A/N: I was going to write a completely different angsty fic set after Spikes death but then the idea for this popped up. Spike's back on the Bebop with Jet, Ed and Ein. Faye has disappeared to live life elsewhere. This is set in a massage parlour, and although I don't think it qualifies as NC17 it's a close call. You have been warned.There goes my baby
She knows how to rock n roll
She drives me crazy
She gives me red hot fever and then leaves me in a cool, cool sweat
~crazy little thing called love
Spike blinked as he entered the gloomy room behind the paint peeled door. The sign above had declared it to be 'Masquerade Massage Parlour – Home of forbidden pleasures'. As his eyes adjusted to the light he was a little surprised at just how packed the reception was. Either every other massage parlour on Mars must have closed down, or these girls might actually be quite good.
Sp8ike lit up as he scanned the somewhat eager patrons before him. No luck. The reason for his visit, one Harold Kinter was not here. No Harold meant no 10,000,000 woolong. Spike inhaled deeply, maintaining his nonchalant exterior. He was just going to have to wait.
"Can I help you sir?"
The cigarette dropped out of Spike's mouth as the female voice broke through his reverie. Startled Spike turned to see a petite form perched behind a counter in the corner of the room. A cigarette was nestled between two glossy red lips, while blue eyes stared out at him suspiciously from half shut, heavily made up eyes.
Spike blinked then smiled lazily while running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm here for a massage."
"300 woolongs half an hour, 500 for an hour"
Spike shrugged and slapped 300 woolongs down on the counter. Something suspiciously like a smirk flittered round the edges of the receptions mouth as she handed Spike a ticket. "Wait until your number is called."
Spike turned and made his way towards an empty space on one the tatty green couches littered around the room. With a sigh he dropped down and stretched out, preparing to make himself comfortable. While he reached for a new cigarette with one hand, he held the ticket in the other one. It said number 35. Just then a door opened and a female wearing a porcelain mask stepped out. Her curveaous body was clad in the smallest Chinese style dress he had ever seen. Black stockings ended at mid thigh level, a good two inches below the dresses hem, and at least another six from where the splits started. As her voice drawled out that it was number 18's turn, Spike suddenly became very aware of just how long it had been since he'd been laid. Too long. Spike shrugged and a smile began to flicker at the edges of his mouth. Maybe it wouldn't be such a long and boring bounty stakeout after all.
Faye lit a cigarette and leaned back in the chair as she exhaled slowly. She'd been working for four hours and this was her first chance to actually sit back and put her feet up. She glanced at the clock on the wall. She'd relax for forty minutes then get back to work. After all, her next chance for a break wasn't going to be for another six hours after that. Faye frowned as she flicked away the ash from her cigarette and pulled the paper she'd been looking at closer. This bounty had better turn up tonight. Faye really wasn't in the mood to continue working here for another week.
She sighed and looked at the clock again. Thirty-five minutes left. Faye ground out the remains of her first cigarette and lit up a second one as she rested her feet on the table. After this, she'd grab some food.
Spike had long since given up any hope of reading a magazine, and was currently enjoying a quiet smoke as he eavesdropped on the various conversations going on around him.
"…had her last week. Apparently she'd just started, but you wouldn't know it. I'm telling you her hands are like…."
"…the ultimate in lookers. Wish I could take that mask off…"
"yeah, dress too."
"…I'm telling you, if only my wife could do that I'd be able to afford that new monoracer."
Spike stared up at the ceiling, looking at the various patterns the smoke from his cigarette made as it trailed upwards. Nearly all the conversations seemed to revolve around a particular girl, who seemed to be something of a favourite amongst the cliental. No mention had been made of Harold Kinter, nor had he entered the parlour. Spike had managed to learn that after a massage, clients left through a different route. If Harold still hadn't shown by the time he was called in, he'd have to continue his stake out outside the exit. Spike glanced at a small clock positioned behind the receptionist. He'd been waiting almost forty-five minutes, shouldn't be much longer, number 34 had just gone in after all.
As he reached for another cigarette, the female announcer appeared in the doorway again.
Spike rose to his feet and slouched off after her. He couldn't help but stare at the rounded and pert arse that was wiggling in front of him. He almost stumbled as it stopped abruptly, and he managed to raise his eyes just in time to avoid any embarrassment as the girl turned round to face him.
"If you'd like to remove your clothes and lie down on the table your masseur will be with you shortly."
Spike glanced round the room. A massage table was positioned in the centre, with a table featuring an interesting array of lotions and oils nearby. Soft drapes and quiet music helped to create a relaxed atmosphere. With a grin Spike striped off his clothing and stretched out on the table. He might as well make the most of this.
Faye was touching up her lipstick when the door to the room opened and Ayame stepped in. Removing her mask she flopped onto the sofa and reached for a cigarette. She exhaled and glanced at Faye.
"You're up. Room 3"
Faye grinned as she reached for her own porcelain mask and tied it on. "What is it? Another balding business man?"
Ayame returned Faye's grin with one of her own. "No, you're in luck today. Young and cute, if a little on the skinny side."
Faye laughed as she checked her reflection one last time before adjusting her thigh-high stocking and the hem of her non-existent Chinese style dress. "Mmmm. Sounds like I better make the most of it"
Spike heard the door to the room open and close softly behind him. From his position, face down on the table, he couldn't see the girl who had entered, but he could hear her breathing. Just then a tendril of perfume drifted over to him. There was something familiar about that smell but he couldn't quite place it. It was nice though, quite rich and exotic. After a slight pause he heard soft footsteps as the girl approached the table.
Faye had needed a moment to compose herself after entering the room. For one second she had thought the figure on the table was him. But that was impossible. Spike died a year ago. She admonished herself. But she had to admit the resemblance was amazing. From the fluffy green hair, to that lithe frame, everything seemed so Spike. Then Faye realised. Spike might be dead, but maybe it's time to work out some tension with someone who could pass for him….
With a smile Faye slowly sashayed forward, letting her eyes linger on the form in front of her. She made sure that as she walked past the massage table to load up on some oils, her thighs brushed against his dangling hand. Faye felt his fingers jolt as she made contact, an electric thrill running up her spine. She heard a rustling as he moved his head round to face her. She turned round slowly, making sure to emphasise every subtle curve and line of her body. She almost dropped the oil when she saw the clients face. Even his eyes are the same…
Faye hastily gathered her composure back together and slowly poured oil into the palm of her hand, letting it trickle down her arm. Putting the bottle back down she gently rubbed the oil over both of her hands before moving back towards the man before her. She placed her hands on his back and started to spread the oil over his body until it glistened under the room's soft lighting. As Faye let her hands caress the skin before her she felt the tingling sensation from before. A sudden intake of breath from below her informed her that the feeling was mutual. Faye grinned as she let her hands knead the flesh slightly harder, enjoying the feel of the tense muscles loosening as she rubbed the oil in.
Spike had been quite relaxed to begin with. His hand had been dangling off the table as he waited. Then she'd brushed against it and every muscle in his body had suddenly come alive as a sudden fever seemed to race through him. His fingers closed as he savoured the feel of the cool, silky skin that sent his mind racing. He shifted so he could get a look at the girl. She was standing by the oils, luxuriously pouring into her hand. Her form was encased in yet another tiny Chinese dress, the scarlet satin crinkling round her tiny waist. What looked like an amazing cleavage was only hinted at through a missing section under the collar of the dress. But it was the long legs that caught Spikes attention. Porcelain white, slender and shapely, they were highlighted by the black stockings and killer heels they were dressed in. Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw the oil start to work its way down the girl's arm.
She put the bottle down and seemed to glide towards him, her dark purple hair glinting under the lights as she smoothed the oil over her hands. Spike closed his eyes and gasped as she placed her hands on his back, causing a shudder to run through his body. He felt a stirring sensation from low in his body as the hands continued to move in an electrifying dance on his skin. It felt soo good. Spike felt as though his body was slowly turning into a warm soft mass and melting into the table. Still the hands continued, slowly working their way lower and lower.
Spike bit his lip as the hands brushed over the base of his spine, causing a tightening sensation elsewhere. The warm feeling was slowly starting to spread up his spine in delicious waves as the tantalising sensation of two hands touching him moved down to his thighs. A slight moan escaped Spike's lips as conflicting thoughts ran through his mind. He knew his first priority was the bounty but this felt so good. He was willing to take Jet kicking his arse into next Tuesday as long as he could really enjoy this moment.
Faye let her hands make their way down his back and onto the tight arse in front of her. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the muscular form in front of her. It had been ages since she'd seen an arse as perfect as this. One year in fact. Regretfully Faye moved her hands down to the trim thighs, caressing the tight muscles. A soft moan informed her that her client was obviously enjoying this. Glancing at the clock on the wall Faye saw she had five minutes left. A smile played across her features, she wouldn't do this for anyone but she could pretend that this time, the man below was the one she had loved.
Spike was aware of the warm and tingly feeling oozing out of every pore in his body. He had long since lost all sense of time and place, just enjoying the moment he was experiencing. With a frown he realised the hands had left his skin. Then he heard a gentle rustling of satin as she moved back up. It was then he felt a slight shift as she climbed onto the table and straddled his back. Flipping him over he saw her perched over him, face still hidden by the mask she was wearing. He watched as her hands reached down and started to run lightly over his chest. Her fingers gently teased his nipples as a low groan escaped from him. As her hands trailed down to his stomach the warm feeling grew till he felt like he was going to burst. A sudden spasm passed through his body as his back arched, rising to meet the form above it. Her hands reached for his and guided them onto her thighs when a sudden knock at the door interrupted them.
The girl swung her leg back over him and jumped down to the floor.
"Times up. Thank you for coming."
As Spike watched her leave he dropped his head back down with a groan. If only he'd paid for the full hour.
Jet stared down at his partner. Spike had a somewhat more blank expression than normal on his face, and the long trail of ash still attached to the smouldering cigarette in his mouth implied he'd been this way for a while. Jet sighed, he was going to hope for the best.
"So Spike, heard ISSP got Kinter…we going to be seeing any of that money?"
Nothing. Jet blinked as puzzlement infused his features. As far as he knew, and he had Ed to rely on, no one else knew that Kinter frequented this parlour. So that meant it had to be Spike that handed him over….right?
"Spike! Snap out of it and tell me what happened!"
Spike blinked and dropped his cigarette. "I should have bought an hour."
He turned and began to walk back to his ship, leaving Jet even more confused. "Bought an hour? Did we get our bounty or not? You better have some money pal or it's bean sprouts tonight."
Spike sighed as he heard Jets grumblings behind him. It was going to be a long night….
See ya Space Cowboy,