Funhouse

by Aurelia T. Evans

  “You don’t have to do anything with our patrons that you don’t want to do. Lady Sasha and I are quite adept at walking among them without getting accosted—with the right dissuasion.” He brandished the blades on his gloves and nodded at Lady Sasha, who wove between the many people in the lounge completely naked, but with a pair of king cobras wrapped around her body like a harness, hissing in warning when anyone dared get too close.

  “Where am I supposed to hide a knife or a snake in this outfit?”

  Mikhail laughed, a booming sound that ricocheted eagerly against the concrete. “Let me be your blade.”

  So he’d protect her from them. But what protects them from me?

  She could sense it in this wide room. Pulsing through the laughter and chatter, in the bubbles from the champagne, in the hiss of skin and fabric. Everyone had adjusted their dresses and trousers so that anything they’d exposed in the maze was back to socially appropriate. But there was a hand on a woman’s thigh. Under the top of a bodice. Over the front of a man’s trousers. Up the back of a jacket. All these hands everywhere, and by now she knew a little something about hands everywhere. Moans under the creepy quartet music. Pills being passed from jackets—prescription or illicit highs, the promise of youth all night long. For every person in Arcanium who said no, there seemed to be another who would say yes, please.

  And for all that she wanted to say no, she was literally terrified that she’d say yes, please without hesitation. She tried not to show it as Mikhail walked with her to the buffet table. Standing in front of fried grasshoppers, salmon pate sandwiches and blinis, she was reminded how hungry she was after all the exercise the demon hands had put her through.

  She’d never been much of a foodie. Joseph had cooked most of the meals, and when it had been her turn, she’d depended on simple staples. But some of the restaurants and food events they’d attended had at least proved to her that her palate could be broadened. She filled a small plate with one of everything that didn’t look like it had once been an insect or arachnid, though she wasn’t averse to trying them eventually.

  An older man with receding hairline but a face rife with character came up next to her with his own plate, choosing among caviar and cheese options. “It’s a cold night, and that’s a very short dress. Would you like my jacket?”

  Neve glanced nervously at Mikhail behind her, who was picking up toothpicked samples with that delicate dexterity that had surprised her before. He nodded, but she wasn’t sure what he was giving permission for.

  She opted for being polite. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “My friends and I are sitting on that part of the couch over there.” The man nodded to a group of four other men, who were talking together and eyeing her as their friend spoke. “There’s room for you.”

  “No. I really think I’m done for the night. I’m here for the food.” She started around the table toward the bar for a drink.

  The man caught her upper arm. He wasn’t rude, and he didn’t hurt her, but Lord Mikhail set a heavy hand on the man’s shoulder. The man immediately released her. Lord Mikhail turned away as though nothing had happened and as though he wasn’t wearing assless chaps.

  “Enjoy your evening,” Lord Mikhail called as the man made a wise retreat. “Do not fear saying no to them, Neve. And you don’t have to be polite. They’ll only call you a bitch—and that but once.”

  “What do they say when you say no?” Neve asked.

  “They don’t say much to me. Even when they desire me, I frighten them. People fear what they most want. When I’m not hunting, I do nothing to discourage this. The Lady and I are only here if someone breaks their contract.”

  “And to salt the mines,” Neve said.

  A smile. “Do you want to stay in the lounge, or would you like an escort to the green room?”

  “I’d like to just sit and not be disturbed. Is that possible here, or do I need to go to the green room?”

  He gestured to one of the high tables by the bar, made for two, then broke away from her to get his own drink.

  “That was quite a show, darling. Everything I’ve come to expect from Bell’s Arcanium and better.” Samuel, accompanied by his associate Allen, had sneaked up on her from behind, whether intentionally or not. She had no doubt, however, that waiting until Lord Mikhail was no longer at her side had been intentional.

  He held out his hand as though in a business meeting. “Samuel Amendola.”

  “Neve. I don’t really have a title here.”

  Allen stripped her with his eyes but Samuel didn’t. He wasn’t even briefly looking at her cleavage, displaying controlled behavior Neve had only noticed in long-time coworkers and her bosses, at least the ones who wore lab coats instead of suits—men who’d learned how to work with women as equals. Neve liked working with men like that, so she didn’t mind shaking his hand, although she remained wary.

  Samuel kept hold of her fingers, lifted them as though he would kiss them, but the lift was the only salute he gave. “Have you worked in circuses before, or in another profession?”

  There was only a little hesitation before asking about other professions—a comma rather than an ellipsis, which carried less disapproval, and he didn’t leer at the suggestion.

  “I’ve never been part of a circus before. I originally worked in a pharmaceutical research lab.”

  Samuel raised a bushy white eyebrow before sitting in the chair next to her. “You don’t say. Were you always interested in the circus arts? Dreamed of running away to a circus?”

  She’d wanted space, but actual conversation was something she’d been without for a while.

  “Not in the least. Arcanium sort of…happened to me.” Neve wondered how to play her past. Obviously, the truth wouldn’t do, but she’d never been good at making up stories. “I was going through relationship problems. Some women hit the gym. Some get a haircut. I apparently joined a circus.”

  “So that ring on your finger… Is that by habit or is the relationship on hold?” Samuel nodded toward her left hand. “You chose a rather unconventional venue for mere separation. Are they aware of your relocation?”

  Neve raised her left hand to stare at her wedding ring. In terms of fidelity—and being realistic with herself about the nature of Arcanium as well as the nature she’d been given—the diamond had become nothing more than pretty carbon. She wasn’t going to get divorce papers signed, but there was no reason to dwell too much on technicalities if she’d be declared dead a decade or so. She sighed then twisted the ring off and moved it to the third finger of her right hand, which was less symbolic than it seemed—the fourth finger on her right hand was smaller than the left.

  “Habit,” she said softly.

  “I didn’t intend to bring up unpleasant memories.”

  “You couldn’t have known.” She checked his left hand. No ring and no tan line where a ring would be. In the winter, that wasn’t a given sign, but he was darker-skinned, like Mikhail, and she thought the contrast would have shown better on him. Allen still wore his wedding ring. All the more reason to keep ignoring him. “How often have you hosted the Funhouse?”

  “This will be my third year. I have several properties here and there that have served as Bell’s canvas. We used to be a group of twenty, but we’ve since grown—invitation only, like a secret society.” Samuel grinned with amusement at himself. “As secret societies go, I suspect we’re more esoteric than most, but at least we’re not meddling in the affairs of the world.”

  “Why meddle in the affairs of the world when you can meddle in other kinds of affairs?” Neve ducked her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out as sarcastic as it did.”

  He placed a hand on hers on the table. “We do what we do. When I was young myself, I used to imagine running away to join the circus. They lost some of their edge when they discarded unapologetic strangeness and danger and focused more on gymnastic feats. Admirable in their own way.” He peered over the lounge, where Valorie
was showing off her contortion skills and where Seth and Lars engaged in displays of tandem strength. “But Bell’s Arcanium is special. It’s the highlight of our year.”

  “Did he suggest a sex show or did you?” Neve asked.

  “Who are you to judge, girl?” Allen laughed, gesturing over her.

  “I’ve done private parties before, but they were the kind partners went to and where you didn’t pay for the performers,” Neve said. “I’m only judging a little. You’re judging a lot.”

  Samuel’s smile widened. “This is Allen’s first party. He doesn’t quite appreciate it the same way I do.”

  “And how do you appreciate it, exactly?” Neve asked.

  “I’m a widower, have been for ten years. I never remarried, but I crave company like any man. In my circles, you tend to cross paths with the perverse and mercenary, but it’s not very interesting. Not at all. Deep in the heart of it, I feel other men like me forget that companionship is the commodity, not the people. When Bell insisted that all carnal accompaniment would be performative or else strictly consensual, that appealed to me more than knowing I could have anyone and anything I wanted.”

  Samuel gestured to his friend. “Allen doesn’t quite understand that. He thinks the contracts give us loopholes rather than limitations. But even after your performance in the maze, I appreciate that if you’re here with me now, talking with me, it’s not because you were coerced by your boss or some misguided effort to keep me happy. And if this conversation is all you do with me, I welcome it.”

  Allen rolled his eyes. “You’re a romantic old fool. Who sponsors and attends a sex show for the conversation?”

  “He’d be surprised,” Samuel murmured to her before taking a drink.

  “Well, I know I’ll be disappointed if she’s not in the circuit,” Allen said. “I’m saving myself for that, unless you’re available for a private room now?”

  “Pass. Even if I weren’t exhausted, hard pass.” Neve kept expecting some kind of repercussion for being rude, but no fiery hail rained down upon her head, and no man slapped her unwilling mouth.

  “You’re a shrewd businessman and a pig, Allen. Have another drink and think about what you’ve said,” Samuel said, with the same light, casual air with which he’d introduced himself.

  “I’d rather think about other things.” But Allen took the advice to get another drink, looking instead to other cast members in the lounge.

  Neve watched him leave. “He’s never going to catch a circus woman like that.”

  “I believe any companionship he pays for tends to be of the sort with whom he’s paying for something else entirely.”

  “And what do you pay for?”

  “I’ve no interest in remarrying, Neve, dear, but I enjoy the company of a young woman, the better if she has something to say.”

  She slid her hand from under his. “I’m not sure how to feel about that, Mr. Amendola.”

  She really didn’t. The sensation of his very human hand on hers and the raspy warmth of his worn voice was doing things that made her spine feel as bubbly as the champagne, and she didn’t know whether to be angry at her body or Samuel or Bell or whether she should just follow her sex-crazed instincts. Practically speaking, she was worn out, but she’d bet her entire indecent wardrobe that she could lead Samuel to one of the private rooms, draw the curtains, have him and still be able to resuscitate her arousal for a performance.

  “Samuel, please,” he said. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, do feel free to find yourself more welcome conversation. I’m grateful for the time I’ve had.”

  He was easily in his sixties, vital but old to her, with thick hair and leathery skin. She’d never been a May-December romanticist, but age hadn’t been a significant factor in her pursuit of a partner back when sex hadn’t been high on her list. Did it matter now that sex had taken a different place on that list? Her body didn’t care, but what about her?

  “Tell me, my dear, what did you do in pharmaceuticals?” he asked.

  “Research and development. Slow, methodical and often disappointing, but I liked my work, especially since I wasn’t the part of the team that handled trials. I always felt that would be too much pressure. I worked with theory and formulas, contributed to preliminary testing—nothing where lives might be lost. I also never had to sell what I helped create. I’ve been told I’m too blunt for that.”

  Samuel smiled. “If you liked your work, why abandon it? Life in a traveling circus may seem exciting from the outside, but does it compare?”

  As long as she was understating the truth… “I might have been a bit hasty with my career change.”

  “Is there anything about Arcanium that keeps you here?” His implication was clear, but she appreciated he didn’t say it. An orgasm could be faked. Just because it looked like she’d been thrilled to pieces didn’t necessarily mean that she had been.

  She tentatively placed her hand on his, afraid that she was just doing what men like Allen expected her to do, afraid that Samuel was being charming to get what he wanted, afraid that it didn’t matter because she was going to do this anyway.

  “Bell does what he can to keep me. Plenty of pretty things. New people. Excitement. Samuel, I confess, I haven’t been completely honest with you, and I’m not very good at telling lies or letting myself get away with them.”

  Samuel glanced down at her hand on his, at her fingertips brushing over the prominent veins. He tilted his head. “Well, I can’t pretend I have the same compunctions—I am a businessman, after all—but if it’s against your principles, who am I to stand in the way?”

  She was thankful she was barefoot, because she thought she’d wobble if she were wearing heels. She slid off her chair then urged him to stand as well, which brought him almost flush against her. The friction of his suit through the thin silk made her breath catch and her eyelids flutter.

  Neve threaded her fingers through his hand. After a deliberate press of her hips against his, she slowly drew him with her to one of the privacy booths at the back of the lounge. She avoided Allen’s heavy gaze and resisted the urge to flip him off.

  But she caught sight of Mikhail. Without a word, gesture or expression, he set his drink on the bar then strode behind it to a less ostentatious series of curtains that Neve assumed led back to the green room. She ran her tongue along her teeth watching him leave.

  “Part of the reason I left my old job to join Arcanium was because my relationship with my husband had changed. I’d changed.” She pulled them into the black booth, which was lit only by a small, old-fashioned lamp on a table. She tugged the rope that held the curtain open. It swung closed, blocking the view of everything on the outside, but it wasn’t nearly as effective as the red curtain at blocking sound.

  Everything in the room except the red curtain was black. It looked like the booth of a bordello.

  “People change in marriage,” Samuel said. “Newlyweds often forget that. They marry not one person but a hundred, one changing into another year by year, sometimes transforming over the course of months or weeks or days.” His gaze finally began to wander over her body. He could have touched her then but he didn’t. He waited, curiosity a glitter in his eyes. “What changed for you?”

  “I developed…appetites that I’d never had before.”

  Neve hadn’t ever tried actually using charm on anyone who wasn’t her husband. All the sex she’d had since joining Arcanium had just fallen into her lap whether she’d wanted it or not. She tried now, hoping that any amateur mistakes she made would be endearing to a man who’d doubtlessly been flirted with by women more professional than she.

  “He betrayed me, but I know now that he never would have been enough.” She kept her voice quiet as much for effect as for keeping anyone on the outside from hearing. His suit jacket spread as she undid the buttons. His breathing came more heavily, pushing his chest against the spotless, pressed, white shirt.

  “Why do you think Bell let me in, Samuel? I have
no special skills. I don’t juggle. I don’t tumble. I’m not especially flexible. I don’t do tricks with animals. I’m not keen on heights. Why do you think Bell brought me into Arcanium?”

  “Why?”

  A low moan escaped her. Desire magnified that compelling raspy quality in his voice, his question like nails clawing at her skin in desperation, though he otherwise seemed so composed. Neve stroked down the front of his trousers, found where he wasn’t composed at all.

  “Because nothing is ever enough.” She curled her other hand around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her. Despite his patience, he met her with the sudden passion his reply had revealed.

  She unzipped his trousers, slipped through the opening there and through his boxers to take his hot cock in her hand.

  Neve tore her mouth from his, pulled him back by his thick hair when he started to kiss down her neck. “I have one question to ask, Samuel.”

  “Anything.”

  She held his cockhead in her palm, massaging around his slit with her thumb.

  “Is this why you spoke to me tonight?” She stared directly into his eyes with such intensity, he stopped trying to look at all of her at once. “Did you think your kindness would get you more than your friend’s crudeness? Did you deliberately approach me with him to make your honey seem sweeter against his vinegar?”

  He panted, brows knitting in either confusion or in an attempt to stall as he considered how best to reply in his own favor.

  “Your answer won’t affect what I do,” she said quietly. “I just want to know.”

  “I wanted to have sex with you.” Samuel traced the line of her collarbone to the strap of the dress. “What man in his right mind wouldn’t? But I approached you to know you, without any expectation, nor did I set out to seduce. This, whatever this is, is a happy accident.” He brushed her lip with his thumb, licked his own lips at the touch. “I told you. I prefer paying for company, not sex.”

  “Well, you paid for company. Are you paying for sex?” She gave him a particularly intense squeeze up the full length of him.