Steampunk Desires: An Erotic Romance (The Complete Collection) (16 page)

Harriet watched the needle intently. It had long-passed thirty percent and was now edging near sixty percent. Whatever the pretty gay boy was doing, it was working. Go on, she urged silently. A sudden twinge in Francis’s balls avalanched, and his orgasm erupted into the brass sock.

The needle struck 110%, and Harriet gasped. While it was not uncommon for two people to exceed one hundred percent, it was unheard-of for one person to do it alone. She found herself turned on by the success of the experiment, and she moaned softly. The needle dropped to zero, but Harriet’s mind had wandered. Oh, yes, she thought. She fancied the PCPA in place, sustaining one hundred percent, somehow figuring out how to make the afterglow last longer. Think of the power the ship could harvest, she thought to herself. She might even hit gigajoules of energy! What if she could design smaller airships that didn’t take such big motors? She could call them ‘sky yachts.’ They’d be perfect for honeymooners! It had a nice ring to it. Sailing into the sky, fueled by the happy couple’s desire for each other. Her thoughts drifted to a partner she’d like on her sky-yacht: white-haired, burly, kind and soft-spoken but able to take charge when necessary. She sighed, and then started.

“Edwin!” she exclaimed in surprise, “What are you doing here?”

Edwin grinned his usual grin, his eyes crinkling in amusement next to his white temples. “Oy! You took two of my top producers, then sent one back, and then called him back again,” he said wryly. “I figured I ought to come up and see if your mind was sound. It’s not like you to be so wishy-washy!”

Her breath caught in her throat: she could still see herself on the sky yacht, but now wrapped in his arms. She quickly dismissed the feeling. “I didn’t know that dick-for-brains didn’t know how to slowly build to orgasm,” she replied, frowning. “So I called pretty-boy back.”

Edwin rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Their names ’re Francis and Alonso,” he said, gently chiding her. That warm, friendly voice, she thought. And the manager of the propulsion deck, too. I’ll bet he could make it a fun experience, she thought, her eyes losing their typical fierceness.

“Harriet?” Edwin asked. “Harriet!”

“Oh, ah, yes. Yes, Edwin,” she said, distracted at first but regaining her decisiveness and nodding as if answering a question he’d asked. Edwin looked at her, puzzled.

“Yes what, Harriet?” he asked slowly, frowning.

“Ah, hmm. Nothing,” Harriet said, her feet fidgeting under the desk. She was having trouble concentrating.

“Oy, are you sure you’re all right?” Edwin asked, concerned. This was very unlike Harriet. She always ran circles around him, yet now she seemed incapable of having a coherent thought.

That voice. That look of genuine concern. Those strong arms, made that way through years of hard work that she knew was always done to the best of his ability. Harriet squeezed her short legs tightly together, her excitement from the test intermingling with the excitement of having him here with his full attention on her.

‘Oh well’, she thought. She knew as well as anyone on the ship what the signs were of desire. She might have never succumbed to it before, but she knew the feelings nevertheless. This had been a great success! Why shouldn’t she celebrate?

“Edwin,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to be seductive. Her eye caught a glimpse of the strip chart, and something nagged her in the back of her mind.

“Yes, Harriet?” Edwin asked, raising his eyebrows in interest.

“I–” she trailed off. Abruptly, she rose from her desk and seized the strip chart. In dismay, she focused on a slight bump in the chart corresponding to about the time that Alonso started stimulating Francis. “In the name of Newton’s firstborn child’s first drool!” she ranted.

“Um…” Edwin had no words. Newton had no children of his own that anybody knew of.

“Here I thought it was all dick-boy’s –”

“Francis’s,” Edwin jumped in.

“– doing that made the 110%, but pretty-boy –”

“Alonso,” Edwin said, exasperated.

“– was touching him at the time!”

“How do you know that?” Edwin asked curiously.

Harriet pointed to the bump on the chart. “It’s the protuberance in the chart, just there,” she said, the wind taken out of her sails.

Edwin looked at the nigh-imperceptible step on the chart. “Was his contribution really that great?” he asked. “I doubt very much that he climaxed; the two of them went straight to the collection room and began making out like jackrabbits.”

Harriet frowned. Maybe he was right; she hadn’t noticed if pretty-boy had become aroused. She sighed; no sense second-guessing it. She’d have to repeat the test. But for now…

“Edwin, let’s fuck,” she said simply.

Edwin blinked several times and opened his mouth to say something, but then stopped, looking at her curiously. At length, he finally found his voice. “Harriet,” he asked slowly, “what’s gotten into you?”

“I’m aroused, Edwin,” she said just as simply as before, “and all the idiots do on this flying manatee is spread their inanity about like some foul disease.” She turned to him, absent-mindedly reaching to put the strip chart down on the reader, but missing and dropping it on the floor instead. She didn’t notice.

“You, on the other hand,” she said, advancing like a lioness on a piece of terrified prey, “You put your best into everything. Your crew mates love you, and you’re highly regarded all over the ship.” She stopped just shy of him, her head even with his crotch. She reached out and petted the space where she thought his penis should be, hiding beneath his slacks. He stared down at her, mouth agape.

Harriet shook her head. “What
is
it with people staring at me with their mouths open today?” she asked with a huff, somewhat rhetorically. She turned her back to him and took a few steps away, crossing her arms over her chest. “I may be an intellectual,” she said firmly, her voice cooling, “and I may be of small stature,” her voice turned earnest, “but I have needs the same as everyone else.” Her shoulders drooped. She’d made her request, and he’d stood there stupidly like all the rest. Maybe she’d misjudged him.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see him squatting behind her, smiling softly, his hazel eyes full of emotion. “I had no idea, Harriet,” he said quietly.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, regaining a bit of her usual demeanor, but he rubbed her shoulder affectionately, shaking his head.

“I don’t,” he replied. “Here just a few days ago, I thought you counted me among the idiots.” He sighed, choosing his words. “The feeling is mutual.” He stopped and corrected himself quickly, “well, not the idiots part, but the respect is mutual.” He continued earnestly, “I have always admired you, Harriet, and you have always made me smile, even when you were furious with me. Your passion for your work, your excitability, your little mannerisms, –”

“My what?” Harriet demanded indignantly, shrugging his hand off her shoulder.

“There’s the excitability,” Edwin said, grinning. Harriet didn’t smile. “Oh, come, now, Harriet,” he replied lightly, “surely you must recognize that darting back and forth, shoving people out the door by pushing on the backs of their legs, stopping mid-sentence to start an entirely new thought, and believing that a lab that makes it impossible to find you is perfect are unusual!”

Harriet scanned the floor side-to-side with her eyes self-consciously. She hadn’t considered that.

“But it’s endearing, Harriet!” Edwin said, returning his hand to her shoulder. “No, most people on here do not interact with you the way I do, and they find it off-putting. But I find it adorable, and the fact that you’re so deeply committed to your work makes you all the more attractive!”

Harriet smiled faintly and twirled one of her curly locks with her index finger. She wasn’t used to getting compliments. “Would you,” she began hesitantly, “would you like to see the engine room?” She knew it was an odd request, but she thought he might like it.

“Why, yes, Harriet,” Edwin said, surprisingly enthusiastic, “I’d like to see the engine room.”

She nodded, taking him by the hand, as if a child was walking her parent across a busy street, and she led him to the stairs. They went down two flights, passing the propulsion deck as they did, and came to a locked door with “Engine Room” stenciled on it. Harriet took a key from the pocket of her slacks; she had always hated dresses — society be damned — and preferred something with pockets. She turned the key in the lock and opened the door. A vast expanse of space stretched out before them, filled with machinery made of gleaming brass and highly polished wood. A deep humming rumbled in their chests as the machinery turned, keeping the airship aloft and moving.

Harriet placed Edwin’s hand on the wall. “Can you feel its pulse?” she asked, her eyes lighting up as he’d never seen them before, with a deep sense of awe and wonder, as if she couldn’t believe she’d designed the ship’s power train herself. Or maybe she just couldn’t believe it worked so flawlessly. Or perhaps it had turned out better than she’d envisioned.

Edwin felt the hum in his hand and nodded. He could indeed feel its pulse, and somehow it excited him, but he didn’t know why.

“Come on,” Harriet said, tugging his hand lightly. They walked the length of the ship, slowly passing enormous motors and turbines that sat half-buried in the deck, the top half still standing ten feet above Edwin’s head, their blades turning too fast to see, but their hum omnipresent on the deck. A giant glass cylinder sat directly in front of them some distance. They came to it, and Harriet pointed. “This is the bipolar energy,” she said. It looked like a giant, empty mason jar, but the top was crowned by a brass fixture somewhat resembling a chandelier inside the cylinder, and a spire jutted above the lid, a huge metal plate that sealed the energy inside. A giant polished brass sphere, five feet in diameter, topped the spire, sitting easily twenty feet in the air. Inside, occasional sparks of energy traveled to or from the chandelier spikes and struck the bottom of the jar or traveled along the side.

“That’s someone contributing,” Harriet said when one of the sparks, like a miniature lightning bolt, shot down into the jar. Edwin watched with fascination. While he’d heard of the engine room, he’d never seen it, and here was evidence that someone in his crew was doing his or her job.

“Harriet,” Edwin asked, “where are the female and male energies?”

Harriet pointed off into the distance at two other giant jars. “They’re right under the collection rooms,” she explained. “The shorter the distance the energy has to travel, the less waste there is.” Edwin nodded. He could see both jars flickering faintly in the distance.

Harriet looked up at the nearest jar, serenity, satisfaction, and a hint of awe coloring her features. Edwin watched her expression, smiling faintly at seeing her showing an emotion other than ire, imperiousness, or impatience. She glanced over at him and timidly took his hand. The two stood, watching the sparks in the jar.

“Edwin,” Harriet said quietly, “let’s do it right here, under the bipolar energy capacitor.”

Edwin nodded slowly. “Do you have a brass sock?” he asked, and she winced.

“Yes, I have a special power collection apparatus right here,” she said. She walked to the other side of the jar and returned carrying it. Edwin frowned. It had no cord.

“How—how do you plug it in?” he asked.

Harriet grinned gleefully. “It’s wireless,” she said triumphantly. “It’s something I’ve been working on. It still has to be brought down here to discharge, but it can hold the energy inside of it until it fills up.”

“Fills up?” Edwin asked.

“Yes,” Harriet said, a bit of impatience in her voice. “It can only hold so much, just like a glass can only hold so much water.”

Edwin nodded, and Harriet, who had long dreamed of being with a man — the right man — could stand the anticipation no more. For over ten years, she’d put her libido second to her work. It was while she was making a vibrator to cure what the doctors called “hysteria” that she discovered the energy of sex, and her every waking moment ever since had been devoted to nothing else. She’d waited long enough.