Thomas S. Roche - Like A Wisp of Steam: Steampunk Erotica (The Erotic Steampunk Library)

Like A Wisp of Steam: Steampunk Erotica by Cecilia Tan, J. Blackmore

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Welcome to the Circlet Press ebook edition of: Like a Wisp of Steam

Steampunk Erotica

C.Tan & J. Blackmore, Eds.

Copyright 2008 Circlet Press, Inc.

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Jason Rubis

Quite out of nowhere, Mary Ann said, "He's in love with you."

Amelia Lessington, down to her girdle and bloomers but still struggling with her boots, looked up and frowned. "What?

Who's in love with me? What on Earth are you on about?"

The chimera, motionless by the dressing-room door, regarded Amelia with unblinking yellow eyes. She stood with her hands behind her back, like a child prepared to give a recitation. There were some unusual features concealed under her skinshe'd hardly be worth calling a chimera otherwise

but on the surface, except for her strange feline gaze, she looked like a pretty, petite girl of eighteen or so.

"That daguerrographer. He's been making sheep's eyes at you all day, from the moment you shook his hand. I shouldn't wonder he's written you a sonnet by now. That's what men in love do, you know."

"Ah. Well, I'm glad to have the benefit of your extensive experience in matters of the heart. After all, you've been out of the vat, what, a whole month now?" Amelia extended a long leg. "Make yourself useful and help me get this bloody boot off."

"English ladies don't use words like 'bloody,'" Mary Ann pointed out. But she readily went on her knees, deftly undoing the buttons on her mistress's boot.

"No, and they don't show bare feet and bare legs to the loving English menfolk, either."

"Why are you doing it, then?"

"Times change," Amelia grunted, bracing herself on the chair's arms as the boot came off her foot. "Besides, it was Edward's idea. It'll be charming for these pictures he's insisted on having for the new books. It's a bid for my lost girlhood, all in keeping with my professional reputation as spinner of childhood dreams; barefoot innocent days of youth, that sort of thing. Of course, when I was a girl my feet weren't so crabbed and ugly."

"Your foot is still pretty, I think," Mary Ann observed, turning it in her hands. She poised a fingernail over the damp sole and turned an innocent face to Amelia's stony glare. "Is it ticklish?"

Amelia allowed herself a tight smile. "Try it and I'll have boiled chimera for tea. My last three Mary Anns weren't half so cheeky, you know. I should have had a Wellington instead."

Mary Ann kissed her foot, running her tongue-tip along the underside of her toes. Amelia shuddered, not unpleasurably.

"Stop that. We've got business to attend to."

"Later?"

"Perhaps, yes. If you behave during the shoot." Inside, however, she was thinking, Definitely yes. It had been a long time since her last go-round and the unaccustomed feeling of skin exposed to cool air excited her. It's nothing to be ashamed of, she told herself. Lots of people use chimerae for intimate purposes. It wasn't, after all, as though they were human beings. Still, she hadn't planned on using this Mary Ann for that purpose. And, more to the point, it was cock she craved, not tickles and kisses, however artfully administered.

Perhaps she would give herself a treat at Cullen's after this ordeal was over.

"Get that other boot off now, and let's go." She smiled mischievously. "We mustn't keep my admirer waiting, must we?"

* * * *

In the chaos of the main studio, the daguerrographer stood oblivious to everyone and everything, utterly absorbed by his preparations for the afternoon's session. The daguerrograph imaging-engine was a strange and sinister-looking device that reminded Amelia of a vast black insect, all its limbs partially folded up on themselves. Periodically it released a hissing shaft of steam from a hidden valve and shifted itself slightly, as though restlessly seeking a more comfortable position.

There were many such devices now, all derived from the same strange science that had allowed the creation of chimerae; machines unrelated in function but all sharing a strange resemblance to living things. Great bulbous airships like vast skyborne fish carried mail and cargo to every corner of the Empire. Cabriolets maneuvered the streets at breakneck speed, drawn by metallic extensions like skeletal horses, or guided by internal mechanisms that functioned as artificial brains. The church disapproved strenuously of these effigies of the Creator's work, but they made the world faster and more profitable; commerce would not be denied its toys.

Mr. Darwin, Amelia supposed, was having a jolly good laugh at the whole affair.

The daguerrographer's attention remained firmly fixed on his machine. Amelia felt a bit piqued by this, for no reason she could determine. Perhaps it was Mary Ann's silly speculation on the man's supposed infatuation with her.

Edward Roxby, her business agent, was seated nearby. He rose when he saw Amelia, his plump red face beaming. "My dear," he exclaimed, offering her his hand. He gestured at the dark, simple dress Amelia had changed into. "You look utterly ravishing. What a lovely country lass you make!"

As though you'd notice, Amelia thought wryly, glancing at the tall, rather absurdly muscular young man who trailed along after Edward, following him step for step. The fellow wore nothing but a sort of abbreviated toga, and had the blank white eyes of an Adonis-model chimera.

Times were changing indeed, Amelia reflected. Not so long ago, a respectable businessman would never have dared avail himself of such a toynot in the light of day, certainly. Not five years ago, Roxby would have been hounded out of London as a godless sodomite.

"Thank you, dear Edward." Some inner demon of perversity forced her chin up, and she said, loudly, "I wonder if the rest of the room is in agreement." She was speaking directly to the daguerrographer's black-jacketed back, and she had the pleasure of seeing him twitch.

Perhaps he really is in love with me, she thought. Well,why not? I'm not a hag quite yet, and he's not a poorly-mademan. Or perhaps I just feel sorry for him because of thestammer. She shrugged the thought off, setting herself down in a chair so the daguerrographer's assistants could chatter over her and apply powders to her face. Mary Ann stood beside her, watching the process with great interest. The powders were meant to eliminate the glare of reflected light from her face in the final images, but Amelia was unused to makeup in such quantity, and its application now made her uncomfortable.

The studio was swarming with chimerae of every make and model. Amelia distracted herself by watching them. They were here for the daguerrographs, of course, to lend the right fantastical air. Many of them, unsurprisingly, were based on characters from her own books. They had been licensed and turned out by major chimera breeding firms for some time now, as toys for very rich children. The Plum-Pudding Prince waddled by, the Queen of Cheese close on his heels. Black-robed witches slouched muttering in corners; several not-quite identical versions of Master Christopher Pug stood gathered silently together, smoking their pipes with a curiously morose air. The sun-drenched upper reaches of the studio swarmed with fairies. It always amazed Amelia how quickly she had grown used to these creatures, even bored by them. The first time she had seen Mr. Tenniel's illustrations to her very first book,