CirqueErotique Read online

  Cirque Erotique

  Maxie Cooper

  Stranded in the middle of nowhere, Loralei walks down a parched, dusty stretch of road to find a foreboding house, a looming structure shimmering like a mirage in the heated dusk. Inside, the very walls seem to breathe and whisper, coaxing her down a maze of endless hallways, erotic temptations seemingly around every turn.

  The house is as strange and alluring as its inhabitants…libidinous Siamese twins, a hauntingly beautiful hermaphrodite, the dark and mysterious ringmaster…

  Come one, come all! No one can resist the lustful delights of Cirque Erotique.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Cirque Erotique

  ISBN 9781419937484

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Cirque Erotique Copyright © 2011 Maxie Cooper

  Edited by Kelli Collins

  Cover design by Syneca

  Photography: Les Byerley

  Electronic book Publication December 2011

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.

  The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  Cirque Erotic

  Maxie Cooper

  Chapter One

  What I remember most about that night in late August was the heat. It slid over my skin like a silky serpent’s tongue, leaving a trail of moisture along every inch of my body. My hair clung to my neck in wet coils and a bead of sweat trickled lazily down the valley of my breasts. My skin smelled warm and moist and musky-sweet. So hot. So damn hot.

  My car broke down on Old State Road in the middle of nowhere. I should have stayed on the highway, with its bright lights and rest areas, but no, I thought I could save time by taking a shortcut through the woods. I thought it would be cooler under the shade of old oaks instead of driving over baked asphalt. I had no one to blame but myself.

  When turning my key repeatedly in the ignition failed to get the engine running again, I ran out of options. I could open the hood and look inside, but I wouldn’t know what I was looking at. I pulled out my phone, running through a mental list of who I could call to rescue me from my own stupidity. Not surprisingly, the list was short.

  My ex was good with his hands when it came to cars…and other women, it turned out. I’d left him behind along with a life that pinched like too-tight shoes, setting out for parts unknown and great adventures. So far the only great adventures I’d experienced were minimum-wage jobs and a car that left me stranded at the most inconvenient times.

  I wiped the sweat from my brow. I could call my brother, but we hadn’t spoken in ages. In a family that had given up on me long ago, he’d been the last hold-out, convinced he could turn me into a white sheep like the rest of them. He’d finally abandoned his efforts, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Why do you always have to act like such a fucking freak, Loralei? Why can’t you just be normal?”

  Normal? Not if “normal” meant being a faceless cog in the eternally grinding machine that sucked the individuality out of people one hopeless day at a time. No, that white-bread life wasn’t for me. We’d fought for hours, and finally realized neither of us would ever understand the other’s point of view. My brother had walked away and I suspected this time it was for good. I’d marked the moment with a new tattoo—a severed chain cut neatly in two over a still-beating heart.

  That left no one. I’d have to call a tow truck, which would blow my already strained budget. I started pushing buttons for information when the phone went dead in my hand.

  Oh fuck no! I shook the phone, as if that would do any good. I turned it off and waited a few minutes, hoping it would recharge enough to get a single call out. I closed my eyes and prayed, then turned the phone on again. Nothing. Not even a flicker of life. Damn.

  I stepped out of the car and leaned into the deep humidity, cursing under my breath. Nothing to my left but a long road to nowhere. To my right, the road took a turn and disappeared around a curve. I looked to the left again, hoping to see the oncoming lights of a car in the distance, but all I could see were miles and miles of road leading into the setting sun. Soon it would be dark, and then what? Maybe I should just walk down the road a bit and see what was around the bend. If there was nothing there, I’d come back to the car and wait. Eventually someone was sure to drive by. What other options did I have?

  I set off down the road, hoping the oncoming dusk would cool the air. It was a false hope. If anything, the musty air seemed to fall heavier on my shoulders with every passing second. My steps became sluggish as I made my way toward the bend in the road. I hoped I’d find safety around that bend. Perhaps a well-lit cottage with a kindly old couple who would offer me a cold glass of iced tea while they called for a mechanic.

  I could almost taste the sweetness on my tongue as I walked around the bend and saw lights in the distance. Maybe my luck had finally taken a turn for the better.

  With a renewed sense of optimism, I made my way down the dusty road toward the lights. Even the heat was no longer unbearable with the promise of help only a few feet away.

  As I drew closer, however, my optimism turned to a frisson of foreboding.

  Before me stood a looming structure of darkness and shadows, shimmering like a mirage. The edges blurred and wavered, making it hard to pinpoint the actual size of the house. I could swear it stretched and receded before my eyes. Murky light spilled from windows that seemed to hide secrets. Inexplicably, the front yard was a wasteland of dead and dying foliage, as if I’d turned a corner and stepped into late fall rather than the deep heat of summer. Bare-limbed trees cast long, stealthy silhouettes and mean shadows.

  Just a trick of the light, I told myself, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched by someone…or something.

  A dog howled in the distance, mournful and low. I leaned against a tree and fanned my face. If it wasn’t so hot I could think straight, but my brain was sluggish and my throat as dry and dusty as the road I’d just walked on. Surely nothing inside that house could be as bad as dying of dehydration or heat stroke beside this lonely road.

  Movement off to the left caught my attention. Across the yard I glimpsed a girl with golden hair and pale, pale skin dancing in the distance. Her breasts were bare and full in the fading light. A fall of gauzy material draped from her waist, somehow making her seem more naked than if she’d been totally nude.

  She turned and caught my eye. The girl smil
ed and pressed a fingertip to her lips. Hush, she seemed to be saying. This is our little secret.

  Then she turned and disappeared.

  I looked around but there was no sign of her. Oo-kay. Creepy. I tried to remember if hallucinating was one of the first signs of heat stroke.

  Taking a deep breath, I strode toward the house before I could change my mind. Sanctuary or damnation—I wouldn’t know until I tried. Dead leaves rustled beneath my feet, scurrying away like small, startled animals. Even the shrubs were withered and brown, as if they’d given up and succumbed to the blazing sun. I thought I heard a soft giggle behind me but when I turned, there was no one there. The wind, I told myself. Only the wind.

  A pebbled path led to the front door. Dark oak. Weeping wood. I lifted my hand and held it in midair for a long moment, then steeled my courage and knocked.

  When no one answered, I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. I lifted the hair from the back of my neck, hoping for even the smallest breeze to cool my fevered skin. I closed my eyes, dreaming of a refreshing shower. Often we take the simplest things for granted—a long shower, a cold drink, our own soft and familiar bed. A moan of pleasure escaped my lips…

  Just as the door opened.

  A man stood in the doorway, raven-haired, lean and long-boned. His face was all hard angles and his kohl-rimmed eyes as shuttered as the approaching night.

  I dropped my arm and my hair fell back against my neck. “My car,” I stammered, strangely uneasy under his intense gaze. “I, um…my car broke down and I’m stranded. Could I use your phone?”

  He tipped his head, searching my face for something.

  The stare was nothing new. People were often transfixed by the ink covering my body—covering my arms, over my chest, even a spattering of delicate stars along the curves of my cheekbones. Some people thought I was a circus freak, others assumed I was a hard-ass. The truth was neither. I simply loved using my body as a canvas for beautiful art—but this man wasn’t staring at my tats.

  I waited a heartbeat. Two.

  Finally he nodded. “Come inside.”

  He turned and walked into the house, not waiting to see if I followed. After a moment I made up my mind and stepped over the threshold.

  It was no cooler inside. No air circulated in the cavernous foyer. I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead once more. Surely my host would offer me something to drink, a simple reprieve from the ever-present heat?

  He paused and pointed toward a room on my left. “Wait there,” he said. His voice was whiskey-smooth yet firm, with a commanding edge that made me want to obey his every wish. I found myself strangely attracted to him. Attracted and fascinated.

  He started to turn away and I found my voice. It was meeker than I would have liked. “Could I have a glass of water? Please?”

  Our eyes met. A glimmer of gold flickered in the dark, dark depths of his gaze. I stopped breathing for a moment, mesmerized. Time seemed to stretch and the edges of my vision blurred. I felt as if I were being sucked into a long, black tunnel…

  I blinked, breaking the trance-like spell. “My name is Loralei,” I said. “Loralei Bennett.”

  His face softened and a smile moved like a ghost across his lips. “Tony,” he replied, then turned and walked away. I watched him go, every nerve and fiber in my body tingling in response to his decidedly strange, animal magnetism.

  Left alone, I used the opportunity to look around the room. It was furnished in an eclectic mix of styles, from antique Tiffany lamps to rattan rockers. Flocked and faded wallpaper adorned the walls, and silken scarves draped over the lamps gave the room a sultry, bordello-ish feel. I ran my fingertip over a ceramic doll in clown makeup and grimaced when it came away with a greasy coating of dust. Light shimmered off an assortment of colored bottles, each stained with an oily residue. I wondered what magic potions they might have once held, instinctively aware that this room was a place of mystery and dark desires.

  I inhaled deeply and shivered with erotic anticipation. The air itself was redolent with fire and lust.

  A peculiar picture hung on the wall. It was a sepia photo in an ornate gold frame, featuring a group of circus performers posing for the camera. There were freaks and geeks, fat ladies and Siamese twins, trapeze artists in saggy leotards and grim-faced handlers. I reached out and ran my fingers over the spotless glass, wondering who they were, where they were now.

  A large poster took up most of one corner, slightly yellowed with age. Across the top in fading black were the words “Cirque Erotique”.

  I’d always been attracted to the weird, the strange, the freakishly bizarre. But those words resonated in the deepest part of my soul. Cirque Erotique.

  Closing my eyes, I could easily imagine the poster as it had once been, proud and new. Crisp black letters standing out against a bold yellow and red background, calling to me and others like me. People who were different. People others considered strange.

  As if transported, I suddenly felt the sun on my face, smelled sawdust and dry earth, heard the clang of a calliope and a wave of nearby laughter. It was more than a vision, almost a memory of what once was…or what could be. I felt a part of something big. A community. No, more than that.

  A family.

  A soft, distant whimper caught my attention, pulling me out of my trance. I tipped my head, listening.

  The whimper turned to a sob…the sob to a moan.

  A shiver raced up my spine. Someone was hurt and needed help. I thought of the woman I’d seen outside. Maybe she hadn’t been a hallucination after all. Maybe she was in danger.

  Following the sound, I cautiously made my way through a labyrinth of rooms. The house was bigger than it seemed on the outside. Either that or I was going in circles, the sobbing always just beyond my reach.

  And then the crying stopped, just as quickly as it had started.

  Pausing, I held my breath and listened. I reached up and wiped a rivulet of sweat from the side of my face. Forcing my feet to move, I turned a corner in the darkened hallway and caught a furtive movement in the first room on the right. I crept closer, drawn to the small crack in the partially open doorway, careful to remain hidden in the shadows.

  Something told me to be quiet, not to draw attention to myself. I took a slow, deep breath and leaned closer.

  Inside, too caught up in each other to notice me at all, were what appeared to be two men sitting side by side on the bed, their bare backs toward me. They faced a mirror on the wall, staring at their own reflections. Something was wrong with the reflection. Something was missing…

  That’s when I noticed they were joined from shoulder to waist, two bodies connected at the torso, with one arm each. From the waist down they were separate again, four legs—and two erect penises.

  Each had his hand wrapped around his own cock, stroking as two sets of eyes watched in the mirror. Slow, even strokes, from bases to swollen tips. Their movements were perfectly in sync, twin moans and sighs harmonized as they briefly pressed their erections together, glistening tips sliding and slipping against each other.

  I couldn’t look away. I tried. I even attempted a step back, but invisible arms held me in place. The second I’d stepped inside this house I felt as if I’d fallen under a strange spell. It was like a drug. I wanted more.

  Walking away would be the right thing to do, but when had I ever chosen the right thing?

  I felt a gentle nudge from behind me, reinforcing my need to see more. Looking back, I saw I was still alone in a hallway that seemed to stretch farther than it had before. Giving in to my desire, I turned to watch the performance inside the room.

  Hot. So damn hot.

  I watched the conjoined twins masturbate for what felt like hours, their strokes lengthening, speeding up as they came close, close, closer…then slowing as if by unspoken agreement, their breathing easing up before climbing again. Fists flying, cocks pressing together, fingers squeezing as their hips jerked in unison.

&nbs
p; My own breath came in short, quick gasps. I felt moist all over, slippery wet between my thighs, warm and sweaty between my breasts. I’d never felt so erotically charged, so intent on orgasm that it seemed nothing or no one could stand in my way. My thighs clenched tightly and a tremor ran through my body.

  I was so focused on the mutual masturbation scene that I didn’t hear anyone behind me until a hand covered my mouth.

  My head was forced back against a solid chest. A familiar, whiskey-smooth voice whispered softly in my ear.

  “Shhhh. We wouldn’t want to disturb them, would we?”

  I shook my head.

  “Good,” Tony said, slowly removing his hand from my mouth. My lips tingled where his fingers had been. His breath was warm in my ear, teasingly erotic. “Then they’d know you were watching, wouldn’t they?”

  I nodded silently, afraid to break the spell. In the mirror, I saw the twins had worked themselves into a frenzy, hands crossed over onto each other’s penis, stroking harder now, their eyes locked on their reflections. Their breaths came in harsh gasps as they brought each other to the edge of orgasm and back again, teasing and taunting.

  I wanted to feel what they were feeling. I wanted release from the orgasm building high and tight inside me. Any inhibitions I had were being stripped away one layer at a time like the skin of an onion, leaving only the moist, sweet center exposed.

  Tony reached around my waist, pulling me tightly against him. I felt his erection press thick and hard against my back and realized he was just as turned-on by the bedroom performance. “You like watching, don’t you?” he whispered.

  I nodded and pressed back against the heat of his groin, grinding my bottom against his bulge. I felt brazen and alive, as if this house and its occupants had finally given me permission to let go of convention once and for all—to let go and give in to my natural desires without the slightest twinge of guilt.