Circus Excite (9 page)

His caravan was a sleek silver lozenge, sitting right on the edge of the site slightly apart from the others. Inside, a light shone dimly, and Julia could hear the low sound of music playing.

She knocked tentatively, curious despite herself to see what his living quarters were like. When the door opened, she was greeted by the sweet smell of incense and Robert standing in bare feet, inviting her in. She entered the caravan with a mix of trepidation and excitement – it wasn't how she'd wanted to get him on his own, but the thought of a private audience in such a tightly confined space was stirring her blood.

‘Would you like a drink, Julia?' Robert was reaching into a cupboard and bringing out glasses. The sight of them reminded her instantly of her ham-fisted performance earlier, and she cringed inwardly. Nodding dumbly, she took a look round while he poured red wine for them. The sitting room was a microcosm of a circus tent – silk drapes hung across the windows and the wood was painted with intricate dark designs like an old gypsy caravan. Stretching over the sofa was a well-packed bookshelf, and more books were sitting on a stack on the table. She took in elegantly carved wooden marionettes hanging from a cupboard door and the small framed pictures hung on the walls. Julia studied one, curious that a man should live in a space so beautifully decorated. It was an Indian painting, a delicate working of a couple lying under a star-filled sky, the woman with her legs spread wide, the man approaching with a huge curved erection. Julia looked with fascination at the exquisitely painted figures, the serene expressions on their faces, and the patient attention that the painter showed to the minute intricacies of their flesh.

‘The beauty is in the detail, don't you think?' Robert handed Julia a glass of wine and stood behind her calmly studying the picture. ‘Never fails to inspire me.'

Julia thought she heard a teasing edge in his voice, and hoped fervently that he could be distracted from the events of the afternoon. When she turned back to smile at him, however, he was slumped in the sofa, rubbing his eyes distractedly. ‘Have a seat, Julia. We've got a lot to discuss.'

Julia obeyed, sitting on the couch opposite. The deep cushions were so soft she was forced either to sit ramrod straight or sink back till she was almost lying supine. She sat up, crossing her legs awkwardly under herself and trying to look attentive, aware that Robert was
observing her thoughtfully as she fidgeted. His chocolate-brown eyes studied her as though she was a chess piece and he was considering his next move. He let his gaze follow the line of her shirt buttons, down to the nervously restless hands in her lap.

‘What is it you're scared of?' Robert spoke with the lazy intensity Julia remembered from the audition, and she felt suddenly as though she were under the same powerful scrutiny. His easy confidence both unsettled and aroused her, and she felt his question creep under her skin. With a shiver, she was reminded that under Joe's shirt she wore only the thin white wrapper. She felt as vulnerable as if she were sitting naked under Robert's eyes.

‘Getting it wrong?' she asked hopelessly. ‘I'm scared of missing my cue, and fucking up the whole show, I suppose.'

‘Julia, without being cruel, one nameless dancer dropping a glass will not fuck up the whole show.' The comment stung. ‘What will, however, let the show down, is if one of our performers is up onstage going through the motions. I couldn't care less if the whole set came crashing down around you.' He paused. ‘This circus is about arousal, Julia. About getting horny. What I want from you is a mind-fuck. You can't just wriggle your ass and turn me on.' Julia felt the white-hot shock of his words, so intimate and direct. Was he still talking about the show? Was he bluntly telling her he didn't want to fuck her? Robert seemed to read her mind:

‘What you fear is often the source of your most powerful sexuality. What makes you angry, what disgusts you, even. What were you thinking of, this afternoon? What is it you really desire?'

Julia hesitated, her mind racing. How should she react to this? She didn't know if Robert was offering a challenge or asking a rhetorical question. As she sipped at
her wine, playing for time, she remembered the photo of Josephine Baker, curling over on her back with an expression of tense joyous sensuality. The image of a woman so explosively sexual, so dynamic and vibrant, was what had driven her through dance school.

‘I want to blow everyone away,' she heard herself blurt out.

Robert remained silent, waiting, it seemed, for Julia to elaborate. When she stayed silent, feeling embarrassed, he spoke in a voice so soft Julia wasn't sure she'd heard him right.

‘Take off the shirt, Julia.'

She felt a thrill of uncertainty run through her, and her stomach flipped with shock. A delicious buzz of warmth started between her legs as she raised her eyes to Robert's, questioningly.

‘Take it off.' He nodded at her, locking his eyes on hers.

As if mesmerised, Julia reached for the top button of the shirt and worked it loose. She held Robert's gaze as she undid the buttons, feeling as though she were stripping for a teacher. Something told her it was wonderfully, dangerously wrong to be undressing for Robert alone. He sat relaxed in his chair, impassive, as he had during her audition. Julia pulled the shirt off and sat in her revealing wrap, now crumpled and ridden up. She had wiped off the panstick with cold cream, but traces of it remained in the folds of her skin, white rims of paint rubbed into her fingernails and between her toes. She knew that under the short fringe of the wrap, her pussy was still brushed with make-up, and she thought of her painted clit with a frisson of desire as she wondered what Robert would ask of her next.

‘Close your eyes.'

Julia complied, giving in to the irresistible feeling of being under Robert's control.

Robert stood up, placed his glass on the table and disappeared through the curtain that separated his bedroom from the living area. Julia felt disorientated, able to hear his footsteps but unable to see what he was doing. She waited, feeling her breath start to quicken and the tightly wound fabric of the wrap crush her breasts with every inhalation. The friction against her nipples was fantastic, and she felt them stiffen with pleasure, hoping Robert was getting a good look at her as she sat nearly panting on his couch. As she heard Robert re-enter the room and move around, she pressed her thighs together as tightly as she could, feeling her muscles clench against her naked clit and send a warm pulse through her body. She suddenly noticed how hot the caravan was; after a June day the temperature inside one of these metal boxes was close and intense. A film of sweat was building on her top lip, and she licked it away, wishing she could feel Robert's mouth on hers. She was aching to feel his skin against her.

‘You're getting hot, aren't you?' Robert's voice was coming from the sofa again, commanding her to agree. She nodded, shivering, as even the sound of his voice was a caress against her skin. There was an agonising moment of silence while she waited for his next move.

‘How do your tits feel?'

She wanted to open her eyes and move towards him, dying to cross the space between them. The tension of being watched and questioned was almost unbearable, forcing her to admit her feelings to a virtual stranger. Still, wanting to prove herself willing, she played along.

‘They're aching. My dress is rubbing against them.'

‘Good. Concentrate on that feeling. You really have got beautiful tits. I like to think of them aching. Now tell me about your pussy.'

Julia let a low moan escape from her half-open mouth, not knowing how to respond. She wished he
would just touch her, let the tension ease a little – but realised this was what he wanted, to observe her as she got more and more turned on and less able to control her reactions. She rocked back and forth gently, trying to press herself against the cushions.

‘Are you wet?'

Julia nodded, unable to admit her state of arousal in words.

‘Now open your eyes.' Julia was expecting to see Robert opposite her, and instead was shocked to find a full-length mirror facing her, her own dishevelled reflection looking back at her with startled eyes and flushed cheeks. She saw just how exposed her costume made her, the full curve of her breasts straining against the low, slashed bodice, one nipple peeking from the top, a sliver of a rosy-pink crescent. With her legs folded under her, and in the soft lamplight of the caravan, her sex was hidden in the shadows, but it was apparent that she was free of underwear.

Robert was holding the mirror upright, watching her with amusement.

‘Pull up your dress, have a look at yourself.'

Julia hesitated, feeling as though she were being pulled into one of the perverse games Sylvie had warned her about. But Robert was watching, waiting for her. If she refused she'd be conceding defeat, and she had the feeling it could be the end of her circus career.

Leaning back, Julia slowly lifted the hem with one hand, exposing the hairless V of her mons, letting Robert examine her as she lingered over her reflection in the mirror. She was delighted with how slutty she looked, like a slave-girl displaying herself proudly.

‘It's a beautiful sight, Julia.' Robert took a sip of his wine, looking down at her as she admired her reflection. ‘The audience is your mirror. You have to treat them as a lover, a mass of lovers. When you're up there, I want
you to be as wet as you are now. I want you to be so dizzy with wanting you can hardly stand. If you break a glass or make a wrong move, let the fear turn you on more. Imagine Sylvie's anger. Play to it, play with it. What the audience wants is intimacy, they want to understand you: why, how . . . and
whom
you desire. If that includes your darker emotions, it only makes it more intense. Don't be afraid to show your true feelings.'

As Robert spoke, Julia felt he was drawing out her essence, relaxing her and at the same time exciting her further. Was he goading her into admitting that he made her horny? She wanted to spill out an admission of her desire now, show him clearly what she wanted. It was obvious how ready she was for sex, how much she needed to be touched, felt and fucked. Could she ask him now, simply, to put an end to this tortuous arousal and lay her down on the couch?

‘And the last secret of the circus, Julia.' She looked up at him, her eyes hooded, sultry, heavy with longing. They smiled at each other, understanding what must come next. Julia reached up to unfasten the clasp that held her wrap, feeling the heartbeat bouncing in her chest and willing Robert to come to her.

He laid the mirror to one side and approached slowly. Julia could see the size of the bulge in his trousers, knew his cock was stiff with longing. She couldn't wait to touch it, feel the heat of his arousal in the palm of her hand. As he reached her, Robert reached down and cupped Julia's face in his hands. Her mouth watered as he leant in to whisper to her.

‘The last secret is that we never give it all away at once.'

She felt herself suddenly bereft as he dropped his hands and walked away, letting the atmosphere hang terribly between them, a humid, empty silence that
made Julia want to scream with frenzied frustration. He busied himself clearing the table, putting away the mirror, while Julia felt the fury rise in her yet again, and whether she was shaking with want or anger was immaterial.

‘Impatience is something you need to learn to get over, Julia. I want you to go to bed now. Fall asleep and dream about fucking.'

Julia was a blur of white as she stumbled across the site, not knowing where she was going but just aware she had to move, fast, get far away from Robert and his games that had left her nearly deranged with frustration. She headed blindly into the dark, taking deep lungfuls of the cold night air and shivering as the breeze brushed over her skin. Ahead of her a knot of the circus people sat round a small fire, their voices a low murmur in the dark. Julia veered away from them, desperate to avoid meeting anyone, thinking vaguely she might dive into the black tangle of the forest that edged the site and lose herself in the night.

She didn't see the tall figure break away from the fire and follow swiftly behind her. When his shout rang out across the site, it pulled her up short, but she turned to face him with all the built-up tension of the past hour still coursing through her veins. He caught up with her, breathing heavily and swearing as he struggled through a patch of thick mud. His face was obscured by darkness, but Julia recognised the lingering smell of diesel and the burly outline of Joe's figure.

‘I'm going for a walk,' she snapped, aware that she was taking out her anger on this blameless guy – the only one in the company who'd shown her any real warmth. ‘Is that a problem?' She couldn't help the waspish sting in her voice, at that moment she wanted to hurt someone – preferably Robert, but Joe was easier.

‘Actual fact, I don't give a fuck what you do. But I'd like my shirt back.' Julia realised she'd left it in Robert's caravan when she stormed out, and that Joe was standing in front of her shirtless. Against the faint light of the campfire she could see his muscular silhouette, the taut curves of his biceps as he crossed his arms and waited. The firelight flickered over his skin, and Julia felt a familiar pang of desire to feel a man's hard smooth skin against hers.

‘Am I supposed to hang about here half-naked all night, or are you going to give me it back?' he asked sharply, matching the tone of her voice.

‘I don't have it,' she admitted, feeling smaller. ‘I left it in Robert's caravan.'

‘Oh, I see.' Joe sounded amused.

‘See what? We were discussing the show.'

‘I'm sure you were. And I'm sure he got you all worked up. I know how he operates, Julia.' Joe came closer, so Julia could smell the mix of sweat, diesel and wood-smoke from him. ‘I bet you're panting for a fuck.'