The intruder let himself into the apartment on silent feet. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to truly mime this way. Years of mere pantomime fell away in an instant. Ozymandias felt strong, wild, virile- everything a mime should be and more. He would have to be careful not to get too carried away, the pure freedom of using invisible tools to pick the lock had him drunk on power.
Suddenly, out of the darkness, something moved. The flick of a match being lit off of a size 20 boot. A ragged cigar puffed to life across the room at armchair height.
"You absolute fool. You think I wasn't born ready for this?" said the Comedian. "This ain't my first rodeo."
While Ozymandias was still frozen like some sort of living mime statue, the aging clown launched himself at him with a mighty "YEE-HONK!"
Quickly, Ozy threw up his white-gloved palms, building an invisible wall between them. But the old clown was faster, vaulting over him and trapping them together in a box of his own making. Blowing out a cloud of noxious cigar smoke, the Comedian grinned impossibly wide with his red-lined mouth.
"You've gotten slow, putting on children's shows. Now let me show you how a real clown fights."
Ozymandias did the only thing he could in this situation and fell back on his years of miming. Striking an innocent pose with his gloves on either side of his face, he mimed wildly " Who? Me? "
Miming reaching into his striped shirt, he pulled forth a single red rose and offered it to the Comedian on bended knee.
"Aw, fer me?" the Comedian slurred, darkly. "You shouldn't have."
Ozymandias' heart fluttered as the battered bozo reached for the flower, he might just pull this off after all. In the same movement as he took the rose from Ozymandias' shaking gloves, the Comedian reached behind himself and produced a pie. The hapless mime had no chance to dodge as he took a shaving cream pie directly to the face.
By the time he managed to wipe the suds off his face, the Comedian had already placed the rose in his buttonhole.
"Let me help you out there, pal," said the older clown, grinning evilly.
No, no , Ozymandias frantically mimed. But it was too late. A torrent of seltzer water sprayed out of the flower he had just given the Comedian, instantly soaking him and plastering him against the invisible wall he had so hastily constructed in his panic.
Getting down on his knees, Ozymandias pleaded silently for mercy.
"And why should I believe you?" said the Comedian, scornfully.
Then Ozy felt the pure and true power of mime filling his every limb. He mimed for his life. He gestured expansively, showing himself as a baby growing up to love clowning, telling of the times when mimes and rodeo clowns were brothers, how he and the Comedian had, on one occasion only, performed side by side.
He could see he was losing his audience. In desperation, he tried the one thing that mimes were the best at in this whole crazy Barnum and Bailey world. Drawing a deep breath, he mimed the best he ever had: I. Love. You.
The Comedian chomped his stogie in half in surprise. No one had ever...
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN- YOU. LOVE. ME!" he shouted. "NO-body loves a clown!"
But I do , mimed Ozymandias frantically. This was his only chance.
Drawing on the French miming tradition which of course owed its power to the Commedia dell'arte which of course was just a bastardized version of the true pure Greek clowning tradition, Ozy began knee-walking across the floor, gesturing his undying love.
Nothing in facing two thousand pounds of enraged hamburger had prepared the Comedian for this onslaught. Backing up, at last he was inevitably caught against the reciprocal invisible wall of the cube.
"This- this is some sort of trick, it has to be," the discombobulated buffoon stuttered.
Let me prove it to you , mimed Ozymandias, desperately. The danger of the situation was not lost on him. Here he was, utterly at his fellow clown's mercy and having to mime for his life. Beyond the mere physical danger lurked the deeper danger of miming. For a mime to convince the world, first he has to convince himself. There were so many mimes who had starved to death in their own invisible prisons, died of exhaustion climbing invisible unending ropes, and worst of all, perished in the Seine after falling hopelessly in love with passing tourists.
But Ozymandias was stronger than that. He had to be. He was the best mime, not just of his generation, but since Alexander the Great- the mighty conqueror who had slayed audiences across Europe and the Middle East.
The Comedian wavered. Seizing his opportunity and the snaps on the Comedian's suspenders, Ozy let the laws of clowning take effect. The Comedian's oversized pantaloons hit the floor with a mighty whoosh, revealing his heart and smiley face printed boxers.
Looking like he wished he had a convenient barrel to dive into, the Comedian comically tried to cover his boxers with his hands.
Grasping his wrists firmly in one glove, Ozy mimed up at him, Shh, we're alone .
Gazing up at the Comedian, Ozymandias began to mime a blowjob. It was harder than he had remembered. It had been years since college, and his tongue quickly tired of poking repeatedly into his own cheek. The coordinated loose wristed hand movement was also more tiring than he remembered. Hands shaking with fatigue, he was on the cusp of crying real tears to match the single painted tear on his cheek when he felt the Comedian's hand on his chin. He looked full into the Comedian's eyes for the first time and instantly began to drown.
"Stop, stop," the Comedian said with a shaking voice. "You'll hurt yourself. I believe you- you don't have to-"
I want to! mimed Ozy.
"Not like this- not the first time," stuttered the older clown. Firmly, but effortlessly, he raised the mime from his knees and swept him into a bridal carry.
"If you don't mind?" he said, gesturing with his chin towards the invisible walls of their prison.
His heart swelling with love at the evidence of the grizzled old rodeo clown trying to speak his language, Ozy mimed opening the door from the gentle embrace of his romeo clown's arms.
Free at last, the Comedian wasted no time in shouldering his way into his inner sanctum, his dressing room. Ozymandias' breath was taken away as he was dumped onto a camp cot piled high with silks- the trophies of a life of constant fighting.
Taking a deep breath to ready himself for whatever came next, the scent of sawdust and greasepaint filled Ozymandias' lungs, making him feel more alive than he had in years. Gazing up at his soon to be lover, Ozy saw him hesitating to remove his polkadotted shirt. Shifting higher on the bed, he patted the pile of silks invitingly.
"Jeez," said the Comedian. "I'm not a pretty picture, you know? I'm not like one of those Renaissance pictures of clowns, you know? I've been around the ring a few too many times."
Rubbing his hand across his grease painted face, he continued, "Maybe I should keep my shirt on. Heck, I didn't think this would ever happen for me- I always figured I would die packed in a small car with thirty other battered old clowns, alone. I'm doing this all wrong.
"I bet you are used to guys who fill your bedroom with balloons and woo you like you deserve. I ain't that guy." He looked down and shuffled his large feet, which were still comically tangled with his pantaloons.
HEY, look at ME , Ozymandias gestured. I. Love. You.
Pulling a baby blanket sized hanky out his shirt pocket, the Comedian hid his face for a moment, overcome with pure emotion.
"Here goes nothin'," he said grimly, turning away and stripping out of his shirt and pants. Now clad only in his heart and smiley boxers and his enormous red shoes, his life as a rodeo clown was clear on his skin.
Covered in scars that told of a life cheating death and making others laugh as he did so, the Comedian was no magazine clown. Turning slowly, he kept his eyes downcast.
"I'd understand if you want to go. Or-" here he took a deep breath. "We could turn out the lights."
Shaking his head a vehement no, Ozymandias rose and gently traced the scars that would have killed a lesser clown ten times over. Gently, Ozymandias pressed his ruby painted lips to the scar covering the Comedian's heart.
Guiding the Comedian's battered and powerful hands to his suspenders, Ozymandias showed him how to undress a mime. With trembling hands the Comedian removed every stitch of Ozymandias' clothing, except for his beret.
Of course, Ozymandias told himself, a mime is never truly naked. Unlike other clowns, they barely need props to exert their raw will on the world. He should know. He was about to perform the greatest mime trick the world had ever seen, but first he needed to ensure the Comedian's silence.
If only the Comedian had also been born a mime, what a team they might have made. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to wish for the Comedian to be anything other than he was in this very moment, no matter how convenient it would have been for him. This must be what it meant to be in love.
Roused from his musings, Ozymandias realized the Comedian's movements had stilled once they were both naked (except for his beret and the Comedian's boots, which for reasons he was unwilling to fully examine, Ozymandias was more than willing to have him keep on).
It was obvious what the problem was- Ozymandias was descended from a long line of burlesque clowns and sexy mimes, but he knew nothing of the Comedian's origins save he had scrambled his way up from a joke orphanage to become the most recognized rodeo clown in the world. The story he could read between the lines- he doubted the Comedian had ever known a moment of romantic clowning in his life. He was going to have to show him how it was done.
Locking eyes with his paramour, Ozymandias mimed as widely as he could, taking into account the Comedian's inexperience.
Whoopsie! I tripped and fell , he mimed, falling ass up over the Comedian's bed. Looking back provocatively, he wriggled in semaphore, Oh no, I am at the mercy of any strong, handsome, virile rodeo clown that comes my way!
An inarticulate honk burst forth from the Comedian's chest as he was overcome by the sight of such sexy miming. In an instant, he was all over Ozy, covering his body with his own, growling menacingly at any invisible virile rodeo clowns that might think to challenge him for his mime. Despite his near feral assault, Ozymandias welcomed the nips and bites lavished on his neck- he would have to change his costume to a turtleneck for days after this encounter.
Flipping him over, the Comedian kissed him full on the mouth for the first time. It was nothing like what Ozymandias expected. Instead of battling for dominance, their tongues acted together, as if they were a double act that had been on the road together for years. Opening his eyes, Ozymandias gazed deep into the Comedian's face as they mutually broke the kiss on some unspoken signal.
This close he could see the greasepaint was covering other scars, but even more surprising, it seemed like the Comedian had chosen to accentuate the cruelest features of his face to make himself look scarier than he was. But now was not the time to let his heart ache for the young clown the Comedian had been- now was the time for clownfucking.
Having had no time to prepare, Ozymandias hoped that the Comedian's obvious inexperience would cover any slip-ups he made. He mimed taking a bottle of lube out of thin air and pumping it a few times onto his fingers. The Comedian's eyes opened ludicrously wide as Ozymandias slid his hand south, preparing to prepare himself.
"Could... you... me?" the rugged veteran of a thousand bovine battles stammered.
Ozymandias, silently cursed his inability to shout "WHAT" while miming, but it must have showed on his face.
His cheeks glowing an almost incandescent red, the Comedian guided Ozymandias' hand dripping with imaginary ultra slippery lube to his back tent flap.
"I want you to," he whispered, as if afraid someone might overhear and laugh.
Sliding one tentative finger inside, Ozymandias was surprised to discover that the Comedian's ass was roomier on the inside than he had imagined.
"Go ahead, you won't hurt me," grinned the Comedian, as if letting him in on a joke.
If it was a joke, the joke was going to be on him. Ozymandias was not going to be defeated by mere clown car physics. He was determined to be the first and last clown inside this particular vehicle.
Clenching his fist, Ozymandias prepared to give it to him. With great and implacable love, he shoved his fist up the Comedian's ass.
"Ung," groaned the Comedian. "Oh God, give it to me, fill me up- I've been so empty so long!"
Redoubling his efforts, Ozymandias conjured the invisible lube with his off-hand, lubing that hand too. And then he really redoubled his efforts, literally.
Two fists deep in the Comedian, Ozymandias was filled with a feeling of overwhelming tenderness towards him as he rhythmically punched his prostate. This must be what puppeteers felt. This must be what it felt to be a god.
"Oh God!" the Comedian yelled, unconsciously echoing his thoughts. "I... I... can't..."
Stilling his ministrations for the moment, Ozymandias used the forbidden lost mime technique of miming with only his face. If the Comedian hadn't already been covered in greasepaint he would have turned white as a sheet as he witnessed this god-tier miming.
YOU WILL , Ozymandias' nose twitched. YOU BELONG TO ME , his eyebrows waggled. YOU WILL COME WHEN I TELL YOU TO AND ONLY THEN , his ears wiggled.
Making a sound that was a cross between a circus train accelerating downhill and a balloon deflating as Ozy removed his fists one at a time, the Comedian made a sad clown face. The Comedian was begging with his entire posture, Ozymandias felt the thrill of true power course through his veins.
A god can be magnanimous to his supplicants too, so he locked eyes with his lover before signalling in the crudest possible way, RIDE ME, COWBOY .
With a joyful yee-honk, the Comedian sprang directly upward, clicking the spurs on his enormous red boots together. Falling back towards earth, he smoothly enveloped Ozymandias in his ass and began to whoop and kick his legs like he was aboard a bucking Brahmin.
Indulgently, Ozymandias mimed really giving it to him and was surprised to find himself almost overcome with the rawness of the joyful performance. He had fucked a lot of clowns over the years, but something about this one was really getting to him. Before he knew it, he was teetering on the brink.
Giving the Comedian's ass a might smack to get his attention, Ozymandias held up three fingers and began the countdown.
THREE. TWO. ONE!
As much as he wanted to, Ozymandias was unable to break the mime code, and in his ecstasy, he fumbled under the cot, finding the one thing that had been missing from all his previous orgasms, ever.
HONK , went the enormous bicycle horn as he and the Comedian simultaneously had the best orgasms of their lives.
As the overburdened cot collapsed under their furious fucking, Ozymandias and the Comedian rolled apart to the sound of an entire marching band's worth of instruments being thrown down the stairs.
Into the silence, broken only by their panting breaths, the sound of a match being struck and a cigar being lit intruded.
The kerosene lamps placed around the dressing room had burned low and they lay in their own little spotlight, looking up at the trompe l'oeil big top painted on the Comedian's ceiling. The Comedian silently handed the cigar over and Ozy took a contemplative puff.
It couldn't last- it never did. But Ozymandias wanted it to last for the first time since his clown college days.
"Look," said the Comedian. "I get it. This was a one time thing. One night only, by special arrangement.
"You deserve everything, funnyface. Not just a sideshow, but the whole damn three ring circus.
"But I am an old clown, too old to change my tricks.
"And we know how this goes. The joke's on me. So I am going to close my eyes, and you do what you have to do."
Wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, Ozymandias saluted the bravest clown he ever knew. Placing his cigar back in the Comedian’s mouth, he gently wrapped him in a tattered bathrobe, carried him bridal style across the threshold and threw him off the balcony.