Page 22 of Blowing Off Steam

With a look both infuriated and overwhelmed by lust, Field obstinately greased the upper slope of Calliope’s breast. He now humped her bare shoulder as he fingered the titty out of its silken casing, and the two men jiggled her jutting breasts as they grunted like idiotic barnyard animals. Field had that heavy-lidded look again, and he bent a few inches and trapped Rushy’s lips between his own. When Field snaked his free hand down Rushy’s pelvic mound to grip the tight, full ball sac in his hot palm, Rushy lost all control.

An overpowering erotic tingling surged down his spine, radiating gooseflesh over the mounds of his ass and through his balls. His cock head erupted inside Calliope’s eagerly suctioning mouth, spurt after spurt of raw jism exploding up the length of his prick. When he heard Calliope truly choking on the immense load, he pulled back and jerked the last few blobs of semen between her greasy breasts. Field and Rushy both smashed her breasts together to capture his shuddering cock as she caught her breath. She licked her lips, and her eyes shone with admiration and arousal as she avidly watched Rushy’s cock head continue to spurt unctuous globs as he fucked her jiggling bosom.

“Damnation,” Field muttered as he nipped Rushy’s earlobe, still massaging his supple balls almost lovingly, as though they were his own. “I was right. You are one obscene, nasty libertine.” He chuckled. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Whew!” Calliope exclaimed, breaking the trance. Rushy regarded her with fresh eyes of appreciation, her hair all tousled, her shiny chest heaving with her panting. She wiggled her eyebrows up at them and said, “Get your penis out of my bosom, or I’ll play ‘The Anvil Chorus’ on your head!”

There was a stunned silence quickly broken by uproarious laughter. Rushy staggered backward, his cock bobbing in lagging tumescence as Field said, “She’d make a good salty bartender, don’t you think?”

Calliope snapped, “I’ve got my hands full with cooking. And playing more sorts of organs than I could possibly handle! Get me out of these ropes and into a good shot of whiskey.”

Sweat dripping down their torsos, both men clumsily started untying the poor abused chef. She said, more kindly now, “I brought you some of that opium from Kwok Lee’s. Don’t you think we should try it out first, see if it’s really that good? I mean, after all we went through to get it.”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Field. “I’ve never tried opium.”

Rushy was amused. “You haven’t? Why, you miserable old critter. Opium is the ‘just, subtle, and all-conquering’ drug. Only I’ve never smoked it, just eaten it in pill form.”

“Opium?” An enquiring voice came from the engine room doorway. “Yes, that’s what I’m here to discuss. You sons of a seadog!”

Rushy, the reata dangling in his hands, turned to face Tobias’s silhouette. Tobias, perhaps not noticing Calliope’s disheveled form in the dim lamplight, stepped confidently into the filthy room, rubbing his hands together with fiscal glee.

Tobias continued happily, “You old haymaking sons of bitches! The word on the street trickled down to old Attorney Fosburgh’s ears. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! You actually conked that twisted deviant riceman on the head with a safe? Why, when I heard that, I thought to myself ‘Tobias, you sly attorney. You chose the right men for this job.’” His gleaming eyes finally lit on Calliope, who was standing and stretching out her achy arms while trying to stuff her titties back into her bodice.

Tobias’s expression darkened then. “Hey now. Who said you could punish my student? She’s my student, you flat-headed dolts!”

CHAPTER NINE

Calliope bristled at the attorney’s claims.

Now that her breasts were safely stowed away beneath the corset, she confidently stepped up to the slimy lawyer and cried, “I am not your student, you wallpapered blowhard! My name is Calliope Cavendish”—for that was the elegant surname she had recently chosen for herself—“and I am the chef of the famous El Dorado steamer.” She sniffed and looked down her nose at Tobias. “Go get your Spanish fly elsewhere.”

She was grateful when Field stepped forward, too, even putting a protective arm about her shoulders. “She’s right, Tobias. If we’re to continue doing business together, you’d best stop making ridiculous claims about her alleged former life.” Field looked down at her with an expression that could only be called fond, and Calliope’s heart swelled. “Fact, I’m rather sweet on her, so I don’t appreciate anyone else making uncalled-for remarks.”

Calliope’s chest ached with pride and a vaguely remembered emotion she couldn’t quite get a grip on. Tears welled into her eyes unbidden, but she knew if she squeezed her eyes shut, a tear would roll down at least one cheek. “Sweet on her”? Had she really heard correctly? Not even her former husband Levi had ever gotten so downright flowery or romantic with her. Recently she had found herself dreaming beyond any hope that Field would make such a statement, but she had to keep chastising herself that it could never happen.

Thomas Field Trueworthy, she was beginning to suspect, was the most upright, alluring, intelligent, and capable man she had ever met. He was fit as a fiddle and it was a stimulating thrill to watch him working the gleaming engine valves, particularly when he forgot to wear a shirt. When he strode through the dining room in his frock coat with the epaulets, his silky cravat all done up like a confectioner’s wonder beneath his powerful throat, Calliope’s knees turned into water, and she sometimes fumbled in presenting dishes to the big bugs that had staterooms in the texas. Now, to hear him say he was sweet on her made all else in the engine room fade out, and their eyes locked upon each other.

Rushy might have been saying something like, “Sure as shooting, Tobias. Miss Calliope was mighty helpful in our encounter with Kwok Lee. She’s got horse sense and knows the workings of people’s minds.”

Calliope’s eyes flickered over Rushy’s rugged, sun-browned face. Captain Rushy Wakeman inflamed her in a slightly different manner. She was attracted to his bold, straightforward mode of living. That he was obviously from the Alabama hill country, near her own Appalachian origin, made her feel close to him. And certainly watching his luscious, expert mouth gulping down mouthfuls of Field’s gushing semen roused her to heights she’d never believed possible. Was she stimulated merely because they were the two most muscular and clean-limbed men she had ever seen? No, watching them molest and work each other over with such abandon excited her because she understood their passion was born of their powerful feelings for each other.

And she wanted to be a part of it.

However, Rushy was the naughty one who should be punished. For the first time since the Utah Territory, Calliope had been intensely fired up by his experienced pawing of her just now. She had never been bound and groped by anyone who wasn’t paying her. To be bound and have her breasts massaged by two such virile men, well, this was a new and exciting thing. Sucking on Rushy’s delicious horse’s cock, swallowing his jism, then watching him spurt between her breasts while Field fondled his balls made her pussy juices flow so suddenly she was sitting in a mushy puddle. She was glad she wasn’t completely deadened sexually, as she’d feared, but she would have to make Rushy and Field pay for being such devils and bringing her back to life.

Rushy continued, “She helped us drop those ricemen, sure as shooting. Her help was invaluable, Tobias, especially when it came to Kwok Lee.”

“O-ho!” cried Tobias, having thankfully forgotten about how badly he wanted to spank her. “So pretty Miss—Miss whoever here, which part did she play? Did she help crush Mr. Lee like a bug by dropping that safe on him from two stories up, or did she bash old Wang Tao over the head with that hookah?” Tobias chuckled with admiration. “Boy, was that old Wang Tao ever loco. You don’t know what a favor you did to the Celestial community by dropping him in his tracks. A menace to society. They should have paid you for the favor of finishing him. Oh, wait. They did pay you, in a way. Didn’t you make off with not only the opium hoard but keep your gold as well?”

While Field and Calliope regarded each other with amazed bug eyes, Rushy put out two calming hands. “Hold it right here, Tobias. Who in Sam Hill is Wang Tao? That buffalo riceman with a screw loose? No one bashed him over the head with a hookah—leastways, not prior to us departing. Is he dead? Kwok Lee just belted him with a bamboo stick, then shoved him so he hit his head on the safe.”

It was Tobias’s turn to stick out calming hands. “Whatever, Captain Wakeman. Whatever. It’s my advice to take credit for whatever mayhem ensued at that establishment. Word on the street is that you’re a pack of vicious thugs to be reckoned with, and that’s a good thing in the cutthroat, often impolite world of opium smuggling.”

Field said, “That’s another thing, Tobias. I just don’t feel comfortable steaming about with this shipment of illegal opium. I think this had better be our last exchange. I just need that gold to send back East.”

Tobias scoffed. “Who said anything about illegal opium? We’re merely avoiding the heavy and outrageous import taxes the Americans place on it. Surely you’ve transported opium before and have seen it on your manifests.”

“True,” Rushy admitted. He told Field, “I’ve transported a ton of it up the Sacramento, probably. It’s not illegal. It’s listed on manifests right next to the salted turnips, charcoal, and bamboo shoots.”