“I know you can take care of yourself. You were a coach, weren’t you? Before you were a director?”
“Yes.”
“Were you ever a performer? Did you grow up in a circus family?”
Jason turned on the water and leaned on the counter, waiting for it to get hot. “No, I grew up in Sacramento. Slight difference.”
“You did acrobatics in Sacramento?”
“I took gymnastics.” He shrugged. “Only because my sisters took it and I was bored hanging out at the gym with my mom. I got better than either of them, but I never used it for performance. I did get a scholarship to a university. To UCLA.”
“For gymnastics team?”
“No, I got too tall to compete.” Jason could feel himself flushing. “The scholarship was for cheerleading.”
“Cheerleading? What’s that?”
He thought a moment, considering how to explain cheerleading to a trapezist from the Mongolian wild. “It’s a quasi-sport, an American thing. I did back flips and tumbling and tossed girls up in the air and caught them. Like banquine, I suppose, but less classy. There was lots of yelling. Megaphones.”
Her forehead wrinkled at megaphones. “Do you have any pictures?”
“No. There’s no photo evidence. And if you ever tell anyone I cheered, I’ll spank your ass until it catches on fire.”
She took a sip of tea. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. It was a form of performance, yes? I’m sure you were very good at it. Very handsome and strong.”
He tucked the last of the plates in the dishwasher. “I’ll put it this way. Cheerleading doesn’t scream masculinity. Or intellectualism. But it earned me a free degree, which my parents appreciated.”
“You have a university degree?” This seemed to shock and delight her. He returned to sit with her at the table, puffing out his chest.
“I have an advanced degree, little slave girl. A Masters in Sports Science and Administration. Are you impressed?”
She grinned at him. “I am very impressed.”
“When you don’t grow up in the circus, like certain lucky people, you have to get fancy degrees and claw your way into the life.”
She snuggled against his side as he scooted his chair closer to hers. “I never went to college,” she said. “I only went six years to compulsory school, and then two years of tutors in the circus. I’m not that smart. I could never figure out math.”
Jason laughed. “There’s this stereotype that all Asian people are good at math. But then, you’re different. You can see that just by looking at your eyes.”
She covered her face. “My stupid eyes.”
He pulled her hands away. “What do you mean by that?”
She was always so relaxed, so mild, but for a moment he saw fierce anger in her features. “You think they’re pretty, but I’ve always hated my eyes. They make people stare. I want to get those contacts. The ones you talked about, that can change your eye color.”
“You’ll get contacts like that over my dead body. Your eyes are beautiful, Sara.”
“To you they are,” she retorted.
It wasn’t a tone he liked, or any tone he’d ever heard from her, but he realized she was upset. “Are you going to get all snippity with Master?” he asked lightly. “I wish you wouldn’t. I gave you a compliment. You should accept it gracefully.”
“I’m sorry.” She blinked and looked down into her cup. “Thank you for saying my eyes are beautiful. I’m glad if you find them...pleasing.”
“Come here.”
She gazed up at him in consternation, but he wasn’t going to punish her. She looked like she needed a hug. Something was on her mind, something she wasn’t sharing. Work stress? The Cirque could seem overwhelming to new recruits. He stroked her hair as she nestled her face under his chin. He whispered to her that he loved her, that she was beautiful and strong. He caressed her all over, massaging, soothing, squeezing her ass that always carried bruises and marks from their various sessions.
“Is everything okay in your world?” he asked when he felt her relaxing. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”
She paused—hesitated?—but then she shook her head. “Everything’s wonderful. Thank you for asking.” Her fingers curled on his arm, tracing his bicep. He wanted to take her upstairs and fuck her to oblivion. In a little while. Talk to her first. Part of his job as her Master was to look after her, and develop her into the best person she could be.
He hugged her close and rested his chin on her hair. “If you want to get a degree, little one, you can. I’m sure you’re smart enough, and the Cirque has programs for that.”
“The Cirque helps people go to university?”
“If they want to. People can’t do circus forever. Some performers get tired, or injured. The program helps them develop alternative careers.”
“I’ll need to get a show first, I guess. Before Mr. Lemaitre will pay for something like that.”
“You’ll get a show. There’s no reason why you wouldn’t.”
“Unless something happened.”
“Like what?”
She was quiet a moment. “What would happen if Baat got sick? If something happened and he couldn’t perform?”
He eased her back, searching her face. “Why? Is something wrong with Baat?”
She looked away, shaking her head. “No, but what would happen? Or what if I got sick? What happens when one person in the act can’t continue?”
“Circus people don’t get sick very often. What’s going on with Baat? Is he giving you a hard time?”
“Not really,” she said. “I’m just asking what would happen if...if something happened.”
Vaguest question ever. He tried to quiet her concerns. “If there are problems between partners, we try to work things out. It’s best to stay with the partner you have, unless things are really bad. In that case, the act is scrapped completely. Which is probably for the best.”
“They get rid of the people?”
“They might offer them some other type of act. It depends on the performer, their level of skill, their variety of experience. How long they’ve been with the company.” He forced her gaze back to his. “But you shouldn’t worry about any of this. Lemaitre will keep Baat here. Everything will be fine.”
“But what if he gets sick? What if he gets...cancer or something? Something where he really can’t perform?”
“Cancer? Oh, Sara. I think you should worry less about crazy stuff and start enjoying your new career. You and Baat will blow everyone away at the Exhibition, and you’ll get placed in a show, and then Baat won’t be so grumpy. Once you’re performing every night, with the crowds and the applause, he’ll come around. He’ll see how much better it is than Circus Mongolia, or anywhere else, for that matter. For now, hang in there, okay?”
“Okay, Master. I’ll try.”
“I’m here for you, baby, always, if things ever get too much. But I don’t think you should worry about Baat getting cancer. It’s not going to happen. And I’m not going to worry about you telling Theo I used to be a cheerleader, because that’s not going to happen either, right?”
She giggled and pressed her face into his neck. “Don’t you think Theo would want to know?”
“Literally, I would spank you until you died.”
She laughed harder and pretended to shudder. “I wouldn’t be a very good slave if I displeased my Master.”
When she talked like that, it set him on fire. “You please me, little one.” She looked up at him with her sweet, adoring gaze and he thought, Jesus Christ, I’m so in love with you. Way too far in love with you, for being four weeks into this. He fondled her breasts, then down between her legs, swallowing a groan as she ground against his erection through his increasingly snug jeans. He set her a little away from him before he lost his train of thought. “You please me so much that I have a surprise for you. We’re going to the Citadel with Theo and Kelsey this weekend. They’ve invited us for dinner, and drinks