What, you think she didn't know about that? She was in control now. She had the power. But Fred was what happened to girls who stayed girls. Who couldn't grow up to become a true woman, and always had a man to hide behind. They can't handle anything on their own, and they end up in mental facilities.
Lilah knew this. Her four best friends from high school couldn't grow up, they always admired Lilah's balls, but now they would get high on cocaine in a desperate attempt to ignore their husband's steamy affair with the au pair.
Lilah had grown up. She grew up fast, she had to in her world, once she entered the world of law, and that once she was told that she would only be valuable until she married, then she'd be expected to quit to have babies, so why give her a good position.
Ha. A glass ceiling couldn't stop Lilah Morgan. That was what plastic explosives were for. They worked well on glass. Lilah had learned her lessons early, much earlier than her friends did. Rule number one, your ovaries are your downfall. All they do is get you knocked up and make you bleed once a month. Rule number two, men are weaker than women. All you have to do is show them that. Nothing scares the hell out of men more than an empowered woman. Why else was Rush Limbaugh so popular with the CEO's in her office? And then there was rule number three. Rule number three was fine, was great, up until lately. She didn't know why, no, dammit, she knew why�
It was the daydreams, the ones that crossed her mind driving her car to work, or when she was out shopping for groceries or something mindless like that. Her daydreams about him used to be how to piss him off the most. How to seduce him, make him break down again and see him lose control for that one precious moment. But now, now the daydreams were different. They scared the living shit out of Lilah, which says something for a woman who's been on Angelus' hit list for the past four years and never batted an eye. And this is why she wasn't with him at this time, but instead in a trendy bar, with corporate men all around her trying to pick her up, pocketing their golden wedding bands while trying to guess her favourite drink. She swore that if one more man tried to buy her a Cosmo, she'd kill someone. Possibly one of them. She could do that now. She couldn't do him. Not anymore, not with these fucking daydreams. Because that could break rule number three, the one Lilah had never had any problem with before. Lilah calmly turned to the bartender to order yet another scotch.
* * *
Wesley was actually surprised when Lilah didn't show up at his door again. Maybe now that she was being promoted- or actually, murdered her boss and basically threw the office equivalent to a military coup- she would be too busy for him. He still remembered how she�d crowed about that for days, looking quite satisfied, like a cat after a kill. The thing about cats, Wesley knew, is that cats often turn on you. She�d still been coming around, though, which surprised him. Maybe now that things were getting busy, what with Connor all alone and just looking for someone to care (not that Lilah actually would, he noted), she would stop her random visits for sex. That was fine by him. Damn the bitch to Hell, for all he cared�
Except he did. He�d figured that out a while ago, that he actually did care. Who knew why, Wesley couldn�t figure that out. She was bitchy, argumentative, and sexy as Hell. Maybe it was because he could do whatever he wanted, every fantasy, every dream, and Lilah still came back for more. Maybe it was the way she could make him feel, taunting him while moving her slender curves over his body, teasing him to the brink of sanity. Maybe, just maybe it was the fact that she was the only one who seemed to give a damn about him. It must have been that, yes. He'd thought about her too much, after that last time when they'd held each other in their arms afterwards. He felt like for a moment, she was the vulnerable one. He could see it in her eyes, sometimes, during their most passionate moments or their most vicious fights, that he wasn�t the only one opening up, that Lilah was too- and that scared her a Hell of a lot more than it did him. That last time, when they�d held each other, for that brief moment, things seemed to feel okay for a moment. Not �right�, but okay. And then he�d looked down at her and saw that she was planning her quickest exit. And something about knowing the power he had over this all-too powerful woman had turned him on for Round Two- and it had also been a convienent way of keeping Lilah there, just for a moment.
Since then, he'd been dreaming of her. But not of killing her, not of fucking her brains out like his usual ones. No, now it was soft Lilah, sweet Lilah, holding her, kissing her, melting her. Lilah in white, Lilah dropping her shield.
Dammit, he needed her today, too, with Connor and Angel being back. Seeing Angel the other day in the factory was bad enough, with his saying that they were �okay�. He hated the word �okay�. �Okay� meant that he wouldn�t die by Angel�s hand. That was fine by him, but Wesley wasn�t feeling �okay� with Angel, and that was just fine by him. Especially with the handling of Connor- couldn�t he at least provide for a roof over the poor boy�s head? Did Angel not realize that he was further endangering the boy to, well, people like Lilah. He'd seen the boy on the street, meandering around. Angel had rashly blamed Cordelia's disappearance on him. Too bad Angel didn't realise that you couldn't count on women. Never could, never can. His conscience was acting up again, and he nursed his whiskey, wondering where she was�
***
Lilah knew she was drunk again. That's why she was here. Here to come in and taunt him mercilessly, until he had enough of her and threw her around, fucking her. There was no tenderness in his actions, no softness. He did it out of spite, and stung her with remarks afterwards. Sometimes, Lilah didn't know how she kept her face straight, in her perpetual smirk that she had come to rely on. Every morning, she put it on, along with her lipstick.
She rapped on the door, gently. Almost immediately he opened it, as if expecting her. Damn him. She should just turn around and leave. His shirt was opened, half the buttons undone, and he looked sexy, tousled and drunken. Good, just the way she needed him.
"I saw your little Texan whore today. She and her man look happy together. Can't blame her, he looks good." Lilah chirped, sounding as if she was talking about seeing a friend on the street.
His eyes narrowed. Good. Make him hurt like Hell, Lilah that's what it's about. Pain and sex. Sex and pain, they're interchangeable.
"Where've you been? I suppose you're happy with your little coup d'etat."
"Naturally. I think my favorite part was watching Linwood's face when his spinal cord was severed. Priceless."
"I'm sure you have it on DVD." He paused to sip his drink, not even offering her any. "So why are you here? I figured you didn't need to redeem yourself with the company anymore."
Her heart twisted at that remark. �If he only knew...� Lilah silently cursed her emotions. Emotions make you weak. Ovaries make you weak. Damn ovaries. It�s their fault. Lilah knew she should have gotten that hysterectonomy when she had the chance.
"Isn't it obvious, Wesley? I consider this my charity work. It's not like Fran would lie down for you."
"Fred," he hissed.
He still loved that whore, for reasons unknown. But Lilah didn't care. No, she wouldn't care. She was here for one thing.
"Yeah yeah, well, I offered it to you, but if you're not interested, I guess I'll just head home." She started to saunter towards the door, and smirked just a little more when his hand roughly encircled her wrist.
"I'm not finished with you yet." he growled as his head dipped down to hers, kissing her roughly with his lips, biting and pulling on her lower one.
Lilah didn't know whether to laugh or cry. His lips felt oh so good, and yet, somewhere inside of her, something cried for more. Something more that Lilah wouldn�t have.
***
"Dammit, Wesley, that's about the fifth thong I've gone through. One of my silk ones, too. These aren't cheap, you know." Lilah sighed as she chucked the ripped black Italian lace away, to some corner. Let him keep it, he'll probably make a voodoo doll out of it.
You know you like it," he murmured as he seemed to absentmindedly stroke her hair, running his fingers through the silken mahogany strands.
She allowed herself to relax ever so slightly, not enough for him to feel it- never enough for that. She liked this so much, the feeling afterwards, their bodies pressed together, despite the heat that flushed them and the sweat that made their skin stick together.
She could almost pretend, at these moments, that he cared. That it was more to him than a quick fuck.
Wesley noticed the slight release of tension from Lilah. He knew, with sadness, one of them would soon say something to another, probably him. It was his turn, anyways. His turn to belittle her- he pretended he didn't see the hurt in her eyes. He did, but it was always fairly rewarded. Her skin felt so soft against his, as her head rested in the crook of his shoulder. It was nice to pretend, he thought, that someone gave a damn about him. She could make him pretend that, in these moments, after her body was done trembling with passion and desire, when all was calm and peaceful. His fingers played in her hair; he loved her hair, so soft and smooth. He was starting to realize he hadn't slept since she'd last been over- almost a week ago. It had been so long since he had been able to. Sleep was beckoning, but he didn't dare. For all he knew, he would awaken to find her ready to slit his throat. Not like that was new. Or worse, he'd awaken to find her gone. Cherish the peaceful moments, he'd learned, when he could pretend, when he could see the Bitch Queen become soft and sweet, just like he dreamed. Dreams, he'd decided, were meant to mock you.
Lilah had fallen silent, he realized. Damn, he'd missed his cue. He looked down; half expecting to find her giving him a confused, angered look. Lilah was too damn skittish of tenderness, he'd noticed, for anything like this. Lilah was not looking at him in anger, or holding a knife, or trying to find any article of clothing. He was amazed at her, sleeping softly against his chest. She'd gone soft, like jelly in his arms. Just like he dreamed. Wesley couldn't help it. It was just like he dreamed, her looking so sweet, almost girlish, with her tawny eyelids stretched over her chocolate eyes, her breathing soft and sweet, her pink lips slightly parted. He just couldn't help but brush his lips over hers, tenderly, softly, just like he'd dreamed.
Apparently, not soft enough. Lilah jerked up at the touch, so soft, so sweet, awakening her from her soft doze. Her eyes were wide as the fear coursed through her body as she realized what she'd just done. What he'd just done. She almost fell off his bed, yanking on her skirt, leaving her blouse, her bra, her panties, only taking her jacket, and running like Hell out of there. She heard Wesley calling after her. She didn't look back, she couldn't. She was so tempted to call out that she was sorry, to stop and explain, that she couldn't do that, not when all she wanted was just for that. It was forbidden, it would break the third rule. She desperately wished for her icy cool that kept her going through these moments.
Damn you, Wesley, for taking that away. Damn you, she thought as she stepped into the summer's heat and smog that settled over LA. And as she left, she felt a strange wet sensation in her eyes, something Lilah hadn't had since she was nineteen. That's when she knew it was too late. She'd already broken the rule. And so she sat and cried on a curb somewhere in LA, only half a block away from Wesley's. Lilah cursed herself, for ever going there, and knowing that she would come back. She always did.
End
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