Taming the Tiger
A Short Story
By
John Rocha
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
John Rocha on Smashwords
Taming the Tiger
Copyright 2012 by John Rocha
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
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I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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Taming the Tiger
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The crack in the canvas was still black, no match for the bare bulbs round the mirror in the makeshift dressing room. Sounds - more a feeling of disturbance - a sense of something stirring out there, Xiao Yian put her eye to it. It was always the same in every provincial town. The auditorium was filling up. Behind her things were also stirring. The animals knew when to go. Boy would be getting nervous too.
The band struck up as it did every night when old Dong waved his baton and then, even without the last call, it was time to go. Was she nervous? Who knew? Inside their troupe people took it for granted every night out there with the tigers cuddling and prodding. The act was always the same. People always had the same queries. Was she afraid? What did it feel like? "You must be brave." "One mistake and you're dead." What did she think about? But she had no answers.
Outside, under the arc lights the drums were banging - time to go. Stand up, last look in the mirror, pull out the creases, paste on the smile, stand tall and stride out. She was always greeted with a wave of applause that drowned the announcement of her name.
What did she think about? Her name - that was something to think about. "Little Swallow" - a strange name for a life like hers and yet she normally felt coaxing was better than clubbing for she and the tigers had grown up together. But still, in times before, all those years ago in Heilongjiang Province always with her mother and the poverty and the danger sometimes her temper would break out and then her mother would call her "Stormy Petrel" Since then her temper had been dormant, all through her training and the dangers of her present life - especially with Boy. His real name was Guo but it was difficult to think of him in any other way.
At the beginning it had been "First Cousin Guo" - but soon, like all the others it was "Boy". He was a man now but the name still clung.
He stood behind her now. She had to stand a little in front because otherwise his tall shadow half hid her face. Now they were both there the applause grew frantic Sometimes she felt she knew nothing about people. In the heat of the lights she stood still while they got ready. Time went by as Boy slowly moved. They stood on either side of the entrance to the tunnel. Time stood still as her bowels tightened.
She had come at thirteen from Hailun, far north of Harbin City, to their base in Shanghai where Old Dong took care of her - though her mother never knew. Mother's life had always been so hard. The family had been almost depleted when Kuomingtan troops had driven down on the village and conscripted her brother and father to fight against the Eighth Battalion of the People's Liberation Army while the Japanese invaders were all around. Only broken men and tricksters were left and they soon came round one after the other to take advantage of a woman without protection. Some were cunning, some were brutal but all were worthless. Her mother was always crying then. Xiao Yian didn't blame her but she hated the men with their cheap presents and empty promises and she was growing up too.
It had been dark and wet on that Friday and no worse than usual. Mother was preparing the evening meal when her latest friend, Landlord's son Ji, returned from a drinking session. He had lost money and was in the mood for a fight and found his excuse in accusing mother of making eyes at his eldest brother, Schemer Ji. She denied it in tears so he had set about her with his feet and his fists, knocking her to the ground and kicking her until she only moaned. Then he had sat down to dinner complaining that there was no drink.
Next morning she found a note on her bed from her mother. She had gone to Auntie Lian's to arrange for them to leave the village - she could stand it no more. Landlord's son Ji missed her and had rushed into the room and seized the paper from her. He raised his fist to her as she struggled against him. There on the bed they had fought and suddenly, without warning, she had felt the power of a man for the first time. He had turned her onto her stomach, lifted her shift, forced his knee between her thighs and without further ado had entered her. More in disgust than in pain she had screamed. When he had finished he tried to wheedle her promising her presents obtained from the Japanese but she had scratched his face. That was the last time she saw Landlord's son Ji.
The crowd was hushed and the lights narrowed to pick out the mouth of the tunnel. Boy had arranged the two low stools on either side. For her, the smell warned her. For the crowd it was the low snarls and the expectant figures of herself and Boy. The tigers came padding slowly in, always bewildered by the lights, seeing her, smelling her as the first friendly being. She turned her face to the crowd and flashed a bright smile from her painted face. The light shone on her leaving Boy in Sillhouette. She raised her stick and with a word and a sign coaxed the tigers onto the stools. They had to balance with their four legs forced together. She caressed them face to face while the crowd murmured. She prodded them with her stick to make them snarl and paw the air.
It was always the same. Boy was preparing the two long benches for their second trick and then the light would move to him. He stood steady while the crowd applauded and the tigers growled. Turning his back on the crowd he looked at her and in that instance she pointed with her stick. The tigers with a great roar leaped to the centre of the circle landing either side of Boy. He swung round to face the crowd. The clapping grew ecstatic, the drums pounded, the lights glowed and Boy stood there, each of his hands shaking the tigers by their shaggy manes while they growled and purred.
Inside the ring she trusted Boy. Her life depended on it. He was a wonderful beast. It was difficult to know what she felt about him - or his father, Old Dong. She had run to Auntie Lian's as soon as she could escape from Landlord's son Ji. She had found her mother too ill to move. Lack of food and the brutishness of her existence seemed to have weakened her will to live. Auntie Lian knew that they wouldn't last another winter together. She was too old to harm and her men were away with the PLA. All she could think of was to send Xiao Yian to her half-brother in Shanghai.
The journey had been long and hard. She had never been on a train before and the noise and bustle had confused her. Luckily, as a young girl travelling alone, she had found friends - always women - who had helped her on her way until finally, after a terrible night in a crowded cattle truck, she had found her way to Shanghai to her "uncle" Old Dong and his son, Boy. From the first Old Dong had taken a liking to her seeing her as a brave girl. Even when the others had laughed he had decided to teach her to follow him into the cage and had told Boy to help her too.
He stood in front of her now, directly in front of her with his body silhouetted in the flaring lights, basking in the adulation of the crowd. His body was a magnificent spectacle of male physique.
Even when she had arrived he had been a full grown man and soon there was gossip about them which she silenced with her conduct. But she often wondered about Boy. Stories were told about Old Dong which were hard to believe when you looked at his rotund figure and white hair but he too had looked like Boy in his youth. At first she had not understood why people talked but one day after the show she walked through the cluster of young girls who stayed behind, between the seats where some seemed damp although there was no rain. She asked the old lady who cleaned up but got no answer. She asked Old Dong who looked away. She asked Boy who blushed and stammered. Only months later and every evening like this one did she realise that the musty smells, the noise, the heat and the sight of Boy's clearly defined form were a heady combination for the silly young girls who sat writhing in their seats while the sweat poured down her thighs.
The drums beat louder and the cymbals crashed. The tigers snarled. She took the iron hoop covered with paper which was pushed to her through the bars of the cage and rolled it forward. Boy expertly caught it, flipped it above his head and faced the crowd. All eyes were on him while he turned side to side. The tigers seemed smaller and less fierce. She grasped the lighted torch and strode towards the centre of the floor. Boy turned towards her and waved her to the crowd. With one hand he held the hoop high, with the other he pointed at her. She stood with him, the fiery torch held high. The crowd hushed again while Old Dong made the band beat slow,
At first she had been more scared of appearing in public in her skimpy costume with her painted face than of the tigers. The wanton behaviour of the city girls disgusted her. But Old Dong had insisted and even the newly appointed Party Chief had seemed to tolerate the traditions of the stage. So she had acquiesced and as her body developed her costume seemed even briefer and more exotic. She knew she was called a beauty. Her legs were long and strong-thighed, completely bare with little silver spangles sprinkled on them to catch the light and match the dancing shoes she wore with her red and gold belted leotard emphasizing her graceful hips and slender waist. This year she was a woman for certain almost a quarter of a century old and still unmarried as Old Dong pointed out. Even Boy had once joked that the other girls were jealous and called her "Beautiful Cousin"
Boy was ready now and the tigers were restless. He gave a signal and she brought the stick down under her tiger's throat. He would have to wait. Boy held the hoop between the two benches. With a dramatic gesture she touched the torch to it. As the flames curled round, Boy's tiger got his cue and leapt through the paper, through the flames, the crowd going wild, the music unbearably loud. The tiger bounded onto the bench beside his pair and with one further leap padded off to his stool at the back. The light turned onto her. Boy had left her after pulling the bench nearer. She looked out at the crowd, threw her torch into the water bucket and turned to her tiger. Her stick still under his throat, she teased him till he growled. He towered over her, she fondled him with her free hand then took her stick away. He started to spring but checked. With one smooth movement he flung his front paws across the gap above her head. She threw her stick away. She stood arms and legs apart, the lights playing on her body, her head flung back, under the tiger, triumphant and strong.
The lights went out and when they went back on, Boy was again in front of her. She saw him clearly now, only a couple of feet ahead. His great head of hair matted with sweat, rolling down his neck and shoulders, splashing the ground below. When the cymbals crashed she stepped back. When they clashed again, Boy did the same. Bowing his shoulders under the tiger, with one swift movement he grasped the legs, back and front, into his arms and hauled the frothing animal around his neck. There he stood then walked, wonderful in his strength and courage, round the cage.
His costume was simpler, though almost more revealing than hers. His green vest tucked into green tights fitted so closely that every muscle of his thighs burst through and in the harsh arc of the lights his manhood bulged. The crowd were stamping and yelling. She could almost smell the young girls in the front. Her senses were heightened as she opened the tunnel door and guided her tiger out. Meanwhile Boy tramped the stage while the crowd chanted in rhythm to the throbbing music - she was nothing there. At last Boy returned and heaved the creature back onto the benches. She stepped under once more. Boy flicked his stick against the tiger's nose and with a low grumble he loped off, down the tunnel and to the lair beyond.
She was left with Boy, hands held high and fingers touching. They looked this way and that in the heat and the light. Suddenly, all went black. She quickly followed Boy. The music stopped. The baying crowd grew still.
Back in her dressing room, Xiao Yian waited for the fatigue to flood through her but she couldn't settle in her accustomed way. She faced the lights around the mirror. Under her sweat-streamed make up she could see her eyes shine clear and bright. Round them she could see the wrinkles. Surely not. She switched the lights off. That truth could wait. She walked round the room and found herself in the passageway outside Everything was quiet. She could keep her curiosity back no longer. She walked down and peeped through the slit.
Boy was lying there crumpled in an exhausted heap, carelessly thrown down like a broken doll upon his bed. She tip-toed in and though he stirred, his eyes remained tight shut. She stumbled but went on. She stood over him and willed him half awake. The seconds turned to days. His eyes gazed up, bewildered and afraid. His head turned as if for help but his body kept him still. He hesitated in his smile and she knew then the moment had come, now or not for ever. His eyes widened as she slid her hand down inside his taughtened thigh - it was time, time at last to tame her tiger.