A/N: Hello! This is my first Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries fanfic. I hope devotees to the fandom enjoy my effort, and will forgive me for any errors.

Series three hasn't been broadcast in my country yet (even though we're right next door to Australia) and I don't have Netflix, so I'm woefully behind. But what I lack in knowledge I make up for in enthusiasm!

Feedback will be gratefully appreciated.

It was early evening. Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was diligently ploughing his way through an enormous pile of administration forms, and he was pleased to note he was making fair progress. But he shouldn't have let the pile grow so tall, he admonished himself. Trouble was, every time Phryne – or Miss Fisher, when they were in company - sailed through his office door on a cloud of exotic silk and heady perfume, he ended up following her back out. And then he wouldn't see his desk for another week or so, except for desperate snatches here and there.

And now the canteen was desperately short on tea and sugar, and the milkman was threatening to cut the police station off if someone didn't pay his bloody bill.

But Jack couldn't rest on his laurels too soon. To even take a break for a cuppa before his toil was complete was to tempt fate. It was like Phryne had a sixth sense that she'd honed to pinpoint accuracy. Every time he thought he'd gotten the better of his paperwork, she'd be sitting on the corner of his desk, one long, smooth leg hooked over the other, champing at the bit to drag him off on some madcap, dangerous spree. Or, in her words, 'an adventure, darling.'

Sure enough, there was a knock at his office door, and Constable Hugh Collins poked his head around. 'Uh, sir,' he began.

Jack sighed. 'Send her in, Constable,' he said without looking up.

'Send who in, sir?'

Jack looked up. The doorway was bereft of all life except for Hugh, looking confused.

Jack was also confused. 'Where's Miss Fisher?'

Hugh transformed from confused to boggling. 'Is she meant to be here, sir?' he asked.

Jack frowned, tapping his pen. Against all odds, it appeared that Phryne's instincts were in need of sharpening today.

'Uh, no, never mind, Constable,' he said. 'What is it you need?'

Hugh bit his lip and his cheeks reddened. 'Uh, well, I was hoping I could have a word with you in private, sir,' he stumbled. He quickly looked over his shoulder at the front counter. 'On a personal matter.'

Jack looked down at his noticeably smaller pile – but still a pile, nonetheless – of forms. He should have known God would send him a reliable replacement to interrupt him. He hid his sigh. 'Of course. Have a seat,' he said, waving Hugh in.

'Thank you, sir,' said Hugh gratefully, and closed the door. He took his seat – not on the corner of Jack's desk, thankfully – but on the other side of the desk, like the rest of the population tended to do.

Hugh tugged at his collar and wiggled about on his chair. He checked his watch and inspected his boots. Then he had another go at his collar.

Jack watched all of this squirming with a raised eyebrow.

When it looked like Hugh was starting another round of fidgeting, he said 'Uh, Collins, what did you want to talk about?'

Hugh looked up guiltily, and took a few calming breaths.

Jack reached for his whisky bottle and a couple of glasses. He had a feeling some Scotch courage would be required. He sloshed an inch into each of the glasses and sent one across his desk to Hugh.

His face lit up in delight and relief. 'Thanks, Detective Inspector!' he said gratefully, and took a rather hefty sip. Then his eyes bulged, and he burst into a coughing fit.

Jack took a smaller, appreciative sip of his ambrosia. 'It's got a bit of a kick,' he noted.

'You don't say, sir,' Hugh agreed, wheezing.

When Hugh recovered his powers of speech and respiration, he looked Jack dead in the eye, and said 'Sir, I want to talk to you about' – he took an extra breath for luck – 'sex.'

Silence.

Jack unbuttoned his collar and loosened his tie. 'In that case, you should probably call me Jack.'

Hugh looked horrified.

'Just for this conversation,' Jack clarified. He retrieved the whisky bottle from its hiding place and put it on the desk. It may be needed for medicinal purposes.

'Oh, no, sir, I – I couldn't!' Hugh stammered.

'Not to worry. The offer's still there if you feel the need to call upon it.'

'Thank you, sir,' Hugh said. 'It's just… well, I don't know who to believe, you see.'

Jack did not see. 'Who is telling you things that you're not sure about?'

Hugh stared at something terribly fascinating on the wall behind Jack's head. 'Well, Dottie's priest told us that f-fornication is a mortal sin, and that the sole purpose of the s-sexual act within marriage is to try for a baby,' he confessed miserably. 'And that we weren't to go for any deviant sexual positions.'

Jack's eyebrow shot up. 'What are deviant sexual positions?'

Hugh sighed. 'I don't know! He wouldn't tell us. And poor Dottie looked mortified enough as it was, so I dropped the subject. But some of the blokes around the station have been giving me some stick about the wedding, and they've said things that, quite frankly, sir, um, Jack, um, sir, I find quite hard to believe.'

Jack made a mental note to have a quiet word with the Sergeant about his lippy staff. 'Care to give me an example?' he asked carefully.

Hugh had apparently discovered a loose thread on his uniform. 'Well, sir, Constable O'Malley spoke of using his mouth on a lady… down there!' he whispered, pointing to his groin. 'And, well, you're worldly and wise and you've been married, so I thought if anyone knows everything there is to know about, um, you know, then it'll be the Detective Inspector!'

Then poor Hugh's face grew wretched. 'Please help me, sir. I don't know a bloody thing, and I don't want to disappoint Dottie on her wedding night.' Then he looked haunted. 'Or hurt her.'

Jack drained his glass and refilled both.

Poor Hugh, he thought. As honest as the day is long, and as innocent as a newborn lamb. With his father killed when he was just a boy, it's no surprise, really. He's a good kid. I want to do right by him.

But I'm not going to enjoy this one little bit.

'Okay,' Jack said, making himself comfortable behind his desk. 'I take it you're a virgin, then?'

Hugh's cheeks turned the shade of a summer tomato. 'Uh, yes, sir.'

Jack nodded. 'Have you heard of a vagina?'

'I'm not sure, sir,' Hugh said carefully.

Jack found some scrap paper and picked up his pen. 'Right. I think we'll start with a basic diagram of the female's sexual organs.'

'Very good, sir.' Hugh fished out his notebook, ready to copy what the Detective Inspector drew.

'Uh, it's not a good idea to have a drawing of a woman's private parts in your notebook unless it is for evidentiary purposes, Constable. That notebook is the property of the Crown, don't forget.'

'True, sir,' Hugh said. 'Can I make notes of what you say?'

Jack blinked. 'I think you'll find it'll stay in your head without the use of your notebook.'

Meekly, Hugh put his notebook away.

Oh, God, Jack sighed to himself. Then he girded up his loins and picked up his pen.

A little later

'So, that little round thing at the top of her, um, v-'

'Vagina…'

'Yes! The vagina, is called the, um, oh hang, it starts with c…'

'Clitoris.'

'Yes! The clitoris!' But then Hugh went from temporarily elated to very frustrated. 'I'm never going to remember all these names, sir.'

'Their names aren't that important, Hugh. You just need to know what each part does. So, what's important about the clitoris?' Jack asked.

If my old war buddies could see me now, he cringed to himself.

'Uh, well, sir, it's important because it gives the lady' – then Hugh mumbled into indecipherability.

Jack leaned forward. 'Sorry, I didn't catch that last bit.'

Hugh sighed. 'It gives her pleasure, sir.'

'Correct!' Jack smiled.

'Well, how does it work, then?'

Jack sat back in his chair.

Jack prised Phryne's ivory thighs apart, his mouth watering at the sight of her glistening core.

'Don't tease me, Jack,' she begged, her eyes wild.

He smirked, then lay on the bed between her long, long legs, letting her heavenly, exotic scent fill his head. A scent that was hers, and hers alone.

'Jack!'

He smiled, and languidly dragged his tongue along the inside of her thighs. Almost, but not quite to the centre of his existence - for the present time, at least. She squealed in frustration and clamped her thighs together, hoping to box his ears, but he anticipated that move. This was not the first time Jack Robinson had been in this position before.

He pulled her thighs apart and growled - just as his lips circled around her clitoris and gently pulled.

Phryne's moan of raw need was so loud that for a distracting second, he feared that Miss Williams and Mr Butler would hear them. But this beautiful, bewitching woman quickly distracted him from his distraction. She wound shaky fingers through his hair and begged him not to stop in a broken whisper.

He inspected her clitoris thoroughly with his tongue and his lips, each touch sending ripples of longing through Phryne's body. He teased her further by moving to her plump, glistening labia and drawing each one into his mouth. He'd return to the tiny bundle of nerves at intervals, alternating with each of her labia, careful to skirt around her soaked entrance – to his great cost. Phryne's thighs trembled, and she thrashed her hips about in agitation.

Without pausing, Jack placed a firm hand on her pelvis, anchoring her to the bed.

'Jack, please, I'm begging you!' she wailed. 'P-please, I need your tongue…'

To hear the Honourable Phryne Fisher beg for him turned his cock to stone.

She'd waited long enough.

He pressed his thumb to her button as he stabbed his tongue deep into her soaking wet core. An amateur would have presumed, from the scream she cut off by shoving her fist into her mouth that she'd orgasmed, but that was not the case.

He feasted on her. She made him ravenous. Her scent and the textures of her intimate body were addictive. He drank from her cunt, taking deep, hard pulls, alternating with his tongue along her vulva. He'd return to her clitoris, either lashing it with his tongue or dropping gentle kisses to soothe.

Phryne's breathing grew ragged. Looking along her lithe, creamy body, he smirked at her transformation from perfectly coiffed society beauty to wild, dishevelled lover. She was a study in bold colour – black hair, ruby lips, ivory skin. He gently ran his fingers through her trimmed pubic hair, then he eased two fingers into her hot and soaking core.

Her body arched off the bed and a torrent of words fell from her lips. 'Jack, please, oh my God, don't stop, I can't bear it…'

He curled those fingers inwards, searching for that one spot… just as he located it, he tugged on her clitoris with his lips.

Phryne's body stiffened, almost vibrating with energy. She flung her head back and her mouth opened on a soundless wail. 'God,' Jack groaned in bliss when her cunt gripped his fingers and fluttered delicately around them.

She found her voice, but her wail of ecstasy was cracked and broken. Her fingers gripped his hair, forcing him to stay as she ground her pussy into his face, drawing out those last, beautiful drops of bliss.

He didn't mind at all.

Phryne's breathing calmed, and Jack gently withdrew from her, kissing her clitoris gently one last time. He sat up, shaking his head to try and clear the insane rush of desire this woman invoked in him. To little effect.

Phryne also sat up, and crawled into his lap. Her mesmeric eyes locked on his.

'I knew you were the one, Jack,' she whispered.

He wrapped his hands around her tiny waist. 'What one?'

She smiled shyly. He'd never seen that before. 'My one.'

She kissed him, gently but thoroughly, darting out her tongue to clean her essence off his face.

'Funny you should say that, Miss Fisher,' he replied in a low voice. 'I think you're the one for me, too.'

Jack blinked.

Hugh was sitting across his desk, looking expectant.

Uh. Right. How the clitoris works…

'Well,' Jack began, 'it requires a direct touch. But you should always start off gentle. Manipulate it with your index finger – wet, so as not to cause friction. She'll let you know what she likes and doesn't like.'

'Okay, sir.' Hugh looked rather scared. 'How do I know if it's working?'

Phryne's silent orgasm surfaced in Jack's mind. He brutally shoved it aside. 'Uh, she'll make sounds of enjoyment, probably, and her vulva will become wetter – that's a good thing, Hugh – but if you're really unsure, ask her.'

Hugh nodded glumly.

Jack frowned. 'Is something the matter?'

'I really need to write this stuff down, sir!'

Jack sighed and handed him some scrap paper.

A/N: Hugh has another question for Jack in chapter two!

If any Dramione fans have read this chapter, may I say 'congratulations!' and I promise I haven't neglected Stopover 2 or Treacherous Affairs 2. On my honour!