THE MORNING AFTER
This is meant as a sequel to my first Phryne and Jack fanfic, 'A nice way to end the day'
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I love Jack and Phryne together and I wish, so dearly, that they would do so in the show.
. . .
Phyrne awoke, her head buried in her dark silk pillowcase and her arm caught underneath a considerable weight. She smiled to herself as the distinctively masculine scent of whiskey and sweat filled her nostrils. She really did not wish to move, she was pleasantly relaxed, but things needed doing. Turning her head she allowed herself to take in the beautiful body of Detective-Inspector Jack Robinson that lay beside her, on top of her arm. A truly beautiful specimen.
Her lips pressed together in concentration as she worked to remove her arm from Jack's weight without waking him. She finally managed but he stirred. Phryne froze. When he settled again she let out a quick sigh of relief before trying to find her feet.
She gave herself another moment to admire Jack's body. A shiver of appreciation ran through her. It pained her to move the sheets to cover his more… manly parts, but she did not want to further corrupt the innocence of her poor maid. The young woman probably shouldn't have to look at the… manliness of her one-day-husband's boss. It was no sooner that she had covered him up that Dot slid through the door.
Dot opened her mouth but Phryne pressed a delicate index figure against her lips before she could say a word. When Dot closed her mouth Phryne whispered, "The Detective-Inspector's had a hard week Dot. Best we let him sleep."
"Yes Miss," she replied, also in a whisper, not looking to the bed. She had seen some of Phryne's previous lovers and did not want to see the Inspector in such a state.
"Now," Phryne said, picking up her silk robe from the ground by the door and slipping it onto herself, "draw me a bath Dot, heavy on the bath salts. And perhaps you could fix Jack's shirt." Phryne picked up the shirt which was missing most of its buttons.
Dot took it from her to assess the damage. "Yes Miss. I'll just draw that bath."
Alone in the room, other than the deep sleeping Jack Robinson, Phryne let herself admire in the mirror the bruises that marked her skin. She judged that her last night's activities had added only a few more to those that had been there previously. Her hair was in an even worst state of repair than it had when she had thought it impossible to fix and she began to doubt even Dot's ability to fix it. Nonsense, she told herself. Dot was practically a magician. Though she would never tell the girl that, she did not believe Catholics appreciated being compared to those in such sinful profession.
"Bath's ready Miss," Dot smiled and creeped out of the room with as little noise as she had entered. She, Phryne mused, had been taking lessons from Mr Butler.
The bath smelt beautifully of pine and Phryne only winced a little as she slipped into it. No pain, she thought to herself, no gain. Soon she would be back to her usual, clear skinned self, ready to be painted with other bruises in further exploits. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift.
Last night, she remembered with a smile, was just about as perfect as nights could be, if you overlooked the way the day had been spent. Phryne was not a fan of dusty passageways in houses that really ought to be reduced to rubble or oversized men without brains who felt they could handle a lady. She huffed in disgust then pushed it from her mind. Instead she focused on her memories of Jack Robinson. The detective, she reflected, was a very suitable lover with a particularly refined skill that she had not expected. The detective had long inspired lust deep within her but she had expected to have to give him a little… training before he'd be at the level she liked in lovers. This, however, would not be necessary. No, certainly not. Jack Robinson sat very high up on her list of lovers and she looked forward to later trysts with the handsome man.
.
Phryne was sitting in her breakfast nook alternating between sipping coffee, black as night and very much resembling sludge – just as she liked it – and taking long drags of her cigarette. Whilst she did this she allowed herself to admire Jack. If he didn't rouse soon she would just have to wake him herself.
As if hearing her private thought, Jake stirred. Phryne wondered if she had spoken aloud. She'd been doing that a little too often recently.
"Hmmm?" Jack asked, not to her in particular, more to himself. His eye opened a smidgen, enough for him to deduce he was not in his own bed.
"Yes Jack Dear?" Phryne asked.
He rolled to look at her, suddenly aware that he was naked. And now that he had rolled, no longer covered even by the lose sheet that Phryne have draped across him. Phryne saw in his eyes, and the light crease that formed on his forehead, that he was considering how to handle this. It appeared that not even the quick-witted Jack Robinson could come up with witty remarks so soon after waking.
"Coffee?" Phryne asked, ever so innocently.
Jack seemed to be considering her. Phryne pretended not to notice. Eventually Jack relented on a sigh and lay back on the bed. He did not, however, bother to cover his body. He had decided that the view of Phryne in nothing more than a light silk covering was not one that would help him keep his composure.
Phryne did not miss his… reaction to her appearance.
"Coffee would be great Miss Fisher."
Phryne raised a perfectly painted black eyebrow. "I think, Mr Robinson," she replied, emphasis on the formal title and just a little annoyance in her voice, as she poured another cup of coffee, "that our acquaintance is adequate enough that you can call me Phryne."
Jack agreed but did not think that would at all help as he struggled to gain control of himself. His body already was not doing as he wished it to. He wished, very much, that he were covered, but would not move to cover himself as he knew such an action would be jumped upon by Miss F- Phryne.
He stood to go and drink his coffee, very conscious that certain parts of him were dangling very much in the sight of Phryne. He took a deep drink of the sludge, made much stronger than what he was used to, and examined the front page of the paper than sat on Phryne's breakfast table.
"No murders today," Phryne informed him, running a gentle hand over the tensed muscle in Jack's shoulder. He tried not to react. Her scent was rather overwhelming. He decided it would best not to look at her, but he could not resist.
"That is, according to the papers," he informed her.
"Well, yes," Phryne agreed. "But," she took the paper from his hands and laid it back on the table, "In my experience if the papers aren't aware of it, it likely has not happened. Plus, it is a Saturday and you've had a rather busy week, have you not? Even detective-inspectors must take breaks Jack."
He turned to face her and she ran a hand over his chest. His breath hitched and he did not bother to hide it.
"I suppose so." His smile was slight but not missed by Phryne.
She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Besides, I have a much better way for you to spend your day."
"Oh?"
"Yes," she smiled, taking his hand. "Come to bed with me Jack?"
"Gladly Miss- Phryne."
"You'll get used to it eventually," she promised and dragged him towards the bed.
. . .
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