There Is No Softness Here
There should be softness here. No, no woman’s curves meet her fingers – hard, smooth…man.
Long ago, if she had met him then, would it have changed things? Banished the words: demon, witch, lesbian? Would any of them be less true?
She lets him in – body still unused to the push, pull, thrust. There is no softness here.
For a split second, something inside calls to regret, screams for Willow and red curls covering a woman’s sex. Eyes close, blink, and then it’s gone. She sees Spike - above, inside, all raw need and sadness…Willow.
She forgets again as she comes.
The End.