Letting Off Steam

by Kelly, Sahara

  Letting Off Steam

  An SK Private Label Story

  Sahara Kelly

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2011 Sahara Kelly

  Discover other titles by Sahara Kelly at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  To all the readers who enjoy their romance with hot and spicy sauce; for those who would love to play Victorian Miss for an evening, and for those who just like a simple tale of boy meets girl and nature takes its course - this book is for you. It's not a real Steampunk story, just a nod to a genre I really enjoy reading and writing.

  To my family - love, as always.

  To my best friend and writing partner, you do indeed raise me up, as the song says, and your support makes me more than I can be. Thank you.

  Author's Note

  Set in Boston, this story uses as many real places as possible. Beacon Hill is an elegant and older section of the city, where the homes boast historical associations and are appropriately expensive. There is no "Revolution Lane", to my knowledge. I made that name up. The Charles River and Cambridge, however, do exist and would be visible from the location I imagined for Olivia's office building.

  This is a brand new work, and has not been previously released anywhere.

  Enjoy!

  Chapter One

  "What the hell is Steampunk, anyway?" Olivia Hayden squinted at the invitation as she held it to the desk lamp. "Is this a plumbers' ball or something?"

  Her friend sighed. "Sweetie, where have you been for the last few years?"

  "Not paying attention, obviously."

  "Okay. Listen up." Cora rested her elbows on the low partition surrounding Olivia's cubicle. "Steampunk is a celebration of the past...Victorian stuff. Lots of embellishments, fancy decorative styles, frills, flounces and feathers." She stared at Olivia. "You with me so far?"

  Livvy nodded. "Victorian feathers. Gotcha."

  "Then you toss in the futuristic element. Machines. Not butt-ugly Zamboni type machines, of course."

  "Of course not." Livvy shook her head at the mention of the rink-smoothing monstrosity so beloved of ice hockey fans everywhere, but most especially in Boston.

  "Steampunk machines gleam. They shine. They open a door into a future that we never imagined. They move; they clatter rhythmically. They puff out woofs of steam now and again, enhance life, enchant everyone who sees them--"

  "Kind of like a new sports car?"

  Cora frowned and waved the comment aside. "Mundane stuff. No, Steampunk machines are imaginary and beautiful. They herald a Victorian view of what lies ahead which embraces all possibilities."

  "Ah."

  "And they can, human nature being what it is, destroy as well."

  "Hmm. Is there a death ray in my future?"

  Cora glared over her crossed arms. "Yes, if you keep making snarky comments."

  "Sorry."

  "This is the world of mad scientists, corsets, flying dirigibles and searingly hot sex."

  "Aha." Livvy grinned. "Now we're getting to the nitty gritty. I knew that had to be in there somewhere."

  "What's wrong with hot sex?" Cora tilted her head questioningly to one side.

  "Not a damn thing." Livvy chuckled. "I assume you're talking about having it with another human being?"

  Rolling her eyes, the other woman straightened. "You need to get out more. Battery operated devices are no substitute for the skilled touch of a lover."

  "Yeah well...find me a skilled lover and I'll consider letting him touch me. But I want to see a signed affidavit first." Livvy put the card down on her desk and leaned back in her chair. "You and I both know I've pretty much struck out in that department."

  "Doesn't mean you have to give up." Cora flashed back her response with a challenging lift of her chin.

  "And you think this Steam thing is going to provide the impossible? A guy who actually knows his way around a woman's erogenous zones without a roadmap, a GPS system and a compass? Not to mention a handbook written by an expert sex therapist and a hot romance novel tucked in his pockets just for additional tips?"

  "Would it kill you to come with me and find out?"

  Livvy gnawed on her bottom lip, mulling over the decision. She wasn't a party girl by any stretch of the imagination. She'd given up on dates a few months ago when the last in a long string of useless males had dropped her off at her door. Without a goodnight kiss--for which she was actually grateful. There'd been way too much garlic in the sauce at dinner for her tastes. She didn't want to relive the experience by having even more of the flavor thrust into her mouth by a guy who seemed to think the world revolved around him. And his dog.

  She sighed. "I suppose not. But costumes, Cora? I have no freakin' clue what I'd wear. And this says they're mandatory." She tapped the card.

  "Yes. That's the super fun part. Dressing up."

  Livvy looked doubtful, glancing up over her monitor at her friend. "Really?"

  "Trust me on this. I know people." She checked her watch. "Tomorrow evening we'll go visit a friend of mine. He's got some costumes we can check out."

  "This means I'm going, doesn't it?" Livvy sighed.

  "You were in any doubt?"

  "I guess you had me at hey Livvy."

  Cora grinned. "I always do. You're such a pushover."

  "Bitch."

  "Love you too. See ya later."

  Cora's laugh hung in the air, along with a trace of her perfume, as she strode away from Livvy's cubicle,. She was one of those people who left an impression of colors and fun. Livvy envied her that.

  Her gaze dropped to the card and she picked it up once more, reading the politely formal request for the honor of Cora's presence, accompanied by a guest. The affair was termed "Steampunk in the Hub" -- the Hub being the local way of describing Boston.

  She noticed the address and her lips pursed into a silent whistle. This was Beacon Hill at its glitziest. She was vaguely familiar with the area, having spent more than a few summer weekends prowling the city. She'd loved the cobblestone streets and the old elegant homes, many of which had been converted into condos and even shops on the ground floor. But still more were much as they probably had been a hundred or so years before.

  It seemed that the local Steampunk society sponsoring this event had managed to snag the perfect venue. An old Victorian home where they could enjoy some neo-Victorian madness.

  And let's not forget the hot sex, Livvy. Hope springs eternal.

  Yeah, right.

  *~*~*~*

  The leaves crunched and rustled around them as the two women walked down Revolution Lane to the Steampunk party a few nights later.

  Their era-appropriate laced boots tapped smartly on the cobblestones and both tugged their cloaks up around their ears to protect them from the wind that was already developing a sharp edge and whispering winter. It was only October, but the nights were getting colder, the air smelled of chrysanthemums and dying foliage, and everyone who lived in New England knew it was time to get out the woollies and turn on the furnace.

  Livvy was still struggling with her skirt, not being used to her ass sticking out behind her. The joys of wearing a bustle were few, although for once it was nice not to have to worry about whether an outfit made her butt look big. The full rear-end ruffles were supposed
to.

  Cora seemed quite comfortable however, exiting the cab with aplomb and not, as Livvy had, tripping over the many flounces on her hem. The driver had been amused, but silent, which was a good thing since he'd pointed out he couldn't safely get his cab down the narrow street they'd directed him to. Livvy wanted to ask what the hell good he was if he couldn't deliver them to the front door, but thankfully her feet didn't hurt, it wasn't raining, and the short walk gave her chance to gather her thoughts.

  "Are you sure about this?" She touched Cora on the arm.

  "Nervous?"

  Livvy nodded. "Of course. I'm dressed up like something out of an Edith Wharton novel and going to a strange house. In an admittedly gorgeous part of town, but serial killers can have money, you know." She shrugged. "I'm relying on you here. If anything goes wrong I shall get horribly medieval on your ass for the rest of our lives."

  "Fair enough." Cora nodded back. "And if it's the best night you've ever had, I shall expect your appreciation to involve lots of money and those Christian Laboutins you found at the Saks Outlet."

  "Deal." Livvy held out her hand and grinned as her friend shook it. "The shoes pinch."

  "As if I care." Cora checked house numbers. "This is it."

  Livvy took a breath. The door was elegant, the brass knocker large and polished to a sharp gleam. There were glass panels on the top, arched and frosted. The steps to the door were spotless, probably marble or something, and the house itself part of a series of row houses, identical in appearance, with the exception of some small window boxes.

  Given the time of year, Livvy wasn't surprised to see a display of chrysanthemums in each, reflecting the light from the old-fashioned gas lamps. Or whatever high tech, environmentally responsible system had been designed to perfectly mimic gas lamps. One never knew in these ritzy parts of town, where people could afford things that the rest of the world could barely imagine.

  Come to think of it, this was a perfect place for a Steampunk party.

  The door opened and the sound of music wafted out into the street. It surprised Livvy, since it wasn't the mellow melodies of a string quartet--something she expected given the Victorian theme. No, this was more of a carousel-hurdy-gurdy type noise. Fun, toe-tapping and intriguing.

  "May I see your invitation, Madam?"

  Dear God. A real butler.

  He wore the obligatory tuxedo sort of outfit and white gloves, one of which he extended with a small silver tray in it. Cora placed her invitation on top and waited as he examined it. Finally, he nodded, his grey hair flying around his lined face. "Very good Miss. You and your guest are most welcome." He ushered them in and closed the door. "A maid will assist you in removing your outer garments. Here, in the small parlor."

  True to his word, a woman dressed as a maid smiled at them and helped them off with their cloaks. In silence--and more than a little intimidated by being waited on--they straightened their hats and gowns and fluffed their bustles.

  Livvy bit back a giggle at the notion of fluffing her bustle. It was almost pornographic in some ways, but then again, the idea of hot sex had taken root. The upthrust of her assets by the corset was helping the notion along, since she wasn't used to having quite so much cleavage on display and it made her feel partly naked.

  Oh well. There was, as Cora had pointed out, always a chance...

  "If you go through here, ladies..." the maid pointed at a door, "you'll find yourselves in the grand hall. Just go up the main staircase and our Master of Ceremonies will announce you." She smiled. "Have a lovely evening."

  "Thank you. I'm sure we will." Livvy smiled, biting down on the nerves that had flared at the idea of being announced.

  However, they followed their directions, and Cora gasped as they entered what was clearly the grand hall. Grand indeed. "Holy cow."

  Both women stared at the soaring ceiling, the carvings and the staircase, which could have come right from a Hollywood movie set. "It didn't look this big from the outside." Cora was frowning as she spoke.

  "It's the depth, not the width." Ever practical, Livvy was evaluating the massive foyer. Its height was emphasized by columns and by the clever decor drawing the eye upward. The staircase dominated, also drawing the eye up. The width of the hall wasn't really that huge, hence the ordinary outside appearance. But indoors, the architects had clearly been allowed full rein. Two stories had been taken over for this one room alone. What on earth could be at the top of the steps?

  Gathering her skirts into her gloved hand, Livvy moved to find out, carefully ascending with her back ramrod straight and her other hand on the polished banister.

  This had nothing to do with correct Victorian posture, but everything to do with her corset--laced so tightly beneath her short jacket. It featured a ruffle of lace brushing teasingly over the tops of breasts pushed voluptuously high by the clever engineering of her undergarments. God bless the Victorians. No wonder they had so many sexual issues. With breasts so prominently on display, they must have thought about sex all the time. Unfortunately, with the complexity of the clothing, they probably didn't get to have any very often.

  She grinned as she reached the top step without incident. This was rather fun, in an obscurely historical kind of way.

  Her gown swished delightfully, the silk skirts flowing over a multi-layered petticoat. She'd refused a hoop, saying that was for the experienced costume wearers not the weekend playgroup. She loved the rich maroon silk and the heavily embroidered corset of the same shade, and the fact that her ensemble was completed by silk gloves. At the present time they were mostly concealed beneath the sleeves of her matching maroon brocade jacket, but she had the option of removing that for dancing if she got the urge.

  Her hair was pinned up into a tousled knot and tucked into a whimsical kind of hat consisting of a lot of feathers, a couple of fabric flowers, some ribbon and a cloud of maroon tulle. Cora had damn near nailed it to her head with a hatpin close to six inches long. Livvy wondered if she should have applied for a license to carry concealed, since she was pretty sure she could take out someone with that pretty bauble if she was so inclined.

  Cora herself was stunning in midnight blue, which made the most of her blonde Amazon beauty. And at this moment she was frozen in place. "Oh my God."

  In front of them was a ballroom, and--no question about it--this redefined huge in Livvy's vocabulary. It must have been four times as wide as the hall and already her mind was figuring out the mechanics of buying four row houses, gutting them and then recreating the interior of a Victorian mansion out of them. It was awe inspiring to say the least. A breathtaking panorama from the past brought to life before their eyes.

  "Your names, ladies?" A very elegant man wearing the uniform of a nineteenth century footman, stepped forward. "Just your first names and your city of residence please."

  "Uh..." Cora swallowed, her gaze swiveling between the footman and the throng of costumed dancers in front of them.

  "Olivia," said Livvy with a smile. "Olivia from Medford. And this is Cora. Somerville."

  "Very good, Miss. Thank you."

  To Livvy's surprise, he turned, walked to the top of the small steps leading to the dance floor and loudly announced "Miss Olivia Medford and Miss Cora Somerville."

  Livvy spared a moment to be thankful she didn't live in Magnolia. That would have been too much.

  A few heads turned, but mostly their arrival went unnoticed, which was both good and bad, depending on how one looked at it. For her part, Livvy was relieved.

  "Hot damn." Cora was regaining the power of speech. "Will you look at this?"

  Together they walked down the few steps and onto the dance floor, finding themselves instantly surrounded by people talking, laughing, strolling arm-in-arm, and moving to and fro with glasses in their hands.

  "Drink. I need a drink." Cora grabbed Livvy. "This way."

  Overwhelmed by the rainbow of colors and the magnificence of the costumes around her, Livvy let Cora tug her toward one s
ide of the room. There, two waiters were busily mixing drinks and serving clients.

  They waited their turn, absorbing the glitter and sparkle of the women and the delightful appearance of the men.

  "You know, I reckon most of the guys I know would get a lot more dates if they dressed like this now and again." Cora watched a tall man stroll past in a dark suit that could have been the forerunner to the modern tuxedo, but had a lot more flair to it. His shirt was pristine and his vest--waistcoat Livvy remembered--was heavily ornamented with gold thread.

  "No arguments there." Livvy smiled, her attention caught by a magnificent gown of rose pink and a necklace with jewels on it the size of eggs. She hoped it was a costume piece but honestly wasn't sure.

  She'd felt overdressed and a bit silly when they'd set out. Now she wished she'd stuck a couple more flowers in her hat.

  "Good evening ladies." A man in an emerald green jacket was standing behind them and they turned at his words. "May I say how lovely it is to see two new faces joining our merry band?" He bowed.

  Livvy couldn't help but dip into a slight curtsey. It just seemed the appropriate thing to do. Too many Regency romances, kiddo.

  She ignored the muffled choking sound from Cora. "Thank you sir. This is lovely indeed."

  "If I may introduce myself--Sir Steven Newton at your service." His gaze lingered on Cora's blonde curls and drifted south to her deep cleavage. "Anything I can do to make your evening a success--name it."

  Cora flashed dimples at him. "You're very kind. We're about to get something to drink."

  "Ah yes. Most wise. The dancing will start soon and then everyone will be thirsty." He extended his arm to Cora. "May I?"

  "You may indeed." Cora readily took it.

  "My dear?" The other arm pointed her way.

  Livvy shook her head. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to wander a little. Is that all right with you, Cora?"