They’re in the broom cupboard once more.
Cordelia’s down on her knees, with Xander’s jacket wadded up on the floor to protect her brand new, highly expensive stockings. Her cherry lipstick flavoured lips move hungrily up and down Xander’s hot, throbbing dick. He’s groaning and clutching at the shelves.
Just like old times.
Before Willow and that metal bar.
She sometimes wonders what would have happened if they’d gone all the way. Whether they would have gone to the Prom together tonight. What would have happened if she was still dating Xander Harris when Daddy’s little tax thing was found out.
Her spare hand is deep within the folds of the dress he bought her, working away at her damp curls. Glancing up at his strained face, the thought of Xander in that swimming costume runs through her head. Sometimes, late at night, she revisits that image as her loneliness sinks in.
But this will pay Xander back for giving her what she truly wanted – and guess she hadn’t needed that strip of linoleum after all.
She’s Cordelia Chase, dammit – and she will owe no man anything! Even if it was a stunningly tasteful dress…
“Thank you, Xander,” she whispers.