Chapter 1: Masquerade
It was late and the party in full swing, quite literally. Colourful dresses and black suits swept past him as well-bred ladies and their darkly clad partners moved their limbs in a complicated pattern which had little in common with the waltz he had been taught by his mother many years ago. A masked ball appeared to call for something more sophisticated, Inspector Robinson caught himself thinking grimly. He fished the fifth glass of champagne from a passing maiden's tray and restrained himself from swallowing the bubbly liquid in a single gulp. The wine had already begun to rise to Jack's head and he could not possibly afford to show himself drunk in this company.
Miss Fisher had disappeared more than 20 minutes ago on the arm of the exceedingly handsome James Finch who she suspected to have murdered his business partner. If that had tempted her or the fact that he was an accomplished dancer was anybody's guess. Her red frock appeared somewhere on the opposite end of the dance floor, her head thrown back in laughter. Jack lost his battle against temptation and drained his glass. The black mask was pressing uncomfortably on the bridge of his nose and he, once again, resisted the urge to rip it off his face and end the whole charade.
When Phryne had invited him along to Mrs Stanley's fund raiser masquerade ball two days ago, he had rather hoped it to be another rendezvous, designed to deepen their blossoming love affair. As it turned out, Phryne Fisher was always good for a surprise. Another tray swept past. This time Jack managed to get a hold of a tumbler he hoped was filled with whisky. He took a first gulp without tearing his eyes from the red silk. Apparently she had moved on from Finch to somebody else. The music had now mellowed into a foxtrot, which meant the man's hand was firmly placed on Phryne's back. The fool was wearing a golden mask of all things. She threw a flirtatious look over her shoulder as if she could feel his eyes on her. A cheeky smile appeared on her red lips, which he couldn't help but return. Another glass. Flashes of green, blue and black swept past, causing him to lose sight of the moving couple. Jack inspected his watch. Almost eleven.
A hand touched his arm.
"You are not drinking alone, Jack?" an exhilarated, breathless Miss Fisher asked right by his ear. Her proximity sent a shiver down his spine. He turned. The red silk of her dress shimmered decadently, falling around her curves in just the right way to take a man's breath away. Golden applications mirrored the colour of the mask covering her eyes.
"As I have been abandoned by my companion, I had no other choice, Miss Fisher," the Inspector said dryly.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Jack," she simpered, sipping on her champagne glass. "There are plenty of gorgeous women in this room who would very much enjoy your company."
Her eyes slid down his body as she spoke and he felt a blooming flush on his cheeks, for the first time glad for the protection of his mask.
"Especially Sofia Morelle seems to have taken a keen interest in you. I rather think she hopes to be introduced later on."
Jack didn't answer. Phryne's eyes glittered in acknowledgement of having embarrassed him.
"She is an old friend from London," she smiled, looking at him over the rim of her glass. "And an exceedingly clever woman. A writer and great adventurer."
For a moment he felt as if she was contemplating to reveal a secret, but instead she just looked at him from underneath her lashes with an expression that weakened his knees. He cleared his throat.
"Did your dance with Mr Finch reveal anything of interest?" he changed the subject, once he had composed himself.
"He was not particularly forthcoming," she said, shrugging slightly. "But I happened to acquire this key from him."
She dangled a small, silvery item in front of the Inspector for the briefest of moments before slipping it into her bag. Jack rolled his eyes.
"I will not ask how you have come into the possession of said item. If only to protect my sanity."
Phryne smirked at this, sweeping her eyes over the dance floor where an oblivious Finch had moved on to flirt with somebody else. The Inspector found himself wondering dimly how long he had left to finish his drink before she decided to leave and find the lock fitting the key. But to his surprise, she turned back to him, her mask sparkling in the light and gave him her sweetest smile.
"Would you care to dance, Jack?"
Her voice held so much promise that he could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise. As if she had asked him to sneak upstairs rather than join the hot, sweaty couples on the dance floor. He took a deep gulp of whisky to clear his suddenly dry throat.
"Come, Jack," she said, misunderstanding his hesitance. "They are playing a waltz."
With that she grasped his hand and he had just enough time to dispose of the empty glass before he was forcefully dragged onto the floor. Before he knew it he was wrapped in her embrace and had joined the crowd of dancers, the music flowing along his spine, moving his feet without thought. He didn't come up for breath as they spun in circles under the stars engraved into the ceiling. At the side stood Prudence Stanley in conversation with an old family friend, watching the party in unconcealed smugness. She obviously thought the evening a great success.
Jack wouldn't have argued with that. The alcohol was by now fogging his senses and all he could see were Phryne's blue eyes, looking at him as they swayed and spun, their feet flowing together in total harmony. Another couple brushed past them, barely avoiding a collision. He pulled Phryne closer, the scent of her perfume and her proximity adding to the haze surrounding his brain. His hand had long since slipped from Miss Fisher's shoulder blade and come to rest in her lower back, her breasts pressed against his chest in an embrace so tight it appeared to set off fireworks in his entire body.
"If your hand moves any lower, Aunt Prudence's party might become the talk of the town," Phryne whispered, her breath brushing over his heated skin. "A risk I am willing to take," she added with a cheeky smile. Jack licked his dry lips and wondered if to express his wish to leave for the privacy of her bedroom right now. Knowing Miss Fisher, she may have taken it as an invitation to torture him further than the heat bleeding through her dress was already accomplishing.
The appearance of a grey head of hair, seemingly out of nowhere, ended his contemplation.
"Inspector?"
Jack snapped from his trance. Mrs Stanley's butler, an elderly man whose name he could not remember, looked calmly up at him.
"There is an urgent telephone call for you."
The Inspector barely suppressed a curse.
"Excuse me, please," he begged of Miss Fisher. To his surprise, she did not insist on accompanying him.
The short walk over the terrace to the house cooled his heated flesh a little and helped to sort his thoughts. An urgent telephone call could only mean one thing. Jack felt no desire to deal with a murder tonight. With a start he realised that he wanted nothing more than to dance the night away with Phryne and if the slightest invitation should be uttered, follow her home into her very soft sheets and even softer arms. It had been mere weeks since their first passionate encounter at the Windsor Hotel, but he seemed to have already lost any ability to restrain himself. How he had ever managed to resist her was beyond him now.
His intense longing had cooled down to a gentle burn by the time he picked up the telephone in the hallway of Mrs Stanley's house.
"Inspector Robinson speaking."
A surprisingly bored voice answered him. Constable Jones was filling the nightshift at City South, which the Inspector knew was not his favourite pastime. His young wife also appeared little thrilled with his working late hours, which may have had something to do with the officer's reluctance to embrace them.
"I apologize for interrupting your evening entertainment, sir," the officer said now, not even attempting to conceal his lack of any true regret. "But Commissionar Hall insisted I immediately inform you."
Jack's pulse sped up.
"Has something happened, Jones?" he asked.
There was a brief pause.
"The commissioner telephoned to express that Mrs Finch's father is a personal friend and he would like us very much to not bother herself or her husband with the murder of Mr Streeling, sir."
Jack suppressed the curse lying on his tongue.
"He also added that he would be visiting the station tomorrow to ensure we had solid evidence if we are to continue this witch hunt. His words, not mine, sir."
The Inspector lost his valiant battle against the use of profanities under his breath. When he rang off, fully intent on returning to the ballroom and informing Miss Fisher that they had to find the lock to her key very soon indeed, he was confronted with the butler standing behind himself. The man was holding a full tray of drinks clutched between his gloved hands, obviously on his way to the drawing room whereto the less active of Mrs Stanley's house guests had retreated.
"Is everything in order, sir?" he asked. Jack straightened his back.
"Not exactly," the Inspector explained grumpily. From the corner of his eye he thought he saw a hint of red silk flutter further down the hallway and in sudden resolve made an attempt at brushing past the man and his careful smile. In his alcohol addled mind he miscalculated and brought the silver tray to tumble. With a godawful crash ten glasses and two decanters hit the floor. Jack closed his eyes in embarrassment, apologies spilling from his lips along with liquid over floorboards. As he dropped to his knees to help with the clean up, he felt wetness soak through his shirtsleeves and looked down to find that he was covered in a large portion of the now empty decanter of red wine. His mood was not improving, even as the butler attempted to fight off his help and usher him away to clean himself up.
"This was not quite the form of excitement I had expected," Phryne's calm voice sounded from the door. Jack realised that he was still on all four and hastily pulled himself to his feet, the tray in his hands covered in pieces of broken glass. A maid passed him and relieved him off the tray, but not his mortification.
Phryne's eyes dropped down his front yet again, sparking in him urges he had almost managed to forget.
"I'm not certain Bordeaux is quite your colour, Jack, even though it is a delicious drop."
She licked her lips in a way that would have provoked a blush if he hadn't already accomplished it.
"Mr Peters, would you please source some shirtsleeves that might fit the Inspector," she asked the Butler, who had found his composure again. "He cannot return to the ballroom like this."
"Certainly, Miss Fisher."
Jack bit his lip, battling the almost undeniable desire to flee. Leaving would mean to surrender the hope for a night with Phryne. His body urged him to not even consider that possibility. As if she could read his mind, she took his arm and steered him towards the stairs.
"Where are we headed?" he asked as soon as they reached the landing.
"To my guest room," she informed him with a cheeky smile. His heartbeat wouldn't be calmed at the prospect of being alone with her in a bedroom, but she dampened his erotic thoughts the next moment, by adding: "I assumed you didn't want to change in a hallway, Jack."
"Not in particular," he admitted, contemplating the dangers of kissing her while he was entirely covered in sticky wine. Before he had reached a decision on the matter they already stood in front of a door, however.
Jack found he had a hard time letting go of her. Phryne smiled at him with an expression that weakened his knees.
"You'd better get out of those wet clothes, Jack." She ran a teasing finger down his front. "I'll see where Mr Peters has gotten to."
With that she slipped away and bustled down the stairs. The Inspector stood for a long moment, looking after her, then he turned with a sigh and pushed open the door. He didn't notice the pair of eyes watching him from the shadows.
In the soft light of a floor lamp a large mirror greeted him on the wall of the familiar bedroom, stirring in him memories of long forgotten temptations and mixing with a fresh wave of embarrassment. He attempted to shuck off both, together with his dinner jacket, then loosened his bow tie. Just as he'd reached the last button of his waistcoat, he heard the door opening behind himself, the swishing of silk. He couldn't help but smile. Miss Fisher's dress appeared behind him in the reflection, then a blur of red was upon him as determined hands spun him, his back tumbling against the mirror. Her mouth was on his, her hot tongue urgently demanding entrance. All longing returned with force, flooding his senses. He pulled her close, clutching helplessly at the red silk as she plundered his mouth, her hands trapping him against the glass. She tasted different tonight, like champagne and heat. When she bit his lip, he drew in a surprised breath. But Jack was not in any mood to argue. He spun them, pushing her up against the wall and was about to move in for another kiss when something else struck him as odd. The mask covering the top half of Miss Fisher's face appeared... different. He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth. Where the gold had been a filigree pattern before, this one was solid and what was worse…, the eyes, while blue, were not Phryne's. In shock he made an attempt to retreat from the arms of the strange woman, when his back met solid, warm resistance. A second set of arms caught him, embracing him from behind and trapping him where he was.
"I see you have met Sofia," Miss Fisher said, her tone unreadable.
"I… can explain..." he ground out, but didn't get any further. Phryne's lips brushed his neck, causing him to throw his head back against her shoulder with a groan while Sofia's hands continued their exploration of his body. Jack's head was swimming with sensations and, searching for an anchor, he grasped Miss Fisher's hand.
"Phryne?" he whispered.
"It's all right, Jack," his lover murmured beside his ear. "There's no shame in just enjoying this." Her mouth found his, their entwined hands wrapped over his stomach. Jack struggled with himself. This was debauchery. He couldn't... But Phryne's lips told him otherwise, full of the sweet promises of heaven. She would never allow anything bad to happen to him. Sofia's teasing fingers crumbled the last of his resistance. Jack allowed all thought and reservations to slip away as the hands of a total stranger opened the first button of his trousers, slim fingers wrapped around his erection. He groaned into Phryne's mouth. Miss Fisher's second hand had slipped underneath his waistcoat, now rubbing a nipple, driving him to insanity.
In fact he feared he would lose his mind before even reaching the bed, if he wasn't allowed to come up for air soon. Suddenly Sofia's hand left him and when his lashes fluttered open, he realised that her attention had turned to Miss Fisher. The women were locked in a heated kiss, Sofia's fingers curled through Phryne's bob. For some reason the sight did nothing to calm him, nor did the two bodies pressed against his in an odd, three-way embrace. Phryne's arm was still wrapped around him, not giving him any escape.
He caught a glimpse of his masked self in the mirror, flushed and dishevelled, lost in a whirl of scarlet silk and white arms. A bizarre theatre production as surreal as a dream.
Somewhere in his blurry mind he wondered if this was all Miss Fisher's design, but then Sofia's mouth was on his again, and the thoughts faded away. Her hands grasped his hips, pulling him in and a loud groan slipped over his lips as his heated skin brushed against the silk of her dress. A soft whimper of her own was muffled by his mouth.
Phryne's palm ran over Sofia chest, seeking the buttons to undo her dress, but lingered to tease the hard nipples pressing through the fabric. Finally she succeeded. The red silk folded at the woman's feet with a soft swish.
"You naughty thing," Phryne breathed beside Jack's ear. His tongue wet his dry lips when he realised what she was referring to. No camisole prevented access to Sofia's gorgeous body. Her creamy skin was just a shade darker than Phryne's, her breasts larger. The longer he looked the more differences he found. Jack couldn't shake the mortification about having confused the two, but then, he had been sidetracked by a mouth claiming his and the assumption that Miss Fisher would be the only woman cheeky enough to do so. Sofia smiled a red lipped smile when she felt his eyes roaming her curves.
In sudden brevity, Jack pulled her close, hungrily licking at her throat, his hands exploring her back, slipping lower. Her groan sent a shiver down his spine. Phryne's fingers had found an agenda of their own, ridding him of his shirtsleeves, her lips returning to his neck. Within the ocean of sensations, Jack had almost missed the second set of hands fumbling with the buttons of his suspenders. The sudden brush of cold air heightened his senses, made the hair on his neck stand up, where Phryne was tracing small bites along his shoulder. He reached up to pull her in for another kiss, detaching himself long enough from Sofia to allow her to take advantage of his now exposed collar bone. The loud moan her lips drew from him seemed to excite at least one of his companions.
"Bed," Phryne gasped into his mouth. Nobody dared argue with her sentiment.
In a complicated, tangled dance of hands, lips and bodies they managed the few steps and crashed onto the sheets. Jack had a brief moment to contemplate the propriety of doing this in Mrs Stanley's house of all places, then his senses threatened to fade when a hot mouth wrapped around his cock. His head had come to lie on a thigh which was still covered in silk, indicating the woman currently kneeling between his legs had to be Sofia. He managed to pry open his eyes long enough to find Phryne's. She was looking down at him in a mixture of love and arousal, her irises almost black and he couldn't resist the urge to reach out his hand and touch her cheek, trailing his fingertips down her neck. Her eyes fell shut as she enjoyed his attentions before his trembling fingers finally reached the spot he was looking for. The silk gave way, revealing a camisole the colour of peaches, barely hiding the treasures underneath. Her hand had again found his chest, fingertips stroking, teasing, titillating every nerve ending. Jack arched his back as a particularly skilful swirl of Sofia's tongue took his breath away. She smiled around him and picked up speed. A nail grazed Jack's nipple, drawing another desperate groan from him. As pleasure began to overwhelm his senses, he grasped longingly for Phryne's hand. She pressed his sweaty palm. Her hair tickled his cheek as she leaned down to kiss him.
Sofia's mouth was incredibly hot, her nails scratching the sensitive skin of his thighs. Jack bucked up against her with a loud groan. It was too much. Too fast. He wasn't ready and yet the end was inevitably crashing down on him.
Suddenly slim fingers wrapped around him, squeezing hard. The orgasm, so close he could have grasped it, blurred at the edges, dissolved into blots of colour behind his lashes. Heavily breathing, Jack fell back into the pillows, groaned in a mixture of disappointment and relief. Slowly his breath evened, while Phryne peppered kisses over his face.
Then her lips were gone. Jack, bereft of their touch, felt the women shift on the bed, but for a long moment was incapable of opening his eyes. When he finally did manage, he discovered Sofia pulling Phryne's camisole over her head and latching onto a hard nipple. Phryne threw her head back in a mixture of a moan and a giggle. The exploring tongue slipped lower, trailing a line down to her navel. Phryne's hand played with the other woman's hair, twirling a strain around her finger, while she gave herself to the attentions with closed eyes. Jack didn't dare stir, just watched in breathless silence as Phryne's fingers curled into Sofia's dark hair and pulled her into a deep kiss, her second hand softly stroking a breast, while the other woman's hands were exploring the curve of her back in return. There was something intensely erotic about watching the two women in their sensual embrace and his fingertips found his neglected erection. But there was something else, a faint stirring of jealousy, right in the pit of his stomach. Before thought had caught up, he was kneeling, claiming Phryne's lips in a kiss, while his fingers lazily wrapped around Sofia's waist.
"I apologize for not properly introducing myself," Sofia murmured right beside his ear, "but I just had to have you." Any answer he could have uttered drowned in lighting shooting down his spine when she nibbled his earlobe. Jack bit down on Phryne's lip before he caught himself. Their simultaneous groan caused Sofia's hips to jerk against him.
"You'll have no regrets, I promise," she added hoarsely, running her tongue down his neck.
Jack was beyond arguing. Sofia's hand was massaging his backside, Phryne's fingers had wrapped around him, stroking him slowly. He could already sense his lust layering up dangerously again. Panting, Jack retreated, peeled her fingers from himself and gently pushed her back into the pillows before relieving her of her last items of clothing. Sofia watched the couple with the hungry expression of a starving woman. Phryne's eyes closed in anticipation as Jack covered her body with his and sucked a nipple between his lips. This he knew, despite being still an enthusiastic pupil of Phryne's adventurous bedroom activities. And if he just sucked the sweet scent of her skin into his lungs and brushed his lips over her warm skin, her fingers buried in his hair, her quiet moans in his ears, he could almost pretend that there wasn't another, tantalising hand stroking his shoulders, no nails trailing down his spine, no stranger's leg entwined with his. Jack had never, ever imagined he would end up here, in Mrs Stanley's disgustingly soft pillows, wedged between the hot, sweaty limbs of two women. But neither could he deny that every fibre of his body was burning with lust. If his mother could see him like this... A sudden wave of guilt and embarrassment threatened to bury him underneath it.
He glanced at Phryne, her flushed breasts heaving with arousal under Sofia's touch and his own ministrations. She looked back at him with dark, glazed eyes. The overwhelming desire to undo her completely overrode his shame and he finally dipped his head between her legs. A loud groan answered him as she tensed against him. With strong hands he held her hips steady in order to reach all the spots he knew to unravel her, while she writhed against him. Out of the corner of his eyes, Jack saw her fingers slip between Sofia's thighs. His hips involuntarily jerked against the sheets in reaction to a desperate moan above him, but he didn't allow himself to let his attention drift off the task at hand.
Two sets of heavy moans grew into a beautiful symphony in his ears. Sweat was pouring down Jack's back when Phryne's legs finally began to tremble around him. He himself was so hard he was aching, but nevertheless determined. A last skilful swipe of his tongue and she rose of the mattress, her hand clenching into the sheets. The sight of her orgasm was Sofia's undoing. Her cry was muffled by Phryne's left breast as she trembled against her, both women toppling with only moments between them. Jack saw stars as a careless limb brushed his cock. He collapsed onto Phryne, drawing ragged breaths saturated with her heady scent. For what felt like an eternity, the only sound were three sets of lungs being hastily filled with air. Jack, his cheek still pressed to Phryne's thigh, didn't stir. He didn't feel he could take much more, every inch of his body strained for release.
Gently hands guided him onto his back. He allowed them to without opening his eyes. Someone curled into his side, he wasn't sure who, but he held on all the same. Another mouth approached from the other side, kissed him deeply. This one was definitely Phryne and he pulled her to himself where she came to lie half on top of him. She brushed gentle kisses along his jawline and he raised his head to give her better access. Then she slipped away and through blurry eyes he watched the women exchange a kiss above him, both still heated and flushed. Sofia's hand had found his balls, gently caressing the tender skin. Jack bit his lip, willing her to stop but unable to bring out the words. He didn't want to spend himself onto her hands. He wanted… He swallowed hard, wondering if he could make the request. Nothing had faded of the surreality, it only seemed to increase with every touch, every stroke and pressure. As if he would wake from a pleasurable dream at any moment in his bed, covered in a thin film of sweat and aching with frustrated desires, as he had so many times since he'd met Miss Fisher.
But it wasn't a dream. Phryne's hand was still lazily trailing over his body, leaving burning paths on his skin, her eyes on him with an intensity he knew so well. Sofia had intensified her attentions, driving him to the edge with determination. Jack bit his lips, dug his head into the pillow, willing himself not to fall. Then fingers again wrapped tightly around him, pulling him back. Sofia had worked her magic. He caught his breath, the stars fading in front of his eyes.
Phryne was still watching him carefully.
"Please," he breathed, incapably of stopping himself from begging. "Please, Phryne."
She nodded, brushed a kiss to his lips and straddled his lap without granting him any friction. Jack bucked up against her, burning to finally feel her. His fingers curled into a thigh, provoking a small moan from Sofia's lips. Her hand had released his balls, helping to guide him instead. The sudden warmth surrounding him was so overwhelming that Jack feared he'd lose consciousness. When he opened his eyes he found Phryne on top of him, wearing nothing but her sparkling mask and watching him from underneath her lashes. Sofia followed the scene with glittering eyes. He realised that he was still holding onto her thigh and a sudden desire flashed in his mind.
He took Sofia's hand, who made no effort to hide her surprise, and pulled her on top of himself. The last thing he saw before her thighs cut off his view of Phryne, was his lover's astonished expression. Jack knew that he was being bold, but it seemed unfair to him that this stranger shouldn't leave the bed entirely satisfied. Sofia stared down at him in fascinated arousal as he took the first hesitant lick. Her moan appeared to echo off the walls. She tasted different than Phryne, yet strong and intoxicating and he closed his eyes to savour her flavour and the feel of her against his tongue. While one hand wrapped around her waist to pull her closer, his other one stole further down his body, where Phryne was taking him at an achingly slow pace. She gasped in surprise as his thumb brushed against her. But suddenly it was entirely clear what he wanted. He would take them both with himself, and if it was the last thing he'd do. Phryne threatened this resolution with an artful roll of her hips only moments later. Jack held on by the skin of his teeth, his heavy moan so loud that he worried they might be discovered. He had no time to contemplate the possibility. Phryne's arm wrapped around Sofia's chest from behind, capturing a breast in her palm and pulling her close enough to bring the other woman's neck in reach of her lips. Jack's hand left the hipbone he'd been clutching onto, slipped over Sofia's stomach and brushed Phryne's fingers before he twisted a nipple between his fingertips. Sofia writhed helplessly between her torturers, her head thrown back against Phryne's shoulder. Jack desperately held on, but his control was slipping fast. Phryne's breath was picking up along with her speed. She wasn't far, he could sense it. Sofia rocked against him, her moans coming in a quick staccato. He bucked his hips as far as the weight of two women would allow. It was this exact moment when the world came apart at the seams. The last thing he saw were Phryne's eyes rolling up behind her mask, then her muscles clenched around him, irresistibly pulling him into the depths. Sofia bucked against his mouth one last time, almost drowning him. The cry as she unravelled echoed through his soul. Phryne was clutching onto her friend, riding the wave with closed eyes. Then white fire consumed him too, flames racing along his body, burning everything in their wake. Breathless he resurfaced as two heavy bodies collapsed on top of him.
"That was… quite something," Sofia gasped.
Jack said nothing. He wasn't sure if his tongue still worked. He sought out Phryne's eyes, who seemed breathless and exhilarated, reminding him of earlier in the night. He now wondered if the woman he had watched on the dance floor had been only her. He'd rather thought she'd moved quickly from one place to another. Now she smiled at him, pressing a sweaty kiss to his lips.
"It certainly was," she breathed, right beside his ear. They would talk later, he knew. She would want to know. He wasn't sure if he had an answer for her.
"Dear Phryne didn't do you any credit," Sofia complained, her naked body pressed into his side, her head bedded on his shoulder. "I told her you would grow to enjoy this."
Jack raised his eyebrows at his lover, who simpered.
"You are a dark horse, Inspector," she purred, snuggling into his chest. He wanted to know too. But that had time until later, Jack thought before he gave himself into the luring sleep.
When he awoke again, the noises downstairs had subsided, the bedroom was dark, a blanket spread across his naked limbs. There was still a soft body curled into his side, but the other one was missing.
"Are you awake?" he asked into the night. Phryne nodded against his chest.
"Sofia had to leave, I'm afraid," she explained, yawning. "Her husband took her home an hour ago."
Jack started. She obviously felt him tensing, since her fingertips ran mesmerising circles over his chest as if to sooth an unsettled animal.
"She's a married woman?" he asked hoarsely, his throat dry, in result of things he didn't dare to remember right now.
"Don't worry yourself. She will tell Matthew of our adventure in detail. And he will take his own enjoyment from the tale."
He felt Phryne smile against his skin. The Inspector wasn't entirely certain if he understood, but he guessed nobody had been injured by their debauchery at least. For a long moment they lay in silence.
"I can't help but wonder, Miss Fisher," Jack finally voiced what he couldn't shake, "did you set the trap?"
She shifted, her elbow digging into his chest as she pulled herself up to look at him. Her eyes were bright against the total darkness and he reached out to gently stroke her face. She'd taken off her mask while he'd been asleep.
"What makes you ask that?" she enquired, without any of the coyness he had expected. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, not sure if to proceed. His own mask had disappeared as well.
"It seems an obvious suspicion," Jack explained weakly. "The dress..."
She silenced him with a finger to his lips.
"Coincidence, Jack."
He sensed the truthfulness of her statement and decided not to dig deeper.
"I hadn't seen her much in recent years, but of course I had to congratulate her on her excellent taste," Phryne said. The Inspector grinned to himself. Miss Fisher may just have been the only woman in the world who thought meeting a similar dress in a ballroom was amusing rather than an insult.
"She was rather taken with my companion though and proposed a little menage a trois."
"An obvious conclusion watching a stranger across the dance floor," Jack interrupted her, dryly.
She simpered against his chest, her fingertips still trailing lazy circle over his skin.
"We may have experimented in the past. I will admit I am not opposed to her skills and find it can be an exhilarating experience. Particularly for the man involved."
Jack wasn't sure what to say or feel. But there was a small part of him which was miffed Miss Fisher had played him.
"So naturally you bartered me away like a cow at the market?" he asked.
"Naturally, Jack, I refused in the assumption that you would not care to be involved in such immoral behaviour. Of course, I was entirely mistaken."
There was a colouring to her voice that surprised him even more than her confession. His ruffled feathers settled. He rolled onto his side to face her, stroked her naked shoulder. The feel of her soft skin underneath his fingertips was still as calming and exciting as at the very first touch.
"I don't believe I would have accepted in sober mind," he admitted after a pause. "But I fear the arms of two beautiful women were too compelling, Miss Fisher. I was in the middle of it before I knew what I was doing."
His heart sank as he felt her retreat from him. He wanted to explain, but she gave him no chance.
"Do you mean to say... Sofia did not speak to you?" she asked, audibly appalled.
"Speaking was not high on her list of priorities," Jack admitted quietly. "And her attire added considerably to my confusion."
He bit his lips, unable to voice the apologies he wanted to pour over her. But to his surprise she pulled him closer.
"I am so sorry, Jack. Had I known… She warned me of her intentions to convince you. When I found you in her embrace, I assumed she had succeeded..." Phryne trailed off.
Jack felt the conversation shift to a dark place that he didn't want to approach. He cupped her cheek, pressing a kiss to her lips.
"Luckily, Miss Fisher, it all turned out for the best. Though you should probably not trust your friend with anything of importance."
His joke didn't seem to entirely calm her.
"I will certainly never entrust you to her again," Phryne whispered angrily. Jack smiled.
"I don't think that will be necessary, Miss Fisher."
He settled again on his back, pulling her to his side.
"As much as I have enjoyed this endeavour, I believe I'm entirely satisfied with just one woman in my arms."
She palpably relaxed into his embrace.
"Is that so, Jack?"
"Absolutely, Miss Fisher."
He gently stroked a lock of hair from her face.
"And there I thought we could have more escapades of the kind," she grinned against his shoulder. Jack frowned.
"More friends you'd like to introduce me to?"
"Oh, I think some of them you would quite enjoy," Phryne purred teasingly. "Magda for example is stunning, the most beautiful, full breasts you'll ever see. Oh, and Serge. His muscles are so taunt, it's hard to believe without touching them."
Jack wasn't sure if to take her seriously, but he was certain he should have been more appalled than he was.
"I believe you are teasing me, Miss Fisher," he said dryly. She didn't answer, just smiled, her hand slipping underneath the covers and settling onto his stomach.
"I'm merely pointing out that there are many adventures awaiting us out there, Inspector."
"Not all of whom have to involve other people I'm sure?"
Her teasing tone dropped.
"We can have them entirely by ourselves, Jack," she said quietly. "If that is what you want." He closed his eyes, embarrassing tears rising in his throat. Instead of an answer he pulled her in and kissed her. Her mouth opened readily to him, her taste warm and familiar, the flavour of sleep and love. It occurred to him that he might still taste of another woman. He'd have to go wash his face soon. But not right now. Right now… A cold thought cut through the foggy mixture of warmth and rising arousal. He groaned.
"Oh no."
"What is it?"
"I'm bound to solve Streeling's murder before the morning."
Angrily he threw the covers from himself, sitting on the edge of the bed. In brief words he explained the situation with the commissioner to an astonished Phryne, while he collected his clothing from the floor. When he dared look at her again, he found that she was already dressed. Noting his surprised expression she shrugged and simpered.
"I said adventures, Jack. They cannot all be located in the bedroom." She pressed a kiss to his lips that held the sweet promise of a later continuation, before she retreated and grinned.
"Now do get dressed, we have to find a murderer."