Combustion

by Berengaria Brown

  Glenn’s fingers were in her pussy now, his mouth on her clit, sucking, licking, nibbling at it. He scraped her G-spot and nipped her clit simultaneously. Xonra opened her mouth and gasped. It came out as a gargling sound, playing over Morgan’s cock, which was resting against the back of her throat.

  He gasped too, and a stream of cum poured into her mouth as she came around Glenn’s mouth and fingers. Hastily she let Morgan slide a little way out so she could swallow his essence, keeping her lips over her teeth so she didn’t hurt him.

  But God, it was so hard to do as her body was quivering and shaking with her own release.

  Xonra realized the fingers in her cunt were stroking raggedly now and knew that Glenn had come too. Gratefully she relaxed a little, sucking the last of Morgan’s seed then licking across his head as her body loosened and flopped flat on the mattress.

  The three untangled themselves and swiveled around to lay their heads on the pillows, the two men pressing against Xonra, their arms around each other, closing her between them.

  “I’ll get some coffee in a minute,” said Morgan, pulling the bedding up over them and snuggling his head onto Xonra’s shoulder.

  “Mmmm,” she murmured, already almost asleep.

  Glenn’s only response was a tiny snore.

  * * * * *

  After a huge breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, tomatoes, mushrooms and baby spinach, Xonra held her stomach and said, “I think we ought to walk to the village, use up some of those calories.”

  “No need. We’ll be walking miles and miles again once we get there,” said Glenn.

  “Besides, we burned up a lot of calories last night and will do so again tonight,” added Morgan.

  “I don’t know about you two, but I have to work tomorrow,” she argued.

  “I didn’t say it’d be a late night, just that it’d be an energetic one,” replied Morgan, pushing her gently toward their car.

  Knowing herself outvoted and guessing her legs and feet would be tired again by the end of the day, she gave up and climbed in.

  This time, once inside the historical precinct, they turned left instead of right, going to the village houses. Xonra was especially interested to see them, as these were the women HR Resources was having such difficulty in supplying. She wondered just how hard these women worked. Surely not as hard as the candle-dipping ladies. Although it was always possible they were paid more than minimum wage. She couldn’t imagine anyone doing that job for so little. Perhaps the new women would be baking the bread sold in the bakery, though. That seemed logical. Baking and laundry were two of the tasks mentioned, along with weaving and sewing.

  The first house, like some of the shops in Main Street, was not made to be entered. It was simply a static display, with rocking chairs on the porch, a neat flower garden out front and a carefully tended vegetable garden out back.

  “Beans, corn, tomatoes, carrots. Someone’s done a lot of hard work here,” said Glenn.

  “Hell, yes. I had to weed the garden as a kid. It’s an endless task and then the snails or cut-worms get the crops anyway,” said Morgan.

  The second house didn’t have a garden out back. Instead there was a huge copper boiling on a stand over an open fire and laundry poles and clotheslines with period costumes pegged out flapping in the sunshine. Several young women were using scrubbing boards to clean garments and another one was stirring the laundry in the copper with a long wooden pole. Yet more women were bent over tubs of water rinsing and bluing white aprons.

  Inside the house were several long trestle tables covered with blankets on which more women were ironing clothes. The irons were heated in the fire and at the final table visitors were allowed to feel the weight and heat of them and iron a garment.

  “I’ll never complain about ironing a shirt again,” said Xonra after pressing a man’s open-necked linen shirt. “That iron is so heavy it’d make my wrist ache in no time at all.”

  Glenn nodded. “There was no such thing as easy-care, permanent-press garments back then.”

  The next house was a totally different atmosphere. Spindles and shuttles flew and wheels whirred as the women weaved lengths of cloth and spun thread. By the window an older woman sat sewing tiny immaculate stitches into a baby’s garment. Xonra looked thoughtfully at the little dress. She’d seen a baby dress just like that in the drapery store and its price was astronomical. She hadn’t bothered to read the sign by it, but if the cloth was hand-woven, that would explain the price tag.

  As the threesome walked down the path to the final house, their noses told them it was indeed where the bread was baked. Sweating young women were pulling a heavy metal tray of hot bagels out of the stone oven as they arrived and a crowd was lined up waiting to buy them. On a metal rack, cooling, were several dozen loaves of bread. Morgan immediately joined the line and returned to them a few moments later with three hot bagels.

  “Yum. So good.” Morgan popped the last of his bagel in his mouth and rejoined the line but all the bagels had been sold and the women were already mixing the dough for the next batch.

  “I can see why they need more staff. They could easily sell twice as many,” Xonra commented as they left the house.

  “Absolutely. And lots of people would buy more to take home with them, I reckon,” added Morgan.

  They wandered back into the village then took a ride in a horse and carriage. “This place is really amazing. I’m so glad we came. I’ve gained a true appreciation for the past and our ancestors, as well as enjoyed it from a tourist viewpoint,” said Xonra.

  “So much more real than learning about it in school,” added Glenn.

  “Speaking of the school, let’s go back past the schoolroom. I think that was my favorite display,” said Morgan.

  The children were different, but it was the same teacher, and once again they chanted their times tables once a crowd had gathered.

  “I bet he gets bored teaching the same lesson every day,” said Glenn.

  “But how would that work? With different children every day they wouldn’t know what he expects. Plus it’s way too long a day for the little ones, eight in the morning until seven at night.”

  “Maybe they’re actors who do a couple half days a week or something.” Glenn shrugged, flipping some coins into the cap a boy held out as he walked through the crowd.

  Xonra had the distinct impression the child was going to say something, then he glanced over his shoulder at the teacher and kept moving through the crowd, collecting tips. Once again she had the feeling something was not right with this place, and once again she told herself she had an overactive imagination.

  “Time for lunch,” said Morgan, slipping his arm through hers and tapping Glenn on the shoulder. “Then we need to check the map and find out what we haven’t seen yet.”

  * * * * *

  After a week back at work Xonra had almost forgotten her mini-vacation at Berisford Village, until she read a memo from the CEO requesting her to attend a meeting with himself, various other vice presidents, Moss and Jeremiah J. Curlin.

  She phoned Moss. “What’s Mr. Curlin want this time?” she asked, tapping her candy-pink nails against her desk.

  “Damned if I know. Apparently he has some huge secret project he’s going to present to us and the CEO wants our input. All I know is it’s worth megabucks and we all have to provide Mr. Curlin with anything he wants.”

  “As long as it’s not more young women. I saw how hard they worked. It’s no wonder they’d rather do another job,” she said.

  “I’ve asked for feedback from all the ones who’ve quit and pretty much that’s what they all say. A long commute, long hours, lousy pay.”

  “Oh well, maybe it’ll be something completely different this time. But I wish I was going into this meeting better prepared. I hate surprises,” she said.

  Only an hour later Moss rang her. “Hey, Xonra. Are you available to come to my office, now, please? Chloe Thurston, who worked for a few we
eks at Berisford Village, is here with a companion and I’d like you to hear this.”

  “Yes, sure. Give me five minutes to wrap up what I’m doing, and I’ll be right there.”

  Moss, his PA Ellie, a young woman Xonra assumed was Chloe Thurston, and a boy, were waiting for her in Moss’ office. The boy looked sort of familiar, but different. Overly long, light brown hair, shaggy and in need of a trim, hazel eyes, straight nose, high cheekbones, thin build… Where do I know him from? Is he the son of one of my colleagues? Ah!

  “You work at Berisford Village. You’re the boy who collected the tips at the school the other day.”

  “Yes, we all work from the time we turn six. The five-year-olds have to work sometimes if one of the teams is a bit short, if kids are sick or something. Well, even the babies work in the Sound and Light Show, but they just get carried around so it’s not really work…”

  Xonra had to force her face not to show her surprise. Six-year-olds working? He must mean just now and then, a half day a week acting, like Glenn had suggested.

  Chloe tapped the boy’s shoulder gently. “Ernie, how about you start at the beginning and tell Ms. Gibson about whose son you are and where you live—lived—and why we’re here.”

  The child looked up at her trustingly and smiled. She smiled back at him, concern clearly written on her face.

  Xonra was feeling really confused about what was going on here, but knew she’d find out if she was patient, so settled into a chair and waited.

  The child sat up straight in his chair, pulled his shoulders back, lifted his chin, obviously bracing and readying himself to speak. Then he began.

  “My name is Ernest Billson and I’ll be twelve in July. When a boy turns twelve he’s sent away to work on the farm for a few years, but none of the boys has ever come back. The girls stay at school until they’re fourteen then they’re married to one of the men. Women go to the farm when they are in their mid-thirties, as soon as they start looking old, except for Old Mary who supervises all the women, but the men stay in the village until they can no longer work hard all day. So the men need a second wife to look after them.”

  Xonra’s eyebrows raised all by themselves. Without moving her head or neck she swiveled her eyes to Moss but he was still watching Ernie, his face expressionless. Ohh-kay.

  His gaze fixed straight in front of him, Ernie kept talking. “My dad is Bill—we’re all named for our fathers—and he hasn’t been happy since Mom was sent to the farm, but he hasn’t taken a new wife either. I know Mr. Curlin offered him Trudy because Trudy told Tilly, my sister. Anyway Trudy was married to Jake the blacksmith and she was really happy because she got new clothes and to stay on her wedding night in the big hotel and had wine to drink and everything. But she’s not so happy now and Tilly is almost fourteen and she thinks Mr. Curlin will marry her and she doesn’t like him. So I ran away to find Mom to beg her to take Tilly away to the farm.”

  Boys sent off to a farm to work at twelve? Girls married at fourteen? That wasn’t just medieval, it was also illegal. But Ernie looked so serious. And Chloe obviously believed him. Could he be making this up? Or was he telling the truth?

  “One of my jobs is delivering bags of flour and yeast and baking things, so I know Chloe and she gave me her cell phone number and I stole some of the tips and phoned her and she brought me here.” Ernie finished in a rush, his face flaming red when he confessed to taking the coins. But a stubbornly defiant look was on his face and Xonra guessed he might be embarrassed but he certainly wasn’t repentant. He’d made a choice and was convinced he’d done the right thing.

  Ellie quietly walked over to the sideboard, poured a glass of ice water and handed it to Ernie. He gulped the drink and handed the glass back to Ellie.

  Xonra flashed a quick glance at Moss. His normally friendly, mobile face had gone harder than stone.

  “Tell them where you live and about the work teams,” prompted Chloe.

  “We live in the mine. The married people have their own rooms. The babies live with their moms and the little kids are in the nursery but the older boys have a dormitory and so do the older girls. Tilly and I talk to each other every day. She still sees Trudy a lot too, even though Trudy’s married now and works in the nursery instead of being on a team.”

  Live in the mine? Is that what I saw with the men and the boy?

  “Kids over six are divided into three teams. Each team does a different job each day. So there’s morning school, afternoon school, other jobs in the village like being a pawn on the chessboard or a kid in the Sound and Light Show, or a delivery boy like me.”

  “So all the older boys go to work on the farm and all the girls get married?” asked Xonra, forcing her voice to sound neutral, not as enraged as she was becoming. She’d thought something weird was going on, but child slavery? Underage marriages?

  “Yes. Some of the boys who are bad in school are sent away earlier. And there’s more men needing wives than there are girls old enough to marry. Dad said Jake was thrilled to get Trudy because he thought he’d have to wait until Tilly was old enough to marry. Dad also said they’d thought some of the other women like Chloe would marry the men but that plan hadn’t worked out yet.”

  Xonra phrased her next question very carefully, not wanting to sound judgmental. “Your dad is happy for Tilly to be married at fourteen?”

  “Girls always married young in the old days. Mr. Curlin said waiting until your twenties to get married is the main cause of immorality and promiscuity. It’s a great honor for Tilly to be married to Mr. Curlin. But she doesn’t like him and Anne does cry an awful lot and he still has his first wife to look after him as well,” answered Ernie.

  “Anne?” asked Moss.

  “Anne Timothydaughter. She’s a couple of years older than Trudy and was married to Mr. Curlin on her fourteenth birthday. She had her second baby three months ago and cries every time someone tells her to leave the nursery and go back to her room with Mr. Curlin. Of course he’s not there much. Mostly he’s with his first wife. That’s why Trudy and Tilly are sure he’s going to make Tilly his next wife. He does look at her real strange.”

  Moss cleared his throat and Xonra quickly asked Chloe some practical questions. Ernie explained more about their living quarters in a different section of the mine, and Xonra again remembered the boy being taken behind a wooden door.

  “This is way beyond anything we can deal with. Way beyond my wildest imaginings. We need to talk to the police, Child Protection, likely a whole bunch of other agencies as well. What will happen when they discover you’re missing, Ernie?”

  “At first everyone will think someone else has given me a job to do. But tomorrow morning Timothy, Anne’s father, he’s our teacher, will ask where I am. I didn’t say anything to anyone so no one can dob me in.”

  “This needs to be handled very carefully, or Jeremiah J. Curlin will sue our pants off.” Xonra sighed and picked up Moss’ phone. “Hi Jo, I need to speak the CEO immediately. No, it absolutely can’t wait. Thanks, I’m on my way up.”

  Xonra smiled at Chloe and Ernie, then turned to Ellie, who was standing by the wall, looking pale and shocked. “Ellie, how about you take Chloe and Ernie to the lunchroom and get them something to eat and drink. I’ll meet you down there as soon as I can. Moss, maybe you’d better come with me, this might get messy.”

  “Messy indeed,” murmured Moss very quietly.

  Chapter Five

  Xonra was supposed to be meeting Glenn and Morgan for dinner at Sally’s Place, a restaurant she particularly liked, but she was too on edge about everything going on to face people, so rang Glenn to cancel.

  “I’m sorry, Glenn, but there’s just too much happening at work. I’m not good company right now.”

  “Would you rather do something else? We’re happy to go with the flow,” suggested Glenn.

  “It’s nothing about you or Morgan. It’s just my job. Way too complicated to talk about, but it’s consuming all my emotional resourc
es right now.”

  “Would you like to talk about it? We’re pretty good listeners.”

  “It’s confidential and not my story to tell.” But she was torn. It would be good to unload some of the worry. Besides, she did trust them. They were both quick thinkers, intelligent men, and instinctively she knew they wouldn’t spread her story around.

  Glenn must have sensed her wavering because he said, “We’ll come over to your place at seven with food. If you don’t want to let us in, that’s your choice, but you don’t have to decide right now. Pizza or Chinese?”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you want us to bring pizza or Chinese food with us?”

  “How about sushi?”

  “Oh yum, why didn’t I think of that myself? See you at seven.”

  Xonra sat at her desk in mind in turmoil, roiling back and forth over the issues, the child, the situation, Jeremiah J. Curlin… Well, shit! If I had a live-in lover, I bet I would tell him, and these men are my partners, so there!

  My partners? Yes, they are. It’s not just sex, it’s a relationship. Well, the beginnings of one anyway.

  * * * * *

  Xonra got involved in a project at work and it was after six when she looked up from her computer and noticed the time. Hastily she logged off, raced home, had a quick shower and changed into jeans, hardly having time to draw breath before the doorbell rang and Morgan and Glenn had arrived.

  The sushi smelled wonderful and they’d also brought sodas, salads and a chocolate-chip cupcake just for her. “To make you feel better,” said Morgan, kissing her nose.

  Xonra was touched. They really were genuinely nice, caring guys, likely nicer than she deserved.

  She set plates and glasses on her dining table, and as they sat eating and talking, Xonra sensed the men deliberately keeping the conversation light and positive. Once again she was struck by how sweet and thoughtful they were. Not once had they asked her about work or her troubles, simply offering her their presence as a gift, laughing and joking, making her feel loved.