Circus Excite (4 page)

‘Really? Why not? I thought it sounded like fun.'

‘Fun? The man is a complete prick.'

‘Oh. I see,' Karin said, nodding.

‘What do you mean, “you see”?' Julia poured a generous measure of whisky into the cup and took a swig.

‘It's just that you didn't complain about the job. You complained about the man. And interesting choice of descriptive phrase, by the way.' Karin was winding her up, but she couldn't help herself. She quite enjoyed watching Julia squirm in the throes of rejection for a change. Karin was very aware of the succession of lovelorn boys her flatmate had dropped so breezily, and just a little jealous.

‘What descriptive phrase?' Julia snapped. This analysis session was doing nothing to improve her bad mood. Karin leant over and held her wrist.

‘Julia. I've known you for four years.'

‘Yes.'

‘In all that time, I have never seen you drink whisky at –' she glanced at the clock – ‘two o'clock in the afternoon. And I've never seen you so wound up.' She couldn't resist another dig. ‘So what happened? Was the nasty man a lech? Did he try to get you to touch his “huge prick”?'

‘Oh fuck
off
, Karin.' Julia stormed into her room and slammed the door behind her.

In the kitchen, Karin snorted with satisfaction. Julia was going to find it tough in the real world.

Lying spread-eagled on her bed, Julia stared morosely at the ceiling. What Karin had said had touched a nerve. She was upset precisely because he hadn't asked her to touch him, or even shown the slightest interest in her. And she'd stood in front of him practically fondling her tits! In her experience, just licking your lips at a man was usually enough. Robert had looked at her like she was some second-rate pole dancer! She snorted in disgust. Rolling over onto her front, Julia felt an uncomfortable pricking in her bra. She reached down her front and felt something against her fingers. Frowning, she pulled out the object.

It was the white feather. How the hell had he managed to get it in there? She remembered the feel of him brushing the tip of the feather down her body, and the teasing sound of his voice. ‘If you're up to it . . .'

Suddenly everything clicked into place. This was a message he'd sent her. An invitation. A white feather, daring her to take him up on his offer. Perhaps he enjoyed a tease just as much as she did. Maybe his professional role forbade him from fucking her. Julia's imagination started working. She thought of his languid confident manner, and the controlled intensity of his gaze. She flicked at her nipples with the feather and imagined it was Robert's tongue licking her. The thought made her shiver. As she tickled herself lazily, she pictured him in front of her, reaching out for her tits. Oh she could make him lose his cool head, she knew she could. Julia sank into a daydream, lying back and letting her hand travel down between her legs. She thought of him getting turned on, beads of sweat breaking out on his brow. With one hand she started working at herself with her fingers. She closed her eyes. Dragging
the feather over her face, brushing her lips, Julia arched her back and rubbed herself harder. In her head, she imagined the man quivering and helpless, begging her to let him fuck her.

Yeah, she'd make him beg. He'd have to be on the verge of crying before she let him so much as touch her. She'd have him on his knees.

As she pictured Robert kneeling in front of her, clutching her hips and burrowing his face into her, kissing her, trying desperately to get inside her clothes, Julia felt her orgasm approaching. Her body started to convulse and she curled up over her hand, one hand in her knickers and one still holding onto the feather. She clung to the bed, feeling the after-shocks subside, and pictured Robert on his back after she'd fucked him. He'd be lying there prostrate, arms spread-eagled. Breathless, sweating and utterly surrendered to her.

Julia smiled. She felt much better. And now she had a plan.

Julia put a Tori Amos CD on, loud, and stood in her room considering what to chuck and what to take with her. Her room was a chaotic fantasy land, strewn with clothes, knick-knacks and fake flowers, the walls strung with fairy lights and every surface cluttered with make-up, shoes, glossy magazines and CDs. Above the bed was a framed photo of Josephine Baker, the woman tipped upside down and balanced on the back of a male dancer, legs and arms flexed so she looked like a human Catherine wheel. It was Julia's favourite picture, Baker wearing nothing but a feather tucked between her legs and a magnificent smile. The image captured the explosive, vibrant moment that she first took the stage in Paris and rocked the world. It was Julia's inspiration.

She took it down from the wall and wrapped it in a soft wool sweater, placing it reverently in her suitcase.

She packed five pairs of dance shoes, stuffed with paper and carefully wrapped together by the ribbons. These were the most precious of her belongings. It took a long time to break her shoes in, banging them hard against the wall, walking round and round the house in them till the box at the tip eased enough that it wouldn't break her toes. Then they had to be prepared: the satin carefully snipped away round the toes; then darned and lacquered to stop it fraying; the soles sandpapered and rubbed with rosin. Even if she wouldn't be performing ballet routines at the circus, Julia knew she would have to keep training. Just a few days' rest meant her muscles would start to slacken and her joints stiffen up.

As she considered what clothes to take, Julia remembered Robert's warning that she should take more ‘sensible clothes'. This was a problem – she didn't have any sensible clothes. Given the option, she'd wear silk and sequins every day of the week. In any case, she was plotting a seduction so there was no way she was turning up to rehearsals in trackie bottoms.

She smiled as she packed, thinking of just how much she was going to enjoy this. Robert was the first decent challenge she'd had in a very long time.

AT 5 A.M. THE
following Tuesday, Julia was awake and dressing in the pale dawn light. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and she was exhausted, but even so the thought of leaving to go on tour was giving her butterflies.

She'd been frantically busy since she decided to take the job: packing her stuff; clearing out her room; saying goodbye to friends (‘Running away with the circus? Well, good luck . . .'). Through it all, she'd been considering how to approach her seduction of Robert. She'd spent Saturday shopping for a new outfit. This she had deliberated over carefully. Obviously, it had to make her look unbearably sexy. But it also had to look like she wasn't trying too hard – Robert wasn't going to fall for any cheap gimmicks. She had a feeling this game would be harder to win than that. After all, she'd stood in front of him virtually naked and he hadn't batted an eyelid. What she needed was an air of mystery that would fire his imagination: she had to look like she was almost unavailable.

Julia was used to dressing to shock – the idea of tantalising a man was an interesting new exercise. Eventually she'd bought a cute little flared skirt and a sheer top that fastened over her breasts, the loose floating fabric showing a sketchy glimpse of her body underneath. Her olive-toned skin seemed to glow under the pale fabric, and the curve of her belly showed over the low-slung skirt – so low the top of her knickers was peeking out. She'd also invested a small fortune in the
provocative underwear: a lacy balconette bra and knickers that fastened at the sides with silk ribbons. A pair of kitten heels gave her a sexy wiggle. Last of all she'd had a bikini wax that left her nearly bare, just a strip of hair running between her legs and the rest naked.

As she dressed, she took pleasure in the feel of the clothes against her skin, the slide of the satiny fabric over her arms and the way the heels made her ass stick out, like she was displaying it. She'd liberally slicked herself with cocoa butter and fake tan. Her skin felt taut and smooth, and she was shivering with anticipation. Julia loved the build up to a seduction, the careful preparations and grooming. It all added to the excitement – dressing with the thought of fucking later was enough to turn her on. She wore her hair down, tousled and a little wild, letting loose curls tumble over her shoulders. At last, she looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror and gave a wide smile.

In the taxi the driver eyed Julia hungrily in the rear-view mirror as he drove, casting longing looks at her cleavage and stocking-sleek legs. Julia noted his interest with pleasure – her charms were obviously apparent.

They drove fast – it was dawn and the streets were half empty. Julia was dog-tired, but the anticipation of seeing Robert was sending little thrills through her and making her a little shaky. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this nervous at the prospect of seeing a man. Dreamily, she imagined how Robert would react when he saw her. At the audition, she'd been unprepared. Now, perfumed, powdered, and dressed to the nines, Julia knew she was virtually irresistible. She pictured him smiling that skewed smile of his, pulling her into his office and starting to strip her, slowly. Squirming on the leather seat, she felt herself start to grow wet at the thought.

The taxi pulled up by the alleyway and the driver carried her case to the door, looking askance at the grotty surroundings. As she paid him he was still trying to sneak a look up her skirt. He left her alone in the alley, and Julia took the chance to prepare herself before she went in, pulling a cherry-red lip-gloss out of her handbag.

As she checked her hair in her pocket mirror the door burst open and Julia had to jump sideways to avoid the man backing out. He carried one end of a large crate, bent nearly double under the weight. She sized up his impressive bulk as he passed: a young muscular man with dirty blond hair and a T-shirt marked with dirt and sweat stains. Carrying the other end of the crate was a strange long-boned man, all awkward angles. His hair was pulled back in a grease-slicked ponytail and his goatee beard was waxed to a point. Julia met his eyes and felt the shock of his stare, an intense melancholic gaze that pierced right through her. Behind them, shouts, bangs and heavy footsteps echoed down the stairwell. Next the woman from the audition appeared in the doorway, hands on hips, apparently directing the move. She glanced at Julia.

‘Ah. You're here. Late.' Julia was about to protest – it was still ten to six – but the woman dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. ‘No matter. I'm Rachel. You're travelling with the horses. Follow Joe.' She pointed towards the two men who had nearly knocked her over.

Horses? Julia turned to look at the men as they disappeared round a corner.

‘Chop chop!' Rachel commanded, clapping her hands. Her gaze dropped to Julia's feet. ‘And you'd better get yourself some decent shoes, darling,' she added. Rachel herself was wearing a black vest and jeans, dressed for work. Yet even in a pair of heavy lace-up boots she
somehow managed to exude an aura of fearsome glamour.

‘Shift your pretty little arse, princess,' she snapped, as Julia hesitated. Nonplussed, and feeling chastised, Julia lifted her suitcase and struggled after Joe. As she stumbled over the cobbles, she cursed her heels and then scowled, having proved Rachel's bitchy comment true within thirty seconds. Round the corner, the two men were loading the crate into a truck.

Julia groaned inwardly as she looked at the clapped-out old lorry she'd be travelling in. And where the hell was Robert? With bitter resentment, she pulled her suitcase towards the vehicle. Her efforts to look like a high-class libertine were going to be wasted on the navvies.

By 6 a.m. the truck was hurtling towards Brighton, where the rehearsals would start. Julia was wedged tightly into the small space between Joe and the bearded man, Henri. Joe drove fast and loosely, taking corners at high speed and spinning the wheel casually round with one hand. The truck was a rickety six-wheeler that shuddered and lurched along the road, making Julia's teeth rattle and throwing her against Joe at every turn – her leg pressed against his jeans and her shoulder knocking into his. She tried to hold herself upright, but there was nothing to hold onto other than Joe's leg, and in the end she gave in to the bumping and swaying of the truck. The other sticky area was changing gear. With three of them crammed into the cabin, Julia found herself sitting with the gear stick between her knees. She had to press her knees together every time Joe reached down to change gear, and every time he did so his hand would brush roughly against her thigh. She'd flinched the first time he did so, but he'd laughed at her as if she was a prim schoolteacher. He
had a warm easy laugh, Julia thought. He chatted with a charming kind of playful forwardness, and his voice had a soft lilting quality to it. Joe was a full-blooded gypsy; his family were ‘Rom'nies', as he told Julia, from a long tradition of horse-trading travellers. He'd grown up on the road, riding before he could walk, tending horses, doing labouring work. And then he'd joined the circus.

‘To look after the horses?' Julia asked.

‘Well, you could say that, I suppose.' Joe frowned. ‘Though they're not exactly flesh and blood horses, you know.' He looked at Julia closely.

‘You don't know anything about the circus, do you?' he asked, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. ‘Didn't you come see a show before you signed up?'

Julia suddenly realised that she did, in fact, know absolutely nothing about the circus or what her role would involve. She'd been so caught up in her plot to seduce Robert and so busy sorting out her life over the last week that she hadn't even considered what it was she would be actually doing once she was there. She shrugged and looked over at Henri, who gazed at the horizon with a distant expression.

Changing the subject, she leant over to Joe and whispered in his ear over the noise of his truck: ‘Doesn't Henri ever speak?' Since they left, the other man had just stared at the road ahead, occasionally rolling a thin cigarette and smoking pensively. Joe gave Julia a wide grin.