Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Eleven – An Offer You Can’t Refuse!

Michele remained on her knees and waited for Chief Writer Rod Latham to come over to the bunk to see what he wanted of her.

It turned out he wanted a quick fellatio session, which she provided.

After the three sailors had satisfied their urges with Michele it was time to talk business.

“So as you can see compartment Six Quebec Delta Alpha has been put to uses other than for those intended when the ship was built,” Rod Latham began.

“We use it for our own little business on board. We have an illegal open bar four nights a week, gambling twice a week, and when Polly and Doris drafted on board and we found out about the Barrack Room Betty stuff, so we started a porno movie and tranny prossie night once a week.”

“And Polly and Doris are ok with this?” Michele asked, puffing on a cigarette.

“Well they can’t really complain can they? We blackmailed them but we are fair; they get half of what we charge the sailors to fuck them,” Knocker grinned.

“And you’re getting the same deal. You work down here in Six Quebec Delta Alpha one night a week and you get paid half of what you make,” Rod explained.

“So basically you want me to work as a transvestite prostitute with two other transvestite prostitutes and you three take half what we earn?” Michele replied.

The three men just smiled and nodded.

“And of course if I refuse; you make my life hell and expose me as a closet crossdresser on a ship with over three thousand ship’s company, a lot of whom have no compunction about putting their cock into a man dressed as a woman?” Michele said.

“You got it girly,” Knocker grinned.

“Ok; you will have my answer before we get back to Pompey,” Michele replied.

“Now if you don’t mind I need to change back and report to the section base.”

“No need to report, that’s all taken care of,” Rod smiled at her.

“Well in any case, I need to get changed and get to scran,” Michele replied.

“No rush Michele. Been as you’re still dressed how about a quick fuck before you go?” Spike smirked.

“And how much are you charging the punters to fuck Polly and Doris?” Michele asked.

“Ten pounds for a fuck and five for a headjob,” he replied.

“Well you’ll need a tenner then won’t you Jason?” referring to Spike by his proper name.

“You lads just had your last freebie; now fuck off and let a lady get changed in peace!”

Rod and Knocker laughed and Spike flushed with anger.

“Come on lads, we’ve got to up spirits to open the bar tonight. Leave Michele alone,” Rod ordered.

Michele shucked out of her female attire as soon as they left and stood at the small sink removing her makeup, the cogs in her brain ticking over as a plan germinated. She smirked at herself in the mirror and then changed back into her uniform and once more became Able Seaman Nyland.

The next day Michael Nyland met with ABs Dave ‘Doc’ Holiday and Brian ‘Polly’ Perkins in the starboard after ladder bay at stand easy. They sipped kai, sailors slang for hot chocolate, and smoked cigarettes. It was a dismal day with rough seas and pouring rain so they had the space to themselves.

“So the queen of the barracks calls a meeting of her discarded proteges,” Doc said sarcastically.

“Ok ladies; I know I’ve been doing things my own way for a while but right now we are all in the same situation,” Michele began.

“Rod Latham, Knocker White and Spike Jones think they have us over a barrel. I know you girls have been whoring for them and they think they can blackmail me into the same game.”

“What choice do we have? Those cunts know about us being Barrack Room Bettys at HMS Chelmsford! They can ruin our careers!” Doc screeched.

“Ok, chill girls. I have a plan that might just see us on easy street,” Michael said soothingly.

“Just listen me out; but this only works if we are united”

Michael went on to explain his plan in great detail and Doc and Polly listened intently as the plan was unveiled.

That evening CPO Rod Latham, PO Knocker White and AB ‘Spike’ Jason Jones entered Six Quebec Delta Alpha compartment to find Michele, Doris and Polly dressed resplendently and sitting at the small table smoking and drinking from cans of Newcastle Brown Ale.

“What the fuck do you lot think you’re doing!” Knocker stormed over the coaming banging his knee, which elicited a giggle from the trio of transvestites.

“You cunts shouldn’t be here! Tonight’s gambling night!” Spike whined and aggressively strode across the compartment.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Rod put a steadying hand out to his two partners in crime.

“Something tells me that Michele has a proposal. She’s too fucking smart for her own boots but I suggest we listen anyway.”

Michele smiled and waved the three over to sit. Rod sat at the table and Knocker and Spike on the bunk.

“Ok. I’ve considered your offer with some profundity. That means I though hard about it Spike,” Michele couldn’t help but bait her old boyfriend.

“And here’s the problem. You lads are thinking way too modest and your business plan sucks. You are running an illegal open bar four nights a week, a gambling night twice a week, and a porno movie and tranny prossie night once a week.”

“The whole corporate model sucks.”

“What the fuck would you know you’re just a stupid AB Writer transvestite!” Knocker spat.

“No! I’m an intelligent AB Writer who has transvestite peccadilloes and if you shut the fuck up I’ll make you rich,” Michele replied.

“Shut the fuck up Knocker, let’s hear what she’s got to say,” Rod interjected.

Michele raised her eyebrows at Polly and nodded to the fridge and Polly got everyone a can of beer.

“Here is my proposal. We run an open bar with gambling tables every night of the week and there will be four sexy transvestite hostesses on hand to encourage the punters to spend big and they are also available for sex at a price,” Michele espoused.

“But…” Spike was about to interject but Rod raised a hand to shut him down.

“Yeah; I know, this place is a shithole! We need to get it spruced up. Painted, fitted out and made fit for purpose. We put in a proper bar, proper tables and chairs, and for us girls a workroom where we can take the punters for sex,” Michele went on.

“I’m sure you lads have influence with the departmental regulators so we can get materials and a workforce to make it happen during the pre-deployment preparation period. We can offer cash or favours to make sure it gets done,” Michele took a sip of her drink and lit a cigarette.

“What else Michele? That’s not all is it?” Rod asked.

“No it’s not. I want you to arrange a draft for AB Steward Ray Maine from HMS Blake to the Ark; she’s the forth hostess.”

“I want the four of us to be removed from the watch and station bill. We will be effectively posted to the Ark but will not have a part of ship or any duty stations so we can manage this place full time on your behalf.”

“And finally I want the compartment below, Seven Quebec Delta Alpha turned into a four berth mess for your Bettys. I’ve checked the ship’s drawings and it’s just a void. All it needs is air conditioning, fresh water and fitting out with bunks and a shower and a head.”

“That’s bollocks! Even Chief’s don’t get a four berth!” Knocker growled.

“Gentlemen. What I’m offering is a business proposal. We have a seven month deployment to the Mediterranean, Asia and Australia coming up with shit loads of sea time between ports and two thousand plus bored sailors and officers with pockets bulging with cash.”

In the 1970s officers and rating were still paid in cash every Thursday fortnight, even at sea. The Pusser operated a savings bank on board but most sailors simply threw their pay packets into their lockers so they had ready cash for the next port of call.

“We only allow selected members of the ship’s company to use the facility; those we can trust to keep it an absolute secret. But we will make a shitload of money,” Michele finished her proposal.

The three men were gobsmacked by the magnitude of Michele’s proposal but Michele could see the wheels turning in their heads. Michele knew that CPO Rod Latham was the brains of their tinpot venture and that he would see the merit in her proposal.

He spoke first.

“And the alternative?”

“Polly, Doris and I won’t work for you. We know you will out us so we’ll have to pull tricks in messdecks and other spaces around the ship where we won’t get caught. It will be very unpleasant but if don’t do that the bullies will get to us,” Michele replied.

“Your business will suffer and life for us will be shit,” she finished.

“And the big question. How much do we pay you girls?” Knocker interjected.

“We take any costs setting up the business out of the projected profits up front and then we split everything evenly. Rod and I are Writers so we can run the books so everything is transparent to all of us,” Michele replied.

“We all make a lot of money and we all have fun; it doesn’t get any better than that.”

“It’s just like that Godfather dit we saw last week lads; I’m making you an offer you can’t refuse,” Michele grinned.

The three men deliberated amongst themselves while Michele, Doris and Polly chatted and discussed the finer details. Then they discussed the proposal together late into the night. At around midnight and quite a few drinks later a consensus was reached.

The three transvestites and the three sailors clinked their cans together in a toast.

“To ‘Barrack Room Betty’s’, the only floating gentleman’s club in the Royal Navy,” Rod laughed.

“And as been as this is the last time we will be in this shithole before it’s refitted; and, countermanding my previous directive, you lads get one last freebie,” Michele declared.

Jason lunged for Michele but was intercepted by CPO Rod Latham.

“Rank has its privileges Able Seaman Jones,” Rod interjected.

Spike looked very perturbed at not being able to engage with his former lover and Michele shrugged her shoulders and gave him a wan smile as Rod lifted her out of her seat and then planted her in his lap.

Michele had none of her female attire on board and so she was dressed in the Wren’s uniform, albeit with the skirt shortened and against any navy uniform regulations; high heels, stockings, suspenders and satin panties.

She lowered her face to Rod’s and kissed him passionately as she straddled him and his hand slid under her skirt and stroked her thighs. Polly had reluctantly joined Knocker on the bunk but soon forgot her misgivings as they kissed and caressed each other.

Spike, thwarted in his attempt to engage with Michele canoodled with Doris, his hands exploring her thighs under the silver lame miniskirt she was wearing.

Michele fumbled around until she was able to free Rod’s engorged member from his trousers, the girls were pre-lubricated in anticipation of this event and when Rod pulled her panties aside, Michele lowered herself onto Rod’s rampant member. She clenched her anus around his turgid phallus and rode up and down on him, her heels planted on the deck.

Knocker had Polly on her back on the bunk and had deftly removed her black velvet hotpants and tore open her sheer tights and was humping away at her. Polly wrapped her legs around his torso and her arms around his shoulders and was meeting his thrusts as they kissed and caressed.

Doris was on her knees fellating Spike who sat in the chair jealously watching Michele and Rod fuck.

Rod gripped Michele’s waist and pulled her down hard onto his orgasming cock and he spent himself deep inside her; Michele reciprocated by grinding her buttocks against him and ejaculated into her panties as they kissed each other passionately.

Knocker and Polly thrashed and writhed on the bunk, he had turned her over and was fucking Polly doggy style while she grunted and pushed back against him. He held her still and emptied himself into her bowels as she orgasmed, saturating the gusset of her tights.

Spike held Doris’ head and face-fucked her, ejaculating into her mouth and at first she choked and then swallowed his issue.

The sex was over quickly and they were all sated with the exception of Doris who felt used and defiled by Spike; he had shown her little affection and used her mouth as a come dump.

The girls and guys adjusted their clothing and then had more beers and rum as they discussed the finer details of their plan until the early hours. It was a Sunday sea routine and except for the watchkeepers it was effectively a day off.

HMS Ark Royal berthed at Portsmouth on Monday morning for a week’s pre-deployment preps and they all got busy not only with their shipboard duties but with their preps to convert Six Quebec Delta Alpha into ‘Barrack Room Betty’s Gentleman’s Club’.

A small team of chippies got to work in Six Quebec Delta Alpha. They put in a false bulkhead to partition off part of the compartment to create a room with enough space for two double beds, and then they wood-laminated the whole compartment. They built in some wooden cupboards and a small bar and plumbed in a bigger sink and refrigerator. A couple of ‘dip dabs’ painted any surfaces not panelled and they laid carpet on the deck. They helped put in the tables and chairs that Knocker had acquired ashore and installed the two beds in the girls ‘workroom’.

Michael and his Bettys put up velvet curtains for privacy across the entrance to the workroom and strung coloured festoon lighting to add a party atmosphere. A record player and a selection of records were acquired and speakers hung in the corners of the room.

Then work began in the compartment below. First a ladder and hatch was cut in followed by ventilation and air conditioning. With the compartment habitable it was then painted and four bunks and lockers installed. A small wet space with a head and shower was also installed.

Meanwhile Rod and Michele set up an account book; the modifications they were making to the two compartments cost close to a thousand pounds which was all the money that Rod, Knocker and Spike had made so far out of their illegitimate business.

“Fuck! This is costing us big time,” Rod lamented.

“Bollocks; we’ll make that back in our first week,” Michele replied.

“Besides us girls will contribute to the outlay once we start making money.”

“I should fucking think so; you haven’t outlaid a penny yet,” Rod barked.

“Yeah, well wait until we go shopping for clothes, lingerie, shoes, makeup and wigs. That will cost the four of us a bomb. We have to look very special to make sure the punters spend up big,” Michele replied.

And they did. Michele took her proteges shopping at the top end of town ensuring they bought a couple of very nice evening gowns each, as well as some nice mini skirts, hotpants, dresses and blouses. They bought high heels to match their outfits and considerable amounts of lingerie and cosmetics guessing they needed seven months worth. The bought two expensively coiffured fashion wigs to compliment their eveningwear and some bobs for other times. They finished by buying perfume, costume jewellery and accessories.

Then there were the practicalities: douches, razors, shaving cream, other toiletries, lubricants, condoms and knick-knacks.

CPO Rod Latham and PO Knocker White had weaseled themselves onto the HMS Ark Royal Canteen committee and ensured that extra duty free beer and spirits were ordered that they squirreled away to stock the bar in Six Quebec Delta Alpha which Michael had renamed ‘Barrack Room Betty’s Gentlemen’s Club’.

Michael got busy in the personnel office using the Gestetner copy machine to make special business cards. The card had a jet-black background with the stylised picture of a Wren perched on a barstool with her head thrown back smiling with red lipsticked lips. Her cap was perched at a jaunty angle and her hands rested on her knees, the hem her skirt high on her thighs displaying the welts of fully fashioned stockings. Her legs were crossed at the ankles with one black high heel dangling from her right foot. There words ‘Barrack Room Betty’s Gentlemen’s Club’ were embossed in gold at the top of the card and 6QDA in the bottom right corner.

On the Friday before the ship was due to deploy, a perplexed Able Seaman Steward Ray ‘Mary’ Maine posted on board and was met by her three compatriots from HMS Chelmsford Recruit School who led him down to their new messdeck where the situation was explained.

“Fuck me Michele! If there is anyone that can turn adversity into opportunity it’s you!” Mary gasped.

On the Sunday night before the ship sailed, Michele, Mary, Polly, and Doris dressed in the evening gowns they would be wearing as hostesses at the gentleman’s club. They met with Rod, Knocker and Spike in the bowels of Her Majesty’s Ship Ark Royal in 6QDA Barrack Room Betty’s Gentlemen’s club and toasted their new venture with Champagne.

The dingy disused storeroom had been converted into a small, elegant, gentleman's club.

“Well everyone, Michele and I did the books today and it’s cost us just under one thousand and five hundred pounds to refit this space and the compartment below and to pay for bar stock, the girls necessaries, and to pay off the regulators who provided the materials and workforce,” Rod stated sagely.

“Fuck!” they all gasped in unison.

“And we should make that back in the first two weeks, operating seven nights a week,” he beamed.

“And everything else is profit!” Michele beamed.

Michele dimmed the overhead lights, turned on the party lighting and dropped the arm of the record player onto Roxy Music’s debut album. While they danced and celebrated Michele stood duty behind the small bar ensuring they all had plenty to drink.

Knocker and Polly danced cheek to cheek, previous sins forgiven after their interlude on the last night at sea. Rod danced with Mary and was pleased to see the newest member of the stable of transvestites was as alluring as her counterparts. Jason danced with Mary but it was obvious she was uneasy in his embrace.

As the evening wore on and the booze took its toll things quietened down. They sat around the new gaming tables chatting and laughing. Rod took Mary by the hand and led her to the new ‘workroom’. Michele made herself busy pouring drinks and emptying ashtrays. She sneaked over to the valour curtains that separated the workroom from the club and peeked through the drapes.

Rod was naked and lying atop Mary who lay on one of the double beds. Her evening dress, which was split on one side to the thigh, gave Rod unfettered access to her and he had torn open her tights and was grinding away at her while her legs were raised high, her ankles crossed behind his back. She raised her behind to meet his thrusts as they kissed and caressed each other.

Michele smiled and closed the curtain. She turned around and collided with Jason who had crept up behind her.

“Oh fuck! Sorry Spike; I didn’t know you were behind me,” Michele exclaimed and made to move around him.

Spike gripped her upper arm and pulled her to him.

“That used to be us Michele. What happened?” he stared into her eyes.

“Things change Spike,” Michele sighed.

“You used to call me Jason; and you were my girl,” he looked searchingly in her eyes.

“I was for a while; but when I gave myself to Knocker to save what we had at Chelmsford you called me a whore and a slut. Even after that you became obsessed with me and treated me like a slattern,” Michele responded.

“Yes but…” he tried to answer.

“Yes but you made friends with Knocker White and had no compunction in blackmailing me and forcing me into the hands of Rod and Knocker. It’s only my own intellect and guile that has turned the tables and made this what it is.”

“Lets just let it go Jason and make the best of it. We’ll both be rich when this deployment’s over,” Michele brushed past him and went back into the club.

Knocker and Polly were still dancing close together; Polly had her hand inside Knocker’s trousers and Knocker’s hand was inside the split of Polly’s dress.

“Knocker and Polly? Who’d have thunk it?” Michele giggled to herself and went over to the bar and poured herself a large scotch.

Michele propped herself on her barstool and watched as Jason approached Doris and lifted her to her feet to dance. Doris looked over at Michele questioningly and Michele gave her a perceptive nod.

Doris was well drunk by now and was enjoying the attention as Jason scrunched her buttocks and kissed her forcefully, glaring at Michele sporadically.

Knocker led Polly over to the velvet curtain and they disappeared inside. Michele sipped her drink but her curiosity got the better of her and after a while she wondered over and peeked through the curtain again.

Rod and Mary were rutting away, obviously close to climax; the ‘thwok, thwok, thwok’ sounds as his groin slammed against her buttocks testament to their lust. They were kissing and grinding and pawing at each other as their orgasms approached. Mary drummed her heels on Rod’s torso and arched her back, lifting her buttocks off the bed as Rod released his seed inside her.

Knocker was fucking Polly doggy style on the other bed and they too were obviously close to extremis. He had lifted Polly’s dress over her back and pulled her panties aside in his haste to penetrate her and Polly obliged by rocking on her knees to meet his thrusts. Knocker gripped her hips and pulled her back hard against his groin and ground against her as he orgasmed and Polly obligingly wriggled her buttocks. They both gasped and Michele grinned as she saw Polly’s semen drip from her saturated panties onto the counterpane.

“Fuck! That’s another thing! We need to pay off the laundry wallah so we can get our bedding and bar towels done,” Michele lamented, ever the pragmatist.

When she turned back to the bar, Jason had Doris bent over one of the tables and was fucking her hard and fast.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she squealed.

Jason looked at Michele intently as he pulled out of Doris’ anus and sprayed his issue over her creamy white buttocks as he held her pinned to the table.

His grin was vicious but Doris was unaware and giggled drunkenly as Jason’s hot semen scalded her buttocks.

Michele returned to her pew.

She poured herself a scotch and lit a cigarette and blew a plume of blue smoke into the air.

“It’s going to be a fucking long deployment,” she sighed.

To Be Continued.