TITLE:         In A Silent Way - Milestones.
AUTHOR:        Black Widow
EMAIL:         bw@lurker.freeserve.co.uk
FEEDBACK:      Please? Pretty please?
SUMMARY:       Jeux sans frontieres?
SPOILERS:      None.
RATING:        PG.
PAIRING:       Joyce/Willow
DISCLAIMER:    The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,
               Kuzui, Sandollar, and Greenwolf Productions, 20th Century
               Fox, the WB Network, and whoever else may have a hold on
               them.  The situation is wholly mine, and I do not mean to
               infringe upon any copyrights
ARCHIVE/DIST:  You want it, take it. Just send me an email to let me know
NOTES:         This is the third in a series of Metheny inspired stories.
               I'm cheating with this one cos it was inspired by the
               trumpet playing of Mark Isham.  The title track (track
               one in the story) can be found on the album 'Miles
               Remembered: The Silent Way We Project'. There is Metheny
               in the story, though. Track eight is 'Always and
               Forever', from the album 'Secret Story'


As Willow was about to go out the door Joyce suddenly blurts out "Can we
play a game? Tonight? When you get back, can we play a game?"

Willow stops and looks back at her, "Sure, Joyce," she says. Willow had
sensed that Joyce was preoccupied, but was surprised at the question.

"Not a *game*, game. Not something like scrabble or, or chess, you're
far too clever. No, I mean, ah," Joyce blushed.

"What kind of game? Oh, you mean..." Willow realised. Their love making
had been adventurous, and they were both doing things together that
neither of them would have even contemplated before, but... "Oh!"

"But only if you want to," Joyce added hurriedly.

"Yes," she replied slowly. "Yes, we can play a game." Crazy thoughts
rushed through her mind. Visions of ropes and blindfolds. She pictured
herself with her hands tied behind her back. Then Joyce, blindfold, tied
to a chair. Then herself spreadeagled on the bed with Joyce... "Oh!" She
ran to her lover and kissed her. "Yes, of course we can play a game."
She kissed her again. "Tonight." She looked at her watch, "I gotta
dash." And with another kiss, she turned and skipped out the door.

Joyce sighed with relief. Then she realised, too late, that she hadn't
told her what game she wanted to play. 'So why was she so excited? What
could she have thought I meant?' Then it hit her, 'Oh! *That* kind of
game. Oh dear.'

She sat down and pushed at the pot plant until it was squarely in the
middle of the table. 'That *definitely* wasn't what I'd intended.' She
wiped a speck of dust from a leaf. 'Or am I letting my imagination go
too far?' Then a further thought 'And if she is thinking that, then who
would be... Oh dear, what have I done?' She started pacing around the
room. 'What is she going to expect?' straightening a picture frame.
'She'll be thinking about this all day now. What can I say when she gets
back? What will she expect me to say?' moving the pot plant back to one
side of the table. '<Hi, honey, please tie me up and do wicked things to
me>? or <Baby's been a naughty girl. Now Mummy's going to spank you>?'
Neither scenario was appealing to her but, if that was what Willow was
thinking...

'Well, it's too late now, Joyce, you silly thing,' she thought,
straightening the picture again. 'At least she won't pout and stamp her
foot if she's disappointed.' She smiled at the mental picture, then
frowned as it became her resolve face. No-one ever got past her resolve
face. 'It's just two sides of the same coin, really. And whichever side
the coin...' she paused, "...lands on. Well, Joyce, it's not the best
solution, but..."

***

'I am *so* the research girl,' she thought. Giles was in the office
making another cup of tea. Xander was demolishing half the donuts, idly
flicking through the book Giles had put in front of him, nodding
whenever Cordelia paused. And Cordelia was - "I mean! Taffeta. No-one
wears taffeta. And *especially* not nylon. I *mean*." - Cordelia.
Xander nodded.

Willow returned her attention to the book. 'The demon can only be
bound...' and her heart skipped a beat. She imagined herself kneeling on
the floor, hands tied behind her back. She felt a tingle where, right
now, she didn't want to feel a tingle. '...in this plane under the
proper conditions.' Not this demon then, as she read the conditions.

Giles put a cup of tea in front of her. "Tea," he said, glancing at the
picture. "No, that one couldn't come here. The ties..." Willow breathed
deeply, "... to its own realm are too strong." Willow turned the page.

"Ooh!" Xander exclaimed. "Vestigial Virgins!" finding a page more to his
liking.

Cordelia glared at him. "Vestal." She shook her head. "Vestal Virgins.
Like handmaidens for the goddess Vesta."

Giles saw the look. "No, Xander, nothing to do with matches." Xander
opened his mouth. "Or motorbikes."

Willow's mind went back to her classes in Classics. 'Women, pure and
chaste. Their punishment, if they strayed, was to be tied in a sack
and...' Oh my. She was tied, hand and foot, her mouth gagged, her body
straining against the roughness of the sack enclosing her. She felt the
tingle grow stronger and gasped.

Giles looked across at her. Lifted his glasses to see the page clearly.
"He is a an ugly brute, isn't he. Especially when he feeds."

"What? Yes," She murmured, jolted back to the present. 'Of course, the
picture.' She glanced at Xander, 'did he notice?'.

"Hey!" he complained, mouth filled with donut. "Hey! I resent the
implication!"

"No. I..." Willow started.

Cordelia laughed, pleased at the opportunity to try out a few new choice
insults on him.

Willow turned the page, mind elsewhere and barely read the words. 'Got
to concentrate' she thought. She blinked and looking back at the book
'trade in human slaves' leapt out at her. 'No!' and she was naked,
standing on an auction block, iron collar at her throat. Her wrists, her
ankles bound in chains, her legs spread. Women were bidding for her.
Joyce was bidding for her. She looked at their faces. They were all
Joyce. Dozens, if not a hundred Joyces were there, all bidding for her,
wanting her. She clamped her legs together at the sudden rush and cried
out.

She opened her eyes to see Giles and Xander staring at her. She jumped
up out of her chair, managed to squeak "sorry"  and ran from the
library. "Geez, we all have periods," she heard Cordelia say, then "What
are you looking at!" as the doors swung shut behind her. Mentally she
thanked Cordelia's ego as she made her way to the washroom.

***

Joyce wandered around the mall still wondering if she was doing the right
thing. Some of the things she needed to buy would make a big dent in her
bank balance. But the gallery was established now, business was up, not
exactly booming, but up. Then she imagined herself with Willow and how
she'd look, how she'd feel. She felt a little thrill. 'Perhaps I am
doing the right thing after all.'

She knew the specialist retailers were there. It might take her the rest
of the day to find some of what she wanted but it would be worth the
effort. 'Now, let's be logical,' she looked around. 'Start at the top,
work you're way down, and no more seconds thoughts.'

***

She'd never felt more claustrophobic before in her life. Sitting there,
hugging her knees to her, the sides of the cubicle inches away. It
wasn't funny anymore. The initial feeling of excitement had been
replaced by one of fear, and she didn't like it. She reached out and
touched the walls. The feeling of being trapped in the box came back to
her. She shivered, definitely not fun. 'But what am I going to tell
Joyce?'

***

The choice of ties surprised her. She let her gaze wander, looking for
something simple, imagining how Willow would look in each of them,
properly tied, what it would feel like on her skin.

***

Even with the cover Cordelia had given her, the walk back to the library
wasn't easy. She pushed the door open nervously. Xander looked up then
immediately buried his nose in his book. Good ol' Giles just took his
glasses off and began wiping them. Cordelia simply glared.

"Um. I'm. Ah," she waved her hand about vaguely. "Um. Okay? Bye!" and she
span on her heels and quickly left.

"Geez, you'd think she was the only one," Cordelia complained, then
"What I have I said now?!"

***

It was still only mid-afternoon, she kicked at her heels as she walked
down the halls. 'The only thing to fear,' she tried to reassure herself,
"is fear itself. All I have to do is confront my fear. But how?' She
found herself outside the computer lab. 'Oh! Oh! Of course. Thank you Mr
Walpole.'

*

Two clicks to her favorite search engine, b-o-n-d-a-g-e, one click on
FAST search and...

	257808 documents found - 0.0449 seconds search time

	Search Restrictions: Offensive content reduction is On

'Okay, so the net is supposed be to awash with porn, but... and that's
with the filter on? Why am I amazed? Okay. Narrow the search.' The next
search produced only 244 documents. She followed the second link,
swiftly scanned the page and followed the link to a movie clip. Two
women were 'playing'. She browsed the site for a few minutes, becoming
increasingly frustrated. 'So, that's what it *looks* like. But I still
don't really know what it is.' She closed down the browser and the
viewer, logged back in with her teacher privileges and massaged the
logs.

She sat back and thought. 'Why not just trust Joyce? I know I couldn't
hurt her. I know she wouldn't hurt me. Would she?'

***

Ground floor. Collapsing on a seat she surveyed her collection of
packages and bags, ran through the checklist in her mind, and sighed.
So much for the buying.

*

It was strange to see everything laid out on the bed. She looked at her
watch. She had an hour to shower and get ready.

*

Just as she finished her make-up she heard the door open downstairs.

***

"Hi, Hon."

"Hi."

They stood looking at each other, both uncertain.

"Y'know, the game, I've been thinking," Willow started.

"I didn't..."

"I'm not sure I can, you know?"

"Oh sweetheart," she pulled Willow to her and gave her a hug.

"But if you really want to?"

Joyce laughed and hugged her even more. "Oh, Honey, you're so sweet."
Willow looked at her, confused. "When I said game, I didn't mean...
you know! I didn't get a chance to tell you, and I've been so worried. I
guessed from your look what you thought. But I don't think either of us are
ready for that."

"Then what?" she asked. Joyce saw relief, confusion then curiosity on
her face.

"Come," she took Willow's hand and they sat down. "Let me tell you."

***

"So?" Joyce asked, finally.

"Well, I still don't know. I mean, I would never have..." she looked
into Joyce's eyes. She saw the hope, and she knew it had been a long
time. She also knew the honor it would be. "Joyce, would you..."

They started moving all the furniture to the sides of the room.

***

"Wow!" Willow exclaimed, eyes wide, "Joyce!" She looked at the bed and
immediately started getting undressed.

Joyce watched her, smiling. "May I dress you?" she asked. Willow quickly
nodded yes.

Joyce picked up the shirt. Pure silk, beautifully soft, perfectly white.
Willow shivered with pleasure as the sleeves enclosed her arms. Joyce
slowly did up the buttons.

She took the silk shorts and Willow stepped into them.  Slowly she
pulled them up, watching Willow's face as the soft fabric stroked her
skin.

Willow sat on the edge of the bed as Joyce pulled the silk stockings
onto her feet, enjoying the sensation, her toes wriggling in delight.

The pants were well tailored and felt perfect on her. Willow tried to turn
to looked at herself in the mirror. "Hold still, Dear," Joyce told her,
adjusting the cummerbund around her waist.

The shoes were the softest black leather. Willow stood, walked across
the room and back. Joyce's heart was beating so fast she thought she'd
faint. She pulled Willow closer and put the bow-tie around her neck. A
simple, black bow-tie. Deftly she tied it, plucking at the bows.

She took Willows hair and tied it back, above and behind her ears. A
little gel took care of the fringe. Gently she turned Willow towards the
mirror. The transformation caused both of them to gasp. They stood
there silently for a few seconds in admiration. "You look perfect,
Dear." Willow nodded. She used to be self-conscious about her boyish
figure, but looking at herself now... And as Joyce put the jacket around
her shoulders...

"Now dear, you go downstairs, and let me get ready. I won't be long."
She took the cd from Willow's player. "And Honey? Can you set this up
for me? Track eight. To play after the one that's already in there,
track one?"

*

Quickly Joyce slipped out of her bathrobe and went to the wardrobe.
She took out the gown and looked at it. She'd had it for 25 years. She'd
only worn it for that one occasion. Except, every year, on the same day
she tried it on and, as necessary, had it adjusted. She'd known that she'd
want to wear it again someday, and now, with Willow she realised the day
had arrived.

Quickly, she pulled on her stockings, then slowly put on the gown. She
looked at herself in the mirror and checked her hair.

*

"Honey," she called out. "Would you play the first track?"

Willow pressed the play button.  A strong yet gentle sound came from the
speakers. A guitar started on the the main theme, simple, yet insistent.
A second guitar picked out notes as a counterpoint. Then the trumpet
joined in, stronger still.

*

Joyce slipped on her shoes, checked her hair one last time. She stood in
front of the long mirror. 'Oh my!' she thought. She listened to the sound
of the trumpet. So beautiful, so powerful yet so soft. She remembered
the first time she'd heard that tune. Her prom night all those years ago.
She wiped away a small tear and walked slowly to the top of the stairs.
That first dance. Slowly, elegantly, she descended the stairs.

*

Willow looks up at her. 'Taffeta. Pure silk,' she realises. And on Joyce
it's the most beautiful gown she has ever seen, on the most beautiful
woman in the world. She meets Joyce at the bottom of the stairs and
takes her hand. "Miss Summers," she says, "You look... you are
beautiful," bowing over her hand and kissing it gently.

"Why, thank you, Willow," shyly, curtsying.

The trumpet slowly fades and the sound of soft snare drums and acoustic
guitars begin to fill the room.

"May I have the honor of this dance," Willow asks, taking her in her
arms.

Gently they hold each other, slowly swaying until they find the rhythm,
Willow leading perfectly on the right beat, Joyce following. Lightly
they dance to the music with grace and poise, in perfect harmony.

The harmonica joins the tune and Willow turns Joyce, gently increasing
the tempo, gliding magically to the knew energy. Floating on air they
lose themselves in the music and each other. As the harmonica fades
Joyce leans her head in towards Willow, feeling the tickle of the
bow-tie on her neck, just like all those years ago, cheek to cheek they
dance.

As the last notes fade away they slow, holding each other, swaying
gently. Looking deeply into each others eyes they smile and kiss
tenderly.

"Always and forever, my love," Willow whispers.

"Always and forever, my darling."