Chapter One: First Day

The two women quietly walked across the set, "Welcome to JIS Productions, I'm hoping you know what your job is?"

Buffy raised her eyebrows after hearing the acronym, "Yeah," she chuckled, "I'm supposed to get the actors ready." Buffy rubbed her hands together nervously.

Ms. Chase nodded, "Have you met him?"

"Who?" Buffy asked.

"Mr. MacCloud. He's your assigned partner," Ms. Chase smiled, pulling out a piece of paper. It was a head shot of her partner and a full biography, including a filmography. Name: William MacCloud, Surname: The Spike, Age: 27, Filmography: Beef Party 7, the Porn Identity…What? Buffy wrinkled her nose.

"He's definitely got some films under his belt."

Ms. Chase stopped, "Miss Summers, you seem like a bright young girl and I don't want to pry or anything, but," She sighed, "what are you doing here?" Her concerned voice echoed through Buffy's ears.

Ashamed, Buffy looked down, staring at her flip-flops. "I need the money," The stage lights reflected off the pink toe nail polish that matched the tint of her sundress. Ms. Chase touched her tanned shoulder.

"We're here. He's just in there," she pointed to the door with a sticker on it Piss Off!

"Seems friendly," Buffy laughed anxiously. What else was there to do but try to lighten the mood of the situation as best as possible?

Ms. Chase shrugged, "Well, maybe at first, but then you may grow to him. Sometimes he tends to like you." She ruffled through some of the papers she had in her hands.

"Sometimes?" She cringed, "Ms. Chase, I'm-,"

"Cordy," she corrected, holding up her palm, and shaking her head. She reached out and took Buffy's bag, "And you'll do fine. Go in there and get him ready," Cordelia playfully hit her arm and walked away, talking into the earpiece she had. Buffy stood there, waiting for the courage to knock on the door to rise inside of her. She raised her fist and just as she did so, the door opened and the most gorgeous creature on the face of the planet stood before her.

"I'm, um-," she faltered.

"Late?" He asked, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her in, slamming the door behind him. Buffy stumbled, but caught her balance as her hands reached out for the wall. Spike let go of her hand and gracefully walked across the room, "What took so long, love?" He moved further into the room, almost animal like, and sat in a spinning chair.

"I got lost on the set…and I couldn't find your room, so-,"

Spike grinned, "If you have anymore, I think I have a piece of paper in the back." He spun the chair around; it was clear with a black leather seat. She watched the muscles in his back flex as he leant forward to pick something up. He had on a pair of black boxers and well, that was about it. Actually, that was it, necklaces and a few rings do not count, she thought. "You ready to get started? I've got to be on in ten," He asked.

Buffy nodded and he threw a bottle of lotion over his shoulder, "Um, what's this for?" she questioned him. He stood up slowly, turned to face her with a wicked grin on his face and a lustful twinkle in his deep blue eyes. My God, they are so blue… He took a step towards Buffy, she had moved closer to him sometime in the past two minutes. His left hand reached out for hers, moving underneath her fingers, her pulled her to the chair. He moved around it and sat back down; "Well?" she waited for a response.

He craned his neck, tilting his head just enough to see her from the corner of his eye, "What do you want to do with it?" His voice barely carried to her ear, but barely was what made her melt like an ice cream cone in July.

"I-I don't know," she whispered. Spike smiled and leaned back, facing fully forward.

"You've never done this have you?"

Is it that obvious? Buffy had not noticed, but she was opening, closing, and re-opening the bottle of lotion he had thrown her only moments before, "How'd you know?" she sighed, stilling her hands of the tedious tick.

Spike shrugged, "Don't seem to be that bloody naughty to me," She could not see, but there was a wide grin on his face. One that was going to be there for the remainder of her time with him.

"Oh, you like naughty, huh? The I'm-your-English-teacher-give-me-your-body type?" Buffy raised her eyebrows when he flew around, a horror-filled expression on his face.

"No!" He shouted, "For God's sake, my English teacher was a man!" She could not help but laugh at the reaction to her statement, "Bloody English professor…what the hell's wrong with you?" Spike asked. The signs of an impending smile formed on his face.

"Nothing," Buffy said defensively, "Just asked a question," Spike stood up and looked at the clock above the door.

"Pet, you have any magic tricks up those sleeves…or…" His eyes flew to her hand, a wide smile forming on his face. Within moments, Buffy was against a wall, Spike pinning her, "What's your name, pet?" He whispered with his eyes closed. Buffy felt the stirring in her stomach and mentally slapped her self; you cannot want a porn star! Reason number one on a very long list happened to be that she had a boyfriend. A handsome, sweet, down-to-earth boyfriend that she had plans on keeping for a while and any type of attraction to this man would send that packing on the highway to hell.

"Buffy. It's Buffy," she panted. Spike had a soft but firm hold on her wrist, pulling it towards the hem of his boxers. She knew exactly what he wanted. It just felt extremely awkward, see above boyfriend rant. Not only that, but she had never given a hand job before! How did she know if she was amazing or if her embrace felt like she was giving a wet noodle the Vulcan Death Grip? "Spike-," Her words were caught in her throat when he hand invaded the opening of the black cotton.

Spike pushed her hard against the wall, taking in a sharp breath before resting his head on the concrete behind her. Buffy's other hand worked at the top of the undergarments. With a swift movement of her arm, the cloth crumpled on the floor around his ankles. Spike guided her hand to his hardening member. Job is almost done, Buffy thought to herself. Her small fingers fluidly snaked around the base of him, pulling forward and falling back to its original placement.

He pulled his head back to see her face. From the looks of it, she was getting just as much pleasure out of this as he was and she did not seem too intent on stopping anytime soon, nor did he want her to. Spike pushed his forehead against hers, the back of her head hitting the wall softly. The ministrations she was performing on him were enough to drive a man mad.

She had done her job, but ceased to halt her actions. Her soft, warm palm stroked him mind-numbingly slow; he could feel her frantic breaths hitting his face. Carefully, Spike moved closer, his chest pressing against hers as the movement of her hand quickened. Buffy pushed her hand to his base again, running the tip of her thumb over the dark locks.

She received a deep groan, an encouraging one at that, giving her the satisfaction of knowing she was not Spock in the situation. Buffy, still forcefully pressed against the wall, used the mental control she had left to turn them around, switching positions. Spike's back hit the abnormally cold wall and he tired to avoid touching it, but Buffy wouldn't have any of it. She pushed him back harder.

He smiled at her brute force, his hands moving to her waist, Buffy couldn't help but lean in to kiss his undeniably soft lips. As she neared, Spike turned his head, "We can't…" He whispered. He knitted his brow, his breathing labored, "Don't stop," he insisted. Buffy noticed that her hand's pleasurable movements had come to a screeching halt. She started again, gently squeezing his solid length, "Please, I--," Buffy kept her touch agonizingly slow. The hand that had been out of commission through the entire ordeal moved below her other to caress his sack.

Spike's mouth formed an 'o' shape, a moan escaping. It rolled through her ears, sending her to a point of arousal she did not know even existed. It was not her choice by now, Buffy leaned into his neck, her lips moving across the column of his throat. She felt his muscles tense at her touch. Spike frowned from the kiss and the torture she was forcing on him, I can't let things get too out of hand…but my God, she can push the limits.

Spike subconsciously grabbed the back of her head, pulling her closer to him. Buffy slightly pulled down on his newly developed erection, his hips bucking forward against her pelvis. She left a trail of wet kisses down his neck, stopping just at his collarbone. Her thumb found his head, a bead of pre-cum had developed. Suddenly a light went off in her head, causing her to pull away and wipe her hand on the side of her dress. Spike stared at her in confusion, "W-what's wrong, pet?"

She shook her head, "Nothing…I did my job."