Beautifully dutiful
Dot had never really thought much about her employers until the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher. They were just a series of women; some better, some worse, which she served. Some wanted her to do things with electricity, and that was why, at 20, she had had so many already. But Miss Phryne blew them all out of the water.
She would expect Dot to answer the telephone in the middle of the night to go join her in some nefarious scheme, and it didn't matter if the chief of police was involved, it wasn't normal. Dot was good at normal. She was dutiful. She wasn't any good pretending she needed backyard family planning.
She was good at dressing her mistress, whoever she might be, she could read better than most, and she made a perfect cup of tea. Miss Phryne had said so herself.
At first she was wary of the eccentric millionaire, then grateful to her, then wary again, because while Dot was sure Phryne would defend Dot with her very life, she was very good at endangering the both of them. Sometimes Dot envied Mr. Butler, staying out of all the action, but she was young and she guessed that was the best time to enjoy it, and enjoy it she did, apart from a few heart-poundingly desperate moments.
There had been a Mrs. Butler at some point, Dot was sure, but as to what had happened to her no one knew, not even Phryne.
It was all very well, dating a policeman, but he didn't make her feel special or beautiful, the way Phryne did when she forced Dot out of her uniformly brown clothes and into some frivolity or other of her own, eyes sparkling with merriment. He didn't make her glow inside like Miss Phryne did when she praised Dot's tea. He didn't make her feel.
Sometimes Dot felt Miss Phryne's eyes appraising her in that cool way she had, drifting from backside to bosom to face as Dot turned toward her mistress. Dot never said anything, but she held the scrutiny in that gaze close. Was Miss Phryne wondering why she let such a drab creature into her home? Was she wondering why she housed, clothed and fed such a timid, mousy thing?
It wasn't until she bathed Miss Phryne a few weeks later that she got her answer.
Phryne, not known for her modesty, yawned and stretched in the tub, bringing her breasts above the water level and to Dot's attention, stilling her hand where it had been gently washing blood from her mistress's shoulder, a remainder from her latest hijinks.
Phryne felt the stilling of her maid's hand and turned her head to see what had caught her attention. She smiled at the embarrassed flush on her young employee's face.
"Would you like to join me, Dotty," Miss Phryne asked casually.
"Oh, no, Miss," Dot replied, sounding a little shocked. Phryne liked to shock her.
"And how many times must I ask you to simply call me Phryne?" Miss Phryne followed.
"At least one more, Miss," Dot said a little more firmly.
"Oh, come on Dot, don't be such a spoilsport. There's room enough, and god knows I'm lonely."
Not quite sure why, Dot slipped out of her damp brown frock and homely underthings and slid into the tub.
"That's more like it, girl," Phryne said approvingly. Dot just nodded and leaned forward to finish cleaning the wound. A knife it had been, this time, straight into the shoulder, three weeks ago. As she was concentrating on Phryne's shoulder, Phryne was focused on Dot's face. And eventually she caught Dot under the chin with a slender, elegant hand and turned Dot's face so Phryne's lips met hers, just gently.
Dot didn't pull away, so Phryne deepened the peck into a kiss, at which Dot leapt backward, spilling water on the marble floor.
"Miss, I'm sure you shouldn't be doing that," Dot said finally, aghast.
"And I'm equally sure I should." Phryne said in that self-assured way she had, so Dot stayed still while Miss Phryne leaned forward to catch her mouth with her own again.
Dot shut her eyes though, and kept them clenched shut, even when Phryne pulled away.
"I'm very grateful to you, Miss, and I'm sure I'll be happy to acquiesce to any demand you gave of me," she said quietly. Phryne pushed herself away from Dot with a huff.
"If you think I want you to do this out of some form of gratitude... I guess Mac was right.., you really are too straight-edged."
"Wait - you talked to Miss Mac about this?" Dot asked, confused.
"Well, I had to have some form of Sapphic opinion than my own - which doesn't count, because I'm only a dabbler - but when I saw you looking, well - I thought I must be right."
"A Sapphic dabbler?" Dot asked a little desperately, trying to keep up with the frantic pace of this rather one-sided conversation.
"Oh, damn it all, Dot, I thought you felt the same," Miss Phryne said. "You can leave, if you want. I'll take care of this myself," she said, a hand slipping unmistakably beneath the water. Dot just sat there, mouth slightly open, before finally leaning in and taking Phryne's arm at the elbow, pulling it above the water.
"I'm your maid, Miss. I can't let you do something you'd rather I did."
"Not just because you're my maid," said Phryne with a pout.
"Not just because I'm your maid," agreed Dot, kissing Miss Phryne in a way she'd never kissed her insipid policeman.
Miss Fisher was used to luxury; the Frenchest of champagnes, the most Belgium of chocolates. That she chose Dot made her feel like another luxury Miss Phryne indulged in. The way Phrye's bed felt beneath her was luxurious too, but not as luxurious as Miss Phryne's tongue dancing over a place, as a Catholic, she'd never referred to as anything other than 'down there'.
As a lady's maid, Dot had always been dutiful. So she turned to the task in front of her with equal fervor.
Later, still lying in Phryne's bed, Phryne's head on Dot's chest, Dot's fingers absentmindedly stroking short black hair, Dot thought she had never felt as beautiful as she did at that moment; gloriously naked and intertwined with the most compelling and confusing woman she'd ever met.
Author's note: quick oneshot, just watched the show and this sprung at me like a tiger in heat. No offense meant.