Rose can tell that Camille is in a strange mood. She seems happy but jumpy, and she keeps glancing at the doorway as they eat breakfast together.
"Is Mr. Hockley supposed to join us?" Rose finally asks.
"He . . ." Camille seems about to say something, then changes her mind and then shakes her head. "No, he isn't."
Rose diligently works on her calculus assignments with the door of her small study open, and she watches Camille flit to and from Cal's office. It is obvious that he is working from home but for some reason not coming out to join them for meals or take any breathers.
Finally, Camille comes in and asks Rose to please help her bring coffee to Cal and his colleague.
"Oh, I didn't know he had anyone in there with him." This information makes her heart pound, but she suppresses the feelings and diligently accepts the platter with a silver jug of fresh milk and a canister of sugar balanced on it, while Camille takes a matching platter with an urn of black coffee and two mugs.
Rose trails behind Camille until they reach the imposing double doors of his study. Camille balances the tray against her body and knocks with her right hand.
"Come in!" Cal's voice calls out to them.
Rose's heart leaps into her throat when she enters behind Camille.
It's him.
Cal glances up at them. "Thank you, Camille."
She sets one mug in front of each of them and proceeds to gracefully pour them both coffee. "Milk? Sugar?" she asks the other man.
"A little milk," Jack answers, meeting Rose's eyes. She steps forward and awkwardly shifts the platter to her left hand, then gingerly picks up the heavy jug of milk by its delicate handle and bends her knees to carefully pour a bit into Jack's mug. The jug tilts forward a bit too far, and milk sloshes into Jack's mug, nearly overflowing. Rose manages to turn it upright before she spills the milk onto Jack's lap, then places it back onto the platter, her face red. She isn't sure if she's allowed to speak up and apologize, so instead she looks Jack in the eye and inwardly pleas that he doesn't admonish her in front of Cal and Camille.
"Thank you," he says, smiling and quickly sipping from the rim so that his milky coffee doesn't slosh out.
"Yes, thank you," Cal nods to them, then says, "Camille, you may go. Please take Rose's platter with you."
Without a word, Camille takes Rose's burden and carefully walks out of the room, even managing to open the door by awkwardly shifting the platters and closing it behind her with a push of her hip.
Rose remains rooted to the floor beside Jack's seat.
"You remember Mr. Dawson," Cal tells her.
"Yes, Sir," she glances at Jack, drawing up the courage to flash a smile.
"He's going through a bit of an internal crisis," Cal continues.
"I'm very sorry to hear that," she says, glancing again at Jack.
"He seems to be under the impression that a partner cannot be loyal and obedient. He seems to think that it is perfectly natural for them to go running around, without caring for his feelings or needs. He says it's their natural state to play into their whims and put their desires first."
"I didn—" Jack tries to protest, but Cal puts a hand up and continues, "And so Mr. Dawson continues to take back cheating, lying women." He pauses. "What do you think of that, kitten?"
"I think it's unfortunate."
"What do you think the natural state of a woman is?"
Rose takes a deep breath, her cheeks flushed in front of the two men. "I'm sure it's not much different from the natural state of a man. We all want to feel loved, secure, needed, and respected. We all have selfish needs that we balance with love and affection for those close to us, I think at least. I suppose some people, both men and women, are better at balancing their needs and the needs of their loved ones than others."
"What a diplomatic answer. But perhaps we could show Mr. Dawson the other side of the coin? Maybe we could help him become intimately familiar with the idea that women can be loving, giving, open creatures, more than willing to please? What do you think of that idea, kitten?"
She glances at Jack, not sure what Cal is getting at.
"Would you like to show Mr. Dawson just how open and generous you can be?"
"Oh."
"Oh?" Cal raises an eyebrow, challenging her hesitation.
"Yes, Sir, of course I would like to."
"Wonderful." He turns to Jack. "Jack? Any specific requests?"
"No," Jack curtly answers, and Rose senses his discomfort. She wonders why he doesn't put a stop to this, or perhaps leave the room entirely.
"Take your clothes off." Cal's command interrupts her thoughts, and, self consciously, Rose proceeds to remove her stockings, dress, and panties. She stands naked in Cal's office in front of both him and Jack. Her cheeks redden even more than when she almost spilled the milk. Jack does not glance over at her. Instead, his eyes remain fixed on Cal.
"Get on your hands and knees, facing away from Mr. Dawson."
The hotness in her cheeks spreads across her face, and Rose feels a fever heat behind her eyes. She turns away from Jack and gets onto her knees, then leans forward until the palms of her hands rest on the floor. Cal stands up and leans forward to see her clearly on the other side of the desk. "Legs apart," he reminds her, and she spreads her legs as wide as they will go while still keeping her knees bent. Although she can't see him, she senses that Jack's eyes are now on her, or rather on the most intimate part of her.
She feels a feather caress at her hip and knows that it can't be Cal, who's still on the opposite side of the desk.
She shudders.
The touch slides to her waist, where it's matched by a second hand. Jack gently moves her from side to side, still barely touching her. The fingertips brush back down to her hips and then are gone.
"You've made your point, Cal." She hears Jack's voice from behind her.
"Is that all? I can leave the room."
"Don't torture the girl."
"Rose," Cal speaks to her, "do you feel that you're being tortured?"
"No, Sir."
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Do you believe her?" Cal asks.
Rose distinctly feels the light brush of a finger along her right cheek, as if either Jack's hand accidentally touched her, or as if he can't help himself.
"I'm not sure what to believe," Jack answers.
"Well, there's one convenient way to check if she's lying. Touch her," Cal tells him.
"That doesn't prove anything. It's the body's natural response," Jack protests, and yet . . . she feels his hand, this time not as feathery light, but actually quite insistent, immediately going to the dampness between her legs and beginning to stroke.
"Well?" Cal asks.
"She's . . . pretty damn wet." Jack admits.
"That's what I thought."
The finger inside Rose continues stroking, while the rest of Jack's hand presses against her. She can't help herself and begins pushing herself forward and back against his touch.
"Turn around, kitten," Cal's voice commands her, and Jack's hand immediately withdraws. Without getting up from her knees, Rose turns herself to face Jack.
He is standing, however, and, trembling with mixed emotions, she intently stares at his button fly, willing herself not to picture what she must look like or what he must be thinking. She sees a movement in her peripheral vision, and Jack's hand gently tilts her chin up. Their eyes meet, and Rose's mind fills with all the love and acceptance she hasn't felt since the last time she saw her father. She thinks that maybe Jack is not judging her after all. He doesn't want to hurt or humiliate her. His gaze is too tender.
"Are you alright?"
She nods, all "yes Sirs" forgotten.
"Do you want to keep going?"
Another nod.
"Do you need Cal in the room?"
Rose glances toward Cal, and he answers for her: "I think she's a big girl. You can handle Mr. Dawson, can't you kitten?"
"Yes, Sir," Rose whispers.
With a final smirk toward Jack, Cal leaves the room.
Rose realizes she's been holding her breath and slowly releases it. Jack strokes her face tenderly, then begins unbuttoning his pants.
Rose feels as if there are a million things she wants to say to him. She wants to tell him how lonely she is, how she can't explain her feelings for Cal and why she enjoys the things he does to her, how she wants to be strong and independent, that she feels she's talented and has promise, that she's intelligent, physically capable, and that he has the kindest and most beautiful eyes that she's ever seen in her life. Rose's voice catches in her throat. Jack is stroking himself. He places a hand at the back of her head and gently guides her forward. Rose opens her mouth and engulfs him.
Rose loves his scent: forests, wood smoke, musk, and soap. She loves the soft blond down of his pubic hair. She places her hands on the back of his strong thighs and thrusts him deeper down her throat.
After a few minutes, Jack leans back and removes himself from her mouth. Rose is overheated, feels messy, and is disoriented for a moment. Jack picks her up and sits her on Cal's desk. His hand finds the back of her head, and this time she leans forward and meets his lips. They kiss passionately, Jack hugging her tightly to him.
"I never thought . . . I didn't think . . . when I saw you that night . . ." he is trying to tell her something, but he doesn't have the time or oxygen to complete his sentences. "You're the most incredible . . ." Jack pushes her down, and his weight presses her against the desk. His hand ventures between her legs again, and Rose moans.
"You're sure?" he asks.
"Yes!"
"You aren't just doing this to please Cal?"
"No . . . I . . ." Rose doesn't know why she's allowing this. Because this might be her only evening with Jack. Because she sees kindness and understanding in his eyes. Because he makes her tingle in the small of her back. "I want it," she finishes.
Jack slides her toward the edge of the desk and guides her legs apart. He teases her, then gently, with a satisfying thrust devoid of all the pain and inhibitions she's felt with Cal, enters her.
Rose arches her back and closes her eyes, transporting herself away from this dark mansion filled with strangers. She transports herself outside of time, to a place where her life doesn't need to split itself between the Time Before her father's death and the Time After.
Presently, Jack's thrusts slow until finally Rose opens her eyes, brought back to herself. Jack smiles and tilts her chin up, resting his forehead against hers. He keeps his eyes on hers as his thrusts increase in speed and intensity, watching the overwhelming pleasure flit across her face. Their eyes remain locked as Jack continues thrusting into her, anchoring her into the pleasures of the moment, allowing them to build higher and higher, cascading against one another in a frenzy, until they collapse in one another's arms.
Rose clutches him tightly, until finally Jack pulls back and scrambles in his pockets for a handkerchief to clean them both up. She blushes as he wipes her off.
"Please tell me you . . ." his voice trails off.
"I take a little pill," Rose assures him.
He sighs. "Good."
Rose closes her legs and awkwardly attempts to get off the desk while hugging her arms to herself.
Jack meets her in an embrace. "I'm sorry. I don't know what possessed me. I've felt so lonely . . . not that that's your problem. I know it isn't . . . I don't know what to say. I didn't think this would happen."
"Yes, Mr. Hockley has a way of doing that to people."
"Are you sure you're alright?" Jack asks, bringing a hand to her shoulder.
"Yes," she nods. "You make me feel safe. When I saw you at the restaurant, I wanted to know more of you, and . . . well, here we are." Their soft laughter is interrupted by a knock at the door, and Cal enters before giving them a chance to respond.
"Well, well, have you enjoyed yourselves?" he asks, eying Rose, still naked, in Jack's arms.
"Yes, thank you," Jack answers, and Rose steps away and faces Cal, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I—Rose is a very generous young woman. You're a very lucky man, Cal."
Cal nods. "I know it. I think we're about wrapped up, aren't we?"
Jack gathers some of the papers that were pushed aside and slips them into a leather portfolio. "Yes, yes, thank you," he says, turning to Rose, "for a lovely evening."
She smiles faintly but doesn't reply.
Jack nods a final farewell to Cal and leaves the study. Rose takes a deep breath, eager to go to her bedroom and process the evening. She looks up at Cal, hoping that he dismisses her quickly.
"Enjoy the evening?" he asks her.
"Yes, Sir."
"What happened in here?"
"We . . . well, you know. " How much does he want to know? Why whore her out for his sick amusement and then act as if she's jilted him?
"You like Mr. Dawson, don't you?"
"He was very kind with me, yes."
"Would you like to see him again?"
"Yes, of course."
"Well maybe, if you're very, very good, we can arrange that. Now that you're all warmed up for me, perhaps you'd like to show your gratitude for the lovely evening you had with Mr. Dawson."
Rose releases a clenched breath. "Yes, Sir," she murmurs, falling to her knees without being asked.
