Operation Burlesque BBW Romance

by Michelle Fox

  I hustled over to the tiny RV fridge and pulled out some ice. Wrapping it in a towel, I pressed it against her temple. “How did you hit your head?”

  “My head?” She looked at me, confused. “I didn’t hit my head. It’s just a migraine.” She put her hand over the towel and held the ice in place.

  Stan and I exchanged equally serious looks. This was beyond bad. It was a catastrophe. Lilli was one of the circus’ main attractions. The media called her the New Queen of Burlesque and she’d starred in everything from music videos to her own calendar. She was the pin-up star of my generation and I’d about died from happiness when we first met. I’d made more than one sewing pattern inspired by her.

  Stan cleared his throat. “You may not know this Ruby, but if Lilli doesn’t perform tonight, she’ll forfeit her earnings for the entire run.”

  “That’s terrible,” I said. “Can they really do that to you?”

  She nodded. “I’ll lose everything. The trailer, our new show, everything.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

  I wanted to cry with her. She was my next job and, if she went bust, so did I. The plan was to go out west and launch a burlesque review after the cirque closed. She’d asked me to be the costume designer, which was a serious promotion for me. We’d been discussing the details for months.

  Stan gave me a meaningful look. “But, if she can provide an acceptable understudy, the contract holds.”

  Lilli’s green eyes pleaded with me as the meaning of his words sank in. I knew where this was going.

  “You mean me, right? You want me to perform?” I felt hot and cold all at once. “I’m not a professional dancer.” Yes, I’d been learning all her routines, but mostly so I understood how the costumes needed to move during a striptease. I didn’t want to design anything that would take Houdini’s talents to escape. In striptease, wardrobe malfunctions were when the clothes wouldn’t come off.

  “You’re just as good as me,” Lilli said earnestly.

  I rolled my eyes. We’d had this discussion many times before where Lilli tried to convince me I could dance burlesque and I refused to believe her. Studying burlesque as a costume designer and being any good at it were two different things in my book.

  She gave me an encouraging smile.“You know the routine. My costumes will fit.”

  I nodded, reluctantly conceding she was right. I did know the routine and we were the same size. I’d enjoyed passing the time learning burlesque, and, yes, once or twice, I wondered what it would be like to perform. I’d always been too big to be seen, but meeting Lilli had shown me a different take on my size. ‘We’re not big, we’re lush, dear’ she’d said to me once when I’d expressed some reservations about stripping down to pasties and a thong. Going that far in front of just her had been bad enough. The idea of an audience was...terrifying.

  “I’m not you on stage,” I whispered.

  “That’s right, you’re you and you are amazing.” She reached out and gave my hand a squeeze. She believed in me. Probably an unfortunate side effect of almost cracking her skull open.

  “I don’t know. I can’t...” I closed my eyes, trying to process everything. It was too damn early for this. I hadn’t even had any coffee yet. Let alone breakfast. Where was the pause button when you needed it?

  A siren sounded in the distance. The ambulance was coming, as if the universe had heard my plea for a pause and answered me with a fast forward.

  “You’ll lose your insurance won’t you?” I opened my eyes and looked at Lilli. She was paler than usual, her expression anxious. Normally she was all about the glamour, even off stage, but for the first time since we’d met, there wasn’t a speck of glitter on her.

  She nodded. “Everything.”

  I didn’t understand how someone so famous didn’t have any money, but from what little Lilli had said, she hadn’t hit a big payday yet. The Cirque contract was her first real job after gaining some notoriety. She’d agonized over how to spend her money wisely--I knew this because she constantly second-guessed herself--and had settled on the trailer and the show, but now that was about to go poof. Unless... I blinked trying to scrub the thought from my mind. My brain responded to my attempt at denial by helpfully producing a mental picture of me on stage in front of a booing audience.

  Oh god.

  “Please, Ruby.” We looked at each other and I knew I was going to do it. We were friends. She was my meal ticket, too. If she went down, so did I. Besides, with her head injury, she needed insurance. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t help her.

  Oh god, oh god, oh god.

  “I’ll do it.” My words came out in jerky little gasps. I’d wanted them to sound smooth and confident, like Lilli. Instead I sounded like a scared little girl.

  Stan arched a bushy eyebrow at me.

  “I can do it,” I said in response to his unspoken doubts. “The only thing is, I’ll need some help with the costume maintenance.” I couldn’t stitch everyone else up and prepare for my stage debut. Something had to give.

  Stan stared at me for a long moment, weighing his options. With a curt nod, he finally said, “The performers can do some sewing in a pinch. I’ll let them know.” With that, he brushed past me and out the door, muttering something about ‘the last show curse’ under his breath.

  Not long after that, the ambulance pulled up. If anyone had still been asleep, they weren’t anymore. Doors opened and slammed shut as the circus gathered to see what the emergency was. I motioned the paramedics into Lilli’s RV and quickly packed a bag for her to take with her.

  As the paramedics loaded her into the back of the ambulance, she looked down at me and winked. “You’re going to be fabulous, Ruby. It’ll be magic.” Always over-the-top she made a gesture with full on jazz hands. Not even pain could stop her from keeping it Broadway.

  I rolled my eyes. “Is that another way of saying barely adequate?”

  “You, my darling girl, are going to shine. Wait and see. I know these things.” She tapped her head and then winced as she made contact with her goose egg.

  “We’re almost ready to go, m’am,” said one of the paramedics. He was a clean cut blond with well-defined muscles. I could tell from the way he looked at Lilli that she’d made another conquest even without make-up and a lump on her face that looked like she was trying to hatch something from her brain. She had natural charm and few people didn’t fall under her spell.

  Lilli nodded that she’d heard him and said to me, “Take care of the RV, will you?”

  “Of course. I’ll hold down the fort until you’re better.” After tonight’s performance everyone would go their separate ways. The cirque management would return to their home in upstate New York while the acts moved on to the next show. Lilli and I had planned to do a week on a beach south of LA while she set up audition venues, but now we would stay put until she was well enough to travel. Except for Lilli’s company, I didn’t love the RV lifestyle, but just then its flexibility came in handy.

  “Thank, you, doll. “ She held up her phone. “Text me after the show, okay?”

  I snorted. “You want the blow-by-blow of my humiliation?”

  She frowned. “No, your triumph.” When I didn’t say anything, she gave an impatient shake of her head. “Darling, I didn’t teach you my routines just so you could make costumes. No, I saw something in you. A spark. A little light wanting to burn, not fizzle. You think the spotlight is only so the audience can see you, but it also lets you finally see yourself. Tonight you’ll know who you really are.”

  After that cryptic statement, the paramedics jumped into the ambulance and slammed the doors shut. I watched the vehicle lumber out of the lot, a chill working its way up my spine. The world was whirling out of control under my feet and it made my stomach lurch like I was going to be sick.

  Chapter Three

  I fidgeted off-stage as I watched Blake perform his last magic trick. The audience was enraptured with him as usual, especially the women. I sympath
ized with their sighs and gasps of pleasure as I’d been suppressing mine for the last several months.

  Tonight, however, I allowed him to distract me. Just this once, I didn’t fight the tingle that ran through me at the way his bicep flexed as he pulled a rose out of the ether. When he bent over to bestow the bloom on a lucky audience member, I bit my lip at the sight of his backside.

  If only he wasn’t wearing pants...

  He turned, as if he’d heard my thought, and caught sight of me. There was a tiny little pause as he contemplated my presence, but I doubted anyone in the audience noticed. Having watched his show from this very spot for the last six months, I caught his flub though. I had surprised him.

  Or blinded him, I thought ruefully looking down at my costume. Normally I wore all black like the rest of the crew backstage, but now Lilli’s sequin spackled outfit squeezed me tight. With all the bling, I probably reflected light like a mirror.

  He blinked and produced another rose, seamlessly moving forward with his act. Every now and then he snuck a peek at me as if trying to sort out why I was there. Not wanting to disturb him, I stepped further back into the shadows.

  Someone patted me on the shoulder then and whispered, “Break a leg, Ruby.”

  When I turned to see who it was, they were gone. I knew it was just theater slang, but breaking a bone sounded like a great idea. My stomach roiled and I felt hot, like I had a fever. It was a bad case of stage fright flu. I wanted to cut and run, but held my ground through sheer will.

  Why do I have to be such a good friend?

  Because she’s hurt, duh.

  I’d called the hospital and posed as her sister in order to see how she was doing. Her head CT scan had been clear, but she had a serious concussion and would be in the hospital for a few days. The knee would require surgery, but they weren’t sure yet if they would do it asap or schedule it for a later date.

  Loud applause drew my attention back to the stage where Blake had finished his last trick. It was an impressive illusion where he acted the part of a painter painting a rose still life. As he painted, the petals dropped from the real rose and the painting morphed from rose to heart to a silhouette of a lovers’ embrace. Audiences loved it and he often sold the canvas after the show for upwards of five hundred dollars.

  To close his act, Blake gave one last sweeping gesture of his arms and a shower of rose petals rained down on the audience and they erupted into breathy ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs’.

  The house lights then went dark to allow him time to exit the stage. They came back up to reveal our Master of Ceremonies. A rotund bald man, he always did his spiel with a cigar at his lips. He even puffed out smoke rings between words.

  “Ladies and Gentleman that was Blake Cannon and the magic of desire. Now, I’d like to present to you the tease of desire, Miss Lilli Lush. She’s in her first season with the Cirque D’Amour and watch out, she’s pure sin.” He blew out a heart shaped smoke ring, and, as it dissolved, it seemed to take on the hourglass shape of a woman.

  The lights went down again, the audience clapped politely, unsure of what to expect. Music came to life in a blare of sultry saxophone. I adjusted my costume one last time and made for the stage.

  Here goes nothing.

  Just as I was about to step out of the wings, a warm hand reached out and latched onto my forearm. “Ruby,” came the soft masculine voice I recognized as Blake’s.

  I pulled myself free, annoyed. “Not the time, magician.”

  He flipped his hand over and presented me with a rose, smiling when I jumped. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little magic.” He tucked the rose behind my ear and then gave me a little shove toward the stage. “Break a leg.”

  The words followed me out onto the stage as I rushed to make my mark before the lights came on. My mind was a jumble of nerves and confusion at what had just happened. Blake had been an anti-social piece of eye candy for the last six months. So why was he suddenly not only saving me from the road crew, but also talking to me and putting conjured roses in my hair? I shivered at the question, the potential answers tempting me to dream.

  The lights came on in a nova burst that only stage illumination can produce. Momentarily blinded, I struck my starting pose and showed off my costume. The number had me in a fancy ball gown the color of midnight. Sequins and jewels lined the whole thing, capturing the light and fracturing it into an eye dazzling glamour.

  The music was all sass and strumpet, easy to move to. I tried not to look at the audience and concentrated on the thump of the bass, letting my hips bump with its beat. Strutting up to the footlights, I motioned a man from the audience forward. He’d been selected by the ticketing staff before the show started and coached on what to do, but no one else knew that. To outsiders, it all looked very titillating and raised the idea that they, too may be called forth to participate in my striptease. The threat or promise of that heightened the tension in the room nicely. I’d seen Lilli do it a hundred times.

  I held out my hand, extending each finger in turn. The man smiled with glee as he leaned forward to grab the tip of my glove in his teeth. We pulled against each other in time with the music. With my other hand I jerked the glove off my elbow and toward my wrist, doing my best to evoke the double entendre of a hand job.

  “Every movement has to be sexual,” Lilli had said time and time again. She had to say it a lot because my performance lacked in that arena. I wasn’t a sex kitten like Lilli. I had to work at it. She wore her sexuality like an accessory, whereas mine had to be excavated like the most ancient of archeological digs. God only knew how I was going to get through this performance.

  My glove came free and the man took it back to his seat, grinning ear-to-ear in triumph. I saw it off with a forward pelvic thrust. The other glove I removed myself. First, I caressed my arm, rubbing and circling my flesh with my hand, inviting the audience to wonder what it would feel like if they touched me or if I touched them. Then I used my teeth to pull each finger free. The long trumpet note was my cue to arch back, arm held overhead as I pulled the glove off, miming the trumpet player the whole time.

  Standing upright, I twirled the glove and then, taking the other end, pulled it taut to rub between my breasts. This made the audience hoot, although I saw more than one woman cover their mouths in embarrassment.

  “You’re never as naked as the audience,” was another thing Lilli liked to say. She talked about psychology a lot. “Burlesque is all about confronting the pictures in people’s heads with reality. They think they know what to expect, especially with a big, lush girl like me, but I always surprise.”

  I tossed the glove aside. Turning my back to the audience I bent over and raised my skirts a little past my knees. They couldn’t see much through my dress, but imagination was a powerful thing. Just the hint of the roundness of my ass was enough to make their minds spin. Sashaying with the music, I worked the stage as I pulled off my dress. The audience held its collective breath in anticipation and I felt a surge of power from the attention. All eyes were on me, waiting to see what I would do next.

  I’m doing it. I’m really doing it. No one has even booed me yet.

  A little drunk with power, I toyed with them, pulling my sleeve down to reveal the curve of my breast and then back up again. I did it over and over until the audience began to shout and grow restless. Finally I let the silk dress drop. Underneath I wore a corset and a little fringe skirt. Thigh highs gripped my legs. I felt exposed, but nowhere near as nervous as I expected. I was channeling Lilli, my burlesque fairy godmother.

  The stage had worked its magic on me, and I sensed, once I stepped off, I would never be the same. Lilli had been right. For someone who used glitter like she wanted to become a second sun, she had an undeniable wisdom.

  I kicked the dress to the stagehand waiting to catch it in the wings. Then, I strutted across the stage pausing every so many beats to circle my hips, my body’s way of saying ‘you know you want this’. My breathing quickened as I p
ulled the ribbons of my corset loose. With a start, I realized a wet warmth pulsed between my legs. I was turned on.

  I stopped breathing all together as something in the wings caught my attention.

  Blake was there, standing in my hiding spot. The one I’d stood in for months to watch his act. Now he was there and I was in his place. The look on his face was one of intense interest. His eyes burned over my body. We stared at each other, and I was so lost in his gaze I almost forgot to keep dancing. He raised his hands and applauded me silently.

  His approval washed over me in a flush of heat. Somehow I kept going with the act, moving to center stage and pulling the remaining ribbons on my corset loose. What I really wanted to do was rush backstage...whether into his arms or to hide, I couldn’t decide.

  Swallowing hard, I faced the audience and did a shimmy as I cast off the corset. The music was faster now. I had to concentrate to stay on beat. The fringe skirt came off next, leaving me in my bra and a sequined thong. I twirled the fringe skirt around my shoulders like a boa, rubbing and caressing my skin with it. Pulling it up and around, I covered my eyes and face.

  “Now the audience can see your body but they can’t see your soul. You’re still hidden from them,” Lilli had explained to me. She’d made me watch YouTube clips of other burlesque dancers using this technique. It effectively maintained suspense even though the dancer was practically naked.

  “Covering the eyes means you’re holding back, that you’re still in control, not them. Never give them all of you. Always hold something back.”

  I peeked out between the fringe, flirting. The audience was really worked up now, whistling and cat calling in response to my striptease. Their adulation was a heady rush. Between the crowd and Blake, I was alive with frenetic energy that seemed to thump through me in time with the music. Desire tightened my belly as I thought of the darkly handsome magician.

  Did my act make me desirable? Was he standing back there filled with lust watching me? At the thought, I cast my attention backstage and thrust my hips at him as if to ask ‘you want this?’ I was no skinny Minnie. I was a full-bodied woman with hips and breasts that threatened to spill out of any bra I tried to contain them in. Nothing could hold me back. Once unleashed, I would be a force to be reckoned with, my curves unstoppable. Blake’s eyes locked with mine and he gave a slow nod in acknowledgement.