Waking Up With Asmodeus

The rising sun shone through the cracks of the shutters, filtering past the half-closed curtains around the large built-in bed and into Alexandra’s eyes. With a small moan she rolled over and buried her face into Asmodeus’ neck, dragging a quilt over her shoulders to banish the morning chill.

Stirring from his own sated sleep, Asmodeus draped his free arm over Alexandra’s naked back, absently stroking her soft skin. The magician grinned down at her voluptuous form draped over his. He must be imagining it. He’d had so many dreams like this, waking up with bare limbs tangled around each other... Completely nude…

Asmodeus suddenly sat bolt upright, frantically reaching for clothes that weren’t there. He glanced under the sheets and found he, in fact, had not a single stitch of clothing on.

He looked quickly down at Alexandra who was, mercifully, still asleep and curled up in the nest of blankets and pillows. With utmost care, the magician slowly began to slide out of the bed. Delicately untangling his legs from hers and sliding them out from under the blankets to silently step to the chill wood floor.

Asmodeus crept towards the winged arm chair, over which his fine wool pants were draped, and pulled them on. Turning to grab his shirt off the metal furnace, he paused. While Alexandra had not drunk enough wine for a full hangover, he knew she would appreciate a nice hot cup of tea when she woke. The magician fiddled with the dials for a few moments, starting the furnace and hooking up the water heating contraption for the tea kettle. As he fumbled around for his waistcoat the furnace finished heating and began to whistle.

Alexandra stirred at the shrill sound, lifting her head blearily towards the magician. “Hmmm…As-Asmodeus? What are you doing in my cabin…?”

“Nothing, Alexandra,” said Asmodeus, hurriedly shutting off the whistling steam and setting the furnace to keep the water hot, “don’t worry, I was just leaving.”

“But... Asmodeus,” she slurred sleepily, turning away from the too bright morning light, “why don’t I have any clothes?”

The magician froze, his eyes wide and hand halfway to the tailcoat draped over her sewing basket. “Um… Hot water for tea is ready…” He fumbled for words, knowing he had to make his escape before she fully woke up.

Briskly, Asmodeus bundled the waistcoat under his arm, picked his cane up off the floor, and grabbed the top hat from its perch on a nearby teapot.

“I’ll see you later, Alexandra!” Asmodeus said as he hastily rushed out, leaving the fortune teller still looking very confused behind him.

Distractedly, Asmodeus ran a hand through his hair as he hurried away from Alexandra’s ship and towards his own. The sun was still only half over the tree line and very few of the Cirque crew or cast were up yet from a night of partying.

His mind kept wandering back to Alexandra’s cabin and along her many distracting curves... But he had to focus. What was he going to do when she finally remembered last night?

Tom Sry was strolling across the grass, hands in his pockets and whistling, when he spotted Asmodeus. The stagehand tipped his hat and called out to the magician, “Good morning, Sir!” Then, seeing the magician’s shirt falling open to reveal several small bites and scratches that marked his broad chest, Tom jovially asked “Long night?”

Asmodeus nodded cordially, tipping his hat to the young man, “No, no, just out for a brisk stroll. Lovely morning isn’t it?” As he passed Tom, his hands went automatically to fasten the shirt before running into anyone else, only to find that most of the fine pearl buttons had been ripped off in the previous night’s passion, probably by Alexandra herself. “Damn,” the magician grumbled to himself, “now I’ll have to go back to Alexandra to fix this... I could never sew those bloody things on.”

Tom paused, watching Asmodeus mutter as he walked briskly to his own ship. The stagehand turned, looking at the star and moon bedecked ship that the magician had come from before shaking his head and continuing his walk and whistling.

***

When Asmodeus finally reached the sanctuary of his own cabin, he grabbed a half-empty bottle of black rum from the back of a cabinet and sank into a chair.

He had finally, after almost 2 years of attempted seduction and longing, he slept with Alexandra. And that night… Oh, what a night!

But what about Alex? Why had she changed her mind? Not the alcohol; she hadn’t been that drunk. He tried to think of anything that was different between them. The fortune teller had always avoided flings with cast or even audience members, unlike the rest of the Cirque. So why now?

Asmodeus took a long drink from the bottle before burying his face in his hands. “Oh god, and what am I going to do when I see her again?”

***

Across the field, Alexandra numbly wandered around her cabin. She had made tea so frequently that she didn’t even have to think, her hands automatically carried out the task of making a strong Assam as her mind wandered in remembering the previous night.

She couldn’t decide if the decision to invite Asmodeus back to her cabin had been a crazy one or a completely insane fantasy. The fortune teller knew she’d been drunk, the wine at the King’s table had been too good to pass up even a single offer for a refilled glass, but Alexandra had drank that much before at Cirque parties.

It must have been that dammed tailcoat. With the imported black brocade and the ruby red satin lining, in addition to the impeccable tailoring done by one of the finest sewing shops in all of France, that coat was breathtaking. Yes, Alexandra decided, she would in fact blame that coat for her downfall. Of course the silk waistcoat and white cravat didn’t help either. Very few men could tie a cravat as neatly as that.

Alexandra sighed, taking a long sip of the brisk tea. She had been an idiot to sleep with the magician. Now she could feel the old pang of longing for Asmodeus grow into a bone deep ache and she wanted nothing better than to run to his ship and reenact the night all over again. The problem was that she had no idea how he felt. Was this all just a fling or had his almost kiss during the dinner and the following passionate night been the sign he felt something more for her?

Pensively the fortune teller finished her tea and poured herself another cup, letting the fragrant steam soothe her worries. She would just have to wait until she saw him later in the day to gauge his feelings towards last night. In the meantime, there was plenty of tea and mending to keep her distracted.