The Circus in Piccadilly

One day in the life of a man who tends to naturally attract women. Though his self resentments and devil may care attitude seem to work against him.

The Circus in Piccadilly

by Chase Halt

I get on the plane. My intentions are clear at the time. I’ll find a job, find a flat and see her one more time, Kate that is.

I am not nervous. I have no reason to be. I am comforted by my intentions.

I Miss her very much, Kate. And I know thinking that we’ll be back together is in all honesty rare, and the actions seem futile, but I have chosen to move to London--the new city, and I know it will take my mind off of her.

On the first day I stay at a hostel off Regent Street in the Piccadilly Circus.

I meet a young but very large and very barrel chested French man. He sits up the second I enter the room. He introduces himself immediately; calls himself Max. There’s a girl on his top bunk. She’s sleeping with her back turned, but a slight lack of skirt makes me wonder what she’s like; in the way modesty wouldn’t.

I speak with Max for a minute before the girl on the top bunk slowly starts to move, she turn around and smiles with long straight pigtails tied up with light blue ribbon. Her face is slender with darkened eyes and refined features. Her lips are moist and supple as if she wore lip gloss to bed.

She speaks in French to Max for a moment before turning and asking my name.

I tell her it’s Chase and then I ask her for hers.

Alexis, she says.

I try to speak with her more, but it seems the French don’t always speak English.

Max tells me she is an adult film star in Marseille.

I ask him if he’s dating her. He tells me he is her protection.

Things seem to make a little more sense.

We drink a bottle of Jägermeister between the three of us in about an hour.

We have become quite drunk in a short amount of time and I discover just how much of a crush I have on this short skirt wearing, pig tail pulling, lip smacking porn star--oh how a beautiful women makes me.

I go out with them in the evening. And we go on a pub crawl that our hostel sponsors.

We drink more at the first bar. It’s underground and it has a stripper pole.

Obviously Alexis gets on the stripper pole.

She draws a crowd. 

Max and I sniff something that he calls poppers.

It seems immature and spontaneous and I feel dizzy and light headed.

I drink a little more and sniff a little more and the crowd begins to disperse.

Max goes to get us more drinks. Alexis grabs me and begins to dance, and grind, and then she takes my hand; she holds it softly for a moment and brings it up her skirt, to that groove in the panties that aches with femininity.

I slide one finger under the cotton--slowly.

She presses harder; then lets my hand go.

Max is back.

We have a cigarette outside with a few other people from the pub crawl.

Max goes to an off-licence shop to buy a bottle of Jägermeister.

Alexis begins to whisper French into my ear--truly sweet, but it means nothing.

She very gently nibbles on my ear and kisses me on the cheek where it partially hits my lips.

She knows exactly what she’s doing.

She knows how blatantly she’s teasing me.

And she knows I’m not blind to it.

--Our lips our inches away.

I kiss her, but she pulls away quick--subtly, but quick.

She kisses me gain, but then pulls away when I try to kiss back.

I love it. And she knows it.

Max returns with the bottle and we pass it around. 

Between the three of us at first, but it quickly makes its way around the rest of the pub crawl group as we are told we are moving on to the next pub.

Alexis and I check our coats while Max goes to the toilets.

I sit down on a stool in the coat room. 

She sits across from me and grabs the crotch of my pants.

She is beautiful; just oozing with sexuality.

She spreads her legs and pulls her panties to the side.

She’s perfectly manicured.

I look into her eyes and she begins touching herself while her other hand is still firmly grasped around a relatively tame member.

Every inch of my drunk self wants this girl, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of admitting how aroused I am.

I look down once more into a very real fantasy and then stare her in the eyes.

She lets go.

Max has returned.

We go to the bar and there is another bloody stripper pole on a very prominent stage.

Alexis entertains the crowd and I buy a drink.

An American girl from the pub crawl begins speaking with me.

She is cute and interested but I talk with her only to humour her.

On any other night I would talk with her to seduce her, but Alexis has my attention even with my eyes off her.

Alexis returns to the bar and we have a few more drinks. 

I speak with the American once more just before we arrive at the third venue--I don’t see her again.

Alexis and I walk into the elevator as Max trails behind.

She whispers the little English she knows into my ear and tells me she wishes I would f**k her.

--Just as the doors are about to close she slides out.

She is beyond my reach. I am escalating further and further away.

It is now me, and Max--alone.

When we reach the Penthouse Max receives a call. He tells me it is Alexis and that she’s going back to the hostel.

I should leave. I know I should, but I stay instead and have a drink with Max.

After one drink we have another, but he is a big man and I’m sure he’s hungry so I suggest we go for some pizza and a beer back at the hostel.

We arrive at the hostel lobby and then do cocaine in the stair well.

We eat our pizza and return to our room.

Alexis is already sleeping or more likely pretending to.

Early that next morning I have to switch rooms due to the elaborate and totally s**t booking system that the hostel so admirably stands behind.

I try to catch a little more sleep in the common room--it doesn't really work.

I meet a young guy from Tasmania who I vaguely remember seeing the night before. 

He remembers me as the guy getting with the porn star.

I resent him. I never got with the porn star, not really.

He tells me he wishes he was me last night, but he tells me that he would rather be Tudo just a little more.

I remember Tudo. He is French, from the Congo, and one of the club promoters, but I only ever spoke with him for a few brief moments just before we started the tour.

I ask the Tasmanian why he would rather be Tudo.

He tells me Tudo told a few guys that he had Alexis bent over in the parking lot behind Penthouse.

I’m hesitant to believe him, but I’m not shocked.

I ask him for details.

He mentions a few, but one in particular stands out

He tells me about a very specific jewelry piercing. The one that rested above her pearly bead

And then I know.

Tudo fucked her.

I feel unsavory. Like an animal.

But not for the reasons at hand

I came to the country with the intentions of winning back the heart of my love. And yet I would have still fucked that girl in those filthy hostel coed showers.

I question how out of skew my priorities are.

But I hardly take it in.

The only trouble I look for anymore is the one involving women.

It’s thrilling and breathtaking but it’s not fair to the woman I truly love and admire.

And I only wish I would respect her more.

She will never be my greatest fan.

Some women are destined for far greater things--and with that far greater people.