Tricks
an excerpt

A waitress came to our table with a fresh set of drinks, including a large glass of ale for me, which I drank rather quickly. The foam slipped past my lips, and odd as it sounds, that alone reassured me; it was a feeling I knew. Timothy talked with the men as best he could above the noise, so I was free to watch the woman on stage sing her mediocre songs, and observe how the men treated the waitresses more or less the same as they had in the food tent at the circus. In this, at least, I was well versed. The waitresses dodged the hands and worked out less change than was deserved in exactly the same way as we had, and I tried to catch the eye of one particularly skilled waitress to give her a smile. When I did, however, she just looked right through me and moved on. It was strange, but it didn't concern me for long, because now the conversation turned to a subject I knew.

"—saw her at the circus that was in town just now, she's a wonderful singer," Timothy was saying, and I realised he was talking about me.

"A wonderful looker, too," Brown said, and his voice gave me chills. I tried to keep my knees from brushing his under the table, but it was proving to be rather difficult. "Have you, ah, sampled the goods yet?" he asked Timothy, and Evans guffawed. The sound was startlingly loud, even in the noisy pub. Timothy had the grace to flush slightly as he laughed, and that was probably what made me do what I did next.

Leaning over to him, placing my hand rather high up on his thigh, I said in a low voice, barely loud enough for them to hear, "Of course; a proper businessman always samples the goods before passing them on." Timothy looked almost shocked for a moment, and then Evans and Brown burst into a loud laughter that bested even Evans' guffaw. I knew that I was essentially labelling myself as a whore; whether that had been their insinuation or not I wasn't sure, but I wanted to shock them rather than have them speak of me as if I weren't present, and that I certainly achieved.

"Looks like you've got a fiesty one, there, Tim," Brown said. The way he looked at me hadn't improved much; it still sent chills down my spine. I stayed well on my side of the table with Timothy, my hand still far up his thigh, which I could tell was distracting him. In this, at least, I knew what I was doing. He laughed, though, and when he looked at me I thought I saw some sort of pride in his eyes, which surprised me – had he wanted me to make a fool of these men? I could certainly try, though I would be subtle about it; they were, after all, apparently investors in the pub.

"He did find me in a circus, after all," I said, and the men were now looking straight at me, not as if I were a piece of meat at all, but rather an interesting sort of animal. I half expected them to express amazement that I could speak.

"Is it true, then," Evans said, leaning closer across the table, a glint in his eyes, "what they say about gipsies?"

"That we'll bed anything as long as it doesn't hurt our eyes?" I asked, bluntly, and he seemed surprised, once again, that I actually knew what he was talking about. Of course I knew, we had been into town enough times and spoken to enough boys in bars to know what they said about us. Of course, I had always had a circus boy with me, and I had never spoken quite so bluntly of it before, but yes, I did know. Neither of the men seemed to have anything to say to that; they just sat back, regarding me with that changed look in their eyes.

"Because if that's what you've heard," I went on, my voice still quite low, "then it's not entirely true. We generally say that there has to be some sort of attraction in the picture as well, but once that's there we certainly will." The men laughed again, and Timothy joined in, though I could feel a stirring in his trousers, just above my hand, and I knew how badly I was affecting his ability to even string a sentence together, let alone participate in the so-called discussion. I drew my hand away, and I thought I heard a sharp intake of breath, but I didn't want to look over in case I drew the men's attention to his flushed cheeks.

"When do you plan to set her to work?" Brown asked, turning now to Timothy, and I tried not to smile to myself when it took him a moment to respond.

"Not yet, not yet," he muttered distractedly. "She'll have to get to know the place first, learn the routines…"

"Of course, of course," Evans said. "We'll gladly come by and see you, when you're ready," he added, to me, and once again I noted the effect I had had; now he addressed me directly rather than speaking around me. I only smiled in response, before leaning closer to Timothy.

It took two more rounds of ale and more strange but exhilirating conversation – I felt sometimes as though I was setting myself up for something I didn't quite understand, but I didn't care, it was thrilling to have three men in my grasp at once, no matter how sleazily they looked at me – before Timothy finally gave in. I'd been brushing against him, slipping hints, and had almost decided I would wait until later, perhaps tomorrow. He cleared his throat after finishing his glass.

"I should show you around," he said, too low for the men to hear, though I suspect they guessed what he was saying. I had been waiting for that, because I could tell he was growing impatient – his mind may have been wanting to focus on his guests, but his body wanted something entirely different, and I certainly wanted it as well. I nodded my farewells to the men, who nudged each other and snickered as we made our way back through the crowd, Timothy shouldering his way through and clearing a way for me, but not holding my arm anymore. I did wonder at that, but figured that if he touched me more before we left the pub he wouldn't make it.

We went into the back of the pub rather than the front, and, as I'd thought, there was a staircase leading up to the apartment above. He unlocked the double set of doors, one at the bottom of the stairs and one at the top, with a key hanging from his belt. The tones of the piano were shut out almost entirely at the second door. We stepped through it, into what looked like the kitchen, and he locked the door behind us. Down the hall, through a door, and we were in what I assumed to be his bedroom – but I didn't have more than a moment to look around before he had shut the door and pulled me against himself, hard, and leaned in to kiss me.

I punched him in the mouth before I could stop myself, it surprised me so much, even though I had expected it. He reeled back, holding his hand to his lip, blood coming through where I had split it. He started laughing, laughing so hard he had to bend over, and I couldn't help but laugh too, even as I apologised again and again.

"I have no idea what got into me, I'm so sorry," I said, trying to speak through my laughter.

"It's quite alright," he said, laughing as well. "I didn't mean to scare you, I just…"

I pulled his hand away then, lifted his chin, stood up on tiptoe and kissed him full on the mouth. It tasted like blood, but I didn't mind it much, wanted to feel his lips more than anything.