The enormity of the emotional weight pressed fullest in the small hours of the morning, after Mac had had a few hours of fitful slumber. She turned on her side, away from Phryne, and covered her face with her hand, endeavoring to weep in silence.
But to no avail, as the grief shook her body and the sobs caught in her throat, dragging out choking noises and heaving sighs over which she had no control.
Before long Mac felt arms wrapping around her waist, the warm press of Phryne's front against her back. Mac rested her arm across Phryne's with a long sigh. "I'm bloody sorry," she strangled out.
"Shhhh." Phryne's exhalation fanned warm breath on the delicate skin just behind Mac's ear. If Phryne had it right, Mac hadn't wept since they'd embraced in the City South Station cell. It was something she needed.
"Oh, Phryne," she whispered, letting herself go completely.
The two lay there, spooned together, until Mac's tears finally ran out. She felt limp and heavy, but Phryne's arms around her spread a kind of warmth and comfort throughout her body.
Hugging Mac tighter, Phryne pressed a kiss to the side of her neck and rested her forehead on her hair.
Then Mac realized that Phryne hummed a tune. Not a lullaby – Phryne probably didn't know any, or maybe it hurt too much to remember them – but Mac thought she recognized the melody to "Creole Love Call," and the corners of her mouth twitched into a grin.
Gratefulness swelling up in her chest, Mac turned suddenly and burrowed her face against Phryne's collar bone, slipping an arm around to her back to pull her close. Phryne's fingers danced slowly up and down Mac's spine, lingering over the green silk, traveling lower with each pass of her hand. Mac closed her eyes, breathing deeply and allowing Phryne to draw away the heaviness of her body.
One of Phryne's hands glided up and threaded into Mac's auburn curls at the nape of her neck. She guided Mac's head back so she could look at her steadily, and started placing gentle kisses upon her friend's face – first cheeks, followed by forehead, nose, each eyelid, and chin. Then, at the feel of Phryne's lips upon hers, Mac froze, her eyes opening. But the kiss was tender, small, Phryne pulling away slightly before resting her forehead down on Mac's, her own eyes still shut.
"Phryne?"
At the note of uncertainty in Mac's voice, Phryne's eyelids fluttered open, and she stared right into her friend's eyes in the dim light. "Yes, Mac?" she whispered.
"You don't have to –"
Phryne brought her hand from Mac's hair to her lips, silencing her much as she'd done before. Her lips twitched into a half smirk, but her eyes filled with compassion and care. "Since when have I ever done anything I didn't want to do?" When Mac's eyes softened with understanding and amusement, Phryne traced her fingers over Mac's lips lightly, then replaced them with her own.
The kiss began the same as the first one, Phryne's lips barely touching hers, making Mac uncertain as to what exactly her friend had in mind. Mac sighed when Phryne nibbled on her bottom lip before sealing their lips together more adamantly. One of Phryne's hands had remained upon the small of her back, but Mac gasped when the other – which had started wandering over her arm and side through the emerald silk – cupped her breast.
Stilling her hand and leaning back, Phryne studied Mac's reddened and half-confused, half-enthralled face. "Do you want me to stop?" she asked seriously.
Mac looked at her friend – her own Phryne whom she'd known so bloody long – and knew. She knew that Phryne longed to give her comfort, to help her lose herself for a while in something other than pain and loss and grief. To give her something else to feel and think about for at least a little while.
She also saw a glint of desire in the blue eyes that gazed into hers, their darkened color evident even by the poor light of the one lamp. And Mac understood that Phryne not only wanted to help her, she wanted her. It shone all over Phryne's flushed visage.
All of this still might have given Mac pause, but she recognized that if anyone knew her own mind, could act decisively for what she wanted, it was Phryne Fisher.
So, searching her eyes, Mac brushed her fingers over Phryne's cheekbone and shook her head. "No. Don't stop. Please."
Smiling softly, Phryne captured her lips between her own again and kneaded her breast through the dressing gown. Mac tangled her fingers into the smooth raven tresses, guiding her head closer and groaning when Phryne pushed her tongue into her mouth.
It was different, being with Phryne, different than being with anyone else. The only thing holding Phryne's naturally passionate nature in check was her love and true concern for Mac. Even the way she pressed Mac back against the mattress, untied the dressing gown, glided her hand down to caress between her legs… her touches were tender at the same time that they generated an intense heat, and Mac felt as if she had burst into flame, a flame tended by the most devoted steward. Normally Mac would be the dominant lover, but she allowed – in fact took great delight in – Phryne taking the lead, needing someone who would show her adoration, desire, and care.
And as Phryne's fingers and kisses coaxed a series of long, low moans from Mac's throat, she felt exactly that: cared for, desired, and adored.
Phryne had turned on a few more lamps and brought Mac's suit jacket over to her so she could fish out her cigarettes and lighter. From her place propped up against the headboard, the green dressing gown drawn loosely about her, Mac lit a cigarette and watched Phryne pour them another drink, the salmon silk of her pajamas swishing around her body as her raven bob swished around her face.
Bringing the glasses over to the bed, Phryne handed one to Mac and climbed up beside her, resting one arm across the back of the pillows and playing with a lock of red hair, twisting and untwisting the curl around her fingers.
As Mac exhaled a long stream of smoke and then sipped at the whiskey, Phryne asked, "Are you feeling a bit better now?"
Mac cut her eyes to her, but discerned not even a hint of teasing. After another drag on the cigarette, she turned her head to Phryne. "Yes and no, I suppose."
"I suspected as much." She nodded and drank deeply.
"Phryne, we both know what this was."
Cocking her head to the side, Phryne smiled gently. "If I hadn't thought you understood, I wouldn't have initiated anything, Mac. I know you aren't completely yourself. You're my dearest friend, and I would never hurt you for a few hours of pleasure."
Mac threw her head back and laughed. "A few hours?"
"The night isn't over yet," Phryne stated matter-of-factly with a toss of her hair before she took another drink.
"Well, I might take you up on that. I won't say it's not a welcome diversion." Grinning, she sipped the whiskey and inhaled deeply from the cigarette.
"And it does come with certain perks." She chuckled.
"Such as?" Mac's eyebrows rose.
"Such as… you actually know where everything is and what feels nice. Men aren't always so cognizant of such things."
Mac snorted. "Women aren't always either."
"Yes, so I know." Phryne waggled her brows. "But I wasn't speaking of women in general."
"And what made you think I would know?"
Phryne finished her drink and got up to pour another before answering. "For one, you're a doctor."
Nearly snorting again, Mac let out a puff of smoke instead. "I'm sure you've known your share of doctors who don't know their way around a woman – as a lover or as a physician."
"Touché, Mac." She waved a finger in the air as she came back to the bed, reclining once more and again seizing a coil of auburn hair to play with. "But you are also incredibly sharp, almost unbearably witty, and you are a perfectionist. In everything."
"You've got me with that one." Smirking and crushing out the last of the cigarette in the receptacle Phryne had provided, she concentrated on her drink. "And the other 'perks'?"
Phryne's brows knit together for a few seconds before her expression cleared. "Right. I don't have to worry about 'family planning.' It was rather exciting to be completely spontaneous for a change. Sometimes having to remember to bring Madame Stropes into the bedroom with you can put a slight damper on enthusiasm."
"It's not exactly a ménage a trois, is it?" Mac chuckled and took a drink. "Although I'm sure you're quite adept at not letting it slow you down by now." She quirked an eyebrow up at the other woman.
"Well." Phryne grinned in that pleased way she had, her head bouncing slightly from side to side, her somewhat mussed black crop of hair quivering with the motion. "I suppose after so much practice, I'm no slouch, but I defer to you as the expert."
Letting out a bark of laughter, Mac held her drink aloft in order not to spill it and pushed herself back into the pillows, shaking her head from side to side. "In theory, not in practice." She turned her head back to Phryne, grinning.
"Then may our different areas of expertise always mesh so well – in all our joint endeavors." Holding up her glass, she waited for Mac to clink her glass to it with a hearty "hear, hear," before they both downed the rest.
"Was there another perk?" Mac inquired as Phryne took her glass away and moved to the bureau once more.
Phryne stopped and spun around, watching Mac light another cigarette with her deft fingers. "Those few hours I mentioned?" At Mac's chuckle, Phryne poured the drinks and went on. "Not that I haven't found a few men capable of that. But they can't all be Lin Chungs."
Mac took the drink Phryne held out to her once she'd flounced back onto the bed, and turned her head a bit to blow smoke away from her. Then she looked at her with mischief in her eyes. "And what about your inspector?"
The brief look of shock on Phryne's face satisfied Mac more than it probably should have. It cleared almost instantly as Phryne twitched her shoulders and drank. "Jack would never trespass upon his honor with the likes of me. He's married."
"Unhappily." Mac had a healthy swig of whiskey and a long drag on her cigarette, observing her friend carefully. Two tiny spots of pink had manifested themselves upon Phryne's cheekbones – certainly not an ordinary occurrence.
"That's beside the point, Mac. We work together, and it would probably ruin everything." She looked down into her glass, tracing a finger around its rim. "And I suppose your question is how I would imagine he'd be."
"Yes, that was my question." Letting out an extended curl of smoke in the opposite direction and pausing to pick a bit of tobacco off her tongue, she kept her eyes on Phryne.
Phryne took a deep breath. "He has quiet reserves of strength and humor, Jack does. I can imagine that once unleashed, his sexual prowess would be something truly incredible to behold. Particularly combined with his tender sensibilities and otherwise gentle nature." She began to smile, her eyes still upon the glass.
Cocking her head slowly, Mac stared at Phryne for a moment while she appeared lost in thought. If she hadn't known better, she might have thought….
But her contemplations were interrupted by Phryne's sudden laugh. "Jack Robinson is too buttoned up to let any of that show to anyone, I'm sure. Least of all me." She drank deeply, her eyes flicking up to Mac's face and then back down. "All that will ever between Jack and me is a bit of a flirtation, sarcasm, and our squabbles over whose case it is." She shrugged. "Which suits me very well." When she lifted her head to meet Mac's eyes again, the auburn-haired woman detected the faintest hint of sadness in her friend's countenance.
"Phryne," Mac intoned softly. Leaning over, holding drink and cigarette away as best she could, she pressed her lips to Phryne's, kissing her gently.
When she drew away, Phryne smirked. "You taste like whiskey and cigarettes."
"Hmm, well," she mused, stubbing the cigarette out and swallowing the last of the alcohol, "that could be changed soon enough." Mac's eyebrow rose impishly.
"Sounds like a marvelous idea, Mac." Putting her glass aside, Phryne cupped Mac's face and kissed her in return, humming with renewed desire.