Last night I dreamed I rean with the tigers, and I knew it
was time to move on.
When I'd decided to hook up with Marty in St. Louis, I'd
thought maybe my days on the road were over. We had had our
share of hot times over the winter, but he was a settled-in type,
and I like the wind in my hair. Now, with the days getting
longer, it was time to dust off the backpack and head down the
highway again. A drifter always knows when he's outstayed his
welcome.
With my togs slung over my shoulder, and a warm evening
breeze in my face, I headed toward the familiar green signs of
interstate 55. As I passed the Checkerdome, I saw the circus was
in town for one more show. Since "we" were both leaving town
anyway, booking out on the sawdust tour seemd as good a way as
any to move on.
When I wandered backstage, the show was already in full
swing. Performers scurried about while the band blared out the
circus march. Nobody bothered checking or questioning me, so I
guess I came off looking like I belonged there. I managed to
find the crew boss and immediately asked him if he could use
another hand.
Looking like he had spent most of his years on the road, the
boss stared at me long and hard, trying to get a fix on me.
"Could use another propman," he drawled, throwing his half-
smokedcigarette on the concrete. "Ain't afraid of work, are
you?" he asked,poking the cigarette with the toe of his worn
boots.
"No problem," I answered quickly.
"Ain't got the law chasing you?"
"I was always told that circus people didn't ask questions,"
I countered.
"Tell you what," he laughed, "give the guys a hand loading
the train. If you survive that, we'll take you along."
I reached out and we firmly shook hands.
"You gonna ask what the job pays?" he asked.
"Nope," I answered.
As he walked back into the arena, he mumbled "You must
really wanna get out of this fuckin' town real bad."
I stowed my pack in an empty corner, stripped off my shirt
and set out to find whatever work I could get into.
It was at the stage door where I first spotted them: twelve
lean, powerful tigers waiting intheir cages. I wondered if those
glorious cats banded in orange, white and black knew I had
dreamed of running through the jungle with them? I proudly
glanced at the tattoo engraved on my shoulder -- a tiger with his
jaws wide open, ready to strike.
We eventually finished loading the circus train at two
o'clock in the morning. Five conrail deisels hooked the
scattered sections of the circus train together. The long string
of flatcars hauling the equipmentcoupled with the animal cars and
then finally mated with the coach section our "home" as the show
jumped from city to city. Long blasts from the engine's horns
announced out departure. I jumped aboard, joining a trainload of
wanderers running off into the night.
The cirus company, a Heinz 57 mixture of nationalities,
stared out from their compartments while I stumbledthrough the
cars searching for an empty bunk. I felt awkward as hell. A
buzz of languages was obviously spreading the news that I was the
new kid on the block. My large knapsack kept hitting the sides
of the dimly lit hall. From the looks of things, there was no
room in the inn.
Finally in the third car, a stranger called, "Need a bunk?"
Removing the bundle from my choulders, I entered the narrow
cabin.
The stranger greeted me with a broad smile. "I heard we had
a new guy coming along. I'm Jeff."
"Travis."
Something was not right here, I thought. Nothing about this
young stud suggested a heritage of circus family. This guy
lookied like he belonged on a farm in Indiana running a tractor.
"How ya like circus life?" he asked.
Every muscle in my body ached. "I think I'm going to die,"
I said matter of factly.
"You get used to it," he chuckled, offering me one of his
Chesterfields. "Sit down and take a load off Circus Boy."
"Travis," I repeated with irritation, pulling one from the
pack. "Which bunk's yours?"
"Don't matter," he shrugged.
I plopped onto the lower bunk and yanked off my boots.
"Not exactly the Ritz, is it?" he said with a grin.
Hardly. Just two stacked bunks and maybe three feet away a
wall with a cracked mirror and closet area for the both of us and
everything we had in the world.
"How long you been with the circus?" I asked.
"About a year with this sho. Before that I was with a tent
show." Exhalinga stream of smoke into the room, he said, "I miss
being out in the open."
A fellow traveler, I thought, "Sounds like you get around."
"In more ways than one," he smiled back.
"You ready to turn in?" I asked in exhaustion.
Jeff closed the compartment door and bolted the lock. His
road-weary eyes met mine as he unbuttoned his denim workshirt.
His powerful chest, developed by circus life, tapered neatly into
a muscular waist holding up a pair of tight, faded Levi's.
Different time different place, I could really go for this
guy. But not now, I just got out of one of those deals.
I pulled off my flannel shirt and tossed it on the bunk.
Discovering the tiger on my arm, Jeff asked, "where did you
get the tattoo?"
"Nam. Tigers are a good luck symbol for the Vietnamese.
It's also my favorite animal," I explained.
"Mine too," he said with a smil I didn't understand .
I expected him to jump him to jump topside while I stripped
down, but he didn't move.
"So what do you do on the show?" I asked while I pulled off
my jeans.
"You'll see."
From the looks I was receiving, it seemed like this
conversation wasn't over yet.
Impatiently I raised the shade of the dirty window and
pressed my face to the glass. St Louis receded furtherwith every
clickety-clack of the wheels under us. In the glass, Jeff's
reflection stared at me.
"There's nothing back there for you anymore," he said
softly, "You're with us now Circus Boy."
Next Evening we open the show to a packed house in Chicago's
Southside Arena. While aaerialists swung from the trapeze forty
feet over our heads, we boys on the prop crew scrambled to get
the tiger act ready.
Roused from their peaceful sleep, the cats growled and grew
alert, ready for their bout in the center ring. Only a mesh of
caging separated me from the awsome tigers. The biggest cat
sensing I was new, snarled and thrust his powerful claws at the
cage trying to claw me.
With the trapeze act finished with wild applause, a single
spotlight picked out the ringmaster out of the darkness.
Elegantly dressed in Black top hat and red velvet tuxedo, he
announced in typically grand circus superlatives:
"Ladies and gentlmen, boys and girls! Directing your
attention to the center ring! For the first time in America,
direct from Germany -- a cage full of colossal killer cats!
Twelve savage tigers, trained by the one, the only , `The Great
Reynaldo'!"
The band struck up a triumphant circus march as spotlights
blazed on the fearless tamer inside the cage, totally encircled
by jungle beasts.
Holy Shit! It was Jeff!
I was so knocked out at discovering that my bunkmate wa the
cat trainer I nearly forgot I was supposed to hand him the
various props he needed.
Jeff worked the tigers through an incredible routine. He
had the cats roll ove in unison, balance themselves on top of
barrels, and the leap through a hoophe held over his head.
Through this, I don't think Jeff noticed I was there even
once. Even when I handed him the the torch to light the hoop of
fire, his intensity was centered only on the tigers.
For the grand finish, the tigers leapt onto staggered
platforms and formed a pyramid. Jeff jumped on the back of the
top tiger and placed his head inside the cat's powerful jaws.
Finally Jeff cracked his whip, sending the cats scurrying
back into their wagons. While we secured the doors, Jeff carried
the last tiger around the cage as though the animal were a pet,
bringing a thunder of applause from the crowd.
The lights blacked out and the clowns jumped into the arena,
diverting the attention while we tore down the cage. In the
darkness, Jeff came over to me.
"So, did that get your nuts rolling?" he asked in his
familiar grin.
"kinda," I said deadpan. "`Direct from Germany? The Great
Reynaldo'?"
"Well, nobody's gonna pay to see a guy from Fort Wayne. You
gotta dress it up with a little tinsel."
I felt myself becoming to this nomad, and as much as I
wanted to keep my distance, I nevertheless complimented, "You're
terrific."
Thanks. Stick around tonight. I'll show you something the
audience never sees," he said with a playful poke.
I spent the rest of the performance wondering if I wanted to
find out what he meant.
After the show I ambled backstage among the clown props,
Tampolines, and bear motorcycles. The damp smell of sawdust
already seemed comfortably familiar. Off in a corner, "Captain
Galaxy's" huge cannon rested silently in the darkness.
I heard the sharp crack of the whip reverberating through
the dark coliseum. Venturing into the empty arena, I found Jeff
working a young tiger by the light of a single overhead lamp.
"I thought you'd like to see this. Come and sit by the
ring." Jeff invited.
Stripped down to a pair of tight Levi's, Jeff was patiently
teaching the tiger to stand on his hind paws. When the cat's
attntion faltered, Jeff would snap his whip on the ring floor,
bringing a sharp growl from the cat. Gathering confidence with
each repitition, the aimal finally performed the trick on
command. Lavishing praise on his young tiger, Jeff vigorously
stroked the cat's neck.
"Her name is Shayla," Jeff said.
"She is two years old. It's about time she learned the
act."
"She looks so tame," I commented.
"No matter how long Shayla is with the sircus she'll always
have the jungle in her." Jeff looked at me. "You two have a lot
in common."
With a ferocious growl, Shayla lunged at her trainer. Jeff
calmly placed his arms in front of him, a command the huge cat
knew as an order to lie down. The tiger withdrew her claws and
resumed her prone position.
"Good girl," he confided to the tiger who purred like a
barnyard tabby. "Tigers must respect you, or they won't work
with you. I'm teaching Shayla that I can always se what she is
doing. That's something I'm going to have to teach you too."
Jeff unbolted the lock on the cage door. "Get in here,
Circus Boy."
"You're not serious!" I shot back.
"You wear a tiger on your arm don't you? I want to see what
happens when you come face to face with a real tiger."
From his tone I guessed he didn't mean Chayla. I've never
been one to go down on a dare, though this very well could be the
last one for me. I entered the cage and slowly sircled the
haunting animal. Shayla's piercing freen eyes followed every
move.
"Put your hand out for her," Jeff said. "She must know you
trust her."
"What if she doesn't trust me?"
"Then she'll rip your arm off."
I swallowed hard and extended my hand in front of Shayla's
powerful Jaws. her hot breath roasted my fingers while I waited
in that awful moment for her to decide.
Then she nuzzled her head into my palm and rubbed against
it. Scratching her powerful neck, my finger tips felt pure
animal muscle under the softness of the tiger's velvet fur.
While stroking the huge purring animal, I smugly asked, "Do you
do this with all the guys on the show?"
Jeff leaned me against one of the prop platforms. "Just the
ones I want to tame."
"Yeah? Well, here's one cat that ain't gonna get tamed."
"We'll see," he shot back with his defiant grin.
Jeff unbuttoned my circus overalls and pulled them open.
His hand traced a path through my chest hair, ove my stomach and
ventured into the velvet fur of my crotch.
"Nice," he said as he gripped onto my long limber cock.
"Uncut, just like an animal."
Part of me was horny as hell at this craziness. Another
part of me was absolutely petrified; I didn't know if I was more
scared of Jeff or the tiger.
The longer Jeff stroked my tool, the hotter I became. Soon
he had worked my dick up to it's entire length. My swollen rod
reached up to touch the hardness of my belly. Wrapping his warm
mouth around my joint, Jeff slowly worked on my cockhead and soon
had me groaning like a tomcat in heat. My breaths came in short,
panting succession. the jungle part of me wanted to grab Jef by
the neck and ram my aching cock deeper into his hot mouth.
Jeff stopped milking my dick and smugly asked, "Being tamed
ain't to bad, is it, Circus Boy?"
Oh, Shit! Don't stop!" I moaned.
Jeff's smile turned to fury. Grabbing my coveralls, he
pulled me tight into him. "I'm doing the training, Circus boy!
Don't you forget it!"
Shayla's emerald eyes intently watched me she knew
everything.
Jeff called the tiger commanding her in another language.
The tiger growled deep within her throat and lunged.
"Holy shit!" I yelled, and fell on my back against the prop
table. It's true what they say: everything does turn to slow
motion when you think you are looking at the big finish.
The cat stopped short of tearing me apart, instinctively
pinning me against the table with her wieght. I could feel her
hot breath against my face. With the tiger's glistening teeth
only inches away from me, I didn't dare move.
"Good girl, Shayla," Jeff complimented while scratching the
tiger's neck.
Sensing a repreive, I asked, "So now what?"
"If you were to get loose, what would you do?"
"Kill you," I said flatly.
"Just like a tiger," Jeff laughed. His gaze burned into me
as he unbuckled his Levi's and dropped them into the sawdust.
Jeff's huge tool hung halfway down to his knees. Wrapping both
hands around the thick shaft, he slowly stroked his hulking
member. "You want this, Circus Boy? Come and get it!"
As Jeff's dick swelled to its full enormous length, I saw
that his shaft was ribbed with heavy veins pumping hot blood into
his cock's pruple head. Beneath this goliath dong hung a nutsack
that looked like it was filled with two apples.
My mind swirled with rageand good, old, rutting lust. I
still wanted to kill the sonofabitch -- but only after I had my
way with his huge cock.
Part of the heat I felt was from the tiger still hovering
over me. I suddenly remembered my dream of running with the
tigers, naked and sweat-soaked, one animal wrestling down another
in the jungle. My raging cock filled to the top with fury.
"Shayla!" I barked. The tiger's eyes widened with
anticipation. "Get off!" I commanded firmly.
For an awful moment nothing happened. Then she gently
withdrew and plopped down at my feet, nuzzling her neck against
my leg.
Now that "pussykins" was out of the way, I lunged at Jeff,
knocking him into the sawdust. I heard growls and snarls, and
thought Shayla was ging to finish her job, but it was Jeff making
the cat noises. We struggled like two jungle beasts ready to
tear each other apart. Jeff clawed at me, shedding my coveralls
as we fought. I pinned him to the floor and wrapped my hungry
mouth around his steel hard rod. Jeff wrestled around in the
sawdust and swalowed my own throbbing manshaft.
I no longer smelled the circus sawdust; instead the hot
stench of jungle dampness swelled through my nostrils. Jeff
clawed and pulled me tighter as I savagely rammed my cock deeper
into him. I grabbed hold of my achingnuts and squeezed hot lava
up through my white-hot prick.
The tiger roared with the same jungle fever I felt rushing
through my guts. Throwing my head back in final abandon, I yowled
with nerve-shattering ecstasy as I shook my gushing load into
Jeff's waiting mouth.
Jeff growled and ferociously threw his sweat slicked body
on top of me. My jaws locked tightly onto Jeff's gargantuan cock
mercilessly pumping in my throat. His eyes gleamed with crazed
cock-driven energy. Howling with animal delight, Jeff pulled me
onto his ramming piston. when I could take no more, he grabbed
my neck and poured a scalding river thick tiger milk into me.
Panting like jungle animals, we collapsed in exhaustion, our
bodies covered in sweat, sawdust and spunk. Neither of us moved
for what seemed like an eternity. Our breaths slowly drifted
into a rythm of relaxed contentment as we rejoined Circus Land.
Finally, Jeff said, "You know, I really gotta find a way of
working this into the act.:
After we moved shayla back with the rest of the tigers, Jeff
threw a pile of blankets on the concrete. "I'm not going back to
the train. I always stay with the cats while we're in town," he
explained. "Wanna join us?"
Crawling beside him, I said, "one of these days, you're
gonna wind up in that cage with the wrong cat."
"Never happen," he said, wrapping an arm around me. "Every
cat can be tamed, Circus Boy. you just gotta know how to do it."
