Title: Place Your Bets
Author: Pattyanne
           snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Feedback:  Love some, thanks.
Rating: Up to NC-17
Summary:  Spike and Buffy are betting
as to who can last the longest without
sex.




Part seven:  Another Card Drawn


Since my strategy for using it as bait backfired,
my period is just the same old bloody nuisance it's
always been...so to speak.

Willpower boy...also known as Spike, the most
aggravating vampire ever to suck a neck...is slowly
but surely winning this bet.  I haven't begged yet, but
I have a strong suspicion that it won't be long.  And
when THAT day comes....

Oh, well. I suppose there's always the consolation
prize.  Once it's done, we can go back to doing the
things we do best together.

I really don't understand why this is happening.

I know I started it, but it wasn't supposed to go the
way it's going. Spike is...as he once put it...my willing
slave, ready to do anything I ask short of sunbathing
on the beaches of Waikiki.

So, what's the deal?  Did abolition come along without
my noticing it?  Has someone cloned Lincoln, and if
they did, who said he could free MY slave?

Well, if it's war he wants, it's war he's gonna get!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I opened the door and gave him my most dazzling
Pepsodent smile.  He returned it as he walked in,
then he raised his head and got a good whiff of the
air.

"You cooking something?"

Ha!  Wouldn't HE like to know?

"Yeah, I felt like baking cookies," I said. "Peanut butter
chocolate chip."

His eyes lit up!

"My favorite."

I know.

He followed me into the kitchen and stood next to me
watching as I measured and stirred, giving him an occasional
crack across the knuckles with a wooden spoon when he
stole chocolate chips out of the bag.

I took every opportunity to brush up against him 'accidentally
on purpose'.  Handing him the spoon, I instructed him to
stir while I added more chips.

There was another bag of them on his right, and I had
to reach past him to get my hot little hands on it. I
extended my arm...giggling madly in my own fevered
brain...pressing my breasts against him.

The Rock of Gibraltar just kept stirring.

For my next trick, I opened the bag of chips...with
my teeth!

This time, I got a small reaction.  His eyes looked
into mine, then dropped to watch me tear the top
off the bag.  His lips parted slightly.

I SAID it was a small reaction, didn't I?

He glanced down at the bowl, pronouncing the
dough as fully mixed.

"Okay, now we add the chips!" I said perkily, a
junior Julia Child. "Hold the bowl and keep stirring."

As I dumped the chips in, I made my next move.

"You know what the best part is, don't you?"

"Best part of what?" he wanted to know.

Duh!  "Of baking cookies. The best part is eating
bites of the dough."

"Is that a fact?"

I nodded. "When I was a kid, I ate more cookie
dough than my mom ever baked."

Dipping my forefinger into the bowl, I scooped
up a glob of dough, then stuck my finger in my mouth
and sucked it off.

I could almost hear the 'gulp' as he swallowed.

"Want a taste?" I inquired, the very essence of
casual.  My finger went back in the bowl and came
out adorned with sticky goodness that I offered
to him.

I thought I had him for a moment. His head dipped
just a tiny bit...

And THEN...that miserable, irritating, low down, scurvy,
rotten to the core, lousy, STUPID vampire...scooped the
dough off my finger and onto his.  He then transferred
it to his mouth without so much as a nibble of me!

"Hey, you're right," he said agreeably. "It's tasty this
way...unbaked and all."

Sometimes I really...really...hate him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cookie sheets are in the bottom cabinet.

They haven't ALWAYS been in the bottom cabinet. I
put them there before Spike showed up.

Instead of kneeling, I bent from the waist so's he
could take a look at my faded denim covered ass.
Then...when I straightened up...I did it in a way
that would give him the opportunity to look down
the front of my blouse.

When I was vertical once again, I came close to
whacking him across the head with the cookie
sheet.

The idiot wasn't even looking in my direction!  He
was leaning on the counter, paging through Fannie
Farmer's Guide to Better Baking!!

The word ARRGGHHH reverberated in my brain.

"Something wrong, luv?"

Oh, hell no.  What could POSSIBLY  be wrong with
this picture?

Essence!  Casual!  Help!

"No, everything's peachy. Side of keen."

"Right, then."  His voice was all brisk and helpful. "What
do you want me to do?"

**You know goddamn well what I want you to do!  I
want you to throw in your towel...scream "I can't take
it anymore!"  Clear off the counter with one sweep
of your hand and lift me up on it...rip my clothes
off...kiss me and touch me all over...lay me
down...unzip your pants and take out that great,
big....**

"Drop teaspoons of dough onto the pan and stick
it right in the...oven."


TBC...

Next: Ante Up