Chapter Eleven
"Now let's see, everything is looking pretty good. And what is this, hm, Phryne?"
"Something is wrong, Mac?"
"Not at all, just that someone got lucky last night."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh do not be coy, Phryne. I see sperm right here. So who was he?"
"What do you mean?! I am a married woman!"
"Are you blushing? I should mark the day on my calendar. The day I saw Phryne Fisher blush. Seriously!"
"Phryne Robinson, if you please."
"So you have been having marital relations?"
"What is that smirk about, Mac? And what is so strange about that?"
"The day I redid the stitches on your Inspector's arm… It was the first time you saw him shirtless. It was clear as day. So there was no wedding night for you two. I assume something changed? Tell me everything."
"Elizabeth Macmillan, are you inquiring about my sex life with my husband? You, who have no interest in men?"
"You blushed, Phryne. That is enough to pick my interest. And it was a long time coming for you two, so spill."
"I do not know where to begin… I had all kinds of lovers with all kinds of fetishes, but never had someone as tender and attentive as Jack. The very first time I shamelessly begged him, because I just could not contain myself anymore. I danced tango before, but I have not experienced such pent up passion without even a touch on unclothed skin. That time Jack let me have all the pleasure I wanted. It could have continued the same way if I had not insisted. He asks if it hurts or if I am uncomfortable. I know he holds back because of the baby, but it still feels utterly divine! Jack is clearly less experienced than some of my other lovers, but it feels different, better, there is more, I do not know…"
"He is right to hold back. You are almost thirty three, Phryne. And your lifestyle did take a tall on your body, all that booze and sex too. You do not want complications. And I did hear that having sex and making love do feel considerably different. Ouch, Phryne! Do not put your legs together so suddenly. Hey, you okay? You look white as a sheet. Oh, dear… deep breaths, Phryne, deep breaths. You did not know? The man who marries a woman who cares the child of another is either a saint or he is in love with her. And despite Jack Robinson's admirable qualities, he is no saint."
Phryne's world shuttered in a blink of an eye. Jack loved her. He loved her. Most certainly for years. Probably since before Gertie's accident. Loved her unconditionally and she flaunted her lovers in front of him, teased him mercilessly, put herself in jeopardy from which he always saved her. She has been torturing him with her reckless and scandalous behavior, ruined his reputation and he did not say a word. And when she was in need, he went and married her, continuing to suffer day by day with her senseless attitude of demanding signs of affection she did not deserve. A good wife indeed.
"I… I need to go."
"Do not forget your underwear, dear."
…..
Phryne hailed a cab and ordered it to go to City South Police Station. Upon arrival she rushed through the doors and the hall to the door to Jack's office. The constable on the desk did not deter her since all officers at the station knew all the attempts were futile. Phryne Robinson nee Fisher could get anywhere she wanted if anybody else wanted her or not.
Phryne burst into Jack's oh so familiar office. The place where it all started. Or maybe it was her parlor? Or the Ballarat Train? Or maybe on their very first scene of the crime?
"What are you doing here, Phryne? How did your visit go? Is everything alright?"
Phryne watched Jack's features as he guided her to his chair that was certainly more comfortable than the visitor's. She could not understand how she was so blind. There was love in Jack's every glance, every gesture, every said and unsaid word. It was all there in the open and she did not see it!
"Everything is perfect, Jack. You are perfect."
"That is a high praise."
"You deserve it."
….
Phryne did not know what to do with the new founded information about Jack's feelings. She did not want to confront him, moreover she was not sure if she shared the sentiment. Her feelings for Jack were complicated. She had never truly loved any man in her life. There were lingering attachments, but Renée did spoil her for giving her heart to anybody completely. Phryne decided to wait for the opportune moment to breach that topic with Jack and once she sorted through her own tangled feelings. But at the moment, they had another murder mystery to solve.
The mystery that required Phryne going to the police archives. Jane left for a week to visit a friend, so Phryne was more or less bored out of her wits, thus suggested to be of aid to the police. The murder at hand seemed to be perpetrated by a copy cat killer and all material on the original murders was needed. Phryne, though, also had an alternative motive to get down into the dusty archives. The matter of Jack's fresh scar was still bothering her. She recalled that Jack took a sudden three weeks leave to visit his parents. He told her that it was actually preplanned long ago and he did not have to inform her of his movements. Phryne remembered Jack looking tired and grumpy that day. So now she knew the approximate date, she only had to find the arrest report on that resisting suspect.
Four hours later and with newspaper clippings spread all around her, Phryne heard someone clearing their throat.
"Yes? Oh, it is you, Hugh."
"Good day, Miss Fi-, I mean Missis Robinson. The Inspector sent me to ask if you… need anything?"
"No, I am perfectly fine, Hugh. I think I will be finished by the evening. I do not mind having a snack though." She gestured for Hugh to bend closer and whispered, "Are those archive clerks still watching me from behind the shelves?"
"Ye-e-es. I do not think there are used to a lady like you to come down here."
"Oh, I think they are much more interested in something else."
Phryne was sure that the moment she wrote 'Mrs. Phryne Robinson' into the archive visitors' register, the news of her presence spread like wildfire. She was considerably showing so there were no two possible opinions about her condition. Everyone in the station knew her that way or another. But nobody was sure…
"If you could ask one of the clerks to leave everything as I arranged till my return, I think we can go for lunch. You are to keep me company, I presume?"
"Well, yes…"
"It is alright, Hugh. Do not tell Jack, but moving around on foot is a bit tiring for me. Police escort is more than welcome."
Phryne debated if saying goodbye to Jack would feed the station gossip mill even more, but had to pull Hugh towards her husband's office when she heard her name mentioned and in an angry tone no less.
"Good day, gentlemen," she greeted the guests in Jack's office, who happened to be Chief Superintendent and Deputy Commissioner.
"This is what I am talking about, Robinson! What is she doing here?!" the Deputy Commissioner barked.
Phryne saw a vein pulse on Jack's jaw. He was doing all he could not to shout in return. "I am helping with the investigation, as always. Leading Senior Constable Collins was taking me to lunch, why do you not join us, gentlemen? I am sure Inspector has his hands full with the recent serial copy cat killer."
And that was how Hugh Collins found himself having the most awkward lunch in one of the most expensive establishments in Melbourne while Missis Robinson buttered up the brass with her usual charm and exquisite food.
…..
"You were not stabbed by a resisting suspect, Jack."
"Do we really need to talk about it now?"
Phryne knew Jack was exhausted. The double portion of whiskey in his tumbler, the unfastened tie, the dark circles under his eyes were all clear indicators of the hellish week that they lived through while searching for and finally apprehending the copy cat killer. She knew that all Jack wanted was to drink his whiskey, take a bath and get to bed.
"Yes, Jack, I need to know what happened."
"What does it matter? Oh, God, Phryne, what are you doing?"
"I am massaging your burdened shoulders, cheri. You own me the truth."
"So you are bribing me?"
"Do not deflect."
"It was James Prescott."
"Prescott? That lunatic? The one whom I almost shot because he dared to appear here, scared Dot half to death, and tried, unsuccessfully, to convince me I am his soul mate or other such nonsense! And he stabbed you, whatever for?"
"He was under the impression that he could not get you without getting rid of me first. He got to me near my house, so I managed to call a patrol to your house to tell them that a disturbed individual may attempt to break in or assault you."
"I was surprised the police arrived so fast, otherwise I would have definitely shot him. In the leg, but still. What happened next?"
"I called in a favor from an old friend who was an army surgeon, he patched me up and I recuperated at my parents'."
"Why did you not press chargers? Do your parents know what happened?"
"No, nobody knew. I did not want to drag it through the court."
"Prescott stabbed you! You could have bled to death! And he was just sent into a psychiatric facility!"
"Did you really want me to go in front of the judge and say that I was assaulted because the perpetrator thought I was your lover? No matter the sentence, it would have been the end of everything. Demotion, reassignment, anything could have happened with one result."
Phryne hugged the tired Inspector from the back and rubbed her cheek against his. She felt the roughness of Jack's stubble. He was so invested into the investigation that did not have time to shave that morning since he actually slept at the station, or did not sleep at all, was Phryne's guess. "Oh, cheri, why must you be so serious all the time?"
"One of us has to be."
"I am serious about everything that concerns us, all three of us. And because of that we need to get you to bed and I am going to give you a back massage."
"Phryne… you do not have-"
"It is not for free. Dot is not here tonight to help me undress, so you have to apply your dexterous fingers to the buttons once again."
Jack had no strength to argue so he stood up, hearing a crack in his stiff back (to what Phryne gave him a meaningful look) and followed her upstairs to her boudoir where she completed the daily ritual of dressing and preparing for bed. But she did not use the bed anymore, joining Jack in his room every night.
Jack knew that Phryne was quite capable of undressing herself, but complied with her request. He understood that the process of undressing substituted foreplay in a sense, she wanted him to get used to touching her and Jack was grateful for that. For years he kept in check his smoldering desire to step over the threshold of her bedroom. But despite the yearning, the primal need to touch, to pleasure and worship her body, Jack remained indecisive. Because it would complicate their professional relationship, because of the possible backlash at his work, because she did not…
But there was also a very personal reason, he was rather ashamed of, but could not overcome easily. Jack was well aware of Phryne's large sexual appetite. He was sure that she was very vocal, knew and communicated what she wanted, could be the dominant one and enjoyed variety in all aspects of sexual pleasures which was the complete opposite of any other typical wife. And Jack had no problem with all that. He had problem of how to satisfy someone who had and could have any man to do whatever she wanted if the previous one did not satisfy her in some way.
"Ah, I am getting fatter by the day!" Phryne exclaimed, looking at her now exposed belly, since Jack dialed with all her outer clothes, leaving her standing in underwear in front of the mirror.
"You are not fat, Phryne. You are pregnant."
"Do you think I am ugly?"
"What a ridiculous notion! The woman is her most beautiful when caring a new life inside her."
"This is just a generalization."
"You are gorgeous, Phryne, no matter how you look like or what you wear… or not."
"You sure?"
Jack chuckled at Phryne displaying such insecurity while he was thinking about his. They truly were quite a pair. "I am quite sure. And someone promised me a massage."
…
"Uuuuuuuum, why am I still surprised at you knowing how to do anything under the sun?"
"I learned this massage technique while in China, Jack. It is very effective for relaxing stiff muscles… among other things. Especially if you use the right oil. Tell me about your scars, Jack."
"Why do you want to know?"
"You know the story behind the scars on my heart. I want to know about yours. What about these ones? Under the left shoulder blade."
"Fell from a tree at ten, broke two ribs."
"Must have hurt."
"Like you would not believe. I do not remember crying so much in my life. The other boys I was playing with, called me a sissy for it, but they knew nothing of the pain I was going through."
"And the tiny star shaped scar on the left side?"
"Stray bullet during the war."
"The one on the chest?"
"Cut by a knife during pursuit of the suspect during my constable days. Have you made an inventory, Phryne? How do you remember them all?"
"Every scar holds the story of your life, cheri. I want to know about it, experience it through you. I have been frequently told that my life is full of adventure and daring pursuits, but yours is not less full of exiting and dangerous events that I eager to learn about." Phryne moved to straddle Jack's hips to apply more pressure with her hands. She made the right choice if Jacks moans of pleasure were any indication. "I also wanted to ask something else… who was your first woman?"
"A rather strange question."
"Just tell me."
"You know who."
"Rosie?!"
"What is so strange about that?"
"But you married at twenty two! Did you not have… curiosity?"
"I was a very ambitious young man, my time in the academy was spent on studying and not fooling around like a lot of my mates did. Later I took the pledge to the police force very seriously and did everything to get promoted faster than the said mates. I was not planning on marrying so young. But it happened…"
"I cannot imagine you acting like Hugh, all blushing and flustered around women."
"I just hid it well."
"It is none of my business what happened or did not happen between you and Rosie in your bedroom, but… since we are sharing this bed, I want our time to be enjoyable. And before you start with this nonsense about me finding sexual partners on the side, I tell you once again, that I do not want anybody else. I cannot imagine any woman refusing your glorious body. What I am trying to say is that you cannot close the door on that part of your life, Jack Robinson. You are just barely over forty, a man in his prime.
If you have any… desires, fantasies, something you wanted to try, but never asked for, I am always open to suggestions. Fulfilling only my wishes is not an option. I know you have them too, but I need you to vocalize them for them to come to life. Not everything can be realized due to pregnancy, but the possibilities are still extensive. Moreover, if you… feel up to it in the morning, no matter how early, I will certainly not mind been woken up this way. So do not hesitate."
Jack was glad they were not facing each other at the moment, otherwise he would revert to the flustered image of his youth. He would have never had such conversation with Rosie. They were both young and inexperienced, so Jack felt rather frustrated at times, since he did not know if their bed encounters were pleasurable for his young wife.
But with Phryne the whole experience was exactly the opposite. Jack was quite aware that she liked to spend time with men in bed, at all times of the day. For some reason she liked to spend time in bed with him too. The night after he got injured propelled their relationship a great deal forward. Though Jack did not know for how long he could resist touching the woman in his bed. Just watching her sleep, the perfect line of her ivory neck calling for him to taste it…
As for his desires… One of them has been fulfilled to a degree. The other one… He did not lose hope as of yet. But he could not tell them to his wife since those desires could be brought to life with no conscious action.
"Now I am so relaxed, Phryne, I cannot even move to put on my pajamas properly." That was a bit of a lie, since her movements against his hips during the massage, steered all kinds of tension.
"There is no need, cheri. You are much… warmer without the top."
"So I am your bed warmer now?"
"You mind?"
"Not at all."