Circus Excite (3 page)

The door was a huge reinforced slab of steel. Padlocks hung open from the sliding bolts and another paper sign was taped up:

‘Circus Excite. Knock and wait.'

Julia rapped on the door with her knuckles and heard the sound echo down the stairwell. She waited for what seemed five minutes, and was about to turn and leave when the door was abruptly pulled open.

She found herself being scrutinised by a tall dark-haired woman. Her eyes were underlined with thick lines of kohl, giving her a hard feline appearance. The woman's gaze travelled briskly from her head to her feet and swept back up again, blatantly sizing her up. Julia felt as though she was standing naked under this critical appraisal, and straightened her spine defensively. The woman gave her a withering look.

‘No. Thank you for coming.'

The door was slammed back into place with a bang that reverberated in the hallway and down the staircase.

Stunned, Julia stared at the solid steel in front of her. Swearing, she shook her head in disbelief. Gritting her
teeth, she banged on the door with her fist. They could damn well watch her dance before telling her she wasn't good enough. She banged harder, pounding at the metal till her knuckles were stinging.

She nearly fell forward into the room when the woman opened it again. This time, she was wearing a sardonic smile, and stood aside to let Julia enter.

‘Okay, better,' she declared, motioning Julia forward. ‘Much better.'

Inside was a vast, chilly space, empty but for a table and chair in the centre of the room. The floor was dusty concrete, the walls were unpainted plaster. Julia's steps echoed as she entered. Obviously, this was not a particularly successful company. There were no posters on the wall, no sign of any schedules or activity. Nothing, in fact, but flat grey stone. Light crept in from cracks in the shutters, which had been pulled shut over the high windows. Julia stood uncertainly in the room, feeling a shiver dance down her spine. Now she was the other side of the armoured door she was having second thoughts about whether she wanted to be locked in here. The woman was walking round a corner into a darkened passageway, leaving Julia alone in the silent room.

‘The ringmaster will be with you shortly.' She tossed the remark over her shoulder as she disappeared. Julia recognised the voice – deep, scratchy and tinged with an accent. It was the same voice that had purred
‘If you're looking for adventure . . .'
on the answer phone message. It added a hint of exoticism to the words, the woman's accent rolling the
r
of ringmaster, putting the emphasis on the word ‘master' as though he was some kind of sadistic Svengali, whipping the circus into shape with a mixture of cruelty and indulgence.

Julia was looking forward to meeting him.

When she first saw Robert, she was taken aback. The first thing that struck her was how young he was. She'd expected a kind of father figure, fifty or sixty, imposing, silver-haired. Possibly wearing a top hat. Robert was mid-thirties, tall, laconic and handsome in an intense unsettling way. Dressed in a crumpled white shirt and jeans, he could have passed for a slightly jaded rock star. He introduced himself with a handshake, smiling lazily and meeting Julia's gaze with intensely dark eyes. His hair was tousled and he was unshaven – in general he had the air of someone who'd recently risen from bed. He moved with an easy confidence, walking slowly to the chair and pulling it round backwards to straddle it. He sat with his arms crossed loosely over the back and scratched his stubble.

‘So let me see what you can do,' he said lazily, fixing Julia with a curious heavy-lidded stare. Nonplussed by his languorous attitude, but determined not to show it, Julia dropped her bag on the floor and took off her jacket.

‘It's great so far. I like you undressing.' Robert's voice was calm, with a teasing lilt in it. ‘Keep going.'

Julia was thrown off balance. Was this a joke? She wasn't shy about her body, but she hadn't anticipated her interviewer asking her to strip. She wasn't quite that desperate for money.

Nevertheless, something in Robert's voice had challenged her, and Julia loved a challenge. Standing straight-backed and proud, she met his gaze and answered steadily: ‘Are you looking for a professional dancer, or a stripper?'

Robert laughed, a low sexy laugh that Julia felt tickle her inside. He shrugged.

‘It's up to you, babe. If you want to join us, you'd better not have any false modesty. We work as a very close team.'

‘You mean you want me to forget about the professional dance angle?'

‘Not at all, not at all. Circus Excite is unconventional, sure. But we're totally professional. Our show is designed very precisely, even though it looks kind of unpredictable to the audience.' Julia raised an eyebrow. She was intrigued by the sound of this, although something made her wary. Robert continued, standing up and approaching Julia as he talked. ‘We try to open the minds of the audience, more than merely “entertain” them.' His voice had turned as smooth as honey, and he leant close to her as though he were telling Julia an intimate secret. She had to steady herself not to back away from him. He reached out a hand to her hair, as though to brush a strand from her eyes. ‘Sometimes the most effective way to entrance people is . . .' He pulled a feather from behind her ear, a curling white plume that Julia knew was definitely not there when she'd tied it back that morning. ‘. . . to surprise them.' Robert placed the tip of the feather at Julia's neck, and traced a line across her chest, down between her breasts, and towards her belly. She felt the light tickling touch of the feather fluttering over her body and her breath started to quicken. Her nipples stiffened under her loose T-shirt. Was this a test to see if she'd storm out in disgust? Was he going to start fondling her now, in the interests of demonstrating how ‘open-minded' he was? Julia wasn't sure if she was happy with the way the audition was going, and wasn't sure how to react. She stood stock-still, frozen with uncertainty and trying to stay looking calm, but there was nothing she could do about the way her nipples stuck out proudly.

‘Cold?' Robert asked, casting a glance at her breasts. He smiled again. ‘It is a little chilly in here.' He dropped the feather at her feet, and walked back to the chair.

Turned on, shivering and disturbed, Julia felt a rush
of adrenaline. As Robert seated himself again, she decided to play him at his own game. She was not easily shockable. In one movement, she pulled off her T-shirt. Underneath she was wearing a black sports bra, made with lycra netting. It held her breasts firmly in place while she danced, and was cut more like a cropped vest than seductive underwear. She removed her shoes and socks. Dancing barefoot was the way she preferred: it gave her a sense of freedom that she relished. Though her feet were tough and calloused, hardened after years of pointe shoes, they were also extraordinarily sensitive, able to feel the resistance of the floor and the minute shifts in weight that she needed to balance. Now, she felt the hard, cold surface of the concrete underfoot and realised this was her first chance to audition for a professional job. She had to make it good.

After a moment's hesitation, she peeled off her leggings too. Her knickers were sporty black thongs, cut high to accentuate her legs and firm buttocks. She glanced at Robert to see his response. His face remained impassive, as though he were looking at a painting in an art gallery. Slightly annoyed by his cool demeanour, Julia decided to perform a sequence she'd adapted from a
Chicago
number. It was the sexiest dance she could think of. May as well let your hair down, she thought to herself. She undid the clasp holding her hair back and shook out her curls. The tips of her black hair brushed against her nipples, which were still sticking out proudly.

She stood in front of Robert and inhaled, standing in first position to centre herself. She hadn't warmed up properly, and there was no music. This was certainly going to be a challenge. In her head, she conjured up the opening bars to a tango rhythm. Closing her eyes till she could concentrate on the beat, Julia started moving. She swept across the floor in a ‘cat walk', aware all the
time that Robert's eyes were following her. Rolling her shoulder and flicking her head, Julia looked straight at him. He was frowning slightly, his gaze fixed on her body. She felt suddenly weightless – the austerity of the space and the cold concrete floor now felt like a stripped-down, pure environment where she could vaunt her skills freely. Then she gave in to the dancing, forcing herself to concentrate.

She ran through her routine slowly, her movements fluid and sustained, hips swivelling and legs kicking high as she turned and spun. As her body warmed up she felt the familiar buzz of adrenaline enter her bloodstream mixed with a charge of sexual energy, dancing for this stranger, alone in a silent room. She executed switch leaps and
grands jetés
– the splits mid-air – with expert precision, breaking sweat and starting to breathe heavily.

Robert watched impassively, his arms crossed. Julia jumped higher, shimmied harder. No reaction, other than a faint smile. She was worked up now, flushed and letting out grunts of effort as she leapt and curled across the room, pounding her feet against the floor and slapping her ass to keep time, gathering dust on the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet. She moved closer to him, determined to elicit a response. When she was standing close enough to reach out and touch him, she turned her back, and reached up to undo her bra. As it fell to the floor, she felt a pulse of excitement flow through her body, flooding her with warmth. She knew she was sexy, and knew how to turn a man on. Robert couldn't fail to be aroused.

Holding her breasts cupped in her hands Julia turned to face him, shaking slightly with exertion and arousal. Her chest rose and fell as her breath came in ragged bursts. She looked up, her hair in front of her face. Robert was watching her, his chin in his hand. What
was he thinking? Was she having any effect on him at all?

She let her hands fall to her sides as she stood in front of him, breathing shakily through an open mouth. She watched as his eyes dropped to her breasts and studied them. It was as though he was caressing her. Julia had to stop herself from walking the short distance between them. She wanted his hands on her, his mouth on her breasts. She imagined the feel of his stubble brushing over her skin, and his long fingers holding onto her hips. Most of all she wanted to see him shaken by desire, to see his calm amused expression shattered and see him lick his lips, blush, clear his throat – Jesus, anything!

Robert nodded. He looked at Julia as though she had just finished a standard ballet routine. She swallowed.

‘Very good.' His voice was neutral.

Very good! Julia was stunned. She'd practically offered herself to him on a plate, stood near-naked in front of him while his eyes roved over her body, as though consuming her. Damned with faint praise, indeed. She stood there, still shaking from exertion and anticipation. As Robert turned his attention to his fingernails, she realised this would be all the reaction he would give her. Coldly, she turned on her heel and went to pick up her clothes. She dressed in stony silence, thrusting her arms into her T-shirt with furious movements. She felt humiliated and rejected. She'd been prepared for failing the audition, of course, that was par for the course in the competitive sphere of theatre. But to be teased like that, and then be turned down flat – it was not something she was used to.

‘We start rehearsals in Brighton on Tuesday. Be here at 6 a.m. If you're up to it, that is. And you'll need to bring some more sensible clothing.' Robert spoke matter-of-factly, as though they had signed and sealed
a contract. Julia turned to look at him, incensed. He was as laid-back as when she had first seen him.

‘What, you're hiring me?'

Robert shrugged.

‘It's not exactly what we're looking for, but I think your style has potential for development.'

‘Development? That was . . .'
my best effort
. Julia finished the sentence in her head. Robert smiled at her, his face softening.

‘We need a dancer, and I think you'll find the experience enlightening. The pay's not terrific, but the circus is . . . unique. We'll be touring all summer, so you'd have regular work.'

Regular work. The magic phrase. This reminder of just how precarious her existence was sobered Julia. Finding work as a dancer, of any kind, was no mean feat.

‘I'll think about it.' She tried to imbue her voice with as much icy professionalism as she could muster. The last thing she wanted was to seem desperate.

‘Good. You do that. And by the way, our dancers usually rouge their nipples before they go bare-breasted. It looks a little more dramatic.'

With that, he left the room.

Julia clattered down the stairs, cursing under her breath. She stamped back up the alley, still swearing. On the tube, she kept running over what Robert had said. As if she'd even consider signing up for more of his arrogant bullshit! Part of her winced when she remembered how she'd stood in front of him, practically naked and obviously aroused. At least she'd never have to see him again. She'd had enough humiliation for the moment.

She sank into her seat, feeling drained and miserable. A handsome guy in a denim jacket sitting across from her made eye contact and tried a smile. Julia glared back at him with as much hatred as she could muster. He
withered under her 200-watt stare and Julia felt a small hollow sense of victory.

Back in her flat, she was still angrily clattering around when her flatmate got home. Karin picked up on the atmosphere immediately.

‘So the audition didn't go well, I take it?' The question went ignored.

‘Didn't get the job?' Karin asked again.

Julia looked at her grimly.

‘Yeah, I got the job. But I'm not taking it.'