“Yes,” Liberty agreed. “But it would be so much more fun if we could find a way for all of us to participate.”
Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed that Levi leveled her with a warm, knowing glance then. His fingers were on the edge of the basket. “See this rim? I wonder what would happen if we all put our fingertips along the rim. There have been many stories of spirits being able to affect physical objects, during séances, for example. Floating trumpets playing. Objects being flung across the room.” He shrugged. “It would make sense if the spirit—Paddy—was able to guide our hands to spell out the correct words.”
“Have you been able to figure out who Paddy is?” Liberty asked. “Or was, I should say.”
Garrett answered from the other side of the room, where he stood perusing some papers on another desk. “He’s obviously some Irish fellow, and he knows this area. He has a definite perverse interest in the circus. He’s constantly making circus references or going on and on about somersaults, leaps, pigeons, and—Ho, now, what’s this?” His fingers stilled on a paper he’d discovered.
Liberty went over to the desk and stood so close to Garrett she could feel the heat from his arm against hers.
He said, “Your father has an interesting collection of Eastern lithographs.”
“Well, no, this desk is mostly used by Captain Park, a friend of my sister’s. He’s been translating some Arabic texts—oh, my.”
Garrett had been interested in a colorful though childish lithograph of a Persian man and woman reposing on an outdoor patio. There was a fountain, some fruit trees, and an awning shaded the couple. The woman, dressed to the nines in many necklaces, an armband, and hair ornaments, kneeled on a rug. The man, however, was mostly naked aside from a head cloth and was penetrating her from behind with a very erect—and bald—member.
When Levi came to stand next to her, being enfolded like that between the two men’s bodies nearly overwhelmed Liberty. She didn’t know if they had mentioned to each other that they had both, separately, kissed her. But it was incredibly arousing and bawdy to stand between the two men she desired the most, looking at a depiction of intercourse.
When Levi spoke, she could feel his breath against her neck. “That fellow is really in an impossible position.”
“It could work,” Garrett protested, his eyes already on another page, one of Captain Park’s manuscript translations.
To join in with their boldness, Liberty noted, “The woman seems bald, too, as though she was shaved. I wonder if that’s a custom back—back wherever this is taking place.”
“India.” Levi had to stand even closer to her to pick up a title page. He had evidently bathed since their encounter at the schoolhouse, as he again smelled of hay and musk. Her nipples stiffened almost painfully against her chemise to be between two such heated male bodies. “The Pleasure of Woman.”
“Now I see,” said Liberty, “why my sister is so infatuated with Captain Park.”
“My, my,” said Garrett. “He has been up to the devil’s work. Look at this, Levi. I shouldn’t read it aloud in front of a woman.”
“Oh, give me that!” Liberty snapped, whisking it from Garrett’s fingers. Where did these men think she was from—Hyde Park, New York? She was a modern, forward-thinking woman, a woman who had attended a convention dedicated to the advancement of women in jobs, voting, and family limitation. She would show these jokers she wasn’t embarrassed. So she read Captain Park’s handwriting aloud. “‘Harichand went to each girl and pressed her breasts and put his hand between her legs and rubbed it a little to see if she was clean, properly shaved, and washed.’” She sighed deeply and looked at a far wall, as though contemplating the intellectual profundity of the text. But really, it was just quite stimulating to be reading bawdy text when flanked by two such lusty men.
Garrett’s breath feathered her neck, and his hand lightly hovered over the small of her back. “That answers your question about the shaving.”
When Liberty turned her head, their noses almost touched. “Would you like that?” she dared to ask. “I mean, if a woman were shaved?”
As expected, there was a stillness in the room then, as though both men were shocked. But Levi quickly answered softly, “It would be different, yes.”
Perhaps trying to change the subject, Garrett pointed to another page. “Look. Here’s a whole instruction manual.” Of course, at that, the other two turned their eyes to the page. “It seems as though some teacher is telling this fellow he needs to take an entire month just to…” He read, “‘The man should gently graze the left foot of the woman with such care and devotion that the woman would climax without him even touching her most intimate parts.’” He looked at his companions. “Is such a thing possible?”
“I doubt it,” said Liberty, leaning closer to Garrett to read the manuscript. Her bosom skimmed his arm, and she wondered if he could feel the nub of her nipple extending with desire. “How is that possible? Just from touching her foot?”
“Well,” said Levi, low and quiet. “You tell us. Is it possible?”
“I doubt it,” Liberty said, trying to be flippant. How would she know? She had never climaxed. But she didn’t want to appear uneducated in front of two men—men were always more educated in matters of sex—so she distracted them by reading, “‘On the fourth of the month, he should concentrate on her neck. He should rub the base of her neck and kiss her profusely without letting her touch him until she is certain to reach ecstasy.’”
She was shocked to the core to feel Levi’s fingers on her neck. She had piled her long curls up into a mounded bun, and her neck was bare. “Like this?” he said quietly.
“Ah,” she gasped, without meaning to.
His thumb circled her vertebrae lightly, and yes, indeed, her pussy lips expanded, filling with blood and longing. But that was probably because she was standing between two such alluring men.
Levi said, “Does that mean ‘yes’?”
Her eyelids fluttered, and she wobbled a bit on her feet. Luckily she leaned against Garrett’s strong arm, and Levi’s thigh against hers propped her up. “Yes,” she whispered.
“And kiss her profusely,” Levi murmured. With his other hand he tilted her chin toward him. Her eyelids drooped so with lust she could barely make out his glittering, dazzling eyes before he kissed her.
It was a chaste kiss. His wet lips parted, but he didn’t even attempt to sneak his tongue into her mouth. When Liberty eagerly tried to nibble at his luscious lower lip, he pulled back a fraction of an inch and murmured, “Garrett, read the next part.” Liberty tried to grasp Levi’s shirtfront and pull him even closer, but he uncurled her fingers and held them at her side.
Garrett’s voice also came so close to her she felt his breath on her neck. “‘He should massage her right armpit with his nails until she completes the pinnacle of desire.’”
Levi was now kissing the underside of her jaw, again chastely without licking her. “Do it, Garrett,” he said so quietly Liberty was certain Garrett couldn’t hear.
But he evidently had, as Garrett’s long, hot fingers snaked up her rib cage. She assisted him by lifting an arm. Levi allowed her to drape it over his shoulder as Garrett’s fingertips sought the sensitive skin of her underarm. She was wearing one of her light and airy “artistic” white gowns that were supposed to free women from the bondage of undergarments, and Garrett’s nails so close to her tingling nipple were making her inhalations come in ragged pants.
She tried to protest. “I doubt very much this would make anyone—Ah!”
Levi pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat while gently massaging the vertebrae of her neck. Her head lolled back, and she rolled it back and forth, the better to feel his knuckles rotating there. It felt as though his fingers released a flow of acid down her spine, painful and sensual at the same time.
Unfairly, Garrett pressed his erection to her rear, cushioned in her petticoat and gauzy skirt. That wasn’t in the book as far as Li
berty knew, and she couldn’t tell if Levi noticed. But it was certainly effective. Her knees weakened, the pulpy petals of her sex expanded, and a drip of juice ran down her inner thigh. She was being enveloped in a warm, comforting cocoon, mashed between two such utterly desirable men.
Levi’s musky hay scent mingled with Garrett’s fresh animal sweat. Garrett’s long donkey’s penis prodded at the mound of her ass as she allowed her head to loll loosely against his rigid chest. Levi slipped his free hand around the small of her back as he hunched into her, now pressing his hips to hers as he kissed her jaw. She was smashed between two enormous erections now, the column of Levi’s cock slowly, tantalizingly rubbing against her pubic mound. Meanwhile, Garrett’s fingernails scraped forward bit by bit until he caressed the outer rise of her breast, and his breathing came faster.
Liberty felt the familiar surges of blood into her pelvis. She often felt this when playing with her toy. It always felt as though something was building up, flooding her pelvis with a torrent of lust. It was probably the crescendo of this deluge that would signal the feared paroxysm—the climax that would either kill or transform one.
In her ear, Garrett recited, “‘The vulva possesses an intrinsic heat, shut in a solid heart and pent-up breast. Its fire communicates itself to him that enters it. It equals in intensity the fire of love.’”
Lifting a foot to jam it into Levi’s boot top, Liberty was able to get a better angle on his cock’s rubbing against her clitoris. She eagerly pumped her hips in tiny, jerky motions, the better to frantically rub against his hard pole.
But Levi removed his mouth from her jaw, whispering, “That part isn’t in the book…yet.”
“No, Levi!” Liberty was shocked to hear herself wail to the ceiling. “Don’t stop! Garrett! What does it say next?”
But she would not get to hear what happened next—not tonight, anyway.
The front door of Vancouver House slammed shut then, bringing with it a breeze that rattled the papers on the desk.
“Liberty! I’m home!”
Chapter Eight
The trio froze when that lunkhead Zeke stormed into the house.
Liberty was the first to recover, clutching her bodice to her and squirming out from between the two men. Breathing heavily, they rearranged their faces and their crotches, their backs to the study door where Zeke would soon be barging in.
“That damned muttonhead,” Garrett groused from between clenched teeth, cinching his cock up underneath his gun belt. “Seems he’s always got the absolute worst timing.”
For it was the same fellow who, not several hours earlier, had interrupted their sojourn at the schoolhouse with a story about some fire at the Cactus Club. Apparently there was ground beef all over the floor that only Liberty was capable of cleaning up.
Garrett had been aware that Levi and Liberty had been canoodling inside the schoolhouse. That was his intention. Once he had realized that the woman he’d been kissing so fervently he had practically penetrated her upside the schoolhouse wall was the woman meant for Levi, he was glad to hand her over to his partner. There was power in this prophecy business, and when Paddy had dictated that the new agent would be in love with a Miss Hudson, Garrett knew he had to step aside.
Now this.
He had honestly just stumbled upon the pornographic Indian lithographs. He had no plans to continue to regale Liberty with indecent recitations. It was Levi, who he suspected of being a libidinous satyr, who had made the first motion to follow the instruction manual. Levi had first rubbed Liberty’s neck and kissed her while standing a few feet away from Garrett and had encouraged Garrett to participate. Since Garrett had already imagined he had to give up the idea of wooing Liberty completely, of course he was glad to cooperate.
And it somehow felt right, pressing the woman between them. She certainly hadn’t resisted, not even when Garrett’s fingers had strayed from her underarm to the softly sloping rise of her breast. She had wiggled her bottom against his erection, and Garrett was even more stimulated when he felt Levi humping her from the other side. Each lunge of Levi’s hips caused Liberty’s ass to brush more forcefully against Garrett’s own erection.
It excited Garrett to think he could have easily reached just a little bit farther and placed a hand on Levi’s hip, to encourage him to hump the stunning Miss Hudson. The sensation of allowing another man to witness his most private sexual doings and urges somehow stimulated Garrett. Like being one of those people who sought gratification by opening their greatcoat in a public square. In fact, it stimulated him so intensely he now had even more trouble than usual getting his stiff cock to obey and stay under the gun belt.
“Yes,” grumbled Levi, stuffing his own prick up against his abdomen. “That potato-head seems to have a compass embedded in his brain. He can tell whenever anyone is getting randy and tears over to ruin it.”
“Who is he, anyway?”
Levi shrugged. “He’s some sort of adjutant for Simon Hudson and the railroad. But as far as I can tell, he’s an utter blockhead. Zeke, my man.”
Levi greeted the clerk, who stood in the doorway gazing at their erections with a puzzled yet airy expression. “Liberty!” Zeke gestured as though a magician whose fingers would emit cosmic rays. “Just wanted to see if you wanted to attend the fandango at the Frontier Hotel, but I can see you’ve already got company.” He wandered casually to the sideboard, where he poured himself an overlarge glass of whiskey. “And to tell you that Jack Hammer is recovering all right from being set on fire.”
Liberty seemed very calm and collected for a woman who had almost been discovered canoodling with not one but two men. Although she did take an atlas and place it over the compromising Indian lithographs. “Well, he never would’ve gone up in such flames if Rusty Pipes hadn’t of poured kerosene on him. We should replace that Rusty. He’s always pouring something on someone.”
“Yeah,” Zeke agreed heartily. “He’s always spilling something!” He gestured with the whiskey carafe, sloshing the bookshelf with it.
“Zeke, my man,” said Levi with authority as he came forward with the woven planchette. “Have you seen this before? Maybe you could tell us what it is.”
Zeke’s face lit up with excitement as he grabbed the planchette from Levi. “Yes! This goes to the talking board! I haven’t seen that thing in ages.”
“It’s right here,” said Garrett, and Zeke zipped over to Hudson’s desk with zeal.
“Yes, there it is!” Zeke said fondly. “Carpe diem! Although I don’t know why they’re mentioning a fish on a talking board.”
Garrett laughed, but Levi was more diplomatic. “Zeke, do you know how to use this thing? What’s the purpose of it?”
Zeke waxed long-winded. “Well, you see. The spirits, as far as Mr. Hudson explains it, are capable of talking through us, of expressing themselves.”
“From beyond the grave,” Levi prompted.
“Yes, that’s it! From beyond the veil, they can reach out and touch our hearts with their innermost feelings. My own dearly departed mother reached out once and told me she was happy in the afterlife—”
Garrett wasn’t so diplomatic. “And how do you work the board?”
“Oh—that’s simple! You merely get a group, although I suppose you could do it with two people, sit around, and place your fingers on this planchette. The spirits move your hands to the correct letters, and soon it spells something out.”
Liberty clung to Garrett’s arm, her eyes shining with passion. “Let’s try it.”
“Yes,” Garrett agreed. “Maybe your mother will guide our hands, Zeke.”
Items were soon gathered, and the table in the dining room was cleared of all objects, save for the board, candles, and a pencil and blank paper. The table was too long for them all to reach the planchette, so Liberty and Zeke sat at one side and Garrett and Levi around the corner from them.
“You don’t have to hold hands,” Zeke assured them.
“That would be pretty har
d to do,” Garrett started to point out. “If our hands are on the planchette, how can we—” But Levi’s kick under the table shut him up.
Liberty sipped her sarsaparilla. “What question are we asking?”
Zeke said, “I want to find out if my mother is still with that greengrocer in the afterlife!” He heatedly gulped his own whiskey.
Levi said calmly, “Why don’t we ask something that will interest all of us? For example, the whereabouts of Shady Barnhart.”
“Yes!” cried Zeke. “I was wondering where that worthless jackass had gotten to, myself. One day he’s selling me a bunch of necklace beads wrapped in a skunk skin for four dollars, I mean just absolute extortion, and the next day he’s gone.”
Liberty’s mouth was a thin line. “Zeke, he was supposed to give those things to the Indians. For free.”
Zeke chuckled. “Ah, well! It’s just a bunch of…I mean…” Only his eyeballs moved, glancing from Levi to Garrett and back to Levi. “You know…Indians…”
Liberty sighed with exasperation. “Besides, what do you want necklace beads for, anyway?”
Zeke explained, “But it was such a good deal!”
“All right,” said Levi. “Our question is, where is Shady Barnhart?”
Everyone agreed they would pose this question, and they placed their fingers on the woven rim of the upside-down basket. They took it lightly at first, laughing and joking.
It was actually Zeke who reprimanded them. “This is serious business, people. I’ve been witnessing some pretty important happenings here in town lately. I tell you, the psychic vibrations around Laramie are at their highest right now. Don’t laugh.”
Garrett actually wasn’t laughing. He’d witnessed enough psychic vibrations lately to convince him of the truth in all of this supernatural stuff. He just felt self-conscious putting his fingers on a basket and looming over a board that talked about a fish.
Disorder in the House [How the West Was Done 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 7
