Author's Note: This chapter includes M, sensitive content. Please read with caution or skip to the next chapter.
Dallas, Texas
April 1979
Bobby was off somewhere, Pamela still wasn't a permanent fixture again, Lucy was rarely home anymore, Miss Ellie supposedly had a headache and had taken herself off to bed, and he'd arranged a long business trip for JR. Unless something went spectacularly wrong, tonight was the night things changed, hopefully for the better.
Changing into his pyjamas and robe, grateful for the looser material considering how tightly wound with anticipation he felt, he knocked three times on Sue Ellen's bedroom door, waiting for an acknowledgement before entering.
"Jock. How can I help you?" Sue Ellen's greeting was to the point as she opened the door.
"Just came to see how you're feeling," he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "You know, being alone, and with your previous ailments."
"I'm fine," she replied.
"No backache?" he asked, fishing for confirmation of what his pharmacy contact had told him, that the backaches were a symptom of a different part of womanhood than he wanted to think about tonight.
"None," she said, her voice cool.
"Are you sure?" he pressed, moving closer and laying his palm over her back. He was aware of how near he was, but even this chosen distance seemed too close for her.
"Jock?" she asked, her brow furrowing.
"Mm?" he murmured.
"I said I'm fine." She gently removed his hand from her back, smiling apologetically.
"I want to," he admitted, appealing to her accommodating side.
"Oh," she said, surprised.
"Let me?" he asked, his voice softer now.
"Uh..." She hesitated. Sue Ellen might not always feel like going along, but in general, she rarely said no.
"I like this time we share," he added, stepping closer.
"Jock," she began, her voice uncertain.
"Mm?"
"I fear I may have set you wrong."
"No, you didn't," he assured her. Where the bigger picture was concerned, he knew exactly what she wanted. She might not want to admit it, but he knew, and he was happy to help. In fact, he wanted it just as much as she did.
"I think I might've."
"There's nothing wrong. Let me show you."
Laying his hand on her back again, he stepped toward the bed, guiding her with him.
He tugged at the tie of her pale gold robe, loosening the bow, then moved behind her. His hands settled on her shoulders as he gently pulled the fabric, watching the silk cascade to the floor. Her arms crossed in front of her, he ran his hands from her shoulders down to her waist.
"You don't need to be shy," he said gently, noting the self-conscious way she held herself.
"Let me."
Aware of his rapid heartbeat and the tightness of his pyjama pants, he willed her to go along with what they both knew could be wonderful.
"Jock..." she whispered, still hesitant.
"Mm?" he murmured, his hands exploring the curve of her waist.
"Stop."
He stilled his hands immediately.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, turning to face him, her eyes wide with surprise.
"What I always do for you," he replied calmly.
"Not this," she said, stepping back and hitting the edge of the bed.
Over time, he'd come to understand her behaviour: she always saved face, aware that if she gave in to what they both wanted, she'd feel guilty and unable to face JR. But if she resisted first, then relented, she could have the best of both worlds. Being Mrs Ewing mattered to Sue Ellen, and pleasing JR was her ultimate goal. Still, she was an individual with needs, needs he could fulfil.
"Not so different," he insisted, watching her sit on the edge and then shuffle towards the middle.
"JR..." she started.
"JR knows," he interrupted. "You tell him, don't you?"
"About the muscle relaxation, not... whatever this is," she said.
"This isn't anything," he chuckled. "Yet."
Sue Ellen looked away. Despite herself, she hadn't run and he knew it was because she didn't hate the idea as much as she felt guilty about it.
"I know how to change that," Jock said, kneeling on the edge of the mattress. He ran a finger down the sole of her left foot, making her gasp and jerk her foot away.
"Jock!" she exclaimed, laughing despite herself.
"It's nice seeing you smile," he said, his voice warm. Her legs naturally parted, giving him a glimpse of what she'd hidden beneath her nightgown.
"That wasn't fair," she said, breathless.
"No, but it was fun," he replied, tracing circles on her inner thigh, making her shiver.
"Where else are you ticklish? Here?"
Adjusting his position and leaning in closer, his fingers brushing her midsection, he narrowly avoided being kicked as she giggled and squirmed beneath him.
"Stop!"
At her pleading request, he lifted his hands off her, taking note of how things had shifted after her writhing. Her nightgown was now bunched up around her hips, exposing her silk panties.
"That wasn't fair, and it wasn't fun. What are you doing?"
"For a moment, you were relaxed," he observed. "I can help you. Let me."
"No," she said firmly.
"That's okay," he said. "Tickling isn't for everyone."
He understood, Amanda had always hated anything that made her feel more vulnerable than she already was.
"No, you misunderstood my comment. I meant to ask what you think you're doing. This is wrong."
As she tried to lay her nightgown flat, she only drew more of his attention to what she was attempting to cover.
"Who says?" he challenged, setting his hand on hers.
"My conscience, my marriage vows, your marriage vows," she listed.
"To love and to cherish," he reminded her.
"Something like that," she replied, her voice small.
"Let me cherish you," he said, cupping her cheek. He kissed her gently, but she remained still, as if she were a mannequin.
"Jock, you're supposed to commit that to your wife, not just anyone you set your eyes on," she said when their lips parted.
"It goes both ways," he countered, kneeling in front of her. "When was the last time JR did anything attentive for you?"
If she insisted on reminding him of his commitment to his wife, he would remind her of her husband's shortcomings. He didn't know the full details of JR and Sue Ellen's marriage, but he had heard enough, read enough, and trusted his intuition, things weren't perfect between them. She deserved the joy of being with a man who put her first.
"That's not important," she said, looking away.
"It is," he insisted. "Spouses aren't perfect. Life gets easier once you realise that."
Taking a page from her book, his hands found the hem of her nightgown, and with a flick of the wrist, he revealed what she'd hidden earlier. He'd seen her go through more than her fair share of bathing suits, studying the shape of her body from afar. But now, he was mere inches away, close enough to commit a better image to memory.
"Jock," she whispered, her voice breathy and urgent.
Goosebumps rose on her skin as his fingers hooked over the waistband of her silk panties. "Let me," he murmured, tugging lightly. He exposed just the upper line of her personal grooming but paused when her hand gripped his wrist.
"Jock, please," she breathed out, her tone pleading.
He met her request easily; there was still more of her he was yet to explore. "Whatever you want," he said softly. His hands roamed over her hips and waist, pushing the nightgown up slowly. He paused to place a gentle kiss just below her bellybutton, aware of the significance her abdomen held for their past and, hopefully, their future.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, remembering how she had changed when she was expecting his first son. It surprised him how unmarked her body was from that experience. But his surprise was one of admiration; he very much appreciated that she'd kept herself looking so nice. It made things easier this time around and showed she valued herself.
"Jock," she breathed again, his name almost a plea now as his hands reached her chest. Her tone was desperate; she knew what was coming, and he was teasing her with the slow, maddening pace of his touch.
He delighted in the fullness of her in his hands, and the sound she made as she arched her back nearly undid him. Rolling her nightgown the last few inches up, he untied the knot of his own robe, discarding it on the floor just as her nightgown reached her neck. Lifting the bunched silk over her head and arms, he tossed it aside.
He leaned down to kiss her again, but her restlessness beneath him made the kiss brief, leaving them both eager for more.
Pulling away, he stopped her when she moved to lay a hand over her chest.
"You're too self-conscious," he said, his tone almost chiding. "JR clearly doesn't make you feel desirable like you should."
"You don't know anything about JR," she snapped, a sharp edge to her voice.
He knew plenty about JR, but wasn't interested in debating it. Instead, he let the topic drop, a sly smile curving his lips.
"You're tense," he observed. "I have just the thing for that."
"Jock…" she started, but he cut her off gently.
"No, no, you'll like this. I know you do. Turn over."
He laid his hands on her shoulders, making a small, guiding motion to go with his instruction, helping her shift so she was lying on her front, something she should be quite familiar with by now, considering he'd had her in this position before.
"I don't…" she protested weakly.
"You overthink things," he murmured.
He moved off the bed to give her room to readjust, shedding another layer of clothing himself. The relief was instant when his pyjama pants hit the floor.
Opening her nightstand drawer, he was ostensibly searching for her preferred body lotion. He paused before finding one, turning at the sound of her gasp.
"Oh my. What happened to just rubbing my back?" she asked, her voice edged with a mix of surprise and uncertainty.
Standing on the other side of the bed, she held her nightgown over her chest, her gaze fixed downward, avoiding his eyes.
"Remember, there's more I can help with," he reminded her gently. "We've discussed this."
He approached her and took her hand, guiding her over to the vanity, leaving her visibly confused.
"I'll rub your back," he assured. "Do you have a preferred option, or will any of these do?"
She glanced at the array of cosmetics, rich body moisturisers and lotions of various scents and descriptions. He waited, letting her choose, as it was her body after all.
"Jock, I won't say anything if you leave now," she said quietly, her voice wavering.
He hesitated, sensing her uncertainty, but he pressed on. He imagined her indecision wasn't just about the product choices before her but about the many choices she faced as Mrs Ewing.
"It's no bother at all," he said firmly. "You wanted a back rub, and you'll get a back rub. This one is lavender, it's always pleasant."
He handed her the glass container to inspect, gently taking the nightgown from her grasp in exchange. With that, he led them back to where they had been earlier.
"Lie down," he prompted softly.
She shot him a look, her wide eyes filled with obvious confusion, as if questioning what was happening despite their prior agreement.
"You've always enjoyed it before," he reassured her, helping her settle into a familiar position.
Her bare back, usually draped in silk, was now exposed, presenting a pleasant view. He spread the lavender-scented liquid across his hands before gliding them over her skin. The sensation was new, the feel of her usually smooth skin now pebbled with goosebumps.
He ran his hands up her spine, over her shoulders, skimming the sides of her breasts before tracing back down to her lower back. He repeated the motions several times, each pass inching lower, until the waistband of her panties slipped down further.
Her pale behind, revealed by the movement, greeted him with an enticing contrast against her tanned skin. The sight elicited a rush of thoughts. He was acutely aware of how little time they had left now, his heart pounding, and a very familiar sensation building within him.
Considering the moment, he increased the speed of his actions, pulling the remaining silk down and off, causing Sue Ellen to gasp. She began to writhe beneath him as he refocused his hands on her backside.
"Now, now, we don't want any accidents," he said with a teasing smile.
Though it was a joke, he wasn't entirely kidding. If she kept moving like that against him, he was liable to lose control, which would ruin his plan, at least for the next several hours.
"I don't think…" she started.
"That's okay, you don't have to," he cut in smoothly.
"No, I…"
"Remember, we've had this conversation," he reminded her, lying down beside her and helping her move onto her side. He slipped one arm underneath her, holding her close.
"You shouldn't be doing this. It's wrong," she protested, her voice wavering.
"It's a biological inevitability, and assuming that biology can be controlled is misguided. However, if you want me to stop, just tell me," he said gently, coaxing her.
He pushed one of her legs forward, his hand brushing against the prickle of neat grooming and the silky warmth between her thighs. This time, it was his turn to gasp in the quiet of the room. If he hadn't been such an experienced man, he might have ruined everything right then and there, overwhelmed by the excitement of the discovery. But he was skilled, and he knew exactly what to do to ensure they both enjoyed the moment.
"Jock," she breathed, her voice stiff and uncertain.
Her reaction only encouraged him. She was so tense, and she needed to release that tension. It wouldn't help her to stay emotionally worked up when she had more important things to focus on.
"You're allowed to enjoy it," he murmured, tracing over her body in a way that made her respond instinctively. He could tell she was fighting what was coming next by the tone of her voice.
"No," she whimpered, squirming against his hold, the sound not quite matching the word she'd spoken. It was clear she was caught in an internal conflict, and he was more than happy to help her decide.
"Tell me to stop."
"Please. Don't," she whispered.
"Don't what? Don't stop, or don't continue?" he asked, withdrawing his hands from her body.
He sat up, unbuttoning his pyjama top, watching her carefully, waiting for her answer.
"Jock."
"Yes?"
Rolling onto her back now that he was no longer there to support her, Sue Ellen looked anywhere but at him when she spoke.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
There were a lot of answers to that question; however, now wasn't the time to discuss them. Their interaction was time-sensitive, both in the short and long term, and that was all he was focused on at the moment.
"We're doing it together," he replied.
"But why?"
"It needs to be done. You want it, I want it, and who are we to deny ourselves? You may not have had time to think it through, but when you do, you'll see that my behaviour is transparent."
"No, it's not." She was a bundle of confusion. Earlier, she had no problem telling him to stop and accepting his explanation when he did. But now, she had no real argument other than calling him a liar, claiming his behaviour wasn't transparent. He knew why, too. She wouldn't say it, but deep down, she felt it, she didn't want him to stop at all.
"I won't force you," he said calmly.
"Won't you?" Her voice was tinged with disbelief.
"You'll enjoy it."
"I only enjoy it with JR," she insisted.
"You can't say that definitively," he countered.
He placed his hands gently on her knees, slowly moving to part her legs. He knew she was lying to both herself and him; she couldn't deny biology, and biologically, she was ready.
"You'll never believe me, will you?" she asked, her voice almost pleading.
"I believe a lot of things," he said softly. "Including that you've always got to give things a chance."
He was certain they could be great together; she'd realise it soon enough. If they didn't come hurry up though, there'd be nothing left for her to want again, the limit for how much longer he could wait was fast approaching.
Watching her roll onto her side again, he took it as a sign of how she wanted to continue. Without further hesitation, he repositioned himself against her back, guiding them together. He groaned with pleasure at the first contact, and then with each movement that followed.
She knew she had a lot of bad qualities: she could be selfish, critical, superior, and when she was in a bad mood, she dragged everyone down with her. She was passive too, passive and polite, qualities she'd once been taught were good. Now she thought differently.
She'd told him no, but never so strongly that he'd taken her seriously. Fear of offending him, of seeming impolite, had stopped her from fighting back with more than words.
He hadn't misinterpreted her. He'd anticipated her resistance, prepared responses for every wall she put up. He'd intended to do what he'd done, and she would never believe otherwise.
Even now, after she'd bathed, changed nightgowns, and moved into the guest room, it was all fresh in her mind, impossible to ignore. She'd let Jock Ewing see her as only JR had, and she'd let him do things to her that only JR had.
The worst part was that the word let didn't even begin to describe what had actually happened.