Journal Journeys_Was I the First?_T
Approaching their front door, Julia noticed a pang of guilt in her gut. She sighed, admitting it to herself – she felt guilty about enjoying – truly enjoying – teaching her forensic medicine course at the Women's College, at what felt like a great cost to her son at this very moment. It kept her away from the baby even more hours of the day, and making matters worse, she was almost back to working full time at the morgue as well. Deep down, she wondered if William resented her choice, her pursuing her career interests over caring for their son. Julia paused before turning the key in the lock, pushed herself to take a taller stance, to proceed with confidence, albeit somewhat fake at this very moment. She thought to herself, as she stepped into the house, that neither of the women working within had ever seemed to judge her badly for her choice, and, if she were truly honest with herself, neither had William.
Placing her coat on the rack and unpinning her hat, she observed that William's coat and hat were not yet hanging in their place, as she listened for clues as to the whereabouts of her baby and his nanny. Quickly, she noted that Eloise was cooking in the kitchen, the smells registering first, instantly charging her stomach with an awareness of its emptiness. "Not in the living room," she told herself, already turning her attention to the staircase down to the basement playroom. It was not until she was halfway down the flight of stairs that she heard the evidence – Claire-Marie's voice, talking to the, now just over a year-old, baby boy. It was William Jr. who realized she was home first, his squeal of delight and rapid crawling to the steps drawing Claire-Marie's attention to Julia's arrival.
Julia scooped the child up into her arms and gave him bundles of loving. Claire-Marie rushed to tell the baby's mother the stories of the day. "He was so close to taking a step! You should have seen!" she declared. Suddenly a panic swarmed through her. Surely the baby's mother would want to be the one to witness his first steps… "He fell back on his bum, though…" she added, hoping she had concealed the truth.
"Yes," Julia acknowledged, "His usual downfall thus far." She lifted her son away to look him in those beautiful, William-like eyes of his, and explained, "It is a good thing for you, little one, that little babies have such short legs…"
"And puffy nappies," Claire-Marie added, the two women sharing in a laugh.
They headed upstairs, Julia reassuring her son, and perhaps herself, "Don't you worry though, you'll get this walking thing soon enough."
Upstairs, she informed Eloise and Claire-Marie that her husband was engaged in a heroic battle with this latest case, and it was best not to wait dinner for him. Of course, Eloise was well aware of this, a stickler for reading multiple versions of the day's news in the various papers. She had prepared the detective's favorite meal – well at least one of them, for it was hard to tell which of her meals he liked best. She was making an effort to comfort the man after he had been so mercilessly raked over the coals by the press and his superiors and the politicians.
) (
The waft of warm air in William's face welcomed him as he finally made it home and stepped in the front door. Hanging his hat, and then his maroon scarf, he heard Julia call him from the living room, her voice repressing excitement.
"Daddy's home, little one," she encouraged, her fingers clutched gingerly by William Jr.'s plump little baby fingers, the boy standing facing away from her, placing that promising first foot forward and planting it on the ground before letting go of the security of his mother's handles.
Dropping his bulky envelope file to the floor off to the side, his long coat draping all over the floor behind him, William squatted down a few feet in front of her and his year-old son on the living room floor and opened his arms, inviting the baby to step forward.
Wobbly, but astoundingly quickly, William Jr. did just that. One, two, three, four, and he was in his Daddy's arms.
The smiles were huge, expressing their parental joy. "Julia," William, thrilled, exclaimed, "How did you know? His first steps!"
The baby's eyes appeared to be mesmerized by his father's happy face.
It happened so fast, Julia's dilemma, her mind splitting off for a second, wondering to herself if she should tell him…
"Sorry William. Those weren't his first," she almost heard herself tell before she had decided, for William Jr. had taken two steps right after dinner, these four being the baby's second ones…
Just then, William Jr. uttered, his big, brown eyes looking distinctly at William, "Dada," as his chubby little baby finger reached up to explore his father's eyeball.
"You got that first, though, husband…" Julia happily said acknowledging their son's first word, "Um, I mean, Dada." She held out her arms, William ascertaining that she wanted to try to get the baby to walk back to her.
"Mommy wants you, little man," he replied, turning the boy to face Julia, helping by holding his hands high to aid in balancing, "Go to Mommy. Go get your Mama…"
Surrounded by groans of disappointment, William Jr. dropped down to his hands and knees and expertly crawled over to his mother.
"Oh, well," Julia said, catching the child. She stood the boy up on the floor in front of her. "Mama. Mama," she coached him. For her efforts, she got a baby finger poked into her eye as well. Partially to protect herself and partially to delight her son, she stood up tall, lifting him up in the air with a fling and swinging him side to side, playing, and being rewarded with his shrieks of delight.
Picking up the bulging envelope file from the floor, William stood too, undoing the buttons of his coat as he watched his wife and his son. Julia's eyes shifted, becoming fixed on the envelope file, her brain imagining him working on whatever was contained inside of it into the wee hours of the morning, and then she remembered aloud, "The envelope… It reminds me of the night after our green fairy adventures in the park, with the bottle of absinthe…"
Their eyes joined, an anticipation filling the air. Holding the baby on her hip, Julia reached up to slide his coat over, first one of his broad shoulders, then over the other, as she admired his body and spoke, her eyes fascinated by his various manly curves and bulges. She removed his suit jacket as well, continuing, "I had worried that… well, perhaps we would pretend it had never happened. You brought the absinthe bottle into the morgue, removed it from the envelope. Typical, the case seemed to be all that was on your mind."
Julia's eyes lifted to meet William's, entrancing and magnetic, they stung his breath. "William, I don't think I've ever been as happy as I was when you hesitated and then kissed me good morning," she told.
Finding himself speechless, William smiled and bowed and gave her a winsome nod. It made her giggle, and then she gave him a kiss.
Changing the subject, she said, "I waited for you. It's your night for his bottle," getting back to the more pressing matters of the moment. "Do you still want…"
"I do," William hurried to reply, but then his eyes betrayed his inner struggle, glancing down at the envelope file still in his hand.
Julia would help him with his decision, his big, brown eyes jumping to hers.
She sighed, in a way reassuring him, for she had empathy with his troubles. "There will only be one opportunity, William, to feed your son his botte on the night he took his first steps and he said his first word – and it was 'Dada'…"
His mind raced away with a nagging thought at the same time that he yielded to his desires and reached for their son – there may only be one chance to catch this killer too…
Julia took his coat, jacket, and the envelope file, and eased some of his worries, as she told him, "It won't take long. I've already started the bottle… And you can give it to him while I heat up your dinner," her smile warm and loving, brought a sigh of relief to his chest, and a grateful smile. "Eloise made you beef stew," she added as she hung his coat and laid the envelope file on the table in the foyer and the family headed for the kitchen.
Each going about their tasks, Julia teased him as she worked at the stove, "Of course, even Eloise couldn't make a beef stew as good as Mrs. Kitchen's. Speaking of which…"
Julia walked over to where he sat at the kitchen table feeding William Jr. his bottle, the child quiet now and entranced by the pleasant feelings of being fed and loved. She caught William's eye, reached over to run her fingers through his hair. "You need a haircut," she said, her voice both cocky and seductive in tone.
William nodded, his eyes glued to hers. "I've been so… busy…" his tongue had almost said 'distracted,' but he did not want to admit that much to her, "I guess I hadn't noticed it had been so long." William wrinkled up a corner of his mouth, knowing the expression would melt her.
Julia's fingers slipped down to his cheek, explored his afternoon shadow. Passions rose. A question formed on her face and she asked, moving closer, "Does she shave you too, William?"
"Mm," he nodded.
"Interesting," Julia thought, her body responding to the thought of the intimacy of Mrs. Kitchen shaving her William's handsome face whipping up a wave of both jealousy and lust in her.
"Huh," she said, sounding a bit stunned.
William raised an eyebrow at her, wondering.
Giggling at herself, feeling the next emotion sweep through her – embarrassment – Julia responded, "She's a lucky woman." She found she needed to swallow down her strong reaction.
"Is it something you would like to do?" William asked matter-of-factly, reveling in her fingers' daliances on his cheek, his chin, his jaw, roused by the scratchy sensation of his short stubble catching with her touch.
"I would," she admitted, leaning down, coming titillatingly close to his face, tempting him, taunting a kiss.
"Shall we make it a date for tomorrow morning?" he suggested, leaning forward while securing the baby in his arms, opening himself to her advances more blatantly.
"Better on Saturday," she smiled… the chemistry between them sufficing to explain the reasons she preferred the more private and cozy day.
He agreed, and tilted his head, inviting her kiss.
Soft, her lips touched his, her warm breath flowed over his face. It lingered between them, the promise of what was to come.
)
Soon, William Jr. was fed and burped and ready for bed. Julia took him up to tuck him in while William started to eat.
William half-way through with his stew, Julia came back down to join him at the table. He had been reading the papers from this morning that Eloise had brought for him, a generous tradition between the two of them that he quite adored. He sighed, deep and long and troubled. "Tomorrow's will be worse, I'm afraid," he said.
"Yes, I suppose you're right," she answered him truthfully, knowing how much more awful things had gotten since this morning. Thinking that Eloise had made William the beef stew because she knew he was having such a hard time, Julia added, "I wonder what Eloise will make for you tomorrow?" with a cheerying giggle.
Grateful, William smiled. "She is lovely," he said. His eyes dropped back down onto the newspaper.
And she saw a frown take his face. "Don't worry William, you'll solve it," she offered.
Briefly puzzled, but so very charged with excitement, she gazed into his face. There was a twinkle in his eye – so unexpected.
William pushed his chair over from around the corner of the table to place it in front of hers, then reached down and took a firm hold of the leg of her chair, turning it, pulling her close. His chair right in front of hers, he leaned to her, took a curl in his fingers and said, "A wise woman once reminded me that it is WE who find connections, WE who solve cases…"
"My God, she is beautiful," he thought.
Her body tingled with the thrill… he was going to kiss her…
She felt his breath on her, almost felt his lips. "A wise and quite beautiful woman," he whispered, just before…
And Julia's mind raced back and forward as the spin took her, remembering that kiss, outside the opera house when she had told him that they would find the answers together. Oh, her breath raced out of her body, it had been magnificent. And my God this kiss rivaled it.
As their kiss broke off she said, battling to find words, her voice raspy, "I think that was the first time I ever kissed you in a top hat," her smile charming and playful.
"Mm," he agreed, "Probably true." He pulled back, seemed to soak the sight of her in, admiring, cherishing. "Absolutely beautiful," he agreed with himself, remembering her that night, dressed in an elegant golden gown, little flowers sprinkled in her hair, checking over her shoulder before she boldly tucked him against a slightly more secluded wall and kissed him. He had considered proposing then. Intrusively, the memory hit him, Julia showing him the photograph supposedly taken by James Gillies… then the sting of his rejected proposal outside of her home, the floor falling out from under him as he couldn't believe he had lost her again...
Julia too, had remembered the kiss had been photographed, but instead chose the moment to tease him about his lack of enthusiasm for the opera, "Perhaps the kiss made up for your suffering through Verdi's Rigoletto?"
"Tenfold," he whispered in her ear, then kissing and nibbling down her jawbone to take his wife into a deliciously slow and fiery kiss.
) (
A twitch, Julia was suddenly awake. William's lamp still on at their bedside, she realized he had not yet come to bed. He would be in his workroom, she told herself. First, a quick check on the baby, then, down to the basement. She found him there, at his desk, burning the midnight oil, but he had collapsed over the piles of papers… He had fallen asleep.
A somewhat sneaky smile slipped on her face as she thought, "Detective… didn't even loosen your tie." Shaking her head at her husband's buttoned-up ways, she approached.
"William," she said softly, calling him to wake. Tenderly, she slid her fingers into his hair and scratched her nails across his scalp.
He lifted his head, and leaned back into her care.
He anticipated some of his wife's humor, thus he was not surprised at the smugness in her voice as she said, "William Murdoch, I'm pretty sure this is not what they meant when they recommended that if you have a problem you should 'sleep on it."
Endearing really, the way she laughed at her own jokes.
He would give her credit for this one, briefly William chuckled. But he knew the game, following the chuckle with a scowl, which made her giggle in return.
Accepting the need for sleep, he willingly let her coax him to bed. Just a few steps up from the basement, however, he began to tell her, "Actually doctor, I believe you would be fascinated with what I have discovered."
The awe and excitement in his tone paused her there.
He went on, "I was photographing the knife and I thought to use the filter I've been working on… on the camera, to block out visible light from the spectrum, so you can better see the ultra-violet radiation. I thought it would help to better see any blood on the weapon, like when you put it under ultra-violet light."
The electromagnetism, the gravity, the tug, the charge, between them grew.
Showing she grasped his work, she added, "It has been a problem photographing such evidence, the regular light dominating over the glowing ultra-violet under the brightness of the flashbulb…"
"But, well… it didn't work. But Julia," his eyes glittered with the exhilaration of what he was about to tell her, "Well, I was holding the knife… for the picture. And when I developed it… Do you remember…" he held his hand out in front of her, their motion up the staircase completely halted now, "I had badly bruised this hand, all the knuckles…"
"Yes, that famous Murdoch punch…" she nodded, fighting the urge to giggle with the ironic contradictions of her use of the pun of the alcoholic drink, 'punch,' knowing that her teetotaling husband would never himself indulge in such a thing, versus William's impressive talent and prowess as an 'intelligent thug,' one with quite a good 'punch,' in the end. The thoughts were drowned away as multiple memories firecrackered in her brain. One was of remembering the time she had learned of William's punching Darcy while overhearing the Inspector… and then of their huge, horrible fight afterwards. And then another, this one still to this day bringing her to cringe, of William beating the Black Hand man, coming dangerously close to killing him, back when she was helping him fake Anna Fulford's death after the baseball game. Behind those memories played a more recent one, of William's loss of control when Candace Riley had attempted to seduce him in the cloakroom at a charity function, and then the woman had accused William of attacking her when confronted by Mr. Riley, and when William had revealed Mrs. Riley's note as proof that it was Mr. Riley's wife who had done the accosting, the man belted his wife right there and then, leading William to batter Mr. Riley silly… And then that memory triggered another one, seemingly taking her full circle, of William dressed as the Mad Hatter, under the influence of drinking a drugged glass of punch, and then William's punching the dreadful Mr. Littlefair after he had hit his wife, Littlefair ultimately being the same man who had raped and brutalized Constance Gardner, and William being accused of murdering the villain later that night… and William ending up in jail charged with murder, and then Julia felt it – with an ache, she still regretted that she had been too wrapped up in her wedding to help William as she should have back then…
Pushing away from the thoughts, Julia's eyes fell from William's sparkling brown ones, focusing down on his hand held out before her. Certain it was his point, she remembered that just a few weeks ago it had been terribly black-and-blue. Julia nodded, noting that there was no longer any visible evidence left to indicate his hand had been hurt.
William swallowed and coached himself to slow down, anticipating the impact his discovery would have on her and treasuring it, "Well, in the photograph you can see, very clearly, the bruises – almost like a ghost."
"Show me," she said with a childlike glee, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down the stairs.
As he showed her the photograph and they compared it to his real hand, William noticed that Julia had subconsciously reached up to stroke her shoulder, near where it connected to her neck. She was softly rubbing the spot, with a medical precision, examining, feeling for any anomalies in the skin and tissues, sensing for heat, or for subtle swelling perhaps, but finding none detectable.
He remembered, then asked, "Where I bit you… when we were…"
Her smile, a glow that warmed down to his toes, before she replied, "Yes William. That was about a month ago." She decided not to go into how she knew it was a month ago, that she had been particularly… ready. And she was fully aware it was that time of the month again, and she already knew her husband also likely was attentive to her cycles, and thus he knew so as well. "I wonder…"
William's head took to nodding with the extension of her thought blossoming in his mind. "If the ultra-violet filter could allow us to still see the mark in a photograph?!" he exclaimed excitedly, already gathering up the items needed for the test. "We could see if the bruising is detectable even after a month," he added.
"Perhaps even better," she thought, "we could see how it works with a bruise over time…"
A devilish look spread over Julia's face, and as William glanced sideways at her and caught a glimpse of it, his heart skipped and his groin reached, and he found himself captured, stunned, now being her prey just waiting for her attack.
"William," her voice lured so seductively, and she stepped closer, and the world spun, and his breathing raced and barreled, his eyes opened into shimmering pools of lustful wanting. "Perhaps a little experiment…" Her fingers moved to his tie…
My God, he didn't even remember he still had on his tie…
William swallowed, his eagerness sucking away all his blood and his ability to think and all he wanted in the world was to touch her and taste her…
"I do believe my husband quite likes experiments. I mean it was his idea we conduct that first one…" she teased, buttons going, "Remember William, hmm… in the park with the green fairies all around us…"
His suspenders, slipping over his shoulders, then her hands riding his arms to drop them, surrender them… Such a foggy soupiness closing in all around…
William swallowed again, desperation winning over him with the thought, "Suspenders hold up pants…" His knees buckled with the surging of his groin and the swirling away of his head, and the start of the collapse startled him into taking up the fight to regain control. He leaned into the deluging maelstrom, fought forward to hunt for the words, sensed they were in his grasp, solidifying into syllables – speakable syllables, the challenge registering too late, for he heard the dry, scratchy sound of his own voice as he asked her, "An experiment?"
And she giggled, aware of the switch in their two roles compared to that first time.
And he stepped closer, showing he had mastered his own feet once again, and his hand slipped around her waist and he tugged her, loving the way her head snapped back the slightest bit as inertia took her, brought her, to him. "Such an experiment, if I understand your plan, doctor, would involve me biting you…" William's eyes dropped down to her neck, and his blood surged through his every cell on a direct path to his groin, with the memories flooding through him, of biting her while in the throes of extremely passionate, demanding, thrusting, and loving and pounding love.
His stop, his breathing, so enchanting, she struggled for a foothold to give a reply. How tightly he had held her, how deep and strong and magical his sultry lovemaking had been, and then the sharpness, the taking of her, so completely and utterly taking her, with his teeth holding her in place so he could thrust his lovemaking with all his might, and she swooned there…
And he had her, held her against his hard body as she melted. The luscious wave of having to touch each other intimately, to be drowned in their perfect connection – NOW – swept in, and he kissed her, cherishing the feeling of her body growing even heavier in his arms as she succumbed to her desire for him. Yes, this experiment was going to happen, here, and now. Her nightgown, over her head, gone. His trousers, undone, gone. Cold, hard, the surface of his worktable under her bottom, the urgency of their hunger displayed in the sounds of his treasured innovations and evidence clattering away with his shoves to make the needed space. He climbed on top of her. My God those kisses. His body is so hard. The way he molds and pumps…
"William… Oh my God, William… Please," she heard her own voice drift and plead in the hot, moist air around them.
"Slow it down, William," his own voice coached at him. His big arms tight, her supple, soft, body hugged snuggly to him, he lifted and rolled, putting Julia on top. She was in charge. And she was beautiful, so, so beautiful. "How could she be so beautiful?" his mind taunted him. The curves of her… He had to touch.
Straddling him, the sight of William below her, mesmerized and floored by his wanting her, stole her breath away. Her hands explored his body. Firm, and strong, and magnificent, his flesh. She watched, him plummeting away as she took him in hand, held him, tight enough that he was hers, not so tight that he couldn't move.
Up, my God as her fingers rippled over his edges… Down, and the world rocketed away with the scrumptious sensations, and his breath caught and he fought against the moan, yielding in the end, for it was unbearable. Each reverse of direction killing him, completely, totally… and again and again. Julia teased him mercifully, until his body surrendered and he bucked up to her with his pent-up lust.
Making love to her, his heart threatened to burst for he wanted it so frantically, to be making love to her. William drowned under her motions. Such a fight not to thrust up to her again as she wiggled on him, rubbed, and rubbed again, and rubbed again, and her bosoms, so creamy and delicious, jiggled with her oscillating movements and he took the glorious orbs in hand and the flesh squashed and mushed and gave way within his fingers, so moldable and pliant, and he just couldn't bear it. He couldn't. He wanted to touch her, so much more deeply…
Pow, he flipped her and he pressed down on her and he pushed apart her thighs…
Considering the tilt, the abandoned breathlessness of her desperate wanting his love inside of her, Julia still managed to have the wherewithal to do it… as she knew he was about to… oh my God he was about to… "Please…" her anticipation made her moan with the excruciating wrenching of the tighter and tighter knotting of her womb. William lifted and lowered, and touched her lushly to begin, and she anticipated the smothering heat of his lips, velvety, over her neck, her skin tingling, praying, as he opened his mouth to take her and clamp her solidly in place for his lovemaking, and she remembered it needed to be the other side… for the photos. And she turned her head and offered her flesh to him, and he bit in, and he pushed in, the pressure rushing up and biting down to spin her brain with the pleasure of it, and their moans in synchrony flared, and she loved him so much it brought tears to her eyes, and the rhythm started, the push and pull of it rocking her away… Nothing mattered more in all the world than having him touch her. "Don't stop," she whispered, weak, in his ear, the words hammering into his brain and surging him with even more power.
He would never stop, never. It was impossible to love her more, and yet he did, he would love her so hard, so terribly, terribly hard, until… She was right there. He had her. Right there. He pounded and stretched and thrust with every last drop of himself he reached for her. And the inevitableness floated, soaring over the summit, weightlessness with the shift, gravity collapsing… Wham, slow and overpowering, the sheer heaven of it flooded and soaked and steamed and erupted, and exploded outward to fill his every molecule with warm, succulent love. His kisses, worshipping her, grateful to God for her, he tasted the salt of her tears on her face. She loved him, my God she loved him.
Then a little giggle wafted upward, shaking him from beneath.
Her spent, exhausted, breathless voice played, "Mmm, you are a good lab partner. I'd do an experiment with you any time, detective," she told him, her body still squashed and melty and pumping softly now and then underneath him.
Eventually they recovered from the dizzying paradise of their lovemaking and William took the experiment's photographs with the UV filter – one of her old lovebite, one of this newly-made one. He would photograph the fading lovebites with the filter every day to document the progress of the bruising in her flesh, to investigate the innovative technique's use for detecting the presence and extent of older injuries.
) (
Up in bed in the dark in the middle of the night, each of them having found a second wind, and not drawn to sleep, William wondered aloud, "So, as far as lab partners go…" He felt her smile on his chest. Yes, the good doctor did enjoy a little playful mischief now and then.
She squeezed him tighter and threatened, "Dare you ask… knowing you weren't my first?"
The hesitation was riveting, for despite his confidence that Julia had never enjoyed lovemaking with another as much as she did with him, there was still a risk. Julia lifted herself up above him in their bedroom darkness trying to pull as much of him into sight as possible.
Urging himself to produce the cockiest voice he could muster, William replied, "Not the first, but…" He wrinkled a corner of his mouth, almost apologizing, somehow suspecting that Julia knew he did so despite her inability to actually see him.
She chuckled at his brashness. "William Murdoch," she started, "you never cease to amaze me. Does your male ego really need to hear it?"
"Need?" he questioned.
She plopped back down on him, heavier with her contentment. She was having fun and she had decided to give him what it was he so desperately sought after. Unable to do it without rolling her eyes, however, she responded, "Not the first, but the best… lab partner, that is," she added to keep him from getting exactly what he wanted.
As he usually did, he answered her simply. "Good," he said.
Tit for tat, now it was her turn.
"William," she drew him to alert, basking in the resulting stiffening she detected in him as he braced. "Was I your first?" she asked. Immediately, she, herself, felt the terror of his discomfort and in an effort to ease it, she rushed to babble on, "I mean… I know about Ettie… But, well, um… What I mean is, I've never been sure, about… the carnal act…"
She left it dangling there.
Reluctant, William instinctively turned to his interrogation skills to avoid answering. "And how many… lab partners… did you have before me, I wonder," he deflected.
Julia would give, also knowing that, to receive, it is often necessary to give, and she was intensely intrigued. Oh yes, she really, really wanted to know.
Her voice rebounded well, her tone confident and comfortable, but mostly giving that she trusted him completely. "You already know that with Darcy it wasn't until our wedding night…" she felt him nod, "And I… you know I got pregnant…" She waited for him now.
He rolled over on his side, their faces across from each other, breath mingling in the dark. "Yes. But I don't know if it was only the one time, when you got pregnant, and not… if there were others…" William asked, and then unfortunately he needed to clear his throat, "others besides Darcy and the man with whom you became pregnant."
"So, if I tell… you'll tell," Julia laid out the rules.
"Mm," he agreed, butterflies in his stomach.
Subconsciously hoping to reassure him, Julia slid under him. She waited for him to touch her, delightful… he started as he often did, with a wayward curl. She planned. She would be truthful, but unspecific… she hoped. Still, as she started to speak, she nestled even tighter underneath him, wiggling and snuggling into the one place she knew he felt most in control. "I did make love with the man who got me pregnant more than once. All in all, it was…" drat, she needed to swallow, for her voice was growing dry, "… four times." Able to tell that William was about to ask for more details – details which she did not want to share, she hurried to add, "And there were no others until Darcy."
His lips kissed her ear in the dark, traveled kisses to her mouth… covered her lips, so soft, he kissed her, changed the tilt and kissed her again.
Warmth, just a red glowing ember, rising inside of her. She held to him tighter, her want mounting. "I never thought it could be like it is with us, William," she whispered, and then her body writhed under him, her teeth, sharp, sucking his earlobe, taking it in her mouth, promising drowning him in her slippery heat, her breath, surging and flaring, rattled down into his brain, rendering it soupy and swirly, and wonderfully dizzy.
William's hands began to knead and ride her body, only heightening the flames. The wrenching in her womb seized her breath, wrung every drop of her life's blood, moistening her, weakening her.
"William," her smoky call, whispered and floated and pleaded in the dark.
But, it was as he shifted, his hand down over her belly, hard against her hip bone, so quiet his moan, and then down, down, to her thigh, and he pressed…
And her world began to catapult…
But then… she remembered – he didn't tell!
"William Henry Murdoch," Julia's voice challenged as she shoved against her burly husband, shifting their positions, rising up over him as she pushed him onto his back. She loved that he yielded, that he let her. She chuckled, hearing him swallow.
There was a huff from her, annoyed, and invigorated, and having the advantage. "So, you think that just because I told you that you were the best… that I would just melt away with your… attentions… and what? I'd never remember our deal?"
Now, William had honestly not planned it that way, but he had to admit, he would have preferred it. His head shook side-to-side in denial, but no words came, the embodiment of his inner conflict.
His silence only fed her power. "A deal's a deal, William Murdoch. Now spill," she demanded.
Squirming, he was actually squirming. "Why was this so hard for him," she wondered. His struggle only intrigued her more.
Oh, how he hated this feeling, scared, desperate, clinging to any string of hope to get out… My God, he wanted out…
Her husband's reluctance to tell her, his apparent inability to push himself to do so, for Julia knew William well, and he was trying, she was sure of it, it prompted the psychiatrist in her to offer up some ideas. "Shame," the word hit her, he must feel ashamed. But with William, that could be just about anything, a more prudish man… well 'prudish' wasn't quite the right word… maybe buttoned-down, straight-laced, conservative… Julia's brain battled with her thoughts.
"Julia," William's voice asked, called for her empathy and compassion. "I… uh, I…" he stuttered and spurted.
And still, she noticed, so deliciously, he squirmed. Letting him off the hook, she suggested, "How about our journals… Did you ever write about your, um experiences, or lack there of, in your journal, William?" Many a time their journals had opened up their thoughts, easing the negative the effects of each of them so living in their heads.
She had offered up a solution, he was sure of it!
"Um," William stalled, wishing her idea would work, but fairly certain he had not written about his first time. "I um… I didn't have a journal…" There, suddenly, he halted. Her question had been answered, it seemed, and his wife was bright, she would know so. William's heart pounded, thundering wildly in his chest.
"So, he did have sex with someone before me – before his, 'everything but,' with Ettie!" Julia marveled at the discovery, screaming the news inside of her head.
"She's going to ask! She's going to ask! Think of something!" William ordered himself.
Wanting to return the mood to the more playful one of earlier, Julia said, "So you did have another lab partner… for a similar experiment."
"Mm-hmm," he gave, shifting their bodies in the night, reaching for his lamp. He thought he had written, ever so subtly, a brief comment, about it. "Early on," he remembered, "Not after the absinthe, later than that… But it was about Julia, not Enid…"
"Enid," William's voice announced as the light hit the room.
And Julia's heart stabbed, once again hurting with the pain of losing him, of seeing William with another…
William explained, set the context, as he opened the night table drawer and took out his brown-covered journal, "I was with Enid, but I couldn't get you out of my mind…"
Such a lift swept her as he said it, somehow saved, she felt the tingles of knowing it was true, that even then, even when he had taken up with another woman, he had loved her.
"It was when we were working on that case with…" William frowned slightly and continued, "George thought it was a werewolf."
Oh, she remembered it! The puzzle pieces began to shift in her brain. He had looked at her… My God, she remembered. William could look so gorgeous sometimes, absolutely dazzling and irresistible…
He leafed through the pages. "You had found a wolf's tooth," he remembered. "Ah," he said. He had found it. Before reading it to her, he checked. The entry was long, and he remembered that, if he had written about this at all, it had been minimally. He wanted to be certain it was there.
"Yes," he told. Sitting up to rest his back against the bed's headboard, he invited her to join him. She snuggled into his arms, laid her head down on his shoulder, and he held the journal out so they could both see his words. He read the entry aloud.
"Amazing – Enid seeing when I could not, cracking the dam of my denial. Standing with her today in my office, a wolf's tooth…"
William paused, giving Julia a moment to realize that he was writing about her.
"I should have been excited for her discovery and how it would influence the case, instead I was captured by her. A curl, really, just the feather soft inkling that I could touch it, and the flood deluged through me…"
So warm and delicious, Julia remembered the time. She wiggled and nuzzled closer to him. She had felt it at the time, his eyes on her dangling curl.
"A full-fledged fantasy, passionate, wild, out of control, both of us yielding to unspoken, pent-up desires. How I wish it could be so. And then the shift, between knowing and not knowing, such that I could never go back. She's the one. There will never be another. I had always known it. And now I have so much to do. I must be truthful and honest and decent with Enid. I must let her go. Alwin, now that shatters my heart…"
William's mouth wrinkled unconsciously, for he was feeling the regret again as he read. He went back to reading.
I have to figure out this Poundsett situation, and I must be better, be a better man for her, a man she deserves. "Unbridled passion…" How did she say it… when I was missing the point?
Again, William stopped reading, this time turning to catch her eyes.
"Interesting," she thought as his eyes held firm. He wasn't squirming now.
"Savage and forbidden…demanding their complete surrender." I can do that! The prophylactics need to come back… And after that first time, my poor performance… I've got to get better. I learned a lot with Ettie… about bringing a woman pleasure, but that was never with the real thing…
His reading stopped, having come to the end of his written words on the page. It had been brief. He wondered if she had caught it.
Julia teased him, sliding her leg over him, her silky skin touching him just so, "The REAL thing, William?"
True to form, William blushed. He cleared his throat and said, "Feng Choy…" William swallowed.
And Julia tried her darndest not to giggle.
William continued, "I ended up going to Chinatown… after meeting Feng Choy…"
Julia nodded. She remembered the case, a constable from Stationhouse 5 unintentionally killing another constable during a fight.
William cleared his throat again and went on, "I asked him for something to enhance a man's performance with a woman. That's when Mr. Choy gave me the Ishinpō book."
Julia rolled up more on top of her husband and took his journal from him, putting it on the table. She whispered, "Remind me to thank Mr. Choy." And she felt the surge in him, underneath her thigh. "Mm," she rumbled in his ear… so lovely.
Curiosity got to her, though, pushing her to ask him rather than continue seducing him, "Now, tell me about those prophylactics, detective."
William explained that after they had broken apart, he no longer carried a condom with him. "Enid was Catholic," he said, implying there would be no sex before marriage.
"I see," Julia said, slipping and sliding her body succulently over his. "And yet," her words touched with her kiss at his ear, "You did not go to Chinatown looking to better your performance with Mrs. Jones now, did you… hmm?"
Breathless, William answered, "It seemed that if I was going to be with you, it was essential it be earthshattering in quality."
"Oh, it has been detective. Believe me, it has been," she disclosed, tumbling his world with thrill and euphoric joy.
With that, Julia pulled back, returned to her original place at his side, head tucked onto his shoulder. This had all started with a question about his first. It was not yet done.
Her sigh signaled she would breach it. "So, this 'poor performance' you wrote of…"
Quickly, William nodded, accepting his fate. He would tell her about it. "I was very young. Um, working as a ranch hand. Some men were harassing a young woman… in a bar. They… um, they were also ranch hands, and they were using their ropes to laso her and tie her up."
There was a little squirm from him. Julia rode along with it, sticking to him.
After a sigh, for he was about to admit something, William said, "I had been drinking…" He turned to her and their eyes met. There was not an inkling of bad judgement on her face. He smiled and continued. "They started to undress her… and I, uh… I…"
Julia's eyes bugged wide as she lay against him. "His first time! He didn't… Alcohol affects him, true… but William would never…"
"Oh my God, she thinks I…" William panicked.
Straightening up with a rush, William insisted, "No. No, I… uh, I punched the biggest one. I'd done some boxing…"
Julia examined his face perceptively. "Boxing?" she questioned, thinking about how very gorgeous he was and how being so contradicted with boxing.
Raising an eyebrow at her, readying to take offense, William defended, "I've been called a 'pretty boy' more than once in my life." William was finding that it didn't sit well with him that his wife thought of him as wimpy too.
Hurrying to explain, Julia said, "William," her voice took on a scolding tone, "I have seen you punch men. I am not surprised that you boxed. It's just that, well… You would be much less… symmetrical, as Detective Watts says, if you had been punched and battered and bloodied and broken."
"Yes," he frowned admitting it. "My boxing career did not last very long. And I did get beaten up pretty badly that day…" He wrinkled his face considering the memories of his ensuing fight in protecting the woman from his 'friends.' He added, "Most of the blows were gut punches – just one or two to the face. Our boss showed up at the bar and fired his gun into the air. The woman was… grateful, I guess."
How she lit up the world when she smiled like that, William thought.
"Women tend to fall in love with their heroes, William. Don't underestimate yourself," she said.
He wrinkled his face endearingly and admitted sheepishly about his chance with the woman, his internal battle with his embarrassment coming to the forefront, "It was…" he needed to clear his throat as the lovely colors of blushing appeared on his face again, "Um… it was quick… I would say."
Repressing her giggle to save him from any further discomfort, she asked, "I believe that is quite common, William… being too quick. Especially the first time."
Silence for a moment, reflections abound, Julia broke it, adding, "I'm quite glad that I was not your first, after all…" a mischievous smile taking her face, "The price I have to pay for EARTHSHATTERING, I guess."
With that, again, in the middle of the night, for what was likely the millionth time, sparks flew for the Murdoch's. Remarkable, how with the two of them, it could always feel like it was magical, like it was the first time.
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