Page 10 of Riding Pine
“Well, it’s not like I need to find him because he fathered my child. I just… it’d be nice to do it again, is all.”
James’ eyes light up, and he punches my shoulder.
“You like him. After one night, you like him. You really do have a romantic side,” James gushes, clearly thrilled I might want more than just sex occasionally.
Scowling, I grab my now-empty bowl from him and walk to the kitchen for a refill. This time I’m not sharing.
“No, I have a dick, and my dick really likes him. Don’t make it out bigger than what it really is.”
James cackles. “Your dick or your crush?”
“Oh, shut up,” I grumble. I don’t have a crush. It’s great sex, and I want it again. Nothing more than that. It’s…what do they call it? Sexually symbiotic or something. Magnetism? Whatever. I want to do it again. No other reason.
James laughs and heads to the kitchen. After filling the sink to wash the supper dishes, he changes the topic. “So…the gig with the beaver. Do you actually have the job?”
“Sounds like tonight is a formality and to sign the papers. The woman who offered me the job, Christine, looked me up on an old circus video. She knows what I’m capable of that way. She says she needs to ask me some questions and then sign papers if I want it.”
Hell, unless they want me to do something completely off the wall, the pay is worth it. Work from October to April, two to three nights a week. They pay me to entertain people, which is what I love to do. Teaching yoga and aerial is all well and good, but I love to perform for an audience. I want to do it just to fill the void in my life that the circus left behind. The money is a welcome bonus.
“If anyone can play a grouchy critter with big teeth and a tail, it’s you, Ben.”
“I’m not grouchy,” I sniff. “I’m selectively friendly.”
He laughs as I place my dish on the counter.
“Whatever you say, beaver guy.”
“I’ve gotta run. Call me whatever you want, but beaver guy makes good coin. He might give good wood, too. Only time will tell.”
James flicks soap suds at me, booing my joke as I snort out of the kitchen.
“Breathe in through your nose and sigh it out through your mouth. Let everything relax and turn your brain off. Stop thinking about what to make for supper tomorrow.”
A few of the women on their mats chuckle, and one snores softly off in the corner. The end of a yoga class is always full of mixed reactions. Sometimes they don’t want to leave and chat on their mats for a while. Other times, they can’t leave fast enough.
But this time, when they unwind in corpse pose, spread over their mats and completely boneless, are the minutes they savour. Quietly, I move around the studio, picking up a few things while the soothing music floats through the room.
“When you’re ready, roll up on your mat and open your eyes.”
Most of the women do, except Sandy, who’s still snoring, and the woman next to her pokes her gently. She giggles and stretches, sitting up and licking her lips like she’s been asleep for hours.
“Ben, I get the best ten-minute naps here. You should just offer nap classes. Hell, nap time only. I’d be here every day.”
“Well, there’s a business plan. Adult napping $5 for thirty minutes. Bring your own pillow.”
The women chatter, and it’s actually not a bad idea, and I make a mental note to see if it’s something to add to the calendar. If they need a quiet space to nap and want to pay me for it, I’m not opposed.
The women fold their blankets and murmur together as they file out. In the months since I moved back, I’ve built a strong regular base of clients for evening yoga classes. They laugh and joke with me and wish me a goodnight as they leave. Most of these women are friendly, and I think back to James’s suggestion of a men’s yoga class.
Maybe I should try it. Sure beats dating apps and bar outings. Plus, we’d already be wearing revealing clothing. If only I could stop thinking about the tattooed man named Lukas, maybe I’d actually do it.
Sandy squeezes my shoulder on the way out and tells me the nap times would be a winner. I assure her I’ll consider it, and once they’re all out of the studio, I flick the lock on the door and return to the main studio space.
Since I rented this studio space and started my business, I’ve not had time to practice the routines I loved in the circus. James was right when he said I needed to fill the hole performing left. Yoga is popular here, and it’s what I teach mostly, but my heart is with the silks. Or anything aerial. Suspended hoops and even trapeze would do, but give me a song that speaks to the heart and a soft silk, and you’ll lose me for hours.
My rainbow tie-dyed silk flutters from the rafters after I pull the release cord.
“Hello, gorgeous. It’s been a while.” I pass the material through my fingers and release a breath. It’s my fault I don’t do this regularly anymore, and while that doesn’t normally bother me,tonight I feel…out of sorts. It’s hard to put a finger on exactly what bothers me. I’ve always been a free spirit, sexually and with my life.
