Steampunk Desires: An Erotic Romance (The Complete Collection) (17 page)

She handed Edwin the power collection apparatus and removed her lab coat. She wore nothing beneath it, save her slacks. Her breasts were not large, nor were her areolae. Edwin watched her with interest. He had never imagined her in this capacity; it had been a completely foreign idea to him, yet now that the opportunity was upon him, he desired it. He took her lab coat and hung it loosely from a railing surrounding the jar. Before she could remove her pants, he returned to her and held her, her head fitting easily into his full-sized hands. He rubbed the back of her head gently with his fingertips, and she closed her eyes, sighing in pleasure and relaxation. He brought her closer to him. It was awkward on account of the differences in their size, but he rested her head against his thigh and continued to stroke the back of her head.

She sighed again as he knelt, then sat beside her, his fingers trailing down her chest, grazing over her nipples. She felt them begin to harden and smiled. Edwin was a good choice. She sat next to him and reached up to caress his chin with her hands, slowly pulling him toward her. Their lips met, and she gasped. It was everything she’d hoped it would be. His lips were soft and gentle, yet firm and commanding. He lay her down on the metal deck. It was cool and hard, but not uncomfortable. The two continued their kiss, and he pulled her closer to him. His arms were strong and comforting.

Edwin was feeling unsure of himself. Harriet was so tiny, and he was afraid he would hurt her. Her body responded as he thought it would, but still the concern was there. She seemed to sense his hesitation and stroked his face, smiling warmly, happily, and he felt reassured. She began to unbutton his shirt, and he rolled onto his back. She straddled him and continued loosening the buttons. At last his chest was visible, his pectorals well defined, his ribs peeking out below a thin layer of fat, his abdomen defined and slightly furry. With interest, she ran her hand through the fur on his belly and chest, and he sucked in his breath; it was a sensuous touch for him. Harriet smiled, beginning to see why people enjoyed sex together. Her hands trailed to the buttons of his slacks, but he reached up and stopped her, pulling her forward to lie on his chest.

“You first,” he said teasingly into her ear. She grinned and sat up, her fingers on the front her waistband.

“Do you want to see these removed?” she asked, echoing his teasing tone.

“I don’t want to see them at all,” he retorted, grinning.

She bit her lip seductively and unfastened the top button of her pants. Edwin sat up, resting back on his forearms, watching her as she peeled back the fabric and undid another button. Her breathing intensified; the idea of doing this was arousing her. She came to another button, and in her excitement, she fumbled a bit, a hint of frustration showing in her shoulders. Edwin sat up, placing one hand in the small of her back to support her while rubbing his other hand over the opened fabric. Even this far from her sex, the temperature was already rising. He let one of his fingers stray beneath the still-fastened fabric, and she took a sharp breath in anticipation, relaxing again when his finger retreated. She gave him a mischievous look and undid the next button. Two buttons remained. Beneath her, she could feel Edwin’s lap getting hard and beginning to strain under his slacks.

“Still want me to go first?” she teased, reaching beneath her to squeeze the hardening lump. Edwin winced, but nodded. For somebody who’d never had sex before, she sure was good at taking her time, he thought, not realizing that she had spent countless hours in the observation room, watching numerous couples with a scientist’s eye, some more experienced than others, learning what worked and what didn’t. She might not have had much experience, but she had plenty of observational data. She undid the next button.

The anticipation was killing Edwin. What had started as a desire to please someone he thought highly of had now developed into a pressing need to fornicate with someone that aroused him. He moaned in anticipation, and Harriet gave a surprised-but-pleased look. Her hours of observation were paying off. At last she undid the fifth button, and he helped her to slide out of her slacks. Her white lace panties were dark underneath with moisture; apparently he wasn’t the only one enjoying her striptease. But now it was his turn, and he pressed his palm up against the wet spot, making his hand vibrate slightly — enough to stimulate her, but nowhere near enough to bring her to orgasm. She let out a little moan, but shook her head.

“Oh, no,” she said, “Your pants first.” She crossed her arms in mock petulance and gave him a smug look.

“I can’t take them off,” he said solemnly.

She frowned. That hadn’t ever happened in her observations. “Why not?” she asked, on the verge of upset.

He grinned. “Oy, you’re sitting on ‘em.”

She threw her head back and rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Agh!” She’d show him ‘couldn’t take them off!’ With nimble fingers used to performing very delicate work, she had his pants unbuttoned before he could react. He sat there gaping. She gave him an expectant look. “Well?”

He grinned ruefully. Remind him not to smart off to her again! She stood straddling him, and he wriggled out of his pants and kicked them aside. She sat back down on him, lower this time so that she could tease him through his underwear, rubbing the lump there and snickering as it struggled to get free. “I think he wants out,” she said mischievously.

He raised his eyebrow and gave her crotch a significant look. “So does she,” he said knowingly, teasing his fingers over the lace.

Harriet huffed. “Truce?”

Edwin grinned and nodded. The two took off their underwear together and tossed them aside. Both grew natural tufts beneath their underwear: hers was dark blonde, and his was silver. Before things went any further, Harriet quickly inserted the power collection apparatus. She didn’t want to miss this opportunity. She gasped as it went in. It was a pleasant feeling, but always a little sudden. Admittedly, it wasn’t high on her list of priorities to make it a more gentle experience.

Heat radiated from both of their groins as she sat on his lap, and their sexes pressed together. Edwin’s cock ached to be inside the warm, inviting entrance that called to him, but he resisted, lifting her up and leaning down to caress her sex instead with his lips. She squirmed. It was something she’d never felt before, but she desperately wanted him inside. She tugged gently on his chin, and when he looked up, she glanced significantly at his crotch. He took the hint. He lay back, his cock thrusting into the air in desperate need, and she backed slowly onto it, her eyes half-closed as she felt him part her lips. While her hymen had been broken years before by her prototypes, this was the first she’d ever felt a man inside of her. It was glorious. Her sensitive sex could feel the ridges of his cock-head, the vein on the back of his shaft, even the little capillaries as they bulged on all sides of his dick, filling it with blood and making it throb in anticipation. She could feel their juices intermingling, could feel him sliding easily into her. She shuddered. Maybe biology wasn’t so bad, after all.

His cock could not detect the fine differences that her vagina could, but the heat that emanated from her welcomed him inside; her wetness and his pre-ejaculate mixed and eased his entry, and the slight contraction in her body when she shuddered made him gasp in pleasure. He stroked in and out a few times, aiming for the front side of her sex. She let out a moaning sigh; her observations had never prepared her for the sensations she’d feel. The heat in her sex grew, spreading like warm oil across a flat surface, filling her with both pleasure and with anticipation for something she had only ever watched in others but not experienced herself. He continued to thrust up into her, slowly building her anticipation to the point of the hysteria the doctors spoke of, and just as she was teetering on the edge of climax, he reached in with his fingers and stroked her aching clitoris.

Something exploded inside her head, and she cried out in ecstasy. Her sex clenched repeatedly, the added stimulation sending him over the edge, too, and he grunted in pleasure as his testes drained themselves for the first time in many days, their contents mixing with her orgasmic fluids inside the brass sock. Spent, she collapsed on him, and the two lay resting quietly on the deck beneath the jar of energy, both thoroughly satisfied.

“Oh, Ed,” Harriet said blissfully, her head resting on his chest, “that was everything I’d hoped it would be.” She turned to him, eyes alive with happiness. His face, which had only seconds ago registered the same bliss as hers, was now clouded and dark. “What is it?” she asked, concerned.

“Don’t call me ‘Ed,’” he said unhappily.

She frowned, then said softly, “I’m sorry, Edwin. It just slipped out.”

He nodded slightly, his jaw tensing in thought, but he said nothing.

“Why
do
you hate being called ‘Ed’ so much, Edwin?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Edwin sighed, and then replied slowly. “My brother’s name is Ed. He’s a terrible sod.” He huffed, something Harriet had never seen him do, and his face slowly tensed itself into a scowl. “Overbearing to everyone around him, self-centered to the nines, callous to his wife and children.” Edwin’s speech grew increasingly animated as the tension spread to his shoulders. “A drunkard, a lout, dishonest in his transactions but the first to call someone else out for it.” Edwin took a breath, then continued, calmer. “Ed is a terrible excuse for a human being, and being called that is like the worst kind of insult.”

Harriet nodded slowly. “You do realize that nobody in the crew knows that, that they all think the world of you, and that ‘Ed’ is a familiar way to address you, don’t you, dear?” Edwin raised his eyebrows slightly. “I am sorry you share a surname with such a rotten individual, but you are not him, and he is not you. Nobody thinks you’re a lout, Edwin,” Harriet finished, brushing her fingers over his temples.

Edwin thought about it. “I suppose you’re right, Harriet,” he said at length, stroking her hair absent-mindedly with his fingertips. Maybe ‘Ed’ wasn’t such a bad name. Maybe he could get used to it. He rolled the idea over in his mind.

She roused herself gently. “Where are you going?” Edwin asked, hoping she wasn’t leaving.

“To change the room into something more comfortable,” she replied, a faint grin on her lips. She turned out the lights to the engine room, and then went to the collection capacitor. As she inserted her PCA into a special port on the side of the chamber and lay down next to Edwin, the energy they had made fired off its own little spark, joining the sparks of the others lovemaking on the deck above. Edwin held her close, and she sighed contentedly. Her other challenges could afford to wait until another day. Right now was perfect as it was.

As the
HMS Rapturion
drifted silently through the night sky, the two snuggled together beneath the collection capacitor and drifted off to sleep, bathed in its soft, flickering glow.

*****

~Volume Five
~

The passengers aboard the
HMS Rapturion
were all feeling rested and happy, yet for many of them, there was a sense of wistfulness: the luxury airship had been gone just shy of two weeks, and its round-trip voyage was a mere day from conclusion, which meant that the holiday was nearly over, and the day-to-day grind of real life was about to recommence. Certainly the third-class passengers would miss the finery of their accommodations that, although not as nice as the second– for first-class accommodations, were nicer than most could probably afford at home: the food was fresh, delicious, and readily available, delivered by waiters who provided service nonpareil by any restaurant, hotel, or cruise line anywhere, save the service provided to the first– and second-class passengers. The entertainment in the form of occasional performances by vocal quartets or four-piece chamber orchestras on loan from the decks above provided sweet music in a variety of genres, from sacred music by Handel and others to popular secular works of the day, including works by Mozart and Rossini, Sousa from across the pond, and Gilbert and Sullivan closer to home.

But let’s not forget the views provided by the airship, the breathtaking reason for the cruise: the effortless feeling of floating hundreds of feet above the ground, the beaten pathways of roads and their travelers snaking their way across the countryside before disappearing on the horizon, the glimmer of the sea shining like a field of diamonds below the spectators, the aurora borealis when it came into view on cruises to the north. Hills and mountains promenaded alongside rivers and streams, dams and bridges, tall buildings and desolate deserts. Miracles of human engineering and examples of the Creator’s indefatigable sense of creativity presented themselves side-by-side for anyone willing to but cast a glance out one of the enormous windows on the port and starboard sides of the ship, or for a real treat, the floor-to-ceiling dome of glass that made up the bow of the ship and provided an unobstructed view above and below.

Nora had been saving for the cruise for almost a year, and finally the time had come. She’d ascended the mahogany gangplank and had her breath taken away by the finery. And when the captain gave warning that the ship was about to lift off, she’d braced herself, yet no jarring ever occurred. It was several minutes later when she looked out the porthole and realized she was already high above the ground. The land snaked its way below her, reflecting green and white and brown in the pre-noon sunlight. That was days ago. She had thoroughly enjoyed her stay, enjoying the food and the live music, but most of all, the view. When she had first seen the world through the ship’s great glass window, it had been with awe. Now she viewed it wistfully, knowing that the privilege of seeing it was fleeting.

With all of the finery and the effortless way to experience so much of the world at once, it is no wonder that the passengers regarded the end of the voyage with a hint of sadness. Little did they know how much energy went into making their voyage seem effortless. Little did they know how a single miscalculation or unforeseen event could result in the ship’s inability to reach home at all.

The captain liked for the passengers not to know how precarious their situation was; after all, they were here to relax, to enjoy themselves, and it was his job, and the job of his crew, to facilitate that. In thirty years of being a captain and forty years of sailing — both conventional sea-going vessels and later the newfangled airships — he had always been able to do just that. His staff was more than qualified. The ship was in excellent working order. Backup systems existed to keep everything running in case something failed unexpectedly. And so it was with a sense of confidence and pride that he cast his eyes over the scenery before him from his position at the bridge, which jutted out into a large open space at the forward part of the ship. From here, the large glass window provided him the best view of all.

But trouble was brewing on the propulsion deck. No, the crew was not about to mutiny. Far from it, the crewmen loved their jobs. Who wouldn’t love a job that demanded promiscuity and mutually satisfying sexual encounters as the job requirements? No, the trouble was biological.

Edwin sat in his quarters at his oaken roll-top desk, frowning intently over some stacks of papers he’d received from Engineering. The numbers didn’t make sense: while the bipolar and male energy numbers were both up considerably, the female energy numbers had suffered tremendous losses in the last week. In fact, the numbers were almost zero. There must be some mistake. He leapt up and quickly made his way to the floor above, seeking out Harriet, the ship’s engineer and the mastermind behind the whole sexual energy propulsion concept.

“Harriet!” he called on reaching the floor. Harriet’s lab consisted of a huge open space littered with small “pods” of chalkboards that enclosed her individual experiments. At the back of the lab were specialized rooms for machining, storage, and observation. Unfortunately, Harriet was not even three feet tall, and she could be anywhere on the entire deck.

“Giles!” Edwin called. While he’d rather talk to Harriet personally, her assistant Giles, whose mien was chillier than an Antarctic voyage Edwin had sailed in his youth, was the most likely to know where she was.

Giles appeared suddenly, dressed as always in a black tuxedo, his thin lips and high eyebrows giving him an eternal look of derision that matched his demeanor perfectly. “Yes, what is it?” he asked peremptorily.

“Oy, where’s Harriet?” Edwin asked urgently. “I think there may ‘ave been a miscalculation on last week’s numbers, but either way, she oughtta know.”

Giles’s face registered no reaction. “Dr. Beechworth is extremely busy,” he said, his go-to answer for everything, “and she gave me orders that she is not to be disturbed.”

Edwin snorted, annoyed. He knew personally that he and Harriet had a better relationship than that, and although Edwin was generally good-natured, this obtuse, self-aggrandizing servant of hers was getting in the way.

“Giles,” he said, carefully controlling his tone, “how many times have I come up here when there wasn’t something important to discuss?”

“Twice,” Giles replied promptly. Did he memorize stuff like this?

Undaunted by Giles’s quick response, Edwin persisted, “Righto. And how many times has Harriet been ungrateful for my interruption?”

“Once,” Giles replied, just as quickly.

“So,” Edwin concluded, “don’t you think there’s a good chance that if I’m up here, she might like to know what I’ve got to say?”

Giles shrugged, unmoved. “Orders are orders, sir, and Dr. Beechworth made no exceptions for you.”

Edwin’s jaw tensed. That was fair. Nevertheless, this was important, and they were wasting time.

“Where is she, Giles?” he asked again.

Giles shrugged again, deciding whatever berating Harriet would have for him would probably be short-lived and ultimately less irritating than this propulsion riffraff bothering him incessantly. “In her office,” he said, and then left.

Could have just said that, Edwin thought irritably, walking briskly toward the reclusive engineer’s office. Upon arriving, he knocked quietly and opened the door. Inside, Harriet was taking tea, her eyes closed blissfully, saucer and teacup in hand. Edwin paused: he knew Harriet only took about thirty minutes a day for herself, and this was that time. He screwed up his face in indecision.

“Ed!” Harriet said, surprised but pleasant as she opened her eyes and turned to face him. “What brings you here?” she asked, placing her teacup and saucer down on the low table in front of her.

Edwin cringed. Harriet liked the nickname “Ed” for him, and he was slowly getting used to it, but it wasn’t something he was used to. He quickly recomposed himself. “I’m sorry to interrupt your tea,” he said apologetically, “but I have some troubling news that might put the ship in jeopardy if it’s accurate.”

Harriet frowned, her body instantly tensing as she folded her hands in her lap and regarded him seriously. “What is it?” she asked tersely.

“The female energy numbers,” Edwin began, “they’re low.”

Harriet gave him a hard look. “Ed, your crew’s lack of performance is not my problem.” She was getting annoyed. Had he really interrupted her tea because he couldn’t get his crew’s libido up?

“But Harriet,” Edwin cried in frustration, “they’ve been contributing! All of them! I looked over the numbers: nobody has slacked off. They all spent ample time contributing last week. Why would their numbers be low?”

Harriet frowned. That
was
unusual. She gestured to the door with her head and rose. Edwin followed her across the hallway to one of the observation rooms, where she had Giles archive old strip charts of previous weeks’ production after he produced the reports for Edwin. The room was filled with bookcases with countless little cubbyholes, each numbered with a brass plate that gave the date of the strip charts contained inside it. She scanned the rows, found the last entry, and pulled out a stack of strip charts, all rolled together into a big scroll of stacked strips of paper. Each piece of paper was a strip chart for the energy output for one of the beds in the three collection rooms. With nimble fingers, she deftly went through hundreds of strips and finally isolated about a third of them. The third she isolated were for the beds in the female collection room.

Harriet and Edwin went to a table in the archival room and spread the papers out one by one. Sure enough, the output on all of them was low, with rare occasional exceptions spread over thirty or so of them. More alarmingly were long periods where there was no output whatsoever, as if some of the beds had only been used once in the entire week. Harriet looked at Edwin suspiciously. “Are you sure that your crew hasn’t been pulling the wool over your eyes, Edwin?” She hoped they were; that was easily fixable.

“Harriet, I’ve watched them with my own eyes,” Edwin said earnestly. “We can go check the logs, if you like.” Harriet nodded. That’s exactly what she’d been thinking. The logs weren’t foolproof: anybody could record her name in the logbook without actually doing any work, but at least then they’d know whom to question.

With the bundle of strip charts, the two quickly made their way downstairs and midway across the propulsion deck, where the female collection room lay empty. Edwin swallowed hard: this certainly didn’t make him look credible. Harriet said nothing but went straight to one of the beds, one that had a long run without activity according to the strip chart. She flipped back the pages: there were many names listed, and Edwin’s mouth opened in dismay. The names of the women recorded were trustworthy folks who had never given him trouble before, and many of them were passionate about what they did. Why would they falsify their records? Besides, it was their actual output that mattered in setting their pay, not whether they were present. Why bother claiming to be at one of the beds—whether actually there or not—without contributing? He shook his head and held his hands out helplessly. Harriet frowned. It didn’t make sense to her, either.

“We’re going to have to interview them,” she said at length. “But first, I want to know if they’re being honest or not.” She looked at the strip chart and found a piece of it that registered nonzero. She looked at the time on the strip chart, and then flipped forward in the logbook. “Eight forty-three, eight forty-three, eight forty– Ah, here it is.” She scanned with her finger and stopped over a name. Edwin looked at it: Scarlett, one of his best. He looked at Harriet, puzzled.

“Let’s go ask her who was in bed when she got here,” Harriet said. “According to the logbook, there was someone else here just before she logged in.” She pointed to another name, Francine. “We’ll find out if Francine was telling the truth.”

Edwin looked hesitant. “That was days ago; why should Scarlett remember?”

“It was this morning, Ed,” Harriet retorted, pointing to the date on the logbook. “The cutoff for energy collection was at nine this morning, which means that Scarlett was among the last to contribute for last week.”

Edwin nodded. He hoped that Francine was telling the truth; the penalty for dishonesty was an instant trip to the brig, followed by criminal charges on return to port. Worse than that, if that many of his crew were lying to him, how would he meet his numbers? The vessel couldn’t operate without the feminine energy!

*****

Life was good.
Nora had just finished lunch at the restaurant: roast beef, boiled potatoes, and fresh bread like she’d never eaten before. It all reminded her of home, but the food was better. The ship had access to food of higher quality than she could find at home, let alone afford. Now she took some tea and cabin biscuits with her and sat in a large, open common area towards the front of the ship. She sat at a table for two next to the polished brass railing that prevented her and the other passengers from plummeting five stories to the bottom of the ship. As she sipped her tea, she marveled at the beauty of the world through the great glass window in front of her, and peering over the railing, she could see the airship’s shadow far below them through the glass below. It must be high noon. To her right and a little in front of her was the bridge, where she could see the captain and the navigation crew running the ship. The captain was a handsome man, tall and thin, with gray hair, a sharp nose, and features that were both experienced and kind. She had nearly run into him when she first boarded, and he had kindly smiled at her and pointed her in the direction of her cabin.