Author's Notes:
Usually I put these at the end of the chapter, but, first story and all. I think the last time I wrote a serial was in 2010, so it's exciting to be doing this again. Just a warning, I tend to write these from the seat of my pants, right before the deadline, with little editing. If you see any errors leave a comment and I will fix it.
So this is The House of the Dewey Trollop. It's been on my brain for years and here it finally is. This is Steampunk, but it's Steampunk Lite as none of the characters are mad scientists or inventors or adventurers. There will be small steam-tech components to the story, but not a lot. The characters simply fit well with a universe I already had in my brain, so why waste it? I suspect it will be a little soap-opera-y, mostly drama. Plenty of sex, some violence, some social commentary on poor people getting screwed over. (If you read Deadly Liaisons you're used to that though.) This is told mostly from the POV of Fancy and her niece Liza, but since its an ensemble cast (click on the character button on top) you'll hear a lot of voices. I'll try to make it as not-confusing as possible.
The plan is to update a 1000 to 2000 word mini-chapter every Monday. Each full chapter will be an 'episode' of which I have 7 plotted out so far. Each episode will have 3 to 10 updates. I will publish chapter collections in ebook form as we go along as well. So, I think that's all you need to know. If you want to know how Fancy and Will met, the ebook of their first encounter is on your right.
Enjoy, and feel free to leave comments if you liked it, or if you hated it. I am doing this for free, so show your love!
***
Blind with the finest of handkerchiefs bound over her eyes, only the uneven cobbles of the walk beneath Fancy’s boots suggested they were no longer in Storyville, the red-light district of Karstenhaven. Will held her arm to help her the rest of the way out of the buggy. “Are you ready for your surprise?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered, unable to keep a smile from her lips. Will didn’t have to treat her to things--she appreciated him just as he was, mechanical arm and all--but she couldn’t say she minded the shopping and chocolates and restaurants. She felt him loosen the knot of cloth behind her head and when it fell away she looked up to see where they were having lunch that day.
They were on the very edge of Old Town, where the unfortunate middle class had the disadvantage of living only a block away from Storyville. The building in front of her was sooty grey with dirty windows and a bright blue front door. A peeling sign over the door read “Rooms to Let.”
“What is this?” she asked, looking around. She knew the place well--the house had stood empty on Lane Avenue for almost two years now, it's price far too high for its less than ideal location. Across the street stood a line of shops of dubious reputation, and beyond those shops the derelict tenements of Storyville stood, depressing and unsafe.
“It’s yours,” Will said proudly, his face shining with joy. “I bought it for you.”
She looked at the ugly facade with a realization of horror. “You--you can’t buy me a house.”
With twenty-five years in the whoring business Fancy had thought she could handle anything, from violent johns to her dearest friends dying of drug overdoses in the street. But none of William’s little gifts and chocolate eclairs (though she did love those) could prepare her for such an extravagant gesture of...what? Love? Maybe she had declared her love a little too soundly the very first day they met, but surely he understood sexual exclamations were far from the truth. “Will--this isn’t right.”
The light went out of his expression, but Will went on… “You are always telling me how you wish you had the means to retire--now you can. You can fix it up and rent out the rooms--a respectable landlady. You wouldn’t have to...do what you do...anymore.”
“Except for you? Am I your kept woman now? No one keeps me, William Hutton. I make my own way in the world.”
She started to stalk away, crossing to the other side of the street, where Storyville’s slums awaited her. She might be just a whore, but at least she lived her life on her own terms, not on the whims of a spoiled aristocrat.
With every step towards Storyville her heart sank, until, when she reached the sidewalk, she was afraid she was going to cry. But she couldn't turn around and go back--she just couldn't. “Fancy,” he called after her, and she stopped, relieved. She didn’t want to lose him, the only light in her life.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Will said as he caught up with her. “I have nothing but the most respect for you.” He reached out to touch her cheek with his mechanical hand. Will was the youngest son of a well-off banker with little expected inheritance, but it was the unfortunate amputation of his right arm that had made him an outcast among the social elite.
Fancy looked up at him. Rich, educated, handsome and half her age, she had no idea how she had managed to attract such a man. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It was just...a shock.”
“I should have spoken to you about it first. My father gave me money to invest. I chose real estate. The building will remain in my name. I want to take care of you and give you everything you need. But I know that’s not what you want. No sordid arrangements, no obligations. I’ll hire you, proper-like, with a salary.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling foolish and wishing she had given Will more credit.
He kissed her forehead, the most affection he was comfortable giving her in the very public arena of the street. “Come inside. You’ll like what you see.”
They walked back arm in arm, and Fancy looked at the house again. It was rather narrow, but tall--three stories not including the peaked roof. Sun-faded curtains hung in the windows, increasing the house’s shabby appearance, but new curtains, a new sign and a solid cleaning would improve matters. As they walked up the chipped stone stairs she glanced at the weed-filled gap between the front wall and the sidewalk and imagined bright flowers. She had never planted a flower in her life, but maybe she would like it.
Will unlocked the front door and led her into a dusty hall. The narrow stairs and three tightly closed doors gave it a claustrophobic feel. Fancy’s discontent must have shone in her face because Will quickly opened the door set into the wall next to the staircase. “These are the landlady’s rooms,” he said.
“Rooms?” Fancy asked. Since striking out on her own at the age of sixteen Fancy had lived in a series of one-room flats and boarding houses. They stepped into a furnished sitting room. No one had bothered to cover the furniture so everything--the sofa, end tables, lamps--had a thick layer of dust over them.
“I know it’s a mess,” Will apologized. “I should have hired someone to come clean first, but I couldn’t wait to show it to you.”
“It’s beautiful,” Fancy assured, not because the dull striped wall paper and floral sofa were attractive, but because she knew the room *could be, given a little time and work.
Another door led them into a small bedroom. The brass bedstead with its bare mattress took up most of the space, along with a wardrobe and a compact dressing table with a cracked mirror. A window looked almost directly into another window next door, a mere ten feet away. A nice set of curtains will be first, Fancy thought. “It’s wonderful,” she admitted.
“And there’s a full kitchen, coal heat, electric lights--let me show you the rest.” Fancy laughed at his enthusiasm as he showed her the resident’s parlor, the dining room, and the kitchen, a small one story add-on to the back of the house. There was even a WC under the stairs--an unknown luxury in Storyville.
The second and third floor were identical with four rooms on each floor, as simply furnished as Fancy’s own little room, but with enough space for a boarder to be comfortable. She stood in the third floor hallway, eyes shining with tears she refused to let fall. “William. You didn’t have to do this for me.”
“It’s...well...not a sound investment, but it should bring in a little money when all is said and done. I would do...more...for you if I could.” His youth betrayed his emotions. “Fancy, I--”
“You’ve done more than enough,” she cut him off before he could admit anything. Will was young and rich, even if he was just a second son. One day he would find a proper girl to love him, and Fancy would become a passing folly of his youth, just as she would consider him no more than an attempt to cling to her youth. She did not want either of them admitting to anything that could not be taken back.
She gave him a smile. “C’mon. Lets try out one of these beds.”
“Fancy,” he said, the tenderness in his voice remaining, but she pulled him into one of the rooms to the bare bed. Though in her middle years Fancy had become accustomed to clean sheets she had been fucked on much worse, so she laughed at the cloud of dust that puffed up around them as she pushed Will down onto the mattress.
Being twenty-two and therefore not particular, he pulled her on top of him into a deep kiss. “You are too beautiful,” he offered.
“No flattery,” she said. She could feel his mechanical hand buzzing gently as he cupped her ass, sending anticipatory pleasure through her limbs. She kissed him and reached between them to grab at the bulge in his trousers. “Just want you.”
Taking off more clothing than necessary wasn’t important at the moment. Fancy unbutton’s Will’s fly and freed his growing cock from his trousers. She gathered up her skirts and climbed on top, already slick and ready for him--she was always ready for Will even as she couldn’t quite find the interest in her other customers. She sighed happily as his cock slid up inside her, thick and full of youth. She began to rock against him as he pulled off the glove he always wore to protect his gleaming brass hand, and felt his way under her skirts.
She was always surprised how warm the hand always was, powered by Will’s own nervous system. He slid a smooth finger over her clit, the tiny gears working inside it causing his entire hand to vibrate against her most sensitive spot. She closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure.
“I wish I could feel what you’re feeling,” Will said. She glanced down at him, staring at her as she rode his cock, the warm buzzing of his hand thrilling her.
“It’s wonderful,” she admitted with a smile.
They bounced on the bed, raising cloud after cloud of dust, until Fancy peaked, her orgasm crashing through her. Will pressed harder against her clit until she grabbed his hand and pulled him away, unable to take the strong sensations any more. He grabbed her by the hips, and toppled her, rolling as their bodies remained connected, so that she was on her back and he was on top. Will began to thrust quickly, growling as his own climax took him. He held her by the hips and slammed roughly into her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, forcing him deeper, wanting all of him.
It was always like this.
They collapsed gasping and holding each other tight. Fancy stared up at the ceiling in wonder. She had a house. A house of her very own.
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