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(Sex at the Circus, continued...)

At midnight, you return to the marquee, thinking that this is too good to be true, but having to find out nonetheless.

Sure enough, one of the muscle-bound guys is guarding the entrance. He takes your ticket and steps aside, allowing you to pass through the canvas door.

You know that you are not alone in the circus, because you can sense Angelica’s presence. You can smell her perfume, mingled with the smell of incense and something earthy, maybe sweat. Whatever it is, it’s intoxicating. Almost maddening.

You hear her voice.

“Victor,” she calls. Her voice seems to come from the walls of the marquee itself, which billows and undulates as if it is breathing. “Victor,” her voice comes again. You turn, but there’s nobody there.

Your hair stands on end and you feel as if she’s circling you, sizing you up. You feel dizzy and more excited than you’ve ever been.

“Come on out,” you say. “I won’t hurt you.”

She laughs. Again the sound comes from no definite direction.

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