“Not trapped,” she assured herself. “This isn’t like the funhouse. You can get out easily.” She turned around and glanced at the opening behind her to reassure herself.
Still, she couldn’t go another step until she tried. Wrapping her hand around the canvas, she pulled it back. The young woman outside gave her a quizzical smile. “Everything okay?”
Feeling silly, Aimee nodded. “Fine. I thought I dropped something when I got out my tickets.” It was a lame excuse, but it was all she could think of at the moment. “I must have been mistaken.” She gave the girl a smile, which felt forced and phony, and dropped the flap back down.
Now that she’d established she could leave any time she wanted to, Aimee began to explore. The tent was divided into smaller areas by canvas walls. She stepped up to the first opening and relaxed when she realized there were several other people already watching the performance. A burly man with graying hair and a handlebar mustache lowered a flaming stick toward his mouth. He shoved the stick inside and then quickly removed the flame. Everyone in the small group clapped.
She couldn’t wait to see what he did with the swords of varying lengths propped up behind him. Sure enough, a long, sharp blade came next. The performer opened his mouth, tipped back his head and slid the sword down his throat. It disappeared until only the hilt remained. The audience gasped. The man withdrew the sword and took a small bow.
Aimee watched for a few more minutes before moving on. In the next performance area, a woman lifted her leg straight into the air before tucking it behind her head. She lowered it back to the ground and then did the same with her other leg. Aimee winced as she watched the woman twist herself into positions she hadn’t thought were humanly possible. The performer began to use several hoops in her act. At one point, she swung hoops with both feet as she used just one hand to support her weight. Aimee watched, amazed by the versatility and flexibility of the human body, until the woman finished with her routine.
Further on, the knife-thrower was well into his performance. He tossed knives at his assistant, a pretty young woman, as casually as one would toss a stone into a lake. Aimee didn’t know if the woman was brave or stupid, but she didn’t flinch as the sharp blades were flung her way. Aimee didn’t linger here long, unable to watch. She didn’t have quite as much faith in the knife-thrower as his assistant did.
Across the aisle, a man of indeterminate age was performing magic tricks for a small crowd. He produced flowers from thin air and made a coin disappear. The performance was good, but magic tricks didn’t really interest Aimee. She scanned the audience and sighed. Still no sign of Sandra.
Retreating deeper into the tent, Aimee noticed a sandwich-board sign, which announced the fortuneteller’s area was next. The entrance was closed and she could hear the low murmur of voices coming from the other side of the canvas. Aimee assumed that must mean someone was in there having their fortune told.
Now that would appeal to Sandra. She was into all kinds of metaphysical stuff, constantly asking Aimee about her nightmares and offering suggestions as to what they all might mean. She’d never told her friend about her dreams of the white tiger, and she certainly wasn’t about to tell her about her sensual dream from last night. That was too personal to share even with her closest friend.
Aimee decided to hang around outside for a few minutes just in case Sandra was inside. If she wasn’t, Aimee was going to give the fairgrounds one more turn before heading back to the car to wait. She could always sit on the hood even if she couldn’t get inside the vehicle.
She glanced at her watch. It was just past nine. It was hard to believe that almost two hours had passed since they’d arrived. Aimee didn’t quite know where the time had gone. She must have watched some of the performers for longer than she’d thought. It was easy to get caught up in their acts. They were really quite incredible, and she’d enjoyed them more than she’d thought she would.
But no matter how enthralling the acts were, or how glitzy they seemed, the performers were just people who would be tired and cranky tomorrow morning just like everyone else. Beneath the glare of the lights and the pounding rhythm of the music lay a lonely existence. It couldn’t be easy to always be on the road, performing night after night in small towns across the country, and maybe even around the world. What was exciting and exotic tonight would reveal itself to be worn-out and tawdry in the morning’s light. It was the shadows that helped with the illusion.
The tent seemed to be much gloomier at this end, but there were several more openings. Intrigued, Aimee started toward them. She’d have a quick peek but keep an eye on the fortuneteller’s door. It wouldn’t do for her to miss Sandra after she’d searched for so long.
A dim light shone from an opening on the left. Aimee walked over and waited for her eyes to adjust. At first she couldn’t see anything. A movement off to her right caught her eye, and she turned her head.
A feeling of foreboding pressed down on her, weakening her knees. She grabbed a tent post, grateful for its strength and support. Suddenly she didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to see what was lurking just beyond. The shadows seemed menacing. But it was as if she had no control over her movements. Her head continued to turn until she was looking in the far corner.
Situated beneath a red spotlight was a large platform that seemed to have some kind of large padding or mattress on it. Several people were lying on it. All of them were naked.
Aimee swallowed hard. Sweat dotted her brow as she tried to back away but, as they had in her nightmares, her feet wouldn’t obey her command. Her fingers tightened around the tent post, her nails digging into the wood.
There was such a tangle of limbs that at first she couldn’t tell exactly how many people there were on the large platform bed, but there seemed to be several men and at least one woman. Of that she was certain.
The longer she looked, the more the erotic tableau came into focus. One man gripped a handful of the woman’s blonde hair, dragging her head back and holding her captive as he kissed her. The woman’s moan of pleasure seemed to echo off the thick canvas walls. Another man feasted on the woman’s ample breasts, licking and sucking at them until her nipples were red and her skin damp.
Aimee’s breathing was getting shallower with each passing moment. Sexual energy pulsed around her like a living, breathing thing. Her breasts began to tingle and her panties grew damp. She was getting aroused watching them.
She tried to look away, hating the fact that she was a voyeur to such a personal act. The fact that it was turning her on bothered her deeply. But she couldn’t turn away from the sight unfolding in front of her. It was as if her will was no longer her own.
A third man shoved the woman’s legs apart and buried his face against her core, sucking and licking. The woman shoved her hips toward him and he laughed, pulling away and sitting back on his heels. He grabbed the woman’s hips and dragged her down onto his enormous erection. The woman screamed and then moaned as the man pounded into her.
Aimee wanted to leave. Tried to leave. But she couldn’t seem to make her muscles work. She tried to shift her leg even one inch. Nothing. They wouldn’t respond no matter how hard she tried. She closed her eyes, but it did no good. In her mind’s eye, she could still see the group on the bed.
A satisfied male groan filled the air.
Aimee’s eyes flew open. The group had shifted position while she hadn’t been watching. The woman was now on her hands and knees, breasts jiggling and hips pumping as two men fucked her. One of the men was beneath her, his erection sliding in and out of her sex at a rapid rate. The second man was on his hands and knees behind her. Grasping her hips in his large hands, he grunted hard as he drove his cock into her ass. The third man was kneeling just to the side and had dragged the woman’s head lower so she could suck on his shaft while the other two men fucked her.
A low, throaty laugh emanated from the group. Horror filled Aimee. She knew that laugh. As if the woman could read her thoughts,
she let the man’s erection slip from between her lips. She turned her head and her face came into view for the first time. Rich, red lips curved up into a smile. “Why don’t you join us?”
Aimee gasped and stumbled back. It couldn’t be. Not Sandra. Shaking her head, she backed away, tripping over a peg holding one of the ropes in place. Whatever force had been holding her here had been broken. They knew she was here. Had known all along.
She tried to catch herself, to gain her balance, but it was too late. She fell, coming down hard on her behind. By the time she scrambled to her feet, the tent was dark. There was no sign of Sandra or the men who’d been pleasuring her. The platform bed had disappeared.
Her breath was coming in short, hard pants. She felt dizzy, was afraid she might pass out. She forced herself to breathe more slowly, to think. “I must be losing my mind.”
There was no way she could have imagined that. Was there? Had she fallen into some kind of waking dream? Feeling light-headed, Aimee started toward the entrance. She had to leave. Had to get out of this place.
Whatever was going on here, it wasn’t right. Aimee had a sense that something wrong permeated the carnival, like some malevolent specter lurking just beneath the glossy facade. The place had given her the creeps from the moment she’d set foot on the grounds, but she’d ignored those feelings to please her friend.
Or maybe she was the problem. Maybe she was slipping over the edge of sanity and into the realm of her nightmares when she was awake. She shuddered at the thought and glanced at her surroundings to get her bearings.
Aimee came to an abrupt halt, totally disoriented. There was no center aisle behind her. She was alone, all the other people and performers had disappeared. The fortuneteller’s area was nowhere to be found.
Aimee peered around what appeared to be some other smaller performance area. “That’s impossible,” she whispered, trying desperately to remain calm. Where was everyone? Her heart pounded as she took a step forward. There had to be an entrance somewhere near.
Eyes suddenly glowed in the darkness—large, red eyes, just like the ones from her nightmares. She wasn’t exactly in an underground cave, but the feeling was similar. It felt as though the walls were beginning to close in around her.
Aimee blinked several times to clear her vision. There had to be a logical explanation for everything. There weren’t any eyes watching her. It was probably just security lights. The sideshow had simply closed while she’d fallen into some kind of waking dream or hallucination or whatever it was, and lost track of time.
She glanced at her watch and gasped. It was almost midnight. Somehow she’d lost over two and a half hours. The carnival was certainly closed, and Sandra would have gotten tired of waiting and surely left by now.
Aimee swallowed and checked her watch again, squinting in the dim light to see the dial. How had this happened? There was no easy answer. She’d have to think about everything that had occurred tonight, but not until she was safe at home.
The main problem to deal with now was to find a way out of this canvas maze and start the long trek home. She didn’t fancy walking down the lonely, deserted roads at night, but it wasn’t as if she had any other choice. Sandra had probably assumed she’d found a way home earlier in the evening with a neighbor. Her friend was going to be pissed with her, thinking she’d been abandoned.
That was almost funny considering how long she’d been searching for Sandra, but Aimee wasn’t laughing. Her left leg ached, and she was more than a little scared. This entire evening had been like something from a horror movie. “Fodder for your work,” she muttered to herself. “Now find a way out.”
The sound of footsteps echoed off to her right. Swallowing hard, she took a step back. “Who’s there? This isn’t funny.”
As if to mock her, laughter rang around her, bombarding her from all sides. It grew louder and louder. She slapped her hands over her ears and stumbled off to her left. She had to find a way out. A bright light flickered up ahead and she lurched toward it. Maybe it was the exit.
At the last second, she drew up short, not willing to just rush in. She didn’t trust this place or the people who ran it.
Reaching out, she cautiously drew back the canvas flap, giving a nervous glance over her shoulder. No one appeared to be following her. The footsteps and the laughter had faded as quickly as they’d begun. She took a breath and stepped inside.
Chapter Four
The room before her was enormous, almost as if it were a large tent on its own. And perhaps it was. Because of the dim lighting, it was impossible to tell how many tents were connected in this maze of canvas.
Aimee gasped at the sight in front of her and found her feet moving of their own accord. She’d never seen anything quite this beautiful in her entire life. Her fears and misgivings were momentarily forgotten as a sense of wonder and anticipation swept over her.
Spotlighted in the center of the canvas room was a beautiful antique carousel. It was an ornate masterpiece from a bygone era. The base and the top were heavily carved with curlicues and spirals. It was fanciful and gorgeous, exactly what a carousel should be.
There were four carved and painted animals anchored to the base of the carousel. But there were also several empty spots, which meant there had been more at some earlier date. Obviously the ride had been damaged at some point and that’s why it wasn’t available for the public.
The crowds of people who visited the carnival were missing out on a gem. The carousel was exquisite, a work of art. Aimee slowly circled it, admiring each of the animals in turn. A bear, lion and wolf all sat poised and ready for someone to sit on them. They were huge animals, big enough for an adult, and so lifelike she almost expected the lion to roar and the wolf to howl.
But it was the gigantic white tiger that drew and held her attention. It was exactly like the one from her dreams, exactly like the one she’d seen in the funhouse earlier this evening.
White tigers weren’t completely white—the fur was interspersed with a pattern of black bands. This one had bands that hugged its muscular body and fiercely handsome face. Its blue eyes seemed to pierce the darkness like glowing sapphires. It sat low on its haunches, muscles coiled and ready to jump. “Aren’t you gorgeous,” she whispered as she stepped closer.
She had no idea why she was whispering. She appeared to be completely alone. But there was something special, almost magical, about being in the presence of something so magnificent.
Aimee knew she had to get out of here and go home. She had to call Sandra and explain what had happened. Well, maybe not everything. There was no need to tell her friend about the erotic vision she’d had featuring Sandra as the star. That was just too weird.
There had to be some logical explanation for all the strange things she’d seen and experienced. Once again, she toyed with the idea that maybe she’d had a hallucination of some kind and imagined the whole thing. She’d certainly never thought about her friend being part of a ménage a trois before. Aimee wasn’t quite certain what it was called when there were more than three people. Maybe a ménage a quatre?
Whatever it was called, Aimee knew she wouldn’t forget it any time soon. She wouldn’t be surprised if her friend had done something like that in her lifetime. Sandra was an incredibly beautiful woman and not shy about admitting she enjoyed sex and all its variations.
That had to be it. For whatever reason, Aimee had dropped into a waking dream and her wild imagination had taken over. Perhaps it was due to the erotic dream she’d had last night. She was probably projecting those thoughts onto her friend.
She glanced around the tent, relaxing slightly when she assured herself she was still alone. It was just her and the carousel. She had to see it up close before she left. There would never be another opportunity for her to do so as there was no way she was coming back to the carnival.
And the carousel was a thing of beauty. It sat there looking forlorn and forgotten, and it called to her in ways she couldn’t explai
n. She had to get closer. She bit her bottom lip and kept glancing over her shoulder as she crept toward it. The white-and-red paint and gold gilding was chipped and fading on the top and base, but the animals themselves appeared to be maintained in perfect condition. Slowly, she circled the ride again, this time studying each animal in turn.
She eyed the wolf’s flank. The muscles rippled as though the creature was in mid-stride. The beast’s mouth was open in a silent snarl, sharp white teeth threatening. This was no softened version of an animal, but the creature at its most wild and elemental.
“I wouldn’t want to make you angry,” she murmured as she walked on without touching the wolf. Somehow, she had the impression he didn’t want to be touched. Which was crazy.
“No crazier than the rest of this night’s been.”
There was an empty space beside the wolf. A small metal label bolted next to it read serpent. Aimee shivered, wondering what a giant serpent would look like. Maybe it was more dragon-like than serpent. But she’d never know.
Another empty space appeared. This one also had a metal label, which read jaguar. A pity that one was gone. She would have liked to see a larger-than-life jaguar. She imagined he’d be very impressive with his sleek, muscular body, sharp teeth and strong jaws.
She stepped up to the next animal and read the label bolted next to one of its massive front paws. “Brown bear,” she whispered. The beast was massive, his fur a combination of brown, blond and black. Powerful and commanding, this was the king of the forest. Hesitantly, Aimee reached out and stroked the tips of her fingers over its thick hindquarters. Fur brushed against her fingers. She could almost swear she’d felt a ripple of muscles.
“Impossible,” she breathed. It was carved from wood, wasn’t it? She peered closer. It looked like wood, and yet when she touched the fur it felt incredibly real. Shaking her hand, she moved on.
Night of the Tiger (Hades' Carnival) Page 5
