“No way.”

“Come on.”

“Kid at the counter?”

“He’s got a Gameboy, pet.  He won’t bother us.”

“Security cameras?”

“Who’s gonna watch security tapes from Kinko’s?  Look, even the name of this place is begging us to try it!”

“It’s a waste of office supplies.  Trees and…stuff.”

“Won’t be a waste.  Promise.”  He took her uncertainty as opportunity, posing her on top of the copier, exposing her skin on the glass.  Before she could object, Spike lifted her skirt, caressed her with his tongue, and hit “Copy.”

“Mmm,” Buffy murmured.  “The Spikester.  The Spikenator.  Making copies at the copy machine.”