Circus Excite

by Nikki Magennis

  The lights dropped with split-second precision, at the exact moment the music built to an almost unbearable level and then ceased, leaving the audience breathless and dazed, plunged suddenly into the dark and suffocating silence of the tent.

  Onstage, Julia lay panting under Joe, sweat running in rivulets down her back, chest heaving with the effort of her exertions. She hardly dared to move, terrified of what the reaction might be. Had she pushed it too far? Mauling members of the audience might be enough to infuriate Robert. As she listened to the silence in the blacked-out tent, Julia felt her worst anxieties start to loom over her. There was no sound other than the ragged breathing of the performers onstage.

  Then, just as Julia thought she would have to steel herself for the disgrace due to her, the house lights started to glow dimly. A shout rang out – Rachel’s voice, Julia realised, incredulous:

  ‘Bravo!’

  The shout was brief, but strong and decisive, and it seemed enough to open the floodgates for the rest of the raggle-taggle audience to start. Gradually at first, and then with growing volume, a torrent of claps, whistles and shouts flowed over the stage. Feeling relief and delight surge through her, Julia pulled herself slowly to her feet and took in the sight of the entire circus applauding her. Their faces were stunned, but smiling delightedly, heads shaking as they saluted her outrageous spectacle. And Rachel stood at the back clapping loudly. Julia felt a particular rush of unexpected pleasure in noting her most formidable enemy applauding her.

  It was far from a full house, nor even a true paying audience, but Julia was keenly aware of the high standards of her fellow performers and their long ovation was more than she could have dared to wish for. As she gave a brief buoyant bow and tripped off the stage, she felt almost on the verge of tears. It was her first show, choreographed, planned and executed according to her vision. She gave Sylvie a fierce hug backstage, whispering her thanks in the girl’s ear.

  ‘I couldn’t have done it without you,’ she said.

  Sylvie laughed, and squeezed Julia back tightly, giving her a playful pat on the bottom. Sweating and breathing heavily, she was nevertheless smiling gamely at Julia, who was well aware of the risk the other girl had taken to perform without Robert’s blessing.

  ‘Always happy to help a fellow artist, girl. Especially when the act’s as hot as that one.’

  In the midst of the bustle backstage, even as she thanked all the others who’d given their time and effort to help her pull it off, Julia was mindful of the hovering presence of Robert. As usual he’d watched from the wings, from where he had an optimum view of both the stage and the audience, and now Julia caught sight of his tall figure standing by the curtain. His head was buried in a sheaf of papers, and Julia felt her heart lurch as she wondered for a moment if he’d even watched the act. Brow furrowed, he was leafing through the papers in his hand, giving no indication he was even aware of her standing a few feet from him.

  Julia was still wearing her scant costume of beads and glitter, but somehow her near-nakedness seemed to give her confidence rather than make her feel vulnerable – as though she were draped in the success of the piece she’d devised. Walking towards Robert, she bit her lip nervously, hardly daring to imagine what his response might be. Her fellow performers had loved it, of that she was sure, and from the buzz of adrenaline now surging through her veins, Julia knew that there was something to the act that went beyond a simple spectacle. She’d created a work of art, from the things she felt most passionately about, from her experiences of the summer and her long training in dance. It was her finest achievement yet, and she was high from the feeling.

  ‘Robert?’ she asked, standing before him, her nudity defiantly on show. Around them the crew and performers were hustling around, now making ready for the dress rehearsal, and Julia stood her ground, trying not to let the jostling technicians get in between her and Robert. He looked up briefly.

  ‘Julia.’ He nodded, curtly. ‘Nice act.’

  It was his usual understated response, but Julia felt pride flood over her. He hadn’t sneered at her, nor had he exploded with rage. And his carefully meted out praise meant more to Julia than the entire response of the rest of the company.

  ‘Does that mean I can perform it for the run?’ she asked, impatience overcoming her hesitation.

  Now Robert did laugh; a short bitter chuckle.

  ‘Julia, the production values were good, and there were some interesting ideas in there. But there is absolutely no way I’d let you toy with members of the audience, planted or not. We’d have mass walk-outs, refunds, chaos. I can’t afford to take that kind of chance.’

  Julia felt her heart swoop down with disappointment, and then crackle with anger. She wanted to lash out at Robert suddenly. Yet again, he was refusing her the one thing that she wanted most, and this time she felt sure that he was unjustified. Jealous, even.

  ‘It’s a risk, I know. I’ve never done this before, Robert,’ she admitted. ‘But you heard what the crowd thought. They loved it! Surely their opinion counts for something?’

  Now Robert looked at her, a brisk businesslike stare.

  ‘Julia, your audience are performers who work in this world day in, day out. They’re pretty hard to shock. Do you really think your average Festival goer is used to seeing things like this? We’re treading a thin line as it is, Julia. The licence is under threat, the show is on the verge of attack from that damn journalist, and I’ll be happy to make it to the end of the run, let alone escape a scandal. There is no way we can get away with stripping audience members onstage.’

  His tone was curt and Julia knew she should hold herself back, but she couldn’t help herself. Her emotions were stretched to breaking point as she felt herself once again standing vulnerable before Robert and being cut down to size.

  ‘Since when were you scared to take a risk, Robert? I thought that was the whole point of the show, of your work? In fact, I never imagined you’d back away from a challenge, or let some shoddy journalist scare you like this.’

  Robert’s eyes burned darkly with anger, and Julia realised with a start she’d hit a nerve. With terrifying self-control, he let his gaze drift down over Julia’s sweat-soaked trembling body and brought his eyes back to meet hers.

  ‘Julia, you’re a talented dancer. And I told you the act was fair. Promising, even. But remember what you were hired for. Remember what I use you for.’

  His words stung Julia even as they set off a chain reaction of pictures in her head: Robert’s cool piercing stare as she lost herself in bizarre sexual encounters that he engineered; the feeling that she was tumbling further into a dangerous mysterious world of sexual adventure; the trembling that he seemed to cause every time he turned her on and kept her hovering at a distance, desperate for his touch and battling not to show her desperation. He used her, he was freely admitting it. She felt suddenly as though the ground had been swept from beneath her feet – she was nothing but a plaything for his twisted fantasies, an object to be enjoyed when he wanted a little live sex show, another curio in his harem.

  She felt the tears prickle behind her eyes and a flush rise in her cheeks, and even though she struggled to keep herself calm, Julia knew she was about to say something she’d regret.

  ‘I won’t forget the people I’ve fucked for your pleasure. I enjoyed them. It’s just a shame you don’t have the guts to say what you really want, and you’ll never know just how good it is to fuck me yourself.’

  She knew she’d already stepped over the line. Even if she and Robert had shared the darkest intimacies, he remained her boss, and was more than capable of ending her career there and then. Recklessly, she blurted her parting shot:

  ‘I know what you really are Robert: a coward hiding in the shadows. You’re just forcing other people to indulge your perversions.’

  Robert watched calmly, his face betraying no flicker of a response.

  ‘Finished, Julia?’ he asked. ‘I think you’d better go and change. Sor
t your face out as well please, I don’t want you going onstage with eyes that puffy.’

  He turned back to the rest of the company, apparently signalling the end of the conversation with Julia. She stood, spent, swaying slightly, as though she’d just fought six rounds and lost. Turning one last time, Robert motioned her brusquely to leave the tent.

  ‘I told you. Cold water on your face, and back here in costume. Half an hour. Move.’

  Numbly, Julia walked in the direction he indicated, feeling her dream fall in tatters around her. As she emerged into the afternoon sunlight, dazzling after the gloom of the tent, she felt the last of her energy drain from her and walked slowly towards her caravan. She barely noticed as Joe approached, grinning broadly and eager to hear how Robert had reacted.

  ‘So, what happened?’ he asked, searching Julia’s face anxiously for her response, and quickly gathering that she’d been turned down flat. He heaved a sigh.

  ‘No cigar, hey? Sod it, Julia, it was a long shot anyway, babe. Pretty good effort for a girl in her first professional job, don’t you think?’

  Julia shrugged, unable to find the words to agree with him. Trying to console her, he looped a heavy arm over her shoulder and squeezed.

  ‘I bet Josephine Baker had to work at it before she got to shake her tush in Paris, too. Julia?’

  Remembering the story of Josephine’s earth-shattering appearance at the Folies Bergère, Julia felt a spark of her dream glow again deep inside her. The reaction to Josephine’s magnificent nudity, her barbarous eroticism, had frightened the young starlet so much she ran into the wings – people rushing to the stage, roaring, half horrified, half entranced. She was described as a revolution, a tidal wave, and she’d won that acclaim because she’d dared to do what no one else had done before. Despite some parts of her audience whistling with disapproval, Josephine had continued her dancing, moving with the confidence of a panther, throwing her sensuous gestures to her partner as though she were out of control.

  Walking over the grass with Joe, Julia felt her resolve return. Robert had years of experience, it was true, but that wasn’t the only thing that mattered. Julia had passion, and talent. Her act had been something new and exciting; she could feel it without a trace of doubt. It was risky, but that was the whole strength of the show, daring to transgress what people expected, shocking the audience into a new appreciation of the sensual, exposing their complicity, ultimately, enveloping them in an overwhelming experience of sex and spectacle.

  She would still perform the act, Julia found herself certain of it then, as though there had never been any doubt. With or without Robert’s approval, she would realise her dream, and she would show him, finally, how far she would go.

  17

  THE MEADOWS WERE soaked in blackness, lit up with strings of streetlights that lined the path to the circus site. They dimmed next to the blaze of spotlights strung over the tent, the centre pole standing high among the trees, black permants snapping in the wind. Fire-eaters circled the ground outside, weaving around the sideshow tents and streaking flame through the night. The crowds that approached over the grass were buzzing already, reeling from nights in theatres and bars, curious to see the ‘lurid fantasies’ awaiting them.

  The talk around town was that this circus was a tangled mess of filth and depravity, and bookings had been frantic. Julia heard the shrill laughter of women, the fierce whispers of the audience as they approached the tent, half desiring to be shocked, half scared. The atmosphere was tenser than usual, as though a storm was brewing. Backstage, Robert was pacing around in his costume, a deep frown shadowing his brow. The area between the curtains and the showmen’s entrance was crowded with performers itching to take the stage. Julia was dressed in her slave costume, hair coiled into ringlets clogged with white paint, make-up so ghostly pale she seemed like a statue come to life. Sweat beaded over her pancake foundation and she bit her lip furiously, watching Robert from the corner of her eye. They would reveal all of the performers in turn in an opening parade that gave the audience a brief glimpse of the acts to come. Sylvie would be leading Julia onstage. As usual, Robert was looking them over, tweaking costumes every so often, leaning to whisper in the ears of certain performers.

  The moments just before the show started were always agitated and restless, and Julia felt herself hovering on the brink of panic as she let herself get worked up by the stirrings and noises of the crowd outside. Normally she’d whisper to the other performers, sharing in the adrenaline rush. Tonight, though, she was silent, knowing that she was about to attempt something that was so reckless it could be called crazy. Looking nervously around, she caught the eye of Henri, his face frozen in grim determination. He too was aware of the dangers of what Julia had planned, but had agreed to give his assistance when the time came. As had Joe, Sylvie, Sarah, the girls, and a couple of the stagehands. Julia had been careful not to let word spread. Though she needed the help of a few people, she wanted to make sure nothing would endanger her plan. Standing in the wings now with Sylvie, she felt her stomach lurching with nerves, and tried to focus on the show. She would still be performing her usual acts, and needed to calm herself so she could concentrate.

  ‘Good luck, girl,’ Sylvie whispered before they took the stage. Julia merely nodded, too focused now on the show to respond. She felt the usual buzz as she stared at the stage, lit up now so that the audience were a dark mass of anonymous watchers in the shadows. Since she’d joined the circus, Julia had learnt how to turn her nerves into excitement, and the feeling of sickening anxiety that she’d felt the first time she performed was now almost enjoyable – like the moment when she undressed for a lover, she anticipated showing herself to the audience with a shiver of uncertain sexual delight.

  Robert was walking forward now, his shoulders drawn back and his spine straight, ready to face the crowd. Julia could see from the set of his jaw that this was not going to be an easy gig for him. There was a beading of sweat on his brow and his usual laconic smile was absent. Turning to the line of performers he gave them one last instruction before striding onstage to start the show:

  ‘Play your hearts out, ladies and gentlemen.’

  Julia danced that night with her body at its most sensual and responsive – she couldn’t stand to focus on what might happen after the show and so she concentrated on every beat, every rhythm and every movement of her limbs and torso. Even with the shadow of her plan looming over her she found the tension only sharpened her performance – she moved with such ferocious sexuality that she drew admiring whistles and applause from the audience even before her acts had finished. Dancing Pepper’s Ghost with Robert was a fraught episode for her, knowing it may be the last time she could enjoy working with him. By the next morning, she could be out of a job. When the lights fell on the tableau created by her and Robert, the reflection of her body draped over his, Julia felt a keen sadness wash over her, as though the fading spotlight were the last time she would feel any warmth from Robert, or be able to dance for him in one of his private shows. It was an aching loss that seemed to pull her heart as much as her body, but at the same time she knew that she was prepared to sacrifice her nascent relationship with the ringmaster. At any cost, she wanted to perform the dance that meant so much to her.

  By midnight, Julia’s nerves had all but disappeared to be replaced by a strange calm. As the company assembled for the final ‘blow-off’ – the parade to close the end of the show – Julia checked round quickly for her accomplices. Receiving nods from Henri in the lighting booth and Sylvie backstage, she turned to the stage and took one last deep breath.

  Just as Robert was about to step between the crack of the curtains and start the parade, Julia slipped recklessly in front of him, a black floor-length cloak wrapped over her shoulders and covering her costume. Behind her she heard him start to protest, before the noise of the audience and the stage lights took over and she ran to the centre of the platform aware only of the burning desire to perform.

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nbsp; It was a terrifying moment, standing alone on the stage with Robert and the rest of the circus watching from behind, frozen with confusion at Julia’s unexpected appearance. It was unheard of for the show to deviate from its meticulously planned plot, and Julia knew how shocked her fellow performers would be.

  For a full minute she stood in silence, waiting for Henri to start the music for her routine. Julia thought she might pass out or scream, as the audience started to shift in their seats and whisper loudly. Was it obvious something had gone wrong? What was happening in the sound booth? At any moment, Julia expected Robert to send on a couple of the roustabouts to tear her from the platform and carry her offstage. She had never felt so exposed, as though the entire audience and all her colleagues were watching her darkest, most intimate nightmare come to life. She started to wish that the earth would open and swallow her as the moments dragged by.

  Then, at last, the deep beat of the music boomed from the speakers and Julia knew there was no going back. She was bound to perform this act now, even if it meant the end of her circus career. Trembling, she unfastened the catch at her throat and let the cloak fall to the ground, allowing the audience see her in her slight costume of chains and one white feather.

  If Julia had dreamt of emulating Josephine Baker when she imagined her act, she couldn’t have anticipated the strength of the audience’s reaction. At first they watched with appreciative noises, enjoying the sight of Julia gyrating her nearly-bare body before them, believing they were being treated to another sensual display of eroticism.

  But when the black-clad acolytes started combing the audience with spotlights and cameras, there was an uneasy shifting in the seats. Julia heard shrieks of nervous laughter as the audience saw themselves projected on the giant white screen behind the stage, saw people turning their heads in an effort not to be filmed. There was a general rumbling of nervous excitement and she knew the act was disturbing them in a totally unexpected manner. As Sylvie climbed down among the front rows, moving like a shadow through the rows of seats, the atmosphere started to change. Some people seemed eager to get close to the performer, leaning forward in their seats and licking their lips as she passed them. Others were standing to leave, hastily shoving their jackets on and making for the doors. There was the sense that the tent was on the point of anarchy and no one could tell what would happen next.