Page 23 of Blowing Off Steam

Calliope found her voice. “Yes, it was I who belted Wang Ho or whatever his name was with that hookah thingamajig—remember, Field? Or you were probably too busy dropping that safe on Kwok Lee’s head.”

Field stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Why, yes. Now that you mention it. Me and Rushy here were too busy, ah—”

“Yes, I saw her,” Rushy claimed. “She tore right over and knocked that potato-head into the middle of next week with that opium pipe.”

“Whatever,” said Tobias. “You don’t need to give me the details. The important thing is, you’ve got quite the rep now, at least on paper, and that’s good enough to give you credibility in the, shall we say, world of business. So I’ve just come back from a meeting with an even bigger frog. Your rep preceded you, and Mr. Haight had already heard your names through the word on the street. He’s got a vast empire of agents working for him, but he needs your particular skills, as well as your steamer, to get the stuff upriver where it’s urgently needed by ricemen”—Tobias swiveled toward Calliope with a knowing glance—“as well as the ever-increasing female population of Sacramento to soothe them from their well-known various female ailments.”

Calliope elbowed Field. “See? I told you. Female problems. That’s what I’ve always used it for.”

Rushy protested, “But we don’t have the particular skills attributed to us, Tobias! The jig is up. We just went in there blind, and they would’ve run all over us like fire in dry grass if a few…accidents hadn’t’ve happened.”

Tobias pointed. “But you’ve got the steamer.”

Rushy had to admit, “Yes. We’ve got the steamer.”

Tobias threw up his hands. “That’s all you need!”

“But what about the ricemen who are bound to be irate with us for doing in Kwok Lee and his associate?” Field inquired. “They weren’t just two isolated loco potato-heads. They’re bound to have associates of their own.”

“Mr. Haight will take care of their associates,” Tobias stated. “All you have to do is steam this packet up- and downriver and let the shekels flow in. By the way, it’s probably best if you keep it in a safe of your own. Where is it now?”

Field shrugged. “In my stateroom. In the bowls it came in.”

“OK. Lock it inside a safe, inside your locked stateroom. Now, gentlemen. We have an important meeting tomorrow morning in town with Mr. Haight, so I’d suggest you get some sleep.” He looked sternly at Calliope. “And I mean sleep, young lady.”

Calliope slumped her shoulders and looked obediently at the ground. “Yes, Mr. Smith.” Looking up, she shared an amused glance with Tobias. “I promise to be good.”

“I’ll be watching you.” Tobias had a twinkle in his eye as he straightened out his embroidered waistcoat. He paused at the door of the humid engine room. “Oh, and that Celestial baby you stole? His rightful parents came to collect him from those Mormons. He had somehow wandered into Kwok Lee’s or was taken for whatever nefarious purpose.” He shaped his hand into a pistol and pulled the trigger at them. “Good job.”

When Tobias vanished, all three opium smugglers breathed relieved sighs.

Calliope cried, “Now we’re baby thieves to boot? Oh, my. I wanted a different career, but this is a joke.”

Field chuckled, but already he was heading to a locker where he kept his fancy captain’s frock coat and, apparently, a bottle of whiskey. “Calliope, we won’t have time to sample that o-fuyung, so just take it back to your stateroom. I think we deserve a sample after all our hard work murdering and thieving. We can try it in the morning. But here.” He poured her a cup of whiskey.

She obligingly drank it down while he took a watch out of Rushy’s breast pocket. It was charming how affectionate and comfortable the two men were with each other, though she knew they’d only been acquainted a few weeks.

“It’s past midnight,” Field stated. “Let me just adjust the beam and we can go up.”

Field did some awfully manly stuff with valves, and they took off up the inner staircases that led to the hurricane deck, where their staterooms were located inside the texas structure. Inside the gallery was the central saloon lined with staterooms for the top crew and the high muckety-mucks. Since they were moored and it was past midnight, only the bartender and a few captains of industry lounged here. Calliope walked with head high and could have staked her affidavit that all heads swiveled to view them with a newfound respect.

They stopped at her stateroom, and Calliope fished her room key from her pocket. “Will you let me come with you tomorrow to the meeting with Mr. Haight? Seeing as how, you know, I’ve already conked a Celestial outlaw with an opium pipe and am invaluable to you.”

Field stood so close his body heat imbued her face and shoulders, and she leaned back against the door so her uplifted breasts could not be ignored. She’d always loved this power she had over men. Men were so silly, really. They went all to pieces at the sight of a woman’s swollen titties bursting from her bodice. It had been even easier to manipulate men a couple years ago when women were so scarce as to be mythical. But more women had arrived in California since then, and soon Calliope would no longer be a youthful belle.

She must use her talents while they lasted, so now she clasped her hands behind her back and thrust out her chest. Both men instantly became blithering imbeciles, their eyes going glassy. She touched her thumb to Rushy’s slack lower lip. “You need punishing, Rushy, for mauling me without my consent. Although I did enjoy nursing your long…thick…penis, I don’t want you thinking you can just do it any time you get an urge.”

Field stepped even closer, nearly on the toe of her slipper. “He will not be punished!” he snarled. Grabbing her wrist, he jerked her hand from Rushy’s mouth. “You don’t know this fellow, Calliope. Punishing him would only really be a reward. He’s a lady-killer, a—”

“A deviant sodomite,” Rushy finished for him. Grinning sleepily, he grasped Calliope’s bare shoulders and bent at the knees, as though about to lift her with his pelvis and impale her against the stateroom door.

Calliope stopped him dead in his tracks by saying, “You’re right, Field.” She suddenly dipped and ducked beneath Rushy’s elbow, going around his back to grab both his wrists. She held his hands tight at the small of his back and peeked around his arm. “His punishment will be that for once, you get the opportunity to fondle him.”

A smile grew on Field’s face. “Ah.” Taking Rushy’s jawbone in his hands, he turned him to the door so that Rushy’s ass was pressed enticingly against Calliope’s lap. The dome of each muscular haunch pressed so alluringly, Calliope spread her thighs to cinch one ankle around the top of Rushy’s boot, further immobilizing him. Calliope knew her carnal appetite had returned for good when a trickle of cunt juice ran down her inner thigh, stopped only by the Arkansas toothpick pinioned inside her garter. “I like the way you think, Miss Calliope.”

“Kiss him, Field,” Calliope commanded. “Kiss him hard and sloppy, the way you like it. I like watching you two kiss.”

Taking Rushy’s head in his hands, Field planted an openmouthed, lusty kiss on the pilot. Rushy squirmed with agitation, and his brawny haunches wiggled so lewdly the petals of Calliope’s labia were mashed together.