Welcome to the 6th installment of the Phryniverse-Series. As usual, it is readable as a stand-alone story. I would recommend having read "A Time For Everything" before this, however, as it's heavily referred to. Thanks go out to Ethelfreda and Changedstripes for their input and apologies to everyone who has been waiting. Enjoy!

Autumn wind blew an old newspaper through the dark alleyway, while the moon shone curiously on a couple in the shadows, entwined in a rather obvious position against a brick wall. A drunken sailor was yelling at his mate somewhere in the distance, followed by the sound of a smashing bottle. A dog barked in response. The panting man, trapping his sex partner against the brick, seemed oblivious to either. He was standing with one foot in a puddle of something he rather didn't enquire into, while her back slammed into cold stone. This wasn't a place for love or romance and it wasn't about either, his heavy breathing and rough touches told any onlookers in clear language. The moon looked a little closer at the handsome face underneath dark hair, currently dishevelled by the hand of a blonde woman fisting into it. His eyes were squeezed shut tightly, as he slammed against her. She threw her head back as he grabbed her thigh harder, increased his efforts. Her moans didn't sound real, even to his ears, but Jack Robinson didn't care. Nobody would expect a woman of her occupation to genuinely enjoy physical relations. He glanced at her briefly, then shut his eyes again, let his body take over. He could hear his blood pound in his ears. The Inspector tried not to think of Phryne, while his groans washed over the dark cobbles. He just needed to get done here, go home, take a bath and crawl into her bed and things would be alright. Nell's hand grabbing painfully at his hair in something resembling ecstasy, brought him back to the here and now and the cold creeping underneath his skin, while his body started to respond to the nearness of a woman that was very much not Phryne. His traitorous body.

He hated right now to have approached her of all people. Dot's sister. It was laughable and embarrassing. But he trusted her more than any of the other girls to be able to keep her mouth shut, once this was over. The Inspector really didn't want this incident to make the rounds. Nell squirmed in his arms, pretending to get close to her climax and Jack held on tight, slamming between her legs another time, a groan escaping his throat, that was only half-acted as he thought of his wife. It drowned out quiet footsteps. The blade of a knife flashed in the moonlight, the world held it's breath.

"Drop it," Phryne's cold voice cut through the night. Jack froze, mid-thrust, then drew cold air into his stinging lungs, before gently setting Nell back to her feet and turning around. The killer standing behind him was currently letting his arm sink slowly. Then the steel of his knife clattered over the cobbles. Jack avoided looking at Phryne, who was holding a golden gun to the guy's head with a pleasant smile on her lips, as he reached out and pulled the dark mask away.

"Darius Johnson! Who would have thought?" Jack stated dryly.

He was still fishing the cuffs from his belt, trying to not look at either woman, when two policemen in dark uniforms came running around the corner.

"Collins, Jones, over here. What the heck happened to you sticking around?"

"Sorry, Sir," Constable Collins gasped. "There was a suspect sneaking around and we chased after him."

"So, since it wasn't 'The Butcher', I assume you at least found another dangerous criminal?" Inspector Robinson asked, his brows raised. A faint grin ghosted over Johnson's face, that evaporated quickly, when Phryne took the safety off her pistol, letting him know she considered him moving a very bad idea.

The two Constables looked at each other with some embarrassment.

"Well?" Jack asked, casually, while applying handcuffs to the unresisting serial-killer.

"It was only Trudy Plywood, Sir. She was trying to rob a drunken guy a street over though."

"Well I am very glad that he got to keep his three pounds, while I was almost stabbed in the back," the Inspector stated, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Jack," Phryne whispered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

The DI knew it wasn't really their fault. He should have taken more people. But truth be told, he hadn't wanted to be seen by half of City South pretending to have sex with a prostitute. It was embarrassing enough that his wife and two of his most trusted men had witnessed this spectacle. Besides said prostitute of course, who had lost interest in the scene and was now fixing her sparse clothing.

Nell looked tired. Near death-experiences were never very pleasant, even though "The Butcher" had targeted only punters, while leaving the girls behind alive with men bleeding to death on top of them. It wasn't a great ending to anyone's night and Jack was relieved that it was over; even more that there was no knife sticking in his back. But what a long day it had been.

"Get him to the Station," the Inspector ordered, resisting the urge to tidy up his dishevelled clothing till the quiet man had been dragged off by the Constables.

"Would you like a ride home?" he asked Nell, who was still standing in silence. Now she smiled.

"Thank you, but that's not necessary. I know the area quite well, Inspector Robinson."

She winked at him in a way that made clear that she had already brushed off the experience. Something told him, it would take him a little longer to achieve this.

"Goodnight then," Phryne called after her happily.

"Goodnight," Jack parroted and Nell turned, waving.

She walked off with swaying hips into the moonlight leaving behind Inspector and Mrs. Robinson in utter silence. When Jack turned to finally look at his wife, she had just slipped her pistol back into her pocket and reached out a hand to brush his hair back into place.

"There," she smiled. Jack realised that he was standing in front of Phryne with his shirt crumpled and smelling of cheap perfume. Nevertheless he could not bring himself to regret having asked her along for this dangerous experiment in police work.

"Thank you," he said, meaning a lot more than fixing his hair.

"Any time, Inspector," she grinned, taking his hand and dragging him to where her Hispano was parked in a dark corner three streets down.

"You were quite convincing," she grinned, as she pulled out onto the street. The cool night wind cooled Jack's still flushed cheeks.

"I didn't have much choice, Miss Fisher," he explained quietly. She glanced at him, briefly laying her hand on his knee, before she returned it to the steering wheel.

"I know that, Jack."

The Inspector stared ahead, wondering if he should tell her what was on his mind. He felt dirty. Not because Nell was a lady of the night, but because she wasn't Phryne. And because even the most dedicated of husbands couldn't stay completely unaffected by being wrapped in a woman's legs, grinding his hips against hers. Miss Fisher was too good a detective and too good a wife to not have noticed that. He still pondered this, when they arrived home. While the detectives slipped up the dark stairs, trying not to wake Mr. Butler or Jane, he made a decision. He would have to talk to her before any lingering guilt or suspicion could cause damage and pain. But when he stepped into her bedroom, intent on following through, he found himself being grabbed and spun, his back hitting the door, before Phryne launched onto his neck. This time the groan was very real.

"Phryne," he managed to whisper, his head already swimming.

"Yes, Jack?"

Her hand trailed up the inside of his pants leg and he knew if he let her continue, things would spin out of control quickly. He gently grabbed her wrist, stilling her.

"We need to talk."

Phryne rolled up her eyes in mock annoyance, but took a step backwards.

"If you would like to tell me that you are feeling guilty, I know that," she smiled. "And also, that you started to enjoy yourself a little, back there."

In amused embarrassment, Jack ran his free hand over his face.

"I wouldn't exactly describe it as enjoyment, Miss Fisher."

"Let's call a spade a spade, Jack. You're body was getting excited by a compromising position with an attractive woman. Stranger things have happened."

She looked up at him, her eyes glittering with humour. Jack was still wondering if it could really be this easy, when he felt himself being dragged into a passionate kiss. He gave in for a moment, allowed himself to fall into her touch. But it wasn't quite right.

"Phryne?"

She retreated, sighing.

"You know, Jack, I had to watch my husband having sex all evening," she grinned mischievously. "And I would like to do this now from a much closer position, if you don't mind."

She didn't mention that while Jack's display hadn't left her completely cold, it had also woken a smidgen of jealousy. Together with the adrenaline and fear, when she had noticed that the killer had almost slipped past her, with the other policemen gone and Jack seemingly oblivious, those emotions mixed into the intense urge to feel him close.

He smiled at her wryly, then pulled her into his arms.

"I was just trying to point out that I do need a bath first. God knows, what I stood in in this alley."

She looked at him, understanding. Then a grin spread over her face, while her hand slipped over the fabric of his trousers, drawing a low growl from him.

"I think that can be arranged, Inspector."

Before he had a chance to kiss her again, she had twirled on her heels and left to fill the tub. Jack stayed where he was, leaning against the supporting door at his back, his eyes following her across the room. It was almost two in the morning as his watch told him, and his limbs felt like lead, yet he was too strung up to even consider getting rest at this stage. Sleep never came easily after a nasty case. While DI Robinson happened to not feel too much sympathy for punters in general, the fact that five of them had died within three weeks, leaving five traumatised ladies behind, had called for some drastic actions. Nevertheless it had been a risky trick they had played and the Inspector could still feel the tension in his muscles.

"Are you coming, Jack?" a sweet voice asked, and he realised that his eyes had fallen shut, with his heavy head still leaning against the door. He pried them open with some effort and found that Phryne's clothes had disappeared. Obviously she was intent on joining him in the tub. Jack couldn't help but smile. Coming home to his wife, or rather coming home with Phryne after a long day like this, instead of to cold sheets and a book that failed to distract him, was still something he was getting used to. But it was beautiful.

"Jack?" she repeated grinning, while she slipped into the hot water.

"Sorry," he mumbled, disposing of his clothes. He made a mental note to try and sneak them into the washing machine in the morning, before either Mr. Butler or Mrs. Collins could pick up on their suspicious state. He had been accused of cheating on Phryne once before by a furious Mac and had no desire to repeat that experience.

When he finally joined Phryne in the tub, she had leaned back with her eyes closed. The rising steam smelled faintly of lavender, stirring up fond memories which did not change the fact, that there was little room for the Inspector to sit. Pulling his knees to his chest, he tried to get comfortable.

"You know that I would have been happy to replace Nell in this little charade, Jack," she stated casually, while shifting to give him a chance to unfold. "I did go undercover in a gentlemen's club before and was generally considered rather convincing."

Jack smirked to himself.

"I seem to remember that vividly, Miss Fisher," he stated, fishing for the sponge. "However, considering that I couldn't even make out Johnson's footsteps with Miss Williams distracting me, I would have probably ended with a knife in my back, had I attempted to keep my head with you in her place. So, while this wasn't a pleasant experience, I was rather glad that you had my back instead."

While he talked, Phryne had turned and Jack ran the sponge down her spine with gentle strokes. Now she peeked back at him with a cheeky smile.

"That was a terrible pun, Inspector," she quipped.

"Very true," he admitted, leaning forward to kiss her wet shoulder. "But I am glad that you were there to keep me from being killed."

Completely inconsiderate of getting his chest soapy, she leaned back, snuggling into him. Jack arm's came up to wrap around her, while her head rested against his shoulder. The Inspector allowed his eyes to fall shut again, feeling the tension drain from his aching body. Time with Phryne always seemed to have this effect, which was one of the reasons, he had never been able to resist spending the evening with her after a closed case, once she had opened her door to him. Despite his, through some miracle or another, having gone from standing beside her fireplace cradling a tumbler of Whisky to wrapping her in his soapy arms in her bathtub, her presence was still calming and exciting at the same time. And while tonight he had felt that it was wrong she would have to see his attempt at amateur acting, the knowledge that she literally was watching his back had taken his fear away. Nothing bad could happen to him while Phryne was protecting him. She would chase a demon back to hell, if it should attempt to harm him.

But there was something else, that had cemented his decision to involve her. The Inspector sensed he couldn't have done what he had, without her being there. He couldn't have come home afterwards to her being in the dark about why he was smelling of another woman or even her wondering what exactly had happened in his undercover work.

And of course, keeping secrets from her was still something he couldn't seem to accomplish, as a general rule. Phryne probably even knew that one of the many reasons why he had chosen Nell Williams for the act rather than his wife was, that he wouldn't risk putting her near the receiving end of a knife. And that he definitely didn't want to die pinning her to a dirty wall, screaming. Nevertheless he couldn't help but feel a sense of shame about the whole event.

"Phryne?" he asked, getting only soft murmuring in response. She seemed to have drifted off as well. "Tonight, I-"

He didn't get any further.

"Jack, please don't. You were doing your job. And right now, you are not somewhere in a back alley with Nell, but here with me."

She opened her eyes to look up at him, then lifted a hand from the tub to cup his cheek. Jack leaned into her wet embrace.

"I have no desire to be anywhere else," he whispered. She smiled in response.

"I am aware of that. So stop torturing yourself."

He nodded, wrapping his fingers over hers. So it was that easy! When he returned his hand to her chest, he brushed a nipple, drawing a soft moan from her. She gently squirmed to get in the right position for his touch.

"I do think, however, that you should demonstrate what exactly you were doing back there, Inspector," she murmured.

"I fear there was a whole lot less than I intend to do later in the night," Jack grinned, while his hand found the sponge again.

"Is that so?" Phryne asked in mock surprise. "Please do tell."

"There will be a very detailed demonstration, Miss Fisher," Jack promised, starting to gently, teasingly spreading soap over her breasts, while nibbling on her neck.

"I'm looking forward to it," Phryne whispered, her breaths picking up, as he intensified his attentions.

Inspector Robinson had always been a man of his word and so it was no surprise that he followed through on his promise.