A strong back light comes on and the outline of a woman becomes visible through the red fabric. The crowd erupts into cheers as the red silk parts and out steps the most stunning redheaded woman.
She has on an exquisite costume of a female ringmaster with a miniature top hat cocked to the side. A long red and black silk jacket covered in gold swirling embroidery ripples around her. Her black over the knee stiletto boots have echoes of the same gold swirls from her jacket. I’d kill for this outfit.
I’ve never seen a redhead pull off this much red before. Even her lips are colored to match her outfit. As she steps forward and bows with a flourish, her coat fans out.
“Welcome toCirque Maléfique,” her sultry voice easily carries out over the crowd. The music changes from ethereal to a faster beat and the strongmen sneak up behind her, ripping off her fabulous coat and little ringmaster hat, leaving her in a black satin corset and short skirt with ruffled bustle.
She feigns shock and embarrassment, then dramatically runs forward away from the men and launches herself into the silks, sailing out over the audience as the fabric retracts into the ceiling. The crowd goes wild as she climbs up the long lengths of red silk, escaping the strongmen who circle threateningly below.
Spotlights follow her into the air as she winds in and out of the silks, moving ever upwards, and I unconsciously hold my breath, scared at just how high up she is. The silks stop retracting, their ends fluttering above the stage.
I’m amazed by her strength as she anchors herself in the silks and then swings out in ever-widening circles. The two strongmen join her at the bottom of each silk, like they are trying to keep her from flying away, and I can’t help but stare at their rippling muscles as they move their bodies gracefully across the stage, even becoming airborne at times.
The guys use the silks like ropes, holding themselves out perpendicularly and then returning their feet to the stage and moving to the edges, anchoring the ends of the fabric to swing them in circles. The control they have over their movements adds to the realism of the pantomime and highlights the truth behind their nickname of strongmen.
The beautiful redhead continues to wind herself higher, almost out of sight in a theatrical escape from her dramatic attackers. The music builds, holding the audience's rapt attention. My mouth dries in anticipation of what will come next, prompting me to take a sip of my forgotten bourbon.
The song reaches a crescendo and abruptly stops. The tent is silent, the crowd holding their collective breath, and then the aerial performer falls through the air, tumbling down the silks until she catches herself upside down, the tip of her long red hair just touching the stage. After a second of stunned silence, we all jump to our feet, thundering applause and cheering.
She flips upright, dropping into the arms of the strongmen as the silks retract back into the ceiling. She makes a show of comically smacking them on the head, so they put her down. Walking the circular perimeter of the stage, she blows kisses to the crowd, who are all now completely in love with her.
The fellas jump down and stand next to the stage. Four more guys come running down the aisles between the stands and the six of them form human stairs at the edge.
I give them credit. Despite her walking down them in her stiletto boots, they don’t flinch or even grimace. I watch her beauty and confidence, her incredible strength, and I think she might be my spirit animal.
She descends the last ‘step’ of the strongman pyramid, directly in line with my seat, meets my eyes and walks straight up to me.
She is even more stunning the closer she gets and is somehow vaguely familiar. She continues her sexy strut toward me, and if I wasn’t so enamored by her, I would probably remember to be shy that I am now under the spotlight with this breathtaking beauty in front of a crowd.
Up close, her burlesque costuming is even more exquisite. I can see the intricate embroidery in shades of gold on her boots and her corset is a beautiful black satin. Her makeup is fierce, her lips covered in red rhinestones, twinkling under the bright spotlight.
She straddles my legs and sits on my lap, making a show of wrapping her arms around my neck to the wolf whistles and catcalls of the audience. I’ve never been attracted to a woman before, but I am not at all put off by the close contact of this stunning beauty. Besides, I tell myself, this is all part of the act.
She leans into my ear and whispers in some type of glorious exotic accent, “Now I see what all the fuss is about.”
I’m still catching up with her words when she nips my earlobe and leans back with a sultry smile. She brushes the faintest kiss over my lips and then picks up my bourbon, knocking the rest of it back to the hilarity of the crowd.
She winks at me, then gracefully gets up and ascends the VIP section to sit with the mountain of a man in a black suit at the furthest table. A made man if my late-night fiction bears any weight.
The spotlights, now white, track back to the stage, where the six strongmen put on an incredible display of balance and strength. Their muscles ripple and pull while they toss each other around and pose precariously. I sip on my water, since the fiery redhead drained my bourbon, and eat some more of the charcuterie plate.
I’m so thrilled I got this VIP ticket. The show is just getting started, and it's already been an amazing experience coupled with dinner and drinks. I continue to marvel at the strongmen, surprised when four hoops descend from the ceiling, each containing a gothic clown.
I recognize the two from the ticket line, and there are two more, similar in appearance and costuming. The guys finish their performance to tremendous applause and bound up the aisles as the music changes over and the hoop act begins.
The server comes back with fresh water and another hefty pour of bourbon. I'm thankful since the fiery red goddess downed the rest of my drink, and I want to have some more of its unusual flavor.
As I watch the hoop performers in awe, I hardly know where to look next. Each of them is so incredible, their talent and strength are simply magnificent.
The hoopers finish up their act, but instead of getting down, their hoops retreat into the ceiling while they are still on them, and I wonder how the hell they will get down.
Amazing act after act graces the stage, each one more surprising than the last. The performers are flawless. Some acts are pure sensuality, some are hilarious, all are unique.
I finish my charcuterie plate, thankful I had more to eat than a protein bar since I’m on my second bourbon. Feeling pretty warm, I suspect this really is bottled in bond, which would make it one hundred proof. I remind myself to alternate sips of liquor with sips of water so I can make it back to my hotel tonight.
The last act’s applause fades and the music starts back up with a pounding beat. The crowd claps along. It's infectious, and the next thing I know, I am clapping with them.
The spotlights swirl over the stage, faster and faster. They start to strobe, the noise and lights rising to a fevered pitch until I need to squint my eyes against the crazy visual onslaught. Abruptly, everything goes still and silent.
