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Spellbinder, Part One

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Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list December 13, 2000

Title: Spellbinder (as suggested by Helen)
Rating: PG-13 to R
Author: Minnie
Disclaimer: Don't own them yada yada yada
Category: UC - Maria/Courtney slash
Note: Courtney POV
Dedication: To Helen, who is my bitch mentor and who badgered me into writing this one. No, Helen, it's still not done but I will finish it, I promise. Eventually. Heh.

Three months. It had been three months since I came to Roswell.

Three months since I met the person that awakened an almost uncontrollable craving within.

It started the day I walked into the Crashdown, the day we met. I was simply scouting out the place, trying to see what was there.

The place was jumping as tourists and locals packed the place to the rafters, each one intent on getting their share of alien-themed food.

Waitresses dashed to and fro, their antenna head gear bobbing frantically. A random thought passed through my head that the place needed more help.

I sat down at the of the remaining unoccupied booths and waited for one of them to approach me. Not that I was hungry.

So far, the town of Roswell had not impressed me all that much. The alien hoopla was reduced to nothing more than a commercial venture. Oh, the 'experts' fueled the rumors of with so-called facts but those were so bogus, they didn't even merit a second thought. It was all so silly. And so very wrong. None of these experts would know an alien fact, or an alien for that matter, if it bit them on the ass. It was all so boring.

Then something caught my attention and wiped out the boredom.

She walked in from the back room. Long blonde curls. Flashing eyes. Sultry eyelashes. Red, pouty lips. Oh, those lips. Very short skirt. Lovely legs. She was beautiful. Hot. Sexy. Radiant.

My mouth suddenly went dry.

A heated passion seemed to radiate from every pore as she walked through the café. Did she even know it?

My heart started hammering as a tingling sensation coursed throughout me. I almost got up but forced myself to sit down. "Let her come to you." I thought.

And she did. Up close, she was even more beautiful than I thought. Her tiny waitress uniform only accented her slight curves. The teal blue color did not do justice to her flashing eyes. Maria, her name tag said. Maria. The name rolled off my tongue silently and I licked at it lovingly. It fit.

"What can I get for you?" she asked me in a slightly huffy voice. That voice. It brought more shivers down my spine. Sex practically oozed out of that voice. I felt myself starting to sweat. A fever had taken hold.

I gazed lustily on those lips of hers. They were shiny and wet as though she had just applied a fresh coat of lip gloss on them. Ultimately kissable. What had she done to me? In a span of less than a minute, she had me under her spell.

"Look, do you want something or what?" Maria asked. That voice also projected fire. Fiery sex. My palms started to sweat.

"Oh, yes," I replied a little breathlessly then flicked my eyes up and down her form. Yes, definitely.

She sighed. "We're kind of busy right now so if you'd just give tell me what you want ... "

"You ... on a platter," I said.

Maria blinked as she ignored the first part of my statement and concentrated on the tail end. "Platter? We don't have platters. We have some specials." She rattled out the day's special so adorably.

My eyes trailed down to the V-shaped front of her uniform. A couple of buttons were undone. I licked her lips at the thought of what was underneath there. A tiny bra perhaps? Something red and lacy? I swallowed hard.

"Looks like you might need some help," I offered. I had forgotten my original mission in coming to the café. Reconnaisance. The only thing I wanted now was to recon HER.

She saw looking me down her front. Her eyes followed mine and self- consciously she put a hand down her chest and started doing up the buttons.

I almost cried out, "Don't," but she merely gave a weak smile. That smile. Even in its less-than-radiant form, it was still full of life. Possibilities.

"Hello? You gonna stare all day or do you want something?" she hissed at me. Ooooh, she had a temper too. Even better. There was nothing worse than someone passive. My brain leapt with an idea.

"Yes, I want something." Or someone.

I inclined my head at the throng of people filling up the place. The café was hopping and they were barely enough waitresses to keep up with the flow of customers.

"So how about it?" I asked.

"How about what?" she answered back shortly.

"I could help you out. Give you something you need," I said slyly. She simply looked at me like I was crazy.

"I'm pretty good. You should give me a try," I continued.

"You want to help out? Give me your order." She didn't take the bait, merely shoved it aside.

"How about I give you something else instead?" I asked her.

"What?" she asked in shock and inrritation.

"Me. Working here, I mean," The idea of seeing her, working her with her, being with her everyday simply fueled my imagination.

"You wanna be a waitress?" she asked in confusion.

"Oh, yesssss," I took her up on her backhanded offer. My insides practically jumped at the thought of her and me. Waitressing. Late nights. Late nights possibly alone together.

"Talk to the owner," she brought up as she started to move away. I put my hand out to stop her. "I'd much rather talk to you."

"Look, I'm kinda busy right now, okay? The owner's going to be here in a few minutes. Talk to him." Her eyes flashed again with a Leave- me-alone-don't-touch-me look.

I backed off, not wanting to upset her. Beautiful Maria.

Yes, that was the day it all started. I talked to Mr. Parker, gave him a song and dance about my waitressing experience which amounted to practically nothing. He was pretty much a sap and bought the whole story, hook, line and sinker.

It was three months later. Three months of being close to her, seeing her everyday, watching her ignore me, order me around, saying biting things. Was I crazy to put up with it? Maybe. But then again I was crazy about her. Only for her would I detour from my normal direct approach. Because she was something else. She was special.

Everyday she walked in, smelling of some oil or other. I breathed in her scent, hoping it would last until night time when I dreamed of her.

Everyday I saw her smiling at everyone but me. Hoping that maybe one of these days she'd get the many hints I heaved at her lap.

Everyday I wanted her to look at me, to look into my eyes and see what those lips, those eyes, that body had done to me. Reduced me into this mass of lust and love.

I practically paraded half-naked in front of her a few times. "So, what do you think?" I asked her once, dressed in nothing but a lacy white bra, my uniform pulled down halfway to my waist. I jutted out my breasts her to see. I felt rather proud of how they stood out, nipples hardened in reaction to her presence.

"I think you've got some serious flashing issues," she merely remarked.

God I loved her. Only Maria could deliver that kind of line and make me feel hot inside.

Ahh, and did her eyes lock on to my cleavage just for more than a second? I was sure they did. That moment sustained me for days. After that, all my innuendos got bitten back with a cold indifference or with total ignorance. I sulked. Many times I almost abandoned the thought of her, only to be brought back by a random laugh, a smile and quick retort. Many times I thought of ditching the silent subtlety and just planting a big one on her lips.

But it wasn't time. Not yet. A part of me wanted her to want me too. It was perverse, this waiting, this wanting, but I wanted it to be mutual.

But she seemed hung up on the cook. Every time I deigned to talk to Michael, she got all territorial. Michael. Please. Like I would even consider him when she was around. But if that's what got her to notice me, then that's what I did. Flirted with him. Toyed with him. Drove her up the wall. I loved seeing that fiery light in her eyes as she caught me talking to Michael. It made her seem more beautiful than ever.

I sighed. The party for Isabel was in full swing. She was out there, making noises about how Max was worried that Isabel might found out about the surprise.

"Courtney!" Maria called out. I jolted. Her voice always did that to me. "We need the drinks!"

"Courtney, we need the drinks," I mimicked to Maria's words myself. Another order. I huffed, passing a hand over the empty glasses. The glasses filled up with a brown beverage. I grabbed the tray, went into the front of the Crashdown and began serving the drinks, all the while trying to see what she was up to.

She looked stunning tonight. That top of hers showed off the smooth skin of her stomach. My hand itched as I pictured running my fingers over it. All over her. As I had done so many times on many nights. I stared at her for so long, it took me by surprise when Isabel knocked over the glasses on my tray. "I'm just so clumsy tonight," Isabel said.

"I'll get that," I rushed over, trying to shake Maria from my head for one moment. I stared at Isabel. She was pretty too. But she was no Maria.

"Are you sure? I can...I can get it," Isabel hesitated as she stared back at me.

"This is your night," I answered her. Your night which Maria planned in detail. Maria who gushed as idea after idea for the surprise poured out of her pouty mouth and into Max's ears. What I would have given to feel that mouth under mine. I let out a shaky breath. I was becoming like Mr. Serious Moony Eyed Max, just sitting around waiting for something to happen. This was not good. What had she done to me?

Where did she go? My eyes trailed throughout the café but found no trace of her. Maybe she was in kitchen.

No Maria there. Only Michael, baking what looked like a floppy cake. What the hell, wherever Michael was, Maria was soon to follow. It tore me up inside, watching Maria trail after Michael. Watching her dump all her emotions on him and come away with barely anything. Why didn't she drop it? Why couldn't she open her eyes and see what was in front of her? Me. I was here. I was dying for her. I wanted her so badly.

"So, did you, uh, make that all by yourself?," I teased Michael. I was up for a little sparring with Mr. Clueless. Even he had no idea what I really wanted. Maria.

I poked fun at his baking skills. Maria would have done the same. Maria would have probably laughed that tinkling little laugh of hers as she saw how hopeless Michael was at trying to make a cake.

"How's the cake coming?" Maria peeked into the kitchen. Yes, finally she was here.

"It's coming," I responded, trying to project a Go-away-you're- bothering-us tone. That always seemed to get her goat and make her respond to me.

Michael pinned us with one of those I-don't-wh at's-going-on-but-I'm- not-waiting-to-find-out looks. He left us together. Alone. Finally.

"Michael. Taken." Maria slammed her hand down on the counter. " Or haven't you noticed?" She was so gorgeous when she was mad. I could barely take my eyes off of her. The air around us hummed. Couldn't she feel it?

"I noticed he didn't make this cake for you," I said to goad her. There was nothing more I loved than a spitfire Maria.

"It's not my birthday." I knew when her birthday was. If it was her birthday, I sure as hell wouldn't be making a cake for her as a present. I'd be wrapping myself up with a big red bow and nothing else.

"Small detail." But it's the details that count, Maria.

Alex came in and started hollering about something but I hardly paid any attention to her. Not when Maria was shooting me with those killer stares. Her eyes. Damn, she could get me with those eyes.

"Me and Michael go way back," Maria reiterated.

Oh, like that mattered to me. I didn't care what her past was like. Only her present and her future. With me.

"You sew your name into the back of his jeans?" I snapped out. Why did she keep insisting on reaching for something else when I was here?

"You'll never find out," she threw at me. Oh, but, I will Maria. And you will too. You can bet on that.

Alex was still ranting about something.

"One nipple does not constitute a striptease, Alex." The way she said those words, sarcastically, struck me. Was that it? Did I have to strip in front of her? Would that finally get to her?

"Chill out, NYPD blue," Alex's lamenting finally got to me and I snapped at him.

"Chill out? Chill out? I spent $150 to rent this costume. And do you have any idea how it feels to walk around all day with a thong up your ass?"

"Yes," I said. To my surprise, Maria said it at the same time. An image flooded my brain. That wasn't the only thing flooding in me. Maria in a thong. Oh, God. Did she even have a clue as to what that statement did to me? Apparently not because she walked away. Again. The frustration was killing me.

Continue to Spellbinder, Part Two

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