Dot had to admit, but only to herself, that she had become a little envious of Miss Fisher. Her free spirit, the way she took everything that came at her and turned it to her advantage had, at first, shocked her, then intrigued her before tempting her to be, perhaps, a little bit more daring than her mother would have allowed.
She and Hugh, by their own admission, were rather innocent and sometimes Dot felt frustrated that even their kisses didn't feel as passionate as those they saw in the movies looked.
After one pleasant afternoon together, a picnic and a chaste cuddle by the river, she had returned home deep in thought. Hugh had noticed her distraction but hadn't the courage to ask her if she was alright, was there anything he could do?
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She helped Mr Butler wash the plates they had used, put things away and prepared the dinner. Miss Fisher was out, probably irritating the Inspector on a case, but they knew she would need a meal when she returned and, just in case, prepared enough should the Inspector join her.
"I've got some sewing to do, Mr Butler," she dried her hands, "I think I'll take it upstairs."
"Very well, Dorothy," he smiled, "I shall let you know when Miss Fisher returns."
"Thank you," she left him thinking that she seemed a little sad, he hoped there wasn't trouble between her and the young constable.
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Standing with her hand on the handle of the parlour door she wondered if she should ...if she should browse some of Miss Fisher's more risqué publications she kept quite openly on the bookshelves.
It took her two days to summon up the courage to take a book off the shelves that she thought might have the information she needed. Miss Fisher was out at her aunt's house and wouldn't be back until quite late. It was a book mainly of pictures and a little further information about what kind of pleasure certain positions should give.
Up in her bedroom she put the book on her bed and gazed at the exquisitely designed cover. Just a simple line drawing of two faces, one female and one male, about to kiss.
She opened it at arm's length, as if it might burst into flames, then, as it didn't, she looked at the pictures. They were oriental and rather graphic. She shut it quickly, blushing to the roots of her hair and swallowing nervously. Still, if she wanted to spice up her love life she needed to look.
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There were three sections to the book, one devoted to the woman and how she might relieve some of the tension she felt, one to the man, that had her raise her eyebrows and blush furiously and the images of a man and his ... well she daren't put a name to it! The third section was devoted to showing various ways they could pleasure each other, some of which she was not willing to try - yet.
As time wore on and she wondered how anyone could achieve some of the positions without injuring themselves she also noticed she was beginning to feel different, in, what she termed, her down below area. As a good catholic girl she thought she shouldn't be having this bodily reaction to 'dirty' pictures but the feeling was not entirely unpleasant.
Thanking the god she firmly believed in that it was Mr Butler's evening off and he was out of the house, she determined she would do a little personal exploring, that night, in bed.
She closed the book and took a deep breath before heading downstairs to make a much needed cup of tea and put the book away, before Miss found out she had been reading it. She wasn't sure if she would be angry or impressed that she had the nerve to read such a publication.
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Dot surveyed her night attire, a long sleeved, high necked nightdress in serviceable cotton that covered her from neck to toe and completely obliterated her shape. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed, not exactly alluring, if she wanted to seduce Hugh, which, at this moment in time she didn't. Miss Fisher had some lovely nightdresses, silk and satin, bias cut with fine straps that showed off her figure - she supposed that hiding just enough was the idea of a nightdress designed to tempt. Admittedly, if her mistress had an overnight guest the nightdress usually ended up on the floor and Phryne would sleep naked. Dot didn't think she was quite ready for that, even if she did sleep alone. The nearest to something like Miss Fisher's nightwear would be one of her slips. Not of silk, rayon was all that Dot could afford, even on the generous salary she was paid, so she decided to sleep in her slip. She took the nightdress off still standing in front of the mirror, and, as she lifted her arms she looked at herself. Completely naked, would Hugh like what he saw, or would he prefer her to remain covered? She supposed it was alright, her figure. A little plumper than her mistress but her breasts were firm and her stomach nearly flat. She had a waist and the triangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs was neat. Again she wondered how much Hugh knew, of the female form, how much had he seen when viewing a body in the morgue.
"Well, Dorothy Williams," she told herself, "it's what the good lord gave you so best make the most of it." She pulled her pink under slip over her head and turned to the bed.
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The slip was surprisingly comfortable as a nightdress. She hadn't realised that her usual nightgown was smothering, and being naked under it she felt free, less confined. She thought back to the pictures she had been looking at, she had a very good memory, so good she blushed at the image of a man holding his ... she couldn't give a name to it, not yet.
She knew what a woman had, in the un discussed area, at least her mother hadn't discussed anything ... about anything, really. Except when she had had her first monthly and thought she was bleeding to death. That was about it, so, she had listened and learned as she had grown and now knew enough she thought, to start learning what her body wanted and how she could relieve the current itch.
She thought more about the pictures, hoping for a similar reaction to that afternoon when she had the book in front of her. She passed her hand over her breast and found her nipple standing proud, as if she were cold. She closed her eyes and visualised one of the particularly graphic pictures and found a now familiar feeling, between her legs. She felt warm, too warm even for this time of year, her whole body was blushing. Thinking of what she had planned as a scientific experiment did nothing to lessen the feeling. She slipped her hand between her legs but still with the fabric of her slip between her and her curls. Slowly, nervously she gathered the fabric up until her fingers encountered the triangle and, biting her lip she pushed two fingers over her folds, gasping to find them wet and slippery. There had been evidence that this had happened when she had undressed that evening and tentatively looked at her knickers. She had rolled them up quickly and pushed them into her laundry basket. She found her entrance and ...
She lay gasping with surprise and her boldness and the subsequent pleasure her touching had brought her, and the lack of guilt. After all, a man hadn't done that to her, it was all her own doing. Now, when was she next due to have time with Hugh?
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She stood nervously outside Dr Macmillan's office. She couldn't go to her own doctor, he was catholic, like her, and a man! So, the only person she could talk to was Mac.
She had been out with Hugh the previous day, nearly a week after her bedroom experiment, which she had repeated - several times! They had gone to their usual picnic spot, secluded, away from prying eyes and laid a blanket on the ground. Usually, Hugh would kiss her, gently, a little exploring with his tongue but not enough to get a girl too excited. She had encouraged him to deepen the connection and the kisses had gradually become quite heated and a lot more passionate than she had come to expect from her shy constable. When he had got a little over enthusiastic and started to nuzzle her neck, just under her collar she had let him, much to his surprise and delight.
"Hugh," she gasped, pressing her hair back into place, "well, that's a surprise." She smoothed her dress down.
"Dottie," he pulled back.
"Where're you going?" she asked, reaching to pull him back next to her.
"I thought ... " he blushed, "I thought you were upset, at me, at ..." he waved his hand at the mark on her collar bone.
"Hugh Collins," she sighed, exasperated, "if I had been upset do you think you would still be breathing."
"I suppose not," he began to smile, "so, shall we continue?"
He thought he quite liked Dottie this way, he had been afraid to go too fast in case he scared her off or offended her and in doing so would have incurred the wrath of both Miss Fisher and the Inspector. The trouble with this soft courting was that he lived at home, with his mother, who would take a very dim view of him kissing Dot quite so fervently plus he had, on occasions, after a picnic and a chaste cuddle, shut himself in his bedroom with an old towel and taken himself in hand. He wasn't ashamed, as such, but he daren't let his mother know how strong his feelings for the young catholic girl were. He hoped he could wait until he got home, tonight, he would definitely have to find some relief. He wished he earned enough for them to get married and have their own little home.
They had talked, shyly, on the way home, each admitting they were tired of waiting for the time they could give in to their desires.
So, here she stood, about to ask the doctor to help her with something that went against all the teachings of the church, intimacy outside the bounds of marriage and preventing pregnancy.
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Mac smiled gently at the clearly nervous young woman in front of her. She let her take her time, ramble on about her and Hugh, and how they wanted to go further than a little kissing and petting. Dot blushed and stuttered her way through to asking Mac one simple question. Simple to Mac, anyway.
"So, you see, doctor," she gripped the handkerchief she had been twisting round her fingers, "I was wondering, if you could, perhaps er ... well Miss Fisher has one ..."
"Stop right there, Dot," Mac reached over and touched her hand, "if you are sure, that you want to take this step, and become intimate with Hugh, then, yes, I can fit you with a diaphragm."
"Thank you, Dr Macmillan," Dot heaved a huge sigh of relief, "though I'm not saying we are about to leap into bed, immediately. We don't have a home of our own yet."
While she examined Dot and showed her how to insert the device, getting her to do it herself so she was sure she was able to set it correctly, she mused on the fact that there was nowhere the young couple could go. Dot would not take Hugh into her room at Phryne's house and she had been around when Dot and Hugh had talked about his mother not being happy about him seeing a catholic girl, and the day he had told her he would convert if he had to. That was one problem they would have to sort out themselves.
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They continued seeing each other, Phryne being sensitive enough to make sure Dot's day off was the same as Hugh's. She had spoken to Jack about them, about how they needed to be able to afford a place of their own, even a little flat, but he couldn't promote Hugh without losing him, at the moment.
"Though god knows I've tried," he sighed, one evening over whisky and draughts.
"I'm just worried they may do something silly," she cleared the board, he hated that, that she seemed to have two sides of her brain working at the same time, able to consider the latest problem while beating him hollow at draughts .
"I think I heard Hugh suggest they go swimming, tomorrow," he poured them both another drink, "he said he would teach her."
"That's thoughtful of him," she raised her glass, thinking the same thing as him, "I'll give her the key to the beach hut, to change in, of course."
"Sounds a good idea," he returned her salute. "Now, Miss Fisher, having sorted out the love life of our second in commands, what about ours?"
"Excuse me?"
He pushed the draughts board out of the way and reached over for her hand. It looked tiny in his, the skin was soft and the nails neatly trimmed and painted with a clear varnish. It was hard to think this hand could hold a small gun and fire it with deadly accuracy. He lifted it and softly kissed the back of her hand, looking up at her with a devilish twinkle in his eye.
They had danced this dance most nights, sometimes going as far as a passionate kiss before he left and they both slept alone, because even Phryne slept alone these nights. Now Jack had her heart in his hand, anyone else that passed her way didn't even get a second look. Tonight she sensed was going to be different.
As they parted from a particularly deep kiss he smiled and leant in to kiss her forehead. Standing up he held out his hand to her,
"Miss Fisher?" he waited, holding her gaze, "may I take you to bed?"
"Inspector," she breathed, "I thought you'd never ask." She took his hand and they slowly wandered up the stairs to her boudoir.
Jack had considered how he was going to behave with his Lady Detective all day. In the end he had decided that, to hell with convention, tonight, he was going to take her to bed and love her the way he had wanted to since before his divorce.
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Dot raised her eyebrow at the sight of the Inspector's coat and hat on the stand in the hall that morning. Then she smiled, 'about time', she thought, then blushed at that. Hugh was to call for her mid morning, they would go to the foreshore and he was going to teach her to swim, or that was what he thought. Dot could swim, but when he suggested that they spend the day there, he had assumed she couldn't swim. She had splashed out on a new bathing costume, The last one she had had was extremely old fashioned, down to the knees bloomers with a long sleeved dress over the top, practically Victorian. She had chosen a modern but demure navy blue costume, her mother would say she was naked, but her mother was not going to see it. She was going to put it on under her dress and wrap her underwear, pale pink tap pants and brassiere, and her slip, in a towel.
"Ah, Dot, thank you," Miss Fisher smiled as she took the breakfast tray, set for two, into the boudoir. "I'm famished." She nudged the sleeping form of Inspector Jack Robinson with her elbow, "Breakfast, Jack."
He mumbled something unintelligible into the pillow then turned his head. He had told himself there was no need to be embarrassed if Miss Williams caught them in bed together, she was the soul of discretion and probably expected it anyway. He could do with at least four more hours sleep, but he was due at City South so he pushed himself up and looked past her.
Dot put the tray down on Miss Fisher's lap as usual and went to open the curtains.
"Dot," Phryne called from the bed, "as you are going swimming today, best take the key to the beach hut."
"Oh, thank you, Miss," she smiled and tried not to blush, "we can put the picnic there."
"Of course, and it will be easier to change," Phryne sipped the strong coffee and relaxed against the pillows.
"Will that be all, Miss Fisher?" Dot stood at the foot of the bed, studiously avoiding looking at the Inspector, more to spare his blushes than hers.
"Yes, thank you, you go off and have a lovely day."
"Thank you, Miss, you too," Dot left and grinned as she closed the door.
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The picnic basket was packed, her towel and underwear were in a separate bag, big enough to hold Hugh's and, as they had the key to the beach hut she had decided the device had better be deployed, just in case. All that was needed was Constable Collins.
"Hello Dottie," he appeared at the kitchen door, "got everything?"
"Absolutely, Hugh," she held out the bag, "here, put your towel and things in here."
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As it was the middle of the week, and the schools were open, Dot and Hugh found the foreshore relatively quiet. They opened the beach hut and deposited the picnic basket and Dot dropped the bag of towels and underwear in the corner. Miss Fisher rarely used the hut, but it had all the home comforts, a chair, day bed with blanket (folded) sundry beach paraphernalia, and a small primus stove and kettle.
Dot bent down to lift her dress by the hem and Hugh turned his back.
"Oh, for goodness sake, Hugh," she huffed, "I have my costume underneath." She rolled her eyes.
"Right, well," he started to peel his shirt off, collarless, "if you say so, so have I."
In short order they were both in their bathers. Hugh in the ones she had seen him in that day he and the Inspector had searched for a dagger at Queenscliff, and she ... well, Hugh's mouth hung open, until she told him he looked like a landed codfish. She tried not to look at the obvious arousal he displayed. She laughed and ran past him, heading into the calm water, hotly chased by her constable who was convinced she would drown herself.
"Dottie!" he called, "Dottie, wait!"
"Catch me if you can, Hugh Collins!" she laughed back, "race you to the pier!"
She beat him.
"I didn't think you could swim," he gasped as he caught her by a pillar.
"Never assume, Hugh," she grinned, "just because I appear to be a quiet one ..."
His only answer was to grab her round the waist and kiss her, thoroughly.
"Oh, Hugh," she sighed, "I do love you."
"Dottie," he leaned back and looked at her, "what do we do, you and me? I can't afford even the smallest place for us, you can't come home with me, I can't come to Wardlow with you ..."
"But we have the beach hut," she whispered in his ear, "and, Hugh, though our mothers conspire to keep us apart ..."
"Would Miss Fisher mind?" he stroked her wet hair, she had not bothered with a swim cap, "us, using the hut for ..."
"Oh Hugh," she snuggled against his wet chest, "why do you think she gave me the key? After all," she put on her serious face, "the Inspector didn't go home, last night, not that we know anything."
"Well, he must have been on a night op," Hugh smirked.
"Of course, he has to investigate all eventualities in the case."
"Indeed," he brushed her hair off her face. "I need to investigate something."
"What, Hugh," she giggled, "do you need to investigate?"
"Come to the hut, and I'll show you," he leant in and kissed her, properly.
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They closed the door, and slipped the bolt home. Alone, at last.
Hugh circled Dot, trailing his fingers over her shoulders, down her arms. He stood behind her and brushed her hair over her shoulder and planted little kisses on her neck and down her spine, each freckle deserving of individual attention. He slipped his fingers under the straps of her bathing costume and slid them down her arms. She shrugged her hands free, and let him pass his hands over each of her breasts, feeling the weight and passing a thumb over each nipple, pert and proud.
Leaning in to him she could feel his erection pressing against her, she rolled her head so he had access to her neck and revelled in the kisses and nips he placed there.
Hugh delighted in the salty tang of her skin, the weight of her against him, the softness of her breasts against the palms of his hands. He turned her round and they locked lips. Dot's hands moved up his arms and pulled the shoulders of his bathers down, so she could rub her breasts against his chest. His tongue was doing untold things to her, sweeping the roof of her mouth, licking her jaw line, his teeth adding little nips, his lips sucking her earlobes then, as he bent, her breasts. The crotch of her bathing suit was wetter than when she had come out of the sea, she wanted him so much. His erection pushed against her through the cloth of his bathers, twitching against her belly.
She slipped her hands down inside his costume, over his buttocks, and gripped handfuls of his flesh.
"Oh Dottie," he sighed.
"Sh, Hugh," she moaned into his mouth.
His hands moved down inside her bathers, mirroring her moves, and pushed the garment down until it fell round her ankles. She stood, naked against him as he pushed his fingers between her legs from behind, she was wet, her folds were slick and ready for him.
"Oh, Hugh, please," she barely caught her breath, and shoved his bathers down, then moved her hands round to hold his manhood. It was hot, hard and larger than she had expected, but from the tenting in his costume she shouldn't be surprised.
They slowly fell to the floor, onto the blanket she had dropped there, and Hugh cradled her head as he lay her down before him.
"God, Dottie," he gasped, "you're beautiful."
He moved down her body bestowing kisses, suckling at each breast, circling her nipples with his tongue. His hands gripped her hips, hers gripped his shoulders and she began to buck beneath him, an automatic reaction, her legs each side of him. His head dipped between her legs, he sucked at the nub of nerves, his tongue teased her entrance, tasting her wetness, but she wanted him inside her, his hot hard length that teased and twitched against her legs.
"Hugh," she gulped, "please."
He smirked, all those times he had taken himself in hand, slowly learning to wait, to hold off before he came, sometimes with explosive results was useful.
He crawled up her body, kissing and licking as he went until his tip was touching her folds. One look at her face told him he didn't need to ask, and he positioned himself and slid just inside her. He drew back then pushed a little further in. She locked her ankles behind him and pulled him down, feeling him push deep into her, it hurt. Dr Macmillan had said it would, the first time, but, she relished the pain and although she gasped, she urged him on. He pounded into her, his testicles hitting her, the sound of flesh on flesh ...
"Dottie!" he was close and she was holding him.
"It's ok, Hugh," she managed to gasp, as they came together, she holding him tight, not willing to let him go as he spilled into her. He felt her shudder as the aftershocks took her and then released him, her knees falling to the sides as she felt him soften and leave her.
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They curled together, glistening and pink. Dot hiccupped a little giggle, that had to be the most amazing experience she had ever had.
"Dottie?!" Hugh kissed the top of her head, "I was going to pull out."
"You don't have to, Hugh," she arched her neck to look at him, "that's taken care of."
"But the church ?"
"Needs to move with the times, Hugh," she smiled, "or there will be a lot of unsatisfied women and frustrated men around, and an awful lot of unwanted children."
"Really?"
"Really."
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She woke from a short doze and smiled. Her arm was over Hugh's chest and the rise and fall of his chest was both relaxing and stimulating. She stroked her hand down and was rather pleased to note he was aroused. Now, she wasn't sure if this was due to her presence by his side, or if it was normal for a man to have an erection while he was asleep. She slid a finger down his length and cupped his balls in her hand. He shifted and murmured her name. She formed a ring with her thumb and forefinger and moved it up and down his shaft biting her lip as it twitched. "Oh, god," he groaned, "Dot ..."
He reached down, fumbling in his half awake state, and pulled her up so he could taste her breasts, oh, how he loved the taste of them, the feel of them as he suckled on the nipples, and her hands, god, he nearly came before he was in her. She straddled him, just above his throbbing cock, and bent down to his face, slipping her tongue into his mouth and tasting the remnants of her. The kiss was long, their tongues slid over each other, his hand slipped over her curls between her legs, finding her so wet it was as if she had just come out of the bath. He thrust his fingers in her, she gulped and sat above him, rocking on his hand but she wanted more, and though she was unsure the device could hold out for a second round she didn't care. She pulled his hand roughly from her core.
"What do you want, Hugh?" she hummed, darkly, her hand moved down to his shaft and positioned it at her swollen entrance.
"All," he gulped, "all of it Dot, I am yours to command."
"Silly boy," she laughed and sank onto his hardness and started to rock and rise and fall. He pushed up into her, hard, hoping he could hold off until she had climaxed. She teased him, rising slowly then falling until she felt his testicles against her backside, sinking, grinding until the rhythm increased. He pushed up she ground down until she arched and cursed,
"Bloody hell, Hugh, now!" and his seed spilled into her, she tightened round him and held on for what seemed ages, until he softened and slipped out of her.
She sank onto him and licked his nipples, tasting the sweat and wriggling her curls against him, just above his shaft.
He lay there and thought this had to be the advantage to living a celibate life, and sneaking a peak at one of Miss Fisher's books, which he was sure Dot had done also. His soft cock twitched and started to firm up again. How, he didn't know, but he was glad it did. His mother would be horrified, hers would be disgusted, but right now he didn't care, and apparently neither did Dot.
Their final coupling was more leisurely than before. Hugh rolled her onto her back and kissed her all over, noting the marks he had left, particularly on her breasts - oh how he loved her breasts!
As he entered her this time he took it slowly, burying his shaft deep inside her, then almost pulling out before thrusting back taking Dot's breaths as a guide. She bucked under him, signalling he needed to speed up and truthfully he wasn't sure he could hold off this time. As she bucked, locked her ankles behind his bum and gripped his buttocks he increased the rhythm until she tightened round him and gasped his name in her orgasm. He came almost immediately afterwards and fell onto her, pink and exhausted.
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They had to wash, the smell of sex was all around and over them. Dot threw his bathers at him and pulled hers on.
"Back into the sea, Hugh," she grabbed her towel and wrapped it round her, hoping to hide some of the marks that showed on her chest and thighs.
Opening the door she was grateful that it was now dusk, they would just be shadows, then she blushed at the amount of time they had spent in the hut.
The sea was cool and soothing but they would both have to bathe properly when they got home, her to Wardlow and he sneaking in to his mother's house.
"I don't know when we will be able to do this again," she sighed as they walked back to the hut, hand in hand, "I can't keep requesting the key to the hut when we are going out."
"Perhaps you could have another cut," he opened the door and stepped aside to let her enter.
"Hmm," she mused.
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She laughed at him turning away so she could take her costume off and dry enough to put her underwear on.
"Really Hugh Collins," she huffed, "after what we have spent the day doing ..."
"It's not that, Dottie," he grinned still facing away from her, "but if I see you like that, well, I might not be able to control myself."
They dressed in silence, Dot folded everything up including the blanket they had lain on. It definitely needed a wash.
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"Hugh?" she kept her eyes fixed on the route home, "how did you know ...?"
"Know what, Dottie," he didn't look at her.
"What to do?" he had been a lot more knowledgeable than she had been expected.
"Oh, well," he cleared his throat, "while I was waiting for you and Miss Fisher one day, I saw a book on her shelves ... most revealing." he was glad it was now dark and she couldn't see his blushes.
She giggled, "I think we may have read the same book."
"Dottie!" he stopped and pulled her round to him, "honestly?"
She nodded and laughed.
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"Good day, Dot?" Miss Fisher enquired, blandly, as she entered the kitchen, having kissed Hugh good night by the gate.
"Lovely, thank you, Miss," she put the picnic basket on the table and started to unpack it, "did you and the Inspector sort out that case?"
"Oh, yes," Phryne smiled, the case was definitely sorted, "Jack has just gone to finish the paperwork, he may be back later, for a nightcap."
"Right, well, I'm covered in sand and the sea water has done nothing for my hair, so, if you don't mind, Miss," Dot put the plates in the sink, "I think I'll have a bath."
"Alright," Phryne suppressed a smile, there was a glow about Dot that told her the beach hut had served its purpose.
"Thank you for the use of the hut," she passed the key back.
"Any time, Dot, anytime," Miss Fisher turned and headed into the parlour, Dot had surprised her, again, and she felt no guilt for having given her the means to scratch that certain itch, Dot was old enough to make her own decisions.
Her nightcap with the Inspector was likely to have a different conclusion, from now on, he had intimated as much when he had left to go home and change before he went to the station.
And he really was doing paperwork.