by Jisa Shotly
Contents
Title page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Thanks for Reading!
Of Airships and Affairs
By Jisa Shotly
Copyright © 2020 by Jisa Shotly
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Jisa Shotly. Of Airships and Affairs. Kindle Edition.
CHAPTER 1
SKYSHIP FRIGGA
North Carolina Skyport
Mid-June 1906
As the morning sun climbed into the eastern sky, Sally and I watched as the Skyship Frigga docked at the new Skyport on the North Carolina mainland. Two gas-filled balloons provided lift on the starboard and port sides of a huge sky-going barque. The ship’s sails added the propulsion and steering the Frigga needed on her journeys up the coast and back. Originating out of Miami, Florida, the airship made stops in Jacksonville, Savanna, Charleston, and then continued to hopscotch up the Atlantic coast to various places on the way to New York City. She was a sight to behold, hovering above the skyport, cargo being offloaded with cranes, luggage and supplies hauled up on barge-like platforms attached to ropes and winches. The ship’s crew were busy climbing all over the deck and sails. A man dressed in white called out orders from the side railing. Even from this distance, his booming voice was clearly audible.
“Sally, don’t you just love a man in uniform?” My smile was definitely appreciative as I watched the men on the ship. I was wilting in the early summer heat, but I wasn’t dead. I was very grateful for the covered waiting area near the passenger loading platforms. Even at half past eight, the sun was quite hot. I wished I could loosen the high collar of my green travel suit, but that wouldn’t be proper. Screw proper, I thought rebelliously, eyeing the men around me in their loose, open-necked, work shirts. Yet, some rules even I had to follow.
“Yes, Ma’am.” Sally’s voice sounded like a victrola that was winding down.
I glanced at my automaton maid and companion. “Don’t worry, Sally. We’ll get you fixed up.”
Sally wasn’t likely to worry, because she didn’t have the capacity. I, on the other hand, was very worried. Her physical reflexes had deteriorated to the point where I was doing my own hair and fighting with corset and buttons by myself, and could not rely on Sally for protection. Thank goodness she was still mobile. She was very heavy, far heavier than a strong man could lift. Cape Hatteras, where we’d stayed for the past six weeks, did not boast a proper repairman for such sophisticated devices. I was taking Sally to New York City, where there was bound to be a decent clockwork technician.
“All aboard!” The swarthy crew member stood by the passenger loading gondola. Passengers showed their tickets and stepped into the craft. A huge crane raised the gondola to the embarkment point.
“Come on, Sally. It’s bound to be cooler on the ship.” I took my place in line, checking to be sure Sally was with me. Her steps were a bit erratic and she was silent.
When we stepped off the gondola, two men in officer’s dress were there to greet us. One was a dark-haired, dark-eyed man with olive skin. The other was a huge Viking of a man, easily 7 feet tall. His collar-length white-blonde hair and handlebar mustache were offset by darkly tanned skin and pale blue eyes. He was very muscular, like a strong man in a circus, but I’d bet he didn’t lift weights. He looked like the sort of man who worked for a living, even if he didn’t have to. This was the man we’d seen and heard in the white uniform. I had trouble tearing my eyes away from him.
For some reason, I became very flustered. I don’t know why. I’d seen muscles before. Yet something about this giant man made me feel shy, vulnerable. For the first time in a long time I was tongue-tied. I was trying to gather my composure enough to greet him when he turned and roared at a deckhand who was obviously in the wrong place at the wrong time. The sheer volume of his voice startled me, and I stepped back into Sally. Luckily, she was still able to catch me before I fell on my rear.
The other, dark-haired man just grinned and held out his hand, waiting patiently for The Viking (as I dubbed him in my mind) to finish yelling. “Signora, welcome aboard the Skyship Frigga.” He said. “I am the Purser, Carlo Assaugio.”
I automatically extended my hand and he kissed the air above it in the continental style. “So nice to meet you, Mr. Assaugio. I’m Isabella Blume, and this is my maid, Sally.” He held my hand longer than was necessary, staring with soulful eyes into mine. Italian Stallion, was the phrase that came to mind. This was a ladies man. I smiled back conspiratorially.
He winked.
The Viking drew my attention once again, but he was frowning fiercely at the crew.
“This is Captain Olaf Thorson, Mrs. Blume. He must make sure we’re underway on time. You’ll meet him tonight at dinner.” The purser nodded toward the stewards waiting by the stairs to the upper and lower decks. “Our staff will help you find your cabin when you’re ready.”
The ship was beautiful, made from solid teakwood, with shiny brass fittings everywhere. I wondered if they had automatons to shine all that metal. Probably not, as automatons were very expensive. Flesh and bone labor was still much cheaper.
The steward led us up to the top deck. Our suite was in the center of the ship down a long hallway. On the door was a brass plaque that read “Swallow Suite.” It made me smile when I immediately thought of my last lover and how often I had swallowed…
After showing us all the amenities, the steward accepted his gratuity and left us to our own devices. It was a pretty basic two room cabin, small, with built in furniture, a few cushioned chairs in the sitting room, a cheerful blue-and-white quilt on the built-in double bed in the bedroom, and pictures of birds on the walls. Would I have occasion to share that bed? For some reason my mind pictured Captain Olaf, and not the irascible Purser, lying there. I wondered if Captain Olaf’s cock was as big as the rest of him? A wry smile twitched on my lips. I definitely wouldn’t mind swallowing him here, in the Swallow Suite.
I washed my face and tidied my hair after removing the green hat and traveling ensemble. Retrieving my long, cool, navy blue linen skirt and a white cotton shirtwaist with a lace, high collar, I changed clothes. Once again, I struggled with the buttons on the back of the shirtwaist, resenting the fact that men’s clothes were so much easier to don without help. Afterwords, I was much more comfortable, cooling my flash of temper. Of course, I would have to change again tonight for dinner, but I felt I couldn’t spend another minute in my sweat-dampened travel clothes.
Sally struggled with the unpacking until I pitched in to help. When my dress was ready for dinner that night, I grabbed a straw hat and left her in the suite while I went exploring.
I stood by the railing as we pulled away from the Skyport dock. We slowly drifted upward, using the sails to turn the huge leviathan to a northerly heading. The wind tugged at my hat.
“Are you all settled in, Mrs. Blume?”
I smiled as the ship’s Purser joined me. “Yes. It’s a lovely ship.”
He smiled charmingly. “Will your husband be joining you later?”
If he thought he wasn’t being obvious he was sadly mistaken. “No. I’m a widow, Mr. Assaugio.”
“But you’re so young!”
He wasn’t that much ol
der than I was. “Old enough.”
“For what?”
I shrugged. “Life, love, travel…”
He smiled, amusement in his eyes. “As old as that? How long were you married?”
I was silent a moment. “Eight years.”
His face sobered, and his voice became gentle.”You must have been a child bride! Do you still miss him?”
If he hadn’t been a stranger I might have most emphatically denied it. My marriage was a war from my wedding night until the day Josh Blume died, leaving me shocked to inherit his considerable fortune. Josh accused me of cuckolding him on our wedding night, and never touched me after that. I was a prisoner in his Chicago mansion, with fewer freedoms than the servants. He continued to accuse me of infidelity with every man who came to the house, even going so far as to purchase Sally so I needn’t have a servant in my room. He didn’t want me, but wouldn’t let me go. Yet I never cheated on him.
I arranged my face in a suitable expression, and kept my reply short. I wasn’t going to air my dirty laundry to a stranger. “Yes. Of course.”
“Have you ever thought you might take another lover?” He touched my arm sympathetically.
I nearly laughed. If he only knew! I had taken multiple lovers since my husband’s death. After selling everything he owned, I was traveling the country, meeting and screwing forty different men, as my uncle had once advised his son to do with women. If I ever married again, it would be with my eyes wide open.
“Well, perhaps…” I said demurely, lowering my lashes to hide my amused eyes.
Mr. Assaugio’s voice deepened. “Any man would be lucky to have you. You are very beautiful, Mrs Blume. May I call you Isabella?”
“All right, Mr. Assaugio.”
“No, no. You must call me Carlo.” He stepped even closer.
I looked up at him and studied his face. Was he going to kiss me right here, in view of the other passengers? He certainly studied my mouth intently, but in the end he surprised me.
“Would you care to dine with me at the Captain’s table tonight, Isabella?”
I smiled, ignoring the sudden fluttering in my stomach at the mention of the captain. “Yes, of course. That would be lovely.”
Here was a handsome man who desired my company. I should have known something was amiss when I couldn’t muster more than an amused interest for him.
He smiled, too, not quite concealing his feelingof victory. “I must attend to my work now, but I will meet you at your suite at 7pm and escort you to dinner. Will that suit you?”
“That will be fine.” In truth, I did look forward to the cat and mouse game of attraction he was playing. He was a safe choice, the kind I preferred. I wasn’t going to fall in love with him, nor he with me. He knew I was a widow, and assumed correctly that I knew men viewed us as desperate for attention and experienced enough to know the score. I sensed, too, he needed the chase. It was part of the game. It would not do to give myself to him too easily. Would he push me tonight, or play the long game? Was he a good lover? Did he care about a woman’s needs, or did he believe, like so many men did, that only whores liked sex?
As we gained altitude, the wind picked up, causing my eyes to water. I needed my googles and warmer clothes if I stayed on deck. Deciding against this, I hurried back to the suite.
I allowed extra time to dress that evening. Sally tried to help, but her hands and fingers just weren’t nimble enough now. Since I was doing my own hair, I settled for a simple upswept style with little wisps in front of my ears, which was one of the few hairstyles I knew how to do.
My gown was an unusual, elegant shade of deep rose. It had delicate lace above the bosom and on the elbow length sleeves. The floor length skirt was full in the back, but fitted to the knees in the front, flaring after that point. I had eschewed the usual train at the bottom as impractical.
At dinner I was surprised to be seated between Captain Olaf on my left at the head of the table, and Carlo on my right. I had no trouble making conversation with the Purser, but once again I was curiously tongue-tied by the stern regard of the captain. I cursed my uncharacteristic shyness. He certainly did his best to carry the conversation with me. He asked me where I was from, which led to me stammering out “Chicago”, and he asked me if I was going all the way to New York City. I didn’t even manage words then, merely nodding yes. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the man. For some reason, I found him fascinating. He must have thought me half-witted, the way I keep looking at him, then away when he met my eyes.
It really was too bad I had so much trouble talking to him. I had so many questions! What was it like to sail the skies as an airship captain?
A woman named Frieda sat on his left, across the table from me. Was that his wife? For some reason, I was disappointed to think so. I liked the thought of this man traveling foot-loose and fancy-free, like me.
As we all rose from our seats after the meal, Carlo laid his hand on my sleeve. “Would you like a tour of the Frigga?”
I was startled to realized I had scarcely thought of him all evening. In fact, when Captain Olaf overheard him and frowned, looking away from us, I almost declined. But manners dictated I accept. “Yes. That would be lovely.”
Once Carlo and I left the Dove Dining Hall, I asked him about the bird names for many of the rooms on the ship. He told me it was because the Frigga flew free like the birds. There was my room, the Swallow Suite, a sitting room called the Pelican Parlor, and a room full of books called the Lark Library. The bridge was the Eagle’s Nest. My tour ended at the Canary Cargo bay, where I was startled by a calico clockwork cat that dashed behind some crates. I jumped back with a gasp, right into Carlo’s arms.
He turned me around and kissed me.
It was a perfectly nice kiss, firm and yet gentle, but it did absolutely nothing for me. No tingling warmth shot to my core, my nipples did not spring to attention. I felt neither excitement nor revulsion.
It seemed Carlo had a similar reaction. He lifted his head and stepped back a pace. “Cara, I don’t know how to tell you this…”
I nodded. “I know. I don’t feel it either.”
He exhaled, obviously relieved. “I like you, Isabella. You are a beautiful woman, but…”
I was aware of a growing sense of relief in myself, too. Why? My last lover had made me burn with desire. We had copulated like rabbits when he wasn’t working, and once, in a broom closet, when he was. The thought of William brought with it a growing concern. Had I fallen in love, despite my commitment to avoid emotional entanglements? Would I be unable to desire anyone else? I really didn’t want that. I wasn’t ready to abandon my education in the amorous arts. Yet, I also wasn’t ready to fuck a man who didn’t want me.
Carlo walked me back to my suite, kissed me on the cheek in the deserted hallway, and we parted as friends.
The next day, while I was on deck, warmly dressed in my brown wool skirt and jacket, googles firmly fixed over my eyes, hair tucked under my stovepipe hat, I was surprised to see Frieda dressed in grease-stained trousers, a gansey sweater, and googles. She was bent over a mechanical winch with tools at the ready on her belt. As I passed, she looked up. She hailed me with a wave. “Mrs. Blume!”
I hesitated, not remembering her surname. Did I call her Missus or Miss? “Hello.” My usual healthy curiosity was piqued.
She stood up, wiped her hands on a clean rag and extended her right hand to me. “I’m Frieda Thorson. Do you remember me from dinner last night?”
I shook it. Her grip was firm, but not hard. “I didn’t catch your last name before this.” My heart was sinking like a stone for some reason. “Do you work on the boat, too?”
She grinned. “I’m the ship’s head mechanic. I fixed so many things, my brother finally had to put me on the payroll.”
I smiled back, my heart rebounding in my chest. “Captain Olaf is your brother?”
Her eyes narrowed briefly. Then she smiled even more broadly. “Yup. He likes to think he’s in charge
of me, but I’m older than he is, and I won’t let him forget it.”
I laughed, suddenly unreasonably happy.
She cocked her head. “Would you take tea with me at four o’clock this afternoon?” She gestured to her dirty trousers. “I promise I’ll get cleaned up when I’m done here.”
“I’d love to. Where?”
“The Pelican Parlor.”
I smiled again. “See you then.”
When I arrived at the appointed time, Frieda was already there, the clockwork cat purring audibly on her lap. I motioned her not to get up. A bone china tea service on a silver tray lay on the low table in front of her. Sitting beside her, I smiled. “Shall I pour?”
“You’re my guest, but if I pour Seamus will jump down. So, yes, please.”
When we both had full cups and plates of tea sandwiches, I settled back in my upholstered wing chair and waited for her to tell me what was on her mind.
“It’s not often I get to spend time with single women who aren’t surrounded by children on vacation, Mrs. Blume.” She began.
“Call me Isabella.”
“Then you must call me Frieda.” She took a sip of tea. As she leaned forward to set the cup down, the cat meowed indignantly, jumped off her lap, and trotted out of the room. “Cat’s are so touchy, aren’t they? A dog would just use the opportunity to lick my face.”
Having never had a dog or a cat, I took her word for it. “Is Seamus your cat?”
“Oh, no. Seamus belongs to Seamus. He snuck aboard in New York City one night and never left. He’s an excellent mouser, so Olaf let him stay. The crew takes care of his maintenance. Olaf gets his animation spells renewed every year.”
I tried to imagine the gruff Olaf caring for the little creature, and had to smile. The image made him more approachable in my eyes.
We ate and drank in silence for a few minutes. I was casting around in my mind for another conversational topic when Frieda surprised me.