The Traveling Man

  I gaped at him. “Cirque du Soleil want your act? But that’s awesome!”

  “I can’t go,” he said.

  “What? Why not?”

  “Dono,” he said simply.

  “But … he wouldn’t want to hold you back?”

  “This is his life,” Kes said quietly. “If I left him, I don’t think he’d carry on.” He shrugged. “And anyway, they didn’t want the horses—they don’t do animal acts. But I’d have to be 18 anyway. The guy backed off when he found out I’m 16.” Kes smirked at me. “Guess I look older.”

  As he continued to stare, his smile slipped away, and the hunger that had been simmering inside blazed to life.

  I licked my lips, my stomach clenching and my blood flaming to match his.

  When Kes leaned in to kiss me, every thought rushed away—until the bitch Sorcha interrupted us again.

  “The rubes are lining up,” she said, sneering at me on the word ‘rube’. “Twenty minutes till show time.”

  Kes sighed against my lips. “I’d better get ready. Stay for the show?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” I said honestly.

  Kes’s ‘costume’ hadn’t changed much in the last couple of years. He was still barefoot and bare chested, but this time, Sorcha was hanging over him, covering his face with ghostly white powder and circling his eyes with thick black liner. Then she painted what looked like ivy growing up from his neck to his temple. The effect was surprisingly eerie, and I reluctantly had to admit that she was doing a great job.

  Sorcha’s costume was Bride of Frankenstein meets Caspar. She was wearing a skimpy bra top that looked two sizes too small, and a floaty chiffon skirt that made her legs seem to go on forever. I hated her.

  Her makeup matched Kes’s and they looked like a perfectly ghoulish but beautiful couple.

  I could see why the Cirque du Soleil agent had been surprised by Kes’s age. He looked like a man; Sorcha was all woman, and I looked like a little girl.

  When the drumbeat started, the small arena stilled, a few whispers rippling around the ring. And then Kes galloped out holding two flaming torches, with Sorcha riding behind him, clinging to his waist.

  My jealousy was so bitter that I wanted to throw up, but the audience clapped and whistled.

  She slid gracefully to the ground, her bare feet sinking into the sawdust. Her focus was on Kes as he galloped around her. He hung from Jakey’s neck as he planted one torch to Sorcha’s left and the second to her right, so her wild hair seemed to catch fire. The two other guys galloped into the ring, each tossing a lit torch to Kes. They were dressed head to toe in black, a contrast to Kes’s bare skin that made them appear threatening.

  And then the show began. Kes stood on Jakey’s racing back briefly, then leapt to the ground.

  He juggled the flaming torches, ran, jumped, and somersaulted onto and from Jakey’s back again and again, always fluid, always in motion. I held my breath until my head spun. He wasn’t born for an office or a desk job; he was born to thrill, to make you gasp, to stop you in your tracks so you’d have to ask, how did he do that?

  Sixty minutes later, the audience was on their feet, stamping and yelling. I was almost afraid that the bleachers would collapse. Kes’s body glistened with sweat and his chest and stomach heaved, but the look on his face—he’d found his own little slice of heaven. I was proud of him, and I was on my feet, too. Heavy envy made me dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands until they stung, because Kes scooped Sorcha into his arms and tossed her onto Jacob Jones before leaping up behind her and riding out of the ring.

  “Oh my God! He is so hot!” shrieked a girl sitting behind me.

  “You’ll never guess who I saw him with in town this afternoon,” said a familiar voice. “411 alert—Lamey Aimee!”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I recognized the screeching: Lauren and Camilla.

  “Totally!” Lauren continued. “And they looked pretty cozy.”

  Camilla laughed coldly. “There’s no way a girl like Lamey can keep a guy like him satisfied, if you know what I mean.”

  They all laughed and a warm flush rose up my cheeks.

  “Well, duh!” laughed Lauren. “That little virgin wouldn’t know what to do with a stud like that. But it’s obvious he’s banging that hooch from the show. It’s too funny! Lamey Aimee has a carnie boyfriend!”

  “Not for long,” said Camilla. “Just watch me.”

  They all laughed, like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

  I wanted to stand up and shout that he was mine, but instead I slid further into my seat and hoped that they wouldn’t see me. Then I cursed myself for being so pathetic.

  As soon as they left, I hurried to the RV.

  Hooch-face was there, cleaning off Kes’s makeup, and they were both laughing. My heart fluttered and something inside me felt like it died. I had to get a grip on this horrible jealousy—but how do you stop the monster that whispers and cackles, telling you that you’re second choice, second best?

  I tried to smile, but I probably looked like I’d swallowed something bad. I forced myself to plaster on my game face.

  “You guys were amazing out there. The makeup was really great, Sorcha.”

  See? I could rise above my petty jealousy.

  But the skanky bitch ignored me.

  Kes turned to smile. “Thanks, Aimee. Sorcha did a great job—as usual.”

  My smile turned into a grimace as she grabbed his chin so he had to face her again.

  “Keep still,” she snapped.

  I wanted to die when he winked at her.

  “Kes, I have to go now,” I said, my voice sick.

  “Really?” he said, sounding disappointed. “I thought we could hang out some more.”

  “I’m kind of tired,” I lied.

  “Probably past her bedtime,” Sorcha sniggered.

  Kes laughed and his eyes glittered. “Yeah, probably.”

  “Okay, so … see ya,” I said faintly.

  I walked away, not wanting to watch them share any more smiles. But then my new phone buzzed in my pocket, and I jumped.

  The message said:

  * Leaf ur wind open *

  I wanted to stay awake, but lack of sleep the night before and the sheer turmoil of every possible emotion during the day had worn me out. I jerked awake when I heard a soft thud on my bedroom floor.

  “Kes?”

  I don’t know why I said that—nobody else had ever climbed through my window in the middle of the night.

  He didn’t speak as he crawled up the mattress. I could smell soap and hay, so I knew that he’d showered, then bedded the ponies down for the night.

  Kes never asked if he could kiss me, he just took what he wanted, what he knew I’d give him. His lips were warm and firm as he searched for my mouth, kissing up my neck and across my cheeks. I ran my hands along his spine and I heard the breath catch in his throat.

  When he yanked his damp t-shirt over his head, I drowned in the feeling of his silky skin and hard muscle under my fingers.

  His kisses became deeper, an edge of impatience in them that made my blood catch fire.

  His hands roamed under my t-shirt, and I hissed with shock and pleasure as he squeezed my breast with one hand and tugged at my panties with the other.

  “Kes, we have to stop,” I moaned against his throat.

  “Why?” he whispered, before his teeth fastened over my nipple.

  I was finding it hard to remember the reasons, because his hands, his breath, the heat of his skin, it made my body sing.

  He unzipped his pants, then grabbed my hand and pushed it inside his jeans.

  “Touch me!” he hissed.

  Shocked but not scared, I wrapped my fingers around his hard cock, surprised by the heat pulsing in my hand. I squeezed tentatively and Kes moaned, a long, feral groan of pleasure. I pumped him a couple of times and he buried his face in my neck, his body shudd
ering.

  “Oh shit!” he gasped, and then he came all over my hand.

  I was so stunned, I almost giggled, but I managed to keep my mouth shut.

  Kes rolled onto his back and flung one arm across his beautiful face, breathing hard.

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, but my hand felt all sticky and gross. So I groped on my table for a tissue and cleaned myself up, wondering if I should, I don’t know, dab his dick or something. In the end, I decided to leave it to him.

  Now he was peaceful, I could appreciate the hard planes of his chest and stomach in the moonlight, the body that was almost a man, his beautiful face that still had a little of the round softness of a child. And he was here, in my bed. I felt calm and excited, like I could fly to the moon or float away on an ocean of bliss.

  Slowly, Kes peeled his arm away from his face and turned to look at me.

  “You didn’t come, did you?”

  “No, but that’s okay.”

  He frowned and scrubbed his hands over his eyes, the moon’s pale light softening the hardness I sometimes saw in his eyes.

  “The girl’s supposed to come first,” he sighed.

  I immediately felt like I must be defective in some way. Was that how it was supposed to happen? I wasn’t even entirely sure I’d ever had an orgasm. I touched myself, sometimes, and it felt nice, but that was all.

  “Um, sorry,” I said nervously.

  Kes chuckled. “Jeez, Aimee! That’s not what I meant! It was amazing to feel your hands on me.”

  “Don’t you do it all the time? I thought boys were always…”

  Kes eyed me thoughtfully. “What makes you think that?”

  I laughed, more than a little embarrassed. “One of the girls at school—she says her brother … well, anyway…”

  Kes grinned and kissed the crook of my elbow, which I thought was adorable.

  “I don’t do it as much as I’d like. There’s no privacy. I get like three minutes max in the shower. And that’s not usually enough to rub one out and wash. Dono’s on my case about wasting water the whole time because it’s a pain if the tank runs out.”

  “That was less than three minutes,” I pointed out.

  Kes looked a bit embarrassed. “Only because it was you touching me.”

  That made me smile.

  Then without any hint of self-consciousness, he kicked off his jeans so he was completely naked, and pulled me against his chest, kissing me senseless.

  I could feel he was already hard again. Did that mean he wanted me to give him another hand job? I reached down to stroke him and he groaned, then pushed my hand away and started kissing up my neck, his breath hot against my shivering body.

  “No, I want to see if I can make you come.”

  “Oh, okay. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

  He paused in his kissing, then looked me in the eye.

  “Oh yeah, I really want to.”

  “Have you…” I hesitated, not certain I wanted him to answer my question.

  “Have I what?” he murmured as he made his way down my chest to my breasts.

  “Um, with another girl?”

  He paused, his mouth around my breast, and then pulled away with a soft pop.

  “I’ve done some stuff,” he admitted grudgingly.

  “Oh.”

  I could hear the disappointment in my tone, so I was darn sure he could, too.

  “I haven’t gone all the way,” he said quietly.

  “Well, what have you done?” I asked, my voice brittle.

  He sighed. “Just fooled around, you know?”

  “Not really,” I snapped. “I haven’t even kissed another boy.”

  “Aimee…”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, even though it did.

  Maybe it was irrational, but it hurt to hear him say that there had been other girls. Maybe he climbed into their bedrooms, too. Maybe he…

  “It didn’t mean anything.”

  His sharp words interrupted my increasingly lurid imaginings.

  “Sure,” I said, trying and failing to keep the ache out of my voice.

  “Look,” he said, his voice rising with anger. “The guy’s supposed to know what to do!”

  “So, that’s your excuse for going with some skank?” I said disbelievingly.

  I was stupid. I was naïve. We’d been dating officially for just a few hours. I wanted to kick myself, but I couldn’t stop my stupid mouth from voicing every insecurity I’d ever had.

  “Jesus! I haven’t, okay?!”

  When I spoke again, my voice was small. “Really?”

  “No!”

  He hesitated, and I could see the moonlight reflected in his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling.

  “This one time…” He paused, glancing at me quickly. “A girl sucked me off. But that was all.”

  Tears prickled behind my eyes. “When did that happen?”

  “Does it matter?” he snapped. When I didn’t reply, he eventually relented. “A few months back.”

  “Was it Sorcha?”

  He laughed humorlessly. “No. Just some girl.”

  I swallowed and plucked at the sheet so I didn’t have to look at him.

  “Am I … am I just some girl?”

  His body jerked and then he pulled me into his arms so I was lying across his chest again.

  “No! God, no. You’re my friend. You’re … different … special.”

  That wasn’t exactly what I needed to hear. But it would have to do.

  I snuggled into his bare chest some more. “I like that you’re a virgin, too,” I said.

  A surprised laugh rattled out of him.

  “Yeah? Even though I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing?”

  “We can figure it out,” I said. “Although I’ve got a rough idea of how it all fits together.”

  He laughed softly. “God, you’re something else, Aimee.”

  “Have you only just noticed?” I asked, a smile in my voice.

  “No,” he said, his voice serious. “I’ve always known that.”

  “Good.”

  His lips brushed across my shoulder.

  “I could try to get you off then?”

  I rolled my eyes—it seemed like such a guy thing to say when we were having a romantic moment.

  “I’m kind of tired now and I’m really comfortable. Maybe tomorrow?”

  “Okay.”

  I could hear the disappointment in his voice, but he didn’t try to push me.

  We lay together peacefully, one of Kes’s hands around my waist, the other stroking my arm. As I lay on his chest, I listened to the strong, steady beat of his heart. It was reassuring.

  I jolted awake and stared in shock at the clock on my bedside table. Sun was pouring in the window, and Kes’s beautiful eyes were blinking at me in confusion. Then I heard Mom calling up the stairs.

  “Aimee, bring your laundry down, will you? I’m going to do a wash in a minute. Aimee?”

  “Answer your mother,” came my father’s angry voice.

  “Holy shit!” I gasped, leaping out of bed and looking around me wildly.

  Kes sat up, his eyes wide.

  And yet even with the seriousness of the situation, I couldn’t help the hot glance as my eyes slid down his beautiful naked body.

  “Coming, Mom!” I yelled, tearing my eyes away and pulling on a pair of shorts.

  Kes grinned at me as he stood and let the sheet fall away. I couldn’t help looking, and my eyes nearly fell out of my head when I caught an eyeful of what I guessed must be the legendary morning wood. His dick seemed larger in daylight, and I wasn’t sure how that was even possible—I hadn’t been able to get my fingers all the way around him last night.

  He dragged on his jeans and stuffed his dick in his pants, wincing slightly. We both searched for his t-shirt as Mom yelled at me again.

  “Where the fuck are my sneakers?” he muttered.

  I found one under the bed and he fou
nd the second tangled up in the sheets. I had no idea how that happened.

  “See you later?” he whispered.

  I nodded furiously, shooing him with my hands.

  But he grabbed my waist and kissed me dizzy before he winked and launched himself out of the window.

  I nearly had a heart attack. He hadn’t even bothered with the tree—he just jumped right out of the window. I gasped and ran to look, but he was already sprinting to the safety of the hickory tree. He turned once, waved, and then jogged toward the carnival field.

  As quickly as I could, I gathered an armful of dirty clothes and ran down the stairs, nearly tripping over Jennifer. She blocked my path as I tried to pass her.

  “We need to talk!” she hissed.

  I had a horrible feeling I knew what the topic was going to be.

  I stuffed my clothes in the washing machine, and probably gave myself an ulcer trying to act normal while we all sat around the breakfast table. Breakfasts were the worst meal of the day because Dad insisted that we all eat together, like some Norman Rockwell family. I mean really, like, “Please, would you pass the jelly?”, “May I have a second glass of juice?”

  I didn’t know if he believed in the illusion, but it was a façade we were all expected to keep up. The falseness grated on me more each year.

  Recently, Dad had taken up golf, becoming almost fanatical about it. I think we all breathed a sigh of relief because it meant he was out of the house all day each Saturday.

  But I couldn’t avoid Jennifer. She kept throwing me searching looks, so I wasn’t surprised when she followed me up to my room after breakfast.

  I sat on the bed, arms folded, and waited for the inquisition.

  “Kes stayed last night,” she said flatly. “I know, because I saw him leave about five minutes before breakfast.”

  I wondered if I could get away with saying that he’d only just arrived and I wouldn’t let him in, but the look on Jennifer’s face told me it wasn’t worth lying.

  “Yes, he did,” I said at last.