Free Combustion by Elia Winters

stopped when he reached the last toy in the display case, one she didn’t sell very often but had enjoyed designing. The contraption’s mess of small straps spilled out of his grip. “So how does this work?”
    â€œHere, give me your hand.” This invention’s complexity never seemed to appeal to her clients, most of whom wanted something much simpler and easier to use, but she felt a flush of pride in its design as she strapped it carefully to Eli’s outstretched right hand. A leather band held a small pouch of machinery to the back of his wrist, and thin cords ran from the pouch to small leather loops that slipped over each finger, each with a small brass device attached, fitting between the first and second knuckles but leaving his fingertips free.
    Eli flexed his hand, turning it over. “Interesting. What does it do?”
    Without answering, Astrid flicked the dial on the machinery pouch. Eli jumped in surprise as his fingertips began vibrating, then smiled. “Oh my.” He touched his own arm, then reached out and touched hers, making her shy away. “Ticklish?”
    â€œA bit.” It was easier than telling him even his most gentle touch turned her on, to her continued annoyance. He pulled away, then, and switched off the device.
    â€œMy hand feels odd now.” He unfastened the straps and flexed his fingers.
    â€œIt does that, I suppose.” She set the device back in the case.
    â€œNow, how does your business work? Women come to you, and you sell them these…?”
    â€œâ€¦felicitation devices.” Astrid absentmindedly fingered a gear lever that had been left on the end table. “Yes, that’s how it works. I build my business mostly on referrals.”
    Shaking his head, he seemed to consider his next words before speaking. “I guess I didn’t know that women even knew how to use devices like these.”
    It was a fair assumption. “Some women don’t. I teach many young women how they work and what they can be used for.”
    Astrid could see the interest in his eyes, but he didn’t ask for more details. She pushed the switch that caused the display case to fold up again.
    Eli leaned against the wall and rubbed his beard, considering. “Now that I’ve been in your flat and seen your strange devices, signed all the paperwork and have no real way out, will you show me your invention?” He caught a glimpse of a sheaf of papers spread out on her desk, picked one up. “Is this it?”
    He’d picked up the blueprints for her future shop. She snatched it out of his hands. “No, that’s not it.”
    â€œBailey’s Felicitation Emporium?” He looked at her. “You want to open a shop?”
    She must look like such an amateur to him, and she resented the flush of shame she felt. Ducking her head, Astrid rolled up the blueprints. “Someday. Maybe. We’ll see.”
    â€œAh. That’s an ambitious endeavor.”
    Was he making fun of her? It was difficult to tell. To change the subject, she found the design plans and pulled them from the pile. “I’ll show you my invention. Come sit on the sofa.”
    He perched expectantly on the edge, his dark eyes looking so earnest she couldn’t help but smile, some of her earlier irritation fading.
    â€œIt doesn’t have a name yet.” She brought over the third version of her design and sat next to him. Her leg pressed against his through the thin cotton of her skirt, the position still seeming intimate despite the inappropriate nature of all their interactions so far, and she spread the blueprint out across both their laps.
    He focused on the document, making sense of her rough sketches. “So…it’s a…a…”
    â€œA fucking machine.”
    He looked up, eyebrows receding up toward his hairline. “What did you call it?”
    â€œYou heard me.” Her face felt warm.
    â€œAnd why