Title:
Warm Leatherette
Author: Pixiedude
Rating: NC-17
Pair: Liz/Faith from Buffiverse, with faint whiffs of
Liz/Maria and Max/Michael. Nothing to do with canon from
either show.
Distribute: anywhere
Email: josecheung@slashcity.tv,
url=http://www.slashcity.tv/ ~josecheung/
A vignette inspired by Leta's Punk Liz pic, inspired by
spoilers about Meet the Dupes/Max in the City, but there
are no spoilers in this fic. Nothing but the title comes
from the late '70's song Warm Leatherette.
Maria sighed as she
pulled the rubber band out of her hair and shook it
loose, the ritual signalling the end of her workday. Her
feet throbbed, and she knew she smelled like french fry
grease. She leaned against her locker in the back of the
Crashdown, closed her eyes, and wondered what Michael was
doing.
Or who he's doing,
she said to herself. You're pathetic, her inner
voice continued. She couldn't remember how many times
she'd watched her mother dance to the Mr. Wrong hustle.
Rubbing Amy's back as she sobbed on the couch, Maria had
sworn to herself she'd never be that stupid. She was
startled back to the present by Liz clattering around in
the next locker.
"Fuck!" Liz
exclaimed, as her purse fell to the floor. Lipstick and
eyeshadow slid out, in colors that reminded Maria more of
Haloween decorations than make-up. She was having a hard
time getting used to the New Liz.
"What's the name of
that new nail polish you're wearing?" Maria asked,
as Liz scooped up her kit. The iridescent color was
somewhere between green, gray, and dark blue. It was so
ugly, she couldn't stop looking at it.
"Glock," Liz
said, " and this is Uzi," she continued,
holding up another bottle from her purse. "But I
think I'm going to change it tomorrow," she held up
a bottle in yet a third indescribable color, "to
Manslaughter." Before she set her purse back on the
locker shelf, she pulled out a pack of Krakatoa Kretek
clove cigarettes, and lit one with a lighter bearing a
skull and crossbones. She clenched the cigarette in her
teeth as she began to unbutton her uniform.
"Eeww!" Maria
said, waving her hand in front of her face. "Does
your dad know? You're gonna get caught. And can't you at
least smoke something normal? It smells like someone's
baking a ham in here."
"What's so great
about normal?" replied Liz. Immediately, she
regretted it, as she remembered how she'd first heard
that line.
Maria wasn't paying
attention, however. She'd thought Liz's perky tits were a
little bouncier than usual tonight, but she hadn't
realized that Liz wasn't wearing a bra. Liz smiled as she
realized why Maria was staring. She closed one eye as the
smoke started to make it water, thrust her hips forward
in a bump and grind motion, and continued unfastening the
row of buttons down the front of her uniform strip- tease
style. When it hung loose, she began to slowly roll down
the top of her pantyhose, until she'd revealed a strip of
dark brown hair above the white elastic waistband.
"Liz, come on, cut
it out!" said Maria. "I don't want to see
anymore."
"Then why are you
still looking?" Liz giggled.
Maria turned back
towards her locker. She was still in uniform, except for
her shoes. It felt like her whole body was blushing, and
the fabric between the legs of her own panties was
uncomfortably damp. She started to undress, staying close
to the locker, watching Liz's legs under the door as Liz
stripped off her stockings and began pulling on a pair of
skin-tight black leather pants.
As Maria stood on one
leg to pull her own pantyhose off of her other foot, she
started to sway backwards. She gripped the edge of the
locker door in time to keep her balance, but not before
she saw Liz's bare butt above the waistband of her pants.
"Liz, you're not
wearing any underwear under those? Aren't you afraid
they're going to chafe? You don't want blisters down
there, believe me."
"And how would you
know anything about that?" Liz chuckled as she
pulled the pants up to her waist. "Anyway, I won't
be wearing them for very long."
"You're going out
with Leatherette again tonight, aren't you?" Maria
said. "Liz, what's happened to you? It's like I
don't even know you anymore since you started hanging
around with her. I mean, Max is, well, Czechoslovakian,
but she's, like, totally *weird.* She scares me."
Liz finally took the
cigarette out of her mouth. She ignored the ash that fell
on the floor as she swept her hand through the air.
"Maria, when are you going to accept that I'm not
that mousy little small town girl anymore? I've broken
out of their *spell*." When I first found out about
the ...Czechoslovakians, I was as in awe of them as you
were. But after a while, I figured out that just because
they're alien doesn't mean they can't be boring as hell.
"
"And it's not as if
they need us, or anything. They're so wrapped up in their
own private space opera, they hardly even know we exist,
except when they want us to do something for them. Take
you and Michael. I know you. You wouldn't take a tenth of
this shit off of a plain old human *boy.* But he's
"Not of This Earth," Liz said archly, waving
her hands, "so you're his personal welcome mat to
the planet. Even if the truth *is* out there, that
doesn't mean he's the truth. He's just out there."
"And Max isn't any
different. You really want to know who Michael's with
tonight? They don't need us for *anything* anymore,
Maria."
Maria was stunned.
"Look, Liz, you know you're my best friend, no
matter what. This is just so *different.* I mean, I'm
used to being the fashion victim here." She'd never
realized how much tight leather could reveal.
They both turned as the
bells over the front door of the restaurant jingled. A
tough-looking young woman with full, plum-colored lips
strode in, wearing an outfit similar to Liz's, but dusty
and scuffed.
"Liz, I thought you
locked the door. Any psycho could have come in here while
we were changing!" Maria scolded.
"Five by five. I
popped the lock." Liz's new friend said to Maria,
holding up a small metal rod. "Did anyone ever tell
you that you look kind of like Bette Middler? Only a hell
of a lot sexier?
For once, Maria was
speechless.
Liz dropped her
cigarette on the floor, ground it out with the heel of
her steel-shank Doc Marten boot, and walked past Maria
into her lover's embrace. "Mmmmm, Faith, I've been
horny for you all day," she said. They opened their
mouths to kiss, then straddled each other's legs, and
began to grind their crotches against each other's
leather-clad thighs.
Sheesh, get a room,
guys, Maria said to herself. Even Michael Guerin had
more restraint than these two. But she couldn't stop
watching.
Their lips parted with a
smacking sound. "You're on your chopper,
right?" Liz asked.
"Mmmm, yes,"
Faith purred against her neck.
"Then let's blow
this popstand." Liz grabbed Faith's hand, and led
her out into the night.
Maria stood still and
listened until the sound of her own heartbeat was louder
than the growl of Faith's Harley.
|