Spotlights chased the sparkling blur of spandex and ponytails tumbling toward the flaming pit below. A split second more and surely the inferno would devour her. A muscular man swung past dangling from a trapeze, and snatched her by the wrists. Applause erupted from the hushed crowd with the ferocity of a raging volcano.

The ovation passed through striped tent walls, rumbled over scarecrows guarding neighboring corn fields, and startled a woman up to no good. Alison struck her head against a rusted trailer hitch. She gulped curse words down her throat as pain drilled through grey matter between her ears.

Mumbled words echoed from the ringmaster's megaphone, again working up the crowd. Faded posters plastered on the sides of dark trailers billed the circus as the greatest spectacle on earth.

She wanted to hit at least one more trailer before she called it quits. After the show, the carnies would pack up and move along. They should be halfway to Kansas City before anybody noticed anything missing, or so she hoped.

She double-checked her surroundings before creeping up to the door of a small trailer with darkened windows. Cool autumn breezes carried tempting scents of roasting popcorn. Childhood memories laced with colorful balloons and stuffed animals projected their imagery against the backs of her eyes before they were blinked away with a tear. She didn't have time for that shit now. The score needed to be huge. It could be cash or anything she could swap for cash in a hurry.

The viscous rumors that painted carnies as notorious drug users, so far proved themselves true. Alison managed to fill her pack half-full with weed, meth, and bottles of pills she couldn't pronounce, but knew she could sell. She only needed enough money for a bus ticket and two months' rent. Hollywood was an expensive Babylon to offer her soul up to, but she would rather take her chances scrounging on the golden coast than grow fat and rot away in some hayseed town.

She flicked out a switchblade, and made quick work of the lock with steady hands, even though her heart thundered against her ribs. She cracked the door, listened for movement on high alert, ready to make a run for it if things turned bad. After slipping inside, she closed the door behind her with a soft tug. A quick turn of the deadbolt added an extra layer of warning.

Alison crouched in darkness haunted with scents of stale cigars and spilt cheap beer. She clicked on a flashlight, reminding herself to keep the beam low, and quickly cataloged everything the beam illuminated. Dog-eared circus posters yellowed with age. Dishes piled high in a small steel sink. Torn labels from around the globe covered a heavy wooden chest. The next sight twisted her guts into knots.

Her blue eyes darted around the treasure scattered across the antique vanity crammed into the small space. Emotions wrestled whether to laugh or cry. Her brain needed to gather more evidence before it could come to some agreement with what her heart already knew. A candy tin filled with fine brushes, crumbling makeup sponges, and twisted tubes of greasepaint sealed the verdict. It could only belong to one of the most beloved, yet often feared, circus entertainers.

The treasure drew her closer, entrancing her with resurrected dreams lost so long ago. Before she realized what had come over her, she rolled back the wheeled stool and seated herself. Her fingers plucked a round, red nose from a collection housed inside a cigar box. She shined her light across the rows of exaggerated hats and colorful wigs dangling overhead. The foam nose, carefully balanced between her fingers, regained her attention. Her eyes locked upon her reflection in the tarnished mirror. The desire to smear colorful paint over her lips overtook her thoughts. Vapors rising from caked layers of rubber cement smelled sweet as candy when she squeezed the nose over her own.

Ever since she was a child, Alison had dreamed of becoming one. She tried it a few times, had a costume and all. Dressed up for birthday parties and endured kicks to the shins from bratty kids, made twenty bucks here and there. She even mastered twisting balloons into animal shapes, although blowing them up was always a bitch. Her so-called friends had teased her non-stop, called her Alley Clown until they bludgeoned her dreams to death with their cruelty. She finally drove to the edge of town with tears streaming down her cheeks and dumped her dreams down a well over by the Hanson's farm.

Alison snapped herself back from agonized recollections. A pair of white gloves somehow appeared on both her hands.

How did those get there? Any memory seemed to escape her.

The lock rattled, snapping her head toward the sound. Icy panic flooded her veins. Her legs sprang her ass off the stool even though there was no escape. "Shit," she gasped.

The door swung inward. Terror gripped her within its silent shroud. Every heartbeat constricted her throat. She was trapped, powerless to do anything but watch the tall figure clamber inside. A dim light clicked on overhead. Her eyes locked onto his. Black slits glared from the centers of blue diamonds.

A squeak escaped through her lips. The clown's puzzled face melted into darkness as Alison blacked out.

# 
A hand slapped her face. Alison's eyelids fluttered open. She found herself lying on a stiff mattress with her feet propped on a pile of dirty laundry.

"Where am I?" she mumbled. Her head throbbed. Everything was a blur.

"You're in my place." Authority saturated the man's voice. "And, if you don't mind, I'd like to know what you're doing here. You scared the shit out of me."

His chiseled features floated into focus. White makeup was still smeared through his five o'clock shadow where he didn't have a chance to wash it away. Smoky mascara streaked around his eyes. His handsome looks were not what she expected to find hidden behind greasepaint.

"Well, I'm waiting, or maybe you'd rather explain it to the cops."

"Well, I…" Her drifting eyes spotted her backpack tossed against the foot of the bed. It appeared zipped tight. Hopefully he didn't look inside.

"Were you trying to rob me?" He rubbed makeup away from his cheek with a stained cloth.

"No, I…"

"So what are you doing in my trailer?"

She paused before taking a deep breath. "I was going to rob your place, but…"

"But what?"

"But then, I noticed you're a clown."

"What? Do you have something against clowns?"

"No, no. Actually, I love clowns. I always wanted to be one, I just…"

"Well, you look pretty good for one." He chuckled. "Nice nose."

"What?" Her hand flew up and her eyes crossed. She was still wearing the nose and gloves.

"I kept them on you, thought it was funny." He chuckled again. "So what's your name anyway?"

"Alison." Her cheeks blushed as she ripped off the nose.

"So, Alison, are you feeling all right? You took quite a spill there."

"I think so. You know, I really ought to be going." She leaned over to snatch her bag.

"Wait." He gently pressed her down with a strong hand. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Sorry for bugging you. I'll get out of here now." Shame bowed her head as she walked toward the door. She grabbed the handle and twisted.

"So, you really wanted to be a clown?"

"Yeah." She glanced behind, with one foot dangling out the door.

"Before you go, tell me what really stopped you from doing it."

She surveyed where the dirt path wound through the trailer camp before vanishing into the field. A huge part of her wanted to leap from the steps, run through the towering cornstalks, and disappear into the night. She knew it was foolish to utter another word; he could have called the cops already for all she knew.

"Well," she looked up at him, "I always had a problem lining things up."

"Get the fuck out of here!" His laughter exploded.

Her eyes bulged from the shock of his outburst.

"Are you serious? I mean, you're a girl, and a cute one at that, so I figure you would be good with makeup. Do you know how long I had to practice putting on whiteface until I didn't look like something out of a horror movie?"

Alison shrugged. "I always had a problem with that, too."

"Oh, there are some simple fixes for that."

"Really?"

"Yeah, if you want, I could give you some pointers."

"You'd do that for me? Why?"

"Why not? Set your stuff on the kitchen table."

"Um, okay." Uncertainty clouded her judgment. She glanced at the dirt path a final time before stepping back inside and shutting the door. Part of her still wanted to run.

Allison set her backpack on the table as instructed. Fluttering nerves pushed for her to check and double check the zippers. The clown walked towards his dressing table and flicked on a switch. Yellow filaments sparked to life within vintage bulbs lining the edges.

"Here, catch!" He tossed a large jar of cold cream at her. Her fingers juggled it around, nearly dropping it, before finding a grip. "Rub some of this on your face. It makes the white go on much easier."

She unscrewed the cap, dipped her fingers into the cool, slimy cream, and rubbed it into her skin. She tried her best to study every move the clown made while setting up his supplies.

"Here, sit on the stool." He patted the old cracked cushion.

"All right." Alison took a seat and stared at herself in the mirror as if she were a stranger.


What am I really doing here? she thought.

"Okay, turn towards me." He held up a wedged makeup sponge dabbed with white. "First thing you need to do, make sure you always use a good sponge."

She leaned toward him as he brushed makeup across her face with short strokes. Her eyes focused on his dark eyebrows curling with concentration. "So, what's your name?"

"Bubbles." He never broke his stride while dabbing white over her nose.

"No, I mean, your real name."

He dropped his arms, leaned back, and smiled. "Sorry, everyone around here calls me Bubbles. My real name is Michael."

"Well Michael," sitting this close allowed her to take in every one of his striking features, "thanks for the help."

"You can call me Mike. Now, just hold still. Close your eyes, but not too tight."

She lowered her eyelids yet she could still see his face. His warm voice infused her bloodstream with morphine-like euphoria. The faint scent of his sweat, masked by spray-on cologne and old cigars, lingered over her palette, putting her further under his spell. Textures from different brushes caressed her eyelids and flicked her lashes. His hand brushed against her leg, which rushed tingles through her core.

Alison opened her eyes when requested. She focused on his lips moving with further tutorials, but the words never reached her ears. She lost herself in deep study, examining every fleck of color in his green eyes while he worked. She found herself counting every microscopic detail of his perfect lips, still stained with red from his earlier performance. Her eyes grew heavy and rolled toward the mirror just in time to witness the last of her face disappear beneath white makeup.

"For the colorful parts, use a good brush. Hey, are you paying attention?"

"What?" She snapped from his spell and blushed when she met his condescending stare. "Sorry, I'm listening. Use a good brush for the colors, got it."

"That's right. Use long, steady strokes." He selected a well-worn brush, and dipped the tip into light purple paint before aiming the bristles with a steady grip. "Hold still."

"You got it."

The features of Michael's face tensed when he touched the brush above her eye. Warm, steady breaths washed down her neck, permeated the lace of her thin bra, and bristled her nipples. Her line of sight glided across his dark stubble, followed the angle of his jaw, watched his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed. A few dark ringlets peeked up from the neck of his white T-shirt. His pectoral muscles flexed with slow, hypnotic rhythms while creating his art.

He next selected a fine brush and twirled it within a darker shade of violet. Alison smiled at him before he began tracing details around her eyes. She observed her reflection from the corner of her eye. The tip of the brush painted a thin eyebrow over her new white flesh. When it touched her again, a craving woke from deep within her.

Her gaze wandered back to Michael.

She studied the folds in his ears and noticed silver hoops dangling from his earlobes, which she somehow overlooked before. She felt powerless to stop the sudden urge to glance down. She focused on the bulge swelling inside his baggy, striped pants. His arousal reassured her she wasn't the only one getting turned on.

"Okay, now look towards me." He held a brush dipped in bright pink greasepaint. He painted her lips with precision before outlining them with a darker shade. His attention to detail prevented him from noticing her eyes undressing him. She crossed her knees and tried to ignore the sweet ache building between her legs.

Michael selected a light pink powder. Clouds resembling shades of cotton candy puffed into the air when he tapped a thick rouge brush against the edge. He raised his head to study the best place to accent her high cheeks when he noticed her attentive stare. Slowly their gazes drifted together until their eyes locked. He quickly looked away.

"So, why do you really want to be a clown?" His fingers trembled as he dusted her cheeks with pink.

"There's just something about the mystique. I think you can feel safe behind the makeup and be set free of your fears."

Michael returned a slow nod and set the brush down. The instant its handle dropped from his fingers, Alison leaned over to kiss him, finally surrendering to the impulses surging through her. At first he resisted, but then gave way when her hungry tongue rolled over his lips. Their mouths melted together. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer.

"You make a really hot clown," Michael ground out.

"Shhh…" She sealed her lips over his and explored the texture of his tongue with her own.

His hands hovered down her back, grazing the sides of her breasts, before settling on her hips. She pressed against him so she could feel his cock straining against her thigh. She traced its contour with her fingertips, smiling when it flexed in response to her touch. Her fingers glided over striped fabric, cupped his balls, and gently squeezed.

"Fuck." He moaned while reaching up to cup her breasts with his hands. His thumbs circled her stiff nipples before pressing against them with slow, firm pressure.

Alison kissed over his stubble, while running her hands over his chest to squeeze at his nipples. Warmth radiated between her thighs. Anticipation danced around her pussy when his hand started its slow glide up her leg. She spread her knees and rocked her pelvis toward him. She just about came when his fingers stroked over her jeans and his thumb settled on her clit.

Lost in the heat of each other's arms and mouths, she hungered for more. Alison left a trail of bright, pink lip prints along Michael's neck before eagerness grabbed hold of her. She shifted from the stool, kneeled between his legs, and peeled apart his zipper. Her hands discovered he was a boxer fan before moving inside to search for his cock. With a gentle motion, she slid it through the hole of his plaid boxers, only to find herself staring with surprise. The tip of his thick, uncut cock swelled in her grip. She had never seen an uncircumcised guy before, but she certainly wasn't going to let it stop her now.

Her tongue spiraled over the edges, savoring his warm, tender flesh. Her fingers coaxed his foreskin back along his shaft to reveal the smooth head of his cock. Her cunt ached deep inside when a pearl of pre-cum beaded at the top. A soft moan of pleasure escaped from her throat when she licked the jewel away and another oozed forth. She glanced up and smiled at the pleasure brewing in his concentrated stare. Her hand teased with slow strokes while she smeared his cock against her chin. He reached down and freed her blonde hair from its pony tail. Soft golden curls spilled into his lap. She threw back her head to clear her way before guiding his cock into the back of her throat.

Michael writhed on the stool. He rubbed her firm tits and reached his hand inside her shirt to explore more of her skin. Alison's tongue pleasured every throbbing inch of his engorged flesh. One of her hands found its way inside his pants to massage his balls. She felt his sack tighten. She sensed from his rapid breaths that his delight was about to peak.

"Okay, please stop for a minute." He struggled to keep his balance on the rickety stool.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, no…it's just…I was about to come, and I don't want this to be over yet."

"Do you have any rubbers?" Her hands stroked his thighs but her eyes never left his cock.

"Yeah, in the back."

"Then let's go." She stood and walked toward the tiny bedroom. She shed her shirt and jeans along the floor. Michael smiled with approval at the thin, black thong running between her firm ass cheeks. He pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his baggy pants as he followed her.

She rubbed her pussy while waiting for him to join her. "Where are they?"

"Over there." He pointed toward the small nightstand beside the unmade bed.

Her nipples puckered with anticipation when the drawer opened and a stack of foil wrappers caught her eye. She pulled one off and spun to greet him. He stood directly behind her. His eager cock rubbed across her stomach when she turned.

Michael leaned over and kissed her while gently twisting her nipples in slow, opposite directions. He licked around her puckered pink areolas, sucked her nipples between his teeth, and nipped her flesh with tender, grinding teeth. He left a trail of kisses between her cleavage, his warm mouth moving from one breast to the other. His hands flowed down and hooked the thin edges of her thong around his thumbs. He kneeled down, kissing along the flat planes of her stomach, and slid her panties to the ground.

Every warm breath from between his lips conjured a rash of goose bumps across her shaved pussy. Alison grabbed his head and steered it toward her mound. She stared down at his dark mane of sweaty hair and wished there were eyes between her legs so she could watch his tongue lapping her delicate folds. Slow, firm licks painted her pussy with spit and thrills. She spread her thighs and ground her hard clit against his mouth.

Stars danced behind her eyes as pleasure surged through every nerve, buckling her knees. She stretched her arms across the tiny room and steadied herself between a pair of overhead cabinets. Pussy juice dripped down her inner thighs. He wrapped a strong arm around her waist to steady her shuddering body. When he sensed she was about to come, he slid a finger inside her slick folds and immediately found her throbbing g-spot. He sucked her clit between his lips and fingered her until her sweet juices soaked his stubble. Alison's orgasm came so hard she fell against him, pounding her crotch against his mouth. Michael cradled her against his chest but her final wave of pleasure never quite subsided.

"Oh fuck," she gasped. The world spun around her while waves of ecstasy pounded at her senses. "Fuck me, Michael, please. I can't stand it anymore."

She scrambled off the bed and sucked his cock into her mouth. Her hands peeled the rubber from its wrapper while her tongue swirled beneath his foreskin. She sucked as hard as she could then pulled his pulsing cock from her mouth. With one smooth motion she brought up the rubber and slipped it on.

Looks like a balloon, she thought when she unfurled the red sheath of latex along his erection. How fitting!

Alison lay back on the bed, parted her legs, and spread herself. Michael bent his knees and swirled his cock around her wet, glistening pussy. After making her writhe with anticipation, he glided the tip of his hard cock just inside her pussy lips. He paused when the slick walls of her tight cunt wrapped around him. He almost came when he glanced down at her painted face and nude body writhing just for him. With a slow shift of his hips, he filled her with every inch of himself until his balls rested against her quivering asshole, and waited.

She savored every inch of his hard cock shoved deep inside her. Her pussy shook against the euphoric pressure building within her. Her fingers sought her swollen clit until it became too sensitive for even her to touch. She started to come when he swayed his hips against hers. He sucked one of her tits into this mouth and flicked his tongue against her nipple. She panted and whimpered from the surge of pleasure coursing through her. The intensity of her orgasm ignited his lust. He fucked her harder and faster than she had ever been fucked before or would probably ever be fucked again. Their frantic motions rocked the trailer on its axles.

Alison's climax boiled over and fed on itself, sending multiple orgasms rapid firing through all of her senses. Painted nails carved her lust into his back. Every time his tempo or angle changed, it awakened a fresh, thrilling ecstasy through her whole, quivering body. She could barely sigh his name between every time she came.

Her pussy ached for more of him, but she could tell by his face he would soon reach his own bliss. She squeezed her cunt muscles to coax him into blowing his wad, yet somehow he summoned the stamina to resist.

She slid off his cock, twisted onto her knees, and wiggled her sweaty ass at him. "Fuck me from behind. Please, Michael. Fuck me!"

He never said a word, just thrust his raging hard-on back inside her and pounded her from behind. Hot pleasure rippled through her body every time his balls slapped against her ripened clit. He snuck his thumb inside her ass, making her come so hard her vision blurred. Alison collapsed onto the bed, struggling to keep her ass in the air to endure all of the fucking she could stand. His strong hands grabbed her hips and she clenched her pussy with all of the strength she could muster. She knew he couldn't deny climaxing any longer when his arms started to shiver.

"Don't come inside me Michael." She looked over her shoulder at the veins bulging in his neck. "I want to feel it all over me. Don't waste it in a fucking rubber, give it to me!"

All he could do was nod. Controlling the pressure building in his balls demanded all of his attention. He moaned, no longer able to withstand the ecstatic ache surging within his cock. "Oh fuck, I'm going to pop."

"Yeah baby, give it to me!" She spun off the bed, falling on her knees at his feet. He snapped the condom off and she grabbed his throbbing cock with both her hands. She jerked him off hard and fast. He threw his head back and clutched her shoulders.

"Yes!" Alison gasped when the first white dribble ran along her knuckles. "Come all over me!"

Michael's hot juices erupted from him, splattering over her smeared clown face and sweaty tits. Delight fluttered through every pore in her skin. She quickly wrapped her lips over his cock and gulped every last drop from his spasms.

He stood there for a moment, watching her gentle mouth suck his sensitive penis, adoring the sight of her beauty splattered with his load. He couldn't help but flinch when she kissed it one final time. "That was amazing."

"Fuck, I know." She grinned. "You taste great."

"Well, there's more where that came from." He said with a small chuckle; even he knew the pun was terrible.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that offer." She marveled at the smudges of makeup oozing down his sweat-covered chest. "Do you mind if I clean myself up?"

"No, not at all. The bathroom is right in there."

Alison followed his gesture towards the narrow door. She dashed inside, hoping not to drip too much on the floor. Once the door was locked behind her, she stopped to marvel at herself in the mirror. Gooey globs of spunk and sweat bled colors into one another; patches of skin peaked through where fucking or cock sucking had smudged away paint. She never knew she could look so beautiful. She savored the vision for all it was worth before turning on the sink and washing her face down the drain.

# 
"I hope you don't mind I used one of your towels." Alison walked out of the bathroom, patting her face dry.

"Who the fuck are you?" An unfamiliar voice creaked. "And why are you naked?"

Alison dropped the towel, her heart stopped in mid-beat. An old man hunched over the dressing table, cleaning makeup from his wrinkled skin. She glanced around frantically. Her backpack was gone. Her clothes remained scattered across the floor. "Where did Michael go?"

"Michael?" The old clown burst into laughter. "That no good carnie? If you see him again, tell him Bubbles said to keep the fuck out of his trailer."