Picnic

by "When you first saw me, you thought I was a boy."

From "A Monstrous Regiment of Women" by Laurie R. King:

"Perhaps I ought to mention here that I was at the time not unaware of the entertainment value afforded by the reactions of one's body. The postwar years had brought large number of mature young men into Oxford, and one of them in particular, being possessed of a quick mind, a wry sense of humour, an inexplicable persistence, and an automobile, had taught me a great deal."

Jack Connell ran one last swipe of cloth over the car's gleaming black surface in satisfaction. Perfect. If he was going to spend his days and nights in this quiet, studious, drab place, he'd be damned if he wasn't going to at least look dashing. Now all the car needed to complete his mental picture was a certain willowy blonde in the passenger seat.

The automobile was new, a top of the line Mercedes Benz and expensive as hell. His father had grumbled when he cabled the money from California but Jack knew the family could well afford the cost. Implied in the agreement to buy the car was also a hope from his father that Jack was beginning to recover from the rigors of the trench warfare in France.

He had to admit, the hope had some merit. The quiet atmosphere of Oxford over the past year had been more enjoyable than expected. What he'd wanted to do after the fighting stopped was rush home to California, away from this continent of stilted manners and un-written rules. But his father had seized on the opportunity to get him into Oxford, deciding it would be good preparation for taking his 'rightful' place in the family legal business.

Oh, he didn't mind the studying. He liked a good intellectual discussion. It just seemed during the first few months that these people had no sense of fun. That was until he'd stumbled onto Ronnie Beaconsfield's theater group by accident after catching them in a prank on one of his flat mates. Jack had laughed himself silly at the prank on the man, a stuffy would-be scholar too full of himself to admit the world didn't adhere to his rules.

That chance meeting had led him straight to Mary Russell. He'd watched her that first night as he gathered with his new friends at the pub. Jack was fascinated by her reserve and the fact that although she seemed absorbed in some esoteric theological discussion with a professor, she also was watching the room (and everyone in it) with concealed but intense interest.

Jack was, in fact, a great deal more than intrigued at the hints of mystery surrounding the girl: he was enchanted. Miss Russell reminded him of his older sister's best friend- a free spirited brunette with passion and fire underneath her ladylike manners. Unfortunately, all that particular crush had earned him was a round of teasing from his sister, Jenny.

Vowing to do better this time, Jack engaged Miss Russell in polite conversation and learned she was one of 'those' Russells. She was openly thrilled to meet a fellow Californian and, well, he'd fallen hard, then and there.

Unfortunately, he couldn't tell if she returned the affection. Mary was always happy to see him and he'd coaxed her into several private but very proper dinners but she gave no clue to the extent of her interest. Then she'd disappeared for awhile on some secret errand, coming back withdrawn, tight-lipped, and, to his eyes, a bit sickly. He intended to pull her out of that. That wryly humorous lady he knew was lurking somewhere under her scholarly façade.

The car was part of his plan. It was a gorgeous springtime day, temperature comfortable and warm but not too hot. The sun smiled benevolently over all it surveyed and beautiful fluffy clouds made the sky look like an artist's rendering. It was the kind of day he'd spend riding on his ranch in California. A picnic was in order. A picnic with Mary Russell. Now if she would only agree.

He'd planned well. He'd checked on her classes, to be certain no major papers were due. She couldn't use that as an excuse. He whistled as he walked inside the house and packed the picnic basket. He'd had a nice friendly talk with the local inn-keeper and found out what Mary usually ate in his establishment. The inn-keeper had prepared these sandwiches himself, wishing him 'luck.' Jack said nothing, just flashed a grin at the man. He also added some expensive pastries, and a bottle of wine sent by some friends in California. He wrapped the wineglasses in cloth, to prevent any breakage. They said food was the way to a man's heart but he hadn't yet met the woman who could refuse her favorite lunch plus sweets.

He took a quick shower to wash off the grime from the car. He debated about his clothing, finally settling on casual but neat- khaki trousers and a blue knit sweater. He even managed to get his thick red hair in some semblance of order although that wouldn't last long, not if he rolled down the car windows. The thought of Mary's waist length blonde hair flowing loose in the wind brought a wide smile to his face.

It wasn't precisely that he wanted to seduce her- it was more he considered it a personal quest to make her smile and lift her from the doldrums. He had been tending towards the morose when they first met and her friendship had been one of the things which made him see the world in a better light. The favor needed returning.

He grabbed the picnic basket, remembering a corkscrew at the last moment, and locked up his room. He whistled again as he started the car, enjoying the revving and noise of the engine.

He stopped at Mary's rooms but the landlady told him she was out. Undaunted, he headed straight for the Bodleian Library where she spent much of her waking hours. Jack checked his hair in the rear view mirror before leaving the car. He brought the picnic basket in with him as enticement. She was there, hunched over some ancient text in a language that looked like gibberish to him. He couldn't tell if she was ignoring him or simply engrossed in the words. No need to think negative, Jack. Pretend she hasn't seen you.

"Good afternoon, Mary!" He said, a decibel louder than necessary to gain her full attention. When she looked up, startled, he gave her a wide, honest smile. "I've come to take you away from all this."

She snorted. She had a habit of doing that. "All this is my life's work, Jack."

He closed the book on her, sending dust swirling over his hand. "Not today. Today is the most beautiful day ever and we are going to enjoy it."

"We?" She raised an eyebrow and relaxed back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest.

"We." He placed the picnic basket in her lap. "Surely, even scholars need to eat. And don't you have a fondness for fresh mozzarella?"

The smells from the basket wafted up and she finally looked interested. "You've obtained my favorite sandwiches?"

"And some baked goods." He grinned. "And some wine, too. We're going on a picnic."

"Is there an occasion for this picnic?" Her body language told him she was interested, even if she was still verbally uncommitted.

"Yes." Leaning down close to her, he whispered. "I want to take you somewhere alone, get you drunk, and ravish you."

Her eyes widened and for a moment he thought she was going to be offended at the tease. Instead, she started quietly laughing, putting her head in her hands so the other residents of the library couldn't see.

"Does that mean, 'yes, Jack, I'd be happy to go on a picnic with you'?" He asked, still grinning. It was so good to see her laugh.

"Maybe." He had her full attention now and her gaze was friendly, but assessing.

"If you don't say, yes, I'll start singing. Right here, right now." He looked as if in deep thought. "I can sing 'I am a modern major gen-er-al...'"

"God, please don't." She picked up her books from the desk. "Let me stow these and I'll come."

He took the picnic basket and stayed quietly near the entrance as she put her beloved books away. He studied her approvingly. He had no idea why more men were not interested in Mary. Her face had classic lines, her hair was stunning, and she moved with a dancer's grace. It was true that she made no effort to 'dress up' for men. Today, for example, she was wearing a white blouse, with a matching gray jacket and skirt of simple wool.

It was also true she didn't invite closeness but... Possibly it was because she was Jewish, although most men his age were looking for girlfriends rather than wives and the religious issue shouldn't have mattered that much.

He finally decided she was intimidating. Jack liked her forceful intelligence but there were plenty of men who couldn't handle it. He respected brains and a quick wit- growing up with the glamorous Jenny, who was full of feminist ideals, had left quite an impression on the young Jack.

They went outside and he led her over to the car. He bowed. "Your carriage awaits, my lady." He over emphasized the gesture, making it a tease as he opened the passenger door.

"Where are we going?" She adjusted the spectacles on her nose and looked around at the interior of the car.

"Second star to the right, and straight on till morning." He slid into the driver's side.

"A daytime quote would be more appropriate." She frowned in mock disapproval.

He laughed as they pulled away. "Would 'a loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou' be any more appropriate?"

Another snort. "I thought you were teasing about seducing me."

"I was." He flashed the grin again. Yes, this was going to be a very nice afternoon. "Unless, of course, that's what you would like me to do."

"I would like to find somewhere quiet to eat my lunch in peace." She gave him a mock glare. "Although with you around, I suppose I must settle for simply eating because it won't be quiet."

He put his hand over his heart. "Wounded. I'm wounded. Here I thought it was my dashing good looks that made you agree to a picnic."

"Rather your persistence. And the fact that I'm hungry." She looked in the bag and spotted the sweets. "Are those..."

"Certainly." He was insufferably pleased with himself.

They drove around for perhaps an hour, stopping once at the side of the road so she could take the wheel. The daredevil way she steered the car made him wonder what depths there were to this girl and if he would ever reach them.

Of course, rumor had it that Sherlock Holmes was her mentor and friend. Hard for any man to compete with that. Rumor also said they were more than friends but he didn't believe it. One, he was unaccountably convinced that someone who was said to be as moral as Holmes wouldn't abuse a young girl that way, and two, if Mary had been involved with another man, he was certain she would have made that clear.

What she had made clear was that there were boundaries to their courtship he shouldn't push. He'd obeyed mostly, only occasionally going over the line (like today's picnic) but if he did it in good humor, she didn't object.

It was not lost on Jack that he had charm- he'd learned that in California before he left for the war. His sister said it was because he so obviously enjoyed the company of ladies and respected them, even if his interest was somewhat physical. With the war on and death imminent and French ladies so open about such things... he'd gained more confidence in his abilities with the female sex.

They finally reached a quiet country road, miles from where they had last seen a house or another car. He could see a willow tree at the top of a rise, silhouetted against the sun rays. Mary saw it too, and pulled off the road to park.

"This seems like a lovely spot." She smiled at him, quiet but open. Relaxed, he thought.

He went around and opened the door for her, taking the opportunity to clasp her hand briefly. She blushed and turned away to hide it. Charming. He reached past her and took the picnic basket.

They settled down underneath the great willow's branches, out of sight from the road. The cotton blanket he'd brought in the basket proved to be large and comfortable enough for two. Mary remained quiet through most of the meal and he was content to watch her. When she started on the pastries, she raised her wineglass to him.

"A toast." She challenged.

"A toast is definitely in order." He agreed. "You first."

"To my good friend, Jack, without whom I would have missed the true beauty of this day." Her words were genuine and his heart leaped. As their glasses clinked, he caught her eyes, staring into them, trying to convey wordless feelings again. She blushed and turned away.

"My turn." He looked out over their vista and decided the day had lived up to his boast as 'the most beautiful ever'. "To my lovely friend Mary who has rewarded my efforts today with smiles and perhaps even a little happiness."

She said nothing but preened under the attention. He wondered how experienced she was. Might he be so bold as to steal a kiss? Wait, yet, Jack. You've made her nervous, now.

He finished off his glass of wine, moved the remains of lunch out of the way, and lay down on the blanket, staring up at the clouds. She joined him, their shoulders almost touching. "You're remembering something unpleasant, Jack."

She often seemed to read his mind. "I was thinking the sky would look like this sometimes in France. Then I would stare out at the battlefield and the corpses strewn about and wonder why God ever invented man."

"For someone who works hard to convey the image of a shallow playboy, that is a very deep question."

"Violent death will do that." He kept his tone light, despite the subject matter. "Does the theology major have an answer?"

"The point of theology is more to identify the questions than to provide a definitive answer."

She was working her way up to one of her lectures. He closed his eyes, happy to be swept away by the sound of her voice. It always became so passionate, so forceful when she spoke about something important to her.

"You could say God provided the setting and let man choose his actions," she noted. "But then you would also have the argument of why would God create such a creature as man with base impulses? Why not make man, excuse me, humanity perfect? What is the point of allowing all the death and destruction?

But if you believe in a divine power, then you believe in souls and you know the soul has to pay for the sins of the flesh. If you take away the power of the flesh to choose good or evil, then the soul cannot evolve, cannot become closer to God.

Some Eastern religions believe the soul takes many turns on the wheel of life, learning, evolving until it becomes a higher form of being, or what we, in the West, would call God."

"Like the story of Job? How can you truly have faith until you have been tested?"

"I think so."

"So all this suffering has a point? It was meant to be?" He frowned. "I can't believe it couldn't have been different. Or that God intended for all this tragedy."

"I didn't say that. Only that it could be argued. I think we have free will, the power to do good as well as evil. I have no real answer in my mind for why tragedy happens." She shifted, to loom over him and look in his face. "What do you think, Mr. Connell? You pretend to be uneducated but you have obviously thought about this a great deal."

"I think my poor mind can't possibly decipher it." He smiled up at her. "I only know if I wallow in the destruction then I miss all the things that I do love: the sky as it is today, my horses, my family, and, of course, the company of a beautiful and intelligent lady."

Boldly, he reached up to her and took off her glasses so he could see her eyes. He placed the glasses carefully on the grass above his head. When she didn't object, he cupped her face in his hands and pulled her mouth down on his, intending a gentle kiss. Unexpectedly, she melted at his touch and the kiss turned passionate, lasting far longer than he'd ever hoped.

He shifted, rolling on top of her and continued the kisses. She responded so eagerly that his hands found other places to touch her. His movements tore low moans and gasps from deep in her throat. The back of his mind knew he should stop but he could hardly think through all the desire. His senses told him she was enjoying this, very much.

Damn, Jack. Give her a chance to think before something happens that she'll regret afterwards. He released her mouth, sat up and pulled her onto his lap, taking the opportunity to loosen her hair from its restraints. She took deep breaths as he tangled his fingers in the silken tresses and kissed the crook of her neck.

"Jack?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you stop?"

He couldn't tell if she was pleased or upset. Give her the unvarnished truth. It was the only way out, now. "Because if I didn't stop, we could very well have done something you might regret."

He lifted her chin, meeting those blue eyes with his own green ones. "And because, I... um, this would be your first time?"

She nodded. He continued. "Our setting is fine for most things but... your first time shouldn't be rushed or hurried. Or so my sister insists. We need four walls and a proper bed to do it right." He grinned.

She smiled back. "I am very curious about this amazing sister of yours." She closed her eyes and relaxed against his chest, not objecting to his ministrations to her hair. "Does it... does it feel better than what you were doing?"

"It compares to that like a stream to the Pacific Ocean. Why do you think it's so popular amongst us humans?"

"Oh." She closed her eyes and seemed to be considering something. "It seems a shame to miss it."

"Well..." Hmm... perhaps something could still be done. She certainly seemed willing to try. "I could make you feel wonderful without... without the act itself."

Her eyes snapped open. "How?"

He let one hand glide under her skirt again, past the top of her knee length knickers, not stopping until he reached her inner thigh. "If you'll trust me, Mary, I'll show you. But I won't do it unless you're sure."

She let out a long sigh. "I trust you, Jack."

He could tell despite her words that she was very skittish so he kissed her once more. He kissed her until she started responding again, until she began kissing him back, inexpertly but full of passion. He gave both his hands free rein.

After, she clung to him, totally lost in the sensations. It was amazing to watch her face, to see her drop all the walls and trust him to hold her, to be gentle with her. An incredible woman. He regretted not being able to lie naked in bed with her, to show her all the things that were possible between a man and a woman...

"Jack?" She had found her voice again.

"Yes?" He cradled her, wrapping his arms tight, pulling her close.

"You... I mean your..." She tried to collect herself. "This must be incredibly frustrating for you."

As close as they were, she certainly could feel proof of that. "Frustrating but wonderful. I never expected this. I'm savoring every minute of your company."

"Can I do anything?" She gave him a languid smile, with sexual overtones. God, he could easily be in love with her.

"You're serious?"

"Very serious. You would have to show me what to do but... it hardly seems fair, leaving it this way. Unless you don't want..." She retreated, concerned about saying the wrong thing.

"Mary, that is the best offer I have ever had." He gave her his charming smile. "And I would be happy to oblige with instructions."

She obviously hadn't done this kind of thing before but she was a quick learner and the touch of her hands was light but wonderful. He closed his eyes in deep satisfaction when she was done.

Afterwards, they re-arranged clothing, and he lay back down on the blanket as the sun was setting, holding her against his chest. She was silent, breathing steadily against him. He wished time would stop.

"Thank you, Mary, for what ranks as one of the most wonderful days of my life."

She reached an arm up and caressed his face. "I can safely say I will never forget today."

He made a happy sound at the back of his throat. "Have you ever thought of living in California?"

"My work is here. You know that."

"You could work there. I'm sure your family still owns property not far from me." His mind leapt at the possibilities. "America's not the backward place it once was. There are scholars, academics..."

"And you?"

"And me." He sat up, making her do the same. He put his hands on her shoulders. "Is that such a bad prospect?"

She put her walls back up. So fast. He was losing her so fast.

"It's a wonderful prospect but... I can't. This is where I have to be. Just as home is where you have to be."

"And your Mr. Holmes is here, too." Damn. That sounded spiteful.

She repeated evenly. "Yes, my Mr. Holmes is here, too." She shook her head. "You know I lost my family. He's... he's my family, now, in a way. I don't want to lose that."

"Understandable." He sighed. He might have charm enough to coax her into bed but never enough to coax her across an ocean, away from the things (and the person) she loved. Holmes was a very lucky man.

"Jack, I'm sorry... I do care for you, very much." She touched his face, put her fingers on his lips. "What you did today, I didn't expect... I... it felt... thank you."

He was going to put his best face on this. He was not going to spend the last few months at Oxford in a gloom. In fact, he decided he wanted to spend as much time as possible in her company.

"You're welcome." He stood up, offering her his hand. "Tell me something. If I can't convince you to come with me, can I demand the pleasure of your company as often as possible before I leave?"

"I'd like that." She leaned against him. "I'd like that very much."