Hot and Steamy by Jean Rabe Page A

yourself, my dear Miss Lind. I hope that you will allow me to continue to call upon you, even though it seems that this last machine of mine does indeed do the job that your previous mechanical servant did.”
    â€œWhat?” Rosa asked. She looked down. The ruddy-colored, heart-shaped device was on a ribbon around her neck. It probably weighed a pound, but compared with the gigantic regulator, now silent at her side, it was lighter than air. She touched its gleaming surface, and ran a finger around the keyhole in its small clock face. “It works?”
    â€œIt works,” Mr. Greenberg said simply. Aunt Jean beamed at her over his shoulder. “I thought that it would. It only has to be wound every eight days. I admit I have stretched the task out so I could spend time close to you.” He placed the golden key in her palm and stood up. “But now you are free of both of us, if you choose to be.” He crossed to the door. “I will take my leave now. Send for me if you wish me to come back.”
    Rosa stood up. The soft ticking was so different than the wheezing and groaning of the old regulator. She was filled with gratitude and relief, as well as amazement that this kind, brilliant man had worked in secret for her. That spoke of a passion that she never dreamed she could elicit in a man. Boldly, she went to him. With a smile, she folded the key into his hands and held them tightly.
    â€œI think, dear Martin, that as you have won it, you should keep the key to my heart. You must come to see me at least once every eight days to wind it up.”
    The kind blue eyes twinkled behind the spectacles, and he enfolded her in his arms. The clock-regulator ticked triumphantly between them as she reached up to kiss him. She poured all the pent-up emotion of her lonely, tethered days into the kiss. Rosa was delighted when he returned the embrace with ardor. She nestled her head against his chest and listened to the soft ticking and his pounding heart. His hands ran softly up and down her back. She closed her eyes, feeling she could never have enough of that sensation.
    â€œWell, it’s about time!” Aunt Jean said.

IN THE BELLY OF THE BEHEMOTH
    Matt Forbeck
    Matt Forbeck has been a full-time creator of award-winning games and fiction since 1989. His latest novels— Amortals and Vegas Knights —are on sale now. He has designed collectible card games, role-playing games, miniatures games, board games, and toys, and has written novels, short fiction, comic books, motion comics, nonfiction, magazine articles, and computer game scripts and stories. For more about him and his work, visit Forbeck.com .
    D usky didn’t hear the Union soldier until he tumbled out of the bushes near the main house on the plantation that she’d never left her entire life. She’d never seen one of the boys in blue up till that point, but from the way the style of his clothing matched that of the Confederate soldiers regularly trooping in and out of Dr. Tucker’s barn she recognized right away that he had to be part of the Union invaders that were charging through Georgia on their way to the sea. Gunshots had been cracking in the distance for days, getting closer all the time, but the thought that they were here, on the plantation’s doorstep, still stunned her.
    Dusky dropped the bucket of mop water she’d been carrying and put a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. The water slopped over her bare feet, but she ignored it as she stared at the bloody mess a bullet had made of the man’s neck. Other than the crimson splashing his face, his complexion was paler than that of anyone she’d ever seen—even Dr. Tucker—especially when contrasted with her coffee-colored skin.
    â€œMa’am.” The solder staggered toward her and collapsed to his knees. “I’ve been—could you help me, please?”
    With that, he toppled over backward at an awkward angle and bled