She glanced at the clock. It was 7:30, and there was ample time for her to work on her next project: advancing her research on the effect of time taken to achieve orgasm on the total energy harvested. She’d been working on it off and on for years, but Edwin had notified her of a new crewman that might prove interesting. While her research was far from complete, she could at least collect data from this specimen. She gathered her parchment in preparation for the test.
“Giles!” she called.
Giles entered with a new set of sheets. He had read her mind, again. He quickly and quietly made the bed with skill that would rival even Edwin, and then departed silently.
At length, two men walked in: Alonso, a dark-haired, attractive young man of Spanish descent, and Francis, an equally attractive, younger man of British descent. Francis was new, while Alonso had spent the last couple of years working for Edwin on various ships. The two were very good together, and apparently Francis had the uncanny ability to reach orgasm repeatedly in short succession. He was the main reason the two of them were here.
“So which one of you is the one with the insatiable dick?” Harriet asked bluntly.
Francis grinned and nodded to her, flashing a garish smile. “That’s me, my good lady,” he said.
Ugh, Harriet thought. There were no other words. She sighed. “You,” she said to Alonso. “Why are you here?”
Alonso looked at her, confused, then answered with a light Spanish accent, “Mister Albert said you were looking for two gays?”
Harriet frowned. Yes, she had asked for two gays. Well, for now, she didn’t need two gays; she needed dick-boy.
“You can go,” she said to Alonso, waving her hand dismissively. Alonso gave a helpless look to Francis, who reached over and gave him a peck on the cheek and patted his bottom, escorting him gently out the door.
“Get off,” Harriet said simply, gesturing to the freshly made bed.
Francis was, by now, used to being ordered to get off. Due to some poor choices he’d made when he first joined the crew, he’d been under Alonso’s strict control for several days, and Alonso, acting on orders from Edwin, had had Francis getting off as much as he could stand it, which was a whole lot. It was strange, though, for a woman to give the orders, and he cocked his head slightly.
Harriet sighed, frustrated. Were all of her test subjects going to be stupid today? She considered making a large pool of test subjects and floating lead on them; surely the lead, being of lighter density, would float on top. An idea popped into her head, and she brightened. Maybe she could feed her adversaries her stupid test subjects! That would solve two problems at once! She shook her head, regarding Francis. He was still there, still looking at her with that idiotic head of his cocked to the side.
“Dick-boy, I’m going to test the effect of you climaxing repeatedly versus waiting between orgasms, but I cannot get test data if you don’t cooperate,” she said pointedly.
Francis grimaced. Once a spoiled only child used to getting exactly what he wanted when he wanted it, he was now a test subject. One thing was for sure: the airship was teaching him humility. He put his brass sock on and began stroking himself.
Harriet began to wonder if the boy’s head was filled with helium. “Plug in,” she said dully.
Francis, who was on the verge of climax, groaned at the interruption but obeyed. The gauge registered a few megawatts, just under a third of what was needed to drive one of the giant motors that was responsible for the ship’s power. Harriet frowned. The output was surprisingly low, given as close to climax as the bionic penis seemed. Sure enough, seconds later, he groaned and the power dropped to zero.
Curses! Harriet wished she had another PCA with the PCPA installed. She’d have to add that to her list of things to study. Nevertheless, she stepped out from behind the desk, took up the strip chart, and examined it, doing some calculations in her head. She wrote some numbers down on her parchment.
“Again,” she said but heard snickering behind her. She turned. Francis’s face was deep red, and he was trying very hard not to burst out laughing.
Harriet’s temper surged. “What’s so bloody funny?” she shouted irately, her head turning as red as his.
Francis’s snickering stopped abruptly, and he gulped.
“Well?” Harriet demanded. Francis cringed.
Harriet put her short arms on her hips and tapped her foot impatiently. Francis sighed. She wasn’t going to let him off the hook.
“My good lady,” he began nervously, “it’s just that, ah…” he trailed off. There wasn’t a person on the ship that made him nervous — until now. Young and cocky, he’d been humbled by his previous experiences, but he still regarded himself as thoroughly capable of handling himself. Yet this person with explosive temper packed into such a…compact…package unnerved him.
“Well?”
“It’s just that you’re, er, vertically challenged,” Francis finally managed to squeak out, although by now, he felt as though she towered over him.
Harriet said nothing. She knew that people poked fun about her stature behind her back, but few were stupid enough to say it to her face. If she weren’t so eager to collect the information she needed, she’d have read him the riot act, but for now, she let it go. Francis already looked humbled enough.
“Again,” she repeated, and Francis quickly complied, relieved not to have been castrated. Again, the gauge peaked out at a few megawatts, and he was spent. She recorded some more numbers after looking at the strip chart.
“Again,” came the command, and the process ensued once more. She continued this for five trials, and then compared her notes. He was very consistent: he always peaked at thirty percent after 15 to 16 seconds, and his orgasms lasted an average of 9.63 seconds with a standard deviation of 0.23 seconds. Now she wanted to try something different.
“I want you to go again,” she said, “but I want you to take it slowly, to try to take twice as long to reach orgasm.”
Francis looked puzzled. The formula went jack off, get off. That was all there was to it. Alonso had showed him the joys of taking his time with someone else, but that was different.
Harriet was losing her patience. “Dick-boy, put your dick in your hand and stroke yourself slowly,” she said exasperatedly.
Francis did as instructed, but the activity he’d been doing since he was twelve was very ingrained, and before Harriet could do anything, he sped up and climaxed. It had taken 17 seconds.
“Giles!” Harriet called, her patience exhausted.
“Yes, madam?” Giles asked presently.
“Bring back the other gay,” Harriet said. “I need someone to get this guy off more slowly.”
Giles frowned, then disappeared.
“I’m sorry, my good lady,” Francis said, embarrassed. “I’ve always just gone for it.”
“Yes, I’m sure you have,” Harriet said bluntly. Maybe the other gay boy could teach him to slow down and improve his output. She tapped her pen on the table impatiently.
Alonso knocked on the door.
“Come in!” Harriet yelled irritably. Alonso entered, closing the door behind him. “Oh, other gay-boy, good, you’re here. Get him off slowly,” Harriet said, gesturing to Francis.
Alonso grinned. “Still haven’t figured it out, yet?” he asked Francis teasingly.
“Shut up,” Francis retorted, grinning sheepishly.
“Lie back,” Alonso said gently. Francis did as told, and Alonso stroked his fingers lightly over the brass sock.
“Ohh,” Francis murmured. Alonso’s fingers trailed down the sock, then grazed across Francis’s balls. Francis shuddered. So did the needle on the gauge.
Francis felt his orgasm building like a heat in his testes that slowly spread throughout his groin. A tinge of excitement started building, like a thunderhead in his forehead, seeking a clear path to his balls. Still Alonso teased him along, stroking his fingers over sensitive spots, and the charge slowly built inside Francis’s body. H
is toes curled, and he whimpered in lust that would not quite give way to climax.
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.
Steampunk Desires: An Erotic Romance (The Complete Collection) Page 13