Andrew was just about to enter the big top tent when he felt somthing wrap around his arms and waist. At first he thought it was a giant snake, until he was lifted off his oversize feet. He felt himslef turn int midair, was staring fact to face with a an African bull elephant.
Andrew stood shaking in mid-air as the pachyderm's stale breath washed over his body; although he knew in his head that elephants ate only plants, what he knew and what he felt, staring at the beast open mouth and enormous white tusks, were two different things.
"Abmik!" a contralto voice sounded, "put him down now!" The elephant, evidently the Abmik in question, did so. Andrew breathed a sigh of relief, and saw a rather voluptous brunette who looked about his age, dressed in a sequinned showgirl costume, standing right next to the elephant.
"Hi," the girl smiled at Andrew, her teeth were so shiny and white. Andrew's bow-tie spun; one thing that hadn't changed about him was that he still had the hormones and urges of a teenage boy. "Sorry about Abmik here." She looked closer at him. "I thought I knew all the clowns at this circus but I don't think I've ever seen you before."
"Oh ah, I'm new here," said Andrew, stopping his bow tie and trying to compose himself. "I mean, I came here looking for work."
"Oh." The girl pointed a trailer a few steps away from the big top. "That's Mister Ericson's office; he's the co-owner. You want a job, talk to him."
"Th-thank you." Andrew couldn't see his own face but thought the red circles on his cheeks had to be getting redder.
"Don't mention it." The girl stuck out her hand. "I'm Betty McKane; I train animals with my parents."
"Andrew Tucker." Andrew shook her hand, then turned to the trailer, as fast as his big clown feet could carry him.
Betty giggled as she saw the young clown head for the trailer. He was attracted to her; she'd grown up around clowns and knew how to read their unusual body language.
And she didn't mind at all. The guy did look cute; Betty long ago realized that clown guys were a special turn on for her. If he joined the circus she wouldn't mind seeing more of him.
Andrew looked in the window of the trailor; Mr. Ericson was sitting at his desk. Letting out a couple of breaths, he knocked on the door.
Mr. Ericson got up and opened the door. He was a short, portly man with graying black hair and an old-fashioned handlebar mustache. "Come in, come in!" he said, taking a cigarette out of his mouth. "You're in luck; we have a couple of openings for a new clown."