Circus Excite (6 page)

Julia raised her eyebrows as Sylvie continued, getting into her stride.

‘It's like we're doing some strange religious ritual. You'll be trying to bring me to life, under orders from Robert. He'll be the one with the whip, by the way. I'll move through several poses, you crawl round the stage, dance. I want you to move like you're lost in a sexual
spiritual ecstasy. We'll have some acrobats moving around you – the guys playing temple guards. It's a fabulous set, lots of drapes and gold lighting. You'll love it. Anyway, then you're given a tall bottle. The sacred wine. You'll approach me and start to pour it all over. I don't spill a drop. At first. There's the drum roll, and so on. But this being the Circus Excite –' Sylvie paused and gave Julia a wink ‘– then you start to spill the wine all over me. Try to make it sexy, you know. You pour it all around; the music gets wilder. I'll start moving around, still holding the glasses up, striking more poses. You try to keep it from spilling, acting scared. Remember the guys behind you and Robert with his whip. The lighting will drop to just a spot on us, so it makes it all more intense.' Sylvie was lost in her description now, her voice a low purr. Julia watched as she leant back, smiling. ‘The idea is that I am brought to life as you lick the wine from me. I'll twist into some more poses and we'll fool around. The act ends when we kiss, drenched in wine.' She looked at Julia, smiling. ‘Then, bang! Lights out. Next act.' She held out her hands, palms up, striking a pose that reminded Julia of an exotic deity. ‘As the contortionist – I'll just be doing the freaky bends. You're the one the audience will empathise with, so it's up to you to make it sexy.' Julia nodded, slowly. She thought she was starting to get an inkling of what the Circus Excite's unique angle was. She watched as Sylvie unwound her legs and lay back, stretching her muscles.

‘Right. And the other acts?'

‘What you'd expect, girl, in a circus. Skill and illusion, daredevil stunts and spectacular effects.' She looked at Julia curiously. ‘You'll see. Of course Robert will show you everything. He's the one who can explain it all best. And he holds the whole thing together, of course. A natural showman, Robert. Even if his ideas are kind of bizarre, the show wouldn't exist without him.'

‘The ringmaster.' Julia nodded, thinking of Robert in the centre of the tent, directing everyone.

‘Oh, he's much more than a ringmaster. He's aware of the whole operation around him: audience, performers, the set, the sound. Even when he's in the middle of his tricks, he'll notice if just one of us isn't giving total attention.'

‘He's a magician?'

‘Well, he calls himself an illusionist. Worked all over Eastern Europe, a lot in Prague. Grew up with the stage and the darker side of the circus. I guess that's how he came up with the idea of Circus Excite.'

‘Some kind of freaky sex show?'

Sylvie gave her a sharp look.

‘Much more than a sex show, girl. It's all theatre. A circus, but darker than usual.'

‘A circus with less clothes,' Julia guessed.

‘Less clothes, yes. But we also use some shock tactics. Scenes that are a little perverted. We twist all the acts and get the audience turned on. Play with the danger.' She narrowed her eyes and an enigmatic smile spread slowly across her face.

‘It's all about desire. You can see the audience squirming while they watch you. Trying to rub themselves off on the seats. You can practically hear them getting horny.'

Lying back on the cushions and drawing on her cigarette, Sylvie looked like an exotic throwback from 1920s Paris, luxuriating in her fantasy of strange theatre. The smoke from her cigarette rose in blue curls, filling the small space. Julia felt giddy. The atmosphere was faintly surreal – almost suffocating.

She wondered what she'd got herself into. The thought of being involved in the circus made her feel edgy, as though she'd joined a strange perverse cult. She'd be living in the midst of this highly charged scene,
putting herself on display for an audience as an object of fantasy. It felt dangerous. At the same time a thrill of curiosity prickled her skin. She wanted to know how far she could go.

‘Okay, dancing girl.' Sylvie roused herself from the bed and stood up, stretching. ‘Time to visit Eva.' Julia raised her eyebrows. What now?

‘Wardrobe,' Sylvie announced.

The wardrobe trailer was a fantastic world of feathers, sequins and billowing silk. A clothes rail ran the length of one wall, crowded with outlandish outfits on hangers. Hairpieces and bead strings hung from the ceiling. Julia trailed her hands over the costumes, feeling netting spring beneath her fingers, spellbound by the glitter and shimmer of the fabric. The wardrobe mistress looked her over critically.

Eva was in her forties, tanned and stately. She wore a loose blouse and heavy bracelets that clinked as she moved her hands, lifting Julia's hair and patting at her body under her clothes. She reminded Julia of one of her ballet teachers, her face weathered but beautifully composed, with sculpted cheekbones and perfect posture. She had an air of command that was both admirable and intimidating. Briskly, Eva moved round her, sizing her up. She was trying to gauge Julia's body through the baggy rolls of Joe's oversized clothes, feeling round her hips and boldly cupping her breasts, weighing them in her hands. Shaking her head, she stood back.

‘Strip,' she commanded, bluntly. ‘I need to see what I'm working with.'

Julia obliged, shedding her clothes on the floor and standing in her underwear under the critical gaze of Eva and Sylvie. ‘You'll have to take all of it off,' Eva insisted, still staring intently at Julia's figure as though measuring her with her eyes. Reluctantly, Julia unhooked her
bra and dropped it on the floor, then pulled her knickers off and stood naked in the midst of all the clothes, shivering.

‘What's the theme?' Eva asked Sylvie, who was sitting in the corner with her legs crossed under her, smoking and watching Julia with amusement.

‘I think white for this one. Pale, angelic. Pure. Make her look like a virgin slave. A little ragged around the edges. I'll be in gold. We can keep the lighting warm and use a bit of smoke on the floor. Everything will be totally decadent.'

Eva nodded.

‘Roman-esque, don't you think?'

She flicked quickly through the rail of costumes, murmuring under her breath.

‘Something billowy, a kind of wrap-around. I think we can adjust one of these.' She pulled a hanger from the rail, and handed the costume to Julia, who looked at it dubiously. It was basically a long strip of rough white cotton.

‘Arms up.' Eva wound the cloth over Julia's shoulder, wrapped a strip tightly over her breasts and round her back, letting it drape round her hips. She pinned it in place and stood back.

‘Something like that, Sylvie?'

Sylvie cocked her head, watching Julia.

‘See what happens when you move around, girl. Is it loose enough?'

Julia looked at herself in the mirror. The fabric just skimmed over her nipples, her breasts threatening to spill over the top. It covered her pubis, but only just, leaving one hip entirely bared and the crease of her buttocks showing. If she walked you would catch a glimpse between her legs with every step, and if she leant forward her arse was bared like an animal displaying its genitalia. Although Eva had pinned the costume
together, she'd have to be careful not to let the whole thing slip off her shoulder. Julia whirled around, and the fabric brushed against her body. The cotton fell in ragged folds, chafing against her, winding round her legs. It excited her to think of an audience full of men watching her move in this, trying to get a look at her naked, tantalised by the possibility that the whole thing could unravel in front of them.

‘I like it,' she declared. ‘It needs trying out onstage though, there's no room to move in here.' Sylvie nodded in agreement. ‘What about the hair?' she asked Eva. ‘Make-up?'

Eva considered for a minute.

‘Full body, I think. Maybe a bit of powder. We can tie her hair up and keep it simple to start with. You want to keep the innocent character going, so don't make a fuss about her face. She should look blank almost, like a statue come to life. Then when you've got your twisted, bizarre poses next to her it'll provide good contrast. Anyway, they're going to be looking at the curves –' Eva ran a hand down the cotton to where it hugged Julia's hip ‘– and the flesh, not her face.'

‘In fact, we must use white paint all over,' Sylvie joined in, standing and approaching Julia. ‘Do you mind, sweetie?' She pulled aside the cotton swatch to show Julia's pubic hair. Before Julia could move, she was reaching down to the strip of hair between her legs, tugging gently at the tufts. ‘I think we need to get rid of your muff,' she said, frowning. ‘Eva can wax you tomorrow.'

Julia was stunned, feeling totally vulnerable as the two women pulled and prodded her. She was also uncomfortably aware that she was turned on; Sylvie's pulling at the hairs had sent a surge of blood between her legs that made her knees weak. Blushing, she drew
back from the women, her heart hammering. Sylvie, totally unconcerned, sensed her discomfort and smiled wickedly.

‘Excellent,' she purred. ‘That's exactly what I want. A blushing virgin who can't help getting turned on.' She turned to Eva. ‘You're a genius. Now we can get started on the practice.'

Walking across the grass with Sylvie, Julia felt relief at being clothed again and out of the charged atmosphere of the wardrobe trailer. The site was still buzzing with people carrying equipment into the tent. Radios were playing music and the day was heating up. Most of the men were shirtless, and many of them turned to give her a lingering stare as she passed. Before, she'd felt like she was invisible on the site as the company focused intently on their work. This time, she and Sylvie attracted attention, and Julia was a curiosity. She felt scrutinised in a way that was almost hostile. This feeling was only made worse when one of the men called something to Sylvie that made her laugh out loud; a rough dirty laugh that Julia suspected was directed at her.

‘What's so funny?' she asked, bristling. Sylvie looked at her with her round cat-like eyes, considering whether to explain the joke.

‘You're a stranger, Julia. You're a “first of May”, you know? A townie.' She shrugged. ‘It's a hard life, and we stick tight together. Some of the roustabouts don't trust outsiders; it's just in their blood. They're probably going to hate you. Either that or they'll be trying to fuck you.' Sylvie looked Julia over. ‘You'd better keep your wits about you, girl. You go around shaking those big titties at the labourers, and you'd better be prepared for the consequences.'

‘I can handle myself'.

‘Maybe with the pretty boys in college. But this circus is kind of a magnet for outsiders, you know.'

‘What do you mean, outsiders?'

‘People who are drawn to extremes. Who like to experiment. They like to play games, Julia. You need to understand the rules.'

‘And they are?'

Sylvie laughed, a squeaking shivery laugh that made her whole body shake in delight.

‘Nobody tells you the fucking rules, Miss Ballerina!' She made her eyes round and wide, mocking Julia with an expression of dazed innocence. ‘Just presume this place is full of dangerous perverts with kinky ideas, okay?'

‘And what if I have some kinky ideas of my own?' Julia asked, rising to the challenge. At this, Sylvie threw back her head and howled, laughing like she'd inhaled helium. They'd reached the caravan, and she climbed the steps shaking her head at Julia's naiveté. As she opened the door she turned to Julia, her small frame still quivering with laughter.

‘Okay, sweetheart, you play your own games.' She winked. ‘Just don't let the ringmaster catch you fucking behind his back. He likes to keep a very close eye on our antics. You'd be surprised at how much he sees – it's like living in a peepshow, this place.' She delivered the last line in a stage whisper, as though she were letting Julia in on a dirty secret.

Julia imagined Robert's intense brown eyes watching her as she flirted her way round the circus. The thought of his attention gave her a delicious glimmer of nerves, the same butterflies she had when she performed. She was struck by a vision of the circus itself as a sexual theatre, everyone a performer, everyone a watcher. From the steps of Sylvie's van, she turned to look round the
site. Amongst the cluster of vehicles and tents, she imagined every corner filled with writhing couples, lewd acts hidden behind curtains and furtively enacted perversions. Watching everything with a penetrating gaze was Robert, spying zealously on his workers while the site buzzed with simmering, artful eroticism.

Julia let the vision wash over her, certain that in such a place her desires and talents would thrive.

‘Hey, daydreamer,' Sylvie called from inside. ‘Get your ass in here. We've got a dress rehearsal to prepare for.'

‘
HEY! WHAT'S THE
game?'

‘Hit the lights, for fuck's sake!'

‘I can't see a thing – will someone get those sparkies moving? We're trying to work down here!'

‘Can we get some light onstage please? White floods will do.' Robert's voice cut smoothly through the confused darkness of the tent. The stage was smothered in velvety blackness and tangles of cables were heaped haphazardly among the equipment, making moving around a dangerous operation. Julia was tucked in behind the curtains at the back, wearing her slave-girl wrapper and watching intently. The tent was a chaotic industrial scene, with the muscular roustabouts and stage crew busily adjusting the scaffolds and working on the next set. The vast circular platform of the stage, covered with stretched canvas, sat resplendent in the midst of the racks of folding seats. It could be seen from almost every angle, and Julia was aware that when performing she would be enclosed by a ring of strangers, rather than facing the audience as she was used to. Her performance had to be flawless – she would be totally exposed.