by L.H. Cosway
“I need a shower,” I sighed.
Jack glanced up from his book, a quizzical arch to his brow. “What does Teutonic mean?”
His question caught me off guard, and I scratched at my head, trying to remember. “Oh, I think it’s similar to Germanic, or relating to an ancient race of German people called the Teutons. Don’t ask me for more details — I was always crap at history.”
A little smile graced his mouth as he plucked a pencil from behind his ear and scribbled down a note. “Thanks.”
“No problem. So, is it okay if I shower?”
When his eyes came to me again, they were heated. “Only if you promise not to wear a towel when you get out.”
I laughed and shook my head as I turned for the bathroom. “We’ll see.”
I noticed his eyes had been flickering to my sketchpad when I was in the room, so it wasn’t a surprise when he called after me, “Can I look at your pictures?”
I hesitated a moment in the hallway. I was self-conscious about my work, but Jack had already seen most of it, so I shrugged and answered, “Yeah, sure.” And honestly, I was a little bit flattered that he wanted to look at them. When I emerged from the shower, I considered his no-towel request, but I wasn’t ballsy enough to go through with it. Instead, I pulled on my sleep shorts and tank top, which really didn’t leave much to the imagination anyway. And technically, I was fulfilling his request, since I wasn’t wearing a towel.
All thoughts of towels fled my mind when I stepped inside his room again to find him with my sketchpad open on his lap. He wasn’t looking at the sketches, though. He had a piece of paper in his hands, his eyes scanning the words as he read.
It was my list.
Sixteen
A discovery made Lille’s heart pound
Oh, God. I’d tucked it into my sketchpad the other day and forgot about it. Now Jack was holding it in his hands, reading it, and my mortification was palpable.
His attention landed on me, but I couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The list made me look like a silly little girl, I knew that, but I didn’t care because I’d never planned for anyone to read it but me. It was my comfort blanket, something to remind me of my goals and ambitions, ridiculous though some of them might seem. I took a steadying breath and swallowed.
My voice was tense when I held my hand out and requested, “Can I have that back, please?”
Jack stared at me, and the numbered items ran through my head. I knew them off by heart. Aside from numbers 3, 6, and 11, there wasn’t anything on there to embarrass me too much. Still, I felt exposed.
Dump Henry Jackson.
Get a tattoo.
Have sex with a stranger.
Do something dangerous.
Visit a place I’ve never been before.
Fall in love.
Make a new friend.
Quit my degree.
Become a real artist.
Move out of my mother’s house.
Get my heart broken.
The first thing Jack said was not what I expected at all. “Who’s Henry Jackson?”
I let out a long breath and came to sit beside him, running my suddenly sweaty palms against the fabric of my shorts.
“You shouldn’t be reading that. It’s private.” I knew I was being a little unfair, since I’d read his discarded letter to his brother, but I couldn’t help my annoyance. I tried to convince myself that turnaround was fair play, and my irritation slowly deflated. Plus, if I had found a similar list among Jack’s things, I was pretty sure my curiosity would have gotten the better of me, too.
Jack reached out and pulled me close, tucking me under his arm as he continued to hold the list in front of him. I rested my head on his chest and could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was reassuring somehow.
“I thought it was a sketch,” Jack explained.
“Mm-hmm.”
A beat of silence elapsed. “So, who is he?” If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a note of insecurity in his tone, and I was taken aback. Jack was jealous of the idea of me with someone else. At the very least, he wasn’t thrilled to be thinking about it. My little beating heart and its ever-growing feelings for him was over the moon.
“My ex, obviously,” I answered, peering up at him speculatively.
“How long were you with him?”
“Two years, but it wasn’t serious. He was…I don’t know. Safe, maybe? You know how sometimes you’d rather be with anyone over no one?” Jack’s nod was infinitesimal, but it was there. I guessed he was thinking of Julie and how his loneliness, at least physically, had propelled him to being with her because she was available. His finger scrolled down my list until it stopped at number four. “This one is stupid. Why would you willingly put yourself in harm’s way?”
I let out a tiny laugh. “Coming from the guy who risks his life every night as part of his job?”
He only stared at me, hard. I swallowed, shrugged, and finally answered, “To feel alive, I guess. My life growing up has consisted of a sequence of straight lines. I wanted to throw in a couple of curves and dips, you know. Take a risk, the same as you.”
“It’s not the same, but I see your point.”
“Anyway,” I went on teasingly, “I think I’ve ticked this item off my list. Being with you is pretty dangerous, right?”
My humour was lost on him; in fact, I’d never seen him frown so hard. “Is that how you see me? As a little dip in your straight line? Because if you’re angling to get hurt by me, I’ll put you straight right now. It won’t happen. I will not be your number eleven, Lille. My hesitancy to be with you was indicative of my apprehension as to whether or not I could control myself. Yes, I get off on giving you a little pain, but I will always be controlled, highly so. If I hurt you, it will be momentary, and it will be followed by pleasure. This is the promise I’ve made to myself. And I will never burn you in a way that would cause permanent physical damage. You may be left with a few marks, but they’ll be the kind that heal. I don’t want to feel like a monster, not anymore.” He paused his passionate speech to take my hand in his and bring it to the scars on his shoulder. “You will never wear scars like I do, Lille, do you understand?”
I blinked at him, my throat suddenly dry as my heart pounded in my chest. For years this man had been living under the assumption that he was sick, that there was something wrong with him on the inside, when really he was just different. Changed by experience. And really, he was far more noble than most. Far more worthy of trust, and I didn’t think for a second that he would ever hurt me, not intentionally anyway.
We fell into a strange sort of quiet, still resting close, still touching.
“You’ve completed almost all of these,” Jack said then, and I realised he was talking about the list again.
“I know. It feels crazy. I never thought I’d actually do them all. I thought they’d each take a great effort, but by deciding to join the circus, one thing just kind of followed the other.” He made a little grunting sound, and I glanced at him. “What?”
Instead of replying, he reached for the pencil that was tucked behind his ear, the one he’d used earlier to scribble a note in his book. He brought it to the list and drew a distinct line through number three.
3. Have sex with a stranger
“You’re not doing that one,” he said, voice a firm growl.
I couldn’t contain my grin. “Oh, yeah, well, maybe I already have.”
I swear to God, his expression went so dark I was a little frightened. I really needed to start learning what I could and couldn’t tease him about. “Excuse me?”
“With you, you idiot! You’re my stranger.” I nuzzled affectionately at the spot just below his ear.
Almost as quickly as it came, all of the tension went out of him. His thumb brushed my shoulder, while the other hand spread out warm and tingly on my belly. He was practically purring now. “I am far from a stranger to you. In fact, that night you knew me
better than anyone.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, savouring his purring cadence. His voice was pure sex sometimes, so intimate. God, I wanted him inside me, but I was so tired my muscles ached. My body was at once begging me for sleep and squirming for Jack’s cock. I think he saw the thought pass over my face, because he gave me a slow, lazy grin.
“You want me inside you, flower?” he asked in a seductive whisper, tongue licking at the shell of my ear and sending tingles all the way down my spine.
I stared at his bare, muscular torso and groaned, “Yes, but I’m so tired.”
He moved so he was on top of me, pulling my legs around his waist. “That’s actually perfect. Tonight, I want to give rather than take.”
I knew he had to be referring to our tryst backstage in the Spiegeltent earlier today, where I’d gone down on him. The memory gave me a pleasant shudder, and at the same time I wondered about his statement. If he didn’t want to take tonight, then what did he want to give? I watched with rapt attention as he reached over to his bedside dresser and pulled open a drawer. He retrieved a small black leather box and set it on the bed beside me. I got the sense that he wanted me to open it, so I picked it up and lifted the lid. Inside were several pieces of metal. One was long and thin, like a small wand, and the others were silver hoops, both equal in size.
“What are they?” I asked, taking one of the hoops and looping it through my fingers.
“Toys,” Jack answered, studying my reaction with care. “They’re quite specialist, actually. They’re new, too. I haven’t used them on anyone else.”
“What do they do?” I asked breathily as my eyes rose to meet his.
His gaze darkened. “Would you like me to show you?”
Quietly, I nodded, and he took the hoops from me. Grabbing a lighter, he lit one of the candles from the other night. I noticed they were specialist, too, as I read the label. They were sex candles, for lack of a better word, designed specifically for pouring wax onto your lover. They must have been less damaging to the skin, because the marks that had been on my lower back were almost completely gone by morning.
Jack held each metal hoop over the flame for several seconds, then instructed me to strip. Within moments my pyjamas were off. The room was dark, and the glow of the candles made me feel lazy and pliant. Jack studied my body for a long time, his gaze alone making my nipples harden as he brought the hot metal to me and ran it over my skin. I hissed in a breath at the warmth, and it felt a little like when you place your hand against a radiator that’s too hot. The metal was so thin, though, which made the sting bearable. He ran each hoop up and down my stomach before grazing them leisurely over the peaks of my breasts, until they rested around the circumference of each nipple. My breathing was heavy, my heart racing in anticipation.
“The metal holds the heat for about ten minutes,” Jack said, eyes all aglow as he absorbed the sight of me lying there, hot and needy. My breasts had never felt fuller with sensation. My nipples were almost painfully hard, the metal hoops sending thrilling spikes right to their tips.
“How does that feel, flower?” Jack asked as he rubbed my belly soothingly with his big hand.
I squirmed and let out a sound of undiluted pleasure. My words were choppy. “K-kind of m-mind-blowing.”
He chuckled. “I’m not done with you yet.” Moving down my body until his head was between my legs, he spread my thighs wide, bent forward, and licked lightly at my clit. All the while, his eyes moved from the hoops on my breasts to my face and then back again.
I could tell from the intensity of his gaze that the sight was giving him an immense amount of pleasure. His tongue lapped at me, going deeper each time until he found my entrance and slid inside. I fisted the sheets, my hips rising at the soft, silky feel of him. With the metal on my skin, several of my erogenous zones had been awakened. I’d never felt anything like it before. Jack’s mouth worked my body to a crescendo, every lick focused and intent on making me come. His fingers replaced his tongue inside me, pumping in a mesmerising rhythm, while his thumb went to my clit. He kept licking until I shattered, my body bucking and my skin tingling, as wave upon wave flooded me. I moaned long and hard, and was vaguely aware of Jack moving away from me, but I was too lost in my orgasm to pay too close attention.
When he came back, he held the wand in his hand. He ran it along my shoulders, and it was hot to the touch, just like the hoops. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, just feeling as he ran along every dip and curve, over my hip, down my thigh, along the back of my knee. His breathing was slow and focused, like he was concentrating on every tiny detail, every minuscule reaction the hot metal elicited from me. I watched how his arms moved, how the muscles contracted and released, and it was way too sexy. I could have come again if I wasn’t so exhausted. Soon, as the wand continued its voyage around my body, my eyes drifted closed. The hot sting started to feel like a warm caress, and that caress was lulling me to slumber.
“That’s it, go to sleep, beautiful,” I heard Jack whisper before exhaustion pulled me under.
The days began to blend into a sequence of shows, spending time with Jack, working on my art, travelling, and having earth-shattering sex that involved heat and pleasure and pain, and it was blowing my mind. Jack and I grew quietly closer. I say quietly, because when we were around each other, it was never long before our eyes met, before our bodies were touching in whatever small way we could manage.
But still, we spoke no words. We didn’t apply any labels, and it was oddly reassuring. I didn’t feel like I needed to chain him down and plaster a “boyfriend” sticker over his forehead. I felt like he was with me because he wanted to be, and if he didn’t want me anymore, then I’d know about it.
Julie kept her distance, mostly because it felt like all eyes were on her now. Ever since news had travelled of her attack, people became wary. Marina had given her a firm and final warning, so she was on her best behaviour. One thing was for certain, her performances never wavered. I marvelled at how she could be so crazy, yet it never translated over into her art. Or perhaps she was so good at her art because she was crazy.
The circus had moved its way through France and was now stopping in the city of Turin in Italy. Having lived on an island my entire life, it was amazing to think how we could be on the same land, yet move into a whole other country. One moment you’re in France, the next you’re in Italy. Turin was an impressive city, with beautiful architecture that was overlooked by the Alps. It was perhaps the most majestic place we’d been yet, and the shows were selling out every night.
I was putting away my face paints as the music I recognised for Jack’s act played inside the tent. I smiled at the edgy rhythm as I went about my task in my own little bubble, until a familiar voice broke through and almost stopped my heart from beating.
“Hurry up, Benjamin, we haven’t got much time,” my mother snipped as her PA hurried to try to keep pace with her. There was only one thought in my head as I stood there, frozen in place.
She found me.
This thought was followed by a number of expletives, and a distinct and tangible feeling of dread. Her heels clicked on the wooden panels set out at the entrance to the tent. The sound of those heels clicking would forever remind me of her, and was probably the reason why more often than not I chose to wear flats. My throat tightened, my skin grew clammy, and though I was out in the open, I suddenly felt like I couldn’t find enough air to breathe.
I couldn’t decide whether I should hide or go right up and confront her. She had no right to be here, and if she thought that somehow she was going to bring me home, she had another thing coming. A month ago I would have hidden, and even though in the grand scale of things a month was not a very long time, I wasn’t the same person I had been then. I felt stronger, less naïve. Yes, I still wanted to have an adventure, but I now knew that with every adventure came very real dangers, and I couldn’t simply throw caution to the wind like I used to think I could.
Maybe living life also meant doing things that were hard and sometimes scary. And confronting my mother right now was definitely scary. Before I could hesitate a moment longer, the word was out of my mouth.
“Mum,” I called.
She turned on her heel, straightened out her pencil skirt, and swung to face me. Her expression ran the gamut of surprised to relieved to angry in a heartbeat.
“Lillian!” she exclaimed, and began walking towards me. “Have you any idea of the trouble we’ve been through trying to find you?”
“You shouldn’t have come,” I said, folding my arms and standing my ground. I made a concerted effort not to stutter. Benjamin gave me a cynical look up and down. He’d been working for Mum for years and was the kind of sycophant who kept her thinking she was a wonderful person, instead of what she truly was, i.e. cold and mean.
“We’re taking you home,” Mum said, coming forward and grabbing a hold of my arm. “Our flight leaves in a couple of hours, and we don’t want to miss it.”
I jerked away from her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, she looked like she was about to burst a blood vessel. “We just spent over four hours on a plane to come here. Don’t be so ungrateful. If you’re worried about not having enough money for the flight, there’s no need. I already booked you a ticket.”
I laughed involuntarily. “Oh, a whole four hours, what a sacrifice. And it’s not about the money. I’m staying here because I want to. I’m happy.”
Her impatience was clear on her face. “You’re supposed to be starting back at college in a fortnight. You might as well come home now. It’s the best solution for everyone.”
And that was exactly why she was here. It wasn’t because she genuinely cared about my well-being. She just didn’t want me dropping out of college and making a show of her in the process. I was sure if she’d really wanted to, she could have come and found me long before now. But no, this sudden intervention was because the new semester was just two weeks away, and Mum wanted me there in the lecture hall, playing the part of her studious little daughter.