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First and Forever excerpt AKA Victorian Doctor roleplay


Heavy footsteps on the floorboards, then the door swung open to reveal Willow. He wore a white coat and suspenders, and his red hair was neatly combed back.

“Hi, I mean… hello, Doctor.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Cartwright.”

She hadn’t misheard. He was speaking with a soft, Scottish brogue, and as he looked her up and down, there wasn’t any recognition in his eyes. He might have been seeing her for the first time.

Eden’s face burned. “My, um, father sent me to see you?”

“Of course. Come inside.”

He gestured behind him to a wood-panelled room. Eden entered, her heart thumping. The space looked like a dance hall with dusty floorboards and wide windows. In the middle of the room stood what looked like a supermarket massage chair, covered by a sheet. In the corner she saw a wooden desk, scattered with paper and adorned with a vase of daffodils.

“Sit in the chair,” he directed.

Eden moved toward the centre of the room. As she sat, Willow—Doctor Williams—studied her with faint interest. His gaze lingered on her breasts and he glanced away, his fingers knotting together. Eden saw a fat gold wedding band on his left hand and her stomach contracted. Was he married?

Her face heated as she realised she was being stupid. Of course, he wasn’t married. His character was. The thought, along with how good he looked in the white coat, had her fighting back a smile. It was game on.

“Would you like a glass of water, Miss Cartwright?”

God, that accent. It made Eden want to call off this charade and pull his face between her legs. She tried some showmanship of her own. Clearing her throat, she adopted her mother’s cut-glass English accent. “No, thank you.”

A faint smile creased Willow’s lips. “Very well. Try to relax. This isn’t an interrogation. I’m here to take care of you.”

Eden’s mouth went dry. She wished she’d accepted the glass of water.

The doctor paced the floorboards, hands behind his back. “Your father tells me you’re having trouble at home.”

“I… I suppose so.”

“What kind of trouble, Miss Cartwright?”

She leaned back in what she was now positive was a massage chair. “I don’t know, Doctor. I find it hard to concentrate. I sleep lightly and I’m distracted all the time.”

Willow strode to the edge of his desk and sat on the corner. His coat opened to reveal a fitted shirt, tight enough that Eden could see his pecs.

“Are you lightheaded?” he asked.

“Occasionally.”

“Moody?”

Eden didn’t answer. Yes. Her father thought she was moody. Everyone in her family had thought she was moody because she had more than one mood. Cheerfulness, fake or otherwise, was the only acceptable emotion in the Cartwright house.

“Lass?” Doctor Williams’ voice was edged with impatience. God, this motherfucker could act.

“I suppose I am moody,” she offered.

“Do you cry often?”

Eden hadn’t cried for years, but that probably wasn’t in keeping with her character. “Almost every night.”

He nodded curtly. “Your father is also concerned that you aren’t expressing any interest in young men who are coming to visit you.”

He said it straight-faced, without so much as a gleam in his eyes, but Eden’s cheeks burned with the understanding she and Willow were really, actually playing doctor.

“I-I don’t know how I’m supposed to be around men,” she told him.

“A lot of women just enjoy being looked at.”

Eden gazed out of the nearby window, ignoring the modern buildings, the airplane she could see passing over the city.

“Do you enjoy being looked at, Miss Cartwright?”

Eden shrugged, then realised that wasn’t very Victorian. She glanced at Willow. “I don’t know. It’s difficult. Everyone has so many ideas about who I should be. Sometimes I just want to be left alone.”

Willow slid off his desk and walked toward her. “Miss Cartwright, you don’t need to worry about what you should be. You’ll soon have a husband to make happy and children to care for.”

Eden clenched her jaw. That was her worst nightmare—a future out of her hands, paths she’d never be allowed to take.

“Miss Cartwright, what is your relationship with your parents like?”

“My parents just don’t understand me. Most of the time, I want to get away from them.”

Doctor Williams bowed his head, as though she’d said something disturbing. “Miss Cartwright, it’s time we had a difficult conversation.”

“Yes, Doctor?”

His expression grew stern. “Your father is concerned you are… corrupting yourself.”

His voice rasped on the last syllable, as though he could just imagine her doing it.

Eden pressed her thighs together. “Oh.”

“Do you know what I mean when I say ‘corrupting yourself’, lass?”

She knew she loved him calling her that. “I-I think so.”

“And are you?”


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