“This motor was lent to us by the good people at Air Cruise Co.,” Harriet said, hating that she had to make the advertisement. “They are one of few companies with a motor so large, and we are grateful to them for its use. What you will see as this demonstration takes place is the power output displayed on the gauge. It has two scales. The upper scale is the percentage of power required to drive this motor. That is, when the needle reaches one hundred percent, the motor will turn on. The lower scale is the actual power in megawatts.”
“It’ll never work!” someone called from the audience, and the audience murmured agreement.
“Oh ye of little faith,” Harriet retorted hotly. Her temper was the only thing that rivaled her stature for shortness. “If it’s doomed to fail, then there’s no reason to stay around and watch. Be gone!” No one moved. “No? Then how about leaving the speaking to me and keeping your conjecture to yourself? Go get your own lecture hall!” She instantly recomposed herself and readopted her clinical demeanor.
“I will admit that the claims I’m making are of substantial consequence,” she said, “but I assure you that I would not stand before you today without months’ worth of extensive research. The device Vivian is holding is a power collection apparatus, colloquially known as a ‘brass sock.’ As you can see, it is cylindrical and hollow, except for the distal end, which is rounded for comfort during insertion. There are two reasons for the design: one, it prevents pregnancy when the man ejaculates, and two, the resonator and pickup coils are housed inside the tip. Careful attention has been paid to transmitting the sensations generated on the outside, either through sex or masturbation, to the inside to stimulate James. Likewise, his movement inside the device is transferred to the outside to stimulate Vivian. The result is that other than insertion and ejection of the device, neither of them feels as though the device is present. The cord on the proximal end enables power to be collected. Vivian, please connect the cord.” As prompted, Vivian took the cord and plugged it into a jack on the stand that held the gauge, which registered zero.
“Note that there is currently no energy being transmitted,” Harriet continued. “Vivian, go ahead and insert the device.” The two demonstrators nodded and climbed onto the bed. Vivian sat in front of the audience, brass sock in hand, and began to insert it. The audience watched with a mixture of lecherous and academic intent as the brass sock slipped inside of her until the cord was the only thing remaining.
“Proceed,” Harriet said when the device was in, and as the couple began to make out, she readdressed the audience. “Unlike the norms of today where sex is intended to be fast, as devoid of pleasure as possible, and never spoken of, I have instructed these two to savor it, to milk it out. Research indicates that while the duration of the climax may not significantly increase, the energy developed during foreplay can exceed the energy of the climax.” She glanced over. James was rubbing Vivian’s nipples, and she was writhing against him, although he had not yet penetrated her. The needle registered fifty percent.
“As you can see, they are already producing a sizable amount of energy,” Harriet pointed out. “They could continue like this most of the day, and by storing the energy, a single couple could produce enough power to run this motor for a fair bit of time. We did not bother to bring in the storage capacitor, as it is not needed for the demonstration.” The motor remained motionless, but the needle slowly ticked its way further to the right, approaching sixty percent.
“I am currently working on research to see if the energy created by same-sex couples can be used and stored, as well,” Harriet continued. The audience wasn’t listening, though. It is hard to pay attention to something academic when you have live-action sex occurring mere feet in front of you. Vivian leaned down to kiss James, and his cock hardened, throbbing. The cord dangled limply from Vivian’s vagina as she knelt over him and lowered herself onto him. The gauge sprung to eighty percent.
“Note that as long as the two are making contact,” Harriet pointed out, “the device is able to collect energy from both of them. Their oscillations synchronize, which is why sex with someone else frequently feels better than sex by yourself.” Here she spoke based on what she’d heard from her colleagues and observed in her test subjects; she herself had never had sex with anyone else.
James and Vivian meanwhile had begun fucking in earnest, and she rode up and down on his thick, hard shaft, her vagina leaking lubricant around the brass sock as James thrust hard into her. The needle on the gauge hovered just below one hundred percent, and James’s toes curled. With a roar, the motor started as the needle shot off to the right, exceeding one hundred percent and fourteen megawatts of power. It did not last long, though; Vivian fell on top of James, and the two relished the afterglow as the motor abruptly stopped, not twenty seconds after it had started. Still, it was enough to prove Harriet’s point, and the audience burst into applause.
“I hate to say, ‘I told you so,’” Harriet said after the applause had died down. “Oh, wait, I love saying that!” The audience burst into laughter. “Unfortunately, the climax only lasts a short time, as you saw, and so for any kind of useful work to be done, numerous couples like this would be necessary. We in the field are continually striving to collect more energy, to improve the resonators, and to store the energy more effectively. We thank you for your continued financial support that lets us keep doing what we do.” The audience applauded again as Harriet concluded her lecture, showing James and Vivian out.
By the time she got back to her office, the Air Cruise Co. executives were waiting for her.
“Impressive lecture, Dr. Beechworth,” the taller one said. He was gray-haired, with a long, thin face. Although he looked a bit like a vulture, as business executives go, he was actually probably the most honest to be found.
“Thank you,” Harriet said, taking off her lecturing attire.
“We’re with Air Cruise Co.,” the man persisted.
“Yes, I know,” Harriet said as she began to collect things from her office for her next experiment.
“The work you’re doing is revolutionary,” the shorter one said. His head was bald except for some black hair on the sides, and he was rather rotund, making him look like a large ball with legs.
“Yes, I know,” Harriet said again. Having collected her things, she left her office, heading for her lab. The two executives exchanged glances, and then hurried after her.
“We would like to recruit you, Dr. Beechworth,” the shorter one said hurriedly, puffing to keep up with her. For someone with such tiny legs, she moved with amazing swiftness.
“I am not looking to be recruited,” Harriet replied, reaching her lab.
“But we can offer you a sizable salary! Don’t be rash! Think of all the money you could make!” the short one urged.
Harriet whirled to face them. “I have no interest in money,” she said curtly. “I am here for the passion of my work.”
“What Mr. Evans is trying to say,” the taller one said, “is that we have a substantial budget, and we could provide you with an excellent lab and all the test subjects you would ever need.”
Harriet paused. She could do with some better test equipment, she thought.
“Yes,” Mr. Evans chimed in, “Mr. Collingsworth is absolutely right. You’d never have to lecture again. We know you only do that because your financiers make you.”
That was true; Harriet hated lecturing to the masses of idiots.
Mr. Evans knelt down by Harriet, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Just think, Dr. Beechworth,” he said, sweeping his other hand in front of them, “your own lab, the privacy you crave, and all the best lab equipment.”
“No interruptions?” Harriet asked, turning her head to face Mr. Evans, who shook his head earnestly. “No interruptions,” he said.
The rest was history. She’d accepted, of course, and had been given an entire deck on the enormous HMS Rapturion, Air Cruise Co.’s newest and finest airship, powered using the technology that sh
e had developed. The deck below her, the propulsion deck, consisted of cabins for the crew and a lot of space for them to copulate. For a ship as large as the Rapturion, it took a propulsion crew of hundreds of people to keep it running. Below that, the engine room housed the giant motors and even larger banks of energy storage apparatuses to keep the ship aloft. Above her were the non-propulsion crew’s cabins, and then three decks of third class, two of second, and one of first. The ship was beautiful, and thanks to innovations by her and others, it was far more energy-efficient than conventional airships that sailed the skies.
She had laid her lab out exactly like she wanted it: the front half of the deck was free space so that she could arrange her experiments wherever she wanted them. She had ample chalkboard space and entire room of extra chalk. It was not uncommon for her to go through a carton a day. The aft section of her lab was divided into rooms for raw materials, observation rooms, and the machine shop where she was currently working.
People were so stupid, she thought to herself again. They’d promised no interruptions, and she’d fallen for it. Ugh. She looked down at her work piece. In her reverie, her fingers had masterfully finished it without conscious thought. She smiled, satisfied, as she turned off the lathe. Finally, she thought as she carefully removed the piece and examined it minutely for accuracy. It was exactly as she needed it to be.
Harriet had been working on improving the qualities of the resonator; there was just so much potential opportunity for gain to be had if she could improve it, but a recent discovery — one of the few interruptions that she’d been willing to endure — had given her a new project. There was always time to work on the resonator. She suspected that as long as she lived, there would always be improvements she could make on it. But this was of particular interest. Rather than increasing the amplitude of the power collected, which depended primarily on the resonance and came in tiny increments, this new discovery would allow her to collect energy for a longer period, and sometimes much longer. When Edwin, the manager of the propulsion crew, had come to her a few days before telling her that there was energy to be had in the afterglow, it had keenly piqued her interest. The afterglow could last for minutes at a time, a huge increase over the ten-second orgasm that everybody raved about. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t figured it out on her own. Ah, well. She had to give credit to Edwin: for a career sailor, he was a pretty sharp guy. If there was anybody on this floating whale, nay, anyone in the world that she was willing to put up with, he was the one.
She thought wistfully about their last visit. His footsteps had distracted her and sent the first version of the PCPA flying off into space, which had irked her, but not nearly so much as the reason. The fool wanted chalkboards. Chalkboards! Some experiment he was doing. Edwin the scientist, she thought. Now there was an idea she could get used to! She imagined taking him to conferences with her, holding his hand as they answered all manner of scientific questions. Yes, they were working together. Yes, they did experiment on themselves. Yes, his cock was absolutely perfect.
She started. Ugh, he wasn’t even here and he was distracting her! Not that she knew what his cock looked like. She’d never seen it, although if the time were right, and if she wasn’t in the middle of something, and if she happened to be in the mood just then, she might like to.
She donned a pair of gloves and carried her finished PCPA out into the lab where she’d created a little research pod of sorts: chalkboards surrounded a table on five sides, leaving a sixth side open for her to enter the pod. An open PCA lay there, waiting to accept the tiny piece of hardware she’d just created. She carefully laid the new addition on a towel on the workbench and felt about her forehead for her magnifying glasses. Feeling them, she swung them down on spring-loaded brass supports to cover her eyes. Her world was instantly magnified thirtyfold. She took up a pair of tweezers and gently lifted the PCPA off the towel and fitted it into the PCA, wiggling it slightly to get it to lock in place. Just as she’d designed it, she felt it click, and she removed the tweezers. She took a breath and realized she’d quit breathing while performing the delicate operation. Air is a good thing, she reminded herself.
She took the cover that went inside the PCA to keep the delicate equipment protected from invading cocks and semen off the table and snapped it in place. Now to test it. Her body shook with excitement. If this worked, it would easily multiply the energy harvested by as much as sixtyfold. She took the PCA off the workbench and turned to leave.
Why was the world so big? She was short, but the chalkboard looked to be eighty feet tall! Oh. She disengaged her magnifying glasses with the flick of her hand, and they floated up above her curly dark blonde hair. With short, fast, purposeful steps, she made her way to one of the observation rooms across the hall from the machine shop. Opening the door, she found Eleanor — Elle for short — and Albert right where she’d left them several hours ago, standing naked in the observation room. They looked relieved.
“Harriet! Thank goodness! We couldn’t get out, and we’ve not eaten, drank, or relieved ourselves since this morning!” Elle cried as they both rushed for the door, nearly trampling Harriet on their way out. It looked like she’d have to wait. Humph! Blasted biology interfering with her work. Physics was such a better field! She carefully put the PCA down on the desk at the back of the observation room and sat, her elbow on the desk, cheek on her hand, tapping the desk impatiently with her other index finger. She glanced at the clock on the wall. The second hand seemed to move backwards. What was taking them so long?
“Giles!” she yelled. “Giles!”
The staunch servant appeared promptly from nowhere. “Yes, madam, what is it?” His demeanor was chilly but professional. He was, as best as she could tell, the perfect assistant: he had quickly learned her lab and her habits, was punctual in getting her meals to her and getting them cleaned up afterwards, could locate anything she needed anytime, and he was tall, which meant long legs, which meant that he could move faster than she could when she needed him to fetch something. But his best quality was the fact that he didn’t waste her time blathering on about inane things. He might as well have been a mute most of the time, which made him perfect. The perfect assistant for the perfect lab. She sighed contentedly.
“Giles, go fetch my test subjects,” she said perfunctorily. “They’re taking too long to do all of that biological stuff.” Without a word, Giles nodded and left. Harriet resumed watching the clock, which serenaded her with its tick, tick, tick. What was taking Giles so long? He was usually very prompt about these things. Perhaps she’d have to reconsider him as her servant.
“Here you are, madam,” Giles said momentarily, returning with Elle and Albert, who looked drained.
“Ah, there you are,” Harriet said pleasantly. Of course she was pleasant: she had her test subjects back, and it was time to see if her latest development worked or not. Giles departed, closing the door behind him.
“Harriet, these hours are grueling,” Albert complained. Elle nodded.
“Think of the science and don’t whine,” Harriet scoffed. “This may be the single biggest innovation since the discovery of coital energy!” Her chest puffed out with excitement. Seeing the other two unmoved, she exhaled. “Oh, forget it. Can’t expect common propulsion rabble to understand,” she muttered.
“I understand that the two of you were able to shock Edwin during your afterglow,” she said, getting to the point. “I’ve confirmed that through the tests we did yesterday. It turns out it’s not you; it was an error I made in making the coition transconductor on your PCA that made it susceptible to afterglow energy.” She regarded the blank stares with impatience, and then repeated herself slowly, explaining as if to half-witted children. “You got off. That is good. When you felt giddy afterward, you kept making energy. That is good. It’s not just you. Your brass sock was defective. I fixed the problem. Now you fuck again. Got it?”
Albert and Elle exchanged glances. Harriet was such an imperious bitch. �
��Yes, Harriet,” Albert said, “We get it.”
“Good. Then get fucking.”
Albert took Elle by the hand and led her to the bed opposite the desk in the observation room, but Harriet stopped them. “Forgetting something?” she asked, holding up the PCA in one hand, her chin on her other palm, elbow on the desk, with a helplessly exasperated expression. Albert returned and collected it, handing it to Elle, who slid it smoothly into her vagina. The cord dangled from her pudendum. She plugged it into a port in the wall next to the bed. Standing next to the bed was a gauge similar to the one Harriet had used years ago to demonstrate the power output. This one had a wider range, though, and beneath it was a strip chart recorder that jumped to life as soon as it sensed the connection of the PCA, slowly feeding a piece of paper through itself and making a mark to record the power output. Currently it read zero.
Steampunk Desires: An Erotic Romance (The Complete Collection) Page 11