Big Cat Circus by Vanessa de Sade Page A

investment.
    I was so
scared, knowing that I was going on show like a freak that evening,
but inside I was just dancing with excitement, because I was going
to be a big star and we’d have a proper trailer and work with
Barnum’s circus, and my Mama wouldn’t have to drop her panties for
dead-eyed farm boys no more.
    Pa put up the
tent that morning and by three o’clock the hot canvas was putting
out its familiar baking scent. There were little chinks of sunlight
piercing the gloom inside, but the thick green grass was still damp
and cool on my bare feet when Ma and I went over that
afternoon.
    I had the new
costume with me and I undressed and put it on in front of both her
and Pa, ‘cause, hell, they’d both seen me naked about a hundred
million times before, but there was something different in the way
that they both looked at me that day.
    Ma told me to
go and stand on the stage where I could hear the roustabouts
putting up the Ferris Wheel outside, and Pa was telling me to turn
this way and that, and Ma was telling me how to smile and give guys
the eye, when Pa suddenly said, well, hell, this was going to be
good, but we’d need to do some special shows at night to bring in
the real money, and Mama nodded.
    “What’s special
shows, Pa?” I’d asked, all naïve like, and Ma and Pa had just
looked at each other.
    “Well, when men
folks pays to see a pretty girl,” Ma said slowly, “sometimes they
wants to see quite a lot of her, like they do with me, so you need
to learn how to show them as pays extra what they want to see…”
    I looked from
one to the other, thinking that it was a joke, but their faces were
deadly serious and I realised that even though we was going to be
rich now, someone was still going to have to show their bare ass on
our stage at nights, only now it was going to be me instead of
Mama.
    “Come on,
child, it’s not so bad, I’ll show you how it’s done,” Ma said,
getting up on the stage alongside me, “Elmer, put some music
on.”
    Pa cranked up
the Victrola and put on the scratchy record that Mama stripped to
every night, and, as the familiar melody started up we shuffled
slowly through Ma’s routine. “Just do what I do,” Ma whispered in
my ear over the music, and I suddenly realised why Grandma De Marco
had put poppers on all the fastening of my costume rather than
buttons, the top straps springing undone with each bump of the
boogie-woogie beat, our dresses falling to our feet as the pounding
music hit its first refrain.
    Pa rubbed his
hands together in glee, counting money in his head, as he saw us
both up there in our bras and panties, Mama thin and bony, me fat
and sleek like a Thanksgiving turkey. “That’s good, now, don’t walk
on your dress, you’ll wear the fabric out too quick,” Mama
instructed, “now turn your back and take your bra off, that’s
right, then hold it out for two beats, then drop it, but not where
they can get it. Good, now clasp your bosoms and turn to face them,
good, now look down and smile and… move your hands away… now,
that’s perfect.”
    Pa let out a
whistle of appreciation at our bare tits, mine big and round like
watermelons, Mama’s small and snub-nosed with big vertical
nipples.
    “Okay, now
they’ll be cheering,” Mama advised, “so turn again and pull your
panties half down while they’re still hollering and bump and grind.
That’s it, wiggle that big ass and let your drawers just shimmy
down, that’ll drive them wild, so get ready to turn. But don’t just
give it all away just yet, make them beg till the next chorus, cup
your pussy before you face them and hold it tight like I’m doing,
that’s good, and… wait for the music and turn and… now, show them
the goods.”
    The music gave
a great drum roll and symbol clash and I took a deep breath and
pulled my hand away real quick like she said, then sneaked a quick
look down into the tent where the audience would be, trying to
visualise what showing my bare pussy