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Phryne and Simon
The bright red Hispano-Suiza J12 whipped along a narrow coastal road on the French Riviera, the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher at the wheel. On the one hand, the car was only on loan to her from a friend while she was in the South of France. On the other hand, the J12 had twice the horsepower of the model she'd left behind in Melbourne, and Phryne was relishing the feeling of power as she coasted along with the top down, enjoying the endless blue arch of sky.
Phryne glanced in the rear view mirror and saw a large Hirondel roadster bearing down on her tail. The driver appeared to be a young man with dark hair slicked back like patent leather, and even in the distance of the mirror, he had an air of extreme self-assurance.
He tootled.
It was just a little wisp of a sound, accompanied by a wave of the hand to indicate that he would pass.
"My foot he will!" Phryne muttered, suiting action to word as she pressed down on the Hispano-Suiza's accelerator pedal and steered in a tight but graceful move around a curve in the road. She glanced ahead, seeing nothing coming in their direction.
The objectionable ass tootled and waved again, his acceleration matching hers.
Phryne waved back with one hand, while she shifted up a gear with the other.
The Hirondel roared, jumping up on her left side.
Phryne glanced over and raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at the fellow racing her. He'd have to drop back if they were going to make the next tight curve, and as soon as they were on the straight she'd jump up into third gear and really let the car have her head on the long straight stretch she knew they were approaching.
The driver of the Hirondel grinned and Phryne had to admit he was spectacularly pretty to look upon when he didn't look smug. The Hirondel nosed slightly ahead of her, but she had the inside lane. As the road clung to the next protrusion of the land over the edge of the ocean she barely dropped her speed and took the curve as fast and sharp as she could.
As she'd guessed, the driver of the Hirondel had the sense to drop behind her, and she pushed the Hispano-Suiza into one last burst of acceleration to get some distance between them coming into the straight.
She kept the lead as they roared down the straight. There was a hill ahead and Phryne shifted down, feeling the engine growl in response. She felt a wild spring of joy inside her - the sparkling blue of the sky above, the warm sun beating down on her face, the rush of wind and feel of speed and power, the ebb and flow of the waves like a beating line of bass through the jazz of the day.
Phryne knew the race couldn't go on forever; they weren't far outside the nearest little resort town and it wouldn't do to disturb the sleepy holiday-makers. All to the good, though, because as much as she liked the race itself, she was going to adore winning.
Reaching the top of the hill, Phryne looked down the road ahead and laughed. A char-a-banc packed with tourists was struggling up the hill in the other direction, giving Mister Hirondel no opportunity to pass her.
She soared down the hill, waving gaily at the astonished tourists, leaving her racing competitor well behind her in the rear view mirror.
Phryne, Pat and Simon
"Pat old girl, you'll never guess-"
Simon stopped short in his tracks.
Sitting next to Pat in the outdoor bar of their little hotel was the woman he'd just lost a race to. She and Pat together made a stunning picture. Where Pat was blonde sunshine in her cool, deep blue dress, the racing driver was the picture of moonlight, dark hair cut in a dutch doll bob, her face pale and angular with bright, dancing eyes. A deep red, wide-legged playsuit in a fine cotton linen embroidered all over with butterflies gave her an air of glamour that was almost too striking for day time.
"Yes, dear?" Patricia Holm said, with a twinkle in her eye, "guess what? Oh, where are my manners? Phryne, may I introduce Simon? Simon, this is my dear friend the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher."
"Oh, do let's not use titles," Phryne laughed lightly, "unless of course I should call you the infamous Saint."
Simon gave a little bow, grinning widely.
"May I join you ladies?" he asked.
Pat waved a gracious hand at the third chair at the table, just as a waiter arrived with a tray carrying three ice-cold glasses of campari and soda.
They paused and drank reverently of the refreshing ambrosia before the conversation carried on.
"Pat, you should have seen Miss Fisher," said Simon,
"Phryne, please," Phryne said,
"Pat, you should have seen Phryne driving," Simon continued, "I've never seen a woman handle a car like that, other than you, of course."
"You don't get out enough," Phryne said archly, "I could introduce you to some women who make me look like a Sunday driver."
"Oh don't mind Simon," Pat said, "he comes back from every little trip telling me about the latest girl he met who was the 'embodiment of the spirit of adventure' and 'the most amazing woman he ever met' besides me."
"It's true," Simon said, "I do meet the most splendid girls. But of course none of them measure up to you, darling."
Phryne laughed, delighted to see her old friend Patricia being given the sheer adoration she deserved.
"But truly, you should have seen her drive," Simon said, "handled that big beast of a Hispano-Suiza like it was a purring kitten."
"I have seen her drive," Pat said, with a dreamy look in her eyes, "As a matter of fact, I've navigated for her."
"And you never told me you knew the most glorious automobilist in the land?"
"My lad, you never asked. Besides, you should see her fly."
Phryne and Pat
Of course Phryne wasn't staying in the same little hotel as Simon and Pat, as charming as it was. No, she had the use of a villa on a hill outside the town. Spacious, airy, and most importantly, equipped with the most discreet staff.
Phryne and Pat lay twined together in the deep moss green silk sheets of the master bed, a wide window open to let in the sweet herbal, flowery smell that filled the air in the hills.
The two women dipped in and out of soft kisses, lazy and sated from more energetic activities.
"It's been too long," Phryne said pensively, "I'm so glad that I ran into you. Look at you now, all settled down."
Pat laughed and nipped lightly at Phryne's collarbone, her lips tracing after her teeth.
"Well, if you call this settled, I suppose," she said, "he's a dear boy, and he does always come back to me."
"As long as you're not just waiting for him," Phryne said, caressing the long line of Pat's thigh.
"As far as he's concerned, I might as well be," Pat said, "He's never going to spend any time wondering what other people are doing when they're not in his line of sight. But darling Phryne, you can't imagine I'd put myself on the shelf for that."
Phryne chuckled, "No, I can't see it, you were never very good at staying out of trouble."
"And there is so much lovely and remunerative trouble to be had!" Pat said, "which, as you've run off and become a detective, I perhaps oughtn't to be telling you about."
Phryne pinched Pat's bottom, "As if I'd ever dob you in," she said, sounding scandalized, "besides, I'm not as respectable as all that!"
"Oh, no, Phryne dear," Pat agreed, "you could never be respectable."