Washing Away

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Washing Away (Valves & Vixen: Steampunk Erotica, Volume 3)
Ed. Nicole Gestalt
Publisher & Category:
House of Erotica

EXCERPT: The solitary gaslight swayed in the strong, wintry wind. Snowflakes spun through the cone of light that swung back and forth across the sidewalk to the side of a wood framed hotel that saw better days. Large snowflakes stuck to a window for long seconds before reluctantly losing their shape and becoming thin rivulets that trickled downward.
Within the dark room the feeble light filtered through curtains that also saw better days. The solitary room was warmer than the winter night outside, but not by much.
“Why this place?” a masculine voice asked. “Why a seedy, dirty little place like this?”
His answer was the squeak of the bed as a feminine form outlined by the curtained window light giggled and crawled forward. The woman turned at the head of the bed and lowered her hips.
“Taste me,” she whispered and tilted her head forward so that her long hair dangled back and forth across his hips. A deep, masculine groan answered her, and beefy hands rubbed and squeezed her hips, then her ass cheeks. She giggled again and lowered her hips further. The groan became muffled. “Do you like my scent,” she asked and reached between the man’s legs. The excited reply was muffled as she rolled her hips back and forth, and her head rose and dipped in a slow rhythm. The man groaned again.
After a few moments she stopped and rose on her knees. His voice rose in protest.
She turned and straddled his chest. The light barely lit the long face framed by long dark hair and decorated with a bushy mustache. His hands resumed their rubbing of her hips and ass cheeks.
“You like?”
“Always have,” he replied in a low voice and squeezed, hard. “You were the best. Especially your first time. That belly dancing in Egypt did wonders for you.”
The woman leaned forward and kissed his forehead. He slipped a hand between her thighs. She gasped and sighed.
“I know.”
“I should have married you back then,” he added.
“I know.”
“You should have married me when we met in London.”
“Really?” A hint of sarcasm was in her voice.
“But then, we wouldn’t be here.”
She reached behind the pillows, between the headboard and the end of the sheet covered mattress.
“What are you doing?”
“Sshhhh,” the woman replied and placed a finger against his lips.
He chuckled and trailed thick fingers through her pubic hair while he curled her long hair around his other hand.
She pulled her hair free and sat on his stomach. The light from the window shone briefly on a polished, thin round stiletto blade. The woman clapped a strong hand across his mouth and the blade disappeared into the shadow of his left temple. His eyes opened wide, the whites easily visible in the near darkness. A less than lustful gasp and groan filtered through her fingers. His body jerked, his feet kicked, and then he went limp though his limbs shuddered spasmodically.
The woman sighed, placed a pillow against the side of his head and withdrew the stiletto, now darkly stained and dripping.
She remained seated on his stomach, slowly tilting her head from side to side as if studying the now motionless body. She turned the head so that his lifeless eyes gazed at her.
“I wasn’t sure I could do this,” the woman told him in an emotionless voice. “But, it was so easy.”
The window rattled from a strong gust of wind.
“Everything could have been so different,” she said later in a matter-of-fact voice while standing by the bed, shrouded in a winter cloak, and pulling on a pair of gloves. “I’m glad things worked out the way they have.” She paused at the door and listened. At that time of the morning no one was up. Odds were, even the night clerk was asleep. The woman cast a final look at the body followed by a whispered, “Someone really should have told you, hell hath no fury like a girl scorned…or…ill-used.”
The gas lamp lit hallway decorated with a faded, frayed carpet, was empty. She hurried to a door at the rear of the hotel and plunged into the frigid night. Only a horse carriage, and a hissing steam carriage were out and about. With a final look up and down the street, she left the hotel grounds and disappeared into the snowy darkness that was Pennsylvania Avenue.

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