Ringmaster

by Aurelia T. Evans

  “Hello there, pumpkin,” Kitty said, crouching in front of the little girl who was, indeed, dressed as a pumpkin witch. She had smudges on her mouth that suggested she’d recently eaten something chocolaty.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” a man said, running up beside her.

  An intensely relieved teenage girl wearing a little black dress and a long black and white wig joined him. The pumpkin girl must have slipped away from father and sister, as little children are wont to do when distracted by a shiny chestnut braid swinging and begging for a good yank.

  Now that the braid had proven to be connected to a tall woman with hair on her body like a monster in a storybook, the little pumpkin girl had lost her sense of adventure and become shy. But most monsters wouldn’t smile as sincerely as Kitty did, and a curious glimmer returned to the little girl’s big eyes.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Kitty asked, still on the little girl’s level.

  The little girl looked up to check with her daddy. He nodded in encouragement.

  “Gabriella,” the pumpkin girl replied softly.

  “Hello, Gabriella. That’s such a lovely name. My name is Kitty.”

  “Like the cat?” Gabriella asked.

  “Like the cat,” Kitty replied. “Can I pick you up? You’re just the cutest pumpkin witch I’ve ever seen.”

  Gabriella opened her arms from where she’d been sucking on the ends of her fingers. Kitty gave her a great big smile and lifted Gabriella up into her arms as she stood again, propping Gabriella on her hip.

  “Do you have a cat, Gabriella?” Kitty asked.

  “I have two,” Gabriella replied, showing Kitty two fingers.

  “Two? I love cats. Do you love your cats?” Kitty asked.

  Gabriella nodded.

  “Has Daddy taught you about how to be nice to your cats?”

  Gabriella nodded again. “Daddy tells me not to pull their tails or pet them too rough.”

  “Very good, pumpkin. It’s best to be sweet and gentle with cats. After all, you wouldn’t like it if someone came up to you and pulled your hair the way you might accidentally pull a cat’s tail, right?”

  Gabriella shook her head.

  “The same goes with people, sweetheart. I know I look funny. Do I look funny to you, Gabriella?” Kitty asked.

  “You look furry,” Gabriella replied. “And you have a beard like Grandpa.”

  “Gaby…” her father murmured under his breath, somewhere between embarrassed and scolding.

  “I do have a beard, and I’m all hairy, aren’t I?” Kitty interrupted, reassuring the father with her eyes that it was okay.

  Kids were much better about human oddities than teenagers most of the time. They were either fascinated by the difference, which could translate into fear or awe, or they were indifferent to the difference, as though hair on a woman’s body wasn’t anything worth noticing. They usually hadn’t developed the aggressive animosity Kitty sometimes experienced from teenagers and young adults.

  But they also had none of the aggressive politeness that Kitty sometimes experienced from the older adults—the avoidance of eye contact, pretending like she wasn’t different or didn’t exist, only to stare after her when they thought she wasn’t looking. Kids exclaimed about her difference without any inhibition, to the horror and frantic shushing of their parents. That sort of reaction, though, only taught children to keep differences silenced.

  It was a simple matter to teach them etiquette of kindness that they could use for anyone, not just oddities, rather than etiquette of silence. After all, who knew what the little pumpkin girl might grow up to be, what kind of differences she might encounter or develop herself?

  “Did you notice how I asked you whether I could pick you up before I did it?” Kitty said.

  Gabriella nodded, eyes wide as she stared at the braids in Kitty’s beard, the hair over her shoulders, arms and chest, and the butterfly headdress.

  “That’s because it wouldn’t be nice for me to just pick you up whether you wanted to or not. I let you decide whether you would let me do it,” Kitty said. “It’s the same for other people, pumpkin. If you see someone strange like me, the best thing to do if you want to touch them is to ask their permission first. If they say no, you have to respect that and not touch them. Most of them are going to say no, because people don’t like strangers touching them any more than you do. But if they say yes, you can ask what they’ll let you do. Do you understand that, sweetie?”

  “I shouldn’t have pulled your hair without asking?” Gabriella said.

  “That’s right. I don’t like it when people pull my hair without asking.” On a hunch, she glanced over at the father from under her eyelashes. The incubus and succubus sex magic had expanded to include the haunted park, since there was more overlap between the park and the circus than usual. The flush on his face and the dilation of his brown eyes wasn’t solely from magic, though—all the magic did was enhance feelings that were already there.

  She lowered her gaze to his left hand. No wedding ring.

  “Can you apologize to Miss Kitty, princess?” the father said.

  “Sorry for pulling your hair, Miss Kitty,” Gabriella said.

  Kitty booped Gabriella’s nub of a nose. “That’s all right, pumpkin. Now, I’m not like other people, because you can touch my hair with my permission. You want to pet my beard, sweetie? Don’t worry. It’s soft, not rough.”

  “Like Uncle Jimmy’s cheeks,” Gabriella said. “Scratchy.”

  Kitty held Gabriella’s hand and taught her how to stroke the hair on her face without being too rough, just like Gabriella’s father had probably taught her how to pet a cat.

  Gabriella giggled when she made Kitty’s beaded beard braids swing. Some people walking by took pictures of the cute tableau, but Kitty gave Gabriella her attention and subtly turned her back on them. Gabriella hadn’t agreed to the photo-taking.

  “See? Soft like a kitty,” Kitty said. “What have we learned today, Gabriella?”

  “That I should ask permission before I touch,” Gabriella said. “Just like in stores with breakable things in them.”

  “Exactly. Very good,” Kitty said. She whirled Gabriella around for one exhilarating moment then set her down.

  “Thank you,” the father said softly.

  “My pleasure,” Kitty replied. It could have been innocuous, except for the eye contact.

  The man licked his lips. He was cute when he was nervous. His glasses made her think of an accountant, but he looked good under his thin T-shirt, and he knew it, otherwise he wouldn’t have worn something so thin. She thought he’d have a nice ass when he turned around.

  Kitty looked back down at Gabriella. “And it was a pleasure to meet you, too, pumpkin. Have a happy, happy Halloween.”

  “Sorry,” his older daughter added. “I thought Dad was watching her. She slipped away from my hand only for a minute.”

  “It’s all right. Children are slippery, crafty little munchkins,” Kitty said.

  “Can I get a picture with you, though?” the older daughter asked. “My friends are going to flip.”

  “Absolutely,” Kitty said. She leaned in with her hand on the older daughter’s upper back to brace herself. “Don’t forget to tag Arcanium and Pretty Kitty. And I encourage you to visit Arcanium. We’ve got all the curiosities, marvels and oddities you could ask for.”

  “I heard there were some awesome performances at night,” the older daughter replied. “Everyone’s talking about it.”

  “Arcanium is open to all during the first performance at seven-thirty, but the later performance at ten is still eighteen and older because of the nature of some of the acts,” Kitty said. “Many of our people perform variations of their act on the carnival grounds all day as well, and you’ll see things there that aren’t in the ring.”

  “Can I go, Dad?” the older daughter asked. “Meet you there later?”

  “Is it okay for her to take Gabriella with her?” the
father asked Kitty.

  “There’s nothing you might not see on a somewhat strange beach,” Kitty said. “Some of our oddities are sensual in nature, but I don’t think she’ll understand that, and during fall and winter, they do cover themselves more, especially with their Halloween costumes.”

  “Can you take your sister, Dani?” the father asked his oldest daughter. “You’ll need to hold her hand more tightly this time.”

  Dani made a big show of exasperation, but she couldn’t quite hide the small smile as she rolled her eyes. “Sure, Dad. Whatever.”

  The father handed his daughter fifty dollars in fives and waved after them as Dani led her sister toward the circus, glancing back a few times with the protective wariness that was natural for a daughter to feel. Gabriella waved back to her dad and to Kitty, who also raised her hand to the little girl.

  “Thank you again,” the man said. He held out his hand. “James Dillon. Gaby’s out of the putting-things-into-her-mouth phase now that she can do more than toddle, but she’s still curious and has no sense of boundaries.”

  “She’s a sweetheart,” Kitty said.

  “Do you have any of your own?” James asked.

  When Kitty hesitated, James immediately backpedaled, perhaps sensing for all the wrong reasons—and probably some of the right ones—that this was a sensitive issue for her.

  “No, I don’t have any children,” Kitty said. “But I like them. They’re more honest than adults. And most of them aren’t disgusted by me.”

  “Do people really react like that, showing you disgust?” James asked.

  James probably didn’t even realize the things he implied through his word choices, but Kitty was used to the implications by now, and James’ intentions were good. He was trying, poor soul.

  “They do,” Kitty said. “Not as much when I’m in the circus or here during the Halloween festivals, though. When you think about it, Halloween is the one time of year where I can walk around being myself.”

  “Because they think it’s just a good costume,” James said.

  “Exactly. Anyway, I don’t have kids, and with the life I lead, I probably won’t. Your daughter is adorable, though.”

  “I appreciate it. They’re good kids, the both of them.” James looked down at his shoes.

  “You can ask, James. Especially here where I’m paid to answer questions,” Kitty encouraged.

  “Is it just a costume? Some elaborate character that you’ve created, like the actors at a Renaissance festival?” he asked. “Or is it all real?”

  “It’s real, James,” Kitty said. “It’s a congenital condition, not something I can take off at the end of the day.”

  “Does…does it suck?” he asked.

  “Everything sucks sometimes,” Kitty said.

  She slowly rested her hand on his shoulder, giving him time to refuse her, but he didn’t. His lips parted a little as she massaged the muscles there. When he looked up from his feet, his gaze got caught on her breasts.

  “It doesn’t always,” she added. “I’m a woman like any other woman in many ways, and that sometimes sucks too, as you might imagine. However, most of the time I don’t even notice the hair on my body the way you’re noticing it now. It’s hard to ignore the beard, yes, and it’s hard to ignore all the hair growing three times as fast as normal from my head. But my life isn’t miserable, if that’s what you’re asking. Far from it. Would you like to learn more, James?”

  “What…um, what do you mean?” James asked, but when Kitty slipped her hand into his, he didn’t resist. He seemed stunned by her, rendered stupid by the magic that latched itself to whatever natural lust had arisen and the curiosity that ran like an undercurrent through that lust.

  One curious man at a time. Curiosity killed cats, according to the proverb. But satisfaction brought them back, and genuine curiosity had been very generous to Kitty over the years. James was so damn cute trying to keep it together while she flirted with every subtle shift of her body and the not-so-subtle caress of her thumb over the back of his hand.

  “I’m asking if you’re interested in going someplace more private so that we can explore the things about me you can’t stop looking at,” Kitty murmured near his ear.

  She turned and started walking away, loosening her hold on his hand. Before she had to let go, he jolted from his bewildered stupor.

  “I have a van,” James said. “It’s…private. It’s in the parking lot.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Kitty said. She released his hand and started walking toward the front of the park. The thrill at a new prospect—especially with a nice, attractive man like James—bubbled up in her like shaken champagne, cold and hot up and down her spine in turns.

  “Are you serious?” James asked, catching up to her.

  “It’s part of my responsibility, James, to show people that strange isn’t such a bad thing,” Kitty said.

  They took the back way around, weaving between the buildings and booths of the theme park so that Kitty could get them out as quickly as possible and with fewer people stopping her. She tossed the little bit of coffee left into one of the trashcans on the way.

  “I didn’t say strange was bad,” James said. He seemed surprised that he was out of breath while Kitty still had breath to spare, even with her corset.

  “You’re attracted to me. I can tell. But when it occurred to you that this was all real, you were repulsed, and it showed. Don’t worry, it’s a normal reaction.”

  She whipped around after they’d passed through the exit to the park. She didn’t worry about getting back in. The ticket staff knew about Arcanium and its oddities. If she had to, she could show them her picture in the brochure. And James would have an all-day ticket.

  “Tell me the truth, James. When you thought this was a costume, you were turned on, weren’t you?” Kitty said.

  “Yes.”

  She hooked a finger in the belt loop of his jeans and drew him along toward the cars in the field parking lot.

  “So when you thought I had makeup and latex prosthetics, fake hair, maybe a wig, that was okay for you to want. But when you realized it was real, that made it somehow disgusting?” Kitty asked.

  “It wasn’t disgusting,” James protested. “I was surprised that other people…”

  “That other people admitted to me that they found me disgusting?” Kitty asked. “I do get some negative reactions about the beard. I’ll give you that one. But the hair on my body…you’re going to find out how nice that feels under your palms, against your skin.”

  “Oh my God, is this really happening?” James asked, his eyes glazing. Now he finally led the way, which was helpful because Kitty didn’t know where he’d parked his van.

  “You ever been seduced by a bearded lady before, James?” Kitty asked as he unlocked his van with a loud beep. Once she figured out which one it was, she hooked his belt loop again, yanking him around to crowd him against the van door.

  “Can’t say that I have,” James said. He fumbled with the sliding door, pushing it to make the automatic track move faster.

  She giggled as she climbed into the middle seat with him, pulling the door lever to close it behind her. She brazenly straddled his lap, exposing her bare legs on either side of him. The arrangement brought her cleavage right up to his eye level. Anyone walking by for that few seconds would witness a man being smothered by a furry woman’s breasts. Then the door clicked shut, and the tinted windows hid most of the details, at least through the back windows. People could still see through the front from the right angles. James didn’t seem to care at that moment, and neither did Kitty.

  “God, you’ve got great tits,” he groaned. He slid his hands up her corset to take them in his hands, squeezing the nipples up over the cups of the corset. “You were right. The hair’s soft. Softer than mine.”

  “Yours is just fine,” she said, running her fingers down his forearms, enjoying the silky natural fur typical for many men.

  Then she pulle
d his hands away from her breasts by the wrists and pushed them against the back of the seat. The implication was clear. Don’t move.

  He stared up at her with the kind of worship that Kitty relished. It wasn’t only from the exotic possibility of sleeping with an oddity, although that was part of it. Sometimes it was just the look of a guy about to get laid and grateful—as he should be—rather than entitled.

  Kitty undid the decorative hooks on the front of her corset bodice. It was a costume corset, no laces necessary, which made for easy access. She parted the corset and let it fall on the seat next to him. James exhaled in a cool, rushing swirl over her bare nipples then gasped in a deep breath as though he’d forgotten how to breathe.

  She petted the reddish hair on her belly, smoothing with the grain before sliding her hands up to her breasts, cupping them with relish.

  “Can I touch?” he asked.

  Kitty wrinkled her nose in delight. “He can be taught. Touch me, James. Touch me all over. Make this Kitty purr.”

  He caressed her back in broad strokes as he lifted his chin to kiss her, the tentative first kisses of a pair unsure of their chemistry, chaste kisses that lost their purity only when Kitty sucked his lower lip into her mouth. He let out a little moan, but he pulled back slightly.

  “The beard’s a little weird to get used to,” he said apologetically. “It’s not bad,” he felt compelled to add.

  “It’s an acquired taste. That’s all right, James.” She took his face in her hands and smiled softly, kindly. “There’s plenty we can do without kissing.”

  She cradled the back of his head as he pressed another apology against her shoulder. He kissed his way to her neck, leaving a wet trail in his wake and another wet clenching of arousal inside her.

  Kitty ran her hands over the front of his thin shirt. It was just as soft as she’d anticipated, eminently touchable. She didn’t even want to take it off for the skin underneath—the height of a compliment for a piece of clothing. It didn’t matter. She could feel his body just fine through it.