Primary Colors, And Seven Stars
by Patricia R.D.


Kate sits on the bar and drinks one Corona after the other, cerulean eyes set on the entrance. One never knows when evil might get thirsty.

Of course, she pretends not to notice Lindsey as he sits in a corner table and orders scotch. He hides his smile behind the glass, watching her ignoring him. It's become a game by now: he stalks her and she lets him. He seeks more than the woman -- golden hair, porcelain skin, uneasy smile, glorious curves concealed under denim and cotton -- . He's also attracted to the things she represents: Good, justice, light. All the things that he's not anymore.

In a world where evil crawls besides everyone, Kate Lockley is refreshing. Lindsey wonders how can someone live like that with such knowledge. He had his shot at redemption and then blew it, losing his hand in the process.

Maybe someday he'll gather the courage to approach her and buy her a drink. Maybe take her home and lay her on his Egyptian cotton sheets. Devoid of any clothes, he can try to understand the mystery and look for sunshine in her arms.

Maybe then, he'll find whether or not there's still hope for him.



Moonless night. Perfect to keep your office windows open while you fuck your partner.

Lindsey and Lilah don't make a big deal when it comes to sex: They go at it on nights likes this, they get off and then back to work. Lindsey has no problem with the arrangement: They're both attractive and full of desire, but rivals forever. In fact, Lindsey is convinced that in different circumstances -- maybe an alternate universe -- , a true relationship between the two of them would still be impossible.

So it comes down to his: Bare bodies entwined on the Italian leather chair, low gasps and moans of pleasure as expert hands play and sweat glistens on pale skin.

There are no kind words or gentle caresses after the climax, just hard breathing while they regain their strength. The embrace is broken and two pairs of hands feel in the dimly lit room, searching for their clothes. He picks her panties from the desk lamp and hands them to her as if it was a folder or a pen. Never a big deal.

He looks out the window while she dresses, the dark moonless night almost as cold as the aftermath of their passion.




Clothes away. Faith never wastes any time. She straddles Lindsey and kisses him deeply.


She traces his muscles with her fingernails. Nice and smooth, she thinks. He enters her with one swift thrust.


A hand snakes between their joined bodies, teasing the sensitive spot between Faith's thighs. He watches her raise and lower her hips at a fast pace. She smiles down at him, wicked grin. Almost scary.


His other hand -- once upon a time, he still had two hands -- reaches up to cup a perfect, bouncy breast, the thumb playing with the plum brown nipple. They move even faster now.


He lets go of her breast and clit and places his hands on her hips, helping her move. Faith's throws her head back and lets him set the pace -- just for a little bit.


Lindsey closes his eyes, letting the rest of his senses take over. In his mind's eye, he still sees her, glistening, hurricane of lust.


The climax is hard and fast for both of them. He opens his eyes as she raises up and walks away. No goodbyes.

And that's how you get a slayer off in seven minutes.


I care. I guess I just don't mind, Lindsey thinks as Darla drains him. He has no strength to stop her, his right hand barely raises to the small of her back, wanting to press her naked body against his.

He's okay with dying though. After spending the last two months looking for her, he'd finally gotten his one night of passion with Darla -- just as wonderful as he thought it would be.

She'd been surprised to see him in the little bar in Carmelita. But she'd quickly become master of the situation and bought Lindsey a drink, then another. Afterwards she took his hand and led him to her motel room.

And then she'd introduced to wicked passions he'd only dreamt of. He even got to pretend she was in love with him this time.

But now he is dying, his blood turning the white sheets crimson.

He dies with a smile.


He awakens hours later, still dead. He sits up and looks around. Darla stands by the open window, looking at the street. One hand rests on her stomach, almost a caress. She's gorgeous.

He smiles wickedly. for the first time in years, things are looking up.


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