Buttercup by Sienna Mynx

them in from town to town,” she bragged with an upward toss of her chin.
    Silvio shook his head, confused. “You sure about that?”
    Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that mean?”
    “It means you look like you’d be more than some hooch dancer,” he said, smiling.
    She stood there at first, not sure of his answer. She studied him for the trick; slowly she smiled, understanding the compliment. “I got other talents.”

    “I’m sure you do.” He moved in close. His hand went to her exposed shoulder, then up the side of her neck. His touch was gentle, light.
    His face moved in closer. “So what say you, Buttercup… will you help us?”
    “It’ll have to wait until the tent shows close. Tiny won’t see me until they done.”
    “How long?”
    “Another few hours. Not long.” She stepped around him, removed the five dollars from her dress and put the money under the lining of the music box. “You from ‘round here?” she asked.
    “Not far from here,” he said.
    “I from the carnival. Was born in the carnival and will die in the carnival. That makes me from everywhere.”

    ***
Silvio watched as the zipper on her dress eased down. The soggy fabric dropped from her body in one discarded heap. She wore nothing but her stockings underneath. The kerosene lantern in the tent wasn’t lit, but the outside carnival lights gave him some view of her, different than when she was on stage. There was a ripe innocence to her nudity. Something he’d never really seen in another girl. The humid air was cooler thanks to the rain. Her nipples puckered in response. Her breasts were perfect in symmetry and darkly coated, her nipples the darkest. He’d never been with a colored woman. He’d seen pretty ones before but never been with them. Seeing her now from the stage, he found the girl beneath and something he couldn’t quite name stirred in him. Was she a whore? Her eyes said no. She was a hooch dancer and sometimes that was different—
    sometimes. He had worked it out the moment she blew him the kiss. This was a sure way to get his self and Jelly out of a pinch, so he told Jelly to hang back, give him time to work it through. He took the money Jelly had and planned to sweet talk her and get her to barter the deal.
    Now?

    “You know why I plan to stay a carnie?” she asked, and lifted her leg. Her foot rested on the only chair in the tent. Her thigh covered her pussy from his view. So instead, his eyes latched on to her fingers that worked down the top trim of her stocking.
    “No, why?”
    “Cause here we all free. Tiny is the boss, a respected man, even though he three feet tall. Janice has a boyfriend who doesn’t care about her beard. Madame Danique can play with her snakes, worship her snakes, and not get burned or hanged. Lady Joyce is a star again.” She looked over at him, rolling down the stocking, then switching to the other leg. “And a colored gal can get five dollars in a night for showing a little skin.”
    “You’re quite something, Buttercup.”
    “Am I?”
    Silvio stopped directly in front of her. She turned to face him as if standing there nude meant nothing. It meant something all right. He was possessed with the urge to show her what. He reached out in the dark and traced his fingers from her eyebrow to her jaw.
    “Yes.” His voice was as soothing and sensual as his touch.
    A charge went through the pads of his finger from contact. It scorched a shivery yearning path that warmed her interior and his. He inclined his head and she didn’t even blink. Instead of capturing those full ruby red lips, he rubbed his cheek against hers.
    “I did like the show,” he whispered in her ear. He took the time to inhale the floral natural scents that permeated off her skin. His face drew away slowly, but remaining close, their eyes locked. He’d had girls before in the back of trucks or out in cornfields. Not much to it. Somehow, she inspired him. So he kissed her, a pressing of their lips that