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Without Charlene’s rapid chatter about gauzy drapes and handsome homeowners, the house is blissfully quiet. Mary Jo had been looking forward to this reprieve for days, waiting patiently (and, perhaps, a little impatiently) for the finishing touches to be finalized. Charlene, bless her soul, had wanted to stay until the very last possible moment, but one withering terminator glare from Julia had sent her pouting back to the office.
Mary Jo had never been so relieved, or excited, to see the efficacy of that terminator glance -- especially given that it had not been pointed in her direction. It sends a shiver of anticipation down her spine to know that Julia had wanted this time alone as much as she had.
Her desperation for Julia feels all-consuming. They waste little time before silently walking hand-in-hand to the master suite. Julia takes the lead, settling herself on top of the decadent king sized bed before Mary Jo follows and presses her petite frame against Julia’s solid warmth. She peppers the other woman’s face with soft kisses. “I’ve missed you,” she whispers against Julia’s brow, which softens beneath her lips.
“I know. I’ve missed you too.” Julia grips Mary Jo’s waist, pulling her closer.
There is a time and place for whispered words of feelings and desire, but that time is not now, not in these stolen moments in a borrowed bed. Mary Jo is not often at a loss for words, but watching Julia Sugarbaker’s cheeks stain crimson as her hand rucks up the brunette’s skirt is an image that will stay with her forever.
They don’t have a lot of time -- they never do. It feels to Mary Jo like they’re playing house, snatching scattered pieces of a private life that never feels entirely private. Between Charlene’s ever watchful eye for gossip and Suzanne’s lack of consideration for things like feelings or privacy, they don’t often have opportunities to just be Mary Jo and Julia, two women embarking on something that is starting to feel like more than just a little affair. When Mary Jo considers that their time together, unnamed and unspoken about, could be fleeting, her heart constricts painfully in her chest.
No -- she can’t think about things like a finite amount of kisses or the possibility that Julia’s moral compass may not point in Mary Jo’s direction forever. She wants to enjoy the little bits of happiness that she has while she has them.
Mary Jo kisses Julia hard, unable to refrain from pouring all of her pent up emotions into the embrace. Julia whimpers and opens her mouth, meeting Mary Jo’s tongue with her own. Julia’s fingers tangle in Mary Jo’s curly red hair. Julia loves her hair, loves combing her fingers through it and twisting it around one long, elegant finger when they flirt. Mary Jo has always found her hair to be sort of frizzy and untamed, but Julia makes her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
Julia Sugarbaker sure does a world of good for her self esteem.
Mary Jo’s hand caresses the soft inner flesh of Julia’s thigh, causing the other woman to tremble. Oh, how she loves to make Julia fall apart, loves knowing that she can make this formidable woman lose control. She feels drunk on power, wants to shout from the rooftops that she’s the most powerful woman in Atlanta -- or maybe even the world -- but instead she focuses on doing exactly what she knows will shatter Julia to pieces. She presses her hand inside Julia’s damp, silky underwear, groaning at the realization of just how wet Julia already is. There is something to be said about a stolen moment like this inside the newly decorated home of a rich client -- Mary Jo isn’t sure if it’s the thrill of potentially being caught or knowing that they are getting away with something illicit -- but it certainly fuels her own fire the same way it has fueled Julia’s.
Mary Jo marvels when Julia spreads her legs as much as her skirt will allow and gasps when Julia’s thigh slips between Mary Jo’s, pressing right against her own desperate need. They rock together, Mary Jo gaining confidence as she works her fingers against this magical little nerve -- the very same spot Julia had never known existed until Mary Jo worshipped it with her mouth that first time in the office. Julia arches her hips, chasing the pleasure that Mary Jo happily gives, and driving her thigh hard between Mary Jo’s legs.
They are quiet when they meet like this, all entwined limbs and clashing mouths and wandering hands. Julia prefers it that way. It’s not so much that Julia is embarrassed about the act of sex itself as it is that she doesn’t want to name aloud what they’re doing. To name it would make it real, would mean facing that they are, in fact, having a secret relationship. They don’t always have sex -- sometimes they listen to music and hold hands or go out to dinner -- but they don’t talk about it.
Mary Jo is ready to talk about it. She doesn’t want to play house anymore. She wants the real deal -- the fireworks and the choir of angels singing that she experiences when she’s with Julia are getting harder and harder to hide. She’s never been a very good liar, but she knows that Julia is not ready to come out, as it were, or put a label to what they are. She’s also not ready to put an end to things either, to Mary Jo’s relief.
Mary Jo returns her attention to the present moment and focuses solely on Julia, who is beginning to tremble. She stills her own hips, wanting this moment to be about Julia’s pleasure before she claims her own release. It takes only a few firm strokes before the other woman is falling apart, gasping quietly into Mary Jo’s shoulder.
“So beautiful,” Mary Jo whispers, kissing Julia’s temple. Her own pleasure ebbs momentarily as tenderness wells up within her.
Julia takes only a moment to recover -- she is not a selfish lover -- and begins to rock her leg against Mary Jo’s body. The friction is not quite the same as Julia’s hand or mouth, but Mary Jo can feel the pleasure threaten to reach its breaking point. She clutches at Julia’s shoulders and opens her eyes to find that Julia is watching her. “Let go,” Julia tells her, her voice steady and firm and just a tad more husky than her terminator voice, but it’s enough to send Mary Jo over the edge. She comes with a sharp cry, pleasure coursing through her body.
They stay together like this, silently steadying their breathing, for several minutes.
“I suppose we ought to get back to the office,” Julia says, brushing away an errant curl that has fallen over Mary Jo’s brow.
“Do we have to?”
“The alternative is leaving Charlene and Suzanne in charge…”
Mary Jo nods solemnly. “Not exactly the dream team.”
“No. They’re not us.”
Mary Jo blushes. “No, they’re not us.”
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