Crimson Clockwork Pt. 02/03

"All the more reason for me to be there. I'm no fighter but you've seen what I can do with automatons. I can prepare a few more razorflies, tinker with others along the way. Allow my mindless machines to take a few bullets."

Istvan cracked a weary smile.

"Shouldn't have bothered. We'll have a harder time fighting you than we will those cultists."

Beaming, I crossed the room and rewarded him for his wisdom with a peck on the cheek.

"Good. Let's go meet Henryk. The sooner I set his mind at ease, the sooner we can begin our hunt."

**

Less than an hour later we strode up to the theater, which was nestled between a few rowdy taverns and a burned-out row of small homes. Given the turbulent nature of the Gilded District, I was surprised the fire hadn't been more widespread.

"An interesting place to find a skyship captain," I said, glancing up at the marquee, which displayed a long list of unfamiliar names.

"Henryk was a musician before he joined the navy, believe it or not. He's not performing but this theater is his usual haunt when he's in the city," Istvan said, before giving me a wry grin. "Bit of a warning, though, it's not exactly the polite sort of theater."

"The best kind, then," I said with a wicked grin.

Laughing, Istvan opened the doors. Inside was a small bar, where a dozen well-dressed people drank and caroused. Burly men with pistols on their hips stood guard at another door, exchanging tickets for coin.

Through those doors awaited a small, smoky theater. Alchemical lamps cast a ghostly green glow throughout the room. Scores of people crowded into benches, little tables, or plush booths. For the moment, the stage was empty.

"There," Cymkor said, pointing to one of the larger booths.

A man with a grey-streaked beard and long, sleek black hair sat in the booth, sipping his drink and watching the stage. He wore what looked to be a patched-up naval uniform with the insignia torn off. The outfit and the faint scars on his cheek gave him a certain rakish quality. With a soft chuckle, I realized that he resembled one of the corsairs from a series of pulpy adventure novels I'd read once.

Smiling, I marched right across the room, flanked by my lovers.

"Captain Henryk, I presume?" I said in my warmest, sweetest voice. "I'm Lyneth."

"By the dead gods," the captain said with a trembling laugh, giving me a quick glance. "Cymkor said he was working with a well-connected associate. Mentioned nothing about a beauty like you. If I'd known he was partnered up with such a vixen I might have been even more insistent about a meeting."

There was something...off about his tone. He was a bit breathless and distracted, occasionally shifting in his seat or glancing down at the table.

I laughed and extended my hand. His hand took mine and gave it a kiss, though his lips trembled a little.

Given his behavior, I wondered if he'd imbibed a stimulant or another drug before the show. If I hadn't been there to conduct business, I'd have been tempted to partake myself.

Smiling, I smoothed out my dress and scooted into the booth. My boots bumped into something beneath the table. A muffled squeak rose in response and Henryk's eyes widened.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Istvan said with a boisterous laugh, before leaning down and glancing under the table.

My eyes widened, guessing the reason for Henryk's distraction. I spared a quick glance underneath the table. A petite woman in a skimpy red dress knelt beneath the table, her blonde curls arranged in brilliant waves down her back. Her mouth bobbed up and down on Henryk's shaft.

Meeting my gaze, she gave me a little wink before going back to her work. Nearly blushing at the sight, I raised back up and laughed.

"If I'd known your friend Henryk was this fun, I'd have demanded to meet him earlier," I said with a sly grin at my lovers.

Chuckling, they sat down as well, giving the young woman under the table enough space to conduct her wicked work.

"Really, Henryk?" Cymkor asked. "I told you we'd come back to discuss business."

"No reason we can't," the captain said with a soft grunt. "And this...wasn't exactly planned. Isolde here did a damned good job during her first set, so I sent her flowers and asked her how she managed to reach some of those high notes, and then we hit it off." He wrinkled his nose and took a few deep breaths. "And we decided to have a bit of fun during the intermission."

I glanced around, realizing that Henryk and Isolde weren't the only ones engaged in such pursuits. While the theater was certainly not as debauched as the Rite of the Last Dusk, a few people were snogging in their seats, and one gentleman had his hands underneath his date's skirt.

"Given the nature of the performances here, it's not exactly unusual," Istvan said.

"This is positively tame, in fact," Henryk said with a broken chuckle. "How have you been, Istvan?"

"War's over. So damned good, all things considered."

"Cymkor tells me you have a ship that needs stopped."

"Indeed."

Henryk turned his gaze towards me. Unable to help myself, I licked my lips a little at the thought of what was occurring under the table.

"Perhaps it is best to wait until we can discuss things privately," I said, glancing downward. After giving him a bright smile, I looked under the table again. "Isolde, darling, could you be a dear friend and finish Henryk off? We've an important matter to discuss."

The blonde winked at me and let out a muffled little giggle. Her bobbing grew faster, and her slender fingers stroked the lower half of his shaft. I glanced away, smirking at Istvan as Henryk's groans grew louder.

The lights dimmed. Cheers erupted from the crowd.

"We can hardly discuss business when the music's going," he said with a grin, then reached beneath the table. "So ease up a bit, Isolde. We've got some time until the next intermission."

I supposed there was little harm in waiting a few minutes to finalize our arrangement, though it would be difficult to enjoy the show knowing what was occurring just a few feet away. Licking my lips at the sound of a soft moan from Isolde, I placed my hands in my lap and looked to the stage.

The lights went out completely. The cheers reached a crescendo, which drowned out Henryk's heavy breathing and the faint murmurs of his lover.

When the lights roared back on, a figure stood upon the stage, clad in a black robe and cowl.

She raised her hands. Music wafted from speakers embedded within the stage and the ceiling. A wondrously soft voice emerged from the robed figure, weaving a song about the trials and travails of the old cults.

Not exactly the sort of performance I expected from a place like this.

"Why do they hunt?" she sang, beckoning towards the ceiling. "Why do they drool like wolves for my soul?"

The music cut out. She tore her cowl back, revealing a pretty face adorned with dark makeup and brown hair done up in a short bob.

"Oh, I know why they hunt me, boys and girls," she shouted, her voice dripping with desire.

With a shrug of her shoulders, the robe fell away, revealing a pale body that was completely nude save for dark flower petals covering her nipples and a skirt that didn't even descend to her mid-thigh.

After a sway of her hips, the crowd hooted and hollered. The music kicked back on, switching to a raunchy, upbeat tune about hunting down one's favorite lover.

I laughed and clapped, only to shiver as Istvan's lips found my ear.

"Can't help but think you'd look good in an outfit like that," he murmured.

Chuckling, I turned my head to brush my lips against his, then glanced back at Cymkor. His gaze was affixed upon the stage, almost as if I wasn't even there.

Given the way that performer writhed and leapt across the stage, I couldn't exactly blame him.

Still, it could be fun to feign a bit of possessive jealousy.

As the crowd cheered the end of the first song, I rested a hand on Cymkor's thigh. He raised an eyebrow. I flashed him a hungry grin and leaned in for a quick kiss, my desire ignited by lyrics and the sensuous haze gripping the room.

While I kissed Cymkor, Istvan nuzzled the other side of my neck.

Henryk chuckled.

"You three fit right in," he said, before that last word shifted into a thrumming moan.

As two more robed dancers joined the scantily clad woman on the stage, I unbuckled Cymkor's belt. He was already rock-hard, likely from the combination of my touch and the ribald performance. As Istvan continued to nuzzle my neck, I licked at Cymkor's cheek and took hold off his shaft, giving it a few slow strokes beneath the table.

Not one to be left out, Istvan reached under the table as well, grabbing the fine fabric of my dress and raising it up to my thighs. Shivers rippled through me as those skilled fingers brushed over my stockinged legs.

With everyone else in the theater focused on their own partners or the antics upon the stage, nobody paid us any mind at all. The darkness, the anonymity, the heat of my lovers' bodies...all of it had had me dripping wet by the time Istvan's fingers grazed over my silken panties.

As the two robed dancers tore off their clothing to outfits that matched the lead dancer, Istvan gently bit down on the side of my neck. A moment later, his fingers slid beneath the silk and found my clit. I whimpered against Cymkor's cheek. The mainlander grunted a little, his hips wriggling as I stroked him.

By the dead gods, how daring could I be? Given the darkness of the theater I could probably get away with a bit more than just some teasing under the table...

After a gentle stroke of my fingers against Istvan's wrist, I pulled away from him. With a grunt of effort, I tugged my panties to the side, exposing my sex. Given the size of the booth, it took a bit of wriggling for me to settle in Cymkor's lap. Keeping my back against his brawny chest, I wriggled and adjusted my dress. His scarred hands helped guide me into place.

Anyone looking our way would know exactly what we were up to, of course, but the layer of fabric and the table would keep the most scandalous sights from view. As I reached back to grip Cymkor's shoulder, I took a deep breath, steadied myself, then sank down upon him.

Despite the thunderous noise from the stage, I bit my lip to muffle a whimper. Henryk glanced over at me and laughed. Blushing, I grabbed Istvan and pulled him in for a kiss.

More dancers and musicians rushed the stage, but I was too lost in the heat of Cymkor's body to care much for the show. With my hands braced on the table, I gently rocked my hips back and forth, grinding against him, drawing out soft moans that nobody beyond our table could possibly have heard.

No doubt others may have caught glimpses of our antics, but I didn't fucking care.

Istvan muttered something to Cymkor that I couldn't quite decipher, then reached under the table once more, slipping a hand beneath my skirts. While Cymkor's wondrous cock surged within me, Istvan's clever fingers set to work on my clit again.

My dazed, fluttering eyes drifted to the stage, where five scantily-clad woman twirled and writhed. The lead singer glanced in my direction and locked eyes with me...

No. Just an illusion. From the stage, she could have seen nothing but dark shadows, though she likely knew what sort of deeds her performance could inspire.

Thrilled at that notion, I whimpered and rocked a bit faster.

As Cymkor bucked gently up against me, I couldn't help but imagine myself on stage, clad in a scandalous outfit, my body nearly bared for all to see. Hungry eyes upon me, lovers pleasing each other in the audience while I leapt and writhed...

My head lolled back, resting on Cymkor's shoulder as the pleasure surged. During a brief break between songs, I bit down on the inside of my cheek to stifle a rising moan. Thankfully the next tune was quite loud and boisterous. As the heavy drumbeats thrummed through the theater, I allowed myself to drift, to surrender, to collapse...

With my hands still gripping the table, I let out a growl of effort and rocked my hips down against Cymkor, then wriggled a little and clenched around him. He cursed against the back of my neck. I grinned, my fluttering eyes drifting to stare at the dark ceiling as I felt him twitch inside me.

He murmured my name, the sound barely audible over the pounding of the drums. A moment later he gave in, his strong hands gripping my hips as he rocked against me. Istvan's fingers continued to work, syncing quite well with his friend's powerful thrusts.

As Cymkor's seed graced my aching sex, Istvan licked beneath my earlobe and muttered something I couldn't quite make out.

Though I hadn't the faintest idea of what he said, those fingers and the gentle heat of his breath against my neck were more than enough.

I came, straining with the effort of holding back a cry of triumph. Instead, I let out a long sob and a few heavy gasps, all of which were thankfully drowned out by the riotous display before us. The entire room melted away. Even the music seemed to fade, until all that remained were Cymkor's cock and Istvan's fingers.

The gentle rocking of my hips turned to weak little trembles. I slumped against the table, panting and twitching, my thighs aching with effort.

Breathless and shaking, I squirmed out of Cymkor's lap and collapsed against Istvan's shoulder.

And not a moment too soon. The last song reached a roaring crescendo, bringing most of the patrons to their feet. Once Cymkor had shoved his cock back in his pants and buckled his belt, he flashed me a hungry grin and rose, applauding fiercely along with the others.

Henryk leaned his head back, cursed, and his fingers scraped the top of the table. Sweat dripped down his forehead, the veins of his neck strained, and he let out another curse, followed by a long sigh.

"Gods' graves, Isolde," he muttered as the echoes of the last song faded. "Kept me right up on the edge there. Damned near thought you were going to kill me."

A playful giggle flitted from beneath the table. The blonde emerged a moment later, wiping her lips as the lights came back on.

"A pleasure to meet you," she said to me. "But I need to return backstage to prepare for my next set."

After a long, simmering glance at my lovers, she curtsied, then spun away. Once the shivers had finally fled my body and I'd recovered my wits, I collected a handkerchief from my purse to clean up between my legs a little.

"Well, now that we've all had our fun," Henryk said with a smile, wiping at his sweaty brow. "We can get to business."

"Notall of us had our fun," I said, brushing my hand over Istvan's thigh beneath the table.

"We can save that for later tonight," he said, giving me a wink.

"So," Henryk said, finishing off his wine. "I know why Istvan and Cymkor want their friend Matyar back. Old fashioned honor, battle-forged bonds, and so on. But you? Why are you so keen on tracking down that ship?"

"Those cultists nearly killed me. And they killed innocent people. All for...some silly, shadowy reason. Such a crime cannot go unanswered."

"But you're clearly a highborn lady. Why risk your life? Why not let these brave fools take care of it, or hire someone else to do your dirty work?"

The simple solution would have been to allow others to risk their lives, to just toss coin at the problem like every other rich person in Raveth did.

I didn't want to handle it like some other rich girl and toss coins at a crisis until it went away.

My brother Gavriel had seen matters the same way, when he'd signed up for a war that someone else could have fought.

"Because sometimes doing the right thing means doing it yourself. And I have a keen knack for automatons that could be useful. The more machines I can throw into the fray, the better chance we have of saving Matyar and the other captives."

Henryk smiled.

"You've got that fire in you. I can see why these two like you." He tapped his fingers on the side of his empty glass. "My terms are simple: I'll need five thousand in platinum before we set sail. Down payment. Then I get to keep three fourths of the valuables you find on the ship. And I get the full salvage rights to the vessel. If anything blows back on me, I expect you to use your money and influence to get me out of trouble."

"Five thousand platinum?" Cymkor growled. "You said nothing about a down payment when we met this morning."

"Because I didn't know you had a rich woman as your associate," Henryk said with a wide grin.

"That is fine," I said, patting Cymkor's wrist.

That was a sizable sum, but not an unreasonable one for a woman of my means. I could drain the account I used for my workshop and withdraw a bit more money from my personal accounts, leaving plenty to spare.

"But we must leave as soon as possible," I said. "Given their head start, no later than tomorrow evening. I can have the money as early as noon."

"My crew and I can be ready by noon. Now let's enjoy the rest of the show, eh?"

The remaining delights of the evening were not quite as debauched as that first performance. Aside from a few gentle touches during particularly salacious songs, we all kept our hands to ourselves. With the deal secured, I had a few cups of wine, so I was swaying a little by the end of the show.

As Isolde and the other singers took to the stage to give one last bow, I rose to my feet and offered a riotous cheer along with the others.

Once the cheers had faded, I gripped both of my lovers' hands.

"Come on," I purred, batting my eyes at Istvan. "It's early enough that we can head back to the workshop, where I can take care of you..."

***

Thank you for reading! The conclusion of this story will be submitted shortly, likely within a week of this one being published. The next chapter will conclude the adventure and will feature a bit more debauchery as well.