Circus Excite

by Nikki Magennis

  ‘I’d like to feel you do that.’

  ‘You want to act it out?’ Robert’s voice was low and even.

  ‘I want to lie face down and hear you move around behind me. I want to feel your hands on me.’

  Robert watched her closely, but made no move to touch her.

  ‘Imagine your tongue pushing into me. Imagine how I’d taste.’ Julia’s heart was thudding in her chest, the words spilling from her mouth shocking her even as they did so. She hadn’t ever told Robert explicitly what she wanted, and although she’d shown him how much he aroused her she had never spoken so boldly before.

  ‘Is that all you want me to do?’ he asked.

  ‘I want you to do everything in these pictures. I want you to touch me, and lick me and fuck me.’ As she spoke, Julia felt herself growing more heated, wanting so badly for Robert to respond to her suggestions she thought the lack of his touch was almost painful.

  Closing her eyes, she let the feeling grow inside her, imagining Robert reaching out for her, pushing her onto the floor and leaning the weight of his body over her.

  ‘I think I’m learning how it’s beautiful not to touch. It’s difficult, like walking a tightrope.’ She smiled, opening her eyes again to look at him. ‘But I think I understand. I want you to watch me, and every time you see me, I want you to ache for me.’

  Inside the caravan was still and silent, only the sounds of birdsong filtering in from trees surrounding them, the shaded hush of the Meadows outside. Julia felt the sensation of longing stretching within her and growing in the silence, as though it was altering her from the inside. It was a curious feeling, to want something and not act on it, but instead allow the wanting to course through her veins till it was a physical presence in itself. She felt her lips tingling with the desire to press them against Robert’s skin: her fingers itched as though the need for his flesh were an irritation. Inside she felt as though she were being pulled in several directions at once, as though the memories of the summer’s erotic encounters were imprinted on her body and were replaying now, echoes of desire flickering across her skin.

  ‘You look so fucking good right now,’ Robert murmured, bringing her back to the present with a jolt. ‘I love watching you get turned on.’

  ‘I want you to fuck me with your eyes.’

  ‘Oh, I am Julia, I am. Your nipples are getting stiff. Sticking out like it’s cold.’

  ‘What else?’ she murmured.

  ‘Your cheeks are flushed. You’re biting your lip. You look like a woman looks when she’s being fucked. As though I’m inside you right now.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  Robert laughed again, amused by Julia’s entreaties.

  ‘Not yet, darling, not yet. For now, just enjoy showing yourself to me.’

  ‘And later?’

  ‘Who can tell?’ Robert was still teasing her, even though Julia knew he was turned on. ‘Anything’s possible.’

  His voice was heavy with mystery, as playful as it had been the first time Julia had met him, when she’d auditioned for him. Only now she sensed more to it, a hint of promise that left her hanging on, waiting for more. She had the feeling she was edging ever closer to him, learning more about her own desires and simultaneously uncovering glimpses of Robert, suggestions of the games he liked to play, the games he wanted to play with her. If only she could find the secret, she thought, she could win the game and take Robert to her bed. The thought drifted through her mind like the lightest touch of a lover, stroking slowly, achingly slowly, over her.

  15

  ‘SEXY PICTURE,’ SAID Sylvie, as Julia hung the framed photo above her narrow cot. ‘Who’s the girl?’

  Julia smiled as she looked at the joyous figure of Josephine Baker, cart-wheeling over the back of her dance partner.

  ‘The most inspirational dancer that ever lived.’

  After her trip to the hill and the hours with Robert, Julia had slept for a deep dreamless twelve hours and woken with a sense that her world had changed irrevocably. As she lay in bed, feeling the aching muscles of her legs and the stiffness of her body after the long strange night, she imagined her body itself had undergone some transformation. It was as though the hours on the hill and her voyage of erotic history with Robert had taken her to a new place, where her sexual life had fused with the circus and turned her into a new creature. She felt as though her sensuality shimmered over her skin; the sensation of being watched and admired had polished her body till every movement she made was part of a sexual display. As she rose and stretched, she remembered the difficult pleasures she’d found at dance school, the joy there was in pushing herself to new and harder disciplines. Her body hadn’t forgotten the sweet feeling there was from working through pain, and for the first time in months she felt the urge to practise.

  In the empty tent, in the quiet space with daylight filtering softly through the canvas and turning the stage into a half-lit platform, Julia gripped a bar of the scaffold and started stretching. Around her the roustabouts came and went. Julia barely nodded to them as she absorbed herself in a simple sequence of exercises, feeling with delight her body’s remembered response to the movements. The old positions seemed infused now with a new sensuality, and even in a simple plié Julia felt her hips arching, her breasts swaying gently. It was a wonderful surprise to find her old routines fitting so beautifully with the sensuality of her body, as though she’d finally discovered the secret of how to dance her own way. She moved now with a new freedom, a mixture of the discipline of dance school and the daring of the circus, and as before she felt the silent rhythms pulse through her body, a beat that echoed the rocking motions of sex, the push and pull of forces moving through her. Slipping lithely over the stage, dropping suddenly to the floor, winding herself around the centre poles that surrounded the stage, Julia lost herself in the pure joy of sensual movement. The sweat beaded on her skin, and she tasted the salt of it as she worked, breathing hard and abandoning herself to her body’s instinctive desire to move. As she danced, Julia felt herself still turned on, as though a switch had been flicked and she could no longer distinguish the act of dancing from the act of love. Every bump of her hips was like the thrust of a woman fucking, every time her hands trailed over her chest she felt the stiff points of her nipples, teased to an agonising hardness.

  It was dancing with the discipline and grace of her training, but now she was so suffused with the pervasive movements of seduction, Julia knew her body lent a new sensuality to the actions. She was all curving leg muscles, rounded ass and softly swelling breasts, the lines of her drawn like one of Robert’s lithographs, depicting a woman whose life revolved around the pleasure her own body brought her. Instead of trying to keep her movements straight-backed and cold, Julia found she was happy to give in to this new swaying sensuality. As she danced over the stage, her thighs rubbed gently together and excited her sex, and she felt her silky smooth skin tingle with arousal. She was using the movements of a stripper, bucking herself against the floor, rubbing slowly against the dusty canvas of the stage so that her body rocked upward, pushing her breasts out as though presenting them to be fondled.

  While she felt her arousal grow, Julia let her thoughts drift back to Robert, his face as he surveyed her, as he flicked through his pornographic scrapbooks.

  He was her audience, she realised; even in his absence she was aware of his intense horny gaze. And every movement she made was an effort to bring him closer to her, to show him a little more of her inner sexual life. Her dancing slowed as she let the images run through her mind – Robert watching her as Joe fucked her; as Sylvie licked her; taking photos; as she was passed between the two men he’d arranged for her; his collection of pictures; his voracious appetite for the spectacle of sex. She almost came to a standstill on the dark stage as she let the idea form slowly in her head. Standing with her arms hanging loosely by her sides, Julia suddenly realised what she had to do.

  With a mixture of fear and excitement, she le
t the plan form, imagining a new dance, an act that centred on her summer’s adventures, a mixture of voyeurism and provocation. Looking around at the rows of seats circling the stage, Julia imagined the audience, their reactions. She visualised a performance that they would be an integral part of – a show that they would never forget, that would turn them on and disturb them in equal measures. In her imagination, the seats filled with eager horny audience members, and the glint of the lights caught in their eyes, reflecting back the dazzling orgiastic display of the stage. She thought of the men in Blackpool, their hunger to touch her. She remembered Robert’s camera, his desire to capture the image of her, the sight of her undone and splayed open.

  Walking slowly back and forth across the stage, occasionally slipping into a loose dance move, Julia pondered. As she let the sweat cool on her skin, she allowed herself to fantasise. By the time she climbed down from the stage, wiping her neck with her shirt, she was biting her lip in concentration.

  It was a new kind of arousal. The idea had turned her on, in a very real way: she felt the warmth spreading from her core to the tips of her nipples, like the familiar agitation she felt when she worked with Robert. Julia was horny, as she often was after her performances, but this time she wanted more than to relieve her frustration with mindless fucking. This time her arousal was making ideas well up in her, thoughts that tumbled into forms, into movement. She was dreaming of a new dance, a new act.

  As she returned to the caravan, half entranced with the vision that was forming in her mind, Julia remembered her inspiration – the picture of Baker in the Dance of the Savages – and resolved to work for this new dream of hers with more dedication than ever before.

  She had hung the photograph above her bed and let Sylvie admire the figure of the young Josephine with her. Beautiful as her nubile body was, there was another quality that drew Julia to the photograph. It was some spark of daring, of rebellious spirit, that made her shake her head in admiration when she imagined the teenaged Baker flinging herself onto the Paris stage and causing a scandalous reaction with her naked, sexual dance.

  Sylvie drew her finger over the curves of the photograph, murmuring as she did so.

  ‘The beautiful form, n’est ce pas? It gives me a buzz just looking at her.’

  ‘Sylvie,’ said Julia slowly, thinking as she spoke, ‘you choreographed your own act, didn’t you?’

  ‘Of course I did.’ Sylvie almost spat with fierce pride. ‘From the very first conception to the last stitch of the costume.’

  Julia nodded. She knew she wouldn’t be able to pull off the new idea that was slowly forming without help from others. She could count on Sylvie, Joe and Henri, she was sure. But the visions she had in mind would need more than able performers. She would need lights, music, costumes.

  Looking at the photo again, Julia studied the beads and feathers of the dancers, the minimal costumes that had caused such mayhem in 1920s European society. Josephine wore a curling plume of an ostrich feather between her legs, and smiled as though it tickled her deliciously. Her nakedness was enhanced by the shocking scant costume. Julia knew the value of dressing a nude figure just enough to provoke the audience’s imagination.

  ‘Eva has a stack of old costumes in the trailer, doesn’t she? Left over stuff from old shows?’ she asked.

  ‘No doubt. She never throws anything away.’ Sylvie shrugged. She eyed Julia curiously, aware that the new girl was acting in a manner that she hadn’t seen before, with a confidence and mysterious determination that Sylvie thought she recognised.

  ‘Julia,’ she asked, ‘what exactly went on last night in Robert’s caravan? What are you planning?’

  There were four days till the circus opened in Edinburgh, and the performers were making the most of the break, taking in the riotous buzz of the city in full Festival swing. It was as if, Julia thought, the whole city was a circus, a non-stop pageant of spectacle and theatre that engulfed the ancient streets and filled the town with colour. The performers left the site almost deserted, heading into town every afternoon and returning in the small hours of the morning. The circus fell quiet in these hours, when usually groups of the company chatted outside their caravans and practised acrobatics out on the grass. For a few days, Julia realised, she would have the time and space she needed to develop her idea. The tent was set up and lying empty, and she could practise onstage without interruption.

  While the other members of the company indulged in all the pleasures of the swarming streets and bars, Julia worked. The germ of an idea that had come to her as she danced was now gathering momentum, and she found the people she asked for help were as intrigued by the plan as she was. Eva seemed more than willing to put together costumes, finding armfuls of ostrich feathers and sequins in crates in the costume van, advising Julia on how to fix the outfits so that they draped well and allowed the performer to move easily. Julia had little time, but found Eva’s expert eye could put together an outfit with lightning speed, knowing just which parts of the body to emphasise, which to hide under tantalising strings of beads or scraps of silk. It took only a couple of hours to come to an agreement with the older woman, who was excited to be working on something more intriguing than mending hems. Julia left her with sketches of figures and costumes, and a promise that the costumes would be finished in time for the rehearsal.

  She spent hours with Joe examining the lighting board, working out how to use coloured gels and spotlights to enhance the movement onstage, planning her spectacle in minute detail. It was a new aspect of performing that she hadn’t considered before – thinking of the best ways to realise her initial vision and working out how to get the effects right onstage was something that had always been left to others. But she enjoyed working with Joe, their rough banter and hastily snatched fumbles under the shadow of the lighting box providing some moments of laughter even as Julia’s anxiety grew. She flirted with him just enough to keep him interested in the project, promising later he could join her for a celebratory fuck if the show came off well. But despite her flippant promises, she was aware of the dangerous territory she was treading. The preparations would be the easiest part.

  The hardest would be persuading Robert to watch it, and she thought with trepidation of the time when she’d have to confront him. He’d been withdrawn and virtually absent since the company arrived in Edinburgh, hardly leaving his quarters. Although she felt she’d lightened his mood that night in the caravan, Julia knew the threat of disaster was weighing on his mind. The review had subdued their arrival in Edinburgh, and the shadow of bad press still hung over the circus. She knew Robert bore the heaviest burden of the pressure, but she needed to find a way to get through to him. Leaving the problem to later, she concentrated on her frantic preparations, and confronted the other problem which had dogged her since she conceived the idea.

  Her act included some complex tech gear, and Julia despaired of how she would find the money for the equipment she needed – until she explained to Henri exactly what she wanted to do. After a few hours, he turned up at the site in a van, the back of which was filled with sleek black suitcases and neatly coiled cables. With a smile he explained to Julia that he had contacts in a theatre in town, and he’d managed to borrow most of what she needed for a couple of weeks.

  ‘Henri, this is amazing. You are amazing,’ Julia said, overwhelmed, reaching up high to nuzzle into the older man’s cheek. ‘I owe you big time.’

  She looked over the complicated machinery, the tiny buttons labelled with incomprehensible names and colour-coded wires. The thought of what she was trying to do suddenly overwhelmed her, and she felt panic rising in her.

  ‘Henri, how do I work all this stuff? It’s a nightmare.’

  Henri just smiled his sorrowful enigmatic smile, and tapped the side of his nose.

  ‘You leave the detail to your technical staff, Julia. If you’re going to be a stage manager, you have to learn to delegate.’

  He gave her an affectionate squeeze, before l
etting his long bony fingers trace a gentle line over her cleavage.

  ‘You bring us the juicy ideas, my dear, and we’ll help bring your dreams to life.’

  As her plan became more detailed, and involved more people, Julia felt her energy levels rise to fever pitch. She was working harder than she ever had before, enlisting the help of the stage crew and her fellow performers, cajoling them to help with a mixture of pleading and flirtation, swearing all of them to secrecy for fear of Robert getting a whiff of what was going on. As the days passed horrifyingly swiftly, Julia was more and more keenly aware of how crucial it would be to take him by surprise. She knew he wasn’t a man to be easily persuaded, and the danger was that she was straying into his territory by planning a new act, daring to compete with a man of vast experience and charisma. Yet her determination grew along with her anxieties, as though the project had become something larger than herself. As she rehearsed the moves of the piece by herself in the tent, Julia sensed she was creating something that went beyond a dazzling piece of showmanship. The central idea of the piece was so dangerous it gave her thrills to think of it. She had no idea of how the audience might react, and was mindful of stories of the chaos that ensued after Josephine Baker’s debut – crowds leaving the theatre, shocked and bewildered.

  But none of her misgivings seemed to dissuade her. She was intent on giving this idea her best, putting all of her feelings on sex and her body, on theatre and the audience, into a single ten-minute explosion of incredible sensory overload.

  After three days, Julia knew she couldn’t delay the moment any longer. Robert would have to see the show. There was a dress rehearsal that afternoon, a refresher after the company had rested for those few days, and now was the only time to show him. Robert would be in the tent, overseeing the final preparations.

  Trembling with nerves, she entered the tent and waited for her eyes to adjust to the murky light inside. He was standing by the curtains, watching the boys adjust the lights, a morose look on his face. Julia was unnerved by the change in him – before, Robert had been a silent presence, but his being there was enough to drive the company to its utmost efforts. Today, he looked pale and worried, as though he was uncertain of his own decisions. Julia approached with a sense of foreboding, steeling herself to ask his permission for an unheard-of favour.