Circus Excite

by Nikki Magennis

  Instead of grabbing for her tits, though, he was reaching for the tap. Before she knew what was happening, Julia felt the sudden shock of icy water explode over her breasts, making her nipples shrink to rock-hard points as Joe reached round and plunged his hands into the stream of water, groping for her nipples and tweaking them hard. It was an unbelievable dual feeling, the numbing cold of the water combined with the strong pressure of Joe’s fingers. Rivulets of water ran down her front, trickling into the cleft between her legs and soaking the front of her skirt. The sudden freezing splashes of water made her skin tighten with goosebumps and her heart pound even harder. Julia thought she might pass out with the intensity of the sensations, and was only dimly aware of reaching down to frig her clit, feeling the cold dampness of her wet clothes contrasting with the heat under her hand and the insistent thump of Joe’s hips against hers as he drove his cock into her as deep and hard as he could. Feeling herself on the brink of oblivion, she looked up desperately, to see Robert standing beside them, calmly studying the look on her face. In the mirror, she could see her own frantic, wild expression as she broke apart, the vivid hot pink of her bra pushed aside and the exuberant cascade of water still gushing from the taps and spilling over her front.

  She couldn’t prevent the cry escaping from her throat, never mind who might walk in on them. She felt as if she was being broken into a thousand pieces and fizzing like the explosive water from the taps as she came. She wasn’t even aware of Joe’s grunts as he pulled his cock out of her and came all over her back, hearing his guttural expletives as though they were made by someone a million miles away.

  Sinking onto the cold china, she was letting the shattered fragments of her mind come back together as Robert leant in and quietly turned off the taps.

  He disappeared, giving Joe time to straighten up and take a few deep breaths, before coming back with a handful of tissues and giving them to Joe.

  ‘Clean up with these. We’d better get back on the road ASAP.’

  Joe nodded dumbly, turning to wipe Julia’s back as she lay still sprawled over the sink, panting and confused. How the hell could Robert be so cool? Didn’t he have any hormones? What would it take to get him to touch her?

  ‘The storm’s approaching. We need to be in Birmingham by three.’ Robert turned to leave, already pulling his car keys from his pocket.

  ‘Oh, Joe, I almost forgot.’

  ‘Yes?’ Joe’s voice was shaky and hoarse.

  ‘Drive safely.’

  8

  RUMOURS HAD STARTED by the time they reached Birmingham. Joe’s truck finally pulled onto the site to find the troupe already working frantically to raise the tent before the rain started. Julia noticed eyes turning to watch her as she crossed the grass. Their diversion had not gone unremarked, and Julia realised she would have to tread carefully if she didn’t want to make enemies. The complex and invisible lines of power that criss-crossed the site were a mystery she could only guess at, allegiances and grudges that had been playing out long before she’d arrived. The air was thick and heavy, and her body was limp from the afternoon’s adventure. She wanted a hot bath more than anything, to plunge herself neck deep in scalding water and wash away the clammy sticky residues of lovemaking and humid weather.

  There was no time. The entire circus had still to be put together: the tents and stages; seats and lights; generators; fences; flags and signposts. This time Julia was not spared from the work; she spent the afternoon dragging heavy boxes of equipment from the trucks to the stage. By five o’clock the thunder had started and by six they were working in a monsoon, feet slipping on wet grass that was rapidly churned into mud. Julia worked alongside Sylvie, feeling that she’d be wise to keep out of Robert’s way. Sylvie was working in a check shirt that swamped her tiny frame, hair tied back with a silk scarf and make-up still applied. Julia was quietly amazed at her strength. Though she still moved with insouciant gracefulness, Sylvie could haul weights like an ant. Squaring her shoulders, she draped herself with coils of rope and gave Julia casual instructions, seemingly unaffected by the driving rain and ominous growls of thunder.

  ‘Lift with your knees,’ she snapped briskly when Julia struggled to carry a box of sound equipment. ‘You move like an elephant, girl.’

  Although they’d been sharing a caravan for a week now, Sylvie still referred to Julia as ‘girl’. Usually her dismissive attitude grated on Julia’s nerves, but since Robert had supervised her illicit shag with Joe she felt she had transgressed some boundary, and Sylvie’s blasé insults were reassuringly familiar. She kept her head down and worked as hard as she could, the ice-cold rain soaking her to the skin and the increasingly treacherous ground underfoot forcing her to struggle through the mud, sinking to her ankles.

  Within three hours most of the circus was set up, and Sylvie at last declared they would surrender for the night. The two girls dragged themselves to their small caravan, and Julia found she was looking forward to a shower in the cramped minuscule bathroom. Most of all, she wanted to collapse on her narrow cot and let her aching muscles relax. Although their caravan was tiny and her bed uncomfortable, Julia was starting to see it as her haven in the fraught world of the circus site.

  Unfortunately when they reached the caravan they found the rainstorm had not only turned the ground to a sea of mud, but also seeped through the roof and flooded their quarters. She looked dismally at the puddles on the floor, the soaking bedcovers and the rivulets of rainwater that were cascading down the walls, and felt exhausted despair wash over her. Sylvie was swearing energetically, bustling around trying to find a dry patch to move her precious costumes into. Julia stood helplessly watching as Sylvie shoved quilts and clothes into a suitcase and pushed it under the bed. Julia had hardly unpacked yet – feeling she couldn’t yet make the place her own – so had left her belongings stashed under her cot. The bed she’d been longing for was now a damp chilly swamp and Sylvie snapped that she mustn’t use the electrics. No shower either.

  With a ferocious sigh, Sylvie disappeared back into the rain to find somewhere else for them to sleep. Julia slumped against the wall, hardly aware of the drips falling on her head. She was already soaked and too tired to care.

  She let her eyelids close for a moment and felt the aching in her arms and thighs – partly from carrying heavy loaded crates and partly from the standing fuck she’d had earlier. Her mind wandered over the events of the past week – the high-octane blur of their nightly performances and the ever-present tensions backstage. She thought of the dance studio at uni, her daily training sessions. It was weeks since she’d practised. Instead, she’d been learning how to juggle, working on her ‘slave’ routine with Sylvie, and trying to find a way to fit in to the strange environs of the circus. In the background, her desire for Robert was a constant irritation that kept her restlessly turned on, and threatened to push her to dangerous stunts. Using Joe to try to entice Robert had been a risky move, one that could jeopardise her position in the circus, but Julia had been almost unable to control her horniness. The frustration had given her a reckless feeling that bordered on the deranged. Robert seemed to want to turn her into a toy for his pleasure, not a dancer. Julia remembered his face in the mirror that afternoon, interested but not involved – as though he were watching a performance for aesthetic curiosity rather than arousal. The thought of his dispassionate regard sent a flush of shame through her, mixed with a shock of arousal. No matter how he humiliated or angered her, it seemed Robert touched a nerve that connected directly to her sex.

  Sylvie wrenched the door open and greeted Julia’s startled face with a wicked little smile.

  ‘Better bring your nightie, Julia. We’re going to a sleep-over.’

  ‘Where?’ Julia felt a surge of relief. She only hoped she wouldn’t be sharing with Rachel. The thought of it made her seriously consider climbing into her bed, cold and wet though it was.

  ‘We got lucky, girl. Tonight we are the guests of the ringmaster!’

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nbsp; The rain drummed on the tin roof of Robert’s caravan, a steady noise that Julia found strangely comforting. She thought of submarines and ships sailing through the night, Robert’s sitting room a warm dry cabin sealed off from the stormy world outside. Music was playing when they arrived, sodden, bedraggled and dripping onto Robert’s Persian carpet. Julia didn’t recognise the tune – some relaxed jazz number with a muffled piano playing long aching notes. Though she’d approached the caravan with trepidation, not knowing how Robert would react after the service station scene, Julia found she was so drained she hardly had the energy to worry about his attitude. In fact, all three of them were so shattered from the heavy unpleasant day’s work that the atmosphere was one of sheer and overwhelming relief. Sinking down in soft cushions and nursing large glasses of red wine, all three sat for a while without talking, letting their muscles relax and the music drift over them like a soporific smoke.

  Robert had handed them towels when they arrived, and Julia at last dragged herself to her feet, desperate for a hot shower to warm her chilled skin. Like all the caravans, Robert’s had a bathroom about the size of a coffin, with a shower that hummed as the water pump worked. It wasn’t luxury accommodation, but Julia was grateful to peel off her clammy skirt and top and breathe in the clouds of steam that rose from the water. She left her soaking clothes in a ball on the bathroom floor, and stood under the shower. The trickle of warm water flowing over her chilly skin felt like a small piece of heaven. Closing her eyes she listened to the murmur of Robert’s voice from the couch. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but she heard Sylvie’s smoky laughter and prayed Robert wasn’t discussing her. As she soaped herself, rubbing the blood back into her limbs, Julia remembered Henri’s advice. Living in the circus, there was no such thing as privacy. There were no secrets. The cramped caravans and the intensity of the work meant intimacy was virtually inevitable. Surely, Julia thought uneasily, Robert wouldn’t share the details of his voyeuristic exploits?

  As she soaped herself she noticed two small bruises on her hips, marks left by Joe’s thumbs where he’d gripped her that afternoon. She rubbed thoughtfully at the small purple shadows, wondering at their significance. A kind of badge of initiation into Robert’s world of experimental sex. For a moment she felt proud to have taken the initiative that afternoon, showing Robert that she was more than capable of transgression and not afraid to venture into dangerous territory.

  She turned off the shower hurriedly and wrapped herself in Robert’s purple silk robe. It smelt faintly of cedarwood, a warm, musky scent that made her feel like it was Robert himself wrapping his arms round her and caressing her with a slippery touch. Shivering, she stepped into the sitting room and found Robert stretched on the sofa, glass of wine in hand. Sylvie was cross-legged on the floor beside him, and it seemed obvious that she should sit on the chair facing them. The same chair, she remembered with a flush of shame, in which she had exposed herself the first time she came here.

  The conversation had stopped when she entered the room, increasing Julia’s anxiety. She sat stiffly on the edge of the chair, holding the robe tightly around herself. Of course, both Robert and Sylvie were intimately acquainted with her naked body, but in the tiny space of his living room, Julia felt acutely aware of the fact she had nothing on underneath. As the silence stretched out, Julia listened to the sound of the rain on the roof, wishing that someone would speak. At last, Sylvie broke the silence.

  ‘Nice and relaxed now, Julia?’ She looked at her with amusement. ‘We were just discussing how you’ve been settling in.’

  Julia didn’t respond, her mind racing through the possible conversations they may have had.

  ‘How do you feel about your act, Julia?’ Robert said. ‘About working with Sylvie?’

  Julia’s throat was dry and her heart was starting to speed.

  ‘It’s been . . . interesting,’ she managed to stammer.

  ‘Really? Can’t you be a little more expansive?’ His voice had that teasing edge to it. ‘How do you feel about touching her? Kissing her?’

  Julia suddenly had a vivid flash of the softness of Sylvie’s lips, the throb of the drumbeat increasing in intensity as she leant in to kiss her, the whistles of the audience goading her on. She couldn’t deny that she’d come to enjoy their act, the way their bodies slid against each other, the contrast of Sylvie’s petite frame with her own more voluptuous charms. She met Robert’s eyes, seeing the tease of his smile. He was daring her, trying to embarrass her.

  ‘Sylvie’s very skilful, and very beautiful. But I’m not into women.’

  ‘You mean it doesn’t turn you on? Don’t be ridiculous, Julia. I’ve seen you afterwards.’

  ‘And the way you kiss me isn’t exactly cold,’ Sylvie added, leaning forward to pour Julia a glass of wine. Julia lifted it gratefully and took a long sip. She was playing for time.

  ‘Whom you choose to fuck is your business, Julia,’ Robert said. ‘But in this show, we need to keep everything fresh. Most of all, you must enjoy performing.’

  ‘You’re not happy with my work?’ Julia felt resentment and confusion rising in her chest. ‘You’ve hardly given me a chance to show my skills.’

  ‘I don’t know you well enough yet, Julia. If you do well with Sylvie, I’ll consider ways to put you to use more . . . effectively.’

  His words were provocative; a thinly veiled allusion to the afternoon’s events, and Julia knew it. Was he offering a deal? As she wondered how to respond, she took another gulp of wine. They hadn’t eaten since lunch, and she could already feel the alcohol going to her head, the rich strong wine making her a little woozy.

  ‘So what’s the secret, Robert? You think I’m lacking something?’ Julia had a dim sense that the wine was giving her Dutch courage, but she couldn’t help rising to Robert’s challenge. She lay back in the seat, at last releasing the robe and letting it fall open enough that Robert and Sylvie could see the swell of her breast underneath.

  ‘I think your routine is very polished, Julia.’

  ‘’S a good thing, isn’t it?’ Julia said, letting Sylvie refill her glass. Sylvie perched on the arm of the chair, closer to Julia.

  ‘It’s the least I’d expect.’ Robert’s voice was calm and measured. Julia looked at his casually stretched out legs and wondered how the man managed to stay so cool every damn minute of the day. He was leaning on his elbow, watching the girls, and only that hint of fire in his dark eyes expressed anything like excitement.

  ‘A flawless act is fine. What I’m looking for, Julia, is passion. We need to draw you out, Julia, find out what turns you on.’ Robert nodded gently at Sylvie, who quietly set down her glass of wine and turned to face Julia.

  ‘Robert and I thought it might help if we acted out the scene,’ she said slyly, openly staring at the gap in Julia’s bathrobe, letting her eyes run over Julia’s body and back to her face. She smiled, letting the tip of her tongue moisten her lips.

  ‘It’s safe in here,’ she said. ‘We won’t be disturbed. How about we let Robert see how far we could take it?’ Her voice was low, her large eyes hooded as though she were drugged. Julia felt a tremor of excitement rise in her, as she realised what they had been plotting while she showered. It was another of Robert’s games. This time he wanted to see her with a woman and Sylvie was obviously pleased to entertain him.

  Though Julia was happy to act out a little Sapphic role-play every so often she hadn’t ever really imagined making love to a woman. The wine and the thrill of being on the verge of forbidden territory sent a flush to Julia’s cheeks, and she felt dizzy, half in a trance as she set down her wine and placed her hands in her lap. She was horrified to find she was shaking.

  In the dim soft lighting of the sitting room Julia hoped no one else would notice her nerves. A small lamp on the shelf spilled light over the girls, leaving large pools of dark shadow and Robert only half visible. She was nevertheless very aware of his presence as Sylvie stood and wriggled out of her work
clothes, stepping gracefully aside to leave them puddled on the floor. She wore a luxurious black velvet bra that pushed up her small breasts into high curves, a frivolous piece of underwear that suited her quirky manner. Her knickers, too, were black velvet, frilled and ribboned like a fifties bikini. They skimmed across her buttocks, the folds of her curved cheeks peeking out from underneath. Julia was used to seeing Sylvie in her gilt metal costume, and the sight of her in normal feminine underwear seemed somehow far more intimate. Besides, they were doing this for pleasure, not work. The difference was palpable.

  Sylvie stretched like a cat, pushing her breasts upward and curving her back. Turning to kneel in front of Julia, she ignored Robert as though he weren’t there.

  ‘Undo me?’ she asked almost shyly, and Julia found herself disarmed by the usually forceful Sylvie surrendering to her. She leant forward, putting her chin on Sylvie’s shoulder and hearing the other girl breathe right next to her ear, fast and urgent. Julia leant her face into the fine hairs at the nape of Sylvie’s neck and smelt her rose-water scent, the sweet girlish smell of her skin.

  Reaching down, she unhooked Sylvie’s bra, pulling it gently over her shoulders and letting the garment drop to the girl’s lap.

  Now Sylvie caught her hands and pulled them to her breasts, letting Julia’s fingers brush over the soft mounds of her tits, catching on the nipples that were stiff little points, hard against Julia’s palms. Silently, Sylvie moved Julia’s hands back and forth, letting her rub against the nipples and massage her breasts. She was petite – her breasts were no more than a handful for Julia, who felt with pleasant surprise the delicacy of the flesh she was rubbing. Is this what a man would feel, the shock of such softness? She wanted, suddenly, to feel Sylvie’s breasts in her mouth, but before she could move, Sylvie had moved in close and was burrowing her head into Julia’s bathrobe, searching with her mouth and tongue for Julia’s naked skin.