Cirque du Minuit

by

Annabel Joseph

Copyright 2012 Annabel Joseph/Scarlet Rose Press

Smashwords Edition

Cover art by Adrienne Wilder

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Smashwords License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

* * * * *

For Audrey

When she cries, I know I have something good.

And for Baby Firefly, for understanding.

* * * * *

Chapter One: The Gypsy King

Kelsey was lost again. She couldn't believe it.

Four months at Cirque du Monde's Paris headquarters, and the mazelike corridors of its training facility still flabbergasted her sense of direction. The hallways met at strange angles and the numbers followed no system she could discern. Some walls were glass, while others were painted concrete. A small meeting room might be nestled next to a cavernous rehearsal space, a dressing room next to a director's office. She was looking for a trainer's office at the moment.

She was pretty sure she was in the "J" corridor, but she needed to be in the "I" corridor. She opened the next door she encountered, hoping to cut across, and found herself in a dimly lit, cluttered storage room. The ceiling soared above her, dotted by skylights. She had just enough light to navigate through the densely stacked boxes, but she still managed to trip over a low-lying obstacle. Her gymnast's reflexes were the only thing that saved her from a total pratfall. She rolled and came to a stop with her back against the side of a crate, rubbing her aching shin. Graceful, Kelsey. Thank God no one saw that.

Then she heard voices, a man's deeper voice and a woman's soft one. The man sounded angry. Kelsey stood and peered around the crate in front of her in the semi-darkness. The couple was perhaps twenty yards away. Minya, a gorgeous Chinese trapeze artist, and him.

Theo Zamora, her soaring fantasy. Her gypsy king.

Kelsey had noticed Theo Zamora the first day of her auditions. He'd strolled through the studio around ten in the morning--she even remembered the time. Just the way he walked, the casual flick of his wrist as he passed them, arrested her. She'd been unable to look away until he'd left through the other door. She'd seen him a couple other times that week, and each time his presence had affected her in the same visceral way. When she was hired a week later, her first thought was Now I work in the same company as him.

Kelsey was always watching for him, stealing peeks into practice gyms and company meetings in hopes of a glimpse of his tall strong body, his dark eyes. She stared at him each night backstage as they performed in the Cirque Tsilaosa show. Not once--not one time--had they exchanged words.

Exchanged words? Ha. Theo Zamora didn't even know she existed. He was unapproachable to her, a sleek and powerful idol to be admired from afar. Even now, her heart raced to be in such close proximity to him.

Kelsey pressed her hand to her mouth and stood perfectly still as she watched the couple in profile. He was scolding his trapeze partner. Kelsey couldn't hear his words, but she picked up the inflection of French, his native language. He towered over Minya, his face a menacing mask.

Dark-haired Minya shrank away, fell to her knees. Theo pulled her up again, not roughly but not gently either, and pushed her face down over the edge of a box. Kelsey waited for Minya to pull away, but the quivering woman stayed still, her legs pressed together and her face buried in her arms.

Kelsey knew she shouldn't witness this private moment, but she couldn't look away. She watched with horrified fascination as Theo rummaged through his gym bag and then straightened. Some kind of belt or strap dangled from his hand. Oh my God. Kelsey felt traumatized and yet aroused by the menacing way he stood, his stern expression. She sucked in a silent breath as he braced his hand on the small of Minya's back. The sound of the strap's impact made her jump.

Kelsey dug her nails into her palm, shocked that Minya didn't try to get away. But she didn't. She actually seemed to be enjoying it, squirming and pressing her hips against the edge of the box. Kelsey could hear her low, erotic moans each time he brought the strap down again. The only sign of distress was a small kick of her feet--and those muffled moans.

Theo was clearly enjoying himself too, from the aggressive pleasure written on his face. She'd read about people doing this kind of stuff, but to see it going on right in front of her eyes...to hear the cracking sounds of impact and Minya's intimate noises...

Kelsey's knees gave way. She huddled behind the crate, hugging herself. Blood rushed in her ears. She was freaked out, and yet… She closed her eyes and slid her hand between her legs, trying to soothe the shocking, unexpected bloom of lust. Her stomach was in knots as the strapping continued, but her clit signaled something else altogether. You like this. This passionate violence.

You want it yourself.

At last the sound of the blows stopped. Kelsey scrambled to her feet and peered over the top of the crate. Theo squeezed and patted Minya's ass cheeks through her leotard while she remained submissively draped over the box. A snap of his fingers, and she was down on the floor again. Kelsey's pussy seemed to pulse in time with the petite woman's movements. How would it feel to lay at his feet, conquered by him, her ass burning and sore from his strap?

She held her breath as Theo thrust his hand down his gym pants and...oh my God. He exposed his engorged, jutting cock, beckoning his partner. Minya didn't resist, even when he grabbed the back of her hair and... Wow. How could Minya take him so deep in her throat and still breathe?

Minya reached out to brace herself against his legs. He took her hands in his and pulled her closer. Minya gagged slightly, but she didn't fight, didn't resist, and he didn't back away from her. It was so carnal, so animalistic that Kelsey forgot herself and gasped aloud. His gaze flew to hers at once, over boxes and crates of equipment. Their eyes locked, and then his lips twisted into a lurid smile.

"Hey you, girl, hiding there. Either join us or get out."

It was the first words he'd ever spoken to her. Kelsey ducked her head and ran for her life.

* * * * *

After that, Kelsey saw him constantly, no matter how much she went out of her way to avoid him. They were all working on Tsilaosa together, so it really couldn't be helped. Kelsey was training in order to replace one of the acrobats who was taking a break to start a family. Theo and Minya were a well-established act, one of the anchor acts for the production.

With a cast of only fifty-odd people, Kelsey was pretty visible as a trainee. Add in her distinctive white-blonde hair, and there was no chance he hadn't recognized her. When he met her eyes the next day in the weekly production meeting, he made it abundantly clear he remembered her and what she'd seen.

Minya, on the other hand, ignored her. The doe-eyed trapezist seemed lost in her own world. Kelsey had always interpreted her standoffishness and dreamy quality as artistic affectation, but now she couldn't stop picturing her cowering at Theo's feet. She wondered what Minya had done to deserve that punishment--if it was even really punishment--and how often the two played out scenes like the one she'd spied on.

Damn. She had to stop thinking about them. It was after seven, and the troupe was assembling in the backstage area to prepare for the evening's show. Kelsey stretched on a mat by the back wall while performers warmed up on tightropes, treadmills, and training bars in the center. She kept her back to the structure where Theo normally warmed up with a series of chin-ups. Kelsey had learned to resist the urge to sneak looks because, damn it, he always caught her. He'd pin her with those coal black eyes, and she would flush with embarrassment. But there was never reproach in his gaze, only an all-too-knowing assessment. That was the worst part of all.

Kelsey had a sick feeling he knew she hadn't been scandalized by what she'd seen. God, if he had any idea how many times she'd masturbated over it, hiding under her blankets in the company dorms... Even now, in the middle of the busy backstage, the scene replayed itself in her mind for the hundredth time. Minya's graceful submission and Theo's muscular arm rising and falling--

"Hey, Kels. How's it going?"

Kelsey swung around, hoping her train of thought wasn't written all over her face. "Oh. Hi."

Jason Beck was one of her coaches, a fellow Californian who made the unfamiliar French headquarters feel a little more like home. Like all the Cirque's employees, he was supremely fit and staunchly professional. He put a hand on her back. "Want me to help you stretch?"

She didn't take it as a come-on even though, before Theo, Jason would have been her type--tall and muscular, with longish chestnut hair he tamed into a ponytail at the back of his neck. Kelsey knew the countless times Jason touched and manipulated her each day had nothing to do with sex or flirtation. It was just part of his job.

Jason had a reputation for being zealous about his new recruits, about getting them acclimated and involved in one of Cirque du Monde's fifteen currently operating shows. So Kelsey tolerated his poking, pushing, prodding, and general questioning as the practice space around them ratcheted up in motion and noise.

Unfortunately, since she'd turned to talk to Jason, she saw Theo saunter past jugglers and a troupe of musclemen to lean against the pull-up bars. He scanned the room with haughty disinterest. Kelsey looked away before he caught her staring, but Jason noticed and turned to find the object of her scrutiny.

He turned back to her a moment later with pursed lips, pushing her ankle back nearly to her shoulder. "I wouldn't recommend getting tangled up with the likes of him."

"'The likes of him?' You sound like my grandma."

"Grandma knows best," he said, releasing her. "Listen, all the new girls--and guys--get fascinated with him in the beginning. But he's not relationship material."

"Minya likes him." Kelsey watched Theo's partner do some half-assed warm-ups on the practice trapeze. Theo glanced at Minya, then away. Kelsey studied them from behind Jason's back, trying to decode their body language. "So, are they a couple or what?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "I'll go with or what. You're probably better off not knowing."

"What does that mean?"

"I mean, they're weird. He's weird, she's weird. They belong together. You, on the other hand, are very normal and well-adjusted, and I'd hate to see that change."

"Well-adjusted? Really?" Kelsey frowned. "That means I'm boring." Since coming to train at the Cirque, Kelsey had the sinking feeling she was hopelessly dull compared to everyone around her. Being focused and responsible had worked great for her in the world of competitive gymnastics, but now...

"Kelsey, you are a breath of fresh air," Jason assured her. "Too many over-the-top personalities around here. It gets old." He finished with her other leg and shook his head. "What is this place, when two Californians are the most normal people to be found?" He started on her core, helping her twist and warm up her arms and shoulders. "While we're on the subject, I would also avoid the parties he and his cronies attend."

Kelsey frowned. "Drugs?"

"God, no. You know they test here. Therefore...they get their thrills in other ways, and Theo happens to be one of the ringleaders. He's not a nice guy."

"He doesn't seem that nice."

"But he's good at trapeze. One of the best in the business."

"So I should admire him professionally, but avoid him socially."

"Like the plague."

Kelsey laughed. "Okay, I'm sensing you feel strongly about this."

"I just think you should be concentrating on your training right now. This is a transitional time for you in the company. They have high hopes for your future, but you have to give them what they want."

"Do you think I haven't been concentrating on my training? I'm working damn hard. Ow!"

Jason ruthlessly worked at a knot in one of her back muscles. "I didn't say anything about you not concentrating. Let's keep it that way. New people sometimes get too caught up in the partying and backstage shenanigans. I call it the circus underbelly. I've seen more than one promising recruit go down."

"Really?"

"Yeah, way down."

Kelsey looked around at the assembled company as the stage manager called out "Ten minutes to animation!" None of the performers looked especially dissolute or seamy. Well, most of them didn't, she thought, with a sidelong glance at the object of her obsession.

"Don't worry," she said, shrugging away from her coach's prodding fingers. "I'm not taking chances with anything right now."

"Genevieve says you can take Marisol's place in just a few weeks, if you feel ready. How are things going with you and the other acrobats?"

Kelsey turned to take in the group of Argentinean tumblers she'd been rehearsing with. She was getting the routines okay. They were certainly within her physical skill set. The greater challenge was growing more natural as a performer, and tapping into the communal synergy. The Argentineans were a smooth, well-oiled machine, while she was still a misfiring spark plug. She didn't even speak their language. She looked back at Jason and shrugged. "I just need practice. I don't feel ready yet, but I'll get it."

"Yes, you will." He manipulated her feet now, paying careful attention to her joints. "You can do all the things Marisol does. Easily. It's just about getting into the rhythm of the group."

"And learning Spanish."

"Sí, querida. It will come. If you want to stay with Cirque du Monde, it wouldn't hurt to learn French and Russian too. Mandarin, if you're really ambitious." He winked and patted her thigh, then moved off to help some of his other charges.

Kelsey lay back with a sigh and stared up at the beams in the ceiling, and the air conditioning ducts painted in red, orange, blue, and fuchsia. Kelsey had on a similarly multicolored leotard, along with her puffy blue plastic wig. Her light blonde hair was tucked securely underneath. Her makeup was just as involved as the main performers', even though for now she was only an extra, cavorting during act changes and helping move equipment.

Kelsey was anxious to get involved in one of the actual acts, but in the circus, you paid your dues and worked your way up. In the world of gymnastics she'd been a luminary, making it as far as a U.S. Olympic team alternate. Now she was an alternate again, training to step in for someone else. But she was here. The Cirque du Monde. Isn't that what she'd wanted? She was tired of being the good girl, the disciplined Olympian. She was as creative and passionate as anyone else, and she was eager to let that side of herself out into the light. That's what she'd said during her interview with Genevieve, the director of the show.

Now she just had to get it done.

Kelsey sat up and looked around, noting that only Theo and Minya weren't outfitted in rainbow hues. He was stark black from head to toe. No wig needed...his natural hair was black as midnight. Minya was light to Theo's dark, in a shimmering white and yellow bodysuit studded with crystals and topped off by a wig of fiery orange hair. For performances, she streaked the wig with red and gold highlights, to stunning effect.

Theo took his partner's hand, and Minya looked up at him sideways. Kelsey couldn't see her expression. Was she smiling? Seductive? Or questioning? Theo looked at her so intently. What must that feel like, to be the object of his undivided attention?

"Three minutes to animation!" The stage manager's voice boomed in the backstage area. Kelsey shook off her horny daydreams and leaned to fish a red sugar straw out of her bag, tearing off the edge and upending it. A small, tart cascade of candy landed on her tongue. Across the room, Jason shook a finger at her, but she didn't care. It was her pre-show ritual. The tart sugar was the taste of her dreams coming true.

Kelsey pranced through her roles in the production, enjoying every moment of it. Bystander #3. Villager. Spotter. Minor roles, but each necessary. A small opportunity to shine. After she finished helping the juggler pull her stuff off the stage, Kelsey settled down in the shadows of the wings to watch Theo and Minya's act at the top of the vast auditorium. The couple clasped the trapeze together and a cable pulled them up, so far up, at least eighty feet in the air to the bird's nest. They checked lines and the balance of the bar, and the act began.

Kelsey had watched them fly so many times, she knew every release, every trick. Minya catapulted from Theo's arms into a breathtaking somersault, and then back to his grasp. They flew side by side sometimes in a sinuous dance of strength, and at other times, Minya hung from his hands, his knees, his shoulders. It amazed Kelsey, their strength and dexterity while swinging from a bar so many feet off the ground. There was no net, no spotters. For the final, most difficult trick, Minya wore a single safety line.

Kelsey could never have done it. You can never have him, trapezist or no. He's not for you. No, they belonged together, Theo and Minya, the gypsy king and his orange-gold shadow, flung and then caught up again in space. The beauty of their dance brought tears to Kelsey's eyes. Theo swung high, higher. It was time for the big finish. Minya flew upwards, her arms spread wide--

Kelsey knew right away something was wrong.

The angle was too great, the height was off. The audience didn't know. They gasped in awe at the way Minya soared. Kelsey watched Theo, her blood pounding in her ears. He swung back, a twist of his body, and tried to catch her on the way down. His legs strained and he arched, reaching for her. Even from eighty feet below, even petrified with horror, Kelsey noted the mortal concentration on his face. He caught his partner for a moment, grasped her by the hand. His grip arrested her arc and she jerked. She no longer looked graceful.

Now, with that jerk and break in formation, the audience knew something was wrong, and the gasps turned to silence and panicked sharp screams. Kelsey's own scream caught in her throat as the trapeze still swung and Theo lost his grip. Minya flew down, down, her yellow-red-orange-gold hair streaming behind as she fell head first toward the earth. It might almost be part of the act, it looked so graceful and dramatic. Kelsey waited for the safety to jerk Minya back, to halt her swan dive toward disaster. She saw the spotter pull the rope, faster and faster.

The safety never caught.

* * * * *

Kelsey didn't cry like the other performers huddled around her. She felt too numb, too shocked to cry. The Cirque gathered its members backstage and they clung to one another, trying to process the tragedy they'd witnessed. Minya was gone, taken away in a silent ambulance with no lights. Theo was gone too, nowhere to be seen.

Kelsey closed her eyes and buried her head in her hands. She couldn't get the vision out of her head. Minya flying, so beautiful. Minya falling. Minya twisting and crumpling as she hit the ground. Kelsey had looked up and seen Theo still hanging there, arms extended helplessly. He'd had her, and lost her.

People sobbed and shifted, hugging one another. Jason came over and embraced her.

"You okay?"

She gazed over into the searching blue eyes of her coach. "Did you...did you see it happen?"

"I saw it on the monitor backstage. Did you see it?"

Kelsey nodded briefly, not trusting her voice.

Jason took her hand. "Just...please understand, this never happens. We've never had a fatality before."

Kelsey nodded again, then shook her head, confused. How could it happen? "Didn't she..." Kelsey rubbed her forehead. How could he drop her? "I don't understand. What happened to the safety line? It failed?"

"They think so. The spotter was there and he was pulling like hell, but..."

In the corner, the shaken safety operator was surrounded by fellow riggers. They were obviously trying to comfort him, but he didn't look soothed as he dragged violently on a cigarette. At the front of the group, a Human Resource exec from headquarters wrung her hands and spouted empty reassurances.

Kelsey tuned her out. There was nothing the woman could say that could erase the ghastly tableau of Minya's fall. The stricken faces of the other performers were mirrors for her own shock and disbelief.

Circuses were like families. Dysfunctional families a lot of times, but even in her short time there, she'd come to understand that circus people stuck together through thick and thin. To lose one was to lose everyone. Each performer grieved not just for Minya, but for the loss of their own sense of invulnerability.

"You just think of it as being safe. You know?" Kelsey looked at Jason, wishing for answers. "They work so hard to make all this safe. All the safety harnesses and practices and repetition to make things happen right. I mean, what went wrong?" Her voice finally quavered, and she broke completely, broke down into the same sea of tears that surrounded her.

Jason hugged her close. "You're scared right now. It's normal, it's okay. It's a scary thing to witness."

"Jesus, I mean..." Kelsey hiccoughed against his ear. "It's just so sad. I can't believe she's gone. Just like that." She drew away and lowered her voice to a whisper. "What about him? Where is he?"

"I don't know. He's being taken care of, I'm sure."

"But will he be okay?"

Jason's face seemed to harden a little. "That's for him to deal with. Circus people can be surprisingly resilient. There will be a show tomorrow, if you can believe it. He won't be in it, but there will be a show."

Kelsey hugged herself as Jason turned his attention to the woman from Human Resources. Kelsey didn't believe it, not for a second. There could be no show without her gypsy king sailing overhead. There could be no more fantasies, no more desire or excitement. No more vision of Theo and Minya in the storage room. That vision was replaced forever by the sight of a shooting star arcing outward and falling...falling. Kelsey dropped her forehead onto her knees and wept.

Chapter Two: Descent

The first knock was timid, a small rap, rap dragging his mind from the haze of sleep. Theo looked around, readjusting to wakefulness, seeking the source of the sound. It was dusk and he had to squint in the dim light. The next knock was louder and propelled him off the couch and to his feet. He swayed and reached for the side table to brace himself, knocking over a bottle of whiskey with a clank.

He winced and hunched toward the door. Theo didn't want to see anyone, didn't want anyone to see him. Again, knock knock knock, this time very loudly. He leaned to look through the peephole, making a concerted effort to recognize the long, light hair and blur of red lips.

"Theo?"

He stepped back. It was a woman, but he couldn't make her out from the tiny little spyglass set into the door. Melinde from Cirque headquarters again, or Diane. They had called and left message after message. Surely they didn't expect him to show up for work the day after--or had it been two days?

He looked at the clock. It was late. The evening's show would be over. Three days?

No, it was only the second day. What did they want from him? He leaned again to look through the peephole. She was still there, and she wasn't Diane or Melinde. The woman reached out to touch the door, then turned to rummage in the bag on her hip.

Theo stumbled back to the couch, taking a deep drink of whiskey right from the bottle to still the pounding in his head. It was so quiet. His little house was too warm, the air oppressive. He was sweating. Go away. Just go away.

He stared at the ceiling, willing the interloper to give up on whatever errand had brought her here. A moment later, a folded piece of paper slid under the door. He stared at it a long time before he moved.

He picked it up and turned on a light, but didn't open it. It was interaction, contact with another human being, which he wanted but didn't want at the same time. He set the folded paper on the side table and smoked three cigarettes in a row. He lit a fourth for courage and picked up the note, held the red, burning ashes to the edge of it. The paper curled and cringed in on itself. Light hair, red lips...

He put down the cigarette and tamped out the glimmering edge. He unfolded the smoldering note and stared through the haze of smoke at the messy but emphatic lettering.

Theo--

I'm so sorry about what happened. I hope you're okay. Everyone is worried about you.

Yesterday they skipped your act, and it was hard for everyone. They want to fill in for now with acrobatics or something. I don't know why I'm telling you that. I just don't know what to say. You don't even really know me, but I'm so sorry and I can't imagine how you feel. I wish there was something I could do.

If you need someone to talk to or you need anything, call me.

Below that, she'd signed her name, Kelsey, and scrawled a phone number. The digits swam before his eyes, as unfathomable as code. He lifted the cigarette and burned them off, every number, and then the rest of her message as well.

Two days later she was back again, knocking and calling his name through the door. He was less drunk, but still hot, too hot. He shook his head at her persistence and reeled into the bathroom. He turned the shower on cold and stood under the stream, shocked back to life, emerging from layers of misery back to reality.

Damn her. Blood rushed in his ears and he had to brace himself against the side of the shower to keep to his feet. He looked at the ceiling and yelled as loud as his lungs would let him, just because. Because he had to and because he didn't care. He yelled again, longer and harder until his lungs hurt, then shook his head and wiped the water from his eyes.

When he turned off the shower, he could still hear her. Knock, knock, knock. Didn't her knuckles hurt? He toweled off and pulled on some sweatpants, and slung the towel around his still-wet shoulders. Knock, knock. His hair was shaggy, overgrown. Knock, knock. It dripped cold water onto his shoulders as he stalked to the door and ripped it open.

White-blonde hair, red lips, and the realization in his brain like a set of gears clicking together. Of course. Her. That new acrobat who slid him looks when she thought he wasn't watching, her eyes glossy pools of curiosity and innocence at once. The one who'd stumbled in on him and Minya in the storeroom, and watched with that hungry gaze. The one person in the world he could least handle at the moment, with her cloying, immature adulation. He started to close the door, but she put one sneakered foot against it.

"I've been knocking for twenty minutes. Why didn't you answer?"

She was angry. Narrowed eyes, arms held tense at her side. He looked down his nose at her. "I was sleeping."

"You weren't sleeping." She gave a pointed look at his towel and dripping hair. "I heard you yelling. What were you yelling about?"

"I was yelling because someone keeps knocking on my door when I'm trying to sleep."

His tone and his expression, calculated to frighten, did not deter her at all. She pushed into his foyer, or maybe he let her in. She looked around the disarray of his living room. Empty whiskey bottles, scattered cigarette butts. A tangle of blankets on the couch, and the TV flickering in the corner, tuned to nothing. White noise. She turned those assessing eyes his way. He let her take him in, in all his hateful misery. Still admire me now? She looked at her feet and he almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

"What do you want? Why are you bothering me?" he snapped.

Her head came up, narrowed eyes again. Anger, a little fear. Pity. Sympathy. Guilt. The emotions played across her golden, prettily formed face like a mirror of all the things he felt. He fisted his hands and towered over her, trying to influence her back toward the door. She stood unmoving, setting her chin.

"Everyone's wondering where you are. Everyone's worried about whether you're okay."

"Everyone? Or you?"

She opened her mouth and closed it. "Are you okay?"

The question was ridiculous, and an answer impossible to frame. Was he okay? No. Was he going to discuss it with this scruffy, naïve little circus pervert? He frowned down at her. "I talked to Melinde yesterday on the phone. As you can see, I'm perfectly fine. If anyone is worried about me, this is their problem, not mine."

"If you're fine, why don't you come back? Why are you hiding in here and yelling in the shower?"

"I told you why I was yelling in the shower. And I'm hiding here precisely to avoid unwelcome confrontations like this one."

She let the words roll off her like water off some fluffy duck. "They're planning a memorial service for Minya. It's next Wednesday, after the show. You should come."

Dieu, she was so chipper. So indefatigable. A fluffy duck indeed. "You liked Minya, did you?" The way he asked it was intentionally sleazy and suggestive. She couldn't misunderstand. Now, finally, she inched back toward the door.

"We all miss her," she said quietly. "I'm sure you miss her most of all."

"You go away," he said, losing patience. "Go away, and don't come back here knocking any more. Because you saw me and Minya that day, you think now we are some kind of friends?" His English was fracturing, stymied by temper. She shook her head, big blue-pool eyes and blonde hair tilting over her shoulders, but he wasn't done. "You think you see that day, me and her, and now you know me? You know Minya? You know my grief and my problems? You can bother me and involve and tamper in my private life?"

"No. I just felt like-- Look, that day--"

"You were wrong to do it, to spy," he said, pointing at her. "Do you even realize it?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about that day. I would have apologized before but...it's awkward."

"You didn't have to watch."

The girl stared at her feet, toeing at the joints of the tiles. She was a baby. What, twenty years old? "I didn't know it bothered you so much," she said. "If you didn't want to be watched, why didn't you find someplace more private?"

"Like a dark storeroom?"

"Like your place, or hers." She waved a hand, backed almost to the door. "Look, I just wanted to be sure you were okay, that's all."

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, annoyed with himself for losing it. Annoyed with himself for trying to hurt her, for wanting to hurt her some more. "Go away," he said. "We're not friends. I'm not your thing to watch after. Not then, not now." He opened the door and nudged her through it. "Go away. This show is over for good."

* * * * *

I will not cry. I will not cry.

Fat chance. It was dark, almost eleven, and Kelsey stumbled down a Paris street weeping rivers of tears over a man she barely knew. A man who clearly hated her. It was so embarrassing. She'd styled herself as the giving, caring Samaritan reaching out to a fellow performer in need, when really she'd just wanted to see him again. He'd called her on it, humiliating her in the process. This show is over. Go obsess about someone else.

Her giddy exultation at being so close to him--in his own little house on Rue des Jours!--was completely destroyed by his cutting words and derisive sneers. She'd imagined a heartfelt conversation. An emotional embrace and sudden, deep friendship and understanding. How stupid! She must have looked so stupid and infatuated in his eyes. To suffer such contempt, and yet still find herself transfixed by his gypsy handsomeness. His high cheekbones, the haughty flaring nostrils and strong jaw that flexed whenever he meant to speak. But the things he'd said to her...

As she walked down the busy downtown street, Parisians stared at her, avoiding her and her tears. Ugh, Friday night. Everyone was out, ready to party, except for one lame, impossibly brainless American girl who just wanted to go home and go to bed. She kept her head down as she neared the area of the Cirque dorms. That was all she needed, a lot of questions from the other cast members. To her relief, she made it to her apartment and dived into bed without running into anyone she knew.

Of course, then she couldn't sleep. Embarrassment turned to anger. How dare he treat her so rudely when she was just worried about him? She thought she should storm back over there and wake him up again and demand an apology, but that would only make her feel like more of a psycho stalker than she already was. She finally drifted to sleep determined to forget about him altogether. He was right. She had no business with him and he had no business with her. She would be better served concentrating on rehearsals and her newly expanded role in the show.

To replace the trapeze act, as a temporary measure, she and several other gymnasts had improvised a tumbling routine and acrobatic choreography that looked a lot more difficult than it actually was. The bigwig owner of the Cirque, Michel Lemaitre, had even come by to preview it and give it a nod of approval. She wouldn't waste another second thinking about Theo Zamora.

That resolve lasted until Wednesday, until the day of Minya's memorial service. Every performer was there, along with the trainers, stagehands and riggers, and the administrative staff from headquarters. Michel Lemaitre was there too, looking severe and mournful in his expensive tailored suit. The involvement of the big boss brought a kind of dignity to the ragtag ceremony. There was no video retrospective, no photos, and Kelsey was glad of it. She couldn't have looked at them without imagining Minya in her final moments, in her yellow costume streaking through the air. No, instead they talked about performance and trapeze, about risk and love and circus. Kelsey was by no means a career circus performer, but she mourned along with the others, thinking of the Minya she knew, the secret Minya kneeling before her gypsy king.

Speaking of which--where the fuck was he? Of all the people who should have been here... No one mentioned his absence, or even referred to him in passing. Later, when Michel Lemaitre left and the alcohol and cigarettes came out, Kelsey wandered around aimlessly, confused. Was it some circus thing? If your partner died, you didn't come to the memorial service? She had a quick word with Diane, who assured her tightly that, to the best of her knowledge, Theo Zamora was fine and probably simply unable to attend.

Unable to attend?

Jason came up behind her and squeezed one of her shoulders. "Hi, Kelsey. How are you doing?"

She turned to find her normally straight-laced coach with a cocktail in hand. "I'm fine. Just...still sad."

"Sure. We'll all be sad for a time. Need a drink? I can grab you one."

"No thanks. I have a question though. Are there any circus traditions, I mean, peculiarities in the way they deal with the death of performers?"

"You're looking at it." He raised his glass. "Remember the fallen and get rip-roaring drunk."

"I guess what I'm asking is, why isn't her partner here?"

"Theo? Your little crush?"

His careless jibe hurt, but she tried not to show it. "He's not my crush. But he should be here, shouldn't he?"

"Would you want to be here if you were him?"

"I don't know. Why not? It's not like it was his fault."

Jason's lips turned down in a grimace. "He probably thinks it was. He had her and he dropped her."

"But it was an accident. He wasn't responsible for it happening."

Jason shrugged and took another sip of his drink. "In the end, Kels, it doesn't matter what you think. It matters what he thinks. He's done anyway."

The offhand finality of Jason's statement hit her full force in the chest. "What do you mean, he's done?"

Jason leaned closer to her, pinning her with his gaze. "Let me ask you this. Would you go up there with him?"

She bristled at the implication in his tone. "Of course I would. What happened was an accident. Theo didn't do it on purpose. It's not like he flung her down there."

"Even so, he dropped her. After that happens, they're never the same. They have what we in the circus call 'bad hands.'"

"Bad hands? That's bullshit."

"A lot of circus stuff is bullshit. It is what it is. Theo Zamora has bad hands now. The people in Tsilaosa know it, the people in Splendide and Diamonte and Idée know it, and the cast of every other Cirque du Monde show in the world knows it. And guess what, their friends in other circuses know it, and their friends know it, and every fucking trapezist from here to Timbuktu knows that Theo dropped Minya from eight stories up. Circus people are a superstitious bunch. Bad hands are bad hands, and once you have them, you're through."

Kelsey turned away, unreasonably angry. A lifetime of work, gone in a moment. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Circus people are stupid," she said.

"You're one of them now. Are you calling yourself stupid?"

Oh, she was stupid all right. She left the memorial service-turned-party a few moments later and headed past the theater, past the dorms and through the side streets of Paris until she was staring at the door of the squat gray-teal house on Rue des Jours. She looked at her watch. It was after midnight. Was she crazy? Why are you doing this? Out of concern? Bullshit. Don't lie to yourself this time.

She lifted a hand to knock, and dropped it again, making a fist. Then she knocked again. Then she pounded. "Theo! Theo--"

The door fell away from the flat of her palm and she stumbled into him with his name still on her lips. He caught her before she fell, and released her just as quickly, like it burned to touch her.

"You again," he said with disgust.

Kelsey forged ahead before he shoved her out and slammed the door on her. "Where were you?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Why are you here? Do you know what time it is?"

"I'm here about her. Minya. Remember her? The memorial service was today. Why weren't you there?"

He stood tall, shoulders back, bare-chested, sweatpants riding far too low on his hips. He was as imposing as ever and not a bit ashamed. "I didn't want to come."

"Why not?"

"She wasn't my family. Not even a friend. Just a partner." He stared somewhere over her shoulder. "A slut for sex, when I wanted it. She was nothing to me."

"You're a liar."

"Believe what you want to believe."

"So you didn't care about her at all? And yet you're holed up here, drunk and miserable, rolling around in your own filth?"

"I showered a few hours ago!"

Kelsey threw a look around his ransacked living room. "So you always live like this?"

He sauntered over to his end table to pick up a cigarette. He slid her a look as he lit it behind a cupped hand, and then turned and blew the smoke in her direction.

"Nice," she hissed, waving the offending cloud away. "Smoking's bad for you."

"So is trapeze," he said drily. "If all you wanted to do was come over and yell because I didn't come to Minya's service tonight, okay. You've done this. You can go now. Go." He made shooing motions at her. When she didn't move, he dragged in another deep pull on his cigarette and regarded her through half-lowered lids. "Or maybe you're here for some other reason. You're horny? You like rough sex? I'm in the market for a new toy to play with." His gaze traveled over her from head to toe. Kelsey hated that his heartless words and assessing look made desire flare in her chest, and between her legs.

"You're repulsive," she said, before her expression could betray the way she really felt.

"You didn't think so that day. You don't think so now." Theo stepped closer and she stepped back. They were still standing in his foyer. Kelsey was a scant second from retreat, from tearing open the door and running as far from Theo Zamora as her legs could take her. He was so close she could smell him, smoke and maleness and cologne. His hair was glossy black in the dim light. She watched his fingers as he turned the cigarette in his hand, then inhaled deeply.

She'd come here to have him. She'd known it all along, but she only just admitted it to herself now. And he knew. That was clear.

Since she'd first seen him, she'd wanted him. The scene she witnessed between him and Minya had only intensified her longing. Now she was here, and a cloud of smoke was the only thing between her and his magnetic sexuality. A cloud of smoke and a thin, quickly waning inkling of self-respect.

"You want?" he asked. He stood an arm's length from her, virile and motionless, just waiting. She wanted to cry from how much she wanted him, and how scared and conflicted she was. Kelsey Martin didn't do stuff like this. She wasn't daring or reckless, or slutty, for that matter.

"I didn't come here for sex." Kelsey cast around for something distancing. For excuses. "I was just annoyed that you didn't come tonight. I wanted to know why."

Theo shrugged, accepting her feint. "I do what I like." He turned and snatched up a bottle from beside the sofa. It was less than half full. He raised it in her direction. "Want some?"

She shook her head and clenched her fists. "Will you ever come back to the Cirque?" She sounded angry. She felt angry. She wanted to grab that cigarette from his lips and smash the bottle over his head. "Will you ever come back and try again, or will you just lie around this messy house feeling sorry for yourself?"

"Is that any of your business?"

She hated him this way. Drinking and smoking, his fine muscles slumped and his olive-gold skin obscured in shadows.

"Why are you doing this? It's so typical, to have a setback and sit around drinking yourself to death."

"A setback?" That snapped him out of his torpor. "A setback?"

Kelsey stood firm in the face of his sudden fury, pointing a finger in his face. "Why don't you just mourn her like a normal person? I know you cared about her!"

"A setback?" he yelled.

"A death! Whatever! You said she was nothing to you. If that's true, why are you getting angry? Why don't you just come back?"

"What? For you? Because this is what you need to feel better? Fuck you, girl. Whoever you are. Stop coming here. Stop bothering me."

He drew in deep breaths and blew them out, not looking at her. Not looking at anything. The bottle was still clenched in his fist. She lunged and grabbed it from him, then skittered back, holding it behind her. His only reaction was a short, bitter gust of laughter. But at least she had his attention. At least he was looking at her now.

"Jason says you can't come back. That you have bad hands, and once you have bad hands no one will work with y--"

He came at her faster than she could move. He pinned her to the wall beside the door with hot fingers pressed against her neck, his palm cutting her words off in her throat. She dropped the bottle with a thunk to the floor and put her fingers over his. She pried at the hand that gripped her, but he only held tighter. Some part of her mind wondered why she didn't fight, why she didn't kick him or pull away. But some deeper, more instinctive impulse commanded stillness. Self-preservation through submission. She gritted her teeth and made a faint protesting sound.

Seconds passed, or hours. She stared into his almond-shaped eyes and saw burning fury--gypsy hellfire and some infinitesimal spark of barely lingering restraint. He moved closer, his lids dropping over a hard, jet black stare. The hand tightened further, so he truly impeded her breath. She should have fought before. She was too breathless to fight now. How far would he go? How far would she let him go before some adrenaline-fueled fight-or-flight instinct kicked in? She held her breath and stared at him, once her idol, now her tormentor. She wasn't suffocating yet; she was an acrobat and her wind power was legendary. He knew it, and she watched the fury commute into something less terrifying. Disdain.

His lips curled in a sneer and he released her as abruptly as he'd attacked her. He muttered something like stupid bitch under his breath as she rubbed her neck and sucked in gusts of air.

"Why did you do that?"

He didn't answer, only bent down to pick up the whiskey bottle at her feet.

She pushed him then. She didn't think, she just did it. He teetered and came up growling. They grappled, trapezist and gymnast, both powerful but disparate in size. She was strong, but nowhere near strong enough to take him. She didn't want to anyway. He pinned her against the wall again, not with his hand this time, but with his entire body pressed against hers. His broad chest rose and fell before her. There were shadowy hollows between the tendons of his neck, and a small mole just at the crest of his clavicle.

"You listen to me." His breath hissed against her ear. "You go now, or else you stay and you come to my bedroom. Your choice." He ground his hips against her. The prodding protuberance of hard flesh between them was impossible to ignore. His hands roved, squeezing breasts, hips, buttocks. "Choose wisely, girl."

"My name is Kelsey," she retorted, squirming against him.

He twisted one hand in her hair, pinning her head against the wall. "I don't care what your name is." He cupped her pussy through her pants and squeezed with his huge hand. She throbbed. She ached. She wanted more of what he was doing to her. The hot breath, the piercing eyes, the effortless dominance. Those grasping hands. "Choose. Now," he whispered.

He pressed harder, one thumb finding her swollen clit through layers of leggings and panties. Oh God! Hot molten lust overtook her. She had the sexual equivalent of stars-in-her-eyes. Pangs of needy sensation rocked her pelvis and shot down the insides of her legs. She moaned, arching her hips against the maddening pressure of his hand.

It was apparently enough of an answer for him. He untwisted his other hand from her hair and grabbed her arm. She tripped along behind him as he dragged her, her short gymnast legs no match for his long-limbed stride. His fingers bit into her wrist but all she felt was the ache in her pussy. Once more, at the bedroom door, he stopped.

"You want?" He let go of her and stood back. She knew it was her last chance to escape. She knew she wouldn't take it.

"I want," she said, scared and shaking with horniness. "Yes."

His kiss was rough and deep. He put a hand on her neck, clasping her close this time, not choking her. The effect was the same. She was his--his prisoner, his plaything. She was under his spell. He pushed her into the room as he kissed her. It was dark, the only light the faint illumination spilling in from the living room down the hall. It disappeared when he kicked the door shut with a bang.

She was immediately disoriented. She didn't know this room, didn't know where the bed was, where closets or tables were. By the time it registered in her lust sodden brain that he was undressing her, he was already finished and she was nude. He was too. There was nothing between them now, and the feel of his hot, thick rod against her stomach shocked her. He was grabbing at her again, kneading her ass and pinching and tugging her nipples. She skittered away, bewildered by sensation and darkness, making frantic, helpless sounds. She finally managed to spit out the issue on her mind. "Condom?"

He cupped her face in the darkness, silencing her panic with a whisper. "Shh. Of course."

She'd barely processed his sudden gentleness when it became jolting motion again. A pull and a shove, and she was down on a bed, gazing up at the outline of a man in the darkness.

He was on her, over her, his knees prizing hers apart and his heavy cock falling against her pussy. Kelsey wasn't a virgin. She'd been sexually active with a very kind and caring boyfriend and had good physical satisfying sex with him. She'd thought herself very sexually adept and experienced. Until now.

She felt like she was falling, descending into an underworld where all that mattered was carnal, brutal physicality. She spread her legs, only to have him force them wider. She arched her back and he yanked on her hair until she felt her spine was about to break. The darkness amplified everything, and she never knew where the next grope, the next scratch or kiss would come. His breath smelled of whiskey. His chest crushed her and his mat of wiry hair scratched across her nipples and breasts.

She drew in deep breaths whenever he released her, only to be suffocated by another punishing kiss. He teased her clit with the tip of his cock as he moved his hips in an animalistic rhythm, then pressed himself hard against her belly. She moaned and dug her nails into his shoulders, wanting him inside.

He pulled away and she was left grasping for her senses. What time was it? Where was she? What the hell was she doing? He was back before she could think on it very long, catching her up again in the vortex of his lovemaking. He turned her over roughly, then pulled her to her knees and drew her arm behind her before she could even orient herself. She cried out, more from need than fear or surprise. His other hand snaked around and down to her pussy, and he thrust in a finger and then two, drawing wetness over her pulsing clit.

She leaned back against his solid warmth, needing the contact, needing grounding. She was about to shatter from the tension and arousal shrieking through her like electricity. "Please. Please." She gasped the words in a whisper, afraid to even communicate with the man who was conquering her so masterfully.

His hand tightened on her wrist and he pulled her arm even tauter across her back. Her breasts jutted forward, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. Theo bowed his head beside hers, the tenderest gesture, and then closed two wicked fingers on her nipple and pinched until she wailed.

She struggled and writhed back against him, and he bent her forward. She hit the bed with a thud and he was over her, holding her down. He let go of her arm but leaned instead on her shoulders, pinning her with no hope of escape. His knees spread her thighs wide and his cock pressed against her wet opening. He slid in to the hilt, stretching and filling her, while his arms pressed her down, down, down. She felt every inch of him like a brand. He whispered in French, words she didn't understand, words edged with menace and sensuality.

Her breasts ached and her pussy was already clenching with the need to orgasm. Everything converged--his force, his desire, his labored breath and his hands on her shoulders. His cock hurt and thrilled her, thick and battering between her legs. She ground against the bed, needing release. She reached down to touch her clit but he stopped her.

"You come when I say, girl." He yanked her hands back up and made her spread them to each side, like angel wings, or a crucifixion. "You stay like that. Let me fuck you."

She recognized the voice from the storage room. Obdurate demand and assured mastery. She lay beneath him, spread and open to him, her hands in fists as he ravaged her. "Yes," he crooned between thrusts. "Just feel me. Just feel me take you."

Oh, she felt him... She'd never felt so elementally sexual. There was only his body and hers, his wants and desires, his cock taking her pussy. He rode her harder, faster, and she sank down under his spell, a willing receptacle for his mysterious power. She arched her hips to take him deeper and he growled in apparent approval. His arms came around her and he squeezed so tightly she could barely breathe. More whispered French in her ear, grunts and groans, and then an English word that was an order. "Come."

Oh God, finally. She slid a hand to her clit but he pushed it away, already in possession of that most sensitive place. He fucked her harder, faster. Each touch of his finger against her button was torment and bliss. She made noises she'd never made before, begging groans and high pitched wails. They reached the crescendo together. As soon as his body tightened and jerked behind hers, her own orgasm roared to life. She gripped the sheets on the bed, her arms still flung wide as he'd demanded, while her whole body shook and shivered in ecstasy.

Then slowly, slowly, she came back to earth. She became aware of his weight and heat, and was bereft when he sighed and slid away from her. She felt empty, clenching on nothing but the memory of his power. Her muscles unwound and she was exhausted, too exhausted to analyze what would happen now, or what she should do next.

He left and returned and still she laid there. He pulled her arm and she turned, expecting to be ordered to leave. But he dragged her down next to him in the dark instead, right beside him on the bed. He slung a leg over her legs, and threaded one hand into her hair. She breathed in his animal scent and marveled at the softness of his skin against her cheek.

He terrified her.

"I should go," she whispered.

"No." His voice was firm and decisive. "You stay."

Chapter Three: Cirque du Minuit

Kelsey woke up alone, with no idea what time it was. The drawn blinds admitted only thin slivers of light on either side, and at the bottom. She had enough light to see that Theo was gone, the space beside her a mess of rumpled sheets.

She picked her clothes up from the floor and stumbled to the bathroom. Her body felt uncharacteristically heavy and sore. She tried to clean up as best she could, and dressed quickly. She twisted her hair into a severe knot on top of her head in an attempt to regain her composure, and washed her face again. She could still taste him on her lips. She could still feel the pressure of him between her thighs.

She had to leave. She had to get out of his place, run home and shower it all away and figure out what the hell had transpired between her and her gypsy king.

Where was he anyway? It was silent in the house, but she smelled the faint odor of cigarette smoke. She walked down the hall to the living room, past blank walls, over cold hardwood floor. He sat at a table near the kitchen, next to a window. Those blinds were drawn too. The orange flare of his cigarette was the only color in the scene, the only color in his bleak, dark home.

"You shouldn't smoke."

He looked over at her but didn't acknowledge her words. Instead, he gestured to the chair across the small table. "Come. Sit. I have toast and café au lait."

Wow. It seemed weirdly domestic, him gesturing her to coffee and slightly charred bread. Café au lait. She remembered irritating her tutor at the gym, oh, years ago. Flabbergasting any and all efforts to teach her anything useful. She'd only ever learned the food names in French. Café au lait. Croque-monsieur. Crepes Suzette. She'd spouted them off in a heavy accent in answer to any lesson questions. She'd found it hilariously funny. Her tutor, not so much, but that hadn't mattered to Kelsey.

From the age of four, she'd trained and competed in gymnastics, and that was all she'd cared about. Now, at twenty-four, she was seeing the world from new, unbalanced angles, like the angle of Theo Zamora's muscle-bound chest and thrown-back arm as he lounged and stared at her. She put a hand to her hair and sat across from him, feeling his gaze on her like prodding fingers. The smell of coffee was edifying, and he had those big wide mugs that were more like bowls. They still looked small in his hands.

Kelsey waited for him to speak, wondering what he had to say after the night before, but he said nothing, and Kelsey stubbornly decided not to talk either. Two could play at that game. She drank the coffee and milk and had toast with some kind of maple butter that tasted sinful. Nearly as sinful as last night.

In the silence, her inner voice screamed. He's there, right there. After masturbating relentlessly to the thought of him...after stalking him around the practice facility like some lovesick puppy, here she was, sitting at a table with him. She'd actually slept with him last night--the reality a hundred times more intense than her fantasies and daydreams.

"You eat a lot for a little girl." His murmured comment drew her from her thoughts. She stopped with her third maple-butter-slathered piece of bread halfway to her mouth.

"I'm not a little girl. And yes, I eat a lot. I have a crazy metabolism. I'm enjoying it while I can."

"While you can? It's going to go away?"

"Maybe. Sometimes things change without warning."

"Yes. I know." There was nothing in his lackadaisical tone or distant expression to signify he was thinking about Minya, but all of a sudden, Kelsey was. She desperately wanted to ask what had gone wrong, what had happened in those last moments when they'd grasped for one another. She thought about bad hands and falling trapezists, and her throat felt tight and hot. She choked down the last bite of bread and brushed the crumbs from her fingers.

"Thank you for breakfast."

He nodded slightly, not looking pleased or displeased. Just...looking.

Kelsey took a sip of coffee for fortitude and squared her shoulders. "I've been thinking about this, and I've decided. I'll work with you," she said in a rush of breath. "I'm not afraid and I'm not superstitious about your bad hands or whatever. I'll work with you if you want."

Theo pushed away his coffee and stretched his legs out. His dry, brittle chuckle landed like a boulder on her ego. "You are the last person on earth I would work with, if I even wanted to work. Which I don't."

Kelsey's face flushed with humiliation. "That's a pretty rude thing to say, especially to someone you fucked last night."

He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "Yes, we fucked. Sorry, I owe you nothing else."

His words hurt, but they didn't surprise her. What surprised her was the fact that she kept poking at him. "I'm not talking about you owing me anything," she said. "Mr. Lemaitre said he would hold a spot for your act for two months. You can come back. I'll work with you."

"Yes, you said that already." Theo moved fast, up and out of the chair, and grasped her by the arm, lifting her to face him. "Why are you bothering me about this? About going back to work? Who cares? You got what you came for, no? And you liked it."

She tried to wrestle away from him but he held her even tighter. She stared up at him, both angered and aroused. He took her chin in his free hand and stroked a thumb across her cheek. "You did like it. I remember."

She pulled away and he let her go this time. She brushed at the invisible marks of his fingers. "You already did the scary-intense act last night. And yeah, I liked it. It was okay. Nothing to write home about." She knew it for a lie, and he probably did too from the mocking look on his face.

Her breath was coming fast and hard all of a sudden. She could still feel the ache of his grip on her arm. She rubbed it and felt a similar ache between her legs. It annoyed her that he still--still--turned her on with just a look. Just a touch, the forcefulness in the way he handled her. She glared at him, trying to hide it all. "Do you have some kind of syndrome that makes you act this way, or are you just a rude, socially inept asshole?"

Theo turned away to clean up the breakfast things, handling her dishes as if she'd sullied them by touching them. "It doesn't matter anyway," he said over his shoulder. "You don't have the skills to work with me."

"I could do it. I could learn." Kelsey snatched the cup out of his hand and carried it to the kitchen herself. "I watched you and her, many times. I--I imagined myself--" She steeled herself in the face of his withering gaze. "I imagined myself flying up there with you. I thought it was...just beautiful. The dynamic between you two."

"Which dynamic? The public or the private one?" he asked. "And why do you imagine I care what you thought about us? Who are you anyway? Some second-string acrobat, nothing more."

"I'm in the show now."

"For a few minutes, doing some very unimpressive tumbling and stunt work."

"How would you know that?" She crossed her arms over her chest, fending off his blistering appraisal of her. Second string. Unimpressive. Fighting words to an overachiever like her. "Did you find me unimpressive in bed last night? Cause it didn't seem that way."

"You're a good fuck. But you're a poor acrobat. You are a gymnast still. Too tight, too worried. You still try so hard to please, like judges will give you scores after the performance. You have no grace, no creativity, just bluntness and...how do you say? Duty. You are dutiful. No performance. No soul. No grace."

"I have plenty of grace!"

He thought a moment, staring off into the distance. "You are like an acrobatic bulldozer."

Kelsey gasped, outraged. "Oh, really? But you cared enough to watch me, enough to notice my work is 'dutiful,' whatever that means. Acrobatic bulldozer, my ass."

He dropped the dishes in the sink with a clatter and spun on her, backing her against the fridge. "You know what? Can I be perfectly honest? You're nothing to me and I feel nothing for you. There can be no partnership, no trust without a connection." He fixed her with a scornful gaze. "I'm sorry, but you've wasted your time in my bed, if this is what you were after. Keep working on your craft. Make friends with the right people and pay your dues. Maybe then you'll get your own act."

Kelsey stared at him, stupefied. "Really? You think this was all some ruse to advance my circus career?" She felt something, some lingering shred of lust or admiration for the man disintegrate to dust and fly away. "You know what? Suit yourself. Sit here in your dark house with your bad hands and be an asshole to anyone who offers to help."

"I don't need any help."

"Maybe you don't, but I obviously do, since I actually admired you once. I thought you were an artist, someone special. Now I see you're just a self-centered asshole. I would appreciate--if you ever do come back to Cirque--if you would not mention last night to anyone."

He laughed. "You are worried about your reputation? The circus is full of sluts. It's okay."

"I'm not a slut. I don't need your shit, and I don't have to concern myself with your problems. I have a lot of other things going on and I don't need negativity like you in my life."

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself. And for the record, I never asked to be in your life."

"Ugh!" Kelsey threw up her arms and went in search of her bag. She turned back at the door, planning to fling some cool one-liner to put him in his place, but he was already sitting back at the table, pouring whiskey into a glass. In the dim light she could barely make out the look on his face...or perhaps it was just that his expression was unreadable.

Either way, she left saying nothing. She felt like that was all they'd done from the start--said nothing to one another in the cruelest way possible. She wasn't about to start talking now. She let the door slam behind her to communicate how felt.

* * * * *

Theo waited for her, one day, two days. Waited for the knock. Rap, rap, rap.

He wanted her to come back. He needed her to come back, but she stayed away, three days, four days, five days. A week. He'd thought her fearless, but she wasn't fearless after all, only reckless and stupid the way so many young women were. Or maybe he had been reckless and stupid in chasing her away so cruelly.

He feared her. She was a spinning tornado, out of control. He had called her dutiful and graceless, and she was. But she was still a ball of intensity, and she called to him somehow. He'd despoiled every inch of her nubile young flesh, stroked and pinched velvet skin over hard muscle. He could still remember the feel of her body, the energy that emanated from her. Minya had been so fragile, a wisp that had slipped, literally, from his fingers. This girl, Kelsey...she was strong and stubborn as an ox. He wanted to feast on her life force. Drink her down and get intoxicated. Kelsey. Kel-sey. Kelz-zeee... He repeated her name over and over like a mantra, testing the foreign syllables on his tongue.

Theo had to sober up. He had to go find her. He had to apologize and explain everything he was dealing with. Minya, his confidence, his life's work that couldn't possibly be at an end. The world didn't make sense anymore, but he knew one thing absolutely. He wanted to fly with her. He'd told her she couldn't do it, but he knew she could. He could take tight and dutiful and twist it in undulating silk ropes until she was flowing like water. Baptism, for him and for her.

How long since he'd worked with aerial silks? He'd dreamed for three nights now of binding her wrists with the silk, binding her so tightly she couldn't fall and she couldn't let go no matter how hard she tried. Climbs, wraps, foot locks, dramatic drops, red silk against pale skin and white-blonde hair fluttering as she flew. Or perhaps black silk. Silver. New colors crowded his subconscious. Light hair, red lips. White straight teeth, ocean-blue eyes, and the rose flush of skin in ecstasy. Red welts and lavender bruises...

No, he wouldn't hurt her. She would bulldoze him long before he could cause her any real harm.

On the tenth day he showered and shaved. He dressed and walked to the Cirque headquarters to request a meeting with Michel Lemaitre.

Reckless. Stupid. Kelsey. Kelz-zeee.

Heal my bad hands.

* * * * *

Kelsey hugged her knees during a training break, watching the other acrobats and performers. She had three sugar straws clutched in her right fist, no matter that Jason would lecture her about it. She needed them. She tore the end off the orange one and tipped it back. She winced and made a face as the tart candy locked up her jaw for a moment.

"What hurts?" Jason asked, hurrying over.

"Nothing. Sour candy." She waved the remaining two straws and got the expected frown.

"Sugar during practice?"

"Just a little. Everything in moderation."

Her coach couldn't argue with that, so he took a seat beside her and joined in watching the other performers.

"Jason," she said after a moment, "is my tumbling...dutiful?"

"Dutiful? I would answer you if I knew what the hell you meant by that."

"Am I good at performing? Am I stiff? Do I have personality and presence during the show?"

Jason paused, which didn't reassure her. Then he shrugged. "You're doing fine. That stuff comes in time, and you're relatively new. Why are you asking me this? Has someone complained?"

"I got a summons to Mr. Lemaitre's office. To a meeting later today."

Jason looked surprised by that. "No one told me. I doubt it's performance related, or they would have talked to me first."

"Maybe it's not about my physical ability. Maybe I'm just generally not up to snuff."

"Stop doubting yourself. And give me those damn things." He grabbed the last straw as she upended the second one. "The meeting is most likely about your unhealthy addiction to Licky Stix."

"Happy candy for happy circus performers. Give it back." Kelsey held her hand outstretched until her coach surrendered the candy straw. "Better than being addicted to meth or crack."

Jason cringed and shook his head with a chuckle. "What kind of crowd have you fallen in with here in Paris? Everything okay?"

He couched the question in a joke, but Kelsey sensed he'd wanted to ask it. In the two weeks since she'd left Theo's house, she'd felt like she was swimming through a sea of conflict and emotion that hadn't troubled her before. She was two different people now, split down the middle by competing desires.

One side of her still wanted Theo, and still daydreamed about the intensity of sharing his bed and the pleasure of his rough hands on her. That side was shouted down by the side of her that recognized him as a mentally unstable and downright dangerous influence. Then there was her new self-doubting side. That made three people all together. Thanks, Theo, for that.

Kelsey sighed and downed the last sugar straw. "Everything's fine, as long as I don't get fired this afternoon."

"Would you feel better if I was at the meeting?"

"Could you stop them if they wanted to fire me?"

"I don't think they're going to fire you, but if they tried, sure, I'd do my best to stop them."

At five o'clock, during the down time between practice and the show, Kelsey made her way through the maze of headquarters to the mysterious upper sanctum of Michel Lemaitre. His office was appropriately large and filled with a variety of circus art and artifacts. She took them in with a quick glance and then became aware of the five faces at the table. Lemaitre, Jason, another man and woman she didn't know, and Theo Zamora, sober, groomed, and coolly composed.

Oh my God, they were really going to fire her. She felt blood rush to her cheeks as she wondered what Theo had told them. He looked different in real clothes rather than training sweats. She couldn't take her eyes off the mole on his clavicle, visible through the open collar of his pristine white button-down shirt. It took her back to that moment when he'd pressed her against the wall by his door. Choose wisely, girl.

She'd always prided herself on making responsible choices in life. And now, just when it seemed that her dreams might be coming true, here she was, facing five people across a table. Not one of them wearing a smile.

Jason's frown scared her most of all. Whatever they were going to do, Jason wasn't happy about it, and since he was on her side, it didn't bode well for her.

"Please join us, Mademoiselle Martin," said Mr. Lemaitre with a crisp French accent. He indicated the lone chair on the opposite side of the conference table. Something about the assessing way he looked at her unsettled her. He looked at all the performers that way, like useful objects rather than people. If he didn't like someone's act--if they were no longer useful--they were cut.

If he cut her... Kelsey couldn't handle failure. She'd always been a perfectionist, always been the one the coach praised and told others to emulate. She'd never failed at anything. Hell, she didn't know how to fail.

She couldn't look at Theo, although she felt him watching her. She couldn't look at Jason either because of the dark look on his face. Instead she smiled at the strangers. The one in the middle, the woman, held her hand out to Kelsey.

"Miss Martin. I've heard a lot about you. It was brave of you to fill in during the aftermath of the recent tragedy."

Kelsey sensed Theo shift slightly to her right. On her left, Mr. Lemaitre steepled his hands together and leaned forward. She'd never seen him so up close and personal before. Michel Lemaitre had piercing blue eyes, a beaked nose, and wavy black hair he pushed back behind his ears. His skin was slightly florid, his stature more compact than she remembered when he was judging her audition.

"You know, the circus is, by nature, a fluid thing," Lemaitre said. "In this company we are always growing, always changing. Acts come and acts go, and I have always thought, you know, the most important thing is the audience. What do they feel? Are they entertained?"

Kelsey could barely understand his lilting accent, the panic in her head was so loud. "Mr. Lemaitre," she burst out. "I know I'm new. I'm going to learn to do better, I swear. It's just a matter of transitioning from the world of gymnastics to the world of Cirque du Monde--"

Theo cleared his throat, and Kelsey risked a glance his way. She could have sworn she saw a fleeting look of guilt on his face. Jason covered her hand with his. "Wait, Kels. Just listen."

Mr. Lemaitre watched all this with his sharp gaze. After a pause, he indicated the two strangers at the table. "Let me introduce Guy Benoit and Mariette Duval. Mr. Benoit is the director of our new Marseille show, currently in development--Cirque du Minuit. Have you ever been to Marseille, Miss Martin?"

Kelsey shook her head, regarding the shaggy-haired, middle-aged man sitting across from her. His deep-set hazel eyes held a kind of wildness. Typical Cirque visionary. Mr. Lemaitre was known to choose his directors based on the amount of risks they were willing to take.

"Ah, but Marseille is a lovely city on the Mediterranean coast," Lemaitre went on, "with superlative weather and pretty scenery. A cultural capital, a melting pot. An ideal venue for a permanent show. Ms. Duval is Minuit's talent scout."

Mariette Duval was younger than Guy Benoit, with close-cropped black hair and liquid brown eyes. She nodded at Kelsey with a warm smile.

"And now," said Lemaitre, "I suppose you wonder what this has to do with you."

Kelsey nodded. She couldn't talk.

Lemaitre looked over at Theo. "Mr. Zamora tells me you are interested in pursuing aerial work. That you expressed an interest in partnering with him."

Jason glared at her. Kelsey ignored him for the moment, focusing on the owner of the company. "We--uh--may have talked about it in passing. He led me to believe he wasn't interested in working with me."

Lemaitre and Theo exchanged a look. "Well..." Lemaitre said quietly. "Mr. Zamora is not exactly in a position to pick and choose his partners. If you're curious about aerial work, Ms. Duval and Mr. Benoit are seeking one last act for their show. An act of darkness and angst, passion and drama. A aerial spectacle in dark scarlet silks. The final act of le Cirque du Minuit. For this act we will need someone strong--and someone fearless." Lemaitre glanced at Theo, then back at her. "I'm told you are the fearless type. Are you interested in this opportunity?"

Aerial silks? Holy hell. Any relief she felt at not being fired was replaced by panic about doing an act with Theo. Sure, Kelsey had offered. It had made sense to her at the time, in a general way. But Theo had shot her down and she'd filed the whole episode away as a what-the-fuck-were-you-thinking moment. She had a nice, comfortable act to do right here at the Cirque Tsilaosa. How the hell had they found out about that conversation?

There was only one way they could have found out.

Kelsey turned to Theo. "Why did you change your mind?" she asked bluntly.

He frowned and scratched beneath his bottom lip. "I have worked with Guy before. I respect him. I spoke to him about doing a solo aerial act and he said no, he was looking for a grand finale. I thought of you." Theo shrugged, as if it was a matter of no import. "It would be challenging work, but you are hard-headed. Stubborn. I told him this."

Lemaitre and Guy Benoit chuckled softly. Jason still scowled.

"You don't have to do it," Jason said. "It's just an offer on the table. As I told them, you're a gymnast with no aerial experience."

"But she learns fast, I think," Theo interjected. "And she has the strength of an aerialist." The two men faced off against each other. Lemaitre looked at Kelsey.

"The choice is yours, Miss Martin. What do you think?"

Choose wisely, girl.

Theo sat straight and still, not looking at her. He was back to his haughty, disinterested act. She felt the urge to throw it back at him, his decision to work with her after all. I changed my mind, she wanted to yell. You're an asshole.

Theo smiled then. She could swear he knew her thoughts. His look was idle but she sensed the turmoil underneath. If he was trying to get her as a partner that meant he was desperate. All the eyes in the room were on her, but only one pair communicated such secret depths of despair.

Choose, now. You want?

God help her, she wanted. Kelsey turned to Michel Lemaitre and met him gaze for gaze. "Yes. I suppose I'm crazy enough to do it. I'll work as Mr. Zamora's partner. When do we start?"

Chapter Four: Ascent

Brave, stupid Kelsey. Theo had known she would do it. Or hoped, anyway.

Her American coach was angry. He'd had some choice words for Theo before the meeting, and some choice words for Kelsey afterward. Michel Lemaitre, however, was impressed and amused by her. Theo knew it was a good thing for her career to catch his eye, an even better thing to impress him with her presumed courage. Michel Lemaitre loved only one thing more than abject submission, and that was courage. Balls.

Ballsy little gymnast. Theo could see the oh, shit crawling over her like a rash as soon as Michel offered her the job. She'd almost turned it down, struggling to reconcile her attraction and simultaneous hatred of him.

In a perverse way, he wanted her rage. He deserved it. He'd lingered afterward, eavesdropping on her clipped argument with her trainer, in hopes she would seek him out and stand up to him again, eyes flashing and arms crossed over her chest in a show of bravado he recognized as patently false.

When people crossed their arms over their chests, it was a protective gesture.

One week. They were leaving in a week.

They had a lot of work to do. A mountain of work, starting with a bus ride to beautiful, warm Marseille. New apartments, new friends. Theo knew Marseille, had traveled there as Michel Lemaitre's guest, had worked with Guy on other shows and concepts. Twenty-two years he'd been in the circus, since he was twelve. As for when he would stop, he just trusted he'd know. He'd tried to stop after Minya. It would have been a natural stopping place. Maybe if Kelsey hadn't come knocking on his door and nagging him, he'd be done right now. Settling into some aerial school somewhere, or some gym, or retiring on a farm. Growing his own food and living off the grid.

Theo hated people. Most people. Kelsey...he loved and hated her just as she loved and hated him. For this reason, they would have a perfect partnership. Minya...she had loved him too much.

Don't think about her. Don't think about it. If he was going to keep performing, he needed his mind clear, his focus unwavering. For Kelsey's safety and his. But he still wasn't sure what to do about...the other thing. The reaction Kelsey triggered in him. The hot lust and violence he felt every time she followed him with her eyes. The impulse to grasp her wispy white hair in his fist and force her to her knees, only to feel her fight back and then submit to him.

He was no better than Michel.

But Kelsey would not be Michel Lemaitre's, not while Theo had life in his body. He'd seen the flicker of interest there, the speculation. Theo had communicated with a look that she was his, and not available. She would be under his protection in Marseille, because he knew just what kind of perverts and degenerates were there. Cirque du Minuit indeed. Midnight Circus, dire and dangerous. Michel had chosen the theme and many of the cast members himself. Theo knew Michel considered him the final victory of casting, the fallen artist resurrected to haunt them all. If Michel wanted a midnight circus, he'd get it, but not at Kelsey's expense.

Kelsey, blonde and wide-eyed, like Little Red Riding Hood without her cape. Theo stayed to watch her in the show that night, earnest and energetic in her acrobatic routines. He studied her body--where she was strong, where she was weak. Where she was beautiful. He remembered her under him that night, writhing and moaning, all her uptight posturing fallen away.

Theo would have her again. It took his breath away to think about it. Not tonight, but soon, she would scratch and cling to him again, and that would only be the start of what they would do together.

He left before curtain call, ambling over toward the dormitories. He knew which one was hers. He also knew she wouldn't go out with the others after the show, or stay backstage to talk and smoke cigarettes. She didn't smoke or drink, only eat candy, long striped straws of sugar. He'd seen her with them and, curious, bought some at the store and tried one. Only one. Disgusting.

He lingered outside her residence hall and smoked half a cigarette. Not long after ten she came along, all alone, just as he'd expected. "Kelsey," he said, stepping out from the shadows near her door.

She screamed, a shrill piercing noise that set his hair on end. Not one other door opened. No one at Cirque du Monde came home right after the show. Only Kelsey, who had stopped screaming and was looking at him in chagrin.

"Thanks for scaring me shitless," she snapped.

"Thanks for bursting my eardrums," he replied. "I want to come in." He gestured toward her door.

She put her hands on her hips, another Kelsey-ism. "Oh, really? You want to come in? After the way you treated me last time we...talked?"

"I'm sorry." He wasn't really, but his quick, curt apology seemed to confuse her into silence, which was a good thing. "Do you have your key?" he asked.

She pursed her lips and shoved the key in the lock. She opened the door and for a moment he thought she'd close it in his face, but then she stepped back and let him enter.

He remembered the Cirque dorms from many years ago, before he'd bought his own place. White and bland, boxy and suffocating. He looked around and found Kelsey's apartment as organized and neat as he'd expected it to be. No clutter on the counters, no dirty dishes in the sink. A small TV and a futon with a hot water bottle and heating blanket draped over the arm. His eyes narrowed on her.

"Are you injured?"

She shook her head. "Just different muscles getting exercised. What do you want? I'm tired."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "A 'thank you' might be nice. For getting you a new job. A finale act."

"I didn't ask you to get me anything."

"You said you wanted to work with me."

Hands on her hips again. "And then you made me feel like shit and I decided I would rather chew asphalt than work as your partner."

He chuckled softly, turning away. "Ah, yes. You despise me. Then why did you tell Michel yes?"

"I don't know why, but I did. God give me the strength to carry it through."

He looked up at her sharply. "Are you religious?"

She shrugged. "When I need help I start spouting prayers, but in general, no. What does it matter?"

"You must get your strength somewhere." He meant it as a compliment, but she still seemed perturbed.

"What do you want, Theo? There's no fucking way I'm sleeping with you again, so if that's why you're here, you might as well leave."

"I just came to tell you we practice tomorrow. You and me. Try the silks out."

Kelsey put her fingers over her eyes and pressed. He watched her, puzzled, and then she flung her hands out at him, making him jump. "Cirque du Minuit? I don't think this is healthy, Theo. This is not an appropriate way to mourn."

"What do you mean? I'm not mourning."

"Midnight Circus? Darkness and angst? Passion and drama?"

"Michel chose the theme. It has nothing to do with Minya. This has been in pre-production for months."

"Yes, and now he wants you in it. Is this a good thing for you right now?"

"Yes, a good thing," he answered stubbornly. "For you and for me. Tomorrow, ten in the morning, you be ready. I'm going to come get you."

"How did you even know where I lived?"

He glared at her without answering, and then he spun to go. He had to get away from her. She asked too many questions. Impossible girl, and now his aerial partner. Mon Dieu.

Theo knew how to pray too.

* * * * *

Theo came for her at ten, as promised. His clean-shaven, respectable sheen of the day before had already disintegrated, leaving behind a night's worth of stubble and an epic case of bed head. And those sweats riding low on his hips again. Damn him.

But this was work. They were going to start training, and there was certainly no reason for her to be obsessing over those neat indentations on either side of his waist, or the way they disappeared into a perfectly lickable "v". No, no! Not lickable. Nothing about him is lickable. Just stop, Kels.

They drove about an hour out of Paris in Theo's little Renault, to a forested suburban park. For Kelsey, it was her first trip out of the city since she'd arrived a few months before. They didn't speak on the trip, not once. Theo wasn't into small talk, apparently. He also ignored her pointed coughs and throat clearing when he lit up a couple cigarettes along the way. Kelsey was thankful to find him a cautious driver, at least. Driving out into the country made her miss her home in California, even though this looked nothing like California.

Theo finally pulled into a clearing at the end of a long rutted path. The grass was rough and thick, but recently mowed. There were no cabins or tents, just a cluster of forest three quarters of the way around. Theo grabbed a duffel bag out of his trunk and headed over to the center edge of the clearing, to a massive, thick-limbed tree. He dropped his bag near the base and unzipped it, then pulled out a dingy white bundle of folded material. He shoved it under his arm and turned to the tree, and started scaling the trunk.

Kelsey stared in amazement. Really? It wasn't like Theo labored up carefully or slowly. He climbed it like a monkey, pushing with his knees, pulling himself up with his arms. His arm. One arm. The other still had the bundle underneath.

He passed the first few branches until he got to a thick one arching out over the clearing. He levered himself up to straddle it and scooted across until he came to a fork in the branch. This was a tree, not some Cirque structure with a bunch of safety wires on it and a mat underneath. He was probably forty feet up, if not higher. If he fell...

The muscles in his forearm flexed as he untwisted the bundle and began unraveling yards and yards of aerial silk. The fabric was wide, tissue-like, blowing in the soft breeze like a sail as he kept unwinding it. He was still straddling the branch, holding on with nothing but his knees. One of the silk tails flew over to where she was standing. Kelsey grabbed it and gathered it up in her fingers. It felt so soft and delicate.

"So..." She yelled up at Theo, balancing above her. "You're allowed to bring their silks out here? What if they get dirty or ripped?"

He leaned back, bracing his hands on the branch. "These are my silks, not Cirque silks. These are my practice silks, and they don't rip. Made special, yeah?" Kelsey gasped as he leaned forward to put both hands on the silk and jerk the material hard between his fists. "You see? Strong. Silks don't break. Ever." He glared at her a moment before rigging the material into an elaborate knot at the intersection of two branches.

Silks don't break. Ever. Only human error could send her plummeting to the earth. Kelsey let go of the fabric and closed her eyes against the unwanted flashback, the streak of yellow and orange. When she looked up again, Theo launched himself from the branch, one arm extended, and she thought she was trapped in the flashback. She gasped until she realized he was only sliding down the silks. He fell fast until he caught himself with a jerk near the bottom. She watched the muscles of his arm and shoulder bunch up into a sculpture-worthy landscape, then relax as he let go. She released a soft breath.

He ignored her alarm, lazily removing his shirt and tossing it into his duffel bag. She stared at those muscles, at that body that could seemingly do anything. Climb forty feet into a tree and balance like some exotic bird on a branch, then swoop down in an effortless descent. He wasn't even winded.

The hanging tails of fabric undulated between them now, obscuring him and then revealing him again. "Why do you have your own silks when you're a trapeze artist?" she asked.

"Before trapeze, before tightrope, I did silks."

Kelsey gawked. "You did tightrope too?"

He waved an arm. "Anybody can do tightrope. I started tightrope at four years old. It was play time. Easy."

"Do you come from a circus family?" There were families at the Cirque du Monde who were already introducing their children to the rudiments of their art. For many families, circus was a tradition. She could imagine Theo being raised like that. How else to explain his uncanny talent and strength? He shrugged and went back to his bag, rummaging around and coming up with some rosin.

"My family was circus, yes. More like...how do you say? Carnival? Traveling to perform."

"Like gypsies?" Kelsey hinted.

He scowled at her as he handled the rosin bag. "My family is not gypsies. We are French and Algerian. Not so romantic, I know."

Kelsey's face flamed in embarrassment. Why the hell had she said that about gypsies? "Are you close to your family?" she asked.

"No."

Well, that curt answer didn't do much to further the conversation. He threw her the rosin bag and crossed his arms over his chest.

Kelsey rubbed the bag between her hands. "So why did you stop aerial silk and go to trapeze?"

"Same reason you stop acrobatics to do aerial. To work with a certain person." He busied himself putting the rosin away.

"Minya?" she asked.

"Oui," he answered curtly. "She was very talented. Her family, they were all famous trapezists. I wanted to work with her." He seemed about to say more, but then he clamped his mouth shut and turned his back on her to tug at the silks again. Kelsey had a thousand questions about him and Minya, but she knew it was pointless. When he finally turned back to her, he gave her a little nudge.

"Go on. Climb up. Up to the top, as far as you can go." Theo gestured carelessly into the towering treetop and held out the silks.

Kelsey hesitated. The branch looked awfully high, and she knew for a fact the ground would feel hard if she fell. "This is stupid. There's a perfectly good practice facility back in Paris."

"I want to see if you are strong. And if you are scared. Afraid, girl?" he asked with a tilt of his head, and a pout she wanted to slap right off his face.

She grabbed the pair of silk tails from his hands. "My name is not 'girl' and I'm not afraid. And you damn well know I'm strong enough--Fuck!" A sudden gust of wind sent a hailstorm of round, pointed seedpods down from the tree to pelt Kelsey's head and shoulders. She brushed off the offending nuggets and glared at Theo when he chuckled. She didn't think even one had hit him. God, this irritating man. Had she ever found him attractive? Had she really writhed under him in ecstasy?

She turned away in self-loathing and self-protection. Yes, she had, and yes, she wanted to again. She wrapped the dingy, tacky silk around her fists, testing the strength of it, even though she'd already seen it hold his weight.

"Are you sure this is perfectly safe? That branch isn't going to break?"

He gave her an unctuous look. "If you fall, I'll catch you."

Kelsey tsked and started to climb. The material was surprisingly easy to grip, either from the rosin she'd used or the rosin he'd put on there before. She climbed hand over hand, letting go of one of the tails to hike herself up the other one. Words of an old lullaby came to mind. Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop. When the wind blows, the cradle will rock... Wind blew hair in her eyes, but it wasn't strong enough to blow her around. But the branch above her... She looked up, pausing. She was about ten feet from the branch. Her arms were growing tired. If the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and down will come baby--

"Wrap your leg around," Theo called from below. "If you get tired, make a lock for your foot."

More on instinct than any real know-how, Kelsey slipped her foot around the silk a few times and then pushed down. The "lock" held. She could stand, in a way, and take a little pressure off her arms. She wrapped a hand around the gray-white fabric too and felt more secure. She was enjoying her feeling of victory when the silk she was hanging on began to sway.

"Theo!"

He was below her, dragging it to one side, then the other.

"Are you trying to make me fall?" she shrieked.

Theo grinned. "Fall? No, girl. I'm trying to make you fly."

"I'm not ready to fly just yet," she said, hating the panicked sound of her voice. The branch above her creaked. She looked up, then down to see Theo climbing the other silk, almost abreast with her.

"How much do you weigh?" Kelsey asked shakily. "I know that's a thick branch, but--"

He reached out a finger and put it to her lips. "This tree is stronger than you can imagine. The silk is strong. I am strong." He paused to wrap his leg in the silk as he hung beside her. "What about you? Strong enough, Kelsey? Brave enough?"

She resisted the urge to look down, instead keeping her gaze locked on Theo's darkly animated eyes. "I just need a little time to get used to this, okay? Before you start scaring me again."

Theo blinked in innocence. "Scaring you? Moi? I don't know what you speak of." He reached out to her, pulling her close, both of them swaying thirty feet up, limbs wrapped in diaphanous silk. "You be a good, brave girl, and I'll let you come back my place after, eh?"

She always imagined him as dark, threatening. But up close he had light, tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose. His arm tightened around her. His lips were so close she could feel their warmth. "You want, Kel-zee?"

He always said her name like it was something sleazy. His closeness was crippling her defenses, overwhelming her pride, her wishes to snub him. She sniffed in a poor--and fake--attempt at disdain. "We're working together on this act now. We shouldn't sleep together." Like you and Minya. She didn't say the words out loud but she knew he heard them.

He blinked a few times, pursed his lips. "Ah, okay. We must act serious."

"We're thirty feet in the air!"

"Come, we fly," he said, checking her grip and the wrap around her leg. Then he transferred to her silk and before she could think of anything to say that didn't sound cowardly or idiotic, he made them move. He did it so easily, like a child pumping a swing. They flew back and forth and then in an arc, around and around. It felt slow and yet fast, relaxing and yet terrifying. She stared at the hand above her, the tight, gripping fist. It took her a while to realize his other arm was around her waist, one more attachment point to this flimsy fabric holding her above the earth.

"You like this?" he asked, his voice a low rumble against her ear. Did she like it? It was fun, swinging back and forth. She felt secure, for the moment.

"Sure, I like it, Theo. I just don't understand why in holy fuck you couldn't let me get used to all this back at headquarters, where there are soft, cushy mats."

"Because we build trust," he said matter-of-factly, disengaging from her and spinning her silk as he swung on his own. "Do you trust me?"

It was such a loaded question, but in her nervousness she spit out a careless answer. "I would trust you more if I had a safety line."

She saw a flash of anger in his eyes, but then it was gone. "No safety lines in aerial silk," he said. "Aerial silk is your safety line. You twist in it"--he indicated her locked hand and foot--"and it holds you. Simple."

She held his fathomless gaze. "I'm sorry, Theo. I didn't mean anything-- I didn't mean to say--"

"In aerial silk, I am not responsible for your safety. You understand this?"

Theo's mouth had gone tight, his manner cold and pedantic. He started to teach her the basics of the craft, showing her the various ways to grip and wrap the silk. Kelsey soaked it all in, feeling chastised. She'd liked him better as the playful acrobat scaling the tree and swinging her around. Now he was a strict teacher, his eyes scrutinizing every movement, every line of her form.

He explained about climbs, wraps, and drops, about flying and balancing, about friction and contortion, about elegance and the pose. They were up and down off the silks. He demonstrated some tricks by himself way up high, fearlessly, and did other things near the ground with his hands on her, pushing and pulling at her body to show how it was done. His fingers traced her muscles, arranging her arms, pressing on her shoulder. He smelled like sweat and cologne, and fresh air. Kelsey started to resent the silk fabric between them, wishing to touch, unimpeded, the startling hardness of his body. The unexpected softness of his skin.

You want?

Oh, God, yes. I want.

"You paying attention?"

His sharp voice brought her fantasies into focus. She met his gaze, caught fixating on the pulse at the base of his neck. "Yes," she lied. "I'm paying attention." I want. I want.

His gaze dissected her. He would have to be blind to not perceive how badly she craved him. His rough kiss, his body bearing down on hers. He stared at her, and she could see the animal wildness he usually kept in check, written right in the taut planes of his face. He guided her down off the silks, hurrying her with impatient hands. She leaned away from him as they stood, a self-protective movement.

He drew her back, his fingers spread against her waist, then pushing at her waistband. He plunged one hand down the front of her leggings. She put a hand on his wrist but he didn't stop, and she didn't really want him to.

"You said we can't do this, no? Because we work together?" He mocked her, his fingers slipping through the evidence of her attraction, her need.

"I didn't say we c--can't," she stammered. "I said we shouldn't." She drew in a soft breath as he found her clit. He manipulated it expertly, lightly, giving her bursts of pleasure that teased but didn't satisfy. She panted under his desultory gaze. The silks billowed free behind him. She watched them in a kind of trance as his fingers left her. He stripped off her shirt and bra, peeled down her fitted pants. He wasn't gentle, or rough...just intent.

Theo lifted one of her hands. "Take it. Hold the silk above your head." She didn't understand at first what he wanted. Impatiently, he wrapped her hand, locking one wrist in the white length. He took the other silk and this time Kelsey bound herself, gritting her teeth against chattering even though she was warm. Hot. She was burning up for him.

"Hold on to the silk," he ordered. Then, in one liquid motion, he went to his knees and lifted her legs over his shoulders.

Oh Jesus fucking God! She almost started to cry. The relief, the gratification. He held her ass in his hands and parted her pussy lips with his thumbs, licking, teasing in persistent strokes. She threw her head back, suspended by the silks. Her arms strained to hold tight while the rest of her body twisted and jerked, seeking to assuage the ache he was building inside her. I want, I want...

"Oh God, Theo," she gasped. She tried to pull away from the torment of his hot mouth. She wanted more than teasing. She wanted him inside her, possessing her. His lips were driving her crazy. "Fuck me, Theo. Please!"

He shook his head. "I have nothing. No condoms."

She gripped the silks, frustrated and unsatisfied. No condoms. Damn him. "Are you clean? I mean..."

Theo shrugged. "I was with Minya only. Five years. We did tests."

"Then just..." Kelsey squirmed. "Can you pull out? I'm not on the pill." God, it was so reckless. He made her feel so out of control.

He let her knees down, considering. "How do I know you're clean?"

"I've only been with one guy. Besides you. And he was a virgin too, when we..."

Theo smirked at that. Asshole. He took his pants down, kicked them off. "We'll say you're clean then, yes? I'll make you dirtier. That's what you want."

Kelsey felt caught somewhere between laughing and screaming. Her wrists were still trapped over her head in silken bonds of his making. "Just pull out. Please don't come inside me. Can you do that?"

He shrugged. "I've done it. Many times." He came to her, unleashed and wild again now, to take her. He began with a kiss, mashing his mouth against hers. Their tongues dueled, and he won, of course. She could taste her scent on his lips, sharp and salty. One hand locked on the back of her neck, while the other splayed on her ass and pressed her against him so she could feel all his broad, hard length.

He lifted her again, and she watched as he pressed his cock to her center. He looked up at her then, watching her. She couldn't hold his gaze. She couldn't look away from the sight of him sliding into her. His abs rippled and his chest tensed as he drove in to the hilt. He started to fuck her and she struggled against him instinctively, locked in the silks like an insect in a spider's web, waiting to be devoured. He grasped her breasts, pinching her nipples, squeezing them until they hurt almost as sharply as her pussy ached.

She rode him, swinging from the silks, reveling in every pounding thrust. He'd sparked a flame in her with his lips and tongue; now he was stoking it into a fire that was burning out of control. Each long, firm stroke of his cock pushed her closer to ecstasy. Her pelvis grew heavy, tingling and building to the apex she sought, but her arms ached and she was growing weak with the need to come.

"Theo..." She tried to reach for him, but couldn't, flailing in the silk. He helped her unwind her hands, clasping her close when she hung from his neck. She was falling apart. "Theo!"

He took her down to the ground, covering over her, driving into her while she held on to him for dear life. They rocked together while the silks sailed free above them. The tails brushed across her arm, across his back. His breath was heavy against her shoulder, and his cock was touching her more deeply than she ever thought possible.

She clenched against his length, so warm, so hard, arching her hips to take every inch. The tingling in her pelvis grew and then seemed to collapse in a pinpoint motion to one center--the place where he and she were joined. Soft silk slid over her face and she cried out.

It was like a veil lifting. She stared up at sun and blue sky and clouds and felt Theo over her, and the earth under her, and her body contracted around that part of him she hungered for. The pleasure wrung her out, left her to die. But she wasn't dead. She was more alive than she'd ever felt before. Her heart raced, her pulse pounding in unison with her orgasm.

Kelsey fell away from him, spent. Theo grunted and jerked back, and she felt hot wet spurts of cum land on her stomach and breasts. One last low moan, and he collapsed beside her, his head propped on his arm.

Kelsey stared at him, fascinated. He never looked tired or weak. Never. Except for now, after sex. He seemed fixated on the fluid decorating her body.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For pulling out."

He looked at her then, and she could see the war in his face. He wanted to mock, and he wanted to be cold. But he had enjoyed their encounter as much as she had. He had gripped her and ridden her so hard she could still feel the ghost of his girth between her legs. He finally settled on a lurid smile.

"You're dirty now."

Kelsey laughed, and reached to stroke a hand through some of the semen, but he stopped her. "Let me."

He reached out for one of the silk tails that still fluttered about them, and dragged it across Kelsey's stomach and chest. He smeared his ejaculate over her, over the fabric, up to her nipples and down to her pussy. He nudged her legs open and wiped the silk over her lust-glazed slit.

Kelsey cringed inwardly. The fabric was yards and yards long, and undoubtedly required specialized cleaning. "Stop," she said. "Your silks will be dirty."

He ignored her, drawing it right against her clit. "This is not dirty. This is you and me, partners now. These silks are not mine anymore." He gave her a penetrating look. "Ours."

He let the fabric go, to billow back out in the breeze. He brought her clothes, and donned his while she stumbled around trying to dress, think, and walk correctly again.

Ours.

They were going to Marseille to do an act together. To collaborate, to trust. He already accepted her, and she...she feared and worshipped him at once. More than that, she was smeared all over his practice silks. It was a commitment. In that moment, Kelsey knew she would do anything he asked her. She would go to be in a circus with him in Antarctica. Anywhere. She would make him glad he'd trusted her, and committed to her. She would work hard and be a damn good aerial partner.

But she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to climb trees like him. He was already up there again, undoing the knot. He looked down at her. "Catch it, Kelsey."

Kelsey. Finally, he was using her name instead of "girl." And not saying it in such a sleazy way. She reached up and gathered the silk as it fell over and around her. All together in one bundle, it was heavier than it looked. Theo scooted down the tree and showed her how to lay it out and fold it carefully to minimize wrinkling, which could weaken the fabric. It took almost fifteen minutes to do it properly, working side by side.

"Theo," Kelsey asked when they'd finally finished folding it into a surprisingly compact bundle. "Does this silk 'belong' to anyone else besides, you know...you and me?"

She didn't know why she had to know. She just did.

Theo smiled at her and winked. "For now, just you and me. But we will see...in Marseille..."

In Marseille... Hmm.

Chapter Five: Warnings

Theo drove home with her in a silent funk. He knew he shouldn't have said it. If he could have stopped the words coming out of his mouth, he would have. Ours. He was such a fucking idiot.

Theo had sworn to himself, after Minya, that he would not get close to a partner again. In the haze of grief and alcoholic mourning he had doubled over with the pain of losing her and berated himself. Never again. Never again.

He was so weak, so pathetic. Minya was barely gone. He could still remember the smell of her skin, the wispy lilt of her broken French in his ear, and now he was starting up with this new girl. Kelsey. Silly and impulsive and American. The horror. There were so many things about her he disliked in theory, but when he took her all together, she was irresistible to him. It was frightening, the attraction he felt when she was near.

He could push her from his thoughts, even talk himself into despising her, but then he'd see her--her cute little mouth, her shiny hair swinging in a ponytail, her compact and very American curves--and he'd want to touch her again. He even liked to talk to her, to tease her and make her mad. He wanted to know everything about her when they were together.

And then he wanted to push her away.

Theo dropped her off at the dorms, watching her walk to the stairwell, watching the sway of her tight, sculpted ass. He wanted to fuck that ass, fuck every hole in her body. Today she hadn't even made him use a condom. So trusting. He could have come deep inside her and made a baby in her. He would have forced her to keep it, found a way, somehow. He didn't even want children. He just wanted her, wanted to have power over her. Ownership of her. He wanted her.

Disgust settled over him as soon as she was out of his line of sight. He spun his car toward home, realizing with a start that he hadn't had a cigarette in hours. He fished one out and lit it, then forgot to take a drag. He finally tamped it out and tossed it from the window, imagining Kelsey's tsk. She probably hadn't littered in her life. Never crossed anywhere but a crosswalk, never mixed her whites and darks in the wash. Shit, he needed to do laundry.

Shit. Jason Beck was standing in front of his house.

Theo parked, glad he'd ditched his cigarette. He didn't need any more disapproval from squeaky clean Beck than he already got on a daily basis. Since Kelsey had taken an interest in him, Beck gave him dire looks every chance he got. The coach probably wanted her for himself. It was bad form for the coaches to fuck the performers, but it happened all the time.

Not Beck though. Jason Beck was far too proper for that. With his propriety and Kelsey's perfectionism, they actually would have made a great couple, raising the next generation of cutters and anorexics. Theo tried to smile at the coach, but it came out a sneer.

"To what do I owe this honor?"

Theo didn't stop, but Jason fell into step behind him, following him to his door. "I need to talk to you. You're a hard man to get a hold of."

Theo turned and smirked at him. "I was with Kelsey."

Jason's lips tightened and one eye twitched. "What a coincidence. That's who I wanted to talk about."

Theo opened the lock and gestured Jason inside. He flicked on the lights and nodded toward the couch. Jason pushed away blankets, dishes, and dirty laundry with a grimace, clearing himself a place to sit. Theo ambled into the kitchen.

"Get you a drink?" he offered.

"No, nothing," Jason said. "I won't be here long. I just have something to say."

Theo raised his eyebrows, returning with a beer to sit in the threadbare recliner opposite him. "Just one thing?"

"I don't know what you said to her. I don't know what you did to her to make her offer to be your partner."

"Believe me, you're better off not knowing," Theo murmured.

Jason leaned forward, not tempering his words with any politeness. "Listen, Zamora. This isn't funny. It's not a joke, not to me, not to Kelsey. And it shouldn't be to you. You're holding an inexperienced, impressionable girl's career in your hands. I hope you know what you're doing. I hope you can grasp the concept that this type of manipulation comes with a burden of responsibility."

"And I hope you can grasp the concept that I manipulated her into nothing," Theo shot back. "Your star pupil approached me. She offered to do an act with me and I accepted that offer. End of story. At least for you." Theo lounged back in his chair with a challenging glare. "What is this all about? This strange protectiveness? She is your athlete, nothing more. Or...did you have something more? Have I stolen your plaything?"

"She's not my plaything," Jason growled. "Or yours. I never thought of her that way. I only want what's best for her. Forgive me if I don't believe going up in the air with you is a wise career move for her. For anyone."

They were fighting words, and Theo would have enjoyed a fight. He and the pompous American coach would have been an even match, with the other man's brawn and sense of righteousness, and Theo's wily strength. It would have given Theo an outlet for his frustration over Kelsey, but it was thoughts of Kelsey that stopped him from attacking Jason. She would give him that reproachful look he couldn't bear. The look she'd given him when he'd pretended Minya meant nothing to him. The look she'd given him when he'd pretended she meant nothing to him. Theo uncurled his fists and settled for a snort of contempt.

"Don't worry, Beck. I'll watch after your sweet, impressionable darling. I won't drop this one."

Jason's already dark expression turned thunderous. "I don't know how you can joke about it, Theo. I really don't. It makes me wonder..."

"Wonder what? If I am crazy? If I have no conscience? Believe me, I wonder those things myself. I deal with it in my way." Like letting an exasperating pest of a gymnast into my life. Letting her under my skin. Into my heart. Jesus. Theo glared at Jason. "Have you said what you came here to say?"

"Not really, no. I can't say what I really want to say. So let me say this. There are people who are going to be watching, monitoring you. Very carefully. I know you think your seniority and your little 'thing' with Lemaitre will protect you, but if you hurt her, I will personally see to it that you pay."

Theo found the man's bravado both amusing and unsettling. "What is it you think I will do to her?"

"Well, aside from maiming or killing her, and ruining her career..." The corner of Jason's mouth turned down and he gave Theo a significant look. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

Theo's lips curved in a slow smile. "Yes, I would like you to."

"Kelsey's like a child, Zamora. She's forthright and trusting and vulnerable and raw. If you take her and twist her into another--another Minya--"

"She is not Minya," Theo snapped.

"Another mindfuck victim for fun and games," Jason spat, talking over him. "Another fucking lamb to the slaughter--"

"Enough." Theo's voice reverberated off the walls of the room. He really hadn't thought Beck would go there. It took a moment before he could speak without his voice shaking. "You have no right to judge me in this."

Jason's voice was like iron. "Keep her away from the Citadel. Keep her away from Lemaitre and his craziness. Marseille is worse than Paris, and even Paris would have been too much for her." Jason's eyes narrowed. "Or have you already taken her there?"

"No," Theo said. "I have not. But..." He traced a finger up the carved arm of his chair. "I think you don't give her enough credit. She is not exactly what you think. What you want to believe she is. That is all I will say about that."

"That's all I want to hear about that." Jason blew out a frustrated breath. "I wish I could just not care, Zamora. I really do. I wish I was like you, without any scruples, without any sense of right or wrong."

"It's a nice life."

"You're joking again. Awesome. Well, I'll tell you one last time. Kelsey is not a joke. Not to me, not to her parents, not to a lot of people who love her. If I find out that you're doing anything to harm her--"

"Will there be spies? This is getting exciting. I'll have to enact my plans for her utter destruction on the sly."

Jason surged to his feet, and Theo met him chest to chest, nose to nose. To his credit, the American coach didn't flinch, not even under the full power of Theo's most threatening gaze.

"Do you feel anything for her?" Jason asked. It wasn't a question Theo expected. Jason's eyes searched Theo's for answers, for reassurance. Theo let him see only as much as he wanted him to see, but it seemed to be enough. The man backed off and headed toward the door.

"I'm going to warn her about you, you know," Jason said, turning. "I'm going to prepare her for the stuff you'll try to pull."

"You may be a little late on the draw," Theo replied, to get in one last jab. "I find it strange, your drive to protect a very capable and strong woman. You always loved to play the white knight. In this case, I'm afraid you're on a pointless quest."

Jason shot him one last scowl before exiting and slamming the door.

* * * * *

It was Kelsey's last night in Paris. She was almost finished packing the few things she had. Clothes, a few books and CDs. Her laptop. Her pillows and blankets. Her exercise gear--hand weights and drawers full of leotards, sports bras, and leggings. All the things she'd just unpacked a few months before. Well, this was the life of a circus performer. Packing light, never really putting down roots. She was prepared to live like this for a while.

She'd just learned she'd be living in the same house with Theo--and several other performers. There were no official Cirque dorms in Marseille, at least not yet, so the relocation officers with Human Resources had rented out several private residences in the city. Kelsey and Theo would be moving into a multi-bedroom home built in the early 1900s, already occupied by a couple of acrobats, a Russian family doing a strength act, and one of Cirque du Minuit's singers. It was circus life. She had to be easy-going and flexible, and not get bent out of shape about living in the same house as him and a bunch of other strangers. It wasn't like her and Theo would be alone. Everyone shared the kitchen, although they all had private bathrooms, thank God.

Kelsey had done her last Cirque Tsilaosa performance the night before. There were so many people she would miss, people who were special to her because they were the first circus people she'd known.

And there was Jason.

He'd been distant and cordial with her ever since the meeting in Michel Lemaitre's office. He didn't even lecture her anymore about her sugar straws, although she'd been sucking them down like crazy due to stress. She knew her coach felt betrayed, left out of her plans. She'd tried to explain that Theo's move to create an act with her had been as much a surprise to her as to Jason, but he'd cut her off and told her it didn't matter now. Like she'd done some dire, irreversible thing.

Her relationship with Theo wasn't much better. The day after their adventure under the trees, Kelsey had gone to the Cirque clinic to go on the pill, imagining all the hours of unparalleled sensual pleasure she would share with him. But Theo hadn't so much as called her since. He'd forwarded her one email from relocation, specifying the date and time the van would arrive to pick them up, along with their belongings.

Great. A ten-hour trip to spend lusting over him and getting nothing but cool disregard in return.

She heard a knock and hoped for one wild moment it might be Theo. But of course it wasn't. Her coach...well, former coach...stood on the doorstep of her apartment.

"I'll let you in," said Kelsey, "provided you won't continue to treat me like some rebellious teenager."

Jason looked apologetic. "Have I been doing that?"

"You're only eight years older than me, but you've been acting like my dad."

"I'm here today as your friend. I came to say goodbye. You're leaving tomorrow, right?"

Kelsey nodded, feeling a deep twinge of loss. This wasn't the time to be arguing with Jason. She was truly going to miss him. She let him in, then flopped on the couch and took a hard look at the man sitting beside her. He was so bright compared to Theo's darkness. So kind, in contrast to Theo's perpetual scorn. "I'll miss you," she blurted out. "I'm sorry if I pissed you off, making this choice. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know if this is the right thing to do, or--"

Jason put out a hand to halt her speech. "I don't want to be the person who made you doubt yourself. Look, Kels. I know you can do this. You can do any fucking thing you want because you're strong and you're smart. It's actually good to try your hand at a lot of things when you get into the Cirque."

"So..." Kelsey said. "It's only Theo you disapprove of."

Jason looked down at his lap and thought for a moment. "Okay, listen. I'm just going to come out and say this. There are things that go on inside the Cirque you have no idea about. And you don't..." He looked up at Kelsey in entreaty. "You don't have to get involved in them. A lot of people don't, and go on to have perfectly successful careers."

Kelsey was confused. "What are you talking about? What kind of 'things?'"

"Parties, private events." He swallowed and looked her square in the face. "Wild sex stuff. There are clubs the performers go to in the various towns. They're all called le Citadel. There's one here, there's one in Vegas, there's one in New York and L.A., there's one in Moscow and Bucharest. There's already one in Marseille, open and active."

"Does Mr. Lemaitre know about all these sex clubs?"

"Kelsey, they're his clubs. He's the proponent of all this. He chooses performers who attract him, or performers he senses will be open to it…"

Kelsey thought about the funny feeling she'd gotten at the meeting, when Lemaitre seemed to be sizing her up somehow. Maybe he hadn't been sizing her up as a performer. Maybe he'd been sizing her up for this. She didn't know if that flattered or disturbed her. "I always thought there was something freaky about him."

"Something freaky?" repeated Jason. "I'll put it this way. Michel Lemaitre will stick his dick in anything that moves. You wouldn't believe what goes on at the parties and club nights."

"And Theo goes?"

Jason seemed to consider his words for a moment. "Theo comes very close to being Lemaitre's right hand man. There's a reason Michel is sending him to Marseille, above and beyond you and the act. Some of Lemaitre's favorite...pets...are slated to be in the new show."

Kelsey let all of it sink in. It was upsetting, but beyond that...there was the shock. "He... Theo... What do you mean, right hand man? Does he have sex with Lemaitre's pets?"

Jason snorted. "Your Theo is another one who will fuck anything that moves, as long as it's female. However, no one touches Lemaitre's pets, not sexually. Not unless they're invited to."

Kelsey went hot and cold. Theo is another one who will fuck anything that moves. She'd had unprotected sex with him less than a week ago. She could never have revealed that to Jason, but a hot flush of panic rose in her cheeks. God, she could have any disease now. Why had she trusted him? Why had she assumed he wouldn't lie? It was hard to keep her facial features composed, and her throat felt really tight.

"So...but... These 'pets' you're talking about. They're people, right? Not...real animals?"

Jason's somber face finally cracked into a small smile. "Yeah, they're people. Lemaitre's a pervert, but he doesn't swing quite that wide on the perversion scale. Lemaitre's current favored pets are a pair of handsome acrobats from St. Petersburg. White blond like yourself." Jason reached out and handled a dangling lock of her hair. "There are others, of course, always. Men and women. All ages, all types. Whoever catches his fancy and is willing to submit to his whims."

Submit to his whims. She thought of Theo choking her, subduing her, locking her hands in the silks. "So all this...this activity that goes on at these Citadels, it's dominance and submission stuff?"

Jason's eyes widened slightly. "You know about D/s?"

Her blush, by now, had probably deepened to epic proportions. "I know a little. Yeah."

"From Theo? He said he hadn't taken you to the Citadel."

"You talked to Theo?"

"A couple days ago," Jason said. "I didn't mean to invade your privacy. But I wanted to tell him to protect you from all the Citadel stuff. I thought you were too straight and innocent. But you and him...?"

The moment was excruciating. Kelsey didn't know how to explain any of it, but another part of her realized Jason already knew.

"I don't trust him," she said. She felt ashamed, gullible. "Believe me, I'm going to protect myself."

"He's stronger than you," Jason said bluntly. "You think you can protect yourself, but you can't. He's a master of manipulation. From what I gather, you're already along for the ride." He took her hand in an impulsive grasp. "You can still say no to all this. I'll stand by you if you want to extricate yourself from the situation. You can stay here, stay and replace Marisol. Continue with the acrobat act."

"The thing is..." Kelsey curled her hand uncomfortably in his. The thing is, it's too late to save me. The thing is, I want to go to the Citadel and see what that's all about.

The thing is, I want to submit to Theo.

I already have.

Kelsey cleared her throat. "The thing is, I really feel like I want this challenge right now. I mean, it's not like..."

She was going to say, "It's not like this will kill me," and then she thought of Minya, and her heart thumped hard in her chest. But that was only an accident. A trapeze accident that could have happened to anyone.

Kelsey looked at her coach, at his earnest blue eyes, and wondered just how much safety she was leaving behind. He seemed to relent then, accept that he would not be able to change her choice.

"Okay, Kelsey. I just wanted you to understand. Forewarned is forearmed."

When he stood abruptly to go, she stopped him. "How do you know about all this?"

She saw a cloak of dissemblance fall over his face. He wasn't going to tell her the truth. "I'm one of the coaches here. It's my job to know."

"You go to the Citadel." She could see it in his expression. "Were you one of Lemaitre's pets once? Are you now?"

Jason's face twisted into a tight smile. "Hardly. You've got me on the wrong team."

Kelsey felt a spark of irritation. "So you came to warn me off something--someone--who's just like you?"

Her irritation was answered by Jason's own pique. "Oh, no. Never say he's like me. I would have protected you at the Citadel. He won't. If you take one thing away from our conversation today, let it be this: Theo Zamora only looks out for one person--himself."

Kelsey saw her coach in a whole new light. Yes, she saw the same dominance, the same capability she saw in Theo, only in Jason it was tightly leashed. But what if she'd known? What if he'd known? "Would you have wanted to look out for me at the Citadel?" She asked it even though it had her flushing hot again.

Jason turned toward the door, blowing out his breath. "It's a little late for that now. But no, I try to avoid getting entangled with performers I'm supposed to be helping. Too much potential for disaster."

With those words, Jason turned back and clasped her close. His hair brushed across her cheek. "I can't look out for you as well in Marseille. But I'm always here, a phone call away. Be careful, Kelsey."

With those heartfelt words, Jason Beck walked out her door.

Chapter Six: Marseille

Theo came banging on her door at eight in the morning.

He and the hirsute, silent driver helped her carry her four boxes and three suitcases down the stairs to the trunk of the Cirque-owned passenger van. She couldn't help noticing Theo had packed much less than her. One big suitcase and some books thrown in a wicker basket. When she looked at him, he shrugged.

"What about all the stuff at your house? Your furniture? Your car?" she asked.

"If I need it I'll send for it. And the car belongs to the Cirque." Again, the careless shrug. He winced a little and rubbed his shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. All trapeze artists have bad shoulders. Maybe you can massage it while we're on the road."

Fat fucking chance, Kelsey thought to herself. She'd been up for hours the night before obsessing over Jason's disturbing revelations, especially concerning Theo's sex-capades. Well, they would have a good long time to hash things out. Theo would be stuck with her for the entire drive. She would demand answers while he couldn't walk away or try to distract her with more sex.

The van seemed large after zooming around in compact European vehicles. Kelsey expected Theo to sit up front with the driver, but he surprised her by sliding onto the second row bench beside her. She scooted over and he just kept coming, dominating her space. She ended up sitting against the window while he sprawled his large frame across the center and right side seats. He seemed tired, but she knew he wasn't much of a morning person. He immediately tilted his head against a headrest and by the time they got on the road, he had drifted to sleep.

So much for hashing things out. Kelsey watched him, wondering again how he'd gone from a distant idol to this all-too-real man beside her. He was far from a graceful sleeper. Well, who slept gracefully in a car? Theo's head bobbed with the movement of the van, his lips sensual even in sleep. Then he'd jerk and she'd expect him to come awake, but he'd settle into sleep again. The driver ignored her, singing along from time to time with the radio.

Finally, after a couple hours, Theo stirred and looked out the window. "I need a cigarette."

"You need to quit," Kelsey said. "Cigarettes are nasty."

"Nasty and wonderful." He leered at her. "Like you."

Kelsey figured there was only one thing to do, and that was to dive right into the discussion.

"Jason came to talk to me last night."

"I'm going to jump out of the car," Theo murmured.

"You lied to me about Minya being your only sex partner. At least according to him. In fact, he told me a lot of really interesting facts about you."

"Pardon me," Theo interrupted, "but Jason doesn't know me and I don't know him. So I would take his 'facts' with a grain of sand."

"Salt."

"Huh?"

"The expression is to take things with a 'grain of salt.'"

Theo rolled his eyes and slouched lower in his seat. His leg made a triangle, resting on his knee. He stroked his sculpted, hairy calf. "Here is what I have to say to you, Kelsey. In most things, Jason doesn't know what he's talking about. Don't be so trusting."

"Yeah, I'm learning that. How many women were you with besides Minya? Were you with men too?"

Theo barely reacted to her anger. "I had unprotected sex only with Minya. Other women, I used condoms. This is what I thought you meant."

"You know that wasn't what I meant!"

"But the outcome is the same. I keep my body clean. I have no diseases. I know this because I am tested regularly. And my partners have been limited, despite what Jason believes. Cirque is a closed world."

"You only sleep with Cirque people?"

"Does that make it better in your eyes?" he asked, sounding completely unconcerned about her answer. "I sleep with Cirque people because they...they understand. You will be the same when you've been here a few years."

"After I go to the Citadel, right?"

The edge of Theo's lips turned up. "Ah, Jason told you about le Citadel, did he? Good. Saves me the trouble."

"Were you planning to take me?"

He gave her a demon smile. "You want to go."

Kelsey hated his smugness, his attitude, but he was right. She wanted to hear that he'd considered her a candidate for inclusion into this secret world. That she was as good, as sexy as everyone else. Even in this, she wanted to excel.

"Fine," she admitted. "It's possible I want to go. But I'm not going to feel safe about any of this if you're going to tell me lies--"

His sharp bark of laughter cut off her words. "Safe? You want to feel safe? You are in the wrong business, sweetheart. There is nothing here worth having that does not come with risk."

Kelsey didn't know if he was talking about the circus or about them when he said "here." For Kelsey, "here" was the two of them, his strong legs and solid form beside her. "Here" was the irrepressible urge to touch him, to have him look on her, whether it was with approval or contempt.

Kelsey lowered her voice. "How often do you go there? To the Citadel?"

Theo followed her glance to the driver in the rearview mirror. "No need to whisper. He goes. All Cirque people go eventually. And le Citadel is such that nearly all will continue to go."

Kelsey regarded the gruff, muscular driver. "Does he play on the dominant or submissive side?"

Again the wicked smile. "He is a switch." Theo leaned over, turning so he was in front of her, facing her. "I'll take you au Citadel, little girl. Don't fear. They will love you there. You are delicious in ways you can't even fathom. Yet."

She sucked in a breath as Theo's warm hand insinuated itself beneath the waistband of her pants. Instinctively, she grasped his wrist, shooting a panicked look at the driver. "He can see us in the rearview mirror."

"Maybe so, chickadee. This is not safe, eh?"

Kelsey shook her head as Theo slid his fingers deeper, into the furrow between her legs. His thumb pressed her clit while his fingers discovered her wetness. She was so aroused, from nothing more than his nearness and his voice. She wanted to arch into his hand, but the driver-- "N--no, Theo. Not now."

His hands never stopped their sweet torture while he kissed her lips. "Shhh..." he said in a sibilant whisper. "Let's not be safe. It's more fun to not be safe, no?"

"Theo..." No...no, it's not more fun to not be safe...right? Too many no's, too many not's all wrapped up in her thoughts, while her body was saying only one thing, over and over--yes, yes, yes. She'd lived by the "responsible and safe" mantra all her life, but that didn't seem so important now, with her pussy throbbing and his fingers slipping over and around her clit. His other hand clutched her thigh, holding her still, not letting her pull away or escape his intimate transgressions.

"Theo--" She tried one last time, finding it increasingly hard to form words. "We're on a road. An interstate. Someone will see. The driver--"

"Don't be safe," he chided, just before he forced her mouth open with his lips, his tongue. He demanded her submission, not only with his fingers, but his kiss. She put her hands on his chest to push him away but only found herself pulling him closer. She traced the taut tendons of his neck, the softness of his ebony hair. He wasn't going to stop. He was going to make her come right there in the van with the driver up in front. Kelsey's gaze locked on the rearview mirror.

"Close your eyes," Theo whispered.

I can't. I can't.

"Forget about him." His voice was like silk, like white billowing fabric wrapping around her and obscuring her vision, her thoughts. His fingers were driving her mad, gently touching, stroking in just the right spots. She tried not to think about how he'd gotten so good at knowing exactly how to touch in order to make her thighs clench and her pussy throb with need. She leaned forward, resting her head on his chest, and he supported her, still teasing...stroking...

"Oh, God..." She opened her lips against his skin, feeling the pulse of his heart in the same rhythm as his fingers, driving, penetrating her. Billowing pleasure.

He hit a spot, her spot, and she grabbed his arm with a gasp. He took the peaking pleasure in her center and drew it out, fanned it with his fingertips into an impulse so great she couldn't stop it anymore. She gripped his arm tighter and tighter, feeling rough hair and the curve of his bicep. His fingers dipped into her sheath as she ground against his palm.

Forget the driver. Forget the motorists outside. Her orgasm released and rolled over her body so hard she felt it in her breasts, her quivering shoulders, her throat as she gasped for air. Her pussy clamped down on his fingers, undulating in the aftermath, milking the furtive climax until the very end. She went limp against the bench seat, then risked a glance at Theo's eyes.

They were smoldering with lust, and something more. Some challenge or daring that continued to compel her.

"See..." He held his fingers just below her nose, tracing her scent across her lips, then licked them off with a satisfied hum. "Delicious."

The driver drove on, oblivious, or at least pretending not to notice. Help me, Kelsey thought.

It was still seven more hours to Marseille.

* * * * *

By the time they arrived in the evening, Theo was starving. Not for food. For her.

He shied away from using her name, because even that held too much power for him. If she hadn't been so oblivious to her effect on him, it wouldn't have grated on his nerves so much. He wanted to drag her into the first room they could find in the new-old city house they would call home, but instead there was the maddening delay of unloading their things and stacking them in the hall. She clucked over his shoulder, a blow to his ego. He'd only told her it ached in hopes of getting her to touch him earlier in the van.

Kelsey...

Now they had to take valuable time to meet with the matriarch of the Russian strong-act family, the self-elected landlady of the house. Theo and the brusque, muscular woman were obliged to speak in a mish-mash of French and Russian to understand one another. Theo had hoped for some misunderstanding to land him and Kelsey in a room together. Sorry, but there is only one very small bed you two will have to share...

Alas, there were two private suites and they were across the length of the house from one another. Theo was given the larger one over the Russian family's suite of rooms, while Kelsey got a smaller room down the hall beside the rooms of two male acrobats. With any luck, they were both gay.

Finally, with keys in their possession, Theo took Kelsey's hand. "I need to see you privately. Right now."

But Kelsey was ever practical and dutiful. "We should take our things up first. We can't leave them here cluttering the front hallway."

Theo looked down at their small pile of belongings. The cloying floral wallpaper and scraped linoleum of the foyer mocked him. Want her, do you? Not until she says so... "No one will bother them." He tried not to sound as desperate as he felt, but she already had one of her suitcases in hand. With an inward groan, he leaned to pick up a box and pile it on another one. Her admonition of "Watch your shoulder!" was met with an irate growl.

They climbed the carpeted stairs, Kelsey chattering on about the antique charm of the home or some such nonsense while Theo strained to ogle her ass from behind the boxes he carried. They were halfway down the hall when one of the acrobats' doors opened, and a short, solid blue-eyed cherub of a man-boy looked out at them. That kind of muscle definition? The highlights in his gel-stiffened hair? Definitely gay.

But then the cherub's eyes roamed over Kelsey and lit up with a sexual appraisal Theo recognized all too well. "Kelsey Martin," the acrobat exclaimed, open-mouthed. "Hot damn, it can't be."

"Wayne?" Kelsey shrieked. Jesus Christ, she was throwing her arms around the man's neck. "I can't believe this. I can't believe it! I haven't seen you in so long!"

The hug lasted way too long, and this Wayne character held her way too tight against his rock hard frame. How could he actually tumble with that kind of bulk? Theo regarded him with disdain, thinking about how low Lemaitre's standards had dropped in recent years. The acrobat's smile was sickeningly smarmy when he pulled away.

"Are you here with the Cirque? I had no idea you'd moved into performing."

"Yeah," Kelsey said. "I'm pretty new, but I love it so far."

"I've been with the company a couple years now. Started out in Brillante in Vegas and recently transferred here for the new show."

"I started out in Tsilaosa," Kelsey said. "I just got the nod to come here this week."

Wayne ogled Kelsey again in open flirtation. "You always did follow me around."

Theo was going to gag. He gave Kelsey a dire look. Unruffled, she introduced the two of them with a huge smile. "Wayne, this is Theo Zamora, my new partner. We're going to do an aerial act. Theo, this is Wayne Dalton. We trained together for years in Laguna Hills. That's in California," she added.

Theo scowled. "I'm not an idiot. I know Laguna Hills is in California."

"Theo is French," she said to Wayne. "He's from...somewhere in France. He's kind of secretive sometimes. And grouchy," she added pointedly as his scowl deepened.

The man-boy slid him a look and said something to Kelsey under his breath that made her chuckle.

Oh, hell no. It was on.

"Kelsey, you want me to put these in your room or mine?" Theo asked, indicating her boxes and bags.

She looked at him like he'd taken leave of his senses. "My room, Theo. Thanks." She turned back to Wayne. "Sorry, we just got here. Our stuff is all still down in the front hall."

"I'll help you," Wayne offered, his tone so ingratiating that Theo's hackles rose.

He waved Wayne off. "I think I can manage a few boxes."

"But your shoulder--"

Theo silenced Kelsey with a look. "My shoulder is absolutely fine."

"Are you in this room?" Wayne asked, indicating the room right next to his. Kelsey beamed.

"Yeah. So weird. I can't believe after all these years we're going to be living next door to each other. Literally."

After all these years. How much history did these two share? Wayne Dalton was clearly older than Kelsey, and Kelsey was treating him like a revered big brother rather than an ex-lover. But Theo caught the predatory vibes that Kelsey was too guileless--or too trusting--to notice. Wayne might be playing the harmless friend, but he wasn't harmless. Or even, Theo intuited, a friend.

Kelsey followed after Wayne, chattering away in a California-girl style of speech she didn't use with him. Wayne lifted her other two boxes and a suitcase. Fucking show off. Theo took the last suitcase, squelching the urge to trip Wayne on the way back up.

This would never do. Theo would have to live in another house. He couldn't bear watching from a front row seat as Wayne tried to bed Kelsey for the next few months. Or weeks. Or days. Maybe Kelsey would sleep with him later tonight, liberated by Theo's debauching of her. No. No.

There was no fucking way he was giving Kelsey up to this cocksure buffoon, with his stupid blond highlights and over-bulked looks. Theo despised him already for his falseness, pretending to be a friend to Kelsey when he just wanted-- When he just wanted--

When he just wanted what Theo wanted.

Ugh. Theo dumped Kelsey's suitcase in her room with the other things and left the two old friends to talk. He didn't think Wayne would put the moves on her so soon. No, Wayne would continue to play the old pal, reminisce, help her unpack like he was her friend.

Theo would settle in and let Wayne have his time with her. He needed a cigarette anyway. Later, tonight, it would be Theo's turn.

* * * * *

Kelsey looked around her cozy little room. She loved it. The walls were papered in a weathered toile print that seemed so uniquely French. Two large windows were hung with light-blocking curtains so she could throw them open for sunlight, or draw them closed if she wanted to sleep. Her bed was small but comfortable, sized just right for the space. The adjoining bathroom was even smaller but it had its own charm, with the narrow shower stall and porcelain pedestal sink. A small mirror hung over it from a wide silk ribbon.

The whole house was so charmingly French. Wayne had showed her around, from the extremely clean kitchen to the walled garden to the common room where the housemates got together now and again to play cards or watch movies. Apparently the Russians kept to themselves most of the time, but Wayne had struck up a friendship with the other acrobat in their hall, Manuel from Argentina, and the effusive Australian singer Clark who lived over on Theo's side. Clark apparently could out-drink everyone in the house, even the four-hundred-pound Russian strongman. Kelsey was curious to meet them all.

But the most wonderful surprise of the day was seeing Wayne Dalton again. She'd had a pre-teen crush on him ages ago, when she was still struggling to make a name for herself and he was already prepping for the Olympics. He'd won two medals in his career while she'd never managed to make it past alternate. But that was old news. Now they were both Cirque performers, and she'd found a friend who reminded her of home even more than Jason. They'd reminisced about their old coaches and their Olympic experiences, and about their ambitions now that they were in the Cirque.

Kelsey had been so excited about Wayne, Theo had completely slipped her mind.

Theo, with the roving fingers. Theo with the lewd whispers in her ear as they barreled down the autoroute. She wanted to go see him. She could fool herself and say she just wanted to check out his room and see if he was settled in. But in reality, she wanted to go see him for a completely different reason…

It was late though. Kelsey decided a cold shower was a better course of action. She turned on the water and was relieved to find the pressure good even if the shower was accompanied by a persistent squeal. It took forever for the water to warm up, so she did take a bit of a cold shower before the warm and then hot water arrived to soothe and relax her. She stayed in a long time, until her fingers started to prune.

Afterward Kelsey primped in the mirror, and perfumed and stroked her skin, massaging oil into her hands and elbows. She was starting to develop longer, leaner muscles already, rather than her gymnast bulk. She knew she owed that to Jason, and to a lesser extent, to poor Minya, who had inspired Kelsey with her sylph-like physique. Kelsey knew she could do anything she wanted with her body. It was just the mental part of performing that was still a challenge to her.

She hung up her towel and went back out into her room, thinking about what she and Theo's act would be like when it was finished, when they were performing it in the show--

Kelsey sensed movement behind her. Before she could summon a scream, a firm hand clamped over her mouth. Her throat closed in terror at the pressure of another body behind her--a very hard male body with an erect cock pressing against her ass. In the time it took him to twist her arm behind her back and frogmarch her to the bed, she realized it was Theo. A little of the terror ebbed, but her heart was still beating a mile a minute. She struggled against him, as horny as she was angry.

He whispered in her ear. "Clean again, are you?"

She tried to turn and yell at him, but he grabbed a handful of her hair, holding her head down into the bedspread. At the same time he made a low, shushing sound that resonated in her ears and her pussy. She fell silent and still as he ran a hand up and down her back.

"It's okay, Kel-zeeee," he whispered. "It's okay. You want me, don't you? You want me?"

Kelsey nodded, a moan catching in her throat. All the effects of the cold shower were long gone, replaced by a raging need for his wanton, careless violence. "H--How did you get in?" she stammered.

"The door."

"The door was locked."

He chuckled, running a hand between her legs. He kneaded her pussy, poking his cock against her ass cheeks again. He was fumbling with something. A condom.

She waited for him to fuck her, but instead she was hauled up and pushed to the floor. He came down behind her, his arms over hers, pressing them to the cool hardwood on either side of her head.

"Don't move," he said in a low, menacing tone. "Not one inch." More fumbling, the sound of a cap opening. Kelsey shivered, trying to stay still. Cold, slick fingers prodded between the cleft of her ass. By the time she thought to move, to get away, his other hand was pressing her shoulders down.

"No," she said, not very forcefully. Not forcefully enough. He fingered her asshole, pressing slippery liquid inside. "No," she said again, but she didn't try to get away from him. As always, some part of her wanted this no matter how badly it terrified her. "Please," she said instead. "I'm scared. I haven't done this before."

"If you had," said Theo on a sigh, "I would have been disappointed."

If she hoped for gentleness then, for a patient tutorial on the finer points of anal sex, she was misguided in that hope. Theo shifted and his hand went to her arm, wrenching her shoulder back toward him so she had no leverage to move. At the same time, she felt the head of his cock against her tender entrance. He pressed it in a little. Holy fuck--it hurt even more than she feared.

She whined and shook her head. "No, stop, it hurts. You're hurting me!"

"Don't fight me. Let it happen."

"I can't!"

In all this time, she hadn't even looked at him. He was her faceless tormentor, her ruler who would take what he wanted whether she wanted it or not.

"I'm not letting you up," Theo growled. "Not until I fuck you."

"Fuck my pussy then," Kelsey begged.

"If I wanted your pussy, I'd be there right now." Kelsey could imagine his hard, sardonic expression, his willful glare. Again the head of his cock breached her, just a little. In, out, then in again, stretching and hurting her. His fingers dug into her arm.

"Submit to me, Kelsey. Submit."

She wanted to. She braced herself as he pressed in a little farther. Oh God, she was so scared. The pain was so sharp, so immediate in that vulnerable place. She stiffened and held still, because she felt if she moved, even a little, he might injure her. Tear her.

"Relax…"

It was one softly spoken word, but it triggered some unwinding inside her. Kelsey tried to obey. Tried to relax. Theo slid deeper, holding one hip in a vise-like grip. His guttural snarl of approval was like music to her ears. The pain eased, replaced with a provocative, frightening feeling. Theo was fucking her ass. Never, in a thousand years, would Kelsey have ever considered letting a guy do that to her. Never, ever would have agreed to it. But Theo had taken the choice away and just done it, and now she found herself plumbing depths of submission she couldn't have imagined a month or even a week ago.

The thought of it, her submission, her plight, brought a whine to her lips. It sounded more lustful than anything else--and it seemed to egg Theo on. He thrust deeper, filling her completely. Her whine rose to a cry.

"Yes, louder," he said in an amazingly controlled voice. "Cry and scream. Bring your friend running over here. I'm sure he'd love to see this."

Pressure built in her pussy at Theo's cool words, his evil disregard for her feelings. Yes, louder. Cry and scream. He wouldn't stop. She believed that, which was the only reason she felt as excited as she did. She began to struggle again just to feel him hold her down harder, more forcefully. She could imagine his intent expression, the curl of his lips. The idea of it had her burning. She wasn't going to come though, which sucked. She was still adjusting to the strange sensation of having a cock in her asshole. She wouldn't exactly call it pleasant.

But it wasn't unpleasant either.

Theo was moaning now, loudly. All Kelsey could think of was Wayne listening on the other side of the wall. How thin were the walls in this house anyway? Oh, God.

"Theo, be quiet," she begged, more to herself than to him, because she knew he wouldn't listen, that he would do exactly as he pleased. His moans rose in volume, almost to a shout. He fucked her hard, his hips pounding against her ass. "Oui, oui, oui," he yelled in the quiet room. He collapsed on top of her, driving her against the floor, his cock still deep in her asshole. She felt his fingers groping, searching. He found her clit and worked it, his tender touches in strange dissonance to his pounding thrusts in her ass. She arched her back and clenched her ass cheeks, suddenly finding herself close to orgasm after all.

"Oh...ohhh..." His touches were pure splendor, tingling and driving her lust. Now she was the one being too loud. She couldn't swallow the cries that erupted from her throat. He put his palm right around her neck, light pressure as she bucked her hips back against him. One more slippery grope through the honey of her arousal and the climax was there, right there. Sparks exploded behind her eyes, and the weight of Theo seemed not a burden, but just the natural way of things. He was her Master and she was the one who served him. Who did anything he wanted. Who enjoyed everything he did.

The orgasm went on and on, and the aftermath longer still. She felt filled, defiled, and was happy to just lie still and enjoy those feelings. He was still and quiet now too, his cock pulsing in her occasionally. His heat was a contrast to the cool wood beneath her belly and breasts. She felt him shift. He smoothed her hair from her nape and left behind a faint brush of lips.

"Ah, Kelsey," he said, in a voice that might have been regretful, or maybe just satisfied. She snuggled back against him, still trying to acclimate to the feel of him inside her, in that place she'd never wanted any guy to go.

"You scared me," she scolded in a soft voice. "I almost pissed myself."

"When you came out of your bathroom, or when I slathered your ass with lube?"

"Both times."

Theo chuckled. "I made you dirty again."

"I have a feeling you like me that way."

"Dirty girls are the best girls." He was quiet a moment. "Did you sleep with your golden boy yet?"

"Wayne?" Kelsey snorted. "What kind of a slut do you think I am?"

Theo bumped his hips against hers. "This might not be the best moment to ask me that."

How the hell was he still hard? "Point taken. So, are you eventually going to get it out of me?"

"I worked very hard to get it in there. I'll take it out when I want."

So Kelsey waited. And wondered. Jealous of Wayne, was he? Interesting. So the stony facade had a crack. She pondered that as his solid chest rose and fell against her back. At last, with a sigh, Theo slipped a hand between them and eased himself out. It gave Kelsey an uncomfortably empty feeling. When he stood to cross to the bathroom she felt the absence of his warmth. She heard the water turn on, and then his voice, a gruff command.

"Kelsey! Come."

Kelsey, come. Like some dog. It didn't matter. She would as soon have jumped out the window as refused to obey, the way she felt in that moment. They squeezed into the shower together, washing off the sweat and slippery lube, and the dust from the floor where he'd pressed her down. When they finished, Kelsey was afraid he'd leave her, walk out the door without a backward glance. But that wasn't his style.

Instead, he collapsed face down on her bed, still damp, then turned and held out his hand to her. "Come sleep. Come."

Come. She lay down, nestling against his side. He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss on her forehead. For a moment her throat went tight, like she might cry.

"Theo..." she started. How do you feel about me?

"Hush." He shook her a little, then ran a hand up her arm in a soothing movement. "No talk. Sleep."

Chapter Seven: The Act

"Come. Come. Come!"

It had sounded sexy the night before, but it sounded a lot different when Theo was barking it at her repeatedly from across the rehearsal floor.

"I'll come when I'm ready," she muttered under her breath. Theo flicked his hand at her in annoyance and strutted out of the cavernous space. Going for a cigarette. Nasty habit. She'd told him several times already he needed to quit.

Not that he ever listened to her.

She dug in her bag for some Licky Stix. She missed Jason chiding her, giving her dirty looks. There was no coach here, just Theo. He was in charge of the act, and, increasingly, frighteningly in charge of her. Now, in the daytime, with the lights reflecting off the bright blue mats and the sun shining through the window, she resented his control.

She couldn't understand why it felt so good--so hot--to submit to Theo's perverse demands when they were alone together. It was like she fell under some spell. Her cheeks burned in humiliation each time she remembered the events of the previous night. She felt like a whore, a slut. A freak.

She pounded four sugar straws in a row. While she was eating the last one he sauntered back in, glaring at her. She glared back as the candy disintegrated on her tongue. Red, her favorite flavor. Cherry or something.

"Come on," he ordered, pointing at the mat beside him. "Or I will come and get you and carry you here." Something in the way he said it convinced her it would be better to go to him under her own power. She took her time though, packing her bag back up and stowing it on the side of the practice facility. On the way over to Theo, one of the Chinese contortionists knocked into her, almost bowling her over.

"Excuse me!" she snapped at him.

He gave her a withering glare and walked on, going God knew where. There were a lot of other acts practicing in other rehearsal halls. She and Theo were assigned to the big hall because their act was high and wide. Unlike most aerial silk acts, which consisted of vertical wraps and drops, they were going to be swinging around too. Flying, Theo called it.

She'd asked to see video of someone else doing it. "No one else does it," Theo had said. "Not like this. You are with Cirque du Monde now. We don't copy what others do."

She walked over and tugged once or twice on the long dark red silks hanging from a massive carabiner in the ceiling.

"You think they'll come down?" Theo asked with a laugh.

"I think if I'm going to be 'flying' that high, I should have a safety line."

"No, I told you. The silk is your safety line. We'll do only safe tricks, you'll see. We'll practice down here over the mats until it's second nature, and then we'll do it up a little higher. For the actual show, we'll go very high. It's more dramatic that way. But it will be safe, no tether. Unless...you want to do the trick with teeth? I hold the silk loop in my teeth? You spin around and around?"

"Oh, Jesus. No."

"You need a safety tether for teeth trick. One cough or sneeze and zhut, that's the end of Kelsey."

"Not funny."

"You wanted a safety line." He shrugged.

"Forget the safety line," she said through gritted teeth.

He was already moving on, climbing halfway up one of the silks, about fifteen feet in the air. Kelsey studied the other tail, running her fingers over the smooth blood-red fabric. It felt even stronger, more substantial than the practice silks. "Why are they so dark?" she asked.

"Why?" Theo wound one ankle in the fabric, at the same time he propelled himself into a lazy swing. "It's not Cirque du Sun Shining out of your ass! It's Cirque du Minuit. This means midnight in French. Dark, eerie, bleak."

He swung by her, gazing down like some specter. "Foreboding," she added under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. Do you want me to come up?" At Theo's nod, Kelsey rosined her hands and started climbing the other silk. There were only a couple other acts practicing in areas nearer to the wall. Kelsey felt conspicuous and exposed out in the middle.

"No one's watching you," Theo said, rolling his eyes.

Kelsey scowled at him. "I didn't say anyone was."

"You are too self-aware. Already, the way you climb is too wooden and self-conscious. Go down and climb again. Climb like someone who is only alive, who is only truly satisfied in the caress of the silks. Forget who watches. Forget what you look like. Climb like someone who lives and breathes aerial silk."

"Jesus Christ." Kelsey slid down to the mat. She let out a sigh and started climbing again.

"No," Theo said. "Now you look angry. Try once more."

Kelsey crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared up at him. "Why don't you show me what you're looking for?"

"Gladly. But you already know." Theo slid down and then climbed up again. Yes, she had known--he was talking about that effortless animal grace he possessed that she'd mentally remarked on so many times. He wanted that from her? He stared down, beckoning her.

"Come, are you going to try? It will take time, but just try."

Kelsey lifted her chin and attempted to be as fluid and confident as Theo as she shimmied up the silk. "Sexier. Sexier!" he coached impatiently, but he didn't make her go back down. When they were side by side about ten feet off the ground, he kissed her. Kelsey pulled away.

"Theo!"

"They are not watching." He grinned at her. "The act will be better with chemistry. It's a good thing, yes?"

"You smell like cigarettes," said Kelsey, trying not to think about how chemistry was affecting her even now.

"Because I smoke."

"You shouldn't."

"Are you bitching at me to try to take my mind off last night?" He kissed her again, this time squeezing her ass. "Because I'll never forget. Never. In fact, I'm getting hard again."

"Last night was... Last night..." Kelsey stammered. "Last night was last night. This is today. We're supposed to be working. You're supposed to be teaching me this act."

Theo completely tuned out her reprimand and gave her a dirty, filthy kiss. Then, as she grasped for her wits, he launched into a surprisingly organized and detailed description of the beginning of the act as he'd imagined it so far. It started with a lot of climbs, wraps, and drops. The climbs were easy, and the wraps were getting easier too. It just took the right flip of the ankle, a twist of the arm, and she'd be secured in a few loops of fabric.

Theo made her get down and then showed her a move where he flipped again and again, wrapping his arms in silk. At the top, he did an inverted split and grinned down at her, his arms outstretched. Hmm. Flexible. Then, somehow, the silk was wrapped around his legs and waist, and he reached down to her and dropped so fast she screamed.

"No screaming in aerial silk," he said. "Take my hands."

His fingers closed tightly around hers. He ran her through some trapeze-like moves just above the mat, demanding that she flip, or twist, or swing while dangling from his grip. He swung her up behind him while he was still inverted, and barked for her to wrap her arms around his waist. She ended up with her chin resting on his balls.

"This is fucking awkward," she yelled down at him.

"Grab the silks and pull yourself up. Don't step on me. Graceful, graceful," he coached, like she hadn't just had her face buried in his crotch.

There was a lot of gymnastics involved, and that at least she felt comfortable with. Flips, splits, and somersaults were muscle memory to her, whether executed on the ground or in the air. It was actually kind of thrilling doing it in the air because there was less resistance, less impact. Even the silk wrapped around her arms and legs wasn't uncomfortable. Theo showed her how to distribute the fabric evenly so it didn't bind. Then Theo experimented, wrapping her up in various ways, showing her where to grip the silk so she wouldn't fall all the way to the mat when it unwound. And it did always unwind.

So many of the tricks would take precise choreographed timing between her and Theo. There was a lot of gripping, grappling, and cursing as Kelsey missed cues and directions. The morning flew by and when lunch time arrived, Kelsey realized she hadn't even thought about people watching her in hours.

She and Theo ate together in the Cirque cafeteria. Or rather, Kelsey ate her lunch sitting across the table from him while he talked to himself in a mixture of English and French about which elements to use in the act, which moves would be most exciting to watch, and which moves Kelsey would never be able to master if she didn't learn her ass from her elbow soon. Lovely.

While they ate, other cast members stopped by to introduce themselves and tell a little about their acts. Some of them seemed to know Theo already, perhaps from other shows. They all regarded him with subtle curiosity. No one said anything about Minya. Everyone was welcoming to Kelsey, a pleasant change from Theo's barked orders and crass flirting.

Through all of this, Kelsey couldn't shake an air of unreality. Was it really only yesterday he'd pushed her down and fucked her? No, Kelsey had to be real about it. He'd forced her. He'd held her down and fucked her ass and she'd been so shocked while it was happening that she hadn't stopped him. No, be real, Kelsey. She'd been so thrilled and turned on while it was happening that even now, she wanted him. Wanted him to do it again. Was it just hero worship, still? Or was she a total sicko?

After lunch, Theo took a smoke break, and then they returned to the practice space to start on the flying. Theo let her swing around like Tarzan for a while, which was super fun. It was like being on the playground, running and taking off. The fabric undulated beneath her, sweeping the floor, fluttering past Theo. He was spotting her in case she fell, although he'd never admit it. The higher she climbed and swung, the closer he watched her. He finally got impatient and grabbed the tail of her silk.

"Enough play," he barked. "Slide down."

"If you ask me nicely." She wrapped an ankle, and a wrist for good measure, because she knew he'd have no qualms about shaking her down.

"Theo!" The loud voice arrested them both. Michel Lemaitre walked across the mats, his arm extended to Theo. They shook hands and exchanged a few quick words in French. Then they both looked up at her, Lemaitre's face assessing, Theo's hard. She unwrapped her hand and ankle and slid down, trying to look as smooth and assured as Theo. Unfortunately, her hand slipped at the last second and she fell on her ass at the feet of the Cirque du Monde CEO. As a finishing touch, the crimson tail settled down over her, obscuring her face. She was obliged to fight her way out of it and stand up, her cheeks flaming.

"Mademoiselle Martin. What a joy to see you again."

"She is the picture of grace, no?" Theo sighed. Kelsey scowled at him.

"I was just playing around," she explained.

"Ah yes, getting the feel of the apparatus," said Lemaitre. "This is always the first step. To be fearless and creative, you must experiment. And yes, sometimes fall." Lemaitre clapped Theo on the shoulder. "Believe it or not, I've seen this one take a tumble or two."

Kelsey looked at Theo, expecting some denial or some other quip throwing her under the bus, but he only stared at her and then the floor. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he was uncomfortable. Jason had told her far more about Mr. Lemaitre than she ever cared to know, and she couldn't help thinking of it now. About his pets. About his clubs and all the activities that supposedly went on there. In the silence she realized both men were looking at her.

"Well," Lemaitre said. "I'll leave you to your work. I'll only be in town a few days, but I hope to see more of you, Miss Martin. And you." He gave a significant look at Theo. Theo nodded, his mask of bored nonchalance back in place. Lemaitre left, going to talk to some of the other artists. Kelsey fingered the edge of the silk, sliding a look at Theo.

"What was that all about?"

Theo shrugged. "He comes to Marseille often. He has a big house on the coast." He busied himself with the rosin bag, then threw it to her. "He's taken an interest in you. He'll be ruthless toward you if you don't live up to his expectations."

"I hear he makes his favorites into pets."

Theo was silent a moment, considering her. "You have to play along, Kelsey. But he won't make you his pet."

"How do you know?"

"Because I won't let him." That was all he said, but his eyes said more. They were dark and, for one thrilling moment, emotional. Then a muscle in his jaw ticked and he was in motion again, handing her a silk, taking his own. "Come, girl," he said. "Let's fly."

The flying was a lot more complicated than the wraps and drops. Theo explained how the momentum of their bodies had to be matched and timed perfectly to avoid looking sloppy. Worse, missed timing could result in a mid-air collision. They would have to practice again and again until their speed and arcs matched every time, or their tricks wouldn't work.

Kelsey found it difficult to sense the timing as well as Theo. He'd worked for years as a trapezist, after all, collaborating with a partner, but tumbling and gymnastics was a solo sport. They worked for an hour, and Kelsey felt she was doing worse, not better. Theo made her repeat movements again and again until she was dizzy, and still she was missing the mark.

"I don't get it," she said. "I don't understand how you do it. I can't!"

"You're thinking too hard. Let your body guide you. Use your sense of timing."

"That's just it, I don't have a sense of timing. In gymnastics the only timing involved is the time it takes to execute a movement perfectly."

"Fine. But you're not doing gymnastics now. There's a difference between being an artist and an athlete. All those years, you just did what your coach said. Now you need to feel for yourself. You're doing aerial silk, and timing is crucial in this routine." He gave her his patented derisive look. "If you would just try, and stop being so doubting and controlling. Just let me lead."

"I'm letting you lead! But I'm not getting anywhere and you're not helping me!" She was so frustrated, so tired of being the one who had to learn everything. She spread her arms. "Just help me, please. You keep telling me the same old platitudes."

"And you keep giving me the same old helpless act. I can't. I don't understand. There's nothing to understand. You know it here." He pounded on his heart. "And you are too much here"--he pointed to his head--"and here"--he pointed to his mouth. He made a beaky hand and mocked her. "Blah blah blah, instead of trying."

Kelsey rubbed her forehead. "You're a jerk and an asshole."

"And you are a shriek-mouthed little witch."

"Shriek-mouthed?" Kelsey protested. "What the hell kind of word is that? Who ever heard of 'shriek-mouthed?'"

"I heard of it, girl. I hear it every time you open your lips." He held onto his silk with one hand, kneading her shoulders with the other. He spoke to her in a kind voice, as if he hadn't just insulted her repeatedly. "Let go, Kels. Stop trying to manage everything. I lead, you follow. Like in the bedroom, yes? In the bedroom you are like...what is that phrase?" He looked up, searching, moving his hands.

"What?"

"Squeezy, squishy. I mold you. You're like--" He made aggressive squeezing motions with his fingers.

"Like putty in your hands?"

"Yes. Putty. This is what you are in the bedroom. But now you fight me. You don't trust me to teach you. You struggle to control everything. Why?"

Because you scare me. Because I want you. Because I don't want to disappoint you.

Kelsey took a deep breath and made fists at her sides, then let the air out again. "Okay, give me a second." She took a few more deep, rhythmic breaths to center herself, a strategy she'd used before she took the floor at gymnastics events. Before balance beam, especially, her most hated event. She'd had to learn to give up control then, to trust her body to guide itself. If she thought about the impossibility of doing tumbling and stunts on that narrow piece of wood, her mind gave up before she even started. If she let her body lead, and quieted her mind, she could do it easily.

She could do this too.

"Okay, let's try again." She beckoned to Theo. "I'm ready to try again."

The first time, the timing was still a struggle. The second time, she became more aware of the small ways she could move her body to affect her speed and arc. She met Theo a little closer to the mark. And closer.

"Good girl," he finally said, when she met him right on cue. He held out his hand and she grasped it. His smile was a rare reward. "You understand now."

She nodded, feeling ridiculously pleased. She had issues with approval, with doing things "right." She knew that. She still enjoyed the feeling of success, the feeling of making her partner happy.

"Okay, now," he said. "Let's fly higher." She started to climb and he climbed after her. He levered his body to get them swinging. They were maybe twenty-five feet off the ground, swinging and swirling. Kelsey laughed at the sheer joy of it. It was like being out in the woods again, swinging in the clearing from Theo's practice silks. He really was a good teacher. His methods might be unorthodox...and a little cruel...but she was learning, and it was fun.

"Now," he said, "I'll take your hand and I'll swing you. And then you swing back and catch the silk, yes? We'll practice."

Kelsey nodded shakily, bracing herself. She had to trust him. If she didn't trust him, all of this was pointless. They swung in an arc and met in the middle, and Theo reached to grasp her hand. "Now swing!"

Kelsey let go of the silk, feeling alarmingly heavy. What if he dropped her? They were twenty feet up. But the momentum of her body and the silks had her flying out in a graceful arabesque. Theo's grip never wavered. His hands were like iron. "Now back," he said, with no hint of effort in his voice. Emboldened, Kelsey reached for the silk and grabbed it, doing a quick ankle wrap to secure herself. Theo swung away from her, wrapping his own ankles so he could clap. "Beautiful," he said. "You looked beautiful flying. Again?"

Kelsey nodded, even more confident this time. Twice more, she clung to his hand and let go of the silk. The second time, he twisted and twirled and she spun around beneath him. "Oh, I'm getting dizzy," she laughed. She reached to the side for the silk but it wafted out of reach. Theo swung wider, still spinning her, chuckling too. He began to descend down the silk in a controlled slide. When she got close enough to the ground she opened her hand and dropped down, still laughing, landing in a crouch on the mat.

But then Theo was in her face, his eyes searing her with anger. "You never let go," he yelled. "You never let go."

It happened so fast. She was laughing one moment and holding her stinging cheek the next. My God, he'd fucking popped her. She looked around, tears burning in her eyes from the shock, but no one was paying attention to them. She looked back at Theo. He was blinking, white-faced. "You wait for me to let go, always," he said in a brusque voice. "That's how it works."

"You hit me."

"Because you let go. Stupid girl."

"I didn't know." Kelsey's voice wobbled. He'd slapped her on the face. She waited for the apology, but he was gone, stalking away from her, his shoulders stiff and his hands open at his sides.

* * * * *

"Mom?"

"Hi, hon. I'm at work right now. Is everything okay?"

Kelsey cradled the phone, resting her head back against the bed. Her mother's sweet, concerned voice was enough to bring the tears she'd fought until now. "I'm...I'm mostly okay."

"Oh, Kelsey."

"No, I really am. Don't worry, mom. This is just turning out to be a lot harder than I thought."

"The new job, huh? In Marseille?" Her mother said it "Mar-say." Kelsey repeated it in her head, trying to collect herself. Mar-say. Mar-say.

"I'll be fine," Kelsey said. "You know, I always get like this. Trying to be perfect. And failing."

"Yes, and you always achieve your goals in the end. You're so talented, honey. So strong. You listen to me. Put your feet up and have a cup of hot tea and do something to relax. Tomorrow will be a better day."

"I know. Don't worry about me."

"I'm not worried, not at all. I know you can do this. You've always been steady as steel."

But not now, Mom. I'm freaking out. She hadn't told her mother about Theo, or Minya, only that she was working on a new aerial act, working on the staging of a whole new show. And she wouldn't even know where to begin telling her about...the other stuff. She was pretty sure her mother still believed she was a virgin. In her mother's world, premarital sex didn't exist. Much less...

A guy hit me today, Mom. He's my partner. Oh yeah, and we're having sex. And it's not totally consensual all the time. Which I kind of enjoy.

Kelsey could hear the other nurses talking in the background. Her mother worked in the ER. It was a job she'd started so she could take Kelsey to gymnastics practices during the daytime and work at night. All that sacrifice. For this--this craziness that had become Kelsey's life. "I should let you go. Are you okay? How's daddy?"

"I'm fine, Dad's fine. We miss you, honey. We can't wait to come see your new show. You let us know when we can buy tickets."

"Don't buy any, I'll get you some for free. Whenever you guys are able to come over."

"We'll be so proud of you, honey. We are so proud of you. Call me tomorrow and let me know you're feeling better, okay?"

"Okay. I love you, mom."

"Love you too, sweetie. Talk to you soon."

Kelsey hung up and hugged her knees to her chest. She touched her cheek for the fiftieth time, even though the redness was long gone. It wasn't the first time he'd touched her in violence--but it had to be the last. The first time, when he'd put his hand on her throat and pinned her to the wall, she'd chalked it up to his grief over Minya. This time she didn't understand why the hell he'd flipped out.

She didn't understand a lot of things about him...just that she was attracted to him in a really uncomfortable and intense way. She didn't have any experience with abuse. She didn't know if she was a helpless victim or a knowing accomplice. Or if she was just plain old sick in the head. That's what her grandmother would have said about her relationship with Theo. That he was sick in the head, and that she was too, by association. Kelsey thought she could use a good talking to from her grandma right now.

She heard a knock at the door, and for a moment imagined it was her grandma come down from heaven for a frank chat. More likely it was Wayne. Kelsey skittered to the bathroom to be sure all the tears were wiped off her face. Jesus, she looked like hell. Wayne would know she'd been crying and then he'd want to comfort her. He'd ask in his kind, understanding voice what had upset her...

"Kel-zee...open up."

Theo. Of course he wouldn't be ashamed to show his face. He probably didn't even believe he'd done something wrong. Kelsey waited, not sure whether she should answer the door. His voice came again, and a sharp loud knock.

"Kelsey! Let me in." She unlocked the door before Theo roused the whole house. She swung it open and glared at him with her hands on her hips.

"Come by to slap me again?"

He stared back. "Can I come in?"

"That depends. Are you going to hit me, choke me, or force yourself into any of my orifices? Because I'm not in the mood tonight."

He studied her face, brushing a finger below one of her red eyes. "Did I make you cry? I didn't think I hit you that hard."

She started to shut the door on him, but he stopped her. "Please let me come in. I have to explain."

She let him in, but she didn't sit down, and neither did he. He looked at her with what almost passed for remorse.

"I--" He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "I was just so shocked when you let go."

"Yes, I was equally shocked when you slapped me," Kelsey said. "The mat was right there. It's not like I jumped from fifteen feet or anything."

Theo sighed. "It's a safety thing. You never let go. Your strength and my strength have to work together, especially when we have tricks to do. The release is planned. It's important. You see?"

"Yes, I'm not an idiot. You could have explained that to me without the violence."

His eyes burned her. "I can't lose another partner. Especially...especially not you."

Agonizing silence stretched between them, before Theo squared his shoulders and held out an oblong box in his hand. "So...I want you to have these."

She eyed the offering. "Thanks. But I don't smoke."

"I know. I'm quitting. Take these and get rid of them for me. I know I can say I'm sorry and maybe you'll forgive me, but it's not enough. I want to show you I'm really sorry for hitting you in anger, and so this is how. I won't smoke anymore."

Kelsey took the box. She had to pull it a little to get him to let go. "Are you...you're really sure about this?"

He nodded. "I need to quit anyway. Bad habit. As you say...the smell..."

"And your health," Kelsey added. "Your lungs. You want to be able to breathe when you get old."

He gave a low, bitter laugh. "I'll never get old. I don't plan to." He looked up at her, stroked her cheek again. "I am sorry, Kels. So sorry. I made you cry." For some reason, he sounded shocked by that. If Theo knew how many times she'd cried because of him already.

"I hate that you make me feel this way," Kelsey blurted.

"What way?"

"You know. All mixed up and unbalanced. You do it on purpose."

"I don't," Theo said, shaking his head. "I am just me. I'm sorry if it makes you feel...what did you say? Unbalanced?"

"Bullshit. 'I am just me'? What a cop out. You know what you do to me. You try to make me feel crazy. I think deep down inside you're happy you made me cry."

Theo looked at her a long time, not bothering to deny what they both knew was true. "I find tears very erotic," Theo finally said. "Especially when they come from such a strong person. But answer this, ma chère. Don't you enjoy it too? Being made to feel this way? A little scared? A little...threatened?"

Kelsey tightened her grip on the box of cigarettes at her side as he came closer. His arm slipped around her waist. He was freshly showered, and for once, didn't smell like smoke. He was actually going to quit smoking for her. "Theo..." she stammered.

"I think you enjoy it very much," he said, bowing his head close to hers. "I think you've had enough of safety and duty to last a whole lifetime."

"Unlike you, I don't plan to die young. I want to live a long time. Have children and grandchildren, and leave behind a legacy."

"You think I won't leave a legacy, girl?" His nose was almost touching hers. Their bodies were aligned, skin to skin. "You, at least, will remember me until you die."

Kelsey could barely breathe. He was doing it again, bespelling her, terrifying her with his power to control her, to turn her on. Even now, she felt an overwhelming attraction to him. Not just to his looks, or his body. It was more than that. It was a heated, tingling pulse in her pelvis, a tightening in her breasts, a craving for his domination.

"Yes, I'll remember you," she said, pushing him away. "I'm not sure how I feel about that. Anyway,"--she held up the cigarettes--"thanks for doing this. Even though I only give it, I don't know...about twelve hours before you give up and start smoking again."

"You're wrong," he said in a sharp, abrupt voice. "I never give up. Once I decide to do something, I don't look back."

For a weird moment, Kelsey wasn't sure if he was talking about the smoking--or about her.

"So," he said, in another abrupt mood change. "Put on something sexy. For a nightclub."

Kelsey blinked. "Wh--What?"

"You told me you wanted to go to the Citadel. Tonight, we go. We'll just check it out. We won't stay too late."

Kelsey had no idea what "staying too late" might lead to, or why Theo imagined she would just drop everything after a day like today and go to the Citadel with him. Theo scratched his head when she hesitated. "You don't have to come. But you will wonder until you know."

Which was true, damn it. "But why tonight?" Kelsey asked. "Why right now?"

"Because tonight Lemaitre will be there. Which means everyone will be there." Theo ran his eyes over her from head to toes and back again. "And you should be too."

Chapter Eight: Citadel

Theo sorted through her things until he found appropriately tight and sexy black clothing. A tissue top. A sweet short skirt with textured ruching. And of course, all gymnasts had leggings. He discovered she had ten pairs in black.

Once she was dressed, they set out together. The club was near the residences, undoubtedly by design. It was safer for the performers to stumble home on foot than to risk getting behind the wheel. Theo was in a black shirt too, and dark jeans. As usual, he dressed to exude a combination of sensuality and menace. He had to uphold his reputation. Some of the other performers passed them on the way, gawking. A tumbler he knew, and a couple of trainers holding hands. Lesbians. They looked at Theo and then Kelsey, perhaps gauging if they were a couple. Kelsey was new blood in this game. She just didn't realize it yet.

Silly girl. She traipsed down the sidewalk beside him, oblivious to the stares. "So what exactly goes on at this place?" she asked.

Theo studied her. Even dressed in tight, sexy black clothes, she screamed of fresh innocence. He shrugged. "The typical stuff that goes on at nightclubs. You've been to a nightclub before, haven't you?" At Kelsey's negative answer, he rolled his eyes. "Well, let's see. Vampirism. Cannibalism. Human sacrifice and necrophilia."

"Theo!"

He chuckled and took her hand. God, he took her hand. What was he doing? He squeezed it and let it go. "It's dark there. Loud music. Alcohol. Dancing. In some of the private rooms people make out and have sex. Now and again there are...play scenes."

"Play scenes of what?"

Theo didn't want to shock her, but she'd see it soon enough. "There are S&M scenes. Like you might see in a dungeon or fetish club."

"I've never been to a dungeon or fetish club," she said, sounding bleak. "I won't be expected to do any of this stuff, will I?"

"No."

"Will you do any of it?"

Theo took her hand again. "Would it bother you if I did?"

"You have done it, haven't you?"

Theo nodded. "Many times. Me and Minya..." He stopped. "Well. It's just another form of performance. Many find it a welcome release. Perhaps, one day, you will too."

She shook her head hard, and Theo stifled a smile. His strait-laced little vixen would deny it until the end of time, but he knew her desires. He'd felt her tremble under his fingers, her anxious, confused cravings like a drug to him in his jaded torpor. "Tonight..." He kissed her hand and let it go again. "Tonight we will only watch. Both of us. I won't leave you to the wolves."

Kelsey shivered at his side, even though the night was warm. "There will be wolves there?" she joked.

Theo chuckled. "At the Citadel, you never know." He stretched out his arms, feeling a twinge of craving he knew would grow as the night went on. He'd smoked three final cigarettes earlier in the evening, thinking of her. One for how he'd wronged her, one for how he'd hurt her. One for how he loved her.

Theo could have quit anytime. He was smoking less than he had in years, preoccupied with Kelsey and their new act. He'd already been down to half a pack a day. But to quit altogether seemed a good gesture of apology. She would find it impressive, important. And he really would quit. Those last three cigarettes would be his last three for life.

"Ugh," he growled. "It's a perfect night to smoke."

She looked up at him with an adorable expression of concern. Let her believe he suffered. It served his purposes.

"They have nicotine patches, you know. To help with quitting."

Theo waved her off. "Patches are for pussies. When I quit, I quit. I'll survive."

"You've quit before?" she asked with a tinge of accusation.

"No. I never had a reason to quit before. Never had an obnoxious American complaining about the way I smell, and telling me I'll die young."

Kelsey scoffed. "You'll live to be a hundred just to spite me, and I'll probably kick off at thirty-five."

Theo stopped outside the nondescript club entrance. A couple of bouncers patted down each arrival, thumbing the approved guests inside. Kelsey flinched as one of them groped over her shirt and ass. Theo couldn't fault the guy for feeling her up, but he gave him a look that warned him off trying a second time. They were admitted through the heavy steel door into a dark, cramped hallway. The music was so loud in the club the walls seemed to pulse. When they reached the end of the hall, Theo threw the door open and the music hit both of them like a physical wave. Kelsey fell back, but Theo pushed her forward.

"Here." He patted her shoulder to get her attention and handed her a pair of foam earplugs from his pocket. He showed her how to twist them and shove them down securely. If she was going to be an aerialist, she needed to protect her inner ears.

Even with the plugs in, the music was loud, the pounding beats resonating in his stomach, his hands, his balls. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and fabricated smog, and blinking spinning lights caught in the cast of ever-changing shadows. Kelsey sidled closer to him, her eyes wide, taking it all in.

The main area of the club was dominated by a bar that ran the length of the room. A few curtained booths and tables dotted the walls, filled with people drinking and yelling over the music.

There was a raised platform on the opposite side, full of writhing, jumping dancers. Beside the platform, a spiral staircase rose to a balcony, and behind the staircase, a hall led to private rooms that Theo knew were furnished with couches, suspension hooks, and dungeon equipment. He'd already scoped out this city's version of the Citadel. But tonight, Lemaitre would be here.

He wasn't here yet. The resonance wasn't right. People were too relaxed, too drunk. When Lemaitre arrived there would be more tension, more sensuality. More hedonism. Theo planned to have Kelsey good and tipsy by then.

He led her to the bar and urged her to get a drink. Like the residences and the cafeteria food, the drinks were covered. Theo ordered a beer and Kelsey did too. He suspected she just didn't know what else to order. He would bet his life she'd never been drunk in all her twenty-four years. She grimaced as she took her first swig. Strike that. He would bet his life she'd never even had a drink.

He downed his beer, then downed hers and took her to the bar for something sweeter. He had the bartender mix a powerful but tasty concoction they called Citadel Tea. Like Long Island Tea, only a lot more potent. Theo would only let her have one, but it would take the edge off her nervousness and help her have a little fun. She started to loosen up after just a few sips. He dragged her out onto the dance floor, and she smiled up at him, dancing, drinking.

People crowded in around them and he danced close with her, grinding on her, enjoying the feel of her tight, shapely body, all her muscles alive under his hands. The green, red, and blue lights played in the highlights of her blonde hair, reflecting with a strange brightness. Soon she'd drained her drink and hopped up on the platform without any urging from him. Still the driving, shrieking beats went on. This wasn't music for listening to. This was music for losing your mind.

Theo stayed down on the floor and watched, nursing a third beer. He couldn't drink any more, even if the nicotine urges were starting to hound him. He had to be sober enough to look after her.

Even now, he could see other men, other dominants he recognized, sizing her up. If she'd come with him, they would know her for what she was...a submissive female. And her alluring naïveté and vulnerability--well, that spoke for itself. Her anxious smile, her laughter, her awkwardness. It charmed and slaughtered him at the same time. She might as well have "gullible target" tattooed across her forehead. And because of that, he wouldn't get drunk.

Damn. Golden Boy was here. Wayne pushed past Theo to climb up on the platform. Kelsey greeted him, throwing her arms around him in a huge hug. They started to dance, caught up in the press of bodies. Theo watched a while, noting every one of Wayne's flirtations, every seductive touch.

A friend from one of Theo's previous shows clapped him on the shoulder and he turned, glad for the distraction. Let Wayne have his shot at Kelsey. Theo wasn't threatened by his wholesome California charm. He already knew that wasn't Kelsey's cup of tea.

Theo moved to a quieter corner to chat with Hovik, an Armenian best known for creating breathtaking balancing acts. As it turned out, Hovik had made the unusual move into dance. Dance acts weren't common, but Theo could see Lemaitre commissioning an especially erotic one for Cirque du Minuit. He became engrossed in Hovik's description of the developing act and his sexy Russian partner, Svetlana, who was apparently already in one of the private rooms. With a start, Theo realized he hadn't checked on Kelsey in ten or fifteen minutes. A scan of the platform told him she was gone.

He made some quick apologies to Hovik and frantically searched the room. Theo would kill Wayne if he'd taken her to one of the back rooms. He started for the hallway only to glance over and locate Kelsey's towhead at the bar. Jesus, she'd ordered another Citadel Tea, and had already downed a good part of it. It wasn't exactly the drink to use for thirst-quenching purposes.

When he reached her side, he took it away. "Slow down there. You weigh what? A hundred-ten soaking wet?"

"What does that matter?" Kelsey laughed, grabbing it back.

"Let me explain to you about metabolizing alcohol."

Wayne butted into their conversation, greeting Theo like they were old friends.

"Hey, guy. Settled into the house yet?"

Theo gave him a look meant to freeze. "Yeah, guy. I'm settling in okay. Thanks." Theo turned back to Kelsey to find her draining the rest of her potent cocktail. "Okay, enough," he said. "No more alcohol for a while." God, he'd wanted her buzzing, not passed out.

"It tastes good, Theo," she said brightly. "I've only tasted a few drinks here and there, but I never really liked them. This tastes kind of like..." She sucked on one of the ice cubes. "Party punch."

Oh my God. Party punch. He'd brought a woman with the social age of twelve to the Citadel. He deserved everything he got.

"Let's go sit down a while," he said. "Let that drink settle."

They went over to one of the tables. Theo sat in a deep chair and Kelsey collapsed on top of him, curling up like a kitten. She blatantly rubbed her ass against his crotch. Oh great, she was one of those drunk girls. He needed a fucking cigarette. He let himself get hard, ground against her as he watched the dancers. After a few minutes, Kelsey turned in his lap until she was straddling him. Out of the corner of his eye, Theo saw Wayne watching them. Theo put a hand on the back of Kelsey's neck and kissed her. A real fervent, hot kiss. The other hand slid down to her ass, guiding her erotic movements. Silly little drunk girl. She wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow.

Theo didn't care. He kissed her, on and on, and thrust a hand up her shirt to squeeze her breasts. She was so lovely, so delicious. He lost himself in her, feeling drunk even though he wasn't. Then he became aware of a stillness in the deafeningly loud room. Lemaitre had arrived.

When Theo broke the kiss to scan the room, Kelsey turned too. Lemaitre was in fetish gear--a latex shirt and leather chaps. He had his two striking male pets on a leash at his feet. Already, clothes were coming off. The frenetic dancing of moments before turned into a more sinuous slide of movement. Lemaitre scanned his domain, his staff, his performers.

"Look who's here," Kelsey marveled. "Wow, he looks incredible."

He did. Woman or man, gay or straight, you would have to be blind not to admire him. A bartender approached him with a drink on a tray, a wicked beer shot Lemaitre preferred called an Irish Car Bomb.

Without warning, Kelsey was on her feet and reeling Lemaitre's way. Theo watched in horror as she almost tripped over one of his pets. The blond stud shot her an aggrieved look, but Lemaitre greeted her with a smile as she stumbled into his arms. Lemaitre righted her and they exchanged a few words while the music pounded on and Theo's heart galloped in his chest.

Well, he'd told her she'd have to make an impression on Lemaitre. She was making an impression all right. Theo was debating whether to go rescue her and call even more attention to her when Lemaitre dropped the shot in his Car Bomb and offered it to her.

"Kelsey, no!" Theo stalked over but it was too late. At Lemaitre's urging she was pounding the drink. Thank God she only got halfway through before the disgusting taste registered with her. Theo glared at Lemaitre as he took Kelsey's arm.

"I see you have brought out your new ingenue for our pleasure," Lemaitre said to him in French with a true smile. "She is delightful."

"She is drunk," Theo corrected over the pounding music. "But she seems to have taken to le Citadel."

"They all take to le Citadel," Lemaitre mused. Kelsey still stared at him in drunken wonder. "You will have to bring her back again another night. Bring her into the back room. Have you trained her at all?"

Theo frowned. "Not precisely. We're easing into it."

"She is a handful, no?" Now Kelsey was patting one of Lemaitre's blond toys on the head as if they were really pets. A curious crowd gathered around them. Theo glared at Kelsey, willing her to stop. No one touched Lemaitre's pets, ever. At least not until now. Oh, God, now she was scratching the other guy behind the ears.

"Eh bien, Theo. Go enjoy your little girl. Next time, perhaps, do not let her drink so much." With a comic raise of his eyebrows, Lemaitre nudged Kelsey away from his charges and proceeded past them on the way to his own private space. Theo yanked Kelsey over by the wall.

"You are so drunk." He shook his head at her when she tried to snake her hands around his neck. "And that Bomb you pounded isn't going to sit well with the cocktails you drank earlier."

Kelsey rolled her eyes. "Again, you should have told me this. You never tell me anyshing-- any--" She stumbled over the word. "Anything I really need to know."

"Bravo," Theo yelled over the music. "Finally, my English is better than yours. Here's what you need to know. You don't mix beer and spirits. You don't pet Lemaitre's boys. And you're lucky the only thing he asked of you was to share his drink."

"It tassted nasssty," slurred Kelsey. "And it's not really sitting right with me."

She gripped her stomach and Theo steered her toward the bathrooms. He barreled into the men's room with her since the line was shorter, and since gender was never a big sticking point at the Cirque. The revelers within took one look at Kelsey's green face and gave up the next stall. Kelsey looked at Theo with pleading eyes. "I feel really, really sick."

"I know," he said. "I'll hold your hair for you."

"I can't be sick in front of you." She shook her head. "Please--leave--" That was all she could get out before her body took over. He couldn't even hear the sound of her being sick over the blare of the music. But she was definitely sick. Really sick.

Poor thing.

* * * * *

The first thing Kelsey thought when she woke up was, This is not my bed. This is not my room.

The second thing she thought was, Oh God, please let me die.

Her head ached so bad--a throbbing, knifing pain in her brain. Her mouth felt too dry to swallow. Everything hurt, even her skin. She saw a dark blur in the dim room and then Theo was there, leaning over the bed, brushing her hair back from her face. It was a gentle touch but it still hurt. "Ouch," she said, but it came out a dry, shapeless rasp. "Theo…"

He shushed her and shoved a glass against her lips. She pushed it away in a panic. "No more. No."

"It's just water."

She managed a sip or two before the tremors overcame her. She was so cold. Theo tucked the blankets closer around her and the softness of the sheets and the warmth almost made her cry. "Thank you," she whispered.

Theo slid into the bed beside her. More soothing warmth, and a solid wall to rest against. She wanted to sleep but her head hurt too much. "I'm never drinking again."

Theo chuckled in her ear. "Everyone says that. Every hungover person in the history of the world. You'll feel better in a while."

"Why aren't you hung over?"

"Because I didn't drink half my weight in alcohol last night, and because I have a higher tolerance than you. A hummingbird has a higher tolerance than you," he added as a final dig.

Kelsey moaned softly, setting off a series of fireworks behind her eyelids. "Why did you let me drink so much?"

Theo didn't answer, just muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "shriek-mouthed witch."

Kelsey tried to sit up, ignoring the sudden lurch in her stomach. "What time is it? Don't we have practice today? We'll get in trouble."

Theo pulled her back down. "There's no way you're climbing any silks today. We'll go in later and do a workout if you're feeling guilty. But I doubt Lemaitre will expect to find you training today."

Kelsey got a sinking feeling from the tone in his voice. "Oh, God. Lemaitre was there last night?"

"Don't you remember anything? Anything at all?"

Kelsey rubbed her forehead as Theo offered her more water. She took a tentative sip. The throb in her head was downshifting, but her anxiety was on the rise. "I-- I remember loud music. And dancing. And I think...Wayne was there. Oh, God, did I say something to Wayne?"

Theo frowned. "I can't really speak to that, but I can tell you that you definitely said something to Lemaitre. In addition to molesting his pets."

Kelsey squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. "No. No, I didn't."

"I'm afraid you did. Fortunately, your antics seemed to amuse rather than anger him. I can't really say the same for the pets."

Kelsey covered her eyes. "I'm so embarrassed. Who all saw this?"

"The entire cast and crew of Cirque du Minuit."

"Fuck," Kelsey said, then clutched her head. "Damn. Oh, crap, and I'm supposed to call my mother to tell her I'm feeling better. And I have to take my birth control pill before it gets too late. Can you get me my purse?" She burst into sudden, irrational tears. "Oh God, I'm hung over. And I'm in bed with a guy like you, and I have to take a birth control pill and--and--" She sobbed, holding her aching brain. "And I have to call my mooommm!"

"What do you mean, a guy like me?" Theo pouted, handing over her bag. Kelsey tried to work the zipper and gave up with a groan.

"If she knew, she would be so ashamed of me. Drinking, casual sex. I'm being so bad."

"Bad? Kelsey, you're a grown woman, not a girl." He located her pills and handed her daily dose over along with the water. "Birth control pill. Good hangover medicine."

"Fuck you."

"Tsk tsk. Mom wouldn't like your language either. You are a bad girl. Dirty." He was leering at her now. How the hell could he look at her hung over in bed, crying and whining, and bust out with that suggestive grin?

"Go away. Leave me alone," she said.

"I'm not leaving. You're in my room. But you are welcome to leave if you're feeling better. If you can get up and get dressed first."

Kelsey regarded her balled-up, suspiciously stained black clothes lying in a pile on the floor, and shut her eyes, collapsing back on Theo's soft pillows. "I can't. I don't ever want to move."

"Then sleep." He settled against her and pulled her close. "Tomorrow you'll feel better."

"I hope so." She lay back against his shoulder, against his solid warmth. "I'm never going back to the Citadel. I'm done with that place."

Theo made a noncommittal sound. "Do you think so?"

I don't know what I think. I don't know what I want. I don't know what's happening to my life.

"Just sleep, little one," he said.

Chapter Nine: Power

By the following day, Kelsey felt somewhat human again. Human enough to suffer through a low impact warm up and do some work on the silks.

Little by little they were developing a narrative for their act, a storyline to inhabit their movements. They'd created the fantasy of a man trying to catch a butterfly at dusk. As the butterfly, Kelsey had to be both graceful and alluring. Her beauty was supposed to provoke the man so much he wanted to possess her. But when he finally had success, when he finally grabbed her and slid down the silks to tuck her away with his other belongings, her delicate wings were damaged. In capturing her, he harmed her so she could no longer fly.

Or maybe he just got her really, really drunk.

It was a simple, sweet story, and tragic enough to work perfectly as the grand finale of the Cirque du Minuit. Soon after, the director provided them with music, the final component of their act. It was a breathy, pulsing euro-sex composition that gave her a strong urge to giggle. Only Theo's scowl kept her in check.

They showed Guy Benoit what they had so far, while Theo muttered the whole time about how awful the music was. Guy loved the flying stuff and wanted more of it. He loved the tragic beauty of the butterfly story and encouraged them to flesh it out. Then Guy mentioned the teeth trick and Kelsey lost it, snorting in laughter behind her hands. She had to run off and collect herself, grabbing her bag and pretending to look for a tissue. After a few minutes, Guy left and Theo stalked over, eyes blazing.

"That was very disrespectful."

"The teeth trick!" Kelsey wailed, still laughing. "Oh, my God. It's just...he so clearly knows nothing about aerial silks."

"Neither did you, a month ago."

Kelsey sobered and stared up at him. "What are you so pissed off about?"

"Because he's the director of the show. His opinion means something. You can't laugh at him and run away and expect to maintain his support. This act could be cut. Any act in the circus can be cut, any time, any reason. Even the night before the show."

She dug in her bag, found what she wanted. Sugar straws. "Fine. Next time I see him I'll apologize." She needed a red. Badly. She sorted through the various colors, only to have the entire package plucked from her grasp. "Hey!"

"I just decided. You're giving up candy."

"What?" She stood and lunged for her Licky Stix, but he raised them out of her reach.

"I gave up cigarettes, you give up candy. It's only fair."

"Fair, my ass. Candy doesn't kill you. Candy doesn't cause cancer and emphysema."

"Cavities."

"Oh, seriously?"

"Cavities, diabetes. Hyperactivity," he added as she jumped repeatedly to reach the sugar straws he held over his head. "You're like a junkie." He swatted her arm away. "Stop. If I don't get cigarettes, you don't get candy. No more candy." He shook his finger at her. "And no sneaking. I'll know."

"I hate you."

He regarded her thoughtfully. "You're a bad girl, speaking to me that way. You ought to be punished." His hand closed around her wrist. He pulled her toward the door of the practice space, tossing the package of Licky Stix in the trash as they went. Kelsey let herself be dragged along, more out of curiosity than willingness. They came to a utility closet and Theo pulled her inside. She saw shelves of cleanser and liquid soap, and neatly stacked paper towels for only a moment before Theo shut and locked the door, plunging them in darkness. He bent her forward with pressure on the back of her neck.

"Reach out and put your hands on the wall."

Just like that, Kelsey was hot. Melting. She couldn't believe he was doing this, but she was all in. She reached out and felt smooth, painted concrete. She waited, taking deep breaths.

Theo braced her with his hip, wrapping an arm around her waist. He started spanking her, hard, stinging blows that fell like a volley of hot fire. She didn't dare cry out, for fear someone would come running to check out the racket behind the door. The punishment was loud and freaking painful.

Okay, so this was a little beyond what she'd expected. These were no playful slaps on the ass. Her hands slid on the wall and she bit her lip to keep from yelling at him to stop. Random little grunts and whines still escaped, along with whispered begging. Ow. Oww! His hand was amazingly powerful, each slap a torment that elevated her onto her toes.

He finally stopped, and Kelsey gasped for breath. Thank God. "Theo..." she whimpered. But he'd only stopped to peel down her leggings. She stood up to stop him but he forced her back down again with a firm hand and a hiss.

She put her hands back on the wall, ashamed and yet alarmingly turned on. She wanted him to stop spanking her and touch her in another place. Her pussy was wet, her clit aching for his fingers. But no...more spanking. Fast and brutal, then slow. He started squeezing her ass between each stroke so she burned under his fingertips. Her knees were trembling with the effort to be still, but there was no way to get away. She couldn't see. She could only feel him holding her trapped and punishing her ass cheeks. When she tried to dodge or cower, his arm braced harder around her waist.

Ohh... She moaned from the overload of pain and sensation. Her whole body was shaking with the need for release. She lost track of time. It might have been three minutes or thirty that he belabored her ass. His hand never stopped with its wicked, biting slaps. How could his hand alone hurt her so badly? But then she'd felt its strength while she was hanging twenty feet above the mat. If he had the strength to hold her whole body weight, he had the strength to punish her ass cheeks too.

You ought to be punished. As soon as he'd said it, she'd wanted it with a guilty, horny hopefulness, and he hadn't made her wait. But now she was reaching her breaking point. She felt tears welling over in her eyes, and started trying harder to pull away. "Please, please," she begged softly. "Please stop."

She didn't even know if he could hear her over the battery of smacks, but the rain of fire ceased, at least momentarily. "What will you do to make me stop, bad girl? How will you redeem yourself?"

She sucked in air, trying to think. Another scene, another dark space. Minya falling to her knees. Kelsey dropped, or maybe Theo pushed her down. She braced in the dark, her mouth opened, remembering Theo driving deep between Minya's lips. She didn't know how to do this thing. She'd made a few lackluster attempts at it with her first lover, sure, but…

Theo put his hand on her neck and drew close. She tensed, but no cock invaded her throat. He pressed it to her lips instead, tracing slick fluid from the tip across her tongue. She found it partly disgusting but also vaguely erotic. "Open up," he said in a brusque tone. "Lick it like a lollipop. Like that candy you eat."

Something in the tenor of his voice drove her on when she thought she might lose her courage. She crouched there in the dark with his fingers in her hair and fumbled to please him. She licked his hard, upstanding cock, following its contours with her tongue though she couldn't see them. She licked up to the tip and back down, swirling around the ridged crown. He made a sound that convinced her to repeat it. "Suck me now," he grunted. "Pleasure me."

She closed her mouth around his shaft, trying to take him deeper. "Pas de dents," he said sharply. Kelsey tried to use her lips and tongue only, but his cock was so big. She started licking it again. Like a lollipop... But this lollipop was growing larger in her mouth instead of smaller. She tried again to take him deep. Pas de dents! No teeth! He was going to choke her.

Why did she have to suck at this so bad? Why hadn't she practiced on cucumbers or bananas or something? She kept trying, steeling herself not to gag. Her pussy was throbbing, her ass still bare and exposed, still red hot from Theo's avid spanking. If anyone opened the door, she would die of embarrassment, but for the moment the darkness emboldened her.

She explored the length of him with her fingers, caressing the parts she couldn't reach with her mouth. She gingerly touched his balls, marveling at their size and texture. She breathed in his male scent--not unpleasant, just unfamiliar. His groans drove her on, his whispered encouragements, some in English and some in French. She whined his name against his shaft. She wanted him so badly, wanted his cock inside her.

He drew away from her abruptly. In the dark, she wasn't sure where he'd come at her next. She could only wait for the contact. She was pushed forward to her hands and knees, and then he was behind her, entering her hot, slick sheath. She bowed her head to the cold floor and arched her back. Her hips twitched, her pussy grasping on the intrusion that drove her simmering ache to a dangerous height. She was begging now, pleading for his touch. "Theo. Theo!"

He reached down and covered her mouth with a firm hand, the same hand perhaps that had just spanked her. She moaned against the pressure of his fingers. Beneath her, he slid his palm against her pussy, exploring and parting her, brushing fingertips over her clit.

She reached back and grasped at his legs, feeling crisp hair and his muscles moving across her palms as he thrust in her faster, faster. She could feel his breath against her neck, quick pants coinciding with her body's own unraveling. Her leggings still rested at the top of her thighs, binding her legs together. Her ass ached as he buffeted it with his hips.

She wailed so loud when she came that Lemaitre would have heard it up in the office complex if not for Theo's fingers over her lips. Kelsey lost herself there in the darkness. She was truly lost.

He slid to rest beside her, running a hand down to cup her bare ass. He pinched the sore flesh, then grasped it possessively. He didn't say anything, just breathed, and breathed, and breathed against her skin, in her ear. Blowing life into her. He turned her face and kissed her, and she felt alive with an intensity she couldn't explain.

* * * * *

Theo broke the kiss, gasping for breath. For control. There were voices outside the door. Kelsey sat up beside him. From her movements he guessed she was hurriedly pulling her leggings back up.

He lurched to his feet, banging his shoulder into a shelf. The people talking outside seemed to have gone away. He fumbled in the dark for a light switch and found it beside the door. "Close your eyes," he whispered.

When he flicked the light on, she was hunched up on the floor, her knees to her chest. She hid her face from him, or maybe she was just covering her eyes from the glare.

He scanned the shelves of paper goods and cleaning products before he leaned over her. "Are you okay?"

"I have no idea," she said. "I really don't."

Theo sighed. "We should get back. People will notice. Wonder where we are."

For some reason, that struck his partner as funny. She looked up at him, laughing, her mussed blonde hair falling over her eyes. "You scare me sometimes. You know that? You really do."

He frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

She shook her head and stood. He wanted to kiss her again, so he did, taking her elbow and pulling her close so he could feel the rise and fall of her chest. She broke away first this time, adjusting her clothes and hiding her face. He gazed down at her. "You're ashamed in the light, but not in the dark? I wonder what that means."

She returned his stare measure for measure. "If I knew what any of this meant, I'd be a lot less scared overall. You said we have to get back, right? Let's get back."

He stepped away from the door. "You go first. I'll come in a minute." He pulled her back. "Wait."

He ran his fingers over her hair, smoothing it down, setting all the gently waving locks back to rights. It was so soft, so shiny. How had he never noticed it before, the beauty of her hair? And her eyes, such a deep, striking blue, like lilacs. There were so many things to love about her. She was the world's worst fellatrice, perhaps, but they could work on that.

Ugh, lovestruck idiot. If he didn't get a grip, they wouldn't be leaving the closet until they'd finished another round. "Go," he said, giving her a nudge. "Go quick. Act like nothing happened."

Kelsey left, taking her sweet smell and silken hair with her. Theo waited, his forehead pressed against the door. What was he doing? Falling in love? Now? With her? Thirty-four years he'd kept a step ahead of love, dodging and ducking it. Dancing around it when it came too close. Now, with Kelsey, it was like he'd charged right into its grip.

If I knew what any of this meant, I'd be a lot less scared overall. Truer words were never spoken. But Theo might rephrase it to If I knew where any of this was going, I'd be a lot less scared overall. How far was he going to take this? How much was he going to risk? Power exchange had always granted him a measure of control. He'd always been in charge, and found comfort in that. Now, for the first time, he didn't feel like he was in control at all.

With a growl of frustration, he turned out the light and pushed open the door. He ambled down the hall toward the practice space, turned the corner, and stopped short. Golden Boy was chatting with Kelsey outside the restrooms. Every time he saw him he wanted to punch him in the groin. He was standing far too close to her, giving her that false, absorbed look, pretending she was so interesting. Theo knew the thoughts in Wayne's head. He could read them in his body language, in the tension of his shoulders. Asshole.

"Kelsey, come on," Theo said.

"Just a minute. I'm talking to Wayne."

Yeah, Theo could see that. He leaned on the wall near the golden couple, skewering Wayne with his eyes.

"We should go out sometime," he was saying. Kelsey nodded. Theo fumed.

"I would love that. You've been here longer than me. You probably know all the best restaurants."

Theo pictured perfect Kelsey and perfect Wayne sitting across the table from one another at some cozy bistro. Candlelight. Wine. Asshole.

"Kelsey," Theo barked.

Kelsey rolled her eyes and gave Wayne an apologetic look. "I'll talk to you later. Gotta go practice. You know where to find me."

Great. Now Theo was picturing Kelsey letting Wayne into her room, inviting him to sit on the bed...

"He's such an asshole," Theo hissed as soon as they were away. "Why do you talk to him?"

"He's my friend! And he's not an asshole. Even if he was...talk about the pot calling the kettle black."

"What are you talking about? Pot? Kettle? What?"

Kelsey waved a hand. "It's a phrase, in English. It means, like--"

"Whatever. Are you really going to go out with him?"

"Why not? He says he wants to get to know me better, which is a lot more than I can say for you."

"Get to know you better? Ha. This is bullshit. He wants to sleep with you."

"He does not."

Theo pulled her to a halt and shook his head. "So naive. All men always want to sleep with all women. He, in particular,"--Theo pointed back in Wayne's direction--"wants to sleep with you." He darted a finger at her chest. "This friend nonsense is one of the many strategies men use. And gullible women like you, they believe."

Kelsey put her hands on her hips. "You're so cynical. You don't think there are any men out there who truly want to be friends with women? Who have no ulterior motive about sex?"

Theo threw back his head and laughed. "No, there aren't."

"You think you can speak for all men?" she asked. "Because I wouldn't exactly call you typical."

He might have taken it as a compliment if her voice hadn't sounded so cruel. "Come on," he said, in an equally cruel tone. "We've wasted enough time today."

* * * * *

Kelsey sat in her room that night and stared at the sugar straws in her palm. She hadn't eaten one in over twelve hours--a record for her. She didn't need them, not really. She could live if she didn't have them.

The greater issue was, why did she feel the need to obey him? Even now, when he would never know? Well, knowing Theo, he could bust down her door and walk in any time. He could be erratic that way.

Maybe he hadn't even meant what he said.

Maybe he only meant she couldn't eat candy during practice times.

Well, there was only one way to find out what he meant, and that was to go see him. Go to his room and…

Who was she kidding? There was only one reason she wanted to seek him out. She walked down the hall to his room, feeling like a total slut, but he wasn't there. Or didn't want to answer his door. She looked in the kitchen and common room and was just about to give up when she saw the door to the back garden was ajar.

They called it a garden, but it was just a poorly kept backyard with a broken stone patio. There was a raised spot in the corner that may have been a garden once, but it was overgrown with wildflowers now. In the middle of that spot, Theo Zamora sat alone on a blanket in the dark.

"What are you doing out here?" asked Kelsey, crossing the yard.

"Wishing for a cigarette."

Kelsey sighed. "I miss my candy too."

He turned a stem in his hand, ripping the petals off a wildflower. She had to step closer to see his face. "So...I have a question."

His face looked slightly pained. "I might answer, if it's not too hard."

"What did you mean exactly, when you said I had to give up candy?"

Theo threw the shredded stalk down. "No more candy, Kelsey. That's what I meant."

"Well...okay. No more Licky Stix, or no more candy in general?"

He lay back on the blanket, crossing his arms behind his head. "No candy, girl. You are sweet enough without it. And athletes like you should not have these things."

Yeah, Jason had told her that too, and her old coaches, and her parents, but... "That's going to be really hard for me. I might not be able to do it," she said.

He turned and gave her a long, searching look. "If you want to be good, you'll do it. If not--" He shrugged, his lips drawn down in a moue. "Good or bad girl. You decide."

Kelsey wondered if being a bad girl might result in more punishments like she'd gotten in the utility closet earlier in the day. If so, she wasn't sure if she wanted to obey or not. She sighed in frustration, running a hand over one sore ass cheek.

Theo chuckled. "I see you are weighing your options."

That's what he always forced her to do--weigh options. Good or bad girl. You decide. "Is there enough room on your blanket for me?"

He moved over and patted the comforter. "Come." She lay down beside him and crossed her arms behind her head like he did. She looked up at the sky and her eyes went wide.

"You're stargazing."

"Mmm."

It surprised her he would admit it. He didn't seem the whimsical stargazing type. But then, he was full of surprises.

She settled back and took in the bowl of the night above her. The sky was black-dark and cloudless. The stars were brighter than she could ever remember seeing in Laguna Hills.

"Why do the stars look different here? Because I'm on a different continent?"

Theo snorted. "There are the same stars everywhere."

"That's not what I meant. I know they're the same stars. But they look different here."

He paused a moment before he answered. "Maybe it's because you're different. Different than you were."

He had a way of speaking that cut through all the bullshit that cushioned her life. She was different now. She was struggling, coming to terms with it. For him, it was just a fact. She wrapped her arms around her waist and shivered.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"No." It wasn't a cold night. The temperature was perfect. The stars were beautiful. Theo sprawled lazy and relaxed beside her, but she was agitated and confused. "Theo, why did I enjoy what you did to me in the closet today? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you. You're a sex freak, like a lot of people."

She turned on her side and propped her head on her arm. "So how did you know I was a sex freak? You knew, didn't you? What is it about me that gave it away?"

His expression tightened for a moment, although he still gazed skyward. "You remember, I saw your face that day in the storage room. Your interest was clear as day. Then you came to my house, and when I tried to frighten you away, I turned you on instead. Then I knew, beyond a doubt." He laughed softly. "It's so intense in you, I don't believe you didn't know all your life."

"I didn't know until you showed me."

She turned onto her back, picking out the brightest stars, and then searching out the dimmest ones, the ones you could barely see. Maybe she only imagined them there.

"Do you know the constellations?" Theo asked abruptly. "Ursa Major. Ursa Minor. Centaurus." He pointed them out, his strong hand raised up to the sky. She was torn between staring at his hand and the formations he was showing her. "And there, Cassiopeia." He chuckled, lowering his arm. "When I was little, I couldn't remember the names, so I made up my own names. Snake. Ladybug. Kitty with a long tail. My grand-mère would make up stories for all the animals I saw in the sky. She told me a story once about a ladybug who was black with red spots, instead of red with black spots. All the other ladybugs made fun of her and the children wouldn't catch her on their fingertips because they said she was bad luck."

It was the most he'd ever said to her at one time. "Mean old ladybugs," she murmured. "Mean kids."

"But you see, the black ladybug knew there was nothing wrong with her. That she was just different." The corner of his lips turned up in a smile. "I don't know why my grandmother would have told me that story."

"Or why you're telling it to me now," replied Kelsey with her own grin. "Are we just a couple of black ladybugs, you and me?"

"You are, anyway."

"Hey!" Kelsey nudged him and Theo caught her hand. He tickled her side until she squealed and rolled up against him. He put a finger to her lips.

"Shh. This is a quiet, peaceful night. No shrieking witch."

"I'm not a shrieking witch, you ass." She subsided, resting her head against Theo's shoulder, looking back up at the stars.

"Do you know about it, Kelsey?" he asked after a while. "Dominance and submission? This thing we're doing? I don't know so good how to explain it. Only how to do it."

Kelsey couldn't explain it either. But she knew. "There's just a dominant person, right? And a submissive one?"

"Yes, that's you. You like submitting to me, yes? Doing the things I make you do?"

Kelsey was silent a moment. "If I didn't like them, could I make you stop?"

"If you wanted to. You can always make me stop just by going away. It may not seem so, but I only have as much power as you give me. What I take is only what you give. Nothing more. You understand?"

She nodded against the curve of his shoulder. "Yes. But even then...sometimes it feels scary to me. Like I'm not in control, even though you say I am."

Theo shot her a wicked grin. "That means I'm doing it right. You feel me, yes? In your mind and your body." His hand slid between her legs to rest against her center. "You feel me here every time I'm near, even if I don't touch you."

She didn't answer. She didn't need to. It took all her willpower not to arch her pussy against his palm. "You've turned me into a bad girl, Theo," she whispered.

He looked down at her lips and kissed her softly once. Twice. He drew back and looked at her while one slow finger slid up her cleft, over her clothes, to come to rest on one throbbing spot. "No, I just let the bad girl who was always inside you come out into the light. Little black ladybug," he murmured, breathing soft against her lips.

Oh, Theo. She was so enamored of him. It was true. She felt him everywhere. Felt his teasing, probing finger, felt the pulse of his heartbeat in his shoulder where her head still rested. Felt his hard stomach and strong thigh sliding against hers. He pulled away and looked down at her.

"Michel asked for permission to play with you."

Kelsey's mind reeled, jolted from sensual relaxation to alarm. "What-- Really? Uh. Why would he ask you and not me?"

Theo shrugged. "Because you are mine. In this, you are. Until you leave me for another, or leave the life."

"The life?"

"All this. The dominance and submission. The power exchange."

"Until I leave the circus?"

"The Citadel. And the circus, yes."

"Or until you let me go."

"I'll never let go of you, Kelsey."

He said it so easily, so matter of factly, that her breath caught. She stared at him. He stared back, as if he'd said nothing out of the ordinary.

"Um. Okay. Well, what did you tell him?"

"That you weren't ready yet. You aren't. But I think you would find it an interesting experience."

"What would he do to me?" Kelsey asked.

"Ah, that's the joy of playing with Le Maître. You never know. Nothing dangerous. He would do what I do. Take power from you. Stoke desires you never knew you had. It's what he lives for. This circus, these shows, they are his never-ending fantasy. His compulsion to confront people and make people feel. Yes, he is dangerous...but not dangerous."

Kelsey digested that information. "So when will you-- What will you tell him-- When will you tell him my answer?"

"I've already told him your answer is yes, because I knew it would be. As for when you'll be ready, well... We'll see. You have a few more things to learn."

With those words, he rolled over to look back up at the sky. Kelsey felt alarm, yes, but more curiosity.

"Did you take Minya to play with him?"

"You are not Minya," Theo said sharply.

"I know. But did you?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "A few times." Then he clamped his mouth shut, and Kelsey sensed that was the end of the conversation. She lay back too, beside her dominant, and studied the constellations. Snake. Ladybug. No. She saw a wolf instead, a dragon, and a falcon that could be Theo, swooping down and carrying her away in his grasp. Sailing around the sky in circles with her, as they did on the silks. It was maybe ten minutes or more before he spoke to her again.

"Stay away from Wayne. Your gymnast friend."

Kelsey didn't understand Theo's animosity for Wayne, not for a moment. She'd never known a nicer guy in her life. "Why are you going to put me in the path of a 'dangerous' person like Lemaitre, and warn me away from someone harmless like Wayne?"

"He's not harmless. He's dishonest."

"Oh, and you've never lied to me?"

"No. Not once. I don't lie." His lip curled in derision. "I'd rather not say anything than lie and deceive."

"Wayne doesn't lie either. He's never lied to me."

Theo looked over at her, a hard gaze. Her gypsy king, eyes blazing dark. "Every time he looks at you, he lies. His voice when he speaks to you. Lies. Deception. You think he is a better man than me, I know. In some ways, maybe he is. But with me, you know--"

"Know what?" Kelsey prompted when he fell silent.

"With me, you know--" He stopped again, his face screwed up in frustration. "Just watch out for the red ladybugs," he said, and then flopped on his other side, giving her his back.

Chapter Ten: Control

"So, what's going on with you and Theo Zamora?"

Kelsey looked at Wayne over the top of her menu.

"What do you mean?"

She and Wayne were having dinner at a local corner bistro, the best they could seem to do between rehearsals, workouts, and their other social obligations. Like her ongoing obligations to the topic of the conversation.

Wayne gave her a piercing look. "I don't know, Kelsey. He acts like he's in charge of you. Is he?"

Kelsey closed the menu and put it down, choosing her words carefully. "Well, he's my coach now. He's in charge of my act. So he's kind of in charge of me, yeah."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about."

Thankfully, the waitress came at that moment to take their orders. They bumbled through the process with their terrible, hatchet-job French and Kelsey missed Theo's smooth fluency when he took her out. But Theo was Theo, and this was Wayne from Cali, and they were just friends. Or was it her and Theo who were just friends? Wayne was staring at her again.

"What was your question?"

"I'm just wondering if Theo is your official dominant. To speak plainly."

"Well, then, yes. To speak plainly. He is."

Wayne seemed perturbed to hear it. "Is he anything more? I mean, do you just play at the club together? Or are you two in an actual relationship?"

Great question. Who the fuck knows? "We're very close, but not in a formal relationship. That's the best answer I can give you."

Wayne made a face. "I'm surprised you trust him. I mean, far enough to do power exchange with him, much less the rest."

"We do an act together sixty feet off the ground. Of course I trust him." Wayne made another face and Kelsey wondered what the hell was going on. "What's so wrong with him? Why shouldn't I trust him?"

Wayne took a drink and leaned closer. "To begin with, he dropped his partner. She died, Kelsey."

"Duh. That was an accident. Not his fault."

"But was it an accident? You haven't been in Paris, so you don't know this, but they've opened an investigation. Minya's parents wanted to know why the safety line didn't catch. But when the police came to confiscate the equipment, it had been destroyed. Lemaitre wouldn't produce it. He said they destroyed it because of--get this--superstition. He told the police the safety cables were tainted and he couldn't risk them being used again."

"And the police accepted that?"

"What else could they do?" Wayne's eyes scanned the restaurant before returning to her. "Although, if we're going to talk about tainted...your partner..."

"He's not tainted."

"Are you sure of that? Those safety cables don't break, so you connect the dots."

"You think someone cut them? But who would do that? Not Theo."

Wayne shrugged. "We'll never know now. But the Chinese government is involved and everything. Minya and her family are national treasures. I wouldn't be surprised if the Chinese authorities showed up in Marseille to talk to Theo."

Kelsey felt unsettled. She hadn't heard about any of this. "So they thought--they suspect--"

"I don't know if you realize how tight your partner and Lemaitre are. Funny, for those cables to go missing."

Kelsey knew there was no way Theo had cut the safety line. It was inconceivable. But one tiny niggling doubt weasled its way into her chest and made it just a little bit harder to breathe for a moment. She remembered the cool way he'd treated Minya the night of that show, his apparently troubled mood. In hindsight...

"No," Kelsey said. "I don't believe it. He's a really cautious partner. He's really a stickler for safety," she added, remembering the time he'd slapped her for letting go too early.

"Maybe so," said Wayne. "But I heard he and Minya were on the outs for a few weeks before it happened. That Theo was looking into finding a new partner, a new act." He arched a brow at her. "Maybe he'd already found the one he wanted. Maybe he 'dropped' Minya so he could create an act with you."

Kelsey threw up her hands. "Ridiculous. If he wanted a new act, he could have just said so. He didn't have to kill off his partner. And I guarantee he wasn't angling to do an act with me. Not by a long shot."

Wayne shrugged. "Okay, sure. Maybe you're right."

"Anyway, you seem to be 'hearing' a lot of things a lot of places. What are you, the Cirque du Monde hearsay pipeline?"

Wayne looked annoyed for a moment before his face relaxed into more jovial lines. "Whatever. Don't let me freak you out. If he's a good partner to you--in both arenas--I'm happy for you."

Kelsey steered the conversation back to Wayne's group of acrobats and the development of their act. To her relief, he seemed to lighten up considerably, happy to talk about the smaller day-to-day dramas associated with the show. The food came and they moved on to reminiscing about their time at the gym in Laguna Hills.

There was something about Wayne, his smile or the sparkle in his eyes, that was so infectious. After so many weeks of Theo's dark brooding scowls, Wayne was like a breath of fresh air.

"We'll have to do this again," she said at the end of the meal. "And next time I'm buying."

"No, no," said Wayne. "I'm an old-fashioned guy. I love to take out a pretty girl. If she's an old friend, even better."

A pretty girl. Ten years ago...hell, five years ago...she would have died to hear him say that about her. He'd been so exalted in her eyes, so unreachable. But could she have Wayne now...with her relationship with Theo?

Hell yeah, she could. Theo wasn't anything approximating a real boyfriend, but Wayne could be. Wayne was total boyfriend material. She gave him a flirty smile. Some knowledge or emotion played behind his eyes.

"You adorable thing," he sighed. "I miss home so much when I see you. Those eyes, that golden hair. That smile. What are you doing tonight?"

Damn. Kelsey would be expected at Theo's. She could try to beg out of it, but if he found out it was to spend time with Wayne, he would flip.

"I have an, um, prior engagement."

"With Theo, I guess."

Kelsey played it off. "Yeah, but it's not a date or anything. Just…hanging out together. To be honest, our relationship is mostly professional." Lies, lies, lies. She was telling lies about Theo to Wayne. Theo would be so angry if he knew. I'd rather not say anything than lie and deceive.

If Wayne thought she was lying, he didn't show it. He said, "I haven't seen you guys back at the Citadel in a while."

"We've been staying in." Kelsey didn't elaborate on the things they'd been doing in Theo's sparsely furnished room. "Do you go to the Citadel very often?" she asked, looking up at him from under her lashes.

"Sure, I go. I have to say, I'm getting into it. More than I thought I would. It's like this crazy, alternative world where the rules are totally different."

"I know what you mean."

He gave her another one of those disarming, bright smiles. "Maybe you and I can go together sometime. If, uh...if Theo would let you. If he wouldn't mind."

When hell freezes over, Kelsey thought to herself. But she smiled at Wayne and said, "Yeah, maybe. Sure."

* * * * *

Theo headed to the kitchen, his mind firmly fixed on the woman kneeling upstairs in his room. He liked to make her wait...and worry. All part of his training program. She was proving to be as capable a student in the bedroom as she was in the practice gym. Their act was coming along swimmingly. Their power exchange scenes even more so.

At the sound of sharp, low male voices, Theo paused outside the door.

"So your Kelsey project isn't going according to plan?" It was Manuel, Wayne's acrobat friend.

Theo heard some more mumbling, and then, from the Golden Boy himself, "I just want to lay her. I've put so much time into her already."

"Why does it have to be her? I hear Sarah's a real slut. Or maybe try that new contortionist from the Ukraine."

"Fuck. No. They're easy. What's the fun in that? I want Kelsey Cutesy Martin. I want to fuck her up. Break her. It's the challenge, man."

"You want to break her like, evil break her or sexy break her?"

"However I can get her, that's how I want her. She's apparently into that Citadel back room shit. I'll beat on her if she wants me to. Whatever gets my dick in her pants."

"Nice," the other guy mumbled. "You sicko."

Sicko indeed. His instincts about Wayne were right. Kelsey had called Theo a gypsy once, but he wasn't exactly that. His grandmother had been able to read people like a book though, and he had enough of her blood to spot a two-faced asshole like Wayne a mile away. Not that Theo was worried about Kelsey. Guys like Wayne put on a big act, usually because their insecurities ran so deep. Idiot. If Wayne thought he could break Kelsey, he was barking up the wrong tree.

Theo took a few steps back down the hall and then approached the kitchen again, whistling loudly. The two men fell silent as Theo crossed to the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of wine and two wineglasses, and sauntered back out of the room. He nodded to Wayne as he went. The blank, guileless look Golden Boy returned made Theo want to laugh.

"Bonne nuit," he said over his shoulder. Good night, you fucking prick. I'm going to fuck Kelsey Martin now, and I won't have to break her to enjoy myself.

Theo took the stairs two at a time and slipped into his room. There was nothing special about it. White, bare walls, nondescript furniture. Utilitarian bed with a retro print comforter and gray fleece blanket on top. There was only one beautiful thing about the room, and she was kneeling beside the table. Kelsey was posed in the way he'd taught her, sitting back on her heels with her legs slightly spread and her hands resting open on her thighs.

For the moment, Theo ignored her. He opened the wine, tossing the cork in the trash. He was finally reaching a point where he didn't crave a cigarette with his alcohol. Kelsey was a far more attractive complement. He poured a glass of the dark red liquid and brought it to his nose. He took a sip and then another, studying his submissive in her classic slave stance.

He'd embarked full scale on a journey of training with her. Not for Michel, or to live up to some expected standard of BDSM mastery. He was training her because she enjoyed it and because she was just so damn gorgeous when she was submitting to him.

Theo stood to undress, slipping his shirt over his head and pushing his sweatpants down over his rising erection. Her only response was an almost undetectable intake of breath. He heard it though. He was so attuned to her--more so each time they completed one of these sessions.

He pulled a chair over, lounging across from her line of sight. She remained utterly still, utterly servile. He reached for the wine and took another sip. Waiting to touch her was a pleasure every bit as sensual as enjoying the aroma of a fine wine before one drank.

Finally he put down his glass and leaned forward, one arm braced on his knee. She still looked forward, back straight, breasts jutting out, perfect little globes. He tapped her under the chin, making a small adjustment to the angle of her face. "Why are you here?" he asked quietly.

"To serve you, Master." Her voice was slow and sweet.

"Come then." He gestured her forward, smoothing her hair as she bowed her head and lowered her mouth over his cock. She licked him in a long slide to begin, and he had to suppress a shudder. Her warm mouth enveloped him in gentle, practiced suction.

"Touch me," he said after a moment, and her hands came up to cradle and caress the base of his cock and his balls. Her fingers played over him while her lips and tongue worked sensual magic. Theo gazed down at the blonde head bowed before him, then he threw back his head and let go, basking in her service. She was making progress. It had only taken a few reprimands, a few punishments before she learned to take more care in her technique.

After a few minutes he sat up again, easing himself deeper, pushing her limits. She had a strong gag reflex, and probably always would, but she tried. He urged her forward with a hand on the back of the neck each time she retreated. The tears came, as always, perhaps from effort or perhaps from fear. Perhaps from powerlessness. He made a soft sound of encouragement to fortify her.

Within a couple of minutes, he was nearing his peak. It wasn't just her improved technique that had his balls drawing up in pleasure. It was the struggle, the effort she put forth to please him. Without warning, he erupted in her mouth, his whole body quaking in bursts of exquisite release. She swallowed every last drop, delicately, savoring it as she'd been taught. He wiped a tear from her eye before reaching again for his wine.

"You're getting better," he said.

"Thank you, Master."

He let her rest her head against his thigh while he stroked her hair. Occasionally, he shared the wine from his glass, holding it to her lips. The only reason he'd taken two glasses from the kitchen was so Wayne would understand Kelsey was upstairs with him. Theo much preferred to feed and give her drink himself when they were exchanging power. One more way to control, and yet nurture. He let her have one more sip, then pulled her up to sit in his lap. Her pussy felt hot and damp against his thigh.

He kissed her for a while, his fingers playing over her skin. He pinched and tortured her nipples, one and then the other, until she whimpered pleas into his mouth. He drove fingers into her pussy, avoiding her clitoris. He wanted to keep her unsatisfied for a while.

He put his fingers to her mouth and let her lick them clean. Then he dipped them into his glass and painted her nipples with wine. He sucked off the burgundy liquid, worrying the tender peaks between his teeth until she struggled, pushing him away. He lowered her back to the floor with a tsk.

"Hands behind your neck," he ordered.

"It hurts!"

He gave her a warning look. Her eyes filled with tears. "It hurts, Master. Please..."

"I know," he said. "Now, hands behind your neck."

Slowly, she raised her arms and laced her fingers at the back of her neck, a position that thrust her breasts out even more. He flicked each nipple once or twice, and went for the clamps. She was so afraid of them. She shuddered, making begging sounds up until the moment he applied them and she realized it was all for naught. She took deep, gasping breaths, so the delicate silver chain between the clamps slid across her skin.

"Go lie on the bed," he said. "Lie on your back, and keep your hands clasped behind your neck."

He nudged her in the right direction. She looked like one big cringe, which wasn't a bad thing. From the way she walked across the room, the tension in her hips, he knew she was still on the way to orgasm, simmering in her cunt and breasts. Her nipples, before he clamped them, had been hard as little stones. His succulent coccinelle, midnight dark and totally unique.

Theo let her lie on the bed a while and suffer the bite of the clamps. Finally he went to her, parting her legs. He was already hard again, damn her, but he would last longer this time. He pushed open her pussy lips and kissed her at the apex of her thighs, licking roughly across her clit. She went instantly tense, arching against him. "Oh, Master, please..." she moaned. One more kiss and he left her, bereft and disappointed. Juicy and hot. He crossed to the bathroom to get a condom. She knew what that meant. Now that she was on the pill, they didn't use them for vaginal sex. Her begging sighs turned to wide-eyed distress.

He applied a thin coat of lube to what was already on the condom. He'd trained her not to expect any more. She was taking those deep breaths again as he approached the bed, leading with his fully erect shaft. "Master, please--"

"If you're not going to ask me to fuck your ass, then hush."

"But--"

"Hush."

She gave a lovely whimper. "It hurts when you fuck me there."

"It's not going to hurt as much as what comes after." He took her legs and raised them up, bracing her ankles against his shoulders. Her whining rose in volume as he prodded against her tight back hole. He entered just a little. "Oh, please. Master--" Her hands came down and her hips bucked up, a pointless attempt at escape. "Please, I don't like it."

He silenced her with a look. "Perhaps not. But I like it. Master wants to fuck your asshole. Put your hands behind your neck." He gazed at her, waiting. He wouldn't force her. Eventually she'd give in, submit. He knew the harder it was for her to do the things he asked, the more she enjoyed it when he did them. He gave her clamps a yank. "Be a good girl, and Master will let you come with his cock in your ass."

Slowly, so slowly, she returned her hands to their position and relaxed her hips. He put a hand on either side of her, positioning her for his entry, pinning her so she couldn't get away. She cried then in earnest, panicked, fearful. She always cried, but he paid her no mind. It was okay for her to be afraid, as long as she didn't fight him or try to get away.

He advanced again, entering her slowly, looking down to watch her tiny hole stretch around him. Her crying rose in intensity. He grasped her legs to increase her feelings of panic, her feeling of being trapped, at the same time he made soothing sounds to calm her down. He pushed in and out, little trespasses building up to a greater invasion.

Ah, she was so hot and tight. She was clenching him in her nervousness, but then she relaxed by slow degrees. Her arms, tight against her head, melted back onto the bed. He pushed in a little deeper, then pulled out again. Her whole body shook with the effort to contain him, to give up so much control. He pressed on, halfway, then all the way, in and out. He fucked her with a deliberately slow pace, forcing her to experience the sensation of taking every inch, again and again.

For him, it was deep, preternatural gratification. Not just the feel of her tight ass massaging his cock, but the knowledge of her surrender, her capitulation to an act that terrified her. As her legs relaxed, he leaned forward and played lazily with her pussy. Her cries transformed by small degrees into moans of pleasure as she bucked her clit against his palm.

"That feels good, doesn't it?" He pulled the chain between her breasts to get her attention. Her sex-glazed eyes finally focused on him. "I want you to feel good. I want you to come, and then, when you're exhausted and drained, when you have no defenses, you're going to take ten strokes of the cane."

Her eyes widened. "Why?"

"Why do I ever do any of the things I do to you? Because I want to." It was also partly because she'd gone to dinner with Wayne, but he wouldn't tell her that. She wouldn't think it was fair, and in truth it wasn't. But he could do anything he wanted to, by agreement. This was training, after all.

He watched her face, watched her try to balance her knowledge of the coming punishment with the ecstasy he was wreaking on her body. He loved her like this, distraught, uncomfortable. Completely disabled by lust. "Does it feel good?" he prompted. "Do you enjoy having your ass fucked?"

"Yes, Master." Her voice was docile and resigned. And shaky. He palmed her clit again, resulting in an urgent plea for satisfaction. He fucked her deeper, quickening his pace. His hips banged against the back of her thighs. She dug her heels into his shoulders, arching her back to seek more of his cock, more of his touch. His orgasm was building like a wave inside him, slow to gather but converging to higher and higher heights. The pleasure would ebb and then roll over him with even more intensity.

"Oh, God," he groaned, staring down at her. His bad, bad girl was thrusting against him, her hands still obediently clasped behind her neck. He could tell by her voice--and the uncontrolled movement of her hips--that she would come soon. He jerked the chain, eliciting a little shriek of pain from her, and drove into her hard and fast. When she came, clamping around him, the wave in his pelvis crested, shooting spasms through his cock and balls. He grabbed her hips and drove in to the hilt. She was his beautiful fucktoy. His living doll. His slave.

Her legs drooped, limp now against his chest. He leaned down to remove the clamps. Her ass clenched around him in reaction to the pain as the blood returned to her sensitive nipples. Only then did he withdraw slowly and guide her legs to the floor. He let her rest while he went to the bathroom and washed up. He felt so powerful, so satisfied--and he wasn't even finished with her yet.

He took a sip of wine before he returned to her sated figure. She was alert enough now to remember she had a caning coming, and her face reflected the anxiety she felt. Kelsey feared having her ass taken, but she always ended up enjoying it. In the case of the cane though--she never enjoyed that. It was good for her though, to submit to things that weren't for her pleasure, but his.

"Come." He gestured to the floor at his feet. She was already whimpering. She was too wise by now to beg; he added strokes if she did that. "Head down, ass in the air. The usual position." She started to arrange herself but he pulled her head up by the hair.

"Yes, Master," he prompted.

"Yes, Master," she said through tears.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, massaging her nape. "I haven't started yet."

"Because it's going to hurt."

"Yes, it is. What an obedient girl you are, to take it anyway."

He released her and she curled down into the position he'd taught her, with her forehead on the floor, her knees together and her ass presented for punishment. He let her curl her arms beneath her chest because it was still so hard for her not to reach back and cover herself. Eventually, she'd learn to leave them resting beside her head. He left her there to shiver and quake while he went to the closet for the cane. It was rattan, nice and sting-y.

Before he began, he tapped it lightly against each cheek. She jerked, her body tight with tension. "Count for me, girl."

He gave her the first stroke, and she let loose with a cry before she managed to say, "One!"

He laid two and three above and below the first one, then four and five beside those. This was the point when she used to collapse and roll over, begging for respite. Now she only cried into her hands, pressing her knees together even tighter and curling her toes. "Six! Seven! Oh..."

He paused a moment, giving her time to collect herself. He'd raised seven lovely pink welts across her bottom. "Three more," he said over her broken cries. "Three more and we'll be done."

"Yes, Master."

"Put your hands beside your head for the last three. Flat on the floor. Don't move them." He tapped the side of her thigh. "Ass up. It's not over yet."

She rocked a little on eight and nine, but she didn't move her hands. Progress. He gave her the last stroke and she wailed "Ten!" in relief. Ten slender welts and one exhausted, brave little sub. She was almost ready for Lemaitre. Or Le Maître, as he was known in his self-created underworld. Kelsey would delight him. What she would make of Le Maître, Theo wasn't sure.

"Sit up," he said shortly. "Sit back on your heels."

She flinched as she rested her marked ass cheeks on her feet. Her palms came to rest atop her thighs. So beautiful. He went to the cabinet, to his training reward stash. He drew out a red sugar straw and carried it over to her. "Tongue out, ladybug."

She gave him a look, a tired smile, and complied. He spilled the sugar on her tongue. The first time he'd done it he made her close her eyes and she'd laughed, aspirated the powder, and choked it up for a good five minutes. No such drama now.

She smiled again, savoring the treat, her reward for being a good girl. She stuck out her tongue at him when she finished. It was stained in red. It made almost a shape of a heart, that sugar stain.

As he held her later in bed, freshly showered and scrubbed, cuddling in his arms, he thought about that heart and knew he was losing his mind. Theo Zamora didn't fall in love. It was weakness, silliness. He had no intention of falling for Kelsey Martin, of all people. But impulses and longings were funny things. Even for Theo, they were impossible to control.

She slept on, exhausted and so trusting. At peace, as she always was.

Sweet. So sweet.

Chapter Eleven: Le Maître

They were six weeks out from Cirque du Minuit's premiere night. The set was finished, the costumes ready to go. The tickets had gone on sale that morning, and the first week had sold out in under an hour. Twenty-five hundred seats, times eight weekly performances. Kelsey did the math in a sort of wonder. Twenty thousand people a week to watch her perform. Twenty thousand people to witness any flubs they didn't have straightened out by then.

Tonight they were scheduled to put on their costumes for the first time and do a run through for Michel Lemaitre. God help them if he didn't like what he saw.

Theo scowled at her now in the midst of the set, his hands on his hips. "I don't believe it yet," he said. "You have to make me believe."

"I don't understand. Believe what?"

"The story. The interaction between the two of us."

Kelsey was puzzled. "It's a man trying to catch a bug."

"It's more than that." Theo sighed, like she was the biggest idiot on the planet. "It's about mistakes and disappointment. About the things we want but shouldn't have. You know," he said, rolling his eyes, "like your friend Wayne."

Kelsey still met with Wayne for dinner a couple times a week. Unlike Theo, who simply took what he wanted from her, Wayne courted her. Wayne made her feel special, worthwhile. He made her feel like a girl on a date, which Theo couldn't be bothered to do.

Theo mocked Wayne mercilessly and fucked her to pieces on the nights Wayne took her out. For his part, Wayne took every opportunity to tear Theo down and pour warnings in her ear about how dangerous and insane Theo was. It amused Kelsey for a while, that they were fighting over her, but now it was getting kind of irritating.

The problem was, while Wayne was perfect boyfriend material, he didn't do much for her emotionally. Or sexually. They hadn't slept together yet, although Wayne had tried putting the moves on her a few times at the Citadel. He just wasn't as exciting to her as Theo. There didn't seem to be much to discover beneath his friendly, charming veneer.

Whereas Theo seemed to reveal more magic to her every hour they spent together.

Oh, really? Magic? Theo was far from a romantic hero. He held her at arm's length, toyed with her, fucked with her mind. Even if Theo would consider getting into a long term relationship with her, it would be so unconventional and scary she'd end up breaking up with him within a week. Theo was the bad boy. The one who couldn't be tamed.

Which was the only reason she wanted him so much. Ugh.

With Wayne, she could picture dating, engagement, marriage, all the things that made sense to her. A wandering life in the circus, offset by the security of their bond to each other. Their very...boring...bond.

"Are you listening to me?" Theo scolded, drawing her back from her thoughts. "Michel is going to be here in"--he looked at his watch--"forty-five minutes. This is your future in Cirque du Monde. And later--" His words cut off, his mouth a tight line.

"Later what?"

"Tonight, later, you've been invited to the back room of the Citadel. To Le Maître's room."

"I have?" Kelsey's heart beat a little faster. "Tonight? What about you?"

"I'll be there too, of course. Don't look so worried. This is why I didn't want to tell you until after the run through. I knew you'd get all panicky."

Kelsey examined her feelings. Was she panicky? She was curious about Michel Lemaitre, just like everyone else, and also flattered that he'd taken an interest in her. He didn't invite many into his inner sanctum. She was sure it was only because of Theo. But the artists Lemaitre took under his wing ended up being the luminaries of the Cirque du Monde world. The ones with the most artistic freedom, with the most say in the development of their acts.

Like Theo. Wayne still insisted Lemaitre had used his far-reaching power and influence to protect one of his favored stars from a murder rap. Kelsey didn't know what to believe. She only knew that if she was summoned, she would go to Lemaitre.

She wanted his power on her side.

They began to practice again. Theo was so effortlessly theatrical as the man on a quest to catch his beautiful butterfly. Kelsey flitted and flew, teasing him until she realized he was stronger than she was. By then it was too late, and her delicate wings were crushed by his ill-fated pursuit.

Kelsey wasn't an idiot. She caught the parallels. When Theo mourned over her broken wings at the end of the act, did he think of Minya? He'd broken her. According to Wayne, he'd killed her, but that couldn't be true. Still, there had to be those who believed it.

Minya's family believed it. Because of them, Theo had been summoned to Paris to talk to investigators yet again. He'd been gone two days and returned distant and taciturn, but cleared of any culpability in the matter. Minya's family had returned to China, their hopes for a scapegoat dashed. It had just been an accident, a horrible accident. Just like the man damaging the butterfly's wings.

Poor Theo. Kelsey wanted to fix him. She cared for him so much.

Part of the reason she hid her emotions from Theo when they performed was because she felt so intensely for him. But now, for this evaluation, to please him, she let them unfold like a butterfly's wings. In character, she attracted his interest, preened under it, flying on her silk during their acrobatic dance of pursuit and evasion. She showed the terror when she was caught, when he slid with her down the silk. She showed her confusion to find herself in the arms of her admirer, suddenly unable to fly when flying had been like breathing her entire life.

As the music drew their act to a haunting close, Kelsey lay in Theo's arms beneath the silks, damaged and broken, while he looked on her in horror. So ended the Cirque du Minuit, a show about humanity's dark compulsion to acquire the things they shouldn't have.

The sadness of the situation settled on her with a new realization, and she looked up at Theo with tears in her eyes. She didn't know if she was crying for them, or crying for the man and the butterfly. Theo stared back, mesmerized for a moment, before his expression hardened back into his businesslike coach persona.

"Okay," he said. "Do it that way for Michel. Emotion. Beauty. It has to be striking. This will be the penultimate moment, the finale of the show."

"I know." Kelsey sat up, dashing away tears. Theo pretended not to notice, and then the costume designer was beckoning to them from the side of the stage.

By the time they reached the costume rooms Kelsey had mostly composed herself. She noted Theo's costume, bright for once. Royal blue pants and a light white cotton shirt. But then the costume director pulled out her costume and she burst into tears again.

"Oh, Kelsey. It's not so bad," said Theo. "It'll look cute on you."

"It's not a butterfly," she said between little sobs.

"I thought this would be better. More fitting for you. More mysterious, to fascinate the man. Butterflies are so trite, Michel wouldn't like it."

A black ladybug costume with red spots. Small delicate wings of formed cellophane. "Don't you like it?" the costumer asked. "I think it will work perfectly in the show."

Kelsey didn't know why she was crying. The black ladybug knew there was nothing wrong with her. That she was just different. Kelsey wanted Theo, ached for him, but she was the red ladybug. Typical. Conventional. She let the costumer tuck her hair into her black ladybug hood with sequined antennae. Kelsey had to pretend to be the rare black ladybug for the act, and after, in the Citadel's back room.

But it was all fake. The truth was, she deserved Wayne, with his wholesome, predictable demeanor and his cloying smile. That thought made her cry even harder. She took a fistful of tissues from the costumer's assistant and escaped to sit in front of a mirror in the adjoining dressing room. This was not the ideal time to fall apart. She breathed in and out, calming her emotions.

Theo showed up at the door a few minutes later. "Okay, Kels?" he asked. "Are you scared?"

Scared? The understatement of the century. When she thought about her future, and Theo's, she was so scared she almost lost her mind.

"Is it time?" she asked. "Is Lemaitre here?"

Theo crossed to her in his light, shiny costume, so unlike what he usually wore. He threaded his fingers under the back of her headpiece and rubbed her neck. "How different you look without your blonde hair."

"Why didn't you tell me you'd changed it from a butterfly to a ladybug?"

"Because I like to surprise you sometimes." He dropped his hand and looked at her in the mirror. "Don't be scared," he said quietly. "You don't have to be. You've got this."

But not you, Kelsey thought to herself. I'll never have you.

* * * * *

Theo preceded her back out to the stage area, unsettled by her tears. He usually knew why she was crying. Hell, he was usually the one who'd made her start. But this time, he wasn't sure what had released her flood of emotion. He also wasn't sure why it had affected him so much. He'd seen a hundred girls cry, and felt nothing.

Fuck.

Silly ladybug costume. It was true that butterflies were too commonplace, too easily symbolic to work for the Cirque. The Cirque du Monde was all about surprising people. It was about asking them questions that had no answers. It was about originality and, in the case of this show, confronting them with the macabre. That night under the stars, Theo realized Kelsey shouldn't be a butterfly at all, but a ladybug.

All children loved to chase ladybugs. He'd caught ladybugs in his youth, played with them until he'd killed them with curiosity. Until they pulled up their tiny legs and sat on his hand and never flew again.

Ah, Kelsey. She walked ahead of him in her fitted black costume with her translucent little wings. Michel was already out in the chairs, seated with the director and some of the coaches from the other acts. The stage was in the center of the massive auditorium, comprised of moving platforms and set pieces and an elaborate system of rigging overhead. It was from this rigging that the silks dangled, rising and falling via electronic controls operated by a technician. The man was already waiting in the tech box with the sound and lights people.

Michel and the others came to talk to Theo and Kelsey and check out their costumes first. For the dress rehearsals and shows, they would have makeup too, but not today. This was just a preliminary critique of the act. Michel would either love it or hate it. He would either offer suggestions and encouragement, or call for the act to be completely scrapped and rebuilt from the ground up. In a vote of severe no-confidence, he might bring in totally new performers.

Theo didn't expect that.

Michel was already exclaiming over Kelsey's shimmering antennae, her wings that caught the light and reflected it like diamonds. "Une coccinelle noire!" he exclaimed. "I love the darkness of it. You will look lovely on the red silks."

Theo studied Kelsey's face. Like the ladybug in their story, she seemed happy and pleased with Michel's attention, not realizing how easily he could hurt her if he chose.

"On y va!" yelled Michel, heading back to the theater seats, and then their act was underway. As the music began, Theo relaxed, just experiencing the moment, the result of so much hard work. Kelsey's emotion was still all on the surface. Her performance was even more compelling than the magic of the earlier run-through. Good girl, he thought in his mind, each time she created a perfect movement, a theatrical sweep and subtle foot loop.

When he finally caught her in his arms at the end, her shock and ambivalence was palpable. So was her fascination. They shared that one tender moment, when he paused, as a character, to appreciate her before he unwittingly maimed her. She played her part with such trusting, vulnerable innocence.

That was when some wall in Theo started to crack. If he could pinpoint the moment in time when he admitted to himself that he would change for her, that he could change for her, that was the moment. Kelsey...

They finished the act. The music wound down, Kelsey crying silent tears in his arms again. The wings, so cleverly designed, looked crumpled and broken now in the glare of the single overhead spotlight. With the end of the music, utter silence. Theo didn't look up. He just swallowed hard and waited.

"Mon dieu," Michel finally whispered in the silence of the cavernous space.

The other staff started chattering in rapid-fire Frenglish. Their act was a success. The theater staff surrounded them, Michel singling him out.

"Your work with Kelsey is amazing! She has really never done silks before?"

"Non," Theo said. "But she's a quick learner. Easy to train."

"Ah," Michel said knowingly. "A good girl, yes? And you'll still bring her to play with me tonight?"

Both men looked over at Kelsey, and she gazed back with a ghost of a smile. Theo was so pleased with her, so proud of her. In love with her, whatever love was.

No, he knew what love was. Love was wanting someone so much that they changed you. She'd been changing him, little by little, from the start.

"Are you sure you want to go tonight?" he asked her as they walked back to the residences.

Kelsey was giddy with her success. "Well, I have to go now. He likes me. Right? I met his standards."

Theo chuckled softly. "That doesn't mean he'll go easy on you. His standards in the back room are even more stringent than his standards in the theater."

"But you think I should go, right? I mean, you've been working with me on dominance and submission all this time."

"Do you enjoy it?" Theo asked. He knew the answer, but somehow it became very important for him to hear it.

"Of course I do." Kelsey slowed down and looked at him. "Why so many questions? Do you think I shouldn't go?"

He stopped and pulled her close, as busy pedestrians passed them on either side. "I just want you to know that you don't have to. I won't be disappointed if you choose not to go. It's your choice."

She looked troubled, and then summoned up a smile. "The old me wouldn't have wanted to go, but you've made me into a bad girl. As long as you're there. But--" Again, a troubled look. "But afterward, you and I will still... I mean, that won't be the end, will it?"

"The end?" Theo asked. "The end of what?"

Kelsey shrugged. "I don't know. The end of what we do together."

Theo released her and started walking again. "I don't see the end coming any time soon. But when it does, there's always Wayne waiting in the wings."

It was a dig, and partly a joke, but he was happy to see a fleeting flash of displeasure cloud her features. The end for them?

Theo couldn't even consider it at this point.

Chapter Twelve: The Back Room

Kelsey felt strangely calm as they threaded their way through the Citadel. It was after midnight already, the party in full swing and rising higher. Theo let her have one drink to build up her courage--the first drink she'd been allowed since the debacle of her first night at Lemaitre's club. She had a few sips of the Citadel Tea and found she was too nervous to swallow it. Theo watched her, silent, offering no words of encouragement and no way out. He'd given her a chance to beg off and she hadn't taken it.

It was too late to reconsider now.

Not that she would. She'd fallen under Lemaitre's spell as much as anyone else in the company. When he'd praised her after the performance, touching her costume wings, taking her hand and shaking it warmly, she'd felt so grateful just to have his attention. His pale blue eyes could be warm and engaging, as much as they could be icy and judging. When he smiled on you, it was like bathing in joy.

But when he was displeased... Kelsey was sure she couldn't bear that, so she was determined to please him.

At one A.M. on the dot, Theo led her down the hall in the back, past the smaller play rooms, past the DJ booth. The pounding of the music faded as they approached a black double door. The other rooms were back rooms. This was The Back Room. There were no security guards, no bouncers, since no one dared trespass here uninvited. Hell, Kelsey was here by invitation, and she was still terrified. Theo led her to a small adjoining space, pointed to a tall oak armoire in the corner, and started to undress.

He had told her about all this. No one wore clothes in Le Maître's room, except for Le Maître, if he wished it. Kelsey knew she had nothing to be ashamed of in her body. She was used to using it, showing it off. But somehow, standing there naked with Theo beside her, she felt like covering up. Theo shook his head and pushed her hands down to her sides.

"Be open to him," he said. "Obey him. Please him. Think about nothing else."

With those blunt and cryptic words, he pushed the door open and they entered a concrete dungeon. There were blue and white lights casting an eerie day/night pall in the room. There were naked bodies everywhere. Naked servers bringing drinks, naked spectators sitting at tables, and the main attraction--Le Maître sitting on a massive chair that looked suspiciously like a throne, with his two nude pets crouched at either knee.

It was a lot of flesh to take in at once. Le Maître himself--Michel Lemaitre in the outside world--was remarkably fit for a middle-aged man. His broad shoulders tapered down to a sculpted chest with a smattering of hair. His cock rested on a thatch of dark fur, formidable even though it was currently flaccid. Kelsey felt a powerful wave of arousal just from the careless way he sat and flaunted his cock. Or maybe it was the servile posture of his pets that had her pussy dampening.

One of them furtively scowled at her. He must have been the one whose ears she'd scratched that night she was drunk. She shot him an apologetic glance as Theo urged her forward. God, so many people staring at her. They were Cirque people, all of them. Some of the faces she recognized. At some unseen signal, three quarters of them got up and left, so it was just her, Theo, Le Maître, a couple servers and a couple other spectators. One of them was Guy Benoit. The other was--

Oh, Jesus. Jason Beck. Kelsey faltered. She could tell from the look on his face that her former coach hadn't expected to see her here any more than she'd expected to see him. For a moment, one tense, drawn out moment, she almost bolted. Then Theo's hand pressed on her back, propelling her forward. "It's okay," he said so quietly she almost couldn't hear him. It's okay. It's okay.

Jason was the one who'd told her about the Citadel. He'd pretty much admitted he played here, and for which team. Why should she be embarrassed? He was here, like her, to exchange power, and to curry favor with Le Maître.

"Is he going to play with me?" Kelsey asked Theo behind her hand. She couldn't even look at him. Jason, her coach, who'd only ever stretched her joints and lectured her about candy…

"Only one person plays in the Back Room, ma chère," answered Theo.

And that person was now giving her his full attention. "Miss Martin. Kelsey. Come here to me. I have so looked forward to this."

With one last glance at Theo, Kelsey walked forward, watching for a sign from Le Maître to kneel, or prostrate herself. God, if he asked her to suck his cock--

But he only pulled her close, between his legs. He searched her eyes as she looked back in horny fascination. His hands were so warm on her, so strong. They ran over her, measuring her, squeezing her ass cheeks and pinching her nipples. She didn't dare look away first and he didn't break eye contact.

Then he put a hand on her lower back and without preliminaries, drove two fingers through the slickness of her pussy right up inside her. She rose on her toes. It wasn't unlike being at the gynecologist, except there she was allowed to lie down in comfort and put her feet up in stirrups. Holy hell.

Just as quickly he released her and reached beside him to produce an oval device. He turned it on and slipped it into a condom, then summarily parted her and thrust the buzzing egg into her pussy. There was an immediate sensation of fullness and arousal, and she barely restrained herself from arching her hips and climbing into his lap. Le Maître watched a moment, then cupped her pussy and pushed the egg even deeper with a rough press of a finger.

"Oh," she said.

"Oh." He laughed, mimicking her. "Oh, what? Oh oui? Oh non?" He traced a finger over her wet, swollen clit, and then she did arch into his hands.

"Oh, please," she breathed.

"Ah. Oh, please. Well, the answer to that is no. This is the extent of the sensation you'll be permitted for the moment, although you are welcome to amuse us by begging for more."

He found all of this entertaining, that was clear. Her anxiety, her impossible horniness. She looked at Theo and then at the handsome pets lounging on either side of Le Maître's chair. How un-self-conscious they were, how relaxed. They were sensuality personified while she felt like a clumsy, horny mess.

Le Maître stood to guide her past Guy and Jason to a chain hanging down from a pulley system a few yards from his chair. She was quickly buckled into soft leather cuffs, which were then pulled up and hooked above so she had to stand up very straight, her hands gripping the chain for balance over her head.

She had a sudden perverse desire to swing from the chain, grasp it in her hands and go for an aerial-silk-type soar around Le Maître's dungeon. She'd try to kick both his male slaves in the process, with their perfect golden bodies and their unfriendly gazes. She barely stifled a giggle at the thought, burying her face for a moment in the crook of her elbow until she composed herself. Le Maître had already turned away from her and left her hanging there, fidgeting from foot to foot.

"Be still," Theo said. "Put your legs together and stand still."

Kelsey obeyed. It was easier to balance with her legs together, but standing in that position also increased the dull buzzing intensity in her pussy. She took in her situation with a kind of wonder. When she'd arrived at the Cirque, she was practically a virgin. Jason was her coach, and Theo was an idol she worshipped from afar. Michel Lemaitre was the faceless, all-powerful boss and owner of the huge contemporary circus she worked for. Yesterday it had left her breathless just to be noticed by him. Now she was chained in his dungeon by leather cuffs, with a vibrator in her pussy, a vibrator he'd placed there himself after groping and finger fucking her.

Across the way, Jason nursed a drink, watching her in a cool, assessing way. Not her eyes. He stared at her body. She knew he wasn't drunk. Theo told her people weren't allowed to play under the influence at the club, so there was no chance he'd be too wasted to remember this in the morning. Well, if he could stare at her, she'd stare at him too. Her eyes moved over his naked, golden body, a body every bit as striking as Theo's and Le Maître's in its sinewy strength. Oh, nice cock, coach. Very impressive. Theo left her to hang there under Jason's regard while he went to confer with Le Maître.

Kelsey should probably have felt something like humiliation, or shame. But no. She was hot as hell and ratcheting up. Her whole pelvis buzzed, her clit swollen and vibrating in a sensual pulse that matched the distant beat of the music.

Le Maître offered Theo a cigarette. With a short glance in her direction, Theo refused. They spoke in rapid-fire French as Le Maître allowed one of his pets to light a slim cigarette for him. Then Le Maître and Theo joined Guy and Jason, and they talked in muted voices for nearly fifteen minutes. Kelsey was still as she could be, only shifting from time to time when her muscles began to ache. Finally, Le Maître parted from the other men, but it wasn't to play with her. She watched, fascinated, as he began to play with his slaves.

The slaves were not effete, nor overly deferential. They were big, virile men of perhaps twenty or twenty-five years, and similar in appearance, down to skin tone, blond tousled hair, piercings in nipples, and identical diamond studs in their aquiline noses. Kelsey silently nicknamed them "the twins" and wondered if Le Maître even bothered to tell them apart.

The men were as graceful as they were muscular, bowing to their Master in what appeared to be a practiced ritual. When one of them knelt at Le Maître's gesture and began to fellate him, Kelsey drew in a long, silent breath. She had never seen anything so overtly, gorgeously sexual. The slave was intently focused, attending to his Master's cock with skilled enthusiasm.

After a few moments the other slave took over, cupping his Master's balls and deep throating his substantial length and width. Another word and subtle gesture, and the unoccupied one crawled around to his Master's back, delicately parting Le Maître's well-defined ass cheeks and using his tongue to tease his hole. The old Kelsey would have been repelled. The new Kelsey squeezed even harder on the egg in her cunt.

Her Master, Theo, watched all this dispassionately, stroking his cock and taking an occasional drink. She couldn't understand how he could be so unaffected. Kelsey was spellbound by the raw sensuality of the scene before her. She'd never seen sex like this before, between men.

In profile, she could see Le Maître thrusting his cock forward into his slave's eager mouth, his abs clenching and twisting as the other slave serviced him from behind. He seemed like a god, all powerful and demanding. She wanted him because of that, wanted his attention, his power. She hated hanging on the side, being made to watch. She hated the weak teasing of her pussy walls, riling her up just enough to make her need more. Theo smiled over at her as she clenched her legs even tighter. Maybe...maybe if I just squeeze hard enough... But no. Orgasm was intentionally placed just beyond her reach. She didn't smile back.

Soon after, Le Maître climaxed with a theatrical roar and forceful thrust. Only then did he look over at Kelsey, and he chuckled as he blew out his breath. He returned to the men's table, muttering something to Theo. They all chatted in French some more, too quietly for Kelsey to eavesdrop.

God, I'm so horny. Please fuck me. If she could have, she would have jumped on her tall, strong Master and had her way with him. From the gestures and the French she caught, Kelsey thought Le Maître might have offered the use of his slaves to Theo, but he declined. If Le Maître took offense, he didn't show it. Kelsey wondered if Theo did sometimes make use of those two blond men, and felt a pang of jealousy. She could never live up to their level of uninhibited skill. Even though she knew Theo to be straight, on this debauched night, nothing seemed sure.

Instead of Theo then, the slaves were instructed to satisfy one another. They did--wrestling, fondling, biting, caressing one another. Kelsey had never seen men have intercourse before, not in person, and certainly not such male specimens as these. She couldn't stop staring, couldn't stop drinking in the unleashed carnality.

Their muscular bodies moved together in a sensuous, undulating dance, while Le Maître barked commands for them in Russian, further eroticizing the tableau. The slaves were always quick to comply, changing positions at their Master's whim. When one of the slaves started drilling the other from behind, hard and rough, Kelsey moaned out loud. She was so hungry for cock--any cock, anywhere--to replace the devilish device inside her.

Her moan must have been louder than she intended. Theo and Le Maître both turned to regard her. Le Maître flicked some ashes from his cigarette in her direction and said something to Theo. Her Master came over and unhooked her from the chain, guiding her down to sit on her heels.

"Go on," he said. "Touch yourself if you like. Just don't come."

All the men burst into laughter, ostensibly at the peeved expression on her face. She fisted her hands in her lap, determined not to be turned on at all. She wasn't finding this amusing, not any of it. Theo left her again, with some quiet words to Le Maître. The slave men fell away from one another, spent. Satisfied. Unlike her.

Le Maître turned and waved his hand at her. "Go on. Masturbate, horny little girl. Just because you cannot come does not mean you cannot amuse us in your frustration."

Kelsey stared at her lap, biting back words that would certainly, definitely get her in trouble.

"Ha, look at her, Theo," Le Maître said. "So stubborn. Perhaps she tries to teach us a lesson."

Kelsey shook her head. "I just don't want to make it worse. If I can't come, there's no use getting myself even hotter."

Le Maître's face grew hard and angry. "Come. Now. Crawl right here." He pointed to a spot on the floor before him. Oh shit, she was in trouble now. She crossed, feeling awkward on her hands and knees, lacking the grace of his golden slave boys. When she got close enough, Le Maître grabbed her arm and pulled her sideways.

"Kneel up. Spread your knees apart. Now look at me." She did, feeling heat flare and suffuse her cheeks. One of the slaves smirked at her for just a split second before his gaze returned to the floor. Theo watched her with a steady, appraising look, apparently having ceded possession of her to Le Maître for the moment. Or perhaps forever. All she knew was that he wasn't going to interfere with his boss and come to her defense. Le Maître frowned at her, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"I have seen your type before. You are beautiful, but your submission is selfish. You submit because it feels good to you. I am sorry to tell you, this is not submission. This is taking only what you want. If you submit, your concern must be what I want. Not what you want."

His eyes bored into hers, hard and intent. Her skin felt cold and yet she burned beneath his unwavering focus. She knew his words were true. Theo had taught her the same thing, and she tried...she tried. She intended submission, but when her body took over...

Within her, the vibrator hummed along, stimulating her--but not enough. Her pelvis tingled and the urge to touch herself, to masturbate to oblivion, was nearly overpowering. She was trapped between need and satisfaction. She longed for peace, and yes, free will. Free will to satisfy herself. Free will to take what she wanted. No. Submit. Submit. "Wh--what is it you want?" she asked with a feeling of dread.

"Your submission," Le Maître snapped. "This is not a difficult concept." He looked at Theo and again the men began to speak French with great intensity. Jason and Guy joined in too. They spoke so quickly she couldn't pick out any of their words, except for Theo's thoughtful oui, oui, oui at the end. She hung her head, her stomach in knots. Obviously Theo agreed with whatever nasty things Le Maître was saying about her. Le Maître returned his attention to her. His voice, when he spoke, was gentle.

"You are new to this, yes? Submission must be learned. Like acrobatics, like theater. Like aerial silks, you must practice and train. So we will train, you and I. Every night, after rehearsal, you come to my office and I will bend you over my desk and fuck your asshole. You will gain no pleasure from this except the pleasure of submitting to my will. You will be returned to your Master to service him orally, and put to bed without the opportunity to satisfy yourself. Yes?"

He looked to Theo for agreement, not her, and Theo agreed without even looking at her for a reaction. The idea of it made her spitting mad. Being consulted over, and singled out for this punishing treatment. How completely depraved. How fucking hot. If she'd wanted to masturbate to orgasm a few minutes earlier, now she was absolutely rabid to come. She fisted her hands for fear she would not be able to stop herself. Le Maître watched knowingly, and she was certain he knew every nuance of her thoughts.

"A week of this, of denying your own pleasure for mine, and you will have a new outlook on submission. This will be difficult, and yet you will be happy. You understand, girl?"

"Yes, Master."

"Now, thank me for taking time out of my busy schedule for this training." He scowled at her and reached to stroke the hair of one of the perfectly sculpted men at his knee.

"Thank you, Master. Thank you for offering to train me--"

"It is not an offer," he interrupted sharply. "You have no say in it."

Kelsey floundered, anxious to say the words that would satisfy the man before her. It was impossible to concentrate with the egg inside her vibrating her to distraction. She still clenched at the device for fear it would slip out of her dripping walls and fall with a buzzing thump onto the floor. She could already imagine the twins laughing at such a lapse. More likely they would glare at her, disgusted at her inept servitude.

The one who'd scowled at her earlier was caressing Le Maître's cock with a look of pure adoration on his face. That look did more to illuminate the concept of submission than an entire year of being assfucked by Le Maître. She drew a deep breath and tried again.

"Thank you for training me in true submission, Master. I need it."

"You need it?" he asked with a dangerously arched eyebrow.

"No..." Damn! "I--I wish to be more pleasing--more submissive for you, and for my Master. I want to understand deep submission. Thank you for helping me find this...understanding."

"Better." He sniffed and looked at Theo.

Her Master shrugged. "She will learn."

Le Maître sniggered and the men conferred again in rapid French, punctuated by suggestive laughter. Theo pulled her up by one arm and reached to grope between her thighs. Finally, the pestering vibrator was gone, but rather than relief, she felt anxiety. Theo nudged her toward Le Maître and she nearly stumbled. The fluffing slave moved to the side, so Kelsey got a clear view of Le Maître's cock standing up straight and thick between his parted legs. The other pet assisted him with a rubber, and she realized she was soon to be impaled on that staff. Like, within moments.

Le Maître reached for her, and even his grasp seemed to possess a kind of electric force that took her breath away. He turned her and settled her on his lap facing outward, pulling her close against him. One arm snaked around her front. The other fisted his cock and drove it up against her pussy. She moaned as he pressed in, his thick member a shocking ache as he stretched her.

She'd wanted this, wanted it since she saw his cock on display when they entered. As he took her, she was acutely aware that everyone watching could see her breasts and tight nipples, and the horny expression on her face. He grasped her hips and forced her down on him, making her wetter still. Her clit ached, her whole body ached for satisfaction. She reached to touch herself only to have her hand slapped away.

"Naughty girl." Her soft whimper of frustration was met by chuckles. She glanced at the table to find Guy and Jason masturbating. Theo only watched, sitting still.

"Ah, I love gymnast asses," Le Maître crooned. "So hard and round. You beautiful girl. Fucking your ass will be a dream. Tomorrow, I'll be inside you, girl. Here." He thrust a finger into her tiny hole, a blunt, unsettling invasion. He bit her shoulder as he pulled her closer, jamming his finger even deeper inside her. She arched and wriggled, feeling helpless and utterly submissive to him.

You may not come. This is not about you. She was being used. She was being enjoyed by him. She was his animal, his creature. She felt like one of those otherworldly beings who peopled the Cirque's many productions. She wasn't herself anymore, but some lucky exotic pet with his cock filling her pussy and his finger roughly plumbing her asshole.

Le Maître smelled of sex and rich cologne, a strange bittersweet scent. He was casting a spell, and she was so caught up in it that she pushed down her wildly flaring arousal. Submit. Submit to him. She heard his voice rumble against her ear as he lifted his head and drew his finger from her ass. "Come, Theo. Take her asshole and we will fill her up. Both of us."

Perhaps she tensed. Perhaps she moaned. Le Maître lifted her from his cock and turned her to face him. He looked into her eyes as he arranged her on his lap, voicing a stern warning. "You may not come. You understand, girl? One week."

"Yes. Yes, Master." Her response sounded like a plea. He smiled and stroked her cheek as he pulled her forward and thrust into her again.

"It's hard, no? You want to come."

"Yes, very badly."

"But you are not going to. There will be consequences for disobedience, ma mignonne." He punctuated that gently spoken threat with a deep stroke of his cock. She felt Theo's warmth as he stood behind her, and cringed as he parted her ass cheeks, stroking cold lube along the cleft. Again, the quick, unsettling prod of a finger against her tightly resisting ring. She knew she had to relax, but her whole body was quivering with dread and desire. Don't come. Don't come...

"Not too much, Theo," Le Maître murmured. "Do not ease the way too much."

No, not too much. Please. If it hurt, she might be able to head off the massive, mounting orgasm twitching just beyond the reach of her determination. Le Maître grasped her waist and held her still, so she was pressed hard onto his cock. She held her breath, transported by all the sensations--his length touching her womb, his hands holding her trapped as Theo nudged the head of his cock against her ass. Le Maître shook her a little.

"Breathe, silly girl. If you pass out, we'll still fuck you. But it's more fun if you're awake."

"But--oh--" She groaned as Theo breached her and began to slide in. "If I-- If I'm awake-- I know I'll come."

"No, don't come. Concentrate. Think about what I want. That's submission." Le Maître stared into her eyes as he eased out of her, still holding her in an iron grasp. At the same time, Theo slid all the way deep into her ass. "Think about what we want," Michel amended in a low voice. "Two men using you, taking their pleasure. Your warm, tight holes perfectly formed for us. You are ours." He pressed her down on his cock again just as Theo pushed forward. She shuddered at the feeling of fullness, the feeling of abandoned lust and sex. Theo held her from behind, snaking fingers around to caress and pinch her nipples. She arched back to him, steeling herself against the heat that shot from her breasts straight to her clit. He pinched her harder, growling in a low, carnal voice.

"No..." she whispered. "Please."

Le Maître chuckled and gave her a few quick thrusts. She bounced in his lap, braced from behind by the stiff cock in her bottom. The two men began to move in tandem, filling her, leaving her, and filling her again. She closed her eyes as they slid their hands over her in blazing trails of mastery. She didn't know who squeezed, who pinched or scratched her, who twisted her nipples until she cried out in hoarse alarm. She only knew that it felt too good, that it felt too powerfully erotic to survive. Her orgasm was growing and expanding to the point she couldn't call it back.

She stifled a scream as her body contracted around the two cocks that impaled her. Hands covered her mouth and she heard more laughter. She endured another torturous pinch of both nipples as she writhed on the two rigid shafts within her. The pain only intensified her pleasure and panic, and she struggled against the hands that held her. She felt Le Maître jerk beneath her as Theo thrust balls-deep in her ass and groaned against her hair. The pulsing of the men's tight-fitting cocks inside her triggered still more climactic aftershocks, so by the time she came to rest against Le Maître's heaving chest, she was completely wrung out.

Theo's cock slipped from her ass. He knelt behind her and ran fingers up her back, making her shiver against Le Maître's warm, furred chest. Le Maître slid gentle fingers into her hair, then grasped the roots in a brutal fist. She tried to pull away but he only gripped her hair harder.

"You may be tired and satisfied, chérie, but your night is not over. I gave you instructions, yes, girl?"

Kelsey's heart beat wildly. He was hurting her, hurting her--

"No! Yes! Yes, Master!" She tried to fight through the post-orgasm haze, through the pain of him yanking her hair from her scalp. "Yes, Master. You told me not to come. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I tried not to! It felt so good-- My body--"

"You submissives always blame your bodies. As if you do not control this body of yours." He squeezed the tip of one rigidly erect nipple. Even this aroused her. Her pussy clamped down on his still-hard cock and she made a faint whining sound for mercy. His grip tightened until she howled and struggled off his lap. She nearly fell but for the fingers wrapped in her hair. A crisp torrent of French, and one of his slave men scurried forward to remove his condom. She lost track of him as another came forward with a pair of clover clamps. The pet looked down at her from beneath a sweep of blond lashes.

Le Maître called to the men at the table. "Gentleman, help me hold this bad little girl so she doesn't end up injuring herself."

Guy took one of her arms, Theo the other. Jason still hung back, watching, but not unaroused. God, aroused, really. She'd never thought of him that way, as a sexual being, a dominant, but he was definitely getting off on her plight. Le Maître stepped in front of her and flicked her nipples, applying the clamps in two sharp bursts of pain. Still, still, even after her forbidden orgasm, she was turned on beyond bearing. Her breasts tortured her, Le Maître's reproving tsks shamed her, and two men were holding her trapped for God knew what punishment, and still she would have fucked any one of them on a dime. She was that far gone.

But then Le Maître took a coiled-up whip off the wall. It wasn't some BDSM toy. It looked like a real stock whip, something you'd use to drive cattle. Something you'd use to torture someone. Kelsey gasped and struggled to pull away. She gazed at Theo in entreaty and his nearly imperceptible nod of reassurance was the only thing that saved her from complete breakdown.

Le Maître disappeared behind her, and she heard a deafening crack. She waited for the slice, the excruciating contact, but felt nothing. A practice strike. She relaxed in relief, so when the pain actually came a moment later, the contact under her left shoulder blade, she was taken by surprise. It was a lick of fire, unbearable sting. She pulled at the hands holding her, but they were too strong. Another crack on her right ass cheek almost took the legs from under her. She tried to twist away, knowing she couldn't bear that fiery pain again.

"No...no..."

Theo made her turn and stand straight. Before she could brace, the lash fell on her left buttock, and then again on the right side of her upper back. She sobbed, terrified. The noise alone was punishment enough, but the pain... She almost collapsed in relief as Le Maître walked across to the wall to return the whip.

The men let her go, and Le Maître came to stand before her, his eyes hard as stones. Four aching points on her back and buttocks throbbed as she quaked under his gaze. "The first thing I'll ask when you come to me each day, little girl, is whether or not you have submitted yourself to my will and left your juicy little clit and pussy unsatisfied. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," Kelsey sobbed.

"If the answer is no, what do you imagine will happen to you?"

Kelsey shook her head, speechless. Tears of fright ran down her face. She didn't even want to guess.

"Let me put it this way, mignonne. The punishment you just received is a warning, nothing more. A small fraction of the pain I can deliver to a submissive in need of correction." He removed the nipple clamps, ignoring her gasps of pain and looking down his nose at her. "I promise, you will learn this lesson either way. And now, my naughty little one, you may leave with your Master. I will see you in my office tomorrow at five o'clock."

With those words, he turned and beckoned to his pets again, and returned to his chair. He didn't look her way again, not even a glance, as Theo led her from the room.

* * * * *

Theo guided Kelsey back to the dressing room outside the double door. He could feel her shivery panic through his fingertips. He drew her gently into his arms, holding her trembling form. She'd been so frightened. He was proud of her, her bravery and fortitude in the face of her fears.

"Okay," he said, holding her close. "It's over. You're okay."

"Am I-- Am I bleeding?"

Theo ran his fingers over her back. "There are barely any marks."

Kelsey shuddered. "It felt like he was leaving marks."

"It's the sound," Theo explained. "It makes it seem worse than it really is. I wouldn't have let him make you bleed. He wouldn't have anyway."

"It hurt though," Kelsey said. "It really hurt!"

"I know. I know it hurt. You handled yourself beautifully."

She broke away from him, bursting into another torrent of tears. "How can you say that? He was disgusted with me. I made him so angry."

Theo took her face in his hands, brushing aside her tears. "Listen to me. What just happened was a scene. It wasn't real. It was play. Fantasy." Theo had warned her Michel would play hard with her. Somewhere along the line it must have started to feel real. "This is what he does, Kelsey. I've watched him with a lot of women and a lot of men. He liked you very much. He enjoyed you very much. To arrange to meet with you for a week? This is practically a marriage proposal in his world. You should be very proud."

"But I failed!" Kelsey said. "I wasn't submissive enough. I came without permission. He thinks I need more training--"

He put a finger over her lips. "Translated: This girl really excites me and I want to play with her some more. It's a great privilege, a great opportunity."

"To have my ass fucked by him every day for a week?"

"I can name about thirty men and women offhand in the company who would die for that chance. To meet with him alone in his office. To be the focus of his attention. It's an opportunity to get closer to him. And believe me, he'll make it a pleasure for you."

"But I won't be allowed to come. For a whole week!"

"Still," Theo said, smirking. "You'll enjoy it all the same."

Her trembling had subsided, replaced by a kind of sub drop. He needed to get her tucked safely away in bed before she dropped much further. "Come on, let's get you into your clothes."

He had to practically dress her, and help her put in her earplugs, because her hands were shaking too much. "Do you want that drink now?" he asked as they made their way back through the club.

"I just want to go home. I want to sleep. And I still want to come...Theo..."

Theo gave her a pitying look. He couldn't imagine how she would suffer, sexually tormented and teased all week and left unfulfilled. Oh well, that was why she got off on being a submissive. She liked pain and suffering. And Theo knew Michel would give her a just reward if she could survive his challenge.

One week. Poor girl.

At the residence, she pulled away from him in the foyer. "I want to go to my room. I want to be alone."

"No, you come to my place."

He led her up the stairs. They ran into Wayne on the landing. He spun to look at Kelsey. "What the hell? You okay, Kels?"

Theo cursed at him in French and told him to mind his own business, and true to his wimp nature, Wayne did, scowling at Theo as he took himself off.

In his room, Theo dragged Kelsey into the shower, then wrapped her in a blanket and held her another little while. He got up at one point to make coffee for himself, and brought her a sugar straw. She held it but didn't eat it. Theo carried her to the bed, the sugar straw still clutched in her fist, and nestled her under the covers. She was restless, fighting sleep.

"Do you have any questions?" he asked, stroking her arm.

She thought a moment. "Is Michel gay or straight? In real life?"

"Michel is…heteroflexible. But he prefers male slaves. They're less squeamish when it comes to the things he likes. They can also take more pain."

"Have you ever had sex with him, Theo?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I just do."

"I haven't. I'm not his type." He kissed her forehead and then nuzzled her cheek. "Would you be jealous if I had sex with Michel?"

She looked at him with those sleepy blue eyes, and asked a very direct question. "Were you jealous that he had sex with me?"

Theo never lied. He gazed back at her and said, "Yes."

Chapter Thirteen: Submission

Kelsey woke with a headache, naked and tangled in Theo's arms. She was holding a bent Licky Stick which she vaguely remembered Theo giving to her. Well, if he'd given it to her, it was fair game. She ripped off the top and tilted it into her mouth. Ugh, sugar straws and morning mouth didn't mix. Her jaw constricted and she almost choked, spewing powder out of her mouth. She was tempted to lick it back up off his blanket, but resisted. What a waste of a rarely given treat.

God, she was a mess. How had she gotten herself into this? She was cruelly restricted from her favorite candy, and if she recalled the events of the night before accurately, she was also restricted from orgasming for a week. A week.

And you love that, Kelsey. Yep, she could masturbate right now just thinking about it. Oh, but...she couldn't.

She moaned softly and Theo came awake beside her. "I won't survive this," she sighed against his neck.

He took her empty candy wrapper and flicked it across the room. "I have faith in you. You'll be alive and well a week from today, and I'll be giving you zillions of orgasms to reward your devotion to your Master's desires." The way he said "zillions" with his French accent made her smile through her bleak mood.

"Do you mean my Master Michel, or my Master Theo?"

He shrugged and pinched her nipples. "Does it really matter? You'll be getting cock from both of us, and nothing in return."

They headed in to rehearse at the usual hour, and everything seemed reassuringly normal after the strangeness of the night before. It was the circus; there were no secrets. If anyone had gossiped about her foray into the Back Room, everyone would know by lunchtime. Kelsey decided she didn't care.

She was focused completely on Theo, on their act. The silks felt natural to her now, the strain and stretch in her muscles an enjoyable challenge rather than a trial. In rehearsals, Theo became so much more to her than her lover, her Master. He was an artist. He was patient and expressive. He was strong and agile and effortlessly skilled. She dreamed about his hands sometimes, their strength and the way his fingers felt as they clenched around hers. His hands sometimes felt like her whole world.

They were practicing in the air now, high, at fifty feet. In a few weeks time they would be flying together over thousands of spectators in the round. Cirque du Minuit would become a regular show, staged and set. It would be performed eight times a week, and she and Theo would be a great part of it, the final showpiece of many breathtaking and dramatic acts.

They worked out and practiced a little more after lunch, and then Kelsey started to get nervous about the meeting to come. I will see you in my office tomorrow at five o'clock. She'd never been to Lemaitre's Marseille office. She'd have to leave early in case she got lost. She always seemed to find trouble when she got lost. At four o'clock Theo told her to go shower, and that he'd see her at home.

This time, she had to face Le Maître alone.

She was showered, dressed, and ready to go by four-twenty. Great. That left ten minutes to find his office and another half hour to wait, getting more and more nervous.

"Kelsey?"

She spun in the hall to find herself face to face with Jason Beck. Most awkward encounter ever. He looked different to her now. Oh, he had the same clean-cut good looks, the same casual coach demeanor. But she saw other things in his eyes now. A hint of erotic assessment she hadn't noticed before. She laughed nervously.

"Imagine meeting you here."

Jason smiled. "I was down for a few days from Paris, checking out some of the acts, working with a few of the tumblers. I was going to look you up and see how you were doing." His expression grew pained for a moment. "Kelsey...last night... I didn't know you were going to be there. I'm sorry if my presence created any...additional discomfort for you."

Kelsey really laughed then. It was so ridiculous, his apology, his formality after last night's events. "I was..." She practically choked on her laughter. "I was so uncomfortable most of the time, I don't know that you could have made it any worse."

Jason laughed too, and then they were hugging each other like old times. After a moment, they collapsed on a nearby bench. Jason gazed over at her with the usual note of recrimination, but some admiration too.

"You don't do things halfway, Kelsey," he finally said. "You've got Theo at your feet, and now Lemaitre."

Kelsey shook her head. "No. Neither one of them is at my feet. I don't think so."

He gave her a searching look. "Last night... You really were enjoying it, weren't you? If I thought you weren't, I would have stepped in. Fuck Michel and Theo. I would have stopped them."

"I wanted to be there," she said. "I mean, I was scared and freaked out in the moment, but... I really like it, Jason. The dominance and submission. The power exchange, the whole fantasy underworld. I know you were trying to warn me away from it."

"Maybe I underestimated your strength. Because, as you saw, they don't do it halfway around here." He leaned forward on his knees and took a deep breath. "But you know, you can always walk away if you want. Theo is a pretty intense guy, and Lemaitre--"

"I know."

"There's always a way out. You're not a real slave, not to them or anyone else. You do all this by choice." He gave her a look. "Right, Kelsey?"

She took his hand and squeezed it. "You were always a great coach. A little overbearing, but…"

"Hey!"

"All good coaches are. Oh, guess what? I'm off the Licky Stix."

"Really?"

"Theo took them away from me when I made him stop smoking."

Jason stared. "You made Theo stop smoking? Jesus, I've missed a lot. So much craziness down here in Marseille."

They shared another good laugh. It was a relief to know the night before hadn't done anything to threaten their closeness. "How long before you head back to Paris?" she asked.

Jason looked at his watch. "About five minutes. I know you have an appointment to make." He paused. "I could offer a little more coaching, but…"

"Awkward."

"Yeah." He brushed his thumb across the back of her hand and let it go. "If you ever need anything, Paris isn't that far away."

"I know, Jason. Thank you.

"Now," he said. "You'd better get moving. You don't want to know what he'll do to you if you're late."

* * * * *

Kelsey suffered the indignity of being made to wait outside Le Maître's office for him to sodomize her. His secretary shot her occasional glances. It's the circus. Everyone knows. Maybe the secretary didn't know. Her glances were more concerned than lurid. Kelsey probably broadcast quite a bit of nerves.

She was dressed in a sedate black dress and a cardigan sweater with little bows. Underneath her dress she wore black thigh high stockings and pink satin panties with polka dots. She didn't have a lot of fancy clothes. But then, it wasn't like he was taking her out to dinner.

The secretary took a call and then looked up at Kelsey.

"Mademoiselle, Monsieur Lemaitre will see you now."

Kelsey looked at the clock. Five on the dot. She thanked the secretary in a choked whisper and let herself through the frosted glass door. Michel Lemaitre didn't look up or stop working on the document in front of him. Kelsey waited by the wall, her hands clasped before her, and studied him.

Even in his tailored suit, behind a desk, he embodied the power and charisma of the organization he fronted. The power and charisma of the man she'd known last night. His fingers tapped quickly at his laptop, his blazing eyes intensely focused. Finally, after five minutes or so, he looked up at her.

Her knees felt wobbly. One glance from the man sent her tumbling into subspace, all the scenes and interaction of the night before crowding her memories. "Come, Miss Martin," he said. "Stand before me."

Kelsey walked over, sucking in a deep breath. Lemaitre--or Le Maître as she thought of him now--stood to his full height, a foot above her. He tilted her chin up and held it between firm fingers. His eyes met hers and she was so relieved she had nothing to confess. And she wouldn't have anything to confess, not all week. She couldn't bear the terror.

"Have you made yourself come? Have you given yourself pleasure since we spoke last?"

She was already shaking her head. "No. No, Master."

"Have you wanted to?"

Oh, God. "Yes, Master." She wanted to right now. He stirred up so many emotions in her. Arousal, shame, agitation, worshipful lust. "I--I wanted to, but I didn't."

His eyes softened a bit then, roved over her face. "Because you wanted to be a good girl. Because submissive girls obey and put Master's wants first."

It wasn't a question, so Kelsey didn't answer. He reached down and pushed a hand up her skirt. His fingers slid inside her panties, exploring her slick warmth. He made a sound and she shifted to give him more access. She was so wet--it was humiliating. He looked at her thoughtfully. "How difficult it must be for you. And the week is only beginning."

Her vision blurred. Her lips started to tremble. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to grind against his hand, to relieve the sexual tension tormenting her. But that would have defeated the purpose of all this. She shouldn't even be having these thoughts. She was a failure.

"What's the matter, ma petite?" he asked, still teasing her clit.

"This is...this is just so hard. I want to be good, but...what if I can't do it?"

"As I said, it takes practice. And you have to want it, really want it."

She nodded, too overcome to speak. He ran his fingers across her dampened cheeks.

"These tears...they are ungodly beautiful. How does Theo deal with you when you cry?"

Kelsey swallowed hard. "He--he ignores me."

"Ah. He is a heartless beast. He doesn't deserve your devotion. But when do we ever? Come."

Apparently the time for talk was finished. He turned her toward the door and bent her face down over his desk, pushing up the skirt of her dress. He pulled her panties down to rest against the tops of her stockings, and gave her ass a little slap. "You gymnasts," he murmured. "What an ass."

She heard the sounds of his belt unbuckling, his pants dropping to the floor. The tearing of a condom wrapper, and the cap of a bottle flipped open. "Open your cheeks for me," he said. "Hold them open until I'm inside. You must let me in, mignonne. It will hurt more if you resist."

"Yes, Master."

Theo had taught her that, but then Theo was not quite as large. She reached back in horny, abject humiliation to spread her cheeks. Tears leaked from her eyes, soaking Le Maître's desk. He spread lube against her hole, working it in with rough fingers. It already hurt. Before she could panic, his hand was on her back, holding her still, his other hand pressing his cock forward.

She braced and panted through the pain. He went slowly, letting her adjust, but it felt terrifying, like being split in two. At the height of the torment, when the head of his cock was fully breaching her, she cried out in misery. He pulled her hair back and chided her. "Hush. You must be grateful I'm being gentle with you. Thank me properly."

"Thank you, Master," she gasped. "For being gentle with me."

"Does it feel good, girl?"

"No, Master."

"Excellent."

Those were the last words they exchanged. He took her hands and trapped them at her back and rode her ass, in and out, in and out, for what felt like ten minutes. When she started to whimper from the sore ache, he added more lube and kept going. Finally, she heard him gasp and sigh, and drive into her with sudden violence. She went still, impaled by his cock, feeling the tremors of his body against the backs of her thighs. And God...oh God. She was so turned on at that moment.

Le Maître pulled out. "Stay," he ordered. He disappeared into the bathroom and returned a minute later to yank up her panties and pull down her skirt. She felt sticky and dirty as he drew her upright again. "Tomorrow at five o'clock, Miss Martin. In the meantime, don't forget the lesson you're supposed to be learning."

As if she could. She walked home and took a long, hot shower. Her hands made fists to resist touching herself. What he'd done to her hadn't felt good, but she was turned on from the perversity of it, the objectification. She had survived the first encounter with Le Maître, but that was about all she had to be thankful for. Theo forced her to eat dinner although she had no appetite, and over dinner, made her relate her entire experience in Le Maître's office. By the end he was rock hard and Kelsey was horny again too.

Theo pulled her into his lap and parted her thighs. He slid his finger along her wet slit, teasing her until she begged him to have mercy. She didn't want to confess to Le Maître tomorrow that she'd given in to her own pleasure. "But I do this for my pleasure," Theo had explained. "If you come from it, that's your problem. Think. Concentrate on your Master's desire, not your own cravings."

It was so easy for him to say. She begged and pleaded so piteously that he finally relented and pushed her to her knees. He came fast in her mouth, in a white-hot heat, so Kelsey was still simmering when he tucked her beside him in bed. She cried against his shoulder, thrusting her hips against his side in helpless need. He pushed her away and told her to behave. The ache was so strong, like a living thing inside her demanding to be heard. She remembered the feel of Le Maître bending her over, the pain of him pressing into her ass, and Theo's gleeful stroking of her swollen clit. She finally fell into a restless sleep.

The next day, all she could think of was her appointment at five o'clock. When she went into his office, Le Maître gave her the same firm questioning.

"Have you been a good girl? Have you given in to your own need for pleasure?"

"No, Master," she said, already in tears. "But--But I can't survive this. Last night-- I couldn't sleep-- I so...so strongly want to come."

"Pauvre petite. But you can't, can you?"

Her fresh outburst of tears landed on his desk as he bent her over. He was less patient--and less gentle--the second time.

By the last day, she was in tears before the secretary even let her in. Kelsey had tried, without success, to just shut down the sexual side of herself, but it was hopeless. Oh, how she suffered, and each time, Le Maître's insensitivity to her plight disturbed her just a little more. One last time, he bent her over, thrusting lube into her asshole as she held her cheeks apart. By now, the pain was familiar, the stretch and burn of his cock just one more trial to live through before the end. She cried as he held her hands and fucked her, in, out, in, out.

"Who do you serve?" Le Maître asked her, driving deep.

"My Master," Kelsey answered automatically. "I serve my Master's pleasure."

"What about your pleasure?" he asked with a grunt.

"That depends on my Master's desires."

"Do you think your Master will let you come tonight, Kelsey?"

"I hope so," she whimpered as he pounded against her ass.

"But if he doesn't, what will you do, little one?"

She was crying so hard she could barely get the words out. "I'll wait for my Master's pleasure. I'll wait until it pleases him to give me permission to come."

Le Maître went stiff inside her, buried to the hilt. "Yes, you will," he sighed as he climaxed in her ass with a series of pulses. He ran a hand up her back, then down over her ass cheeks. He squeezed them, rocking his cock in her. "I'll miss these instructional sessions," he said. "Perhaps I can give some refresher lessons if you ever again forget your place."

"Yes, Master," Kelsey whispered.

Le Maître withdrew, leaving her as empty and unsatisfied as ever. She didn't move, awaiting his instruction. He left her while he went to clean up, then he returned and picked up his phone's receiver. He had a conversation in French, and she knew it was with Theo. She heard a few words she recognized. The word for "good," the word for "finished." It was over. It was over. He hung up, turned back to her, and stripped her of her panties. He stood her up and pulled down her dress.

"Run along home. Theo is waiting to reward you for your superlative submission." Kelsey blinked, barely believing the words. "Well, go, coccinelle. I will keep these," he said, holding up her panties, "so they don't get in the way."

Kelsey actually ran. It was a chilly fall day, but she ran, her jacket falling off her shoulders, her hose slipping down her thighs. She ran upstairs, passing by Wayne and waving off his invitation to dinner. "Later!" she yelled.

She beat on Theo's door. He opened it wearing nothing but a smile. "I heard you were a good girl," he said. She threw her arms around his neck, jumping up to straddle his waist. He kissed her, but then she pulled away.

"If-- If it pleases you, Master-- Only if it pleases you--"

He pressed his forehead to hers. "It pleases me, beautiful girl." He turned and took her down to the bed. She was nearly sobbing with the need to have him, to feel his cock slide deep inside her. He pinched her nipple hard, toyed with her clit. "You please me," he whispered, thrusting in her deep. "You please me. You please me..." Kelsey heard nothing but the instantaneous, screaming orgasm ripping through her, taking her apart. Theo tensed over her, waiting.

"Again?" he asked. "Kelsey, you want?"

Again, and again. Yes, she wanted. Five times in a row he made her come, and then she rested, exhausted, in his arms. The next day they stayed in with Lemaitre's blessing. Theo fucked her over and over, and held her, and kissed her until she forgot who she was, until she forgot any world outside his bedroom.

I serve my Master's pleasure. Always. Forever. I'm yours.

Chapter Fourteen: Lies

After that, life returned to normal for a while. Michel Lemaitre left Marseille for Paris as the Cirque du Minuit troupe geared up for the final weeks before the premiere. Guy pulled the whole company together for rehearsals, and Kelsey still felt a little twinge of embarrassment when he singled her out with his gaze. Wayne continued simultaneously trying to date her while making her feel like shit. He cornered her in the kitchen shortly after her week of "training" with Lemaitre to ask if the rumors were true.

Kelsey gave him a look. "Of course they're true, Wayne. How could anyone make something like that up?"

Wayne looked horrified. "I can't believe it. Theo didn't defend you from him?"

Kelsey couldn't think of a simple way to explain it all, so she just said, "That's not how scenes like that usually go."

"What would your mother think, Kels?"

She clapped her hands over her ears. "Please! Don't talk about my mother right now. Gosh, just--"

"Well, I wouldn't have let Michel Lemaitre anywhere near my ass. He's gay, you know. Who knows how many guys he's slept with? He could have AIDS."

Kelsey rolled her eyes. "I'm not talking about this with you anymore." She reached into the refrigerator to poke around for the pineapple she was after. Wayne closed the door and grabbed her arm.

"Hey!"

"I can't believe you've let them make you into this...thing. This person you are now is not the Kelsey I used to know."

"I haven't let anyone do anything to me. I do what I want."

"I've known you since you were a little spitfire at the Laguna gym. What happened to you? To that wonderful girl you were then?"

"That 'wonderful girl'?" Kelsey laughed. "You never even acknowledged I existed. Don't rewrite our history now in some attempt to shame me. I'm not ashamed, not of myself, not of my relationship with Theo."

"Relationship?" Wayne snickered. "Do you know the things he says about you behind your back? Do you know what people say about both of you?" Kelsey went cold. It wasn't true. She knew it wasn't true. Wayne's gaze was dark. "It's probably better if you don't know what people say."

Kelsey looked down at his grasp on her arm. It wasn't true. Jesus, she had to get away from Wayne. Theo was right. He wasn't her friend. "There are a lot of girls here, Wayne," she said, shaking off his grip. "If my choices disappoint you so much, why are you still sniffing around me? Why do you pretend to be my friend when--"

"I'm not pretending, Kelsey! Don't you see? Theo Zamora is the one you shouldn't trust! We could have been good, you and me. I would have respected you. Theo is only after one thing."

"I know! Okay? That 'one thing' is what I want right now. You can either accept me or not, but if you're not going to accept me as I am, then let's just..."

He grabbed her arm again, this time with alarming force. His face changed, became a frightening mask she didn't recognize. His fingers dug into her skin. "You know, I can do that same abusive shit he does. You think I'm just a nice guy, and you obviously don't like nice guys. I get it. You want to be mistreated, right?" He shook her. "Hurt? Humiliated?"

Was he insane? "I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "But you're freaking me out, and I'd like you to let me go."

He fused his mouth to hers, practically choking her with his tongue. She pushed at him in protest, only to feel his arms clamp around her waist. She twisted to get away, but he only held her harder, trapping her against the refrigerator. Why did gymnast guys have to be so goddamn strong?

"Mmph. Wayne--" He wasn't letting her go. She stared into his eyes, wondering what the hell was going through his mind.

"This is what you like, huh?" he asked. "The rough stuff? I can do that, see?" His mouth started suffocating her again. She bit down hard on his tongue, tasting her own panic.

He pulled away, forcing her arms behind her back until her shoulders ached. His hard torso pressed against her, a prison at her front. "Does this get you hot, you little slut?" He started to push her downward. "Why don't you kneel, then, and show me what a whore he's made you into?"

Her knee came up, hard and fast, into his crotch. He threw her from him, doubling over in pain.

"I dunno, Wayne. Does that get you hot?" she asked, wiping her mouth.

"You fucking bitch!" he groaned. "How fucking dare you?"

"No, how fucking dare you, you asshole? You don't have a clue what I want. What I like. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Kelsey opened the refrigerator door again and located the pineapple. She momentarily considered flinging it at his head, but then decided it would be a waste of good pineapple. If she couldn't have Licky Stix...

She took the pineapple upstairs and shut herself in her room, still a little shaky and freaked out. She tried not to believe the things Wayne had said about Theo, since her former friend obviously had greater issues, but… Was it true that Theo talked smack about her? After all she'd given him? Part of her wanted to deny it, but part of her knew he could be heartless and cruel. And had she really changed that much since Laguna Hills? So much for the worse?

No, she wasn't worse. Just different.

A moment later, she heard a knock on her door. She stayed where she was. If it was Wayne, she wouldn't open it. If it was Theo, he'd walk right in, which he did a second later. "What's the matter?" he asked, noticing the woebegone expression on her face.

"Wayne. He's a total asshole."

"I've told you this forty-five times before. Now you finally realize?"

"It's not funny. I mean, we really fought. We're not going to be friends anymore."

"He was never your friend. I told you."

"Just shut up."

"It's for the best. Just imagine, if you ended up together, you would have these children…so blond, so pale…they would practically be invisible. You would have to put bells on them."

Kelsey didn't laugh. It wasn't funny. She didn't know why her friendship with Wayne had gone so wrong...and then there was her relationship with Theo. He was scarfing her pineapple right out of the bowl in her hand.

"Have some pineapple, Theo."

"Thanks. I am." He sat down on the bed beside her. She looked up at him, searching his face. Do you really talk bad about me when I'm not around?

"What is it?" he asked, sobering. "Did you like him so much?"

"No, I didn't like him that much," she admitted. "Not really." Not the way I like you. Kelsey sighed and stretched, resting her head on his shoulder. "So..." So how do you feel about me? What's going on with us? Do you feel anything for me, besides professional interest and lust? "So, did you need something? Or did you just want to finish off my fruit?"

Theo popped the last piece of her pineapple into his mouth. "Do you believe?" He gazed at her with his gypsy dark eyes. "Do you believe the things Wayne says about me?"

"What things?" For a moment she thought he'd overheard their conversation in the kitchen, but then she realized he was talking about the gossip Wayne spread around concerning Minya's death. She and Theo had never talked about the cut safety cable, not openly, not even after he'd gone to Paris those two days. His steady stare pinned her, and she was too cowardly to ask any of the questions she wanted to. Instead she shrugged. "Well, I thought that had all been sorted out."

Theo pursed his lips and looked away. "The investigation is over. But still, people talk. Do you believe what he says? Some people believe it."

"How do you know?"

"The way they look at me. There are some, even here, who won't say my name. They won't talk to me or meet my eyes."

Kelsey looked down at her empty bowl. "Does that bother you?"

"It only bothers me what you think. If you believe. Or…if you doubt."

Kelsey sighed. She didn't exactly doubt him, but she knew she didn't know everything about that night. There was some secret, some reserve in his eyes whenever they came anywhere near the subject. Like right now.

But that didn't mean guilt. No. He couldn't have had anything to do with her death. It was an accident. Sometimes she had horrible visions of Theo in a Chinese prison, Theo behind bars. Theo, would could fly so beautifully, trapped in a tiny cell.

"I know you didn't do anything," she said. "You never would have done anything to intentionally hurt her."

He turned to her with a kind of violence. "I hurt her many times. Don't you know--" He made a frustrated, distraught sound. "It doesn't matter." He took her bowl and set it aside, seeming to search for calm.

She wanted to plead with him for answers, but she was afraid of what she might hear. She stared at his profile, his hard jaw. She wanted to give him softness, comfort. "May I serve you, Master?" she whispered.

"Why do you think I'm here?" He pressed her down to the bed and gave her one of his hot gypsy kisses, the ones that left her gasping and feeling dirty. She clung to his muscular shoulders, burying her fingers in his hair. She didn't want to let him go. She felt him fumbling between them. He yanked down her pants, freed his cock and slid it into her with a ragged sigh. Through all this, he never stopped kissing her. There were just his lips and his hands and his hugeness filling her. When he was done with her, gone for good, what could ever replace such a presence? Such a force?

Theo... She didn't realize she was saying his name out loud until he looked down at her. It was a gaze of such mystery, such intensity. He would never let her in; she realized that now. But she would treasure what she had, what he gave her. Somehow she understood he gave her more than he'd ever given anyone else. They climaxed together in a shuddering press of bodies. He kissed her again, more tenderly, licking her lips before he leaned away.

"That's what I came for," he said. "Not pineapple."

Kelsey smiled and relaxed in the circle of his arms, enjoying these moments of closeness. She wished he wasn't always moving away from her, just out of her reach, as soon as they got out of bed. She wished she had no doubt, no questions. "You know what? I trust you, Theo," she said, more to convince herself than anything else. "I believe in you, no matter what other people think."

"Well, that makes you a stupid girl," he said quietly, pulling her closer and resting his chin against her hair.

* * * * *

Stupid girl. Stupid girl.

Kelsey sat in the chairs at the theater watching the other acts. Theo was a few rows down, talking to a friend. What was he saying? Something about her?

She didn't know why she let Wayne's words poison her psyche so much. But they had. She looked at all the other performers with suspicion now. She saw judgment in a glance, derision in what was probably a harmless smile. She noticed how some of them really did avoid Theo. How some of them avoided her.

Wayne avoided her. He was with his own friends near the edge of the stage. When his group of acrobats went on to do their act, Kelsey watched with grudging admiration. They really were good--powerful, dramatic, entertaining. Wayne was good. He'd always been good, always talented. How she'd crushed on him those many years ago. Why did she have to grow up and face reality in all its brutal truth? Wayne had never noticed her then, and he'd only seen her as a conquest now. All his friendly solicitousness was a lie.

Theo had told her, but she hadn't believed.

She didn't know what to believe now. It was a terrible place to be. She told herself she just had to concentrate on work. Do her job. She would perform, and she'd exchange power with Theo. She'd go to the Citadel, because that was truth, raw and unfettered. Michel Lemaitre lived truthfully. With him, you knew where you stood because he told you, point blank. In his back room at the Citadel, he showed you. Truth.

"Kels. Come."

Kelsey looked up to see Theo beckoning. Their part was coming up. Since their act was last, everyone else was done. They were all sitting and watching. Kelsey found it excruciating in her newfound paranoia. Theo's friend stared at her as she approached the stage, while Wayne pointedly avoided eye contact. One of the Chinese contortionists frowned and turned away too, while another gave her an openly vicious look. Two women jugglers whispered behind their hands.

Kelsey looked at Theo. It only mattered what he thought. She loved their act, loved flying with him. She loved him. For now, it had to be enough.

They climbed the silks together, following the choreography. As usual, Guy stood near the stage calling out directions on his loudspeaker, mostly stuff they already knew. Theo had told her that in time the silks would feel like part of her body, the act like part of her bones. It was true. Each arch, each grasp unfolded like clockwork for her. Theo was doing his own thing, both of them telling their tale six stories above the floor.

But suddenly something felt wrong. Some tension was missing. Kelsey gripped her silk, but it was slipping, sliding, far too loose. A scream caught in her throat. She was still swinging, but the silk was ripping away under her weight. She looked at Theo in panic, confused. He looked back with an expression of horror. In the seconds it took her to digest all this, she started to fall. It didn't make any sense. He had told her, long ago, "Silks don't rip. Ever."

She clutched at the fabric, trying to climb but finding no foothold. Time seemed to stand still. She heard shouts and screams, and her own rasping breath, her pounding pulse in her ears. Her body flipped around, out of control. She couldn't even identify her position in space, a situation that terrified her as a gymnast, but terrified her even more, now, so far off the ground.

Go limp. Don't fall head first. She had no idea how she would land. The silks were supposed to be her safety line. He'd told her that. He'd made her think this was safe.

You know what? I trust you, Theo.

That makes you a stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl.

A dark shadow appeared, a blur to her left. A hand closed around her wrist with a clasp like iron. She felt a jarring pop in her shoulder and excruciating pain.

She heard Theo's breath go out in a whoosh, or maybe it was his feet sliding down the silk that made the sound. She hit the stage before he did, but the landing was soft. Theo leaned over her, his hand still around her wrist, as red silk billowed down over both of them. She remembered another time, white silk and swaying trees, and Theo over her. Such intensity in his gaze.

She tried to move, but he held her down, his face a mirror for her disorientation. Faces and voices crowded around them. Above her, the rigging lurched back and forth, making her dizzy. She cringed and tried again to move, but when she reached out for Theo, she felt piercing pain. Silks don't rip. Ever.

She closed her eyes and had the sensation of falling again as the edges of her world went black.

Chapter Fifteen: Truth

Kelsey woke feeling groggy. She tried to shift on her bed but her whole body felt stiff and sore. She heard a sound like a hiss. She opened her eyes to find herself in a hospital room.

A hospital room?

Events came rushing back to her. A feeling of vertigo, a helpless plummet. She'd fallen off the silks. But she hadn't fallen. Theo had caught her and slid down to the stage with her. Always so graceful, that slide.

"Theo," she cried softly.

A man appeared beside her bed, but it wasn't Theo. She searched his face, finding no sign of the feared Le Maître. He was only Michel Lemaitre now, her boss. "Don't try to move," he ordered. "You're okay, but don't try to move yet."

Oh, thank God. She was okay. If he said so, it was true. Kelsey wiggled her toes and moved her legs. She moved her arms and felt a dull soreness in her left shoulder. Lemaitre scowled at her. "I said not to move. You dislocated your shoulder. They have repaired it. Relocated it. But you must rest."

"Where's Theo?" she asked.

"How do you feel, aside from your shoulder?" There was concern, and some other hooded emotion in his striking light eyes.

"Where's Theo?" she asked again.

"Theo is resting, as you should be. Just lie still. You're coming off very strong painkillers."

Something in his expression triggered groggy unease. "Is he okay?"

"Yes," Lemaitre said gruffly. "Why would he not be okay?"

A nurse came in to take her vitals and cluck over her, fluffing her pillows and giving her some water. She had a short conversation with Lemaitre in French, and then another woman came in who was apparently a doctor. By the time she left, Kelsey was feeling much more alert--and worlds more anxious. "What happened?" Kelsey asked. "Why did the silks tear? Theo said they were strong." Theo had told her so many things, and she believed all of them.

"They are strong," Lemaitre said darkly. "Kelsey, I hate to tell you this, but… They were tampered with. Someone made cuts in the fabric so it would tear under pressure."

Kelsey gawked. "Who would have done that?"

Lemaitre looked away with a frown. "At first, Theo accused your friend Wayne. Apparently he spread a good deal of rumors about Theo that weren't true. Theo also said you and Wayne argued recently."

"Yes, we did, but…" Kelsey couldn't imagine Wayne taking such drastic measures, not over jealousy and wounded pride. "I don't think-- I don't know that he would have--"

Lemaitre shook his head. "It wasn't Wayne. The police already discovered who it was. There are security cameras in the rigging area, and in the equipment storage facilities. Ever since…" Kelsey stared at the sober-faced man. Michel looked incredibly bleak. "After Minya died, there were questions."

"Where's Theo?" Kelsey asked, bursting into tears. "Just tell me!"

"Calme-toi, petite. It is not what you imagine," he said, handing her a tissue. "But you must know the whole story. I should have told you before." He paused, his regard a tacit order to collect herself. Somehow, Kelsey did. She wiped her eyes and clutched the tissue in her lap as he continued. "When Minya fell, when they investigated, Theo explained to them it was an accident. But Minya's family did not believe. There were very hard feelings. Continued accusations. Not just against him, but against you, when you took her place so quickly as Theo's partner."

Kelsey was shocked. "He never told me. No one ever told me."

"Theo wanted to protect you from what was being said. But you see, Minya's family believed…" Michel paused and took her hand. "They believed either you or Theo wanted to get rid of Minya, or perhaps conspired together to make her death look like an accident."

Kelsey shook her head. "No. That's not true. I didn't even know Theo back then."

"Of course it's not true," said Lemaitre. "When people grieve, they do not always see the truth, only their own pain and suffering. The man on the video--the man who tampered with the silks--was a good friend of Minya's family. He was to have married Minya. It was arranged before she became involved with Theo, but once she met Theo..." Michel's voice trailed off, his hands opening at his sides. "Well, he believed Theo was guilty. He damaged the silks, perhaps hoping one or the other of you might fall in some kind of poetic justice. I'm afraid it was a very misguided attempt at revenge."

"Misguided." Kelsey seized on the word. "It was misguided, wasn't it? Theo had nothing to do with Minya's death, did he?"

Michel's pale blue eyes held hers, astute, piercing depths.

"You already know the answer to that, Kelsey, don't you?" He sighed, long and slow. "The official party line is that the safety cable broke in a freak accident. But the truth is, the line was cut. If you consider a moment, you will understand by whom. There was only one person who would have disabled that safety line."

Kelsey's mind worked, staring into Lemaitre's gaze. She replayed the scene in her head, Minya swinging wide, Theo grasping for her, catching her. Catching her hand. Kelsey knew the power of Theo's hand now, and she knew...she knew... He never would have dropped her. Minya, who weighed even less than her.

"She let go," Kelsey whispered in a daze. "Minya let go. He didn't drop her."

"He didn't drop her," Michel agreed.

Kelsey went hot and cold in shock. "And Theo knew. All along he knew he didn't-- That she--"

Michel frowned. "Minya's family is very traditional. Old circus people. They would have seen her actions as very weak. Very dishonorable. Theo felt it was the least he could do, to take the blame. To pretend it was an accident."

Kelsey hated Minya in that moment. "It wasn't fair to him! Everyone said he had bad hands, that he dropped her. Someone almost tried to kill him, when none of it was his fault!"

"Ah, but Kelsey," Michel said mournfully, "Theo thought it was his fault. He still thinks so. He and Minya had been in a very intense relationship for a long while, but it was one-sided. In the days before the accident, he was distancing himself from her. He'd even thought about leaving Paris to do a new act elsewhere. She wasn't dealing with it in a healthy way. Perhaps he also was not." He fell silent for a moment, pinching his lip. "You see, it is very personal and complicated. And hopelessly sad."

Kelsey felt numb. She was angry with Theo for keeping the truth from her, angry with Minya for taking her life in such a cruel and cowardly way. Angry at herself for doubting a man she loved so much.

"Why are you keeping this secret?" she asked him. "It's not fair. It makes Theo look guilty. And he's not guilty, no matter what he believes."

"Of course he's not guilty. But it is not for me to say." Lemaitre fell silent for a moment, staring past her shoulder. "He worries for you now, Kelsey, that he will hurt you too. This latest accident has shaken him badly. He has gone to Paris and he says he will not come back."

Kelsey bolted up, only to be pushed back again with a tsk. She ignored Lemaitre's insistent handling, shaking her head.

"No. No! He can't just leave!"

"He tells me he is through with circus. He quit. He resigned."

Kelsey sputtered in anger. "Just like that? He quit, and you let him? He can't do that! Call him. Make him come back."

"I cannot. I can't force him to do anything he doesn't want to do."

"I thought you controlled this whole circus."

His face twitched. "I control this whole circus, yes, save one person. Theo Zamora." Michel gave her an assessing look. "But I know someone who could control him, if she has the courage to do so." He paused. "The show opens in less than two weeks. I need you to bring him back to us."

Kelsey twisted her hands in her lap, furious and terrified. "He has to come back," she agreed. "But what if I can't get him to?"

"You did it once," said Lemaitre briskly. "You can do it again."

"Well, let's go," Kelsey said, swinging her legs over the bed, ignoring the ache in her shoulder. "Let's go now."

Lemaitre pushed her back yet again. "Soon. When the doctors say it is okay."

"I feel fine," Kelsey argued. "A dislocated shoulder is nothing. They happened all the time at the gym. You pop it back in and you keep training."

Michel chuckled softly. "You are a tough girl, ma mignonne. Very tough. But in this, you will obey me." She subsided at his tone, and fell back with a sigh.

"How dare he leave me?" she grumbled. "I would never have left him. Horrible man."

"He doesn't deserve you," Lemaitre said quietly.

It wasn't until later that afternoon, when they were flying to Paris on Lemaitre's private plane, that Kelsey put her hand to her cheek, remembering a vicious slap, a searing glare. You never let go. You wait for me to let go, always.

"Kelsey?" Lemaitre asked. "Is everything okay?"

No, nothing's okay. I thought I knew this man, but I didn't know him.

Nothing made sense. Wayne wasn't a harmless friend, but a player. Theo wasn't murderous, but selfless. The "accident" hadn't been an accident at all, but a tragic suicide. And to cap it off, Lemaitre, dungeon despot and ass fucker extraordinaire, was patting her hand as tenderly as her own father ever had. Instead of a red ladybug with black spots, a black ladybug with red spots. All of it, such a shock.

She turned into Lemaitre's arms and cried until they touched down, and then dried her eyes and prepared to do battle. This was a fight she intended to win.

Chapter Sixteen: Confession

The first knock was timid, a small rap, rap. For a moment Theo thought he was hearing things, but then it came again, louder, more insistent.

Of course she would come.

Theo stared at the ceiling, willing her to turn around and go. Give up on him as she should. He'd almost gotten her killed, for fuck's sake. Stupid, stupid girl.

He was shirtless, hung over, too weak and miserable to drink the headache away. He had to try. He grabbed the nearest bottle and took a swig, flinching at the burn of straight whiskey.

"I hear you in there," Kelsey said, pounding very hard now. He grabbed his head and oriented himself to the door before he tried to stand up.

"Go away!" he yelled.

"Open the door, or I swear to God I'll kick it down."

He laughed helplessly. Miserably. If he let her in, he was lost, but he really could envision her kicking the door down.

"Go away," he yelled one last time.

"I'm going to stand out here and raise a ruckus until you open the door, Theo Zamora. I'll call the police. I'll get a sledgehammer and rip a fucking hole in the--"

He swung the door open and scowled at her. "Shut the fuck up. My head is pounding."

She pushed past him into his house. This was the house where all this had begun, this fucking mess. It took most of his effort just to kick the door shut after her. He turned to find her scanning his blown-up living room in disgust. He walked past her, heading for the couch.

"Really nice, Theo," she snorted. "All you're missing are the cigarettes." She threw a carton on the floor in front of him. He stared at them a moment, then picked them up and flung them back at her, hitting the wall over her shoulder. "Get out!"

She threw the carton back, and this time it glanced off the right side of his head. He lurched to his feet, advancing on her, not fully sure what he intended to do.

"You didn't drop her," Kelsey yelled in the face of his charge. "She let go. You lied to me, to everyone. You liar!" Theo faltered. Kelsey backed away from him, a combination of fear and anger in her eyes. "So, I forgive you for the time you slapped me. Go ahead, smoke up. But you should have told me, you ass."

So she knew now. Fine. It made no difference at this point.

"And you left me, you asshole! You didn't even say goodbye. I woke up in the hospital with fucking Lemaitre sitting beside my bed. How dare you leave me?"

"Get out," he ordered, nodding at the door. "I left you because I'm done with you."

She shook her head and stood her ground, shriek-mouthed little witch. "An accident. You lied about all of it. You told me you never lied. I guess that was a lie too. You fucking liar!" She pitched herself at him, a hundred pounds of spitting, furious gymnast with claws extended. "And guess what? You can't be done with me," she yelled. "I won't let you be done with me!"

He caught her and shook her. "It's not your choice, stupid girl!"

"I'm not a stupid girl! I'm not stupid or good or innocent. Not anymore. Why did you lie to me, Theo? Why did you let everyone believe it was your fault?"

"I never lied. It was my fault! And you know nothing."

He released her and she toppled on her ass, going still. He turned his back on her, kicking a liquor bottle and almost stumbling. Five minutes back in his life and she was already plaguing him beyond what he could bear. "You don't understand," he said, turning back to her. "No matter what happened...either way...it was always my fault. Even you. You falling. It was my fault."

Kelsey would never understand what had gone through his mind when he saw the silk shearing away beneath her grasp. When he closed his eyes he saw it. When he slept he dreamed of it, to the point he didn't dare sleep. She could never understand the damage it left behind, even now. Just to see her here, in all her beautiful outrage. Alive. When she might have been--

Kelsey shook her head, rising slowly to her feet. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't cut the silks. And Minya--what she did--it was her choice. Her stupid choice."

"No," he barked. "Don't you see? I made all her choices for her. She forgot how to make intelligent choices because I stripped her bare. I did it on purpose because I liked the feeling. The feeling of power. The feeling of dominion over her." He raked his eyes over Kelsey, his precious coccinelle. His triumph and his downfall. "I still like that feeling. Save yourself. Go away."

"What about our act? That's it? You're abandoning me?"

"I'm sending you away."

Kelsey threw up her hands. "Because that tactic really worked when you tried it with Minya."

He unleashed a tirade of vile French epithets before he found his way to English again. "Go, now," he yelled in her face. "Go away from me and do what you do. Bulldoze on through life, eating colored sugar and shitting rainbows out of your goddamn ass, never realizing how much danger you're in. I don't want you on my head. I won't have you on my head."

He was so in love with her. In love enough to make her go. "Please go," he said. "I can't stand looking at you anymore. Take the cigarettes, if you please."

Kelsey stepped back, as if he'd slapped her again. Theo rubbed his eyes, unable to bear her vitality, her loveliness. This had to be the end of it.

"You're insane," she finally said. "You're living in some fantasy world of Lemaitre's if you really believe all this shit. Don't flatter yourself, that you were the one who killed Minya. That you were the reason she cut that cable and let go. And don't flatter yourself into thinking you have the power to take me down. You couldn't do it if you tried. You saved me, Theo." Her voice broke. Oh, Jesus, not the tears. He ground his teeth, wanting to kill her. Wanting to kiss her.

She took a deep breath. "You can make me cry, and you can make me hate you, but you don't have the power to destroy me, not ever. You megalomaniacal ass."

An awful silence followed. Then she moved. Moved to leave him.

"Kelsey." He didn't recognize his voice. It belonged to some other person, some other entity straining to come out. She froze on her way to the door. "Kelsey, I... I just... I couldn't bear it if hurt you. I don't want to hurt you."

The room was so quiet he could hear her soft breath. She turned to face him. "You're doing a piss poor job of not hurting me, you prick."

He gazed at her, memorizing her deep blue eyes, her light angelic hair. The solid, strong shape of her. "I love you, Kelsey." It came pouring out. His confession. "I love you. I don't want to hurt you." He could only say the two things, in garbled, tangled phrases. "Je t'adore. I love you. I don't want-- I'm afraid--" His English left him. He dropped words and stumbled, trying to explain while emotion lodged in his throat. "The way you looked, with that silk fluttering away from you... I couldn't bear... I know that you're strong, but--"

Theo turned away, made his way to the couch and collapsed, burying his head in his hands. "When you fell--" He grasped for any words that would make sense. "I was never so scared in my life. I couldn't bear it again. To see you fall down, like her…"

The memories crowded his brain, sickening memories he'd never get over, then she was there beside him, cradling his head, stroking his hair in that way she had. "Theo, you can't hurt me," she said against his ear. "You caught me. Remember? In silks, you never let go. You taught me that. You've taught me so many things. You saved my life. Can't you forgive yourself by now?"

Forgive himself? He wished. But it wasn't enough. There was no way to undo the bad things he'd done. No way to unbreak Minya's heart, or uncut the line she chose to cut. No way to guarantee he wouldn't break Kelsey's heart too, or trample it by pure, stubborn idiocy. "How can I know I won't hurt you?" he asked, his voice tight and hoarse. "How can I be sure?"

"You don't have to be sure. You can never be sure. Sometimes people who are in love hurt each other. But it's nobody's fault. Minya's weakness shouldn't be your burden to carry."

"But I made her weak!" Theo looked over into Kelsey's eyes, willing her to understand.

She shook her head. "I think maybe you were attracted to her weakness. In the beginning you were, and then it became too much, and you wanted to let go of her. But you didn't cause it. It was probably there before."

Theo took a deep breath, and then another. He thought back to those early days when he'd first fallen under Minya's spell. Maybe it was true. Maybe it wasn't his power, but her cringing submissiveness that had made them work. Only they didn't work.

She didn't work.

"It wasn't my fault," he breathed.

"No," Kelsey said. "You didn't do anything wrong. Lots of people break up with lovers. Maybe we'll break up someday too, but I won't go plummeting eight stories because of it. That was her choice. You know what I'll do?"

Theo couldn't wait to hear. He looked into her snapping wide eyes. "What will you do?"

"I'll go out and have a drink, and tell everyone who'll listen what a massive fucking asshole you are."

Theo relaxed into her arms, into the familiar feel and smell of her. "Do you promise to get really drunk, so you'll really tell everyone the worst of the worst about me?"

"Oh, I won't have to be really drunk to do that. Believe me."

Theo listened to his own chuckle in wonder. From such depths of despair, to sunshine peeking through the clouds. Sunshine, or her bright, white hair tickling his cheeks. He took her hand and kissed it, not wanting to let go. "You don't leave me. Ever. I love you."

"I love you too," she said, just that easily. And he believed her. He loved her and she loved him, and it wasn't his fault. He couldn't hurt Kelsey. But he could love her--and he did.

"As soon as I sober up," he said, "we're going to bed. Lovemaking for hours." He groped her breast, caressing her nipple. "You want?"

"Yes, I want, if you shower first," Kelsey said, wrinkling her nose. "And we do have to leave. We have to go back to Marseille, and you have to be my partner in our act."

"Tomorrow," Theo said. "Tomorrow, Marseille, act, partners. Tonight, you and me, my beautiful strong girl."

Beautiful strong stubborn fearless Kelsey.

It wasn't his fault.

* * * * *

Theo slept for hours while Kelsey watched over him. Exhausted, impossible man.

Exhausted, impossible man who loved her.

Or so he said. She wasn't sure you could receive an avowal of love from someone as messed up as Theo and really take it to heart. She'd see what he said about it when he was sober. Still, he acted a lot like someone in love. Impulsive, irrational. Possessive. Unreasonable.

How long had he loved her? As long as she'd loved him? Longer? For a while she drifted around his little house, cleaning up empty bottles, running the dishwasher, straightening up. Not a cigarette butt in sight. Kelsey remembered the first time she'd come here like it was yesterday. That feeling of touching a god, entering a sacred space, and then the stunning realization he wasn't a god after all, but human and flawed.

Deeply flawed, some might say.

She went back and lay down beside him. He smelled nice. He'd shaved and showered earlier while she changed his sheets. But even smelly and unshaven, he was a good man. She was surer than ever of that. He wasn't perfect, but good. They were in love, and they would end up...somewhere. Kelsey wouldn't get hung up on what that somewhere looked like at the moment.

She must have fallen asleep lying next to him, because around dusk it was Theo who woke her from a deep sleep. The slurred, fractured English was gone. His haunted face looked rested and calm. "It wasn't a dream," he said.

"No." Kelsey smiled. "I'm real."

And he really did love her. It was written in his eyes, in the tender expression on his face. He pressed her back on the bed and kissed her. She loved the gentle Theo, but she loved the rough Theo too, and she was prepared when he showed up a moment later, grappling and manipulating her, holding her down. She wanted this force. This spirit. This was the Theo she loved.

He parted her legs and drove inside her with breathtaking thrusts, lifting her from the bed, crushing her in his arms. He was wild, and she was his. She recognized this violence by now and wasn't afraid of it. Her blood beat in her ears and her pussy throbbed with wondrous, building rapture. His cock stretched her and possessed her, making her whole body shudder.

They came in a simultaneous and frenetic climax, in a shaking tangle of limbs. He fell away with tender whispers, the gentle lover again in the afterglow. "Kelsey, Kelsey, Kelsey," he murmured, tracing her lips and her eyes. "I'm so glad you didn't go away."

Those faint, tiny freckles, they killed her. "You aren't always stronger than me," she said. "Sometimes I'll get my way."

"Every so often." Theo shrugged with a devilish grin. "If I have a weak moment. I have them sometimes."

It was such an understatement they both laughed out loud.

They rested and talked, and ate a little, and drank coffee, never getting out of bed. A new Theo was revealed to her in fits and starts. A Theo who talked openly about their future together. About their relationship and where they wanted it to go. A Theo who wasn't so bitter and secretive. Oh, she knew he would still, sometimes, be some of those things. So would she. That was part of life.

But this was progress. Openness and honesty, and the simple affection he gave her, that he'd given her all along.

"I don't know why you put up with me," he said in one of his bleaker moments. "I don't know what I'm doing sometimes."

"Oh, but you make up for it," Kelsey laughed. "All those other times when you're bossing me around."

"I am good at bossing you around, aren't I?"

Just before they left in the morning to return to Marseille, they made love again, this time as Master and devoted slave. He gave the orders and she followed them, licking, sucking, biting, touching and caressing each beloved part of him as told. He partook of her too, holding her down when she struggled to escape his torments and teases. She enjoyed the exacting dominant as much as the uncontrolled lover, if not more. She wanted them both, and his gentle side too.

"What do you think?" he asked as he held her afterward. "What do you think about the two of us? Will we work out, you and me?"

I don't have to think. I just know you're the one, Theo. I've known it from the start.

Chapter Seventeen: The Finale

Kelsey and Theo returned to Marseille together, to a life that was familiar and yet unfamiliar. Wayne had moved out of the house while they were away, but was still employed by the company. Or perhaps he was ordered out of the house by Lemaitre. Kelsey didn't know. She and Wayne spoke briefly outside the theater the following day and made an uncomfortable peace. Still, Kelsey understood their friendship had suffered an irreparable rift.

That loss, though, was offset by Theo's newfound capacity to love. He was still obnoxious, but he was lovingly obnoxious. Best of all, the fear and secrecy that had lurked behind his gaze for so many months was gone, and no more nagging questions echoed in her head. Also, after Kelsey's accident, someone--Lemaitre, Kelsey suspected--finally whispered the truth about Minya's death in a few carefully selected ears. The secret passed around the troupe, and probably wider, to other circuses, although it was never overtly mentioned out of respect for Minya, and her parents, who still grieved. But Theo and Kelsey no longer had to endure glares or speculative glances in the halls and practice spaces of Cirque du Monde.

Not that every day was all wine and roses for Kelsey. Theo was still a selfish and exacting Master in the bedroom, and a drill sergeant on the silks, especially the closer they got to opening night. He could be rude and crude and aggravating, but that was just Theo. He made up for it in a thousand ways. A thousand kisses, a thousand endearments whispered in her ears. A thousand looks from those mysterious dark eyes, and a myriad of smiles on his lips.

He smiled at her now from the door of his bedroom.

"You are a lazy, lazy girl."

"Because someone woke me up in the middle of the night. Again."

Kelsey stayed in Theo's suite now. It was big enough for both of them and they wanted to be together. Wayne and Kelsey's old rooms had been taken over by new performers, one of them a starry-eyed acrobat from New Jersey who reminded Kelsey very much of herself. Nervous, and so eager to please. Kelsey wanted to reassure her, but she knew the girl would have to find her own way. As Theo would say, that was circus life. You loved it or you left it.

And tonight would be Kelsey's first circus opening night.

All of Marseille buzzed in anticipation of the Cirque du Minuit. There were news profiles and magazine articles, billboards and bus advertising. Kelsey and Theo posed for photos wrapped in the silks, flying high in the theater, and were featured on the cover of several French magazines. The show, of course, had long since sold out. If it was a success it could become a Marseille fixture, catering to tourists and residents for years to come. Theo and Kelsey could work every night from six to ten, and spend the rest of the time in each other's arms...

"Lazy girl," Theo said again from the doorway, rousing her from her daydreams. "We're supposed to meet your parents for lunch at noon."

"Oh, shit." Kelsey tumbled out of bed to the shower, then grabbed a quick piece of toast with Theo's special maple butter. He shook his head at her. Hey, if she had the metabolism, why not use it? She was excited to see her parents, but nervous to tell them about everything that had happened in the past few weeks. She was also extremely nervous for them to meet Theo.

"You'll be good, won't you?" she asked as they walked the short distance to her parents' hotel.

"Good? What do you mean by that?" he blustered. "I'll be myself."

"Oh, God. That's kind of what I'm afraid of." Her nerves ratcheted up another notch, but as soon as she entered the lobby and saw her smiling mother and father, she forgot everything. She ran into their hug, squeaking and tearing up. It was so wonderful to see them again after so many months. She pulled back and gestured to the tall, dark man lingering a few yards behind her. She could hardly believe he was hers to introduce. "Mom, Dad, this is Theo."

He smiled as her parents greeted him. Her mom even gave him a little hug. So far, so good.

"We planned to have lunch here," her father said, with a glance at Theo. "There's a nice restaurant right here in the hotel."

"Oh, but I thought you'd like to take in some of the local color." Kelsey pointed out the windows at the noonday sunshine. "A sidewalk café on the waterfront. You know."

"If your parents want to eat here, we'll eat here," Theo countered, guiding her after her mom and dad into the hotel hallway. They passed the restaurant though, and ended up at the door to the ballroom. Theo pushed it open and ushered her inside.

Kelsey's mouth fell open. The entire large room had been completely "Cirque'd." The walls were covered in textures of paper and fabric in the show's colors of red and black. The Cirque du Minuit logo, with its requisite black ladybug, emblazoned one large expanse of wall. The tables were decorated with huge bouquets of black and red roses and the chandeliers dripped with scarlet silk scarves. The room was a wonderland, and it was full of all the performers and staff she knew. Lemaitre was there, and Jason. Even Wayne.

She looked at her parents, smiling wide, then at Theo.

"This is for tonight," he said. "For the party after the premiere. But Michel said we could come before. To meet and talk. To be together. And because…"

The room fell silent as Theo took her hand.

"I know this is a surprise to you. I like surprises," he added with an intimate quirk of a smile. "But tonight, when we go to our silks to do the show, you know…" He looked up at the ceiling, searching for words. When he was nervous, his English always worsened. She squeezed his hand, loving him so much for this sweet little speech. "The silks now, they are not only mine, or yours. They are ours. For some time, I've known this. Now I wish everyone to know."

No one moved in the silence of the room. Theo's voice got softer and softer, but still she could hear. "I only hope you don't mind spending your life with a strange man like me. I pray you'll accept me. Dieu." He dug in his pocket and brought out a little black box. Kelsey's breath left her in a rush.

"On your knees, Zamora," a voice rang out. Lemaitre. The silence came alive with laughter and Theo's face lit up with a smile she could see even through a sudden flood of tears. He dropped to one knee before her.

"Ma coccinelle. My lovely bulldozer. Je t'adore. Be my wife, please."

Kelsey thought she probably should have paused a moment, at least pretended to consider. But instead she thrust out her hand for his ring, sobbing and beaming at the same time. It was the best she could manage for an answer. She didn't know what a public declaration like this must have cost a private, taciturn man like Theo. All she knew was that he must love her an awful lot. The ring was beautiful, a single ruby mounted on a light gold band. "Red for passion and love," he whispered as he slipped it on her finger. "Is okay? You like it?"

You want? She pulled him up and clung to his embrace. "I love it, Theo. I love you. You really don't do things halfway."

He brushed her tears away. "No, not with you. Never with you."

Around them, people were drifting away, calling out good wishes and promises to see them later that night. Kelsey waved to all the smiling faces she knew. Jason gave her a squeeze and whispered, "I knew you were perfect for each other all along."

She laughed. "Liar."

Jason sighed. "Yes, fine, I was wrong about him. He's not what I thought." He cupped her cheek and grinned. "You look so happy, you're glowing. I believe he'll make you happy. He loves you very much."

"I love him too."

Jason shook Theo's hand and promised to chat with them after the show. Soon enough the room was empty of most of the cast, but magic still lingered in the air. Kelsey would never forget anything about this room or Theo's heartfelt words. She stood close to him, gazing at the ring on her finger, still not quite able to believe.

"This is the circus way, I guess? The circus way to propose?" she asked, smiling.

Theo shrugged. "I told you before, there are no secrets in the circus. Might as well allow them to see, to share in the moment. They are my family, so they should be here."

And he had made sure her family was there too. She took her mother and father's hands and accepted their congratulations as Lemaitre stopped to have a few private words with Theo.

"Did you know?" she asked them.

"Theo called us last week," said her father.

"It was so romantic," her mom cut in. "He actually asked your father for your hand in marriage. Is he a very traditional man?"

Kelsey looked over at Theo and Lemaitre and stifled a snort. "Not really that traditional, no. But I guess when it comes to marriage proposals, people want to do things the old fashioned way."

Her mother squeezed her hand. "Show me the ring. I haven't seen it yet."

Kelsey held up the ruby solitaire so her mother could ooh and ahh over it.

"What's that?" her father asked, pointing to a shadow on the gold band near the setting. Kelsey and her mom looked closer. Nestled beside the ruby, almost too tiny to see, was a tiny engraving of a round, spotted ladybug.

"Ohhh," her mother sighed, transported into romantic ecstasies. "It's the ladybug from your show. So you'll always remember how you met."

Lemaitre made his way over to them at that moment. He greeted Kelsey with a hug and a great kiss on both cheeks and then introduced himself to her parents. He invited them to enjoy their stay in Marseille and double-checked that they had tickets on hand for that night's show. He also did some completely exaggerated praising of Kelsey's talents until her parents practically preened.

Kelsey half-listened, but her eyes were on Theo, standing over Michel's shoulder. Despite her mother's belief, Kelsey knew the ladybug wasn't to remind her of the show, or the logo, or her black and red costume with the shimmery cellophane wings.

It was to remind her of that night in the overgrown garden, when they'd lain on his blanket under the stars and talked openly, for the first time, about personal things. Are we just a couple of black ladybugs, you and me?

She'd known the answer then, even though she'd doubted at times. She saw it now, in his burning dark gypsy gaze. She'd wear the answer on her finger, proudly, forever, for all the world to see. She would be his gypsy queen.

* * * * *

A few hours later, the troupe gathered in the backstage area for one last pep talk from Guy, their intrepid director, and Michel Lemaitre, of course. You could have heard a pin drop when Lemaitre spoke. His vision had brought them all here today, and Kelsey thought she would never meet another man with such creativity, such drive. Well, except for...

She slid a look at Theo beside her, resplendent in his dashing blue and white costume, his face made up for effect. His dark eyes emphasized with liner, his lips enhanced with a little rouge. He wouldn't call it lipstick.

Kelsey was in her ladybug costume, sleek and black, sparkling with red dots. Little rhinestones were pasted on either side of her eyes. Around them, performers talked and laughed and stretched in their own outlandish costumes. Kelsey and Theo's communally shared engagement had energized the troupe as a whole. Kelsey couldn't help wondering what circus weddings were like.

"Ten minutes to animation!"

The mimes and clowns went out to work the crowd, with a hue and cry from those waiting backstage. It was starting. Cirque du Minuit. The Midnight Circus. It might be a bleak and dark art piece, but it had brought untold light to Kelsey's life.

Theo held her hand as they watched the show unfold on the monitors. Her finger felt naked. She hated taking her engagement ring off so soon, but rings with settings might snag or weaken the silks, so her ring was secure on a chain around her neck, tucked safely away under her leotard until she could put it back on after the show. Since their number was last, they had time to relax and enjoy the rest of the acts. The troupe was in high spirits and the whole show rolled out without a hitch. Performers bounded into the backstage area after their acts, giddy from applause. The audience was laughing and crying, cheering wildly, buying into the pathos. Guy smoked cigarette after cigarette in the corner. Kelsey knew Lemaitre was watching from the chairs.

Finally it was their turn. "Silks act! Finale!" called the stage manager. Kelsey couldn't help the huge smile that spread across her face. Her muscles were warmed up, tingling to perform. Her blood rushed in her veins, her adrenaline high as a kite. They paused just inside the wings, and Theo pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "Time to fly, ma chèrie."

They swept onto the stage, gliding over the platforms in the choreography they'd practiced untold times. They grabbed their silks, the scarlet fabric shimmering under the powerful lights. Soaring music accompanied their movements, while the lights followed their tricks, drops, and flights. They launched into the section of the act she loved, when the silks rose in the air, towed by cable, and they flew around in a grand circle, Theo soaring after her in fascination and desire. In their act, she was supposed to be afraid--and she acted afraid--but she loved this part where he pursued her. She loved the moment when she was caught.

In their act, he destroyed her, but life didn't always imitate art. When he cradled her lifeless form at the end, it was all she could do to lie still under his touch. She wanted to jump up, hug him and laugh in his arms for all the joy he gave her. Wild applause filled the theater as the lights went down. Theo leaned close to her in the blackness, his whisper drowning out the deafening noise. "I love you, Kels. Beautiful girl."

He was her living dream. So dashing. So daring. Her gypsy king.

Epilogue

"Come. Come!"

Kelsey turned from the brook with her hands on her hips. "No, you wait."

Theo gave her a look. Stubborn, silly girl. He spread a blanket under the tree where they'd been flying in his practice silks. They'd found an even nicer clearing than the one in Paris. This one had a small brook and colorful flowers beneath the grand, gnarled trees overhead.

They were enjoying the afternoon away, trying some new tricks. Cirque du Minuit had been in production for a year and a half and Lemaitre had given all the performers the okay to add new variety to their acts. Kelsey had come a long way, and was full of her own ideas now. She was a born aerialist and gripping performer.

Theo couldn't take his eyes off her, onstage or off.

"Come," he said again. Now he sounded like he was pleading. He hardened his voice. "Come now, or else. And take off those clothes."

She went all dreamy and soft at the tone of his voice. In addition to aerialist and performer, she was a magnificent submissive. Born to it, just as she was born to make him smile. He watched her strip, shy and yet sultry, and pulled her down to the blanket beneath his own naked form. He traced her hips, the curve of her breasts, drawing one taut nipple between his teeth. He was rewarded by a moan, and her wet pussy pressing against his thigh.

"Little hoyden," he whispered.

"Please, Theo… Please."

He parted her legs and impaled her, sliding into her warm heat. He was quickly lost in her, as always, in her delicious sighs and whimpers. Then a fuzzy black shape drifted before his eyes. It took him a moment to focus on what it was he saw. The ladybug landed on her hair, a tiny black circle on a blonde background.

Theo pushed her down, holding her still, determined to catch it.

"Ah," she whispered. "I love when you're rough with me."

Theo laughed and held her head. "Une coccinelle noire! Don't move."

He offered the bug his fingers, careful not to crush it. After an initial hesitation, the little ladybug crawled onto his hand. "Regarde," he breathed. "Une coccinelle du minuit." They looked at it together, the glossy black creature with a smattering of red dots. It seemed content to rove over his palm while they ooh'd and aah'd.

"She's so pretty," Kelsey said.

Theo moved inside her, a teasing slide. "What makes you so sure it's female?"

The ladybug spread her wings and took flight then, and they pulled apart as both of them leapt up to give chase. They ran, laughing, all the way into the forest. They hopped naked over roots and broken branches, following the little black blur until the ladybug flew too high for them to see. Theo turned back to his love, his own ladybug. Kelsey. Kel-zee...

Not bad luck, just different. What would his life be like without her? He didn't want to know. He didn't have to know.

He took her in his arms, there in the forest, and kissed her with all the gratitude in his heart. He made love to her under the whispering branches, marvelously aware of just how lucky he was.

Acknowledgements

As always, I owe such a debt of thanks to my writing critique partners and beta readers: Heather, Fallon, Audrey, Karen, Kati, Janine, Elaine, Leslie, Cherry, Francesca, Ruth, Jessica, and Melisa.

Thanks to Adrienne Wilder for cover art and emotional venting purposes.

Thanks also to all creative performers everywhere. You amaze me.

About the Author

Annabel Joseph is a multi-published BDSM romance author. She writes mainly contemporary romance, although she has been known to dabble in the medieval and Regency eras. She is known for writing emotionally intense BDSM storylines, and strives to create characters that seem real—even flawed—so readers are better able to relate to them.

Some of Annabel's favorite authors are Laura Kinsale, Judith McNaught, Flannery O'Connor, and Anneke Jacob.

Annabel Joseph loves to hear from her readers at annabeljosephnovels@gmail.com. You can learn more about Annabel and her books at http://annabeljoseph.wordpress.com/

An excerpt from

Molly's Lips: Club Mephisto Retold

A free read from Annabel Joseph, coming in the summer of 2012.

In the beginning, when Mephisto first met Molly, he'd hoped she might be his. She'd flirted with him in a skittish kind of way, and he'd found her appealing. Pretty, dark haired, petite, and charmingly rough around the edges. Okay, she'd been a mess, but that had compelled him most of all.

Then Clayton Copeland showed up, and the whole matter had been lifted from his hands.

Mephisto didn't begrudge them their happiness. Every time he saw the two of them together, he knew they were meant to be. Not in a romantic sense, because Mephisto wasn't much into romance. No, in a realistic sense. They simply made a perfect pair.

Mephisto scrutinized the gentleman sitting across the table from him, his friend and occasional lunch companion. Late forties, with just a touch of gray in his blond hair. Filthy rich, cordial and debonair. Clayton's suit must have cost a cool five thousand, and his shoes...Mephisto didn't care to contemplate how much they'd set the man back. Not that Clayton Copeland would feel it in his very, very deep wallet.

If the wait staff in the glossy, contemporary eatery found them an odd lunch pair, they were too well trained to show it. Clayton was rich enough not to care what people thought of his friends, and Mephisto, as the owner of an exclusive fetish club, was not in the habit of apologizing for his piercings, dreadlocks, or gothic style of dress. Mephisto was also well off, though not as wealthy as his friend. Far from blond and blue eyed, Mephisto was dark and possessed of eyes so deep brown they appeared to be black. Great for intimidating submissive women—and sometimes their dominants too.

Mephisto used his ability to frighten when it suited him. For instance, during scenes at his club when he acted as top, or to intervene in scenes that got out of hand. At other times, like now, in the company of an old friend, he let the tough-guy posturing fall away. He moved sushi around on his plate in a fit of OCD, perhaps induced by the spartan aesthetic of the Japanese bar. He waved a chopstick at Clayton.

"So, explain it again. Without the legalese."

Clayton chuckled and sat back in his chair. "The legalese is necessary. I want her to be provided for, and I want it to be ironclad."

Mephisto made a face. "Why wouldn't it be ironclad?"

"Because my family is a collection of heartless and mercenary jackasses. Molly couldn't stand up to them if they tried to challenge anything. And they would—unless it's ironclad. They've always considered her an interloper. My social-climbing trophy wife. If only they knew."

Mephisto popped some sushi in his mouth and considered the man across the table. There was a gravity to his expression Mephisto didn't see too often. "You've got the best lawyers, Clay. I'm sure Molly will be fine."

The older man's lips tightened. "See, that's the thing. I don't think she'll be fine. Not emotionally, or any way else. I worry about how she'll cope when I die and leave her alone."

"Downer alert."

Clayton shrugged. "I'm twenty years older than her. I'm starting to feel my age."

"You don't look it. Come on, you might live fifty more years."

"Perhaps." Clayton's lips twisted in a rueful smile. "If I do, I hope she lives fifty years and a day. If she dies before me—"

Mephisto made an impatient sound. "For real, this is maudlin. What the fuck is going on with you?"

Clayton shook his head and leaned back again in his chair. "Nothing. Just the fretting of an aging man who's made himself the center of a young woman's world." He steepled his fingers and looked up at the ceiling. "She's my slave, but she's also my wife. The love of my life. My happiness."

Mephisto felt a pang of something. Jealousy? Regret? Loneliness. He had plenty of slaves, plenty of submissive women and men who formed a constantly revolving constellation around him. But he didn't have anything like Molly's kind of love. Clayton gave him a direct, intent look.

"Jay, if I die, I want you to take care of her. I mean, watch out for her. You know what I mean."

It sobered Mephisto, to hear his real name on Clayton's lips. He didn't use it very often. His scene name had become his new name over the years. "Sure," he said at once. "Of course I'll look after her. You didn't even have to ask." Hell, Mephisto had been looking after her since he'd stumbled into her at a Pike Street nightclub. He was the one who'd guided her into Clayton's arms. Reluctantly, but still.

"I mean, the financial stuff, the legal stuff, all that will be taken care of," Clayton assured him. "She'll have plenty of money, enough to live her whole life in whatever way she wants."

"You just want me to be sure she finds her way to that 'whatever way she wants' after you're gone."

"Exactly." Clayton looked relieved, his shoulders losing a little of their tension. "And I really want her to have whatever she wants. A new Master, if she wants it, as soon as she wants it."

Mephisto frowned. "Do you really think she'll want to go barreling right into another relationship like the one she had with you?"

"I'm absolutely sure of it," Clayton replied without a second's pause. "My fear is that she won't have the emotional and social strength to navigate herself into another safe harbor, so to speak."

"Especially if she's still mourning you."

"Yes."

"And she'll be rich then, right? A rich widow at large."

Clayton rubbed his eyes. "I can't stand to think about it."

"You don't have to think about it." Mephisto started rearranging sushi again as the waitress stopped by to refill their plates. She slid Mephisto a sultry look as she sashayed away. And, oh, he really had a thing for Asian girls. He forced his gaze back to Clayton. "Look, worry no more. When you go— If you go—I will be there for her one hundred percent."

"Even if I'm not gone...if I'm incapacitated somehow—"

Mephisto threw up his hands. "Now you're just annoying me."

"I'm serious. If I can no longer be the Master she needs, for whatever reason, help her. Help her accept it. Help her move on."

"She won't leave you, you know. No matter what. You could have five kinds of cancer, Alzheimer's, Lou Gehrig's disease and the Black Plague and she'd still be kneeling at your bedside in her submissive pose, waiting for instructions."

Clayton grimaced. "I know. At that point I'd like you to drag her away. Seduce her away if you have to."

At the mention of seduction, a chill fell over the table. If Clayton knew of Mephisto's original interest in Molly, he never revealed it. He'd simply accepted Mephisto's gift. And Molly had been a gift, given many years ago in selfless goodwill. Mephisto could have molded Molly into his own lover. She would have been exciting, challenging. She was a contradictory combination of reckless and submissive. Sometimes Mephisto wondered if he hadn't been a little afraid of taking her on. Clayton had been a better match, with his cool, implacable manner. Maybe Mephisto and Molly would have been too volatile a combination.

Clayton watched him. Yeah, maybe he knew. "You've taken good care of her," Mephisto said, just to say something. "It's very satisfying to me, to know I put her into such good hands. I hope you live a long, happy Black-Plague-free life with her, and that you both die together holding hands, lying under a rainbow in a field of flowers."

"That would be nice," Clayton said drily. "But unlikely."

"Does Molly know you've made all these arrangements for her?"

Clayton shook his head. "Not yet. It would alarm her. I'll bring it up sometime when the mood is right. She can be so emotional."

"Would it be easier if I talked to her about it? Let her know I'd be around if something happened to you?"

"I think that might scare her." Clayton paused, taking a sip of tea. "She's rather scared of you, you know."

"Maybe some time when work is blowing up, or you're heading out of town, you can leave her with me for a while. We could get more comfortable with each other." The words were out before Mephisto fully considered the repercussions. He looked up at Clayton and saw only enthusiasm.

"That's a great idea. She shouldn't be afraid of you. And in that situation you could get to know her better at the same time. Learn firsthand what makes her tick."

The privilege of the revered Master, to not feel one inkling of jealous suspicion. Mephisto took a breath and nodded. "I'd like that. I didn't get to know her very well before she became yours. She never submitted to me." Mephisto tried to ignore the sudden surge of lustful curiosity in his veins. What would it be like to be the recipient of such submission? It wouldn't be the submission she showed her true Master, but a fascinating opportunity all the same. "And you could set whatever parameters you wished," Mephisto added, trying not to sound too guilty. "Whatever would make you most comfortable."

Clayton waved a hand. "I would give you full use of her, of course, if you kept her. It would only confuse her to do otherwise. As long as the typical protocols are observed...condoms and such. Safe, sane, consensual."

"Of course."

Clayton laughed. "As if you would accept anything else. I know those are your club's protocols. And ah...I would really enjoy subjecting her to some of your more rigorous instructional training sessions. It would be good for her," he said with another chuckle. "You're a much stricter Master than I am. And you'd be less emotionally involved. I spoil her so badly sometimes."

Mephisto had to smile. Clayton might spoil her, but he had no compunction about throwing her under Mephisto's bus to get his jollies. "I would be sure to put her through her paces while you were away. Not that she isn't already well trained."

"You're a good friend," Clayton said. "You've always been such a generous friend to me. We'll set something up soon. A short sojourn at Club Mephisto—I'm sure Molly will be delighted."

Mephisto wasn't so sure, but that was part of the thrill.

Other erotic romance by Annabel Joseph

Mercy

Cait and the Devil

Firebird

Deep in the Woods

Fortune

Owning Wednesday

Lily Mine

Comfort Object

Caressa's Knees

Odalisque

Erotica by Annabel Joseph

Club Mephisto

Coming soon:

Molly's Lips: Club Mephisto Retold

The Edge of the Earth

Table of Contents

Chapter One: The Gypsy King

Chapter Two: Descent

Chapter Three: Cirque du Minuit

Chapter Four: Ascent

Chapter Five: Warnings

Chapter Six: Marseille

Chapter Seven: The Act

Chapter Eight: Citadel

Chapter Nine: Power

Chapter Ten: Control

Chapter Eleven: Le Maître

Chapter Twelve: The Back Room

Chapter Thirteen: Submission

Chapter Fourteen: Lies

Chapter Fifteen: Truth

Chapter Sixteen: Confession

Chapter Seventeen: The Finale

Epilogue

About the Author