Bring On the Heat

by Eden Bradley

  However, his adventurous, daring spirit was still evident in his rescue plan, as well as his penchant for unusual friends. He had been the only boy she knew who befriended both the vicar’s son and the town drunk’s son, the squire’s son and the blacksmith’s son. And he’d called her friend too, despite all his other playmates.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, playing with a lock of hair that had fallen on her shoulder.

  “What a good playmate you were.”

  “I still am,” he said, running his fingers down her ribs.

  She twisted away, laughing. “Still ticklish there.”

  He grinned. “I noticed.”

  “But, sir,” she said, sitting up. “We are in the wrong position for what we had planned.”

  “You could never be in the wrong position with your breasts in front of my mouth.” He lifted his head and tongued one of her nipples.

  She felt suspended in time, waiting to see what he did next. Most of her customers would pinch, but not this one. His gaze matched hers as he sucked gently, then offered the same service to her other nipple. Every move he made relaxed her.

  “You have beautiful breasts. Now come, sit on my face.”

  She smiled, delighted, and complied, twisting and slithering into position, tonguing her way down his flat stomach, pausing at his convex navel for a nibble, then feathering her fingers through the crisp hair at his groin.

  His cock stood at attention, glistening with pre-cum. She touched his scrotum and found his balls already gathered close to his body.

  Brace was not so deliberate with her. She arched when she felt his tongue dart up her cunny, stroking in and out. Then he tugged her hips closer and feasted on her pearl, sucking and laving and nibbling. But she had her own feast, with the rich scent of his personal musk to guide her way. She opened her mouth and slid it down his cock, swallowing to bring him deeper into her throat. Her own writhing against his mouth caused her to move on his cock so that they were in perfect harmony.

  Every so often he paused to let out a moan, to tighten his grip on her hips, to swirl his tongue along the insides of her labia. She teased too, though it was hard to focus with such exquisite sensations wracking her body.

  Her heavy fall of hair loosened from her pins and spread over his muscled thighs like the frosting on a cake. He must spend a lot of time walking the city and country, a popular pastime with young men. She wondered if he rode too. The thought made her giggle and bounce on his face. He slapped her bottom and pulled her harder against him.

  The additional pressure made flames lick up her belly. The muscles of her lower body tightened and she knew she didn’t have much longer. She had to make him come along with her. Swallowing again, she took him deep into her throat just as he sucked her pearl. Her body clenched. She broke, shuddering against him.

  He pulled her to one side and thrust hard into her mouth, then came himself, shooting his cum down her throat. She swallowed the creamy fluid then let his still-hard length fall from her lips, and rested her shuddering body against his thigh.

  If he could always offer her such pleasure, she was his for life.

  ~ * ~

  The next night, Brace toted the salt jar-sized Bunsen cell and other pieces of the magnet up the steps to his newly rented room, wrapped in the dark secondhand cloak he’d bought for Celeste. Noxious substances swished inside the cell as he fumbled for the key and opened the door.

  It was a little too early still, but he wanted to make sure the door to the roof was unlocked. When he’d satisfied his curiosity he went downstairs and found a fish-and-chips stall. On the way back to his room it started to rain. He was grateful because the storm would cover any sounds of his rescue.

  Once he locked his door again, he separated his order into three parts. One for now and two for later. He and Celeste would need something to bolster their spirits for the long night ahead.

  The carriage had been ordered for eight-thirty. He’d set the magnet on the roof directly over Celeste’s room, then climb back into this house and arrive at Mrs. Teagarden’s just before eight. When the proprietress brought him to Celeste’s room, hopefully no more than ten minutes after he’d set the magnet, her clockwork medallion should have stopped and they could leave out the trapdoor to the roof as soon as everyone was busy in the rooms around them. Since, according to Jonathan, the magnet ought to keep its strong assisted charge for four hours or more, they had plenty of time if anything went wrong.

  He wondered if any of the other whores would notice. When the chimes didn’t go off that would be a clue. Hopefully Mrs. Teagarden and her guards wouldn’t be near any of the women at the time. While he wished he could help everyone, Celeste was his focus.

  He ate the steaming hot fish and potatoes slowly, savoring each bite, wondering if this was his last night of solitude. Would Celeste want to stay with him in his rooms? Then again, did she have anywhere else to go? If she’d had friends, surely they could have rescued her from her father’s scheme before it happened. After three years of imprisonment, she’d have lost contact with anyone who might know her.

  He felt his cock hardening in his trousers as his brain unfailingly detailed all the many things they could do together late at night in privacy. How could he help her to forget except by erasing those memories of her customers with the love they made together? But did she have the kind of affection a woman had for a man with him, or did she simply remember their childhood days fondly? Only time would tell.

  He stared at the wall, wondering if she was on the other side, getting ready for the night. Of course, her room was much closer to the front of the house. If he’d been able to get the room on the other side of the wall from hers, he might have been able to make the magnet work from here, but then he also risked someone being able to get to it easily and disconnect it. The roof was safer.

  He wiped his hands on the edge of the sheet of newsprint his meal had come in when he was finished and wished he’d bought more. A full belly might make climbing more difficult, though. A church bell rang a couple of blocks over, alerting him that it was seven o’clock in the evening.

  “Might as well get started,” he said aloud, flattening the newsprint and unrolling his bundle. He set the jar and the magnet on the paper, then put the cloak to one side while he reviewed his task.

  Ten minutes later he crept down the hall, hearing sounds behind doors as families settled in for the evening. He pulled the rope hanging from the trapdoor at the end of the hall and reached for the steps, lowering them as quietly as possible. After one last glance to ensure no one was watching, he went up the steps and pulled them in behind him so the trapdoor closed.

  Now he was in a dark attic, holding his newsprint-wrapped bundle tightly against his chest. The window he wanted faced the back of the house. Walking carefully through the darkness, he found the window, located the latch by touch, and opened it. Rain hit his face immediately.

  He sighed. No one said rescuing childhood friends from brothels came easily. He tucked his equipment into his shirt, so that it rested securely against his belt and abdomen, then climbed onto the window sill, leaned out of the space and grasped the edge of the roof. Just above his head, he could easily lever himself up to the slates once he turned to face the house, though they were slippery.

  A moment later he found himself splayed over the vee in the roof on the edge of his stomach so he didn’t damage the Bunsen cell. He put his hand on the crown of his bowler hat and pushed it tightly on his head, hoping the rain would run off it onto the roof and not him. Then, clutching his shirt, he slid boot heels first, down the shallow slope to the gutter marking the part where Mrs. Teagarden’s establishment began.

  When he reached it, he chuckled. If not for the rain this would be a fun lark. On hands and knees, he crept forward to the front of the house, remaining low, though it was unlikely anyone could see a man dressed in black from the street. When he was almost to the edge, he pulled out the now damp newspaper and took off h
is gloves. He set the cell in front of him and uncoiled the copper wires so he could attach them to the cell at each end.

  With a prayer for success, he pulled his gloves back on when he’d attached the wires and climbed up the roof, then slithered to the back of the house and dangled his feet off the roof until he found the window sill with his boots. Two minutes later he was back in the attic, pouring water from the brim of his hat back out the window.

  He sloshed through the empty room and opened the trap door an inch. Hearing nothing, he crept down, pushed the ladder back up and went to his room.

  Inside, he did a little jig. Time to go to the club and remove Celeste. He was utterly soaked, but he’d say he walked through the rain without an umbrella.

  At eight p.m., Mrs. Teagarden welcomed him into the hallway. “You’re h’eager tonight, Master ‘owell.”

  “I have plans later this evening,” he said, hoping his measured tones did not betray the pounding of his heart, still active from the exertions on the roof.

  “You’ll catch your death like that.”

  “Forgot my umbrella,” he said. “Noah could float his ark down the street tonight.”

  “I ‘ope all my customers are as eager as you.” She gestured him to the stairs and he walked up behind him, his dripping clothes leaving puddles on the carpet. At Celeste’s door she rapped hard.

  “Liza!”

  Celeste opened the door, her expression bored. She was a good actress, Brace saw with approval. Her little sneer reminded him of the way her mouth had milked his cock and he hardened instantly. He didn’t think he’d ever look at her without becoming aroused.

  “I’ll bring you a towel,” Mrs. Teagarden said. “Make sure you wipe the floor when you’re done, Liza. I don’t want the boards getting warped.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Celeste said.

  Brace winced when he realized the getting of the towel would cause a delay and another chance for the proprietress to get a look at Celeste. As if hearing his thoughts, she put her hand to her throat, covering the clockwork mechanism. He realized that one look at her had caused all thoughts of the magnet to flee from his brain. Had it worked? He had no way to tell until time passed and he could see if the hands moved.

  Mrs. Teagarden pulled the key from her bodice and placed it in the clockwork. Celeste stood as still as a statue when the proprietress huffed. “Well, I’ll be, the bloody thing ain’t turning.”

  Brace’s fast heartbeats increased to something that a horse might experience in a race. Why hadn’t he realized he ought not to have engaged the magnet until after Mrs. Teagarden had gone? He should have left the magnet on the roof unengaged and climbed up to connect the wires during his hour.

  He heard the door knocker hitting the door downstairs. Mrs. Teagarden huffed again. “Well, sir, you are a regular so you know the rules. I’ll be back to get you in an hour.”

  “Very well,” he said, fisting his hands at his sides.

  Celeste blinked fast.

  “I’ll just get that towel,” the proprietress muttered and stomped down the hallway.

  Celeste turned sideways so he could enter her room.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know just how the magnet would work,” he muttered.

  “We can still do this,” she whispered. “She didn’t notice that the time was off by ten minutes. I think her vision is going.”

  A minute later, Mrs. Teagarden was handing in a graying towel and Celeste shut the door.

  “We’d better go quickly while she’s downstairs,” Celeste said, once the footsteps were gone away. “They still can’t find me, right? The alarm won’t go off.”

  “It’s not wound.” Brace wiped his clothes with the towel and threw it the corner.

  “Right. We are free of the alarm completely, since the clockwork daytime routine, which runs on a secondary set of hands in a corner of the medallion, was disabled by Mrs. Teagarden as usual before the door was unlocked for the start of the night.” Celeste clasped her hands in front of her, as if to pray.

  “We don’t have to worry about it,” Brace marveled.

  They heard voices downstairs. Celeste blinked but didn’t move.

  “We need to go before she realizes another girl has a broken medallion,” Brace said.

  “You’re right.” His words propelling her into motion, she opened the door, peering into the hall before gesturing him to come.

  They walked quickly to the end of the hall. Brace pulled the rope for the trapdoor and Celeste ran up the stairs. He could see a little light through the front window from the streetlamps. The rain must have slowed.

  “How do we get out?”

  “Through the window,” he said. “I’ll go up first, then reach down and pull you up.”

  Celeste nodded. Brace shook his head and pulled off his coat, then buttoned it around her, while Celeste fretted about wasting time. “I don’t want you to get hurt. That fabric could rip.”

  He opened the window and climbed out, then lay on the roof and wiggled his hands at her. It was evidence of her desperation that she didn’t hesitate to climb through the window and clasp his hands. In a moment he had her by the waist and they slid down the slope to the gutter between the two buildings.

  “We have to climb up now and repeat this in the other window.”

  Celeste pushed wet hair out of her eyes. “It’s a good thing I loved climbing trees as a child.”

  “I knew you could do this.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips. “You go first.”

  Her bare feet made it easier to climb up the slate tiles to the top of the roof, but he knew her knees would be sore after crawling back to the window, which thankfully he’d remembered to keep unlocked. The magnet could barely be seen at the far end of the roof, but he could smell it despite the rain. He left it there and wondered if any of Celeste’s fellow captives would try to escape that night.

  He went through first, but she didn’t need his help getting inside. Then he put a finger to his lips and they walked quietly to the trapdoor. When he opened it an inch to check, he saw a man in the hallway and put up his hand to alert Celeste. When the man entered his room, Brace pushed down the ladder and helped Celeste climb. They ran for his room, hand in hand, and were safely inside in a moment.

  “I hadn’t realized you wouldn’t have shoes.”

  “We aren’t allowed to keep clothes or anything in our room. I haven’t left that building since I entered it,” Celeste said, shivering. She twisted her hem, wringing out water.

  “The carriage should be downstairs by now,” he said, knowing this wasn’t the time to feel the emotions he certainly would when he truly considered the length of her captivity. “Can you give me my coat? I have a cloak for you. We need to cover your face and hair.”

  “And the medallion,” Celeste agreed, passing him his coat. “Oh, it’s dry,” she said happily when she wrapped the cloak around herself and pulled up the hood.

  “I have a parcel of food too, though it will be cold now.” Brace locked the door behind him. He’d send the key back through the post since it would be unwise to reappear on this street any time soon. Unfortunately, Mrs. Teagarden knew his real name, but hopefully she wouldn’t try to find him.

  They went down the stairs and saw a carriage waiting up the street. Brace recognized the driver as the man he hired and ushered Celeste out the door and down into the street, then back to the carriage. As it pulled away, he saw two men entering the club. The night’s business continued, and Mrs. Teagarden would certainly discover Celeste was missing at nine o’clock, but hopefully she’d be too busy to do anything about it until they were long gone.

  ~ * ~

  FOUR

  Jonathan’s eyes widened with excitement as he peered at the clockwork medallion on Celeste’s throat.

  “Ingenious,” he proclaimed, straightening up. “I’m very happy to have such an unusual item in my collection. No doubt almost as pleased as you will be to have it removed, Miss Flaherty.”

  �
��Quite.” Celeste curled her toes around the bars framing the leg of the stool Jonathan had offered.

  Their clothing was still damp, but Jonathan had stoked the fires in his work area and it was quite toasty as he set to work. Despite her ordeal, Celeste’s bright eyes had taken in the room with avid interest. Brace knew he’d found himself one amazing woman.

  His friend had set out a variety of cutting tools and a stack of soft cloths. “This is going to hurt, I’m afraid.”

  “Freeing me cannot hurt more than my initial imprisonment,” she assured him.

  Brace was amazed by how still she stood, how patient and stoic her expression was, as Jonathan slowly cut off the clockwork medallion. After about twenty minutes he had sawed away the surprisingly thick bars pierced through her throat and removed the chain. Only one of the spots had bled and Brace had been quick with the towel, keeping her skin dry so Jonathan could continue working.

  Jonathan placed the medallion on another towel. “Toss the bloody one into the fire, will you?”

  Brace complied, wishing he could do the same with the medallion itself.

  “I wonder if the magnet destroyed the mechanism completely,” Jonathan mused.

  “I would expect so. It needed to be rewound in the morning, but it always worked through the night.” Celeste fingered her throat, covering the holes left by the removal of the clockwork medallion.

  Without speaking, Jonathan pulled a tattered sheet off of what seemed to be a board leaning against the wall, but turned out to be a mirror.

  Celeste stepped toward it and stared at herself. After an audible sigh, she said, “At least it is gone, but there is no way to repair the damage.”

  Brace gestured to his friend’s worktable. He rubbed his fingers together, meaning money, then pointed to himself, hoping Jonathan understood. His friend nodded and moved to the space and started rummaging through wooden drawers. From one of them, he pulled a small cherry wood box and opened it. He made a small sound of satisfaction and returned to the mirror.