Valves & Vixens

by Nicole Gestalt

  ***

  Kensington, 1919

  After the death of his father, Roger’s mother had handed over the London town-house and all its contents to her son, removing herself to a far smaller dwelling on the Sussex coast. Roger had considered sending her a telegraph to enquire as to the whereabouts of his grandfather’s trunk, but ultimately decided against it. His mother would soon have wormed the entire story out of him, and would undoubtedly oppose any such investigation.

  He discovered the papers on the third day of searching, secreted in the darkest corner of the wine cellar. Giving orders that he was not to be disturbed once he had been supplied with a bottle of port, Roger shut himself in his study and began to make his way through the quantity of letters, diagrams and notes the trunk contained. At first, being frankly ignorant with regard to scientific research methods, he found much of the material incomprehensible and cast it aside. However, he was determined to persist, having come by some information, from the sister of a friend, that Lady Isidore’s hostility might not be entirely implacable. It seemed that another acquaintance had been chaffing the lady on the subject of her unkindness to Roger, which had brought forth a statement to the effect that he was, in all other respects, a handsome young man of the type she would have otherwise allowed into her circle of friends. “You would make the boy your slave, would you?” another of the group had apparently remarked. Isidore’s response, repeated gleefully by the girl passing on the story, had been that she would delight in doing so as she suspected he would make a courtier of the most ardently submissive kind.

  ***

  Southwark, 1885

  Dr Williams found it difficult to believe his ears. Perhaps he should have been more concerned about the moral character of the girl when she had tried to interest him in discussing the hysterical paroxysm - a decent young woman would surely not have taken such a close interest in the feminine ailment - but he had been preoccupied with the run of failures they had been experiencing and told himself it was none of his concern. And now Miss O’Brien was confessing that not only had she illicitly obtained a copy of the laboratory key, but that she had undertaken an experiment of her own volition to discover the truth - or otherwise - of this outlandish theory she had developed.

  He was fully aware that he ought to be angry with her. Many of his peers would have seen such behaviour as grounds for dispensing with her services and sending her away in disgrace, even if they did not take it upon themselves to place her in the hands of the appropriate authorities.

  And yet the two crystals attached to the Reichian cabinet still retained their glow. None of the previous subjects had ever been able to produce more than a short-lived flicker in the large, irregular spheres. If what Eileen O’Brien had told him was true, then it was the most remarkable scientific breakthrough imaginable, even in this age of wonders. As she stood there before him, trembling a little, her eyes downcast and her soft, red lips quivering with some complex emotion, Dr Williams was also aware of a well-remembered emotion of his own: desire.

  “I should punish you for this,” he said, “I could have you prosecuted, even sent to an asylum, for moral enfeeblement.”

  She raised her head and the terror on her face both appalled him and aroused him.

  “No,” he said, then. “Other men might, but not I. My personal inclination would be to put you over my knee and spank your impudent bottom, young lady.” The instant the words left his lips, he regretted them, but only until Eileen took a step towards him.

  “I deserve it, Doctor,” she whispered. “But I - if you’re going to do that, shall we try doing it in the cabinet?”

  Now both of them were shocked into silence. Dr Williams would tell himself later that, if not for his fear that the great work had been rendered invalid, and his natural agitation of mind at the polarized possibilities of failure, and of success beyond all imagining, he would never have behaved in such an ungentlemanly fashion, but as it was, he merely said, “Very well. Activate the accumulator.”

  While she hurriedly obeyed, the doctor seated himself on the bench, aware that his manhood was responding to the situation in a way it had not done for some years. He was reminded, vividly but briefly, of the parties he and Mountcastle had secretly attended in their youth, and silently told himself that he hadn’t forgotten, he had merely attempted to do so.

  Eileen, he expected, was considerably less experienced than he, but she seemed to find it quite easy and natural to arrange herself in the required position. Rather than struggle with adjusting her skirt and petticoat, Dr Williams applied the flat of his hand to her clothed posterior several times, eliciting little squeals followed by deeper moans as he continued to spank her. It was difficult to be sure, but he thought he could detect a change in the pitch of the cabinet machinery’s steady hum. He paused his chastisement to listen, and it occurred to him that this experiment had now gone so far that it would be foolish to call a halt.

  “Eileen, take off your skirt and your petticoat,” he ordered her, lifting his hands so that she could stand upright in order to complete the task. She obeyed him with alacrity, and he took advantage of this pause in the proceedings to unfasten his striped trousers. He had initially intended to render her punishment more effective by removing some of the protection her clothing provided. However, the sight of her, clad in nothing but blouse, corset and drawers, almost took his breath away. When he noticed a slight darkening and dampening, indicative of a desire equalling his own, at the gusset of the drawers, he groaned aloud.

  “Take them off, too,” he said hoarsely and, again, Eileen obeyed. He stood, then, and approached her, placing his hands on her shoulders. The first kiss was a little clumsy as the girl was, presumably, inexperienced, but her mouth opened swiftly under his as he crushed her against his body. Her hair had begun to come down; he plunged his hands into it, loosening it further, delighted when her arms stole round him in a fervent embrace. His long-suppressed need was so urgent now that he was in no mood to be gentle; he laid her down on the bench, only just managing to take the time to support her head with his free arm as he guided himself between her parted thighs and thrust inside her.

  She bucked beneath him, but her body was pressing against his and matching his rhythm, drawing him deeper, and her fervent kisses made it even clearer that she welcomed him. In only a very small space of time, they were both gasping and shuddering together, clinging to one another as they achieved an almost simultaneous release, subsiding in each other’s arms with gratified moans of pleasure.

  “The crystals!” Eileen said, some minutes later. “Dr Williams, the crystals! Look!

  He sat up, still a trifle bemused, thinking she meant him to scurry round to the rear of the Reichian cabinet and examine the things at once. Yet, as he turned his head, he saw that it was unnecessary to do so. The crystals were glowing so powerfully that they shone through the mesh-wrapped glass.

  ***

  Kensington, 1919

  It was just a small, worn, leather-backed notebook, but Roger wouldn’t let it out of his sight. He went so far as to place it under his pillow before he slept, so important did he feel it would become. Not only did it contain a detailed description of his grandfather’s first successful experiment, but tucked between the pages was a letter from Eileen O’Brien, explaining everything.

  At the earliest possible opportunity, he would take the book and the letter and lay them at Lady Isidore’s feet. Along with himself.

  On Gossamer Wings

  By Blair Erotica

  Sheila sighed as she watched the dock fade into the distance. She thought she could still see her mother waving that bright red scarf she always wore. She would be happy not to see it for a time. Her mother’s insistence that she marry Charles had grown tiresome; a little time away from her concerned nagging would be a pleasant respite.

  Since he had proposed Charles had waited in
quiet impatience for her decision as well. He wanted things settled, as he put it. She knew he assumed she would agree, and on the face of it, she had no reason not to. He was good looking, kind, well established in the City, owned a fine home and had all the qualities that said he would make a fine husband, in the sense that people used that term. He would be steadfast, a good provider, honest and relatively cheerful.

  What bothered her was his lack of a sense of the joy of life and desire for adventure. So much so that when he suggested taking this trip - the maiden voyage of a ship built with new technology - it had seemed so out of character that she began to think she might have misjudged him. If there was a more dynamic side to him, she wanted to see it.

  “A cruise will give you the time to decide without distractions,” he had said. Now she stood with her arm tucked securely in his, watching excitedly as the elegant Gossamer Wings quickly put distance between them and the Portsmouth docks.

  Gossamer Wings was a departure from the conventional steamships plying the waters between England and the Caribbean; powered by large electric motors driven by battery banks, she had the rigging of a sailboat, but it was festooned with shiny and frail-looking silver sails that were actually solar panels that recharged the batteries. The sails gave the ship her romantic name and enabled her to make the entire passage to Barbados without stopping. Three conventional headsails at the bow stabilised the ship in side seas, or so it said in the brochure Charles had given her before they left.

  “Farewell for now, Blighty,” she said happily.

  “That’s Hindi, you know,” Charles said.

  “What is?”

  “The word blighty. It comes from a Hindi word meaning a foreign country.”

  “So now I know,” she said. It was typical of him to explain such things and she hoped her mild rebuke would stop him.

  “I hope this ship is a sound as they claim,” he said.

  She hid her smile. “Having doubts, Charles?”

  “Concerns,” he said. “I know that you are willing to trust yourself to the fates, but I rather feel that a good design, solid engineering are what matter.”

  “I suspect that what matters depends on the goal.”

  “What goal could one have but to arrive safely?” he asked.

  She smiled at him. “Why, to have and adventure; to experience something entirely new and different.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “In my experience, new and different are often euphemisms for unreliable and uncomfortable.”

  She wondered at his grumpiness. Even the uncomfortable could be rewarding. “Why on earth did you choose this ship if being on it worries you?” she asked.

  He reached over to squeeze her hand. “To please you,” he said. “I know you are fascinated with the new. When I read about this ship I thought it would convince you to make the trip with me.” He looked around. “It seems well made and I fancy safer than an airship, for instance.”

  The thought of passage on an airship appealed to her. Seeing her hope of finding an adventurous streak in him evaporate, Sheila sighed. This inability to actually enjoy the world, to get out of the proven groove, was exactly why she hesitated. He put great stock in doing the appropriate thing. Perhaps that was what he honestly enjoyed. She worried that his rush to marry was to get the courtship over with and settle in to a staid existence.

  “Well, let’s try and enjoy ourselves on this less than sensible craft.”

  For all his allure, his unwillingness to let go, to throw himself into anything passionately, worried her. Sheila knew that a husband who wasn’t a lover would never satisfy her and entering into such a marriage was doomed. She intended to find out if Charles had passion in him. Soon.

  He had booked them separate staterooms and that was fine. With none of their friends or family on board, she assumed they could visit each other’s room when they wished and she would learn what she needed to.

  Standing at the railing, thinking of the long days at sea that lay ahead of them, she wanted to find out if she could excite and please him and he her. And at that moment, the idea of getting naked with him just out of her mother’s sight, as it were, thrilled her.

  “Let’s go to my room,” she whispered.

  “What?” he asked.

  “If we are to be married, I want to know you as a lover,” she told him.

  “That is unseemly.”

  “That may be, but I want you to make love to me. I want to explore your body and feel your hands on mine. I want to know how it feels when you take me. And now we have the time and opportunity. Right now.”

  Her pronouncement seemed to startle him. “It is the middle of the morning,” he said.

  “Randiness knows no clock,” she said, pressing her body against him.

  He gave her a curious look but when she turned and walked to the door of her stateroom, he followed. The cabins were small but well-appointed and perfectly adequate. A small dresser, a nice bed and en-suite bathroom provided everything Sheila was interested. Inside the room she undid the top of her dress, opening it and showing him her bared breasts. The look he gave her smacked more of being uncomfortable than aroused. She moved close and rubbed her breasts against his chest, pressing her crotch up to his. When he still hesitated, she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, then ran her hands over his chest, loving the ripple of muscle, the texture of his skin.

  Finally he nuzzled her neck, his breath hot and moist, sending a tingle of excitement through her. His hands remained by his sides and thinking him shy, she continued to lead the way, tugging his shirt from his pants, then undoing the front of his pants and freeing his cock. She grasped it, enjoying the feel of it swelling in her hand. A sense of relief came over her - at least she aroused him even if he stood still as a mannequin as she played with him.

  She knelt and took his shaft in her mouth. She had never tasted a prick but she wanted to ignite some passion in him and her married girlfriends claimed that this was fool proof. He tasted salty and responded to the touch of her lips and tongue, the suction of her mouth on him.

  He took her head in his hands and gently raised her up. “On the bed,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse with lust.

  Finally, she thought as she stepped back to the bed, stretching out on it and watching him follow. He hiked her dress up to her waist and then pulled down her under things. She shivered in pleasure as he bared her body, her crotch to his touch. She spread her legs open, hoping he would bend down and taste her or use his fingers to excite her, but instead he moved between her legs and lifted them. He brought his cock between her folds and fell forward, entering her with a grunt. He filled her nicely and he placed his hands in the bed either side of her before beginning to move his hips, grinding his shaft into her.

  She looked up at his face, touching it and saw that he kept his eyes closed as he fucked her. The feel of him inside was wonderful. Her juices coated his shaft and he began moving with greater fever, bouncing her on her bed. But then, far too soon, he cried out and she felt the pulse of his cock as he shot his seed in her. He sighed and collapsed on her, his cock shrinking. She looked up at the panelled ceiling trying to think, trying to re-enter the world of words.

  “I need to come,” she told him. “Please, Charles.”

  “What do you expect from me?” he asked. The impatience she heard in his voice surprised her.

  “Use your mouth, or even your fingers on me,” she said.

  He rolled over and looked at her. “I’m going to my cabin,” he said. “The stewards will have seen us come in together. It wouldn’t do to have gossip circulating about us before the trip has even started.”

  “The stewards?” she asked, struck with the sudden realisation that even here the fear of gossip controlled him. Was he going to worry about the opinion of every passing stranger? “You care more about what the s
tewards think than what I need?”

  “It is the middle of the morning,” he said. “You can’t expect me to desire you at all times of the day and night. Of course that was enjoyable, but respectable people don’t loll about in their cabins on a fine day.”

  He stood up and arranged his clothing, restoring his prick to its rightful place in his pants and buttoning up. “I’ll come by to escort you to lunch,” he said.

  Although she’d been watching the closing of her door behind him still shocked her.

  She lay there for a time, feeling rejected and thinking. Then she touched herself. When her fingers found his cum there, it was almost a surprise, something already forgotten. Although it was possible she’d done something to upset Charles the incident made her wonder if he even really enjoyed sex beyond the pleasure of his own ejaculation? She wondered if he that thought women didn’t or shouldn’t have sexual needs besides getting pregnant. She knew she couldn’t stand the thought of having a husband who had no desire at all to please her sexually.

  Yet she hesitated to end it. As her mother reminded her often, she was approaching the age when suitors would become scarce; she might not find a better man. Still, trying to imagine a life with Charles evoked a dreary vision of drifting through a good, upright and passionless existence.

  She cried for a time, thinking that the long and potentially wonderful cruise had been ruined on the first morning. When she finished crying she chided herself. Then she made excuses for him. Perhaps Charles was nervous. Perhaps she was rushing him. She owed it to both of them to let things play out.

  ***

  That first evening at sea they met Captain Stanley, master of the Gossamer Wings. Sheila liked the look of him, guessing him to be around forty. He was stocky and had the look of a man who worked to keep his physique. Although he presented the dignified air of an aristocrat, the sailor in him bubbled underneath. He told her that he had worked his way up through the ranks to his current station. That explained him, she thought. Underneath the calm and dignified manner she sensed something wilder. When he looked at her, when he shook her hand, his touch and the fire in his eye gave her a little animal thrill. She knew he caught her surprise and enjoyed it, for a small, almost imperceptible smile curled the edge of his mouth.