Freakshow (6 page)

But if I couldn’t get a job, I’d end up on my sister’s couch back in Saskatchewan. Or even worse, begging Becs for a place to crash until I got on my feet. And then what, watch Becs flounce around with my ex boyfriend?

Doesn’t seem like I had the greatest set of options.

Part of me felt like running from my old life, but also from the feelings that were developing for Cai.

But if I ran, I’d only end up running right into his arms.

The only place I wanted to be, but the one place that could potentially hurt me the most.

“Hey daydreamer, what’s up Miss Normal?” his voice called to me from the front of my booth. Speak of the Devil...

“Hey,” I smiled. “You want into the show? That will be thirty eight dollars.”

“How about I take you out for a late dinner? A real dinner, away from Cirque? Will that cover the cost of my admission?”

He constantly surprised me with his attention. I’d heard rumours all week of his player ways, he was more apt to love me and leave me than anything else, and yet I couldn’t help my heart’s reaction.

It flip-flopped and sped up as I casually replied, “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, there’s not a lot open at the end of our night, but I do know a pretty good diner just up on Davie Street. It’s got great food, and we can people watch. All the drunks that time of night make for quite a show.”

I pretended to think about it for half a second. I was concerned I might miss the last Skytrain home, but I supposed I could always use my bed at Cirque for once. “Yeah, sure,” I said, “as long as you’re buying.”

“Always,” he replied and winked and was gone.

I blushed hot red, as usual, and glanced over at the girl in the other booth. Erica something, she’d been hired just before me. She was now staring at me with a mix of jealousy and admiration on her face.

I wasn’t used to such attention. I shrugged my shoulders as if to say “who me?”, and turned back to my phone to scan the job ads.

God, more than ever I wanted to get out of Cirque. I was in dangerous territory and I knew it.

The appeal to stay was growing stronger though, not just for Cairo, but being in a place I was normal for the first time in my life. A place I didn’t stand out, a place I felt like I belonged.

But my heart. I must protect my heart. It was the only control I had in my life, keeping my emotions safe, and I took it seriously god dammit. Leaping into a new life terrified me. What was it about Cairo that made all this fly out the window though? Why did I already feel like I was losing myself to him?

I glanced up to Erica’s booth again and smiled when the other girl gave me a solid thumb’s up.

Normalcy was intoxicating. Fitting in was addictive.

Almost as addictive as the way Cai made my heart flutter and my body feel like I was floating two feet off the ground.

I went back to the job ads and looked for somewhere to send my resume as though I hadn’t already made up my mind to stay with Cirque.

As if I hadn’t already given myself permission to leap.

*****

“Y
ou ready to go Miss Normal?” Cai asked as he stuck his head in the window of my booth.

“
Heck
, yes,” I said and immediately regretted my choice of words. It had sounded cuter in my head.

He didn’t seem to notice and held his arm out for me when I left the back of the booth. I shut the door, locked it and went over my night’s end checklist. Carl had been by to collect the deposits, I’d cashed out, logged off and was free to go. I tried to ignore Erica’s grin when we passed her and said good night. I knew I’d have to divulge every detail to the other girl at some point soon, and it felt a little awesome to have a friend other than Becs to talk to about girl things.

It was just after one in the morning when we were seated at Dollars, a fifties inspired diner in one of the busier sections of Vancouver. The place was packed, the music was blasting, and I was feeling a little electric myself. I was on edge, but in a good way, my nerves were on fire with excitement, not anxiety.

I could barely hear him across the table, so he remedied that by moving to my side of the booth.

His thick, muscled leg pressed up against mine and I jumped. He leaned towards me and said, “Oh shit, did I just hurt your knee?”

It took me a moment to clue in that he meant my injured knee, the one that was supposed to hurt.

“Just a little,” I said and looked pained, “but I’ll live.”

“I’m sorry,” he said and ran his hand up my thigh, “I’ll buy you a drink to make up for it, okay?”

“They sell booze here?” I asked.

“Of course. Besides, shouldn’t you know? Isn’t this your city?”

“I live in Richmond, I don’t get out this way that often.” I told him. In fact I’d never been here this late, the most excitement I’d had was following Jason and his band from one shitty dive bar to another in the far outskirts of the Lower Mainland. His music was best suited for barely surviving pubs in Coquitlam or Maple Ridge where they were paid with piss warm beer and cold chicken wings instead of cash.

I kinda hoped Becs was sitting alone at a wobbly table under a Keno sign trying her best to look enthusiastic as the band wailed out some Green Day cover and forgot half the words.

It was okay right now, because I was here with Cai and I could feel the heat of his body against my thigh. Even after he removed his hand, I could feel his touch burning on my skin. Or what I imagined burning would be. Only if actual burning felt this good, people would be walking around sticking their hands on stove tops and into the flames to get this sensation flowing through their bodies.

We’d all walk through the flame to feel this fucking amazing.

“Well, you’re missing out. We’d better enjoy it while we can, in most cities we end up on the outskirts, away from the action. That’s why we party so much in the Cirque.”

“Sounds like fun,” I said, trying not to think about being with him, and what it would feel like. My heart was pounding at the thought of it, so dangerous. And inappropriate. And exciting. Oh god, the things I wanted him to do to me.

As much as I knew I couldn’t reach a full release, I craved his touch. As much as I knew it would feel good, but not like other people felt, I needed his fingers tracing my body like a blind man finding my form in the dark. As much as I feared him, I wanted to let him in, all the way, farther than anyone had been before.

As much as I feared his love, I wanted it, needed it. I was gripped with a strange compulsion to see how far we could go, how deep our connection went.

Right now, in such a short time, it felt bone deep. And that intrigued me, mostly because of the why and how of it. Why did I feel this way around him and how did he get so far inside?

“What you having?” the waiter interrupted us with a bored look on his face.

“I’ll have a vodka tonic, and she will have,” Cai looked at me, waiting for me to order.

“I’ll have the same,” I said and felt the warmth of his pleased smile before I saw it.

“A girl after my own heart,” he said, “most girls like sweet cocktails or fizzy wine.”

“I’m a vodka girl. I told you, I’m a tomboy,” I said with a grin.

“You’d better start dressing like one,” he said and played with the hem of my skirt again, “or I might not believe you.”

“I am a tomboy on the inside,” I laughed, “and a girl who needs a job on the outside.”

“Are you saying my father hired you for your looks?” It was his turn to smile. I knew he was teasing me, but on some level, I also knew being a pretty girl made it easier to find work. That being said, I hadn’t exactly looked the part during my interview with Orion. I didn’t know exactly why he’d hired me.

“I’ll have you know I was dressed very badly the day I was hired,” I said in mock indignation.

“You couldn’t hide your beauty if you tried, and my father is known for picking the best looking girls he can find for the front of the show.”

I didn’t know if I should be flattered or creeped out, but it didn’t matter as long as it was Cai saying it, and not Orion.

Our drinks arrived and we ordered a couple burgers with homemade onion rings and our conversation flowed as smoothly as the Fraser River through Delta. Not a ripple on the surface, it was deep and easy.

We each ordered another drink with dinner, and another halfway through. I was glowing warmly when he stopped in mid-sentence, looked at my startled face and said, “Hang on, you’ve got something.”

I froze, praying I hadn’t bitten my tongue or lip, there was nothing worse than a mouthful of blood when one was trying their very best to be sexually appealing. He raised his thumb to the corner of my mouth and swiped very slowly, making contact with my lips. I melted, my body felt warm and my insides felt like Jell-O. I wanted to laugh, to kiss him, to take his thumb in my mouth and suck it.

Instead I watched him, my mouth agape and my breath caught in my throat as he moved his thick thumb to his own lips and sucked a smear of ketchup off it.

His lips were so full and luscious, I could almost feel them on my own as he wrapped them around his thumb.

I managed to breathe out when he smiled at me, turned away and ordered two more drinks.

“Fuck me,” I whispered under my breath as he spoke with the waiter and ordered a dessert for the two of us along with our vodka tonics.

“What’d you say?” he asked when he turned back.

“Nothing,” I lied and stared at his lips when he spoke. His dark facial hair encircled them perfectly, he must trim it daily to keep it looking so tidy. I wondered if it tickled when he kissed, and I wondered if he liked to go down.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked me and took an onion ring off my plate. He bit into it and I watched him chew like it was the most sensual thing I’d ever seen.

It could just be the most sensual thing I’d ever seen. I’d kill to be that onion ring right then, being devoured and sucked and teased with his tongue.

“Nothing much,” I said coolly, and grabbed the last couple bites of my burger to distract myself. I chewed thoughtfully and mentally sized myself up beside him and came up lacking in all departments. He was perfection, I was disaster. Somehow the two of us seemed to work though.

“You’re just all fulla nothing tonight,” he replied and licked the greasy film off his fingers.

“I guess it’s just pretty late,” I said and thought, no, just sitting here imagining my body covered in onion ring grease and your lips and tongue sucking me everywhere.

“Come on, it’s not that late. You’re young and beautiful, you should be used to being out all hours of the night,” he said and smiled.

I grinned and felt a blob of mayo slipping down my chin. I froze, unsure what to do, sitting there grinning like an idiot in front of the hottest man I’d ever been around. A real man, thick and muscled, not like Jason who had been a poser. A boy in his dad’s clothes. Cairo was the real deal.

Cairo seemed like he could cut a tree down, build me a cabin and fuck me until I forgot my own name. If I could feel it. God damn, there were few moments my condition really bothered me, like deep to the core, and this was one of them.

I wanted to believe he could make me orgasm, make me lose my mind and hit the level of intensity that other women seemed to find when fucking...but it wasn’t for me.

Still. It would be nice giving it a try.

Cairo smiled, a slow, lazy smile like he knew there was something more going on here. Some deep, steady undercurrent flowing between the two of us.

“You missed a spot,” he said and reached his thumb up to touch my chin again. I forced myself to close my mouth, to not seek his thumb and suckle it like a baby animal. Fuck, what has gotten into me?

“Thanks,” I said breathlessly and noticed he hadn’t removed his thumb, the thick, rough pad of it rested on the divot between my chin and lower lip. I could imagine him circling my clit with the wide end of it, I imagined that I might be able to feel it, feel the roughness and insistent force behind his strokes.

I’d been let down before though, in the past my imagination always ended up being far greater than the naked fumblings that I’d experienced.

He pulled his thumb back and said, “Anytime,” and reached for another onion ring. I was dumb with lust, simply speechless in my erotic imaginings over something as insignificant as him rubbing a slip of food off my face.

It didn’t feel insignificant though, it felt real, it felt good, and it felt terrifying. If I was this on edge at simply imagining him touching me, and he did manage to break through the invisible barrier that disconnected me from my pleasure receptors, what would that mean to my heart?

I concentrated on my food and forced myself to make some more small talk. Where he was from, where he grew up, what he wanted to be when he grew up, how long he’d been growing the beard, etc etc. We compared tattoos and I had to admit being impressed with his. We compared scars and I outnumbered him ten to one.

We talked about past relationships and I remained fairly tight lipped, not wanting to disclose my recent betrayal. It still bothered me too much, and it still made me feel like I had been at fault. I didn’t want his sympathy or his judgement.

Finally he sighed, looked at me, stretched and put his arm over my shoulder. “You’re a very difficult woman to read, Miss Normal,” he said and gave me what could only be classified as a friendly squeeze.

I knew I was being difficult, but it wasn’t deliberate. I was naturally guarded, and the way he made me feel left me breathless and confused. Part of me wanted to throw myself into his arms, and the other part wanted to run.

Right now, running was the top contender and I fumbled for my purse when the cheque was deposited on the table.

“I don’t mean to be,” I told him and reached for the bill. He snatched it up before I could reach it and removed his arm from my shoulder at the same time.

The weight of his arm on my body had been comforting, I felt oddly exposed now that it was gone. But I still wanted to flee these unusual mixed up emotions.

“Don’t even think about it, I told you I’d cover this. You might be a mystery, but I’m straight up, and I’ll never let a beautiful woman pay for my meal,” he said.