by Dolores Labouchere
The trill of the garden birds woke Joyce from her light slumber, and she sighed happily as she looked at the sunlight that spilled across the room, dappled and moving as the trees outside her window swayed in the light breeze.
It was such a nice day, she thought, and swung her legs out from under the covers. She pulled on her black and white robe, then walked to the bathroom, adjusting her Monet print on the wall as she went so it wasn't quite so. . . straight.
She brushed her teeth, and through the minty foam began to hum a song. It was 'Cornflake Girl' by Tori Amos, for some reason. Huh. Well, she always quite liked it. It had been on the radio quite a lot a few years back.
She spat into the sink, and rinsed out her mouth, gurgling the song as she did so. She caught her reflection in the mirror and silently wondered if she ought to get a haircut. Maybe quite a drastic one. Then, with a quick wipe of the towel she exited the bathroom and skipped lightly down the stairs. At the bottom was a little side table on which there was a little Greek statue of a naked youth, pointing his spear phallically. Joyce frowned for the first time that day, picked up the figurine and threw it into the waste paper basket. Then her smile returned and she began to sing quietly under her breath.
"Constant Craving, has alwaaays been"
Joyce walked into her neat kitchen, and began to prepare breakfast, singing and smiling and dancing little steps round the room, little giggles perforating the longer notes. The eggs jiggled in the bubbling water on the stove, and the toast scented the air with the aroma of warm bread, that mingled with the bitter smell of fresh coffee. The tray was piled high with all these foods, and Joyce walked back out of the kitchen and climbed back up the stairs, singing a new song.
"Damn! I wish I was your lover,
I'd hold you til the daylight comes,
Make sure you were smiling and more..."
Wobbling slightly as she balanced on one foot to toe her door open, Joyce entered her bedroom and smiled broadly at the slumbering figure on her bed.
"Time to rise and shine, Kendra! I've made breakfast!"
The Slayer grunted a little and rubbed an eye, opening the other to look at the woman in front of her. The sunlight spilled across her breasts, dappled and moving.
"Dis is not what I expected from Sunnydale," she said, after a moment.
"It isn't what I expected either, darling. But we should celebrate. After all, it's not every day you wake up gay," smiled Joyce, and she sat on the edge of the bed, tray balanced delicately on her lap, and leaned in to kiss her new lover.