maybe there'd be some information about exotically
perfumed demons.
But why bother, Buffy? Was that Deanna she heard? Why not accept
it? Why not take what is offered to you?
"But what's offered to me?" she asked, causing more people to
stare and laugh as they walked away. Laugh at the crazy blonde woman
who talked to herself. There was no answer to her question, however.
And the offer hadn't really been there, had it? It had just been a
hangover from her dream talking to her confused mind.
She didn't fancy going back to her office. Didn't much fancy
doing anything. Besides, time had flown by. Looking at her watch,
Buffy realised she'd sat here nearly all afternoon, day-dreaming her
time away. She supposed she should go home, because she felt fit for
nothing anyway.

Back home, all was quiet. Willow wouldn't be home for a couple of
hours or so. Sighing, Buffy decided to take a shower, wash the day
away. That sounded like a very good idea.
Clean again, Buffy wandered through the apartment, restless and
still unsettled. Haunted. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw
Deanna's face. Finally she acknowledged that something was happening
to her, but it didn't feel like a something bad. Indeed, it felt like
something good. Very good&
The scent of flowers enveloped her then, as though constantly
thinking about it had finally caused it to crystallise into being.
She took a huge breath of flower-fragrant air then, closed her
eyes as she inhaled. Kept them closed as she saw Deanna in her head
again. Not only saw. Felt. Felt cool, yet hot, lips touch hers.
Tasted the lip-gloss at last, luscious exotic fruits that Buffy had
never tasted before. Felt small even white teeth sharp under her
questing tongue. Took a huge gulp of air as though she were drowning.
Hands like satin over her skin then, feather touch, sending her mind
over the edge into the land of forbidden pleasures. Because this was
not Willow, this was wrong& This was&
Buffy didn't care as ecstasy rose inside her, as she sank to the
floor beneath her mind-consuming fantasy.
This was full of awe and wonder and mind-blowing rapture.
And Buffy, lost in its spell, could think of nothing else.